Choices Change your Direction

Choices

A friend’s son is in the military. He recently came home, after basic training, and found a “Dear John” letter. His wife took their infant son, and moved across the country. She said she didn’t love him anymore. My friend and his wife are devastated. They are afraid they’ll never have a relationship with their grandchild. In frustration, James told me, “I told him that they were too young to get married. They needed to wait, and I was right.” I asked how old they were when they married, and he said they were in their late twenties.

Having been married for forty-four years, I realize that many things have changed, but I was twenty-one and my husband was twenty-two on our wedding day. Not only that, our son and his wife were the same ages we were when they married fifteen years ago. So, I can’t help but think that age really isn’t the important issue. So, what is?

After reflection, I think it all comes down to our choices. Fortunately, I was taught, at a young age, that God is concerned about all of our choices. I realized the need to pray about the important decisions of life. I also came to see that each choice led to another. There is a snowball effect, so I need God’s wisdom.

I dated some in high school, but it was just fun. When I started college, I took it more seriously. I thought about how many people I knew who met their spouse at this point in life. So, as a freshman, I made a commitment to the Lord. I would not date anyone who was not a committed Christian. I realized that anyone I dated was a potential spouse. I didn’t need to take the chance of becoming emotionally invested in someone who did not share my love for Christ.

That choice eventually led me to Jack. He was not only a strong believer, but he had accepted the call to the ministry. Our dating relationship was one of growing, both together and in the Lord. We prayed about our relationship. We were people of commitment. So when Jack proposed, I already knew with assurance that he was God’s choice for me. I knew we could expect ups and downs in our relationship, but dependence on God would get us through the tough times. And…it has.

Perhaps maturity, rather than age, was a factor in the dissolution of my friend’s son’s marriage. But maybe committed choices had something to do with it, too. Life is just a series of choices. We all make some that are good and some that are not so good. But, if we take the time to turn to a loving, all-wise God before making vital decisions, we just might find that we will make more good choices than bad.

Your Creative Spirit...In His Likeness

Creativity 

As I was taking a prayer walk today, it struck me that all of our “creativity” is merely tapping into the Creator himself. We are emulating Him.

He is the God of color. We see it in the ever changing sky, the red and gold leaves that were once a soft green. We see it in the myriad of bird, insect, and snake species. We are even encouraged to daily eat food of every color. We have different hair and skin tones.

God is the creator of sounds. We hear his handy-work in the melody of a brook flowing over the rocks or the powerful sound of crashing ocean waves. It’s evident in the sounds of animals…the roar of a lion or the mew of a house cat, a gentle tapping of rain or a great clap of thunder. And, if you listen closely, you can almost hear the soft fall of snow on a winter’s morning.

God knew that His children would want to experience the world through touch. So, He created textures to enrich the beauty around us. The rough feel of bark is in great contrast to the velvet texture of an iris in spring. A newborn baby’s skin is different than Grandpa’s. The grittiness of sand leaves one with a totally different sensation than the soft luxury found in forest moss.

He is the God of structure. Look at the rolling hills of the Smoky Mountains as opposed to the crags of the Rockies. The majesty of the Grand Canyon is an amazing piece of sculpture, and you can’t ignore the shape and design of a volcano.

We spend our lives trying to mimic the creative stroke of God. The visual artist tries to mix oils or pastels in an attempt to copy the beauty of a sunset. The musician takes the sounds that have touched his life and works to create similar beauty through instrumentation. The sculptor or architect looks at the shapes and textures of nature and hopes to find satisfaction in his own aped formation.

But, we are God’s supreme creation. Loving us as only He can, He created us in His own image. As such, He gifted us with the ability to both appreciate and emulate His works. He planted within each of us a joy and responsiveness to beauty. We find ourselves one with Him as we exercise these gifts. It is beauty that could come from no other source.  

You are a created and creative being. As you consider your own creative bent, thank God for this gift. This is your spiritual genetic inheritance. This is a touch of the Father in you. Create and Celebrate!

Who's Angry in Your Life?

Dealing with Anger

I was in a hurry that Wednesday night at church. I was to direct a planning meeting of youth workers, but the pastor had asked that we take a minimal amount of time that evening. We had a church-wide discussion that was to take place afterward. Per his instructions, I led the group in prayer then dived right into the evening's agenda. We were able to finish in the allotted time to join the church discussion.

When adjourned, I went down the hall towards the exit to go home. The hallway was crowded with friends talking about a myriad of things. I was enjoying the talk around me when Paula, one of our youth workers, started shouting at me. She was red in the face, obviously very angry. She was talking so fast that I wasn’t understanding all that she said, but she was certainly gaining the attention of the crowd.

I said, “Paula I’m not sure what’s wrong, but let’s go sit somewhere privately, so that I can focus on what you’re saying.” I discovered that Paula was upset about the meeting. I jumped into prayer, giving no time for requests or even a little small talk. At first, I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. The problem was, Paula felt overlooked. It wasn’t intentional. I was merely trying to honor the pastor’s request for time, but she saw it as a personal slight. I apologized, but she wasn’t satisfied. She said many hurtful things. Venom was spewing from her mouth. I asked the Lord for help while fighting back tears. He reminded me, “A soft answer turns away wrath.” So, I was able to respond to her screams with a soft controlled tone.

When I went home, the tears burst forth. I told my husband, Jack, what happened. We talked and prayed for Paula. The next morning, she called. She was still angry. Some church members had called her. She accused me, or perhaps Jack, of calling the deacons to chastise her. I said, “Paula, we haven’t talked with anyone. Remember, until we sought a separate room, we were in the midst of a crowd of church members when you approached me. The calls were in response to what they heard from you, not a phone call from me. Paula, Jack and I love you. We’re sorry about all of this, and the only one we’ve gone to is the Lord. I came straight home, and we prayed for you.” She hung up without saying anything else.

At the end of the service, on the following Sunday morning, Paula came forth and asked for a moment to speak to the congregation. She said, “This week many of you witnessed my anger, directed at our pastor’s wife. I want you to know what kind of leaders we have in our church.” At this point I was holding my breath. I didn’t know what was coming. She continued, “My hot temper was unleashed on Wanda. She never raised her voice. She listened to me. The next morning I called her and ranted some more, making unfounded accusations. She responded with patience and kindness. Instead of yelling back at me, she and Jack prayed for me. I’m here to publicly apologize, but I’m also here to say that we are a fortunate church to have such a loving pastor and wife.”

Once again, I went home in tears. I cried out in praise. I had not refrained from anger on my own. God, and His word, guided me. In turn, He spoke to Paula, giving her the courage to humbly come before the church. The Lord looked into each of our hearts, and “He supplied all our need according to His glorious riches, in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19

Spiritual DNA

I was in a room full of creative women. I was part of an event focused on media. The ladies were authors, speakers, visual artists, singers, song writers, television hosts, and more. I was in awe at the talent present in the room. But, as we sat around the dinner table and talked, some began to open up. Maybe they were freed by the fact that they were surrounded by professional peers. I was struck by the insecurities that were shared. These beautiful women, that generally appeared so confident, took off their masks for a moment, revealing their self-doubt.

Most of us, mere mortals, tend to believe the illusion. We see the outer picture and envy that person who commands attention just by walking into a room. As I listened at the table, though, I realized that some were confused by the attention. They didn’t understand their affect on others. They didn’t fully see the value of their gift. These gifted women didn’t know why others were awed by them, and they wondered how long it would be before the accolades would disappear. 

Perhaps we need to understand that whether there is recognition for what we do, or not, is unimportant. Any talent that we have is a gift from God. When praise comes our way, we need to use it as a way to share the generosity of our creative Father who created us in His image. Our talents are a result of our God-likeness. It’s our spiritual DNA. When this sinks in, there will be no confusion; we will appreciate our value as a child of God. And we won’t worry about accolades, because we don’t deserve them. We are just the vessel.  And, it’s a privilege!

What is Your Most Valuable Lesson from Childhood?

I’m assuming that we all have memories of repeated sayings of our mothers. Some of them are probably common to most of our experiences. You may have heard, “Pretty is as pretty does” or “You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar”. My mother was fond of saying, “If wishes were horses, we’d all take a ride.” She also quoted Romans 8:28 frequently, “For all things work together for good to those who are the called according to His purposes.”

Mom lived what she preached. She always exhibited a positive attitude, and she could find humor in her darkest hours. One of her well-used sayings was, “Nobody wants to be invited to a pity party." Then, ..."If you insist on having one, go up to your room, and when it’s over you can join the rest of us for some fun.”  If I came home from school, feeling sorry for myself for some reason, she would listen for a few minutes. Then the “pity party” speech came.

When Mom was homebound from lung cancer, she was constantly receiving calls from friends. I was present during a few of those calls. I only heard her side of the conversation, but that was enough. The callers always asked how she was doing, and I heard her say, “It’s lung cancer, and I only have one lung. We know what that means, and it’s not interesting. I want to hear about…

·       ... Tommy’s soccer game Saturday.

·        ...Sara’s decision; is she going to the University of Michigan or Ohio State?”

·        ...your yard sale last week” or…

·        ...did you and Jim enjoy your first ballroom dancing class?”

She didn’t talk about her illness and prognosis of death. She wanted to hear about life. She was interested in others. The calls were always filled with laughter.

Women, from her office, came to enjoy lunch with her each week. They would stop at a fast food restaurant and bring food. They sat around the table sharing tales and laughter. There was never any sad talk, no talk of illness, hospitals, or death, because Mom wouldn’t allow it. She knew that nobody enjoyed a pity party. Because all of the women from the office enjoyed these luncheons, they established a rotation system. Mom was missed at work, because she was one who brought joy into the workplace.

When Mom died, hundreds came to the funeral home. It was filled with a mixture of tears and laughter. One young woman said, “Your mom was the coolest woman I ever knew.” Mom would have loved that. One came to ask a favor. She said, “Your mom always wore silly jewelry to celebrate the holidays. The girls at the office wondered if they could each have a piece as a remembrance of the fun she brought just walking into a room.” Her boss came and said, “Your mom is the one who encouraged me to go back to college, so that I could be the boss.” Mom had written her a poem on the day of her graduation, and it was her most prized possession. The poem was framed, along with her diploma and a photo of the two of them together, in a prominent spot in her home.

A few weeks after the funeral, someone said to me, “I’ve never seen anyone walk through grief the way you have. You were so close to your mom; I don’t understand.” I smiled as I thought of mom. I shed my tears, but I didn’t allow myself to have a pity party. You see, Mom always told me to focus on my blessings, especially in the midst of turmoil. Mother was one of my greatest blessings, and she taught me through repetition and example. So, I couldn’t have an extended pity party. As mother would say, “It’s a solo event. Go up to your room and get over it. Then, come down and join the rest of us for some fun.”

Four Generations

Emergency Room

Around 11:45p.m., my husband and I were awakened by the ring of the phone. A friend, and fellow church member, had just died of a massive heart attack. Twenty-five minutes later, we walked into the Emergency Room of the local hospital.

The room was packed with the members of about three families. The wife, of the deceased, had been sedated. Her blood pressure shot up to a dangerous point, and she was incoherent. As the family grieved for their dad, they were fearful that they could lose their mom, too.

We were there to provide any comfort or help that was needed, but things were frenetic with the doctors coming out to question the family about where they were to send the body and others coming to give updated reports on their mother.

In the midst of all of this, there was a sudden exodus from the room. People were running outside, questioning what was going on. A nurse came through the ER with a police officer. He ran out with his hand on his gun. There was a fight in the parking lot and one of the men was swinging a knife. Within moments, police were everywhere. A nurse came to inform us that if we were not family members of a patient, we should go home. They were about to put the ER on lock-down.

At that moment, it struck me that Emergency Rooms are places where emotions are likely to run high. People are often fearful, confused, and tired. This altercation seemed bazaar to us, but I wondered if it was really unusual for the hospital staff. It seemed that emergencies came in various forms around the ER.

The family we visited was grieving, but they felt no sense of emergency for their father. They knew that he’d had a close walk with the Lord, and he was experiencing pure joy at that point. Perhaps, the only true emergency is when one doesn’t make preparation for his final trip. When the moment of death comes, it is too late to decide. If the destination isn’t considered before that time, there are no options left, and that’s an emergency!

The Face of Confusion

TV Debut

I was excited when I received the call to be interviewed for the TV show, Nashville Alive. They wanted to talk about my new book, Everyday Experiences with God. When I arrived at the studio they asked, “Where’s your book? We want to show it on air.”

I replied, “I have one in the car. Do I have time to get it?” When they said, “Yes, but hurry”, I ran out of the building with one thing in mind. In my haste, I failed to see a step. I hurtled forward on the aggregate pavement. I tore my hose and ripped up the leather on my heels. Other than a few minor scrapes and bruises, I was fine, but rattled. I retrieved my book from the car and hobbled back into the studio just in time for taping. I wasn’t even allowed a moment to check my hair after the tousling.

I knew the questions that were supposed to come. I had jotted down some notes, so that I might glance down at them, if needed. However, the director instructed me to remove my glasses. The bright studio lights had transitioned them into sunglasses. They wanted to see my eyes. That would have been great, but with my addled state of mind, I was really counting on having those notes handy. Now, I wouldn’t be able to see them. Even worse, there was no time for them to give me any instructions. The director started counting down with his fingers, and pointed for us to begin.

And that was the start of my auspicious television debut! So, tune in to channel 44 tomorrow morning, December 28 at 8:30. Together, we will see just how “interesting” an interview can be.