Matthew and Me

First let’s address the elephant in the room.  Just because I did not see his eye, does not mean that Matthew and I don’t have a relationship.  Loss of power and electricity is an inconvenience; but when he messes with good people trying to farm and he rips up 100-year-old trees by the roots, it gets personal.

To his credit, though, he did teach me some lessons.

• There’s no one I’d rather be marooned with without water or power than Steve Horn.  After 46 years, we are completely in sync.  He indulges me and I spoil him.
• We don’t really need a generator.  They put out a lot of noise and candles are romantic (for one night).
• I had forgotten what a pleasure it is to put physical pen to paper.
• If you take down the birds’ feeders during a hurricane wind, they will flock to feed and sing when you hang them up again.  You can even sit right next to the window and they will look in at you with grateful eyes.
• Cosmetics and hair products are fun, but not entirely necessary.  However, let me paint you a picture.  Think the original Batman with Jack Nicholson and the newscasters four days in with no make-up or toiletries.
• Sitting beside an open window at dusk with the birds fluttering and chirping and a cool October breeze can be all you really need.
• Never take the dump for granted.
• I say technology is not that important to me.  I don’t watch much tv.  I check Facebook constantly; but I don’t spend that much extended time on there.  I use my phone mainly to text.  But when I have no technology, I go a little crazy.  It is my security blanket.
• I say I am a hermit and that is pretty much true.  But when I’ve been isolated, I need to be in the middle of people.  Strangers are fine. 

In closing, I’ve decided I do need a generator.  I miss my hair dryer.

Southern Turtles

I’ve come full circle in so many ways since moving back to the South.  Take turtles, for instance.  I grew up in Arkansas where turtles always ambled across the streets and highways.  I had forgotten them until I took a trip home to visit my relatives and my in-laws.  I was following Steve’s folks home from dinner when I lagged behind because I stopped to pick up a turtle and move him across the street.  

 

We didn't see many turtles in northern Virginia.  They’re either very smart or very dead.  One look at a road there will tell them it isn’t safe.  The dangers are obvious and many.  The swamps and woods offer the best protection.  

 

In South Carolina turtles generally approach the edge of the road and see a clear way, though I’m fairly sure they don’t check both directions.  They step out, slowly…always…and begin the long journey to the other side.  

 

Dangers approach without warning on rural Carolina roads.  Cars that are coming are coming fast.  And yet the turtle has rarely calculated his odds before stepping out.  Either I help him across, the next driver swerves or the turtle is airborne.  (I prefer not to address the other scenario.)

 

We often sidestep sin rather easily by avoiding the road with the vehicles flying by.  The signs flash a warning.  To go that way is obviously dangerous; it’s easy to bypass.  It’s when the highway seems most clear, when we are drifting along without any concern or thought of wrong – considering ourselves flawless and smug about the fact – that we are most likely to get hit.

 

It’s when I’m feeling pious and holy that I’m most likely to lash out in impatience or say something snippy.  When my guard is down, my pride is usually up.  Doors to gossip, judging, and hypocrisy slide open.  And wham!  My mouth gets me in trouble.  Did I say that out loud?  I look at someone in the store and form a wayward opinion.   I treat someone in a shabby way.  Bottom line…I find that I’m not at all that person I thought I was.  My mom was right when she told me to look both ways.

 

Romans 7:15, 17-20, 24; 8:1-2

I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.  I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature.  For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.  Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it…What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? 

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.

I Know He Was Praying

Super-creepy, yet kind of sweet.  We became well-acquainted on the short trip.  I hopped in the car and started moving slowly down the narrow streets of our community.  I was headed into town to work in Vacation Bible School and I was running a little late.  As I slowed to make the last turn, I looked left and then right and then at my driver’s side mirror.  There he sat.

 

I’m not crazy about bugs; but I’m not totally freaked out by them either.  I prepared myself to encounter them when I made the decision to move to a warm southern climate.  So when I saw the dignified little praying mantis sitting on the top of my mirror, I just smiled at him and he smiled back.  I sat at the stop sign for a moment to give him time to hop down.  He declined.

 

So I made my turn and increased my speed to twenty-five.  His little praying hands unclasped and started clutching for something to hold onto.  I slowed down to give him one more chance to bail.  He declined.

 

I left the plantation and revved my speed up to thirty-five.  His feelers were flapping in the wind and I’m pretty sure that’s when the praying started.  I had a hard time driving and watching him at the same time.  If I had cared about him as much as I led him to believe, I would have stopped the car and helped him down.  But I was late for VBS.

 

So I turned out onto the highway and upped the pace to fifty-five.  Head down and battling the wind, he discovered that he could go under the lip of the mirror and hunker down a little.  His legs managed to stay put but every part of his body was shuddering against the wind.  Please understand,  I felt terrible guilt.  But I was late for VBS.

 

I pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car.  I said a little prayer and apology for my new friend.  I knew he was dead and I was not looking forward to removing his frail little form.  

 

To my complete delight, one long leg tentatively swung up onto the top of the mirror.  Slowly he pulled himself back up on top.  Then he began to groom himself!  Now I don’t know what he was smoothing down – whether feathers, or scales, or gills.  But he had something there to flatten out.  Then he took each long leg in turn and stretched it as far as it would go to be sure everything was still working.

 

Then he once again settled in to pray and I left to go fix beanie weenies with a clear conscience and my own short prayer of thanks.

Feed Your Children Well

White Christmas was released in 1955 when I was seven years old.  My parents took me to see it and I loved it.  Parts of it.  I thought it was a war movie at first and, even though there was singing in those uniforms, it seemed pretty somber.  But then came the Sisters number with those pretty dresses and that wonderful few seconds of dancing out on the docks.  I was hooked.  

 

The end of the movie just enchanted me, so much so that I begged my parents to stay and watch it again.  In 1955 you could buy a movie ticket and watch the same show over and over all day long.  My sweet parents agreed.  My mother was not a fan of musicals, so this was a bit of a sacrifice for her. I promptly went to sleep and slept through the entire movie except for the final scene.  My parents woke me up just to see that again. 

 

Every year since, I have watched that movie, usually while I decorate the tree.  I’ve always suspected it was the basis of my love for snow.  My December wedding was complete with fur muffs for my bridesmaids.  The scene where they throw open those doors to that winter wonderland gets me every time.

 

As I watched it this year, through tears as usual, I waited for them to reveal the snow to the audience in the inn and to me as well.  And my mouth dropped open as they yelled and waved when a horse-drawn sleigh drove through the scene.  Because that sleigh ride has always been number one on my list of “must do” things before I die.  (A nod to my sweet husband who made that happen for me last January in Colorado.)

 

So just read and say, “very sweet” if you wish.  But I’m still convinced, sixty years later, that a trip to see a Christmas movie made a huge impact on a seven-year-old.   

Anticipation

 

It never goes away, regardless of our age.  That Christmas Eve feeling arrives every year without fail.  Some call it Christmas magic. But I see it as a feeling of expectation…something coming.

 

Small children experience it all through the holidays.  It may be the presents or family coming from far away to visit.  On Christmas Eve, it shows up as excitement over Santa Claus and stockings.  Or perhaps they’ve heard the story that all animals can speak at midnight.  Eyes and ears are on alert as they scan the skies and listen more closely to pets.

 

Reality sets in as teens realize that “magic” is not necessarily going to happen.  But the gifts under the tree are real and take on importance…bigger wishes and more expensive.  Maybe a new Christmas outfit calls from the closet in anticipation of Christmas Eve candlelight service or parties.

 

The anticipation changes for moms and dads, often taking on a dark edge as presents are frantically wrapped and baking and cooking gets into full swing.  The mom is often stressed with too much to do, often self-imposed; and the dad anticipates the very real possibility of an emotional meltdown.

 

Grandparents wait eagerly to see the excited faces of grandchildren.  Sometimes the anticipation comes in the form of dread of an empty house with family far away.  The emotions will hit but never when we expect.

 

When I still had kids at home, Christmas Eve was not a fun time to be at our house.  I was that frantic “Martha,” overworked because I expected too much of myself, set a level of perfection to achieve that was really only important to me.  But, amazing, every Christmas around sunset, whether the work was done or not, a peace – yes, with a touch of magic – settled in and the family moved a little closer together.  

 

In Virginia where it was very cold and sometimes snowing, I would pull on a heavy coat and go stand in the yard late, around midnight.  Just stand and pray, look at the stars, and think about the greatest anticipation of all.  Because that sense of anticipation is about an arrival, for sure.  The coming of Emmanuel, God with Us. 

 

I’m sure that eagerness was with Mary and Joseph as they waited and wondered what the Son of God would look like – would he have hair?  Would he look at all like Mary?  The shepherds must have felt excited and nervous as they make the trek to Bethlehem.  The wise men had days of expectation and wonder as they traveled.

 

This Christmas, I have been blessed with a quiet peace and contentment.  I am not with my children and that always tugs at my heart.  But I am convinced that this year God’s plan for me was time to enjoy Steve’s company and to be physically and spiritually renewed.  My prayer for you this Christmas is that, in addition to the cookies, the family and friends, the presents, you will enjoy the presence of Christ and anticipate His coming again.  Go out at midnight and look up at the sky and see if you don’t sense it!

 

“Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:23)

 

 

Time

I have a bad habit of preaching to others with my own ears closed.  My advice may be solicited and sound because it’s based on God’s Word; but I don’t benefit.  Why?  Do I believe it doesn’t apply to me?  I don’t think that’s it.  I think I just don’t listen.  “Do what I say and not what I do.”

 

This week the lesson hit home once again.  How many times I have said, “Everything we have belongs to God.  Our money, our security, our relationships, our very breaths are gifts given by Him and He has the right to use them as He sees fit.”  And I stand by that.  Except…

 

I was driving to town.  (I’m pretty sure God settled us 8 miles from town so I could spend a lot of time in my car driving back and forth.  He does some of His best dealing with me in the car.)  I was recounting to God all the things I had done for Him lately, how much time I had spent and didn’t He understand I need my time right now because it’s Christmas!  

 

Bonk.  Once again, like a thunderbolt.  “Your time?  YOUR time?  How often have you said everything is mine and you bring nothing to the table?”  

 

This past May we began planning for a live drive-through Nativity.  If anything has ever demonstrated that principle of our own inadequacy, we were to about to live it.  We had an idea.  A vague “wouldn’t this be cool?” vision.  But as the weeks, then months pass, I saw God give resources, time, creativity, and cooperation to His people.  The Nativity could only have happened with His blessing.  

 

However, it did require a great deal of time.  In addition I had been sick for almost a week and then on the road to Virginia for Thanksgiving.  “My” time was stretched thin.  So as the Nativity ended and I found myself with a little less than 2 weeks until Christmas, I was doing a bit of complaining.

 

Over that next week I managed to get my house decorated and groceries bought for Christmas baking.  I had done a great of deal of Christmas shopping early and, well, can I just say I love Amazon Prime?  Because I finally figured out that I could finish up quickly without shipping a lot myself.

 

So on Saturday morning, I found myself standing in my living room crying as I tried to explain to my loving and very patient husband that God had answered my prayer, given me what I asked for, and forced me to listen to my own advice.  I found myself with my decorations finished, my house clean, and all presents bought, wrapped, and shipped.  I found myself FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE with an entire week to do nothing but bake my favorite cookies, watch my favorite Christmas movies, and enjoy my sweet husband’s company.  In spite of the fact that I had used so much of God's time preparing for the Nativity, He had given me back more Christmas time than I have ever had.  You know what?  When our God promises, He means it!

 

“In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight...Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed…But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Proverbs 3:6; 16:3; Matthew 6:33)

Drinking from a Firehose

The illustration works.  You sit in a class overwhelmed by the intensity and sheer volume of information being fired at you, unable to decide whether to just listen to try to get as much as you can or to take notes and digest it later.  The instructor says, “Hang on.  We’re drinking from a firehose today.”  And the data just keeps coming!

South Carolina got a very real picture of a firehose this past week.  I have seen weather phenomena spectacular enough to take pictures of, to write about, to post on Facebook…beautiful sunsets, strange cloud formations, trees bent over by strong wind.  But I have never seen anything like this.  If God is in control, and He is, then He has a reason for this piece of His plan.  I’m sure individuals who have had great loss this week have reason to wonder what it could possibly be.  I simply know that the state as a whole has responded with grace and courage.

This image of the blast of water caused me to think about the power of God.  Could there have been any clearer picture of complete and utter control?  It completely changes the impact of this verse for me:  “At that time men will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. “ (Mark 13:26)  And, as believers, we have access to that!  I’ll let the Word speak for itself.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13) Does that phrase “overflow with hope” seem a little fuller to you now?

“I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms….” (Ephesians 1:18-20)

And to make sure we remember we bring nothing to the table…”But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” (2 Corinthians 4:7)

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”  (2 Corinthians 12:9)  We have been knocked off our feet this week.  But God’s glory is best shown when we are at our weakest.