Driving into work this morning, I noticed a bumper sticker on the rear of a car that has made me think and ponder and wonder all day. It was a simple black and white sticker that said, "How much?" I immediately had a strong desire to pull up next to the car and yell out to the driver, "How much what?" Being a senior copy editor can be a curse at times, such as when I have a strong urge to edit a bumper sticker on a car right in the middle of my morning commute on the interstate.
My mind has stumbled over that sticker today; my brain has been stuck in bumper sticker land. How much what? How much money? How much food? How much water? How much love? How much did the car cost? How much soap does it take to clean a dirty toddler? How much sunshine? How much mud? How much medicine? How much vacation time do I have? How much is enough? How much? How much? How much? How much what???
As the day has worn on, my "How much" focus has shifted a bit, and I find myself asking some much deeper questions. How much compassion do I have for the sick, the weak or the homeless? How much love do I show to others who are in difficult places in their lives? How much money do I give to help others in need? How much forgiveness do I extend when someone hurts me? How much acceptance do I demonstrate to people with different backgrounds or lifestyles? How much? How much? How much?
I wonder ... I wonder ... I wonder ... if God ever asks how much?
Monday, March 15, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Rolling Thunder
My not-so-fat-anymore wiener dog J.R. is terrified of thunder. I'm not talking just a little nervous or frightened when there is a loud clap or a sudden boom. I'm talking even a small little rumble, and he's shaking all over and finding somewhere to hide. When he first came to live with me, he was afraid of everything and everyone. He's improved so very much (I can actually vacuum now without him having a meltdown), but when it comes to thunder, fear consumes him.
Last weekend, we had rain and some thunder here in Kansas City. It was pretty minor compared to some of the storms I've lived through since moving here over 20 years ago, but there was a low rolling thunder that pierced the evening air. J.R. jumped from his perch in my lap and took off for the bedroom looking for a place where he would feel safe and secure. When I went to find him, he had his head and half of his body under my bed, shaking for all he was worth. I pulled him from his hiding spot, wrapped him a blanket, held him close and rocked him until his shaking subsided.
As we rocked, I had one of those "ah ha" moments ... you know the ones, when you realize a great truth that may well change who you are for the remainder of your life. I began to think of the thunder in my life, of the drenching rain that at times seems to be pursuing and following me, of my desire to run away and find a place to hide.
And as J.R. snuggled his head into the crook of my arm and finally drifted off to sleep, I had a profound revelation, a moment of truth. He felt safe and secure in my arms, cradled against me, tightly held, warm and safe. In the midst of the storm, he had found his spot ... his hiding place ... his refuge. In his fear, his port in the storm didn't shift or move ... J.R. was the one who ran and hid.
When the thunder rolls across the plains of my life, my knee-jerk response is to run and hide, to allow the fear to overtake me, to claim me, to disable me. And yet, my spot, my hiding place, my refuge never moves, never runs away, never leaves me or forsakes me. My God is bigger than the storms, stronger than the thunder and more than able to keep me safe and secure. He is always there, even in the middle of the drenching rain and the rolling thunder.
He is God ... and He is there.
Last weekend, we had rain and some thunder here in Kansas City. It was pretty minor compared to some of the storms I've lived through since moving here over 20 years ago, but there was a low rolling thunder that pierced the evening air. J.R. jumped from his perch in my lap and took off for the bedroom looking for a place where he would feel safe and secure. When I went to find him, he had his head and half of his body under my bed, shaking for all he was worth. I pulled him from his hiding spot, wrapped him a blanket, held him close and rocked him until his shaking subsided.
As we rocked, I had one of those "ah ha" moments ... you know the ones, when you realize a great truth that may well change who you are for the remainder of your life. I began to think of the thunder in my life, of the drenching rain that at times seems to be pursuing and following me, of my desire to run away and find a place to hide.
And as J.R. snuggled his head into the crook of my arm and finally drifted off to sleep, I had a profound revelation, a moment of truth. He felt safe and secure in my arms, cradled against me, tightly held, warm and safe. In the midst of the storm, he had found his spot ... his hiding place ... his refuge. In his fear, his port in the storm didn't shift or move ... J.R. was the one who ran and hid.
When the thunder rolls across the plains of my life, my knee-jerk response is to run and hide, to allow the fear to overtake me, to claim me, to disable me. And yet, my spot, my hiding place, my refuge never moves, never runs away, never leaves me or forsakes me. My God is bigger than the storms, stronger than the thunder and more than able to keep me safe and secure. He is always there, even in the middle of the drenching rain and the rolling thunder.
He is God ... and He is there.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Trial by Jury
I've never served on a jury. I've had to report for jury selection several times, including once for federal court, but I've never been chosen to serve. Most of the times, the jury was chosen before my number was called. Once, I was dismissed because my mom had recently passed away, and I was in tears throughout the entire selection process. I'm certain that the judge was concerned for my mental state and allowed me to step down.
Each time, as I sat and listened and observed the questioning process for the potential jurors, I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to be on trial for committing a crime. I cannot imagine the emotional upheaval that would be involved, especially if the accused was innocent and on trial for a serious enough crime that could destroy the remainder of his or her life.
Recently, I've experienced both acceptance and judgment in my life, and both outcomes have given me pause for deep contemplation concerning how we as humans are inclined to do life together. More often than not, we categorize and label our fellow man or woman according to a multitude of criteria ... skin color, profession, size of bank account, parent or non parent, married or single, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, and the list goes on and on.
Ultimately, when the layers are peeled back to reveal the core of who I truly am, none of the categorizations or labels even matter in the end. It is of no consequence how I am accepted or judged by a jury of my peers, but only how I am viewed in the eyes of God.
Each time, as I sat and listened and observed the questioning process for the potential jurors, I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to be on trial for committing a crime. I cannot imagine the emotional upheaval that would be involved, especially if the accused was innocent and on trial for a serious enough crime that could destroy the remainder of his or her life.
Recently, I've experienced both acceptance and judgment in my life, and both outcomes have given me pause for deep contemplation concerning how we as humans are inclined to do life together. More often than not, we categorize and label our fellow man or woman according to a multitude of criteria ... skin color, profession, size of bank account, parent or non parent, married or single, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, and the list goes on and on.
Ultimately, when the layers are peeled back to reveal the core of who I truly am, none of the categorizations or labels even matter in the end. It is of no consequence how I am accepted or judged by a jury of my peers, but only how I am viewed in the eyes of God.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
The first thing I do each morning is head to the bathroom, as I'm sure many people do. And every single morning, I wash my hands and stare into the mirror above the sink. Every single morning. Like the possibility exists that I may have changed physically somehow overnight ... thinner, heavier, grayer, younger, worse, better ... and on and on.
A few weeks ago, I had a revelation as I stared into the mirror on a bitterly cold January morning. I realized that my morning gaze into the mirror wasn't about overnight physical changes at all, but rather about something much more profound and life-changing. I realized that I was looking for something much deeper, something much more lasting. I've spent years of my life looking into the mirror searching for myself.
It's so easy to slip into the daily routine of life and to identify who I am by all kinds of tags or labels or names ... I'm a mom; I'm a Christian; I'm a writer; I'm a speaker; I'm a gardener. And while I fill all of those roles and more every day, who am I really? Down in the deepest recesses of my soul, in the place where only God can see and know my innermost thoughts and desires, who am I?
Perhaps the answer to that question lies in the journey of life; perhaps I will find it in the daily walk along the path. Perhaps I am ever-changing, always growing and constantly learning, and the answer will come at the end of the winding road that has been my life. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
For now, I will rise each morning and gaze into the mirror. I will look for me for a time. Then, I'll switch off the light, feed the dogs and have a cup of tea.
A few weeks ago, I had a revelation as I stared into the mirror on a bitterly cold January morning. I realized that my morning gaze into the mirror wasn't about overnight physical changes at all, but rather about something much more profound and life-changing. I realized that I was looking for something much deeper, something much more lasting. I've spent years of my life looking into the mirror searching for myself.
It's so easy to slip into the daily routine of life and to identify who I am by all kinds of tags or labels or names ... I'm a mom; I'm a Christian; I'm a writer; I'm a speaker; I'm a gardener. And while I fill all of those roles and more every day, who am I really? Down in the deepest recesses of my soul, in the place where only God can see and know my innermost thoughts and desires, who am I?
Perhaps the answer to that question lies in the journey of life; perhaps I will find it in the daily walk along the path. Perhaps I am ever-changing, always growing and constantly learning, and the answer will come at the end of the winding road that has been my life. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
For now, I will rise each morning and gaze into the mirror. I will look for me for a time. Then, I'll switch off the light, feed the dogs and have a cup of tea.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Just a Vapor
Last fall, my sister-in-law Charlotte passed away after a long battle with a neuromuscular disease. A few weeks before Christmas, my friend Karen lost her dad after many years of suffering from Alzheimer's disease. Exactly one week later, her mom passed away from what Karen truly believes was a broken heart after losing her husband of almost 60 years. In early January, my brother-in-law lost his fight with Parkinson's disease.
Seeing so much loss of life recently that has touched people I love and cherish has made me realize that our lives here on earth truly are but a vapor in the grand scheme of time and eternity. As I go about accomplishing the daily "stuff" that consumes me each day, I often wonder now how much of that "stuff" really matters, how much of it really helps my fellow travelers sharing the path of life with me.
If I live to be as old as my mother did, my life is more than half completed. I pray that my first 50 years have been ones that have been loving, unselfish, kind and compassionate. I pray that every single day that I am given I care more about others than I do about myself. I pray that I share the love of Christ in a passionate and driven manner, pointing the way to Him in every action, word and deed of my life. I pray that I surrender myself more and more to God and His plan for my life with every breath that He allows me to draw.
Only God knows the days He has planned for me and what the future holds. While my life is a but a vapor, God has the ability to take a simple vapor and turn it into an amazing manifestation of His breath. Breathe in me and through me, Lord, and use me, simple though I may be, to touch someone for you.
Seeing so much loss of life recently that has touched people I love and cherish has made me realize that our lives here on earth truly are but a vapor in the grand scheme of time and eternity. As I go about accomplishing the daily "stuff" that consumes me each day, I often wonder now how much of that "stuff" really matters, how much of it really helps my fellow travelers sharing the path of life with me.
If I live to be as old as my mother did, my life is more than half completed. I pray that my first 50 years have been ones that have been loving, unselfish, kind and compassionate. I pray that every single day that I am given I care more about others than I do about myself. I pray that I share the love of Christ in a passionate and driven manner, pointing the way to Him in every action, word and deed of my life. I pray that I surrender myself more and more to God and His plan for my life with every breath that He allows me to draw.
Only God knows the days He has planned for me and what the future holds. While my life is a but a vapor, God has the ability to take a simple vapor and turn it into an amazing manifestation of His breath. Breathe in me and through me, Lord, and use me, simple though I may be, to touch someone for you.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Through the Fog
For the past three mornings, I have awakened to the sight of dense fog blanketing our city. I've always thought that fog was kind of eery or spooky in an old horror movie sort of way. It is especially frightening to me to drive when the fog is so deep that it's hard to see the road or other cars ahead of me.
This week, a massive earthquake struck the small country of Haiti, causing untold death and devastation. Image after image of the unbelievable human suffering occurring there rolls across the television screen on an hourly basis, even days after the event occurred. In a country where poverty and disease were already major problems, the people now have to deal with so much more loss than ever before.
It's easy to change the channel as I sit in my comfortable living room in my small house that would be considered a mansion to many Haitians. It's easy to go about my daily life and not really think about the Haitians who are struggling to survive one more day ... without water or food or shelter. It's easy to tell myself that I "need" all the possessions I have.
What is hard is to listen to the voice of God whispering to me, calling to me, telling me to come out of the fog and pay attention to Him and to His children who are hurting. What is hard is to be willing to give up my "things" and go where He wants me to go. What is hard is allowing Him to give me a heart for the world, for the hurting, the homeless and the needy.
My prayer, my hope, my deepest longing is that I have the courage to follow the hard road ... to jump in and trust God to show me the next step ... to have the faith to know that He knows where the journey will lead and the road ahead ... to know that is all I need to know.
This week, a massive earthquake struck the small country of Haiti, causing untold death and devastation. Image after image of the unbelievable human suffering occurring there rolls across the television screen on an hourly basis, even days after the event occurred. In a country where poverty and disease were already major problems, the people now have to deal with so much more loss than ever before.
It's easy to change the channel as I sit in my comfortable living room in my small house that would be considered a mansion to many Haitians. It's easy to go about my daily life and not really think about the Haitians who are struggling to survive one more day ... without water or food or shelter. It's easy to tell myself that I "need" all the possessions I have.
What is hard is to listen to the voice of God whispering to me, calling to me, telling me to come out of the fog and pay attention to Him and to His children who are hurting. What is hard is to be willing to give up my "things" and go where He wants me to go. What is hard is allowing Him to give me a heart for the world, for the hurting, the homeless and the needy.
My prayer, my hope, my deepest longing is that I have the courage to follow the hard road ... to jump in and trust God to show me the next step ... to have the faith to know that He knows where the journey will lead and the road ahead ... to know that is all I need to know.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Seize the Day
It's hard to believe that another year has come and gone, and a new year is beginning. I believe there is great truth that as I age, time seems to pass more quickly. Perhaps more important, however, is that as I age, the minutes and hours and days and months and years become even more precious to me. I am so much more aware of the time that God has given me and the need to use that time wisely and for His glory and honor.
Perhaps because I celebrated my 50th birthday on December 26, I find myself being rather introspective as this new year begins. I awoke this morning thinking of the blessings that my 50 years of life have seen ... three amazing and wonderful young adult children who, in spite of being raised by a single mother, are happy, productive, achieving, intelligent, loving, caring, giving and compassionate people. I have a daughter-in-law who loves my son with every fiber of her being, loves me like a mother, fits in our family like a hand in a glove and is an awesome person in her own right. I have a job that provides for my needs, a growing speaking ministry, friends who are loyal, honest and true, an incredible church family, and health that is improving with each passing day.
So, as this new year rolls in, I recognize that I haven't a clue as to what it may bring. I also recognize that though I don't know what the future holds, I do know Who holds my future. It is that knowledge that keeps me, that envelops me, that surrounds me ... it is that knowledge that makes me know that all things, whatever they may be, work together for good for those who love and serve God.
My resolutions this new year? To love God with all my heart and soul and mind, to be the servant that He calls me to be, to honor and love the people on the journey with me, and to make the most of every single moment that I am given.
Happy New Year, and remember to seize the day with gusto!
Perhaps because I celebrated my 50th birthday on December 26, I find myself being rather introspective as this new year begins. I awoke this morning thinking of the blessings that my 50 years of life have seen ... three amazing and wonderful young adult children who, in spite of being raised by a single mother, are happy, productive, achieving, intelligent, loving, caring, giving and compassionate people. I have a daughter-in-law who loves my son with every fiber of her being, loves me like a mother, fits in our family like a hand in a glove and is an awesome person in her own right. I have a job that provides for my needs, a growing speaking ministry, friends who are loyal, honest and true, an incredible church family, and health that is improving with each passing day.
So, as this new year rolls in, I recognize that I haven't a clue as to what it may bring. I also recognize that though I don't know what the future holds, I do know Who holds my future. It is that knowledge that keeps me, that envelops me, that surrounds me ... it is that knowledge that makes me know that all things, whatever they may be, work together for good for those who love and serve God.
My resolutions this new year? To love God with all my heart and soul and mind, to be the servant that He calls me to be, to honor and love the people on the journey with me, and to make the most of every single moment that I am given.
Happy New Year, and remember to seize the day with gusto!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
J.R. the Lifesaver
If you're a follower of my blog, you know that in early August, I adopted a 3-year-old dachshund named J.R. It's now November, and he is definitely a member of the family. And, he, quite simply, adores me. Almost as much as he adores his older Labrador sister, Julie.
As I've previously mentioned, J.R. sort of stole my heart away with his sad eyes and lonely soul. Little did I know when I opened my heart to that long little wiener dog, that he would be the means that God used to change my life in a major way.
When J.R. came to me, he had a severe problem with his back, and the vet said that part of his recovery would need to be walking every day and losing some of the extra weight that he was carrying. Once his back began to heal, J.R. and I began a daily routine of walking each evening when I got home from work. After about two months of walking, I was having severe pain in my left leg which eventually became so severe that I finally gave in and went to see my doctor. After several rounds of tests, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To say that my life has drastically changed would be a grand understatement ... medication, new diet, lots of exercise and checking my blood sugar three times each day.
The day that I met with my doctor and she told me the diagnosis, she ended our conversation with these words: "I know that you said that you rescued J.R. and saved him from death. I want you to know that he actually saved your life. You are lucky that you didn't go to sleep one night, slip into a coma and not wake up the next morning. That little dog saved you, Terrie, he saved your life."
God works in such mysterious ways in our lives, and He chose to use a fat little dog to work in mine. I believe that J.R. was meant to be with me, and I believed that from the moment he came into my home. As is so often the case, I had no idea just how big God's plan was ... no idea at all.
So, remember, God can take all things, both big and small, and work them for good in the lives of those who love Him. J.R. has taught me many things over the last four months, not the least of which is a new appreciation for the life God has given me.
As I've previously mentioned, J.R. sort of stole my heart away with his sad eyes and lonely soul. Little did I know when I opened my heart to that long little wiener dog, that he would be the means that God used to change my life in a major way.
When J.R. came to me, he had a severe problem with his back, and the vet said that part of his recovery would need to be walking every day and losing some of the extra weight that he was carrying. Once his back began to heal, J.R. and I began a daily routine of walking each evening when I got home from work. After about two months of walking, I was having severe pain in my left leg which eventually became so severe that I finally gave in and went to see my doctor. After several rounds of tests, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To say that my life has drastically changed would be a grand understatement ... medication, new diet, lots of exercise and checking my blood sugar three times each day.
The day that I met with my doctor and she told me the diagnosis, she ended our conversation with these words: "I know that you said that you rescued J.R. and saved him from death. I want you to know that he actually saved your life. You are lucky that you didn't go to sleep one night, slip into a coma and not wake up the next morning. That little dog saved you, Terrie, he saved your life."
God works in such mysterious ways in our lives, and He chose to use a fat little dog to work in mine. I believe that J.R. was meant to be with me, and I believed that from the moment he came into my home. As is so often the case, I had no idea just how big God's plan was ... no idea at all.
So, remember, God can take all things, both big and small, and work them for good in the lives of those who love Him. J.R. has taught me many things over the last four months, not the least of which is a new appreciation for the life God has given me.
Back in Time
A couple of Sundays ago, while visiting my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, I attended the church I grew up in for the first time in over 30 years. As I pulled into the parking lot, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, and as I waited for an old friend to arrive, my mind drifted back to my childhood and teen years. So much of my life at that time revolved around this little Southern Baptist church and the people and personalities that came and went through the years.
Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.
I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.
Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.
I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.
Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.
I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.
Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.
I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sweet Sisters
Over the last couple of months, I have had the great honor to speak for several different groups of ladies at various events. While I always pray that God will provide me with the words He would have me share that will meet the needs of the women present, I quite often come away from these gatherings feeling as though I am the one who receives the greatest blessing.
The way God works in the hearts and lives of those who love and serve Him never ceases to amaze me. Women often feel a strong connection with the guest speaker at a retreat or conference, and as such, I have heard a multitude of stories from the women God has called me to minister to ... stories of salvation, of joy, of pain, of sorrow. So many lives that have been touched by the Master's hand; so many lives that are in desperate need of His healing power.
All of those women, each and every one of them, have left a mark on me ... whether it be sharing laughter or tears ... they have all had an impact on me. Gals who are now a part of me, a part of my heart, a part of my soul ... Kathy, Vicki, Charlene, Elaine, Angi, Karen, Doris, Kari, Susan, Stephanie, Pat, Cindy, Becky ... and so many more true blessings in my life.
The older I become, the more I find myself contemplating what heaven will be like one day. I like to believe that will recognize on some level those who meant so much to us during our time on earth. If that turns out to be the case, I can't wait for the reunion that will happen one day with all my sweet sisters in the Lord!
The way God works in the hearts and lives of those who love and serve Him never ceases to amaze me. Women often feel a strong connection with the guest speaker at a retreat or conference, and as such, I have heard a multitude of stories from the women God has called me to minister to ... stories of salvation, of joy, of pain, of sorrow. So many lives that have been touched by the Master's hand; so many lives that are in desperate need of His healing power.
All of those women, each and every one of them, have left a mark on me ... whether it be sharing laughter or tears ... they have all had an impact on me. Gals who are now a part of me, a part of my heart, a part of my soul ... Kathy, Vicki, Charlene, Elaine, Angi, Karen, Doris, Kari, Susan, Stephanie, Pat, Cindy, Becky ... and so many more true blessings in my life.
The older I become, the more I find myself contemplating what heaven will be like one day. I like to believe that will recognize on some level those who meant so much to us during our time on earth. If that turns out to be the case, I can't wait for the reunion that will happen one day with all my sweet sisters in the Lord!
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