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Unfinished

I had the pleasure of visiting Jamaica on a recent vacation. It’s a beautiful island; lush, green, mountainous, vibrant and alive. But as I looked around I noticed that the homes in many of the areas were in what appeared to be different stages of deterioration. I thought they were ruins. Our tour guide explained, however, that they were not ruins at all. They were simply unfinished.
She said that many Jamaicans built their own houses and that they would usually start with three simple rooms which would be the kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. Then they would leave the house in a state where it could easily be added onto as more money became available.
I felt instantly remorseful. We take so much for granted here. Sure, we may have to suffer the occasional discomfort that comes along with a remodel or having something repaired, but for the most part, most of us usually move into comfortable, finished homes. What must it be like to always be working on your home?
But what I was most ashamed of was that something I saw as ugly was actually something of great hope and joy for them. They had a plan and they knew that with hard work and time they would accomplish the dream one day. This was a true case of beauty being in the eye of the beholder.
It made me think about how Jesus and Satan may look at us. Perhaps Satan looks at our sin and brokenness and says “how could you ever love them, their lives are in such ruin?” But then Jesus simply answers “they’re not in ruins, they’re just unfinished.” What Satan sees as ugly and ruined, Jesus sees as filled with His hope and He knows that with time and hard work, His plan will be achieved.
I looked at those homes through different eyes the rest of that day and I almost wanted to shout a big “yahoo” every time I saw a finished one. But I didn’t; I just said a quiet little “yay” to myself. Just like I say a quiet “thank you” to Jesus every time I remember that He hasn’t given up on me even though I am far from finished.
Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. 1 John 3:2 (NKJV)
 

Death…it’s a very morbid subject that most of us don’t like to talk about. It can be a very scary word. I find that the older I get, however, the less afraid of it I become. You would think the opposite would be true because I’m actually getting closer to it as time goes by. But no, I seem to be getting less and less afraid of it all the time.
When I was younger I was very much afraid of death. So afraid in fact that I would often have nightmares about dying and wake up in a total panic in the middle of the night. I believe it was more a fear of the unknown though. A fear of not knowing where I would go if I were to die.
Oh but I no longer have that fear now. I have the comfort of knowing that the moment my soul leaves my body here on earth it will be with Jesus in Heaven and that brings me such joy and peace. I may not be exactly sure what heaven will be like, but the Bible says that it’s a place where God will wipe every tear from our eyes and there will be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain (Rev. 21:4 ). Sounds like a pretty good place to me! I find myself even looking forward to it now!
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die so don’t put me on the prayer list or send me any suicide hotline numbers or anything like that. I have a family that needs me and a long list of things that I would like to do before I “kick the bucket”. I have a lot of living left to do, so I guess I better stick around a while longer, Lord willing.
But it’s comforting to know that there is more than just the time we spend on earth. We are only here for a little while and then eternity. I’m so thankful for a God who loved us so much that He made a place for us to be with Him in eternity. If you are not sure where you would spend eternity, why not settle it? Please send me or any of our caring Northcrest staff members an email. Someone will be glad to help you anytime. God bless you.

The Ugly Swan
 

There once was a young duckling named Tula who lived on a beautiful farm. She had everything she needed to make her happy, a kind farmer who loved and cared for her, a large pond to swim on, and a family that adored her; yet, her heart was somehow discontented.
Tula was convinced that she was meant to be more than just a duck. She would sit by the edge of the pond day after day and watch as the swans swam gracefully by and admire their beauty. That’s what I want to be, she would think. That’s what would make me happy.
One day she left her family and joined the swans. She hadn’t talked it over with the farmer, but she felt that he would understand. He would want her to be happy, after all happiness is what was most important, after all.
The swans welcomed her in with open arms, as graceful swans would do and she began to learn how to be like them. They tried to teach her how to walk gracefully like them, but she sort of waddled instead. They tried to teach her how to swim with her long neck stretched and head held high; however she came up rather short. They were often quiet and meek at feeding time, she almost always seemed to open her big beak and let out an awkward “quack” or “squawk”. They never laughed at her or made her feel like an outcast, but she always felt like she was so much less than they were. She just didn’t measure up somehow. No matter how hard she tried, she just didn’t fit in.
One day when she was feeling particularly frustrated, she sat at the edge of the pond and began to cry. “Tula, why are you crying?” Tula recognized the voice of the kind farmer. He sat down beside her. She wanted to tell him everything but she was so ashamed and afraid. She hadn’t talked to him about it. What if he was angry now? What if he scorned her, or laughed at her? She turned away in fear.
The farmer put a gentle hand on her back and said softly. “I could use a good duck if you know one” and then he stood and walked away. Tula was amazed! He had not judged her. He had not scorned or laughed at her. He had simply forgiven her and invited her to go home.
Tula waddled home as fast as her short legs would carry her. Her family was happy to see her of course. She joined them on the pond and found that she made a much better duck than a swan. This was what she was made to be. Yes, she could serve her farmer her quite well with the gifts that she had. Life was as it should be. She still enjoyed watching the swans, that was their purpose after all. But she knew that she was not supposed to be with them and she was content with that.
I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made… Psalm 139:14(NKJV)

Let’s Agree to Agree

God is so good! He sometimes reveals the most amazing things in the simplest ways. Just before Sunday school, a friend of mine shared something with me that she wanted me to pray about for her. I told her that I would and assured her that if it was God’s will that it would happen. I went on to sort of self-righteously quote Matthew 18:19 …that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. It was then that I got a pang of guilt as I remembered that someone else had just quoted that verse to me just a few days prior after I had whined to her about a burden in my life that was really weighing me down. I was realizing now that I may not have been quite so willing to believe it myself when it was quoted to me.

This person had not been judgmental at all. She had simply listened as I poured my heart out to her and told her what I wanted to see happen with this situation. She then told me that we would just have to pray about it and agree that it would happen. “Ha, that’s easy for you to say!” I had thought; after all, she was not the one standing on the edge of the cliff, looking into the deep, dark abyss, wondering how in the world things were ever going to turn out alright. But I tried to have faith and we prayed and agreed that it was going to turn out the way I would like to see it turn out, God willing.

Now, there I was sitting in Sunday school quoting a verse to someone that I wasn’t really practicing myself. Hypocrite! I could almost hear God asking “So, if two of you agree, huh?” I had to laugh at myself now. I thought about my situation and I thought about how merciful God is. There is no problem that is too big for Him. “Yes, Lord,” I answered, “I do agree.” I gave it back to Him; and this time I intend to leave it with Him.

By Linda Dean

I made one of my husband’s favorite deserts the other day, banana pudding; but I knew something was wrong right away. I had left out a key ingredient; a pinch of salt. It was just a small thing, but it made a big difference.

Salt can be a very powerful ingredient sometimes. You wouldn’t think that something so small could add such flavor, but try having a doctor limit the amount you can have and you’ll start to miss it very quickly. Maybe that’s why Jesus chose salt to compare us to when He said “you are the salt of the earth.” Matt. 5:13.

Sometimes I feel more like I’m trying to be one of the other spices though. I may start out like the sugar, nice and sweet, trying to brighten everyone’s day, but then I’ll end up more like cayenne pepper, fiery hot and mad at the world.

But Jesus doesn’t call us the sugar of the world or even the pepper. He calls us the salt. So salt we are. But He also goes on to warn us that if salt loses its saltiness, it’s good for nothing but to be trampled underfoot. That would be tragic.

So what can I do to keep my flavor? I must remain vigilant. I need to stay in God’s word daily and I need to be active. Let others see Jesus in me. Be the salt of the earth. It is my prayer that I will be willing to be used by God as a key ingredient in the world; just a pinch of salt, if you would.

By Linda Dean
 

I love reading my morning devotionals. Sometimes it’s almost like the author read my mind and knew exactly which verse I needed for that day. Actually, that’s just how good our God is. He knows what we need and has the power to speak to us through His Word.

One particular scripture that spoke to me one day was Isaiah 30:21 Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “this is the way, walk in it,” whenever you turn to the right hand or whenever you turn to the left. (NKJV). The author of the devotional went on to compare life to a pathway and I got a mental picture of my sisters and myself as small children again, running through the woods, the way we used to do. We were following a pathway that we knew would lead us home and all we had to do was stay on the path. But along the way we saw some pretty flowers so we wandered over to pick them. Then we noticed a tree that looked like it would be so fun to climb. It wasn’t too far away, so off we went. While we were in the tree we saw a creek winding through the trees a little further off in the distance. The thought of splashing in the cool water was irresistible, so we decided to go and play in it, for just a little while anyway.

Before we realized it, we were completely lost! We were afraid and didn’t know what to do, so we cried out to Jesus, “Jesus, please help us!” Of course He did. He came and took us by the hands and led the way. It wasn’t easy though; we had to walk through narrow pathways that were filled with briars and brambles, and it took some time, but we reached the pathway home at last.

That’s kind of the way it is with life. We start out good, on the right path, then we get distracted by the pretty flowers and all the other things that life may throw at us and we take our eyes off the path and we get lost. But when we cry out to Jesus, He’s always faithful to forgive and to come and lead us back home. What I really love about this scripture is that it’s telling us that He’s there with us the whole time, telling us which way to go, if we’ll just listen we wouldn’t get lost in the first place. Now, if only I could get that through my thick skull!

By Linda Dean

 

Shoes…it’s a magical word. Almost like chocolate, or diamonds. I love shoes. All types of them. You wouldn’t know it by looking at mine, however, because I have become a creature of habit and tend to wear the same comfortable pairs over and over.

I love to shop for shoes though and often drive my husband crazy while looking at dozens of pairs only to settle for the first pair that I tried on. This has been the subject of many heated “discussions” between us. It’s a good thing he loves me.

But what can I say? I like to look. I look at other people’s shoes too. In doing so, I often wonder if those shoes could talk, what would they say? Mine would probably say something to the effect of “Lord, help us this woman is crazy!” Or sometimes they may just sit and be quiet and not say much at all.

But with the old adage “If you could walk a mile in her shoes” in mind, I think about the woman who seems so put together. You know the one; the hair is always perfect, the outfits are always stylish and sophisticated, and the shoes, well, I have to repent because I am guilty of covetousness every time I look at them. They’re to die for! But what kind of story could those shoes tell? What’s going on in that woman’s life that we don’t see? Maybe she’s being neglected at home. Or maybe she goes home to an empty house and she feels alone. Whether it’s due to divorce or mistakes from her past, maybe she has somehow become isolated from family and friends. But she’s too proud to let it show. If only her shoes could talk.

What about that woman who always wears those dirty, outdated tennis shoes? What’s her story? What if that’s all she can afford? What if she’s a single, working mother who’s trying to do her best to feed and clothe her children and herself and those shoes are the only pair she owns that are warm enough to wear in the winter? Maybe she bought them a long time ago and is holding out the hope that they will last long enough to make it through one more winter, then perhaps she will be able to afford to buy a new pair next year. No, they’re not much to look at, but I bet they could tell quite a story.

I remember my sweet grandmother’s shoes. She always wore the same pair; plain white nursing shoes. The old-timey ones that nurses used to wear back in the day. She wasn’t a nurse; I guess it was just what she was comfortable in. If I could have walked a mile in those shoes, I’m sure they could have told some wonderful stories. The ironic thing is that Grandma couldn’t walk. She suffered polio when she was only four years old and was paralyzed. You’d never have known it by her disposition though. And she got around on crutches better than a lot of people do on two legs. Yes, I’m sure her shoes could tell some stories. Maybe not all happy, her life was not perfect, but she loved and “walked” with Jesus and was a good, Godly woman. Now she is truly “walking” with Jesus. I don’t know if we’ll have shoes in Heaven, but if we do, I’m sure hers are quite dazzling. Maybe something like Dorothy’s ruby slippers.

But a person’s shoes cannot speak for them, not literally anyway. And even if we could walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, I’m not sure if we could even begin to understand what that person really feels sometimes. But we can take a closer look at that person sitting next to us. She’s not just someone in our Sunday school class or someone who sits on the other side of the pew in church. She’s a member of the Body of Christ. We are all the Body, and when one member hurts, it affects all the members.

We need to see people the way that God sees them; from the inside out. His Word says: …The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7 (NKJV) So, I think maybe next time I catch myself looking at someone’s shoes, I’ll try to take a little more time to worry about their soul rather than their soles.


By Linda Dean
 

I feel like our church is moving toward the missions field lately. Not just foreign, but also local missions. It blesses me to see all the different things that are going on. I was especially blessed by the ladies who shared their testimonies of the Costa Rica trip a couple of weeks ago. What a joy to see the faces in the pictures of the people they were able to share the gospel with!

I’ve been praying for guidance on what God wants me to do. For what my mission field may be. I haven’t received my answer yet. Every time I think I have it figured out, Satan seems to throw a kink in the plan and my world turns upside down somehow. But God is good and I know He does have a plan for me and that He will reveal it in His time.

Bro. Dan preached a sermon a few weeks ago about service that really touched me. It was about Aaron and Hur and the battle of the Amalekites. In a play on words I thought, that sounds a little like Aaron and her. But if it were Aaron and her, who’s her? Could I be her? I’m not quite sure I fit the description. She would need to be a woman of strong faith and faithful service to the Lord. A woman like Ruth or Esther maybe. Or perhaps Mary or Elizabeth. I’ve been reading about them a lot lately. They were righteous women who found favor with the Lord. They could definitely be her.

I’m more like Martha, running around, busy, busy, chasing my tail trying to make everyone happy. I want to serve the Lord. I want to do what is right. But maybe I need to take a Mary minute and listen to what He’s telling me to do; then maybe I can learn how to be her.

There are so many opportunities available in our church now, and I’m so thankful to be a part of a growing, loving, caring congregation. God loves and has a plan for all of us. When we answer His call and give Him our lives, He gives us the power to become her. He is so good!

By Linda Dean

 

Sitting in the rickety old swing in my front yard on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I take a moment to be quiet and enjoy the breeze and listen to the sounds around me.

As the wind blows gently through the trees I hear the soft tapping of the bare limbs as they clack together in the breeze. I look closer and see that they are beginning to bud; a hopeful sign that spring will soon be here and that all things will be made new once again.

I push the swing slowly back and forth with my feet. It makes a soft creaking sound as it slowly rocks to and fro. It’s a comforting sound that reminds me of visiting a favorite aunt from my childhood. We would sit on her front porch swing for hours while she told us stories. I can still remember the smell of her perfume, sweet, like fresh honeysuckles on summer morning. She was a wonderful storyteller. Her eyes would light up and then almost completely disappear when she smiled and her hearty laugh was so contagious you would find yourself laughing along with her no matter what your mood was. And she loved to sing the old hymns. I remember her soft, sweet voice singing those beautiful old songs to us many, many summer afternoons in that swing. She’s gone on to be with the Lord now and is singing with the angels. I miss her though. She would have loved an afternoon like this. Just sitting and listening in this old swing.

I close my eyes and listen. Somewhere nearby a bird chirps noisily. Someone’s cat has probably found its nest and is slyly stalking, waiting patiently for just the right moment to pounce and then enjoy his tasty treat. After a while the bird settles down. The cat must have given up and decided to save this prize for another day. All is quiet now so I sit back once again to listen.

A banging door breaks the silence of my reverie as boys clamor noisily from the house into the yard. So much for my peaceful afternoon, I think, as they loudly discuss the rules of the game they are about to play. I can’t help but smile as I listen to them laughing as they chase each other through the yard. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I would have been doing that very same thing on a sunny, Sunday afternoon.

The sun is beginning to set now. It tinges the sky with hues of pink and orange and the clouds that were once fluffy and white are now a deep purple shade. I sit here a little longer, I don’t want to get up because I have enjoyed this quiet afternoon so much. But now the breeze begins to feel a little cooler as the sun begins to go down. Oh, well, time to get ready for church any way. But I thank God for the times like these that He sends us. Just quiet little moments, gentle breezes, and rickety old swings.


By Linda Dean 

  

Have you ever just sat and listened to kids playing together? Some of the things they say to each other can be really funny sometimes. Unfortunately, they can also be hurtful. I’ve never understood why children want to be so mean. It can start at a very young age, you sometimes see children as young as 3 or 4 calling names, and it often times continues throughout their young adult years. And it’s not just each other that they spew their venomous poison at. I’ve been the victim of a teenager’s sarcasm on more than one occasion; which makes me want to run to my mother and beg forgiveness.

I’m certainly not without sin. When I was a teen, I gave my parents plenty of grief due to my unruly tongue. As an adult, I still have trouble “taming my tongue” sometimes. I lose control of my temper and say things I don’t mean; or I might even find myself just saying something that sounds completely ignorant and wishing right away that I could suck it back in like a vacuum. It’s at those times that I wish I could put a bandaid on my tongue; or better yet maybe a big piece of duct tape. Maybe that would stop me from saying some of the stupid things I say sometimes. I doubt it, but maybe it would at least help a little.

God’s word says: But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. James 3:8 (NKJV) The battle of the tongue is an on-going, everyday fight. It takes constant prayer. God knows our struggles and He’s there with us.

His word also says: Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:21 (NKJV). I believe that God wants us to use our tongues to edify each other; not merely by flattery or by paying lip service, but by actually lifting each other up and showing God’s love to each other. I guess it’s kind of like the old adage “If you can’t say anything good, don’t say anything at all.” That’s not always easy. It’s something I’ll certainly have to work on, but with God’s help I’ll get there one day.

This is something that I’m also trying to pass on to my own children and it hurts me when I see them make some of the same mistakes that I’ve made; but I realize that they will have to make their own mistakes in life. They are going to say things that hurt people as well as be hurt themselves many times. Oh, if only it were true that everything could be fixed with a bandaid or duct tape!

By Linda Dean

 

It’s that time of year again, time for sweethearts, candy, flowers and all the other mushy, lovie dovie fluff and stuff that goes along with Valentine’s Day. You’ve gotta love it! I got to spend the morning with my oldest grandchild Saturday making homemade Valentine’s. We had so much fun cutting and pasting and coloring our masterpieces that were being made with love for our special somebodies. Precious times!

I remember hating Valentine’s Day when I was her age. I was a shy, awkward child. Being a bit of an introvert, I dreaded the thought of having to hand my valentines out to the other students, which is what we actually had to do back in those days. I was also a tomboy and didn’t really care for all the hearts and flowers that the other little girls seemed to love. I would rather play tag or king of the hill or some other sport than to sit by some little boy and have him hold my hand or, Heaven forbid, try to kiss me. Of course that would change as I grew older. When I became a teenager boys didn’t seem so hideous anymore. I somehow seemed to never have a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day though. So I would sit and watch as the other girls would receive flowers or balloons (the florists were actually still able to make deliveries to the students back then) and wonder if I would ever find my true love who would shower me with tokens of his affection. One year I did receive a bouquet from a boy who had just broken up with me two days before Valentine’s Day. This really confused me because he also sent a much larger, nicer bouquet to his new girlfriend whom he also spent the day walking the halls of the school hand in hand, looking like he was so in-love. His friend told me later that he had sent me the flowers because he felt sorry for breaking up with me so close to Valentine’s Day. If I had known then what I know now, I would have accepted his gift for the sweet gesture that I’m sure it was meant to be; however, at the time I just wished he had not even bothered.

A few years later I would get the best Valentine’s gift ever. It was the night I went out on my first date with the man I would later marry (I can just see you rolling your eyes and hear the “oh, pleases” now). The funny thing about it is that he didn’t even realize that it was Valentine’s Day until we were already out on the date. He got so embarrassed and kept apologizing and saying if he had known he would have gotten me something. I assured him that my feelings were not hurt. I was just so happy to be with him, he could have picked up a rock from the ground and given it to me and I would have cherished it as though it were a precious gem!

This Valentine’s Day will mark the 25th anniversary of that first date and I have to say that he has given me so many special gifts throughout the years. He never fails to make me feel special on Valentine’s Day. I thank God for sending me my sweet Valentine.

The greatest gift he gave me was two beautiful boys and now I love to give them special little “happies” for Valentine’s. Even if it’s just something homemade. I’ve enjoyed doing this for them both; nonetheless, I had to make myself stop doing this for my oldest once he got married. I had to remind myself that he has his own Valentine’s now and it’s her place to make him feel special now. Thankfully, he got a good one and she does.

I can truly say that I no longer hate Valentine’s Day. I actually enjoy reading the sweet little cards that the kids exchange at school with the cutesy poems on them. I also enjoy reading the sweet, sweet Valentine’s that my Heavenly Father sends me in His Word. Some of my favorites are:

For God so loved the world that He sent His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16 (NKJV)

The Lord has appeared of old to me, saying: “Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.” Jeremiah 31:3 (NKJV)

As the Father love Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love. John 15:9 (NKJV)

Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. John 15:13

I could go on and on. His Word tells us so many times how much He loves us; and the awesome thing is that His love is an everlasting love. That’s the best Valentine I could ever hope for.

God bless you and happy Valentine’s Day!

By Linda Dean



Stormy Weather

I awoke one night with a start. I’m still not sure if it was the crash of the thunder outside or the sudden jarring of my bedroom door against the wall as my son burst into the room in a terrible fright. Either way, I had bolted from the bed and was now running across the room shouting “what’s wrong?” It took me a few seconds to move from the dream world of the deep sleep that I had been in to reality and realize that we were not being invaded and that the end of the world had indeed not begun. It was just a storm.


I stood there for a moment or two while I collected myself and let my heartbeat slow back down to somewhere near the regular rate of a rational human being. I looked at my son who was now looking at me as though he thought I had completely lost my mind. “It’s ok,” I assured him, “It’s just a thunderstorm.” He looked at the window as the lightning flashed. I could tell that he was not so sure whether to believe me or not. Then he looked at me. “It’s ok.” I reiterated, “It will be over soon. Go back to bed.” He still didn’t look so sure, but he obediently complied. I couldn’t help but smile a little watching him leave the room as this reminded me of how my own mother used to do this same thing for me.


I was wide awake by this time so I decided to see if I could have a better look to tell just how bad this storm really was. I walked into the kitchen and peered out the window. The electricity had gone out so the whole neighborhood was pitch black. The only time you could see a thing was when the lightning lit the sky. The wind was howling and the rain was beating on the roof like a snare drum. The flash of the lightning split the sky, lighting up the room, then seconds later the crashing roar of the thunder shook the house, rattling the window panes. It was all very frightening. I felt completely helpless as I stood there in the dark in my kitchen looking out into the dark, stormy night. I could hear the wind, see the rain and the lightning, but I really could not tell what was going on out there; and it really didn’t matter because I had no control over it whatsoever. I decided to take my own advice and, after saying a little prayer for our safety, I went back to bed and tried not to worry about it. It was just a storm. It would pass.


It’s not the thunderstorms themselves that I hate so much. Lightning and thunder can actually be kind of exciting sometimes. And there’s nothing as comforting as rain on the roof on a sleepy Sunday afternoon. No, it’s just not knowing what’s coming that scares me; that and not having any control of the situation. But then, I suppose that’s the way it is in life sometimes.


I often find myself fighting battles in this life that can be compared to storms. Sometimes they are mild like a spring shower or a summer afternoon rain, perhaps these are just little gifts from God sent to refresh me or draw me nearer to Him. Other times they are more like strong thunderstorms; I can hear the wind and thunder, see the rain and lightning, but I’m not in control. Still other times I have felt like my life has been lifted up in a tornado and is being spun completely out of control. It felt like I was going to lose everything or my world was going to end. It was then that I cried out to Jesus. I had to completely let go and trust in Him. But no matter how big or small my storm was, He was always there with me. The same way He was there watching over my family that night, He’s always there, watching over us through the storms of our lives. Whether it is just a shower or a category 4 hurricane, He’s always there, waiting for us to cry out to Him.


I believe that’s what He wants us to do during the various storms of our lives. His word says: Then they cry out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distresses. He calms the storm, so that its waves are still. Psalm 107:28-29 (NKJV)


When I was a child I used to sing “Jesus Loves Me” over and over until the storm was gone. It somehow made me feel safe. As an adult I am often tempted to do this still, but I find that prayer works better now. I do find myself sometimes praying short prayers repeatedly when I get really frightened, though; like “Lord, please keep us safe, Lord please keep us safe. It’s my idea of “praying without ceasing”. I don’t think it matches God’s idea, however, and I am working on having more faith during those times. I’m hoping that the day will come soon that I will be able to sleep soundly through a thunderstorm. Just in time for hot flashes!

By Linda Dean
 

 

When you’re in a crisis situation, who is the first person you call on? Spouse, friend, Mom? I found myself in such a situation not long ago as I was driving home one day and, not wanting to disturb my husband at work, I decided to call one of my sisters. Well, she didn’t answer so I moved on to sister number 2. No luck there either, but that’s ok, I had a third sister. Same thing. Arggghhh!!! I hate voice mail!!! What could I do? I was desperate? I had hit a wall this time and really needed to talk to someone! I thought about Mom but she had been under a lot of stress lately and I didn’t want to add this to her. No, I couldn’t call her.


Then a thought crossed my mind, “Why don’t you pray about it?” I admit I had already thought about that as soon as the situation occurred but had stuffed the thought away, thinking I would just wait and share it all with God during my quiet time with Him; as if He didn’t already know about it. But now I was desperate and praying didn’t sound like a bad idea so I unleashed on God. I started blubbering and crying and telling him the whole pathetic story, while waving one hand around in frantic gestures (I did manage to keep one hand on the steering wheel). I had prayed while driving down the road before, but usually quietly to myself. This time I must have made quite the spectacle of myself as I cried, yelled, and yes, even pounded the steering wheel with my fist a couple of times. I was very frustrated. I probably should have pulled over. I didn’t dare make eye contact with any of the cars that passed by on the four lane highway. They probably thought there was a crazy lady on the loose. Oh well, I didn’t care at the time. I was a wreck and it’s a wonder that I didn’t cause one.


I blubbered on and finally got it all out; then I was quiet. That was when God was able to start speaking to me. “Are you finished?” I felt Him ask. “Yes, Lord”, I answered timidly; feeling somewhat ashamed of the fit I had just pitched. “Good,” He answered, “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me.” And then He ministered to me in a way that no one on this Earth could have done. Did He answer all my questions or solve all my problems right away? No. But such a peace came over me that I knew that, no matter what, He was still in control. Somehow, some way it was all going to be taken care of in His time, in His way and that was fine with me.


Why had I not called on Him sooner? His word says Call to me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know. Jeremiah 33:3 (NKJV). I guess I just needed to step out in faith and make that call.


Now, I’m not saying that I won’t call my sisters or husband the next time I find myself in a crisis situation. We all need to have our “prayer warriors” that we can turn to in our time of need; there is certainly nothing wrong with that. I just think I’ll save myself some trouble, and maybe a little road rage, and make that my second call next time.

by Linda Dean
 

I got to witness a miracle yesterday. I don’t know why that should amaze me so, but it does. I know that God is just a capable to perform miracles today as He was during Moses’ day; but, nonetheless there I sat in awestruck wonder praying “Thank you, Lord” as I realized He had once again listened to our prayers.

My sister had been on my mind for several weeks though I didn’t know at the time exactly why. She would be on my mind especially during my prayer times so I would always pray for her. Usually just something simple like “Lord, please bless her and her family and keep them safe.” But that never seemed to satisfy. The burden was still there. I truly believe that God does that on purpose when He wants us to really pray for someone. I had no idea what to pray for her, however, and she, being a very private person would only tell me that everything was fine when I called her up to ask. But God kept laying her on my heart so I kept praying.

She finally told me in December that she had a kidney stone as was going to have lithotripsy. She said it so casually that it sounded as if it were no big deal, just a simple procedure. She mentioned that it would be in January sometime and that was the last she spoke of it. I had a nagging suspicion that there was more to it but made a mental note to pray about it and chose to let it go.

My aunt called me two days before my sister’s lithotripsy to let me know that she was able to get more details of the story. She had stones in both kidneys. Not just small, passible stones. Large, dangerous stones. The largest of which was about the size a quarter. Her condition was a lot worse than she was letting us know. She could possibly loose a kidney or it could even be life threatening. The doctor was not very optimistic and believed that it would take several treatments to get the largest stone. Why hadn’t she told us?!

I started praying as soon as I got off the phone. “Lord, please work a miracle here.” I thought about the doctor and his lack of optimism. “Lord, show him that You can do anything. That all things are possible with You.” I know I wasn’t the only one praying either. She was covered in prayer. And I can’t speak for everyone, but I felt at peace about it.

When the procedure was complete the doctor came out to speak with us. He looked as though he didn’t know exactly what to say but said he was “cautiously optimistic” and that the procedure went better than expected. He was able to get most of the large stone and she would probable only need one more treatment. “Halleluiah! Thank you, Jesus!” I wanted to shout, but I just said a silent prayer thanking God. He is so good! All praise goes to Him! I am so amazed by Him! He knew exactly what she needed and He was right there with her and provided her need. Don’t tell me my God is an old testament God. Don’t tell me he’s dead. He’s alive and well and living in me! And he still does miracles!

…but with God all things are possible. Matt 19:26 (NKJV)

By Linda Dean
 

I don’t know what my daddy must have been thinking about sometimes; but then again he could probably say the same thing about me. He used to get some of the craziest ideas in his head. One of those ideas was to teach me how to drive a standard shift vehicle. Mind you, I was only 14 years old at the time and didn’t know how to drive any kind of vehicle. So his idea was that my first driving lesson should be in “old yeller”.

Now let me describe old yeller to you; she was an older (not sure what year) model GMC, four on the floor, bench seat, no power steering, big, yellow truck that daddy had bought from some man he knew. Maybe the plan was to fix her up, maybe it was all he could afford at the time, either way, he loved that truck. What possessed him to let me drive it, I guess the good Lord only knows.

So off we went, jerking, halting, grinding gears and all. I didn’t do so bad as long as I stayed around 20 miles per hour and didn’t have to shift much or didn’t have to stop on any hills. I ground a few gears and pretty much wore out the clutch but I was kind of getting the hang of it when all of a sudden I noticed that we had come to the end of our little country road. There was no room to turn around. I could feel the sweat on my palms. I swallowed hard as I looked at the stretch of highway that teed ahead of me.

“What do I do now, Daddy?” I asked nervously.

“Go ahead and take a right here then you can take the next road to the left. It leads back home.” He replied. He had said it so casually, as if I had been driving my whole life.

I sat there a moment my heart beating loudly in my throat then said, “But Daddy, that’s the highway. I can’t drive on the highway. I don’t even have my license.”

“It’ll be ok.” He laughed.

I wasn’t so sure, but I cautiously pulled out, or maybe I should say jerk and chugged out onto the highway then ground my way through the gears. I had never been so nervous in all my life as I watched for my turn. I knew it wasn’t very far, maybe a quarter of a mile. There it was! But the bad thing was there was also a car coming in the other lane as well as several cars behind me (20 mph on the highway, you could imagine the spectacle I already was) and I was not good at stopping so in the excitement I guess I must have turned a little too soon. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I remember Daddy yelling “hit the brake, hit the brake!” Well, I thought I was hitting the brake. Turns out I was on the clutch and the gas the whole time. I went through the ditch and over a stop sign and finally came to a stop in the middle of the dirt road that I was supposed to turn on. Somehow (by the grace of God) I had managed to not hit a single car or tree!

We sat there for a minute or two, daddy and I. Trying to think of something to break the silence I said “Well, I made my turn.” He didn’t say anything. I don’t think he was amused. I couldn’t look at him, didn’t dare to. Then we got out and surveyed the damage. There were skid marks through the ditch, the poor stop sign was demolished, and old yeller had a brand new ding in her right front fender. Oh well, it matched some of the others on the back fender, just kind of blended in. Other than that, everything seemed ok. They made vehicles a lot stronger back then. That same accident now would probably have required a tow truck, and have cost thousands of dollars in damages just to get it running again. We simply got back in after letting all the on-lookers know we were ok and Daddy drove us home.

We rode home in silence. I wondered if he would ever forgive me and if I would ever learn how to drive after this little fiasco. But as daddy’s do, he forgave me. It didn’t take long and I was back in his good graces. My daddy loved me, after all. And he did teach me how to drive in mama’s automatic and that was all good until the incident with the tree, but that’s another story!

By Linda Dean

 

I just love a good movie. I’m especially a sucker for the feel-good small guy conquers the world films. One of my favorites is the 2006 blockbuster The Pursuit of Happyness. In the movie, based on the memoirs of Wallstreet Stockbroker Chris Gardner, a man loses everything. His career fails, his wife leaves, and he and his young son are left homeless. We watch as they face struggle after struggle just to stay together in the pursuit of the American dream. Gardner’s hard work pays off, however, and he receives the job that will eventually lead to a multi-million dollar career. In the end, he and his son walk off into the sunset laughing and joking; you know that they are finally, truly happy. Sigh. Beautiful movie.

The pursuit of happiness seems to be big business these days. Everywhere you look there is something being marketed to our carnal pleasures. As a Christian, sometimes the temptations are just too much to bear. It’s easy to develop the worldly view of if it feels good, do it. After all, God wants us to be happy, right? Hmmmm, I’m not sure if that’s number one on His agenda. So do I think He wants us to be sad, depressed, or maybe forlorn? Certainly NOT! I think what He wants for us more than happiness is joy.

What’s the difference? Webster’s describes joy as the emotion evoked by well-being. That’s not bad. The Greek word for Joy is chara which means cheerfulness or calm delight. Better. King David said of joy; You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11 (NKJV). I like that one best. The difference between joy and happiness is that happiness is temporary, joy lasts. Happiness is a mood and depends on circumstances; joy can be felt on even the darkest of days. Happiness is fleeting; joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit.

So, what does this mean? I believe it means being willing to give up our own personal, yes, maybe even selfish, desires and follow Jesus’ example and pray “not as I will, but as You will.” Matt. 26:39 (NKJV). I know from experience that that is one of the hardest things to pray. You won’t always get what you want. But you will get what you need. And the joy that comes from being willing to serve God rather than yourself is so much better than the temporary happiness anything this world could ever offer.

By Linda Dean

 

 

My son asks the same question every morning while getting ready for school; “do I need my jacket today?” As a mom, “chief meteorologist” has become just one more of the job titles that I have taken on for my family. With our Mississippi winter weather, however, you have to check the weather daily. You never know quite what to expect. We’ll have two or three balmy 80 degree days only to wake up one morning to find that it’s a chilly 32 degrees outside. We’re constantly switching our central unit from air to heat, and unless you check the forecast you never know what to wear from day to day. It’s just plain maddening sometimes.

Thinking about this makes me wonder if this may be how God feels when my spiritual temperature constantly goes up and down. There are some days that I feel so close to Him that it’s almost as if I’m on fire. On those days I’m usually studying my Bible, not just reading it, regularly. My prayers feel like conversations with God and they’re being answered. I can feel His presence in my life. I love those days. But then I start to cool down. It doesn’t happen overnight. I just start slipping a little here and there. Maybe my mind was somewhere else during my Bible study, or perhaps I let other things become more important and just can’t find the time to study my Bible at all. My prayers start sounding more like “God is good, God is great, bless him, bless her, bless us all, amen.” The longer I let it go, the cooler I get.

But it’s ok as long as I never let myself get completely cold. I just get sort of “lukewarm”. But wait; doesn’t the Bible say something about being lukewarm? Yes, Revelation 3:15-16 says I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish that you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth. (NKJV) Wow, those are pretty strong words! My feeling lukewarm is not ok with God. It’s a big deal to Him. Such a big deal that He says He would vomit me out of His mouth. He would rather that I be cold. But I don’t want to be cold. I’ve been there before and, believe me, it’s a lonely place. I would much rather be hot. So, how do I get back there? Reading on, verse 19 says As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. Therefore be zealous and repent.

Ok, repent then. Sure, I can do that. After all, I’ve had to do it many times before. This led me to another scripture reference; Psalm 51:1-2,10-12 Have mercy upon me, O God, According to Your lovingkindness; According to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Your presence, and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous Spirit. That’s hot! It’s almost as though I can feel my temperature begin to rise as I pray “God, please don’t cast me away from Your presence, don’t take Your Holy Spirit away. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation.” This is what God wants for us. He doesn’t want us to be lukewarm, but He doesn’t want us to be cold either. He wants us to be on fire for Him. To feel the warmth of His love. He loves us. So much that He gave His son for us. Now that’s hot, hot, hot!!!

By Linda Dean

 

I am the queen of unfinished projects. Oh, I always have the best of intentions but somehow things never turn out quite the way I plan. I like to try new things but then I find that I’m not quite as talented as I would like to be. I’ve tried painting and thought I wasn’t too bad until I saw the way it was supposed to be done by a real artist. I tried sculpting, that was a train wreck. I’ve even tried photography and, well, let’s just say that I’m not only not photogenic by I’m also not photographic!

I was beginning to feel like a complete failure until I read a quote that a friend of mine posted on her wall on Facebook (thanks Amy). “Success is when you go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.”-Winston Churchill. Wow, that perked me right up! Wasn’t Winston Churchill considered one of the most successful men of his time? So, what could he have possibly failed at? A quick Google search brought up the well known facts; WWII hero, British Prime Minister, Nobel Prize winner. He was also a historian, a writer and an artist. A very successful man. And then there it was. He struggled in school and had a speech impediment that he had to overcome. So, he did have struggles in his life. And with those struggles, I’m sure there was failure. But despite the failures he must have remained enthusiastic because he went on to become one of the most successful men in history. That’s inspiring.

In the end, I may not be Winston Churchill, but I’m pretty enthusiastic. And besides that, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength (Php 4:13). So, I think I’ll just keep on trying new things. God has a plan for me. He’s going to reveal my true talents sooner or later. I haven’t tried singing yet; wonder if they still need those altos in the choir, hmmmm.

By Linda Dean

 

Did you ever wonder if God has a sense of humor? I believe that He does. I think He laughs along with us often. So many of the joyous occasions in our lives are little gifts from Him. Presents, happies, God Winks, we all have our names for them.

One of those occasions came for me on a beautiful, sunny August day a couple of years ago when my three sisters and two of our dear aunts decided to take an adventure together. Now, let me explain, we were six “mature” ladies from Mississippi. And by mature I mean that we all seemed to have our heads screwed on straight (up to that point anyway). We all had families, jobs, social activities, or other responsibilities that kept our feet on the ground and we had our priorities right. But for some reason we decided in our 30’s, 40’s, and yes, even 50’s that we needed a little more adventure in our lives. So, there we sat in a raft floating down the Ocoee River.

Now, I had canoed on one of our local rivers and rafted on a very calm river before so I was thinking that this was going to be a piece of cake. So there we were, tooling along, so far no problems. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too hot. We hit a mild rapid or two, no big deal. I thought “I can handle this”. We got splashed by the icy river water. It was exhilarating. Then things started to change.

The noise was almost deafening. It was the sound of whitewater. I had heard it before but always from the safety of the shore. This time I was actually in a raft, floating down the river and I don’t know which was louder, the thunder of the river ahead or the drumming of my heart in my ears as the adrenaline began to flow through my body like an electrical current.

They call this rapid “Godzilla”. Our guide told us that it was because this was the same route that was used during the 1996 Olympics and when the Japanese tourists saw the size and speed of the rapid they nicknamed it Godzilla because they said it was a “monster”.

The guide had been kind enough to warn us that this particular spot in the river was approaching and had even given us very detailed instructions on how to handle it when we got there. But now I’m wondering if I’m going to even remember those instructions and with all this noise I doubt that we’re going to be able to hear him anyway. So I quickly made up my mind to just paddle like crazy and hope for the best!

Just as we were approaching the monster rapid the last part of our guide’s instruction’s suddenly shot through my mind. They were specifically “we do NOT want to hit this rapid in the center, so we’re going to aim for the edge.” I don’t know what went wrong with that plan but suddenly we were staring straight down Godzilla’s throat! Dead center, that is. Our guide, who had been so calm and courteous to this point, was now screaming “all forward hard, all forward hard”. Believe me, I was “all forwarding” as hard as I could!

I remember praying “Lord, Jesus, if you’ll just get us through this alive, I promise…” I looked up just in time to see what appeared to be a wall of water rolling in front of me. The next thing I knew my world went dark as the whole front of the raft, which is where one of my sisters and I happened to be sitting, was completely submerged. But I kept on rowing. Hard forward, hard forward. Suddenly we popped up out of the water and were now suspended in mid-air. I’m not sure how long we hung there but it seemed like an eternity. I looked over at my sister. She had a look of sheer terror on her face and she was rowing away franticly at nothing but air! The funny thing was, so was I!

We finally came down with a splash into the churning water below. Our experienced guide, his voice now raised several octaves higher, shouted “hard forward, hard back, left forward, right forward” and so on until he was finally able to help us break free from the deadly claws of Godzilla and row safely to shore. I don’t know who was more thankful to see dry land we six ladies or our weary guide. But after a few “thank you Jesus’s” and some much needed rest we were able to finish the rest of the route with ease.

The guide laughingly told us later that we “liketa” died, but I know that God was there the whole time. I truly believe that if He has a sense of humor, He must have gotten a couple of belly laughs as He watched over us during our adventure that day. I’m so thankful for this gift. It’s a memory I will treasure for the rest of my life. It still makes me smile every time I think about how six Mississippi gals “liketa” scared a Tennessee river guide to death.

By Linda Dean

 

Did you ever get a song stuck in your head? It just plays over and over. Makes you crazy! I’ve had one stuck in my head for several days. I was sitting in the carpool line waiting to pick my son up from school when I heard it. You may know the song. It plays on KLove often, What Love Really Means by JJ Keller. I’d heard it many times before and sang along with it but never really paid much attention to the words but I guess that God must have been trying to show me something on this particular day because they shot through my heart like an arrow and pierced me deeply.

The first line of the song speaks of a kid who “cries in the corner where nobody sees”. The mental image of that alone touched me. It says he has a story no one would believe and that he prays to God to send someone just to love him for who he is. My heart was broken. I looked at the kids walking around the schoolyard. How many of them have that same prayer and we don’t even know it? They get picked on, laughed at, called names, and sometimes even beat up for being different. Sometimes it’s because of a learning disability like Autism or dyslexia, other times it’s because they come from a poor family and can’t afford the latest greatest pair of shoes or whatever. Mostly, however, it seems that they attack each other because of the way they look. Boys are just as guilty as girls in this. Children can be cruel. Sometimes they choose to look different and the other children do not understand that. Whatever the case is, I believe that on the inside they are all crying out to be loved. All children want to be loved for who they are.

I listened to the next two lines of the song as she sang about a woman whose husband left her and a man waiting on death row to be executed and my heart was broken all the more. For a moment my thoughts turned inward. To be quite honest there are things in my life right now that I’m hurting over and if I were to speak them out loud when someone asked for prayer request I’m afraid I would expose myself for the big ole mess that I am. So I usually just raise my hand when they ask for “unspoken”. I’ve given them to God. He’s taking care of them.

The song made me start thinking about the people around me; however, and I took a quick look around. The woman in the rearview mirror was smiling as she chatted away on her cell phone, didn’t seem to have any worries. The woman beside me had two small children and a dog, she looked a little frazzled. Yeah, I bet she had a story to tell. I couldn’t really see into the cars ahead of me, but as I looked at the rows of car after car I wondered about the people inside. Are they hurting? Are they lonely, afraid, sick? Are they lost? What’s going on on the inside? I see a lot of these people most every day. I go to church with some of them. I sit with them at ballgames. We speak. They’re nice, friendly people. But do I really know them?

Now, I’m not naïve enough to think that I can have an intimate friendship with everyone I meet. What I’m wondering, though is am I paying enough attention to those in need around me? What do I do when I see that single mother at the ballgame sitting alone because no one else will sit with her? Do I go and ask if I can sit with her? I’m too shy. That’s WAY out of my comfort zone. But what if she’s lonely? What if she just wants to be loved? And what if Jesus wants to use me to show her His love? Then it’s worth it. Next time I see her I will say a little prayer and take a chance. Who knows maybe Jesus wants to use her to show me something?

Lord, help me step out of my comfort zone and realize those opportunities to show your love. Please give me a heart for the brokenhearted and help me to love them through your eyes.

By Linda Dean


 

My 5 year old granddaughter, Emily Grace, loves to draw. She draws beautiful pictures for me and the whole time she’s drawing, she’s usually chatting away telling the most elaborate stories to go along with the pictures. I have to say she has quite the vivid imagination.

One Sunday morning she sat with me during the worship service at church. Just as the music portion was over and the preacher was about to begin his message she leaned over and asked “Gran, can I draw?” It was only then that I noticed that she had taken the “Sermon Notes” portion out of my bulletin and was preparing to use it as a doodle pad. “Just a minute, Baby.” I said, as a scrambled to find scrap paper. No such luck. “Oh well, what’ll hurt?” I thought, “Go ahead, that’s fine” I told her. So she doodled away happily then handed me her “masterpiece” for my approval. I have to admit that, at the time, my attention was divided and I didn’t pay close attention to the picture. I simply saw two stick figures, smiled and whispered “that’s nice, honey” then put the picture away in the back of my Bible and made a mental note to take a closer look and get my story later.

After church, as good Christians do, we went out to eat then spent the rest of the afternoon just relaxing and spending time. As usual “time” got away from me. The picture was forgotten, for now.

Some time passed, I’m not sure how long. But I decided one day that it was time to clean out my Bible. I have a tendency to let several weeks’ worth of bulletins accumulate for reasons unknown. Anyway, as I was cleaning out the clutter I came across Emily Grace’s picture. “Oh my goodness,” I thought, “I never got my story. Oh well, guess she can still make up a story to go along with it.”

So I decided to put it away for safe keeping until the next time she was over at our house, but as I took a closer look I just stopped, staring in awe at the little stick figure drawing I held in my hand. My heart was torn as the tears filled my eyes. This picture told its own story. It needed no explaining.

“She gets it!” My heart sang as I took a closer look. Just two simple stick figures. The first one was a little girl in a polka-dot dress, “that must be Emily Grace”, but it was the second one that gripped my heart so lovingly. It was a man with a beard and a sash. You could tell that this was supposed to be Jesus. And He had a thought bubble and in the thought bubble she had drawn a heart. That was it. Just a heart. As if to say “Jesus loves me, this I know.” She gets it. She really, really gets it! And oh how I want it too!

Oh to have the faith of a child! Isn’t that what God wants for us? To be childlike? To have faith that is childlike anyway? In Matthew 18:3 Jesus said “Assuredly I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.(NKJV) Emily Grace’s picture has helped me to see this in a whole new light. Isn’t it amazing how God can use the simplest things to teach us the most important lessons? Lord, I pray, give me childlike faith to believe “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

By Linda Dean

 

I kneel to pray, but where to start? So many needs. So much sorrow. Why so much grief, Lord? Why such pain? A gentle breeze begins to blow as if to say “hush, child, heaven’s a comin’.”

I carry on with a heavy heart listing out each and every need. There seems to be so very many. It’s almost more than I can bear. Has this world gone completely crazy? I pause for a moment to clear my head and in the stillness I hear “hush, child, heaven’s a comin’.”

I sit for a while in the quiet and just listen. Just my God, the wind in the trees, and me. I feel at peace as he speaks to me; “hush, child, heaven’s a comin’.”

The sorrow melts away along with the pain and grief. Gone also are guilt and shame. My eyes are no longer on the worries of this world. They are His to bear as He whispers to me “hush, child, heaven’s a comin’.”

I enjoy this moment, basking in His glory, wishing it could last forever. But this is not heaven yet. This is still an imperfect world. The pain and sorrow will return. Suffering and shame are still the result of sin. But I can hold on to the peace because of the promise; “hush, child, heaven’s a comin’.”

Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God.

By Linda Dean
 

I read a verse of scripture today that I really like. John 1:12 – But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name. That says that I, as a believer in Christ, am a child of God. Well, that makes me wonder, since God is a king, does that make me a princess? Hmmmm, I guess it’s according to who you ask. Ask my husband on a good day and he’ll say yes “darling” you’re definitely a princess but on other days I dare not even ask! I could ask my kids but, well what can I say, I was blessed with two boys who are 100 percent boys and they would probably just look at me as though my head fell off and wonder if I had lost my mind. If I asked my granddaughter she would tell me that I am too old to be a princess so I have to be a queen (gotta love em). So I’ll just have to mull over that a little longer on my own.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I deserve to be a princess. I don’t deserve to be considered a child of God at all. I guess that may be one reason that this verse touched me so deeply when I read it. Jesus gave me the right to become a child of God and all I had to do was believe and receive! That’s wonderful!

In the fairytales the princesses are always waiting for their prince to come along and sweep them off their feet and carry them away to the castle to live happily ever after. Here in the real world my prince came 24 years ago and I thank God for blessing me with a good husband. But in a sense, my Prince also came over 2000 years ago. He died on the cross to pay the price for my sin, was buried, and rose again on the third day. I have the promise that He’s coming back for me one day, princess or not. Then I’ll be with Him in eternity forever and ever and we will live happily ever after.

So in the end I suppose you can say that I am a princess, but I think I prefer to be called a child of God. Or “your majesty” will do nicely too.

By Linda Dean

 

While out for a walk the other day I noticed a couple walking ahead of me. I’m not sure why, but right away something about this couple caught my eye. Something seemed interesting. Intrigued, or maybe just a bit nosey, I began to observe them as I walked along behind them. They were an older couple. He was tall and thin and appeared to be a no nonsense kind of guy. He walked along as if he meant business with a stride that seemed to say “don’t bother me.” She, on the other hand, was a little shorter and was what my grandmother would have called “pleasantly plump”. As she walked along she chattered away happily, moving her hands all around in grand gestures.

She talked about everything from the weather, to her hair, to her bridge club. You name it, she touched on it. I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine his stony glare as he trudged along silently. Not even a nod or the obligatory “uh-huh”. Just silence. But she kept chattering away, smiling happily all the while.

The scene ahead of me reminded me of a cartoon I saw once when I was a kid about a bulldog and a fiest. As the two dogs would walk along the bulldog would completely ignore the little fiest who would just chatter away endlessly. Every now and then the bulldog would stop and say “eh shut up” but the poor little fiest never seemed to care. He was just happy to be with the bulldog. All he would do is pause and look at the camera and say “Spike is my Friend.”

As the story progresses, however, the bulldog turns out to be a coward and the little fiest saves the day by facing a boxing kangaroo all by himself and the tables are turned.

I couldn’t help but compare this poor little lady to that poor little dog as I continued to watch them. It went on this way for a while longer. Walk, walk, walk. Chatter, chatter, chatter. I kept thinking that sooner or later surely he was going to at least acknowledge her in some small way. But that didn’t happen.

Then suddenly he stopped, which caused me quite a panic because I had to think quickly! What could I do to stop also and not seem obvious? Oh, what do you know, my shoe needed to be tied! I thought he was finally going to acknowledge her. Wrong again.

He turned, looked at her and said “what’s for supper?” Without missing a beat, she answered “chicken.” He grunted his approval, turned and continued walking on as before. That was that, all he had to say.

She stood there for just a moment longer and I watched her. Was she upset? I was afraid she might cry. But no, a broad smile spread across her face and she winked at me. I almost expected her to say “Spike is my friend.” But she didn’t. She just walked on a little faster to catch up with him and on they went as before. Walk, walk, walk, chatter, chatter, chatter. She would not be so easily deterred.

Well, if she wasn’t going to be mad I guess I would have to be mad enough for both of us! “Where’s a boxing Kangaroo when you need one?” I thought. But of course that didn’t happen either.

Taking matters into my own hands, I decided that I would just show him! So I walked a little faster and decided to throw a little slur as I passed him. So, just as I walked past him I made good and sure he was looking at me and I yelled “Spike!”

He stopped and raised a quizzical eyebrow, looking from his me to his wife. She looked as though she were stifling a laugh, but kindly said “honey, he’s deaf as a doornail. He can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

It was only then that I noticed the hearing aids in his ears. Boy did I feel dumb. She had been chattering away the whole time just to hear herself talk. She knew he couldn’t hear her.

Well, I certainly learned a lesson about keeping my big nose where it belongs and I’ll certainly think twice before I jump to conclusions about the way things appear. Or at least make sure Spike is truly Spike before I turn into a boxing kangaroo!

By Linda Dean

 

Life always seems to be filled with the extremely ordinary. There are always dishes to be done, beds to be made, homework, laundry, football or soccer practice, dance, and these days most of us work a full-time job. We all have our routines and, for the most part, it stays the same, day in, day out; extraordinarily "ordinary”.

That's the way it was for me until God picked me up and shook me and changed my life for good. Or maybe I should say for "the good." Although He's still working on me (I think I'll always be a work in progress).

I would have to say that my life was pretty happy. I had a wonderful husband, two handsome boys, a great daughter-in-law, and a beautiful granddaughter. I enjoyed my job and the people I worked with. Things were pretty much going my way.

I was in my early 40's and decided that, since I wasn't getting any younger, it was time to start trying things I had always wanted to do. One of those things was to run in a 5K. So, I started training. I began to get healthier and for while I felt great.

In August of 2009, however, I began to feel tired. I thought that I might have been pushing myself too hard. Maybe I'm too old for this, I thought. So I slowed down a bit. It didn't help. I continually got worse. Then in October 2009 I found a lump under my left armpit. I thought it was strange and felt a little alarmed. My doctor assured me that it was an infection and we tried antibiotics for a while.

Long story short, it was not an infection. I was diagnosed with breast cancer on November 24, 2009. I was shocked. I questioned God. Why? How? What now? He didn't give me all the answers right away. He still hasn't given me all the answers. I don't know if He will ever give me the answers. But it doesn't seem to matter so much anymore because I know that no matter what He's holding me and He loves me and that's all that matters.

So over the next several months, needless to say, my ordinary life was turned upside down. We went through chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation (and I say "we” because my family was there the whole way). Not to mention numerous tests and hospital stays because of infections and all of those wonderful things you normally only hear about when you’re talking about people who are on the prayer lists at church or something, but oh yeah, now it's actually happening to me. Makes it a little more real. There were times when I was going through treatments when I would cry and say "I just want to feel normal again." I sure never thought I would hear myself say that.

Some time has passed now and things are beginning to get back to normal. I find myself wanting to complain every now and then when I find a mess someone has left, and believe me, I won't say that I haven't. But I do believe that I have been given the blessing of seeing just how precious life is and how special the people God gives us are. I pray that I can keep that perspective and make my life more ordinarily extraordinary.

by Linda Dean

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