On the Hook

Sudden death.

He didn't linger for weeks or months or years with an illness that fated him to die.  His family and friends didn't have time to say their goodbyes, give him one last hug or kiss.   One last "I love you".

He was just gone.

I got the phone call.   My good friend since high school had passed away suddenly.   The guy that was part of my life and my family's life.  He came in and out of our lives intermittently.   He was never one that you could depend on to show up on time or even show up at all.   He popped in occasionally, shared a tale or two, reminisced about the old days, belly laughed a bit.   Then he would be gone again and we might not see him for a year or two.   But we loved each other and he was part of our family.   A part of our hearts.  Always welcome.

Who would think he would be gone so fast?   Like a frightened gasp of breath, or the blink of an eye.  It's still so difficult to get my mind around it.   My friend is gone.   In my mind, I see him sitting in my living room and us catching each other up on things.   Sharing our lives once again.   But....he'll never knock on my door again. Never call unexpectedly just to talk.    I'll never hear his voice or his laugh again.

He left me with a hurting heart and sorrowful spirit.  

After I heard the terrible news, I tried to recall if we had ever talked about Jesus.   I could not remember.   I remembered snippets of conversations when he mentioned "the man upstairs" or 'the big guy".   But I didn't know for sure if he had ever asked Jesus to be his savior. 

How could I not know that?

I couldn't get the thought out of my mind.   Over and over again, I berated myself for never talking with him openly about the matter.   Then I began to pray  and ask the Lord to somehow please let me know if my friend was in heaven with Him.

They  held a memorial service for him and although I wanted to be there, I didn't go for various reasons.

My daughter was able to attend the services and called me afterwards to tell me about it.   She said that several people shared memories, but that two people stood up and shared about the time that our friend had asked Jesus into his life.   

Praise God!   There were two witnesses!   Relief flooded over me and I began to thank God for answering my request for this priceless news!    My friend is with the Lord and one day I will see him again and we will worship together.    Now my heart and soul are at peace about him.

But now I am on the hook.   I didn't share Jesus with him?   Thank God that someone else did.   But not me?

Why not?

There is no excuse.

It is our  mission... our purpose... our responsibility as Christians to share Jesus with others, especially those close to us.   

The death of my loved friend brought this home to me so sharply and personally.      He was here one moment and then gone.  

How can I not reach out and share Jesus with others?   No one knows when their life will end.   You never know when it will be the last time  you hug that friend or family member.     Death is certain yet unexpected.   It is sudden.   I know this.   WE know this.   We all have or will at some time experience the loss of a loved one. 

Yes.   I am on the hook now.   I never want to wonder about someone again.  I don't want to have that kind of regret.   I want to KNOW that I shared Jesus with them.     I want them to know Him.

It is urgent.   It is imperative.   It is my purpose, my mission, my responsibility.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son; that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. He who believes in Him is not judged; he who does not believe has been judged already because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.     (John 3: 16-18)

Bugs Me

I was out walking the other day and a little green bug kept buzzing by me... flying up around my head and buzzing... buzzing... buzzing..   I kept swatting it away and it finally flew off. 

A few minutes later it was back again.. this time taking a different tack.   It just kept buzzing in front of me and I swatted at it again.

Poor little bug... it was just buzzing.    But I was walking and I didn't want to be bothered by a bug.

Funny how God can use something so inconsequential to get our attention.    This little buzzy bug made me wonder how many times I have swatted away when the Holy Spirit was rising up inside me... bugging me about something, reminding me of something, trying to empower me to do something. 

How many times have I written Him off as unimportant or inconvenient?   How many times have I ignored His promptings because I was just walking through life focused on something else?

That really bugs me.

LORD, please keep me aware of Your presence.  Holy Spirit, please keep speaking to my spirit. Help me to always hear and respond rightly.   In Jesus Name, Amen.

A Fairy Princess Story

Two years old.   What an amazing age.   Innocence.  Trust.   Imagination. 

My youngest grandbaby is Sydnie.   The entire world revolves around her... as it should.  

She is a princess.   I mean really.   A princess.

I had the most wonderful pleasure of spending a few hours one on one with her recently.     Mommy had shopping to do and Sydnie has to be picked up from her "mother's day out".     

When Sydnie saw me, her face broke into a huge grin.  She yelled "Grandmama!" and ran to me with arms open wide for a big hug!   Those are the best!   It makes my heart smile just thinking of it.

We gathered up her lunch bag and backpack with all of her priceless possessions  in them and headed out the door.  

Immediately upon being seated in her car seat, she asked for her wipstick.    So we dug through her bag and found her little tube of wipstick.   Wipstick is a necessary item for Sydnie.    She goes no where without having first made sure that she has her wipstick in place.    She opens that little tube and rubs it on her lips a thousand times a day just to make sure that she is pretty all the time.

We stopped to get something to drink and within minutes the drink was spilled all over the backseat of my truck along with the bag of goldfish crackers that she opened upside down.   Smile.

"It's okay Sydnie... Grandmama will clean it up."

She managed to salvage a few of the goldfish from the  seat and then wanted strawberries.   Once again, I browsed through her lunch bag and sure enough I found a baggie full of sliced strawberries!   I gave her the bag and she managed to eat everyone of them without dropping or spilling.   But her little face was covered in strawberry juice!

This was all within about 5 minutes of leaving the church.

Finally home!   It begins.   "Where's my wipstick?    Grandmama, I need my wipstick."   Well, the wipstick was no where to be found.   I searched my truck.   I searched her bags.  I searched my purse.   We looked all over the house wherever Sydnie had been since we got home.   Couldn't find it anywhere.   She asked and asked for it continually.  

Eventually distracted from the wipstick, she decided it was time to play dress up.   After pulling out several outfits, she changed two or three times and finally decided on  a  shimmering fairy costume with wings accessorized by her little pink high heel slippers.

About that time, I discovered that her Gaggie was missing.  My heart skipped a beat!  Her Gaggie is all important to Sydnie.   She goes no where without Gaggie.    Gaggie is her treasured and bedraggled baby blanket.   

She has not thought about Gaggie.    Yet.

Not wanting to alarm her and cause my  little fairy princess granddaughter any distress, I loaded her back up into the car seat in my truck, and headed back to the church hoping and praying that someone was there so that we could rescue Gaggie and return it to Sydnie before she ever knew it was missing.      There would be no peace in the house if Gaggie was not found.   I was in a state of panic just thinking about it!

We arrived at the church lickety split!    I unbuckled the fairy princess from the car seat, helped her out of the truck and started up the steps into the church building. 

She automatically reached for my hand as we started up the steps.    She had on her pretty little pink heels and took tiny little steps in the most graceful way as she held my hand and almost floated up those steps, with her fairy princess wings fluttering behind.


In the meantime, while she is floating in slow motion, I am trying to contain my anxiety and whispering frantic prayers that the building has not been locked up for the day.    Woe is me if Sydnie has to spend a night without Gaggie!   Woe is me if this Grandmama gets arrested for breaking into the church building in a well meaning attempt to reclaim Gaggie.   Surely the judge would understand my plight.  After all, the emotional well-being of a princess is at stake!

Thank goodness!   The church doors were open!  I am spared handcuffs and a sleepless night.   Though I could not see or hear anyone, like a trespasser  with my fairy princess in tow, I headed down the hallway to her classroom.   We opened the door and there lay Gaggie!   

I breathed a long sigh of relief, accompanied by a heart felt "Thank You Jesus!"

The fairy princess nonchalantly picks up her treasured friend and gracefully flutters out the door.

Back at home.   Fairy Princess and Gaggie in place.    Grandmama exhausted in a heap!

 Then it begins.   "Grandmama?"

"Yes, Sydnie?"

"Where's my wipstick?"        Smile.

Can you  imagine possessing the innocence and trust and imagination of a small child?    To know that when you reach out,  someone with loving hands will  take your hand and help you walk the hard places.   To have no worries because someone is looking out for you  and providing for you even when you don't  know  you need it.   To trust someone so completely that you allow them to lift you up and carry you.      To float along without a care because you are loved.   To know you are loved even when you make a mess of things.

God wants us to live in His kingdom with that childlike attitude.

Jesus said   "Let the little children come to Me and do not forbid them; for of such is the Kingdom of God.   Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it."    Then he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them.   (Mark 10: 14-16)

Tattered Patches

When I was a much younger woman, my Mamaw (that's southern for Grandmother, in case you are not from around here)   anyway... Mamaw decided to make quilts for her grandchildren.

She asked each of us what type of quilt we would like.    I thought about it for a while.   She had made  'dutch doll' quilts and "wedding ring" quilts and all kinds of beautiful quilts in her lifetime.    I had a 'dutch doll' quilt when I was a small child and I loved it.   I could have asked for any design.

But, I decided I wanted a simple patchwork quilt.   No specific design.   No fancy stitchwork.    Just a plain jane patchwork quilt.

She was a bit surprised, but said "okay".    

I gathered up fabric that was left over from dresses and outfits that my mother had sewn for my sisters and myself.   I had even more fabric from my grandmother's left overs.     I cut them all into 4 inch squares and delivered them to her.    All of the squares were from double knit fabric.   If you don't know what double knit is, you obviously are much younger than me.   I am NOT going to reveal the top secret information that is my current age.  You figure it out.     If you do remember double knit, then you already know that this stuff is indestructible.  

Mamaw and my mother and my aunts worked on these quilts for every one.    They worked on my quilt.  The squares were stitched together.   My patchwork quilt was created for me with love.

I absolutely loved my new quilt!   Not only because it was beautiful to me, but because it came from my Mamaw's own hands along with those of my Mom and Aunts.   Also, each patch reminded me of a dress that one of us had worn and I could even remember some of  the occasions on which they were worn.   


It was a gift.  One I specifically asked for.

Over the years, my patchwork quilt got a work out.   It was used all the time.   Cover up on the couch, spread on the bed, picnic blanket, football games, you name it.   It was my 'go to' quilt for all occasions.      My Mamaw is in Heaven with Jesus now, but she is remembered with much love; especially every time I wrapped up in my quilt.

Washed and dried over and over and over, my wonderful quilt eventually began to wear.   The patches didn't rot or grow thin like most fabric would.   Remember... it's double knit?    But the stitches began to loosen and the fabric backing on the quilt grew thin and worn.

Eventually my lovely quilt was in tatters.  It had come apart at the seams and patches were hanging by old and worn threads.

Sadly, I folded it for the last time and put it in my linen closet to be used no more.

That was several years ago.

Last year (2011), my Mom and I were talking about the coming Christmas.   It was only January, but I was going to be gone out of the country for a while and we were discussing whether or not I would be home for Christmas.    She asked me what I would like for Christmas that year.  

For some reason, my quilt came to mind.    I showed her the tattered rags of the quilt and asked her if she thought it could be repaired?    She said she would try and I told her that all I wanted for Christmas was for my quilt to be repaired and restored.    So she took it home with her.

Over the next few months, I totally forgot about that conversation and Christmas wish.

But while I was gone, my Mother and her wonderful sisters went to work.    They put my quilt back together and found yet another piece of double knit fabric that was large enough to become the new backing for it.

At Christmas that year, after all the presents were unwrapped and all the oooohhhsss and aaaahhhhhs over gifts were done... After all the torn gift wrap and bows were bagged up and the house became a little more quiet, Mom said.. "hold on a minute.   I have one more thing here."  And she brought out a gift bag and gave it to me.  

I was puzzled.   Why was there a special gift for me?  My Christmas request earlier that year was completely forgotten.  (That's one perk of getting older, I guess.  If you want to call it a perk.)

In that Christmas gift bag, all wrapped in colorful tissue paper, lay my quilt.    My wonderful and amazing patch work quilt made from my Mamaw's loving hands and my Mom's and Aunts' also!

I was blown away!    Tears came to my eyes as I examined my restored and remade quilt!   It was so beautiful and so absolutely incredible to me that it was made like new and useable again.    I wrapped up in it immediately and stayed wrapped up in it for the remainder of the day!

Once again, my patchwork quilt is used almost daily.    Snuggled up on the couch, thrown on the bed, as a pallet in the floor for the grandkids. 

It is so amazing to me that something that was once so useful and treasured could be restored and made useful and beautiful again.

Having my quilt back in tip top condition  made me think of how sometimes, as Christians, we feel like we have been used up.  Life has thrown us some curves.   Death.. divorce... financial problems... whatever.   All our resources and energy and 'want to' seem to have vanished into thin air and we feel like we are put on a shelf.  Unuseable.

But just like my quilt was restored and made new, God has a way for us to be restored and made new in Him.    He wraps Himself around us and comforts us and  stitches back the broken places and mends our torn and tattered hearts and spirits.   He patches us up and makes us new and beautiful and useable once again.  

Thank you Mom for restoring my beautiful patchwork quilt.   I will treasure it forever.

Thank You LORD for saving me and restoring my heart and my life. 



 

Jail Break!

 
A friend posted on the mesmerizing and hypnotizing scandal that is Facebook that when God asks us to do something outside our 'comfort zone' we say 'NO!'  even though we have prayed and asked  Him to increase our faith.

That started me thinking about comfort zones.    One definition of comfort is:  "a state of ease and satisfaction of bodily wants with freedom from pain and anxiety."

A definition of zone is:  "to divide into areas subject to special restriction."  (This definition is of the word zone used as a verb.)

So!   Given these definitions of two seemingly disparate words, I come up with this observation:   We have zoned ourselves into a state of ease and satisfaction with freedom from pain or anxiety.

We are zoned out.

We are restricted.

In other words, we are in a  prison of our own making.   

It's a cushy prison with all we could ever want or need in the way of fluffy mattresses to sleep on and overstuffed cushions to sit on, all the high tech electronics we could ever imagine, a well stocked pantry to supply even the tiniest twinge of hunger and our own hand picked set of friends and family.  Oh!  and don't forget our very own reserved seating at our church of choice.   Dontcha just love this place?!   Wow!   Every person's dream!   Thank You Jesus!

Although it is everything described above, it is nevertheless still a prison.   A self imposed prison.   In God's eyes, it holds us securely just as well as the prison cell in the photo above.  Bazinga!  The joke's on us. 

God did not call us to live in a comfort zone.   He did not call us to be in a restricted area away from the world.    In fact, some of His very last words to us were:

"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." (Acts 1:8)

I don't know about you, but that does not sound like instructions to sit in my plush prison cell.   It sounds more like a Commandment from the  One that gives me life.

He says "You have the power I have given to you.   You have the key to the prison door.  You have the testimony of what I have done for you.  Now go and tell others.   Go and be the instrument I use to reach the world so that people will be saved."  

This is not "show and tell".   He didn't say from the comfort of your living room, "I want you to invite others over and show them what a wonderful prison you have made for yourself."    He didn't say "I want you to go to church and sit and listen to your preacher on Sundays and then go lock yourself back into prison so that you will be safe from the world." 

He told us to "get out there, get our hands and feet dirty in the leper colonies  and in the modern up to date offices, the construction sites, the grocery stores, the hair salons, the mechanic shops, the schools, the prison cells, the hospitals, the nursing homes and retirement centers, the restaurants, the malls, the homeless shelters, foreign countries, foreign cultures and the highways and byways of the world.   Go places where others will not go.  Go places where people show up every day."


No, this is not 'show and tell'.    It is "GO AND TELL!" 


I think I am preaching to myself and to the choir.    I hope they are listening and ready to break out of jail!

Beach Life

 
He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep.   (John 21:17)   

I love this particular scripture. I can just picture in my mind Jesus on the sandy beach preparing a breakfast of fish for the disciples... and Peter jumping into the water when he recognizes His master, anxious to be near Him again. Excited... breathing hard... his heart racing... hair and clothes wet and dripping as he falls at the Lord's feet.  

Can you see Jesus on the shore? Feet in the warm sand... wind blowing His hair and robe... eyes squinting in the sun. His hands reaching toward Peter to greet him and lift him up.  All of creation feeling His touch where His feet meet the ground and His breath mingles with our air? It seems that the very sand beneath His feet would leap up to support Him and the blades of grass would lean towards Him as toward the sunlight, anticipating His next movement.  

It intrigues me that Jesus was preparing a meal for them... breakfast. They had not seen Him since the resurrection and had gone back to fishing. Spiritually they were defeated and on a forced spiritual fast without their Master. He was inviting them to break their fast and come fellowship with Him again.  Peter is broken and brokenhearted because Jesus keeps asking him, "do you love me?" and he says "Lord! You know all things! You know I love you!"  

Still hurting because of his trio of betrayals and ashamed of his own 'speak first, think later' personality. He had learned one thing, if nothing else. He had learned that he could never betray his master by denying Him again. The penalty of separation from Him was too hard. The self condemnation too much to bear.

Peter was transformed by Jesus' love and forgiveness.  Jesus commanded him to "feed my sheep"    He used the  Greek word 'boskos' for feed which means "the duty of a Christian teacher to promote in every way the spiritual welfare of the members of the church."     The duty.   Work.  Responsibility.  This is your job Peter. 

Peter was given his life's mission and a vision of his future.   He could have backed out of it and rejected the life Jesus was planning for him.   But he had already experienced the emptiness and pain of what it is like to reject Christ.  Never again.   Not Peter. 

Just as we all are changed by Jesus,  I believe on that day that Peter was truly made whole in Christ.

Jesus is present with us spiritually as He was physically with His friends on the beach.  He meets with us at some "beach point" in our lives and asks each of His children the same question He put to Peter... "Do you love me?" and with our 'yes' answer,  He fills us with His purpose and vision for our lives and then give us the ability to carry it out. 

Can we betray or reject Him? Yes. But the penalty is a life of unfulfilled dreams and a lack of vision.  The penalty is spiritual emptiness and a longing for what might have been.   By our obedience to His plan we are fulfilled and He is glorified.  

Say Yes and begin your life on a beach with Jesus.
 

Ur of Chaldees

(Written Easter of 2009, Tallil AFB, Cob Adder, Iraq)

I really am having a difficult time expressing myself about this. So I will just explain the only way I know how.


I am living on Tallil Air Force Base, Iraq. It's Easter Sunday and we had a sunrise service.


The service was held at the archaeological digs where they have excavated the home of Abraham in Ur of the Chaldees.


To tell you the truth, I was skeptical at first about the authenticity of the claim that it is actually the home of Abraham.


When I had visited the site a couple of weeks ago, I questioned our tour guide about the validity of that claim. He reassured me that tablets and other artifacts had been found to verify their findings. When I got back to my room I was reading in Genesis about Abraham, and there in my Bible's study notes were remarks about this very site and the archaeologists who discovered it in the 1930's.


Anyway, when the chaplain posted the schedule for this holy week of Easter, a sunrise service was planned at Abraham's home. About half of our shop signed up to go including me.


In a few weeks, the U.S. government is going to hand this piece of property back to the Iraqi government. The opportunity to tour the site will be gone. (at least for the time being) Possibly the opportunity to worship the LORD at this site will not occur again this side of Jesus' return.


I don't have the words to express how honored and humble I feel that out of all the people in the world and out of all the people in time, I was able to participate in what could be a once in a lifetime (once in history) event.


I know I haven't done anything to deserve such a thing. But I am so grateful that God included me.


There were maybe 200 people attending. A praise team was playing acoustic guitars and leading us in worship and then one of the chaplains stepped up to a podium and opened his Bible and read Holy Scripture there on those grounds. We sang more songs which are listed in the program and I could not keep from crying as I sang along with the others praising God. And then I thought that you could possibly be praising with some of these same songs in your service today and how all of us are joined in praise.


Then one of the chaplains stood on the reconstructed wall of Abraham's home and presented the Word of God. He took us from Adam and  Eve to Noah to Abraham all the way down to Jesus. He explained the covenant God made with Abraham and how we are a part of that covenant. And He shared about the resurrection of Jesus.


The chaplain asked us to respond to him when he proclaimed "He is risen!" and the congregation would respond "HE IS RISEN INDEED!" It became the theme for his message.


All day long the Holy Spirit has been pounding inside of me so strongly. I can't explain how filled I am right now. What words could I use?


I just wanted to share this with you and with my church family. I love you and miss you all so much and I know that you pray for me. I can feel the prayer covering me at times. Thank you so much. Please continue to be in prayer for me and my family while I'm here.


In Christ alone,


Kathy


I sent the above message through Kelly to my church... there was no way I could share everything, but I had to put it down in words as best I could.


When I got back to the shop after the service, I was talking with one of the young women that works there for another company. She was asking questions about the Christian faith. I had given her a tract and she was curious. She is not quite sure what she believes, but she thinks that believing in God is a cop out in some ways.


Anyway, I had the opportunity to share with her that the Christian faith is not about religion, but about a relationship with God.


I stood on a spiritual mountain today and God touched my heart. I haven't felt this in so long. I am glad I could feel His touch again.


He is the healer of broken hearts.