With Every Breath

Psalm 103:2 -- "Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things He does for me."

Sitting in a medical waiting room, I chat with some cherished few. We are just passing time until a name is called, but the moment turned into so much more for me. Because we talk about Africa.

My Mom and two precious Sessami villagers

I don't remember exactly how the conversation started but I got the opportunity to, once again, share God's grace and His glory. If you've read my book, Home Sweet Somewhere, you know this story so forgive me for the repetition. Yesterday, I was reminded anew so I want to share it with you.

We were in Rhodesia [what is now Zimbabwe] when it all let loose. Not "missionaries" but medical team working in a small clinic settled smack in the middle of a tiny place called Sessami. But, it was time for us to leave. Before we had ever stepped toe one on the bright orange sand in that little village our Mission Board decided that when we were no longer help to the community - when being there was threatening the lives of the national people [not to mention ourselves], it was time to go.

It was time to go.

The Sessami Clinic

Villagers in surrounding areas were being tortured and killed for their knowledge of the white people that worked in the clinics.  The Freedom Fighters wanted us dead - an example of power - but also, they could use our supplies and our ransom to fund their war. They had already killed many people - including other missionaries and medical teams. We were putting people in danger just by being there.

Moments, whispers were shared in private meetings. We would leave but no one should know. No one COULD know. It wouldn't be safe. So a date was set in secret - and it was decided that my Mom, sister and I were to be flown out while Dad and the nurses drove the trucks with the medicals supplies.  The clinic would be stripped so it was no longer a target - it no longer had anything of value.

That was the plan anyway. It didn't take very long for my parents to realize that the meeting had been overheard by spies sympathetic to the Freedom Fighter's cause. They were asked about their departure. A thing no one could have known about unless they were in the secret meeting - our outside, in the dark, listening in.

Switching gears quickly, we were no longer preparing to leave Sessami - we just left.

The three of us girls made it out by Cessna just as planned.

But not Dad.

He was caught in the brush, in the dark.

At first he broke down and was granted the miracle of a mechanic in a small shack out in the middle of nowhere. Yup, a lonely mechanic...all by himself....out in the middle of Africa. Surrounded by red sand, a few thorny Acacias and Baobab trees. Not exactly a highway of frequent traffic - there wasn't really a road.....just sand. But - there WAS a mechanic. Dad was soon on his way again and then ran out of gas. He ended up using the airplane fuel he had in the back of the truck. But while he was "filling up" - a man stepped out of the dark and asked my Dad if he'd just come through the field behind him. Dad confirmed that yes, he had just come from there. But the man asked again. Dad - again - confirmed that he had.

That's when the stranger told my Dad, while shaking his head and clicking his tongue, that he'd just driven through "many, many sweet potatoes". That would be mines. Dad had just driven through a mine field.

So two things happened. One - Dad made it all the way through the mine field without being blown up. And two: whatever "they" were protecting and for whatever reason - they didn't "detain" my Dad. They let  him go on his way.

"May I never forget the good things God has done for me."

When we were out. When Sessami was a distant dot on an old map far behind us.  We learned that the night we were GOING to leave - the night we had originally planned to head out of Sessami - a group of Freedom Fighters found our village, raided our little yellow house and burned it to the ground.

We, however, were not in it.

May I never forget the good things God had done for me.

Every single day - God works His miracles all around me.  All around US. It might not always be as obvious as our escape from Africa. Sometimes, the miracles are very subtle. But they ARE always there. If we could stop for a minute: stop worrying about the grocery bill, how long a tank of gas will last or how to retire on the dwindling 401k. If we could stop - just for a minute - and NOT worry about the number of minutes in a day, wishing for just a few more. The good things - God's good things - still happen.

Lord, let ALL that I am, praise You!

Gray Splendor

Proverbs 16:31 -- "Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life."

It never fails.....half way through [or nearly half] the Avonlea Antique Mall I have to find one of their pretty little benches and sit down to take the pressure off my feet. It's nice that they have a cafe' in there.  We usually take the opportunity to have a slice of carrot cake and some coffee. The place is HUGE! And I LOVE it. The stroll through various antique establishments in and around the St. Augustine/Jacksonville area is one of our favorite things to do. [and lets face it.....makes a cheap date for the parents of two teen age boys].

My Finished Project

To  coincide with my designing jewelry passion/addiction - I like to find antique pieces that need a little help. A little, hair color and a face-lift if you will. Especially -- earrings. The other day I found this great pair of actual Ivory elephants attached to some dilapidated ear screws so oxidized with age that the screws wouldn't turn any longer and the ear-wires left powdery residue on my finger tips. I immediately goose-bumped with excitement and couldn't wait to get the pair home to my jewelry bench.  I knew exactly what I was going to do with them! Yup - these little guys were gonna' get a new lease on life. Their previous journey and adventures had come to an end as they were headed for a new design and a fresh take on fashion - to once again dangle with pride from a pretty woman's ears. [not mine - they are going to be a surprise gift for someone].

I've been listening to women lately. A lot of my friends [and I] have reached that golden "mid-life" stage of life. And some of us are a little wary of the adjustments and are faced with -- well -- with what to equip ourselves on this new hike, this trail, blazed by many ahead of us but so new to our own experience. We must change shoes, re-equip our packs, and are faced with the fact that gummy vitamins are no longer going to do the trick. [bugger]

For some of us - that means........dare I say it? Our kids are on their way out the door. [say it isn't happening already!! I'll believe you....just say it!].

So not only are we faced with a change in our equipment - but we'll be making the rest of this hike with fewer in our group than we once had. It's a little scary. [o.k. - it's a lot scary]. Our roles that we have so securely established over the past, say nineteen or so years, have changed overnight, it seems. Where do I fit in now? What I DO?

I can't specifically answer that question for you personally, but I CAN say -- God's got you covered. He DOES still want to use you to His glory and even though our children are on their own [or will be] - they will not ever stop needing Mom. [and you can look forward to spoiling THEIR children rotten! I, for one, am going to invest in a cotton candy machine - give my grand kiddies a nice little treat and then send them home! ;) Ha!!]

I challenge you - ask yourselves these questions and then look up the answers: How old was Moses when he lead the people out of Egypt? How old was Noah when he built the arch? [I'll give you hint - they were older than 40].

You? Me? .... like the elephant earrings - our station is changing. But we can still sparkle proudly!  We SHOULD!! We have been called to God's glory!

By Any Other Name

Romans 8:15 -- "So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him 'Abba, Father.' "

Sometimes, for no reason at all - my brain will be smacked with faint, grainy images of BEFORE. They almost always put a knot in my stomach. Some of the images can be clear, with full sound in stereo - while others I have to struggle to remember. Whatever picture bombards me - it is NEVER a place that I want to revisit, a moment in my own history that I want to relive. NEVER.

As I wash the suds from the last dish and place it in the dishwasher [yes, I still wash my dishes before washing my dishes....] I am thankful because - I DON'T have to go back to BEFORE. Not ever. Shortly after my second birthday my REAL parents adopted me. They took me out of BEFORE and I never have to go back there. They gave me a new name - I call them Mom and Dad. I am, and will always be a Saunders/Babb [and now, Dalton]. I have not been given a family that makes me a slave of BEFORE. I don't have to be fearful any longer because I have been received as a new family member. I have a new HOME.

Adoption is a beautiful thing. In so many, many ways. I can say with full confidence that I am where I should be - not only because I strive daily to follow the will of God - but also because there is NO WAY on this earth I could have possibly been put here by accident. I was rescued - not once - but TWICE! I was intentionally taken from one family and placed into the right one. On purpose. AND I was saved by grace when Jesus died on the cross for me - giving me HIS family, too. I now call HIM Father.

I look at the words in this verse; now I call Him Abba, Father, and I wonder why I worry about things at all. Yes, things around me seem to be more volatile, nations becoming more ancy, politics becoming more -- well -- political. Crime seems to be rising and common sense flew out the window -- and don't even get me started on common courtesy. But, I have not received a spirit that makes me a fearful slave. Or a slave to fear. I have been given God's Spirit! It says so! Right there in Romans! I/We have been called God's children. GOD'S children. I have no doubt that NOTHING will stand against Him and win! NOTHING! ...so....what am I worried about? Now that I think about it...all my worries seem kind of silly.

A Time To Run

II Corinthians 7:10 -- "Godly grief produces a repentance not to be regretted and leading to salvation, but worldly grief produces death."

I've never been to Boston. I've heard many things about it but have never experienced it for myself. As my friend and I take to the three-mile loop - feet hitting pavement, birds singing around us in deep green brush and fish jumping in the numerous ponds we pass - she tells me a little bit about the loss there. I've kept tabs myself on the bombings - but don't have some of the details that she imparts. I want to cry.

One of the only three people killed during the bombings was an eight year old little girl. Her mother and brother were seriously, permanently damaged - and Dad is left the broken pieces of a family that just that morning was loving and living together - whole.

In the dark, at the airport in Davao City, Philippines - another bomb went off. It killed my high school history teacher, driver's ed coach, father to a couple of boys-grown-men that I grew up with and fellow missionary with the IMB. In all of my years and every year since the incident I think of him often. I will never forget Bill Hyde and the impact he had on so many, many people. Nor will I forget the light he shown so very brightly for Jesus Christ.

I think of Habakkuk's plea and can almost hear the painful inflection of his voice when he asks God "Why do you force me to look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?" [Habakkuk 1:3]

God said: "Look around at the nations; look and be amazed! For I am doing something in your own day." [Habakkuk 1:5]

I don't want to see the pain around me.  I, like Habakkuk, don't want to hear the outcries in the midst of misery and despair. There is a reason I almost NEVER tune into the news. ...And I read II Corinthian 7:10. I am somewhat comforted.  There is salvation for us. We can mourn the loss of those killed in terrorist acts. God is showing us something. We might not understand it all at this point in time, but HE is in control. For those who commit these terrible acts? They have only worldly grief - a grief that produces death. We've seen this death.

Our pastor reminded me/us of something this past Sunday. He mentioned Hebrews 2 - how we should strip of every weight that hinders us and run with the endurance the race that God has set before us.

Run. Like the people in Boston. Like Uncle Bill Hyde taught us in Track.

How? It's hard. It's painful. It's long-suffering.

We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus.

We can take time to mourn. Godly grief is good. We can tell God how hurt, tired, and frustrated we are. How sad we are that we have lost a life. There IS a time to mourn.

And then we run. We throw of our anger. Our frustration. Our confusion. Our worldly grief. And we keep running.

This past Sunday - our pastor also said something that I've never really thought about before.  There really is only ONE sin - every other sin on the planet stems from that ONE. What is it? The sin of unbelief. He pointed out that, if I don't tithe - I act out of the unbelief that God will provide. If I act out my anger and avenge the death of those I love killed by terrorists - I act out of the unbelief that vengeance is God's.

If I don't keep running? [this is me talking, not our pastor. I don't want to misquote him] -- I act out of the unbelief that God has a plan to prosper and not to harm. The unbelief that Jesus died that we may have a more abundant life.

I DO believe. I DO have faith. And while it's hard to sit back and "look at around at the nations" I am fully convicted that God IS doing something in our own day. I WILL keep running!

The Greater Heart

I John 3:20 -- "If our hearts condemn us. God is greater than our hearts and knows all things."

My knuckles were dead white around the microphone. This was it.  I looked out over a sea of faces - all of them with names that I knew because I went to class in a very small school. I put a smile on my face and looked out just above all the heads, focusing somewhere in the back of the room. I was going to sing....A solo....just me....and all of these eyes staring back at me in anticipation knew exactly who I was and would bump in to me later on as we left Wednesday chapel and headed back to class.

I have never failed to get nervous when I step in front of a mic.  It doesn't matter how many times I do it or weather or not I'm alone or in a group - I get nervous.  But it's not the kind of nervous you'd think. As I stood there and sung the words "God is greater than your heart." I prayed every single second that my heart was were it really should be.  That the notes coming out of my mouth were not actually mine, but were God's as He reached people who needed to hear Him through this music.

I mentioned in an earlier blog that it has been years years since I opened my mouth in song-service to the Lord. I condemn myself. I question my motivation, my heart, my readiness for Christ. Am I being selfish as I belt out this music? Do I worry too much that's it not recording studio quality? Am I too vain because I don't like the way I look up here in front of everybody?

Sadly, the answer to some of these questions is actually, yes. I do worry too much and I do get fussy about my weight -- but here's the thing.  God knows my heart.  He knows my true motivation. And as my very dear and amazing friend said to me as we walked the three-mile loop the other day -- I would tell you you're selfish if I really thought that's what your motivation is. But I know your heart and your not selfish at heart.

As usual, she put things in perspective for me AND did my heart good while she was at it. [she's amazing that way]. I can't NOT get up there in front of the mic and allow God to use me as He desires because I'm condemning myself.  If all of us did that - God's work through us would never be accomplished. And I'm not saying it's not a good thing to look inside our motivation every now and then - we need to keep our "me, me, me's" in check. But God is so much ... so very much greater than the lies we allow ourselves to dwell on. He really DOES know ALL things - including - what's in our hearts.

Real Darkness Falls

Matthew 6:23 -- "But when your eye is bad, your whole body is filled with darkness. And if the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is!"

The very faint movie score plays gently in the background as we take a deep breath. Ripley tucks Newt tenderly into a make-shift bed and rubs her cheek. We are about to connect with these two characters anew and while we have already invested in them and the relationship they have with each other, we enjoy this tender moment - enjoy the reprieve from the monumental battle with a very nasty alien species. Our shoulders relax just a bit and our clutch seems to loosen on our pop corn. And then it's out. Newt says: "My mother always told me there were no monsters. No real ones. But there are." [from the movie Aliens]

Ripley has no choice in this moment but to agree. Of course there are real monsters. Why do we tell children that there aren't? ...especially if you've been bought by Christ and know for a fact that there are?

Maybe it's because I grew up a missionary kid in a land full of real monsters that I could see for myself, but my kids were raised knowing there are, indeed, real monsters. Now don't worry, I didn't sit them down at the ripe 'ole age of two and explain things to them - but as they have grown in Christ - they have also grown in armor. I feel whole-heartedly that being properly prepared for battle is essential. And I guess Ripley felt the same way when she told Newt that, yes, unfortunately, there are real monsters.

There are two cases I feel lead to share with you this morning. I cannot name names and I share what I'm about to share with you because I think this Monster has learned to worm it's way in past all of our spiritual defenses and SOMETHING has to be done about it.

Real darkness has fallen on two women I know since I have moved out here to Saint Johns. I'm not saying the move was significant - I can't say that and I won't - but for a frame of reference, there you have it.  It's been during the time span of a single year that I have seen these two things happen.

Depression. A very real, very dark monster. And scary, because it can really creep up on you before you even know what's happened.

One woman - who NEVER finds a moment in her own life when she can't shout out "GOD IS GOOD ALL THE TIME!" - found herself at a loss for words. She, for the first time in her life, just could not see past the dark. She, a lot like most of us who have grown up steeped in memory verses, Bible stories, and victories passed down through hymns and other stories, KNOWS all the answers.  She knows scripture. She knows to take captive every thought [II Cor. 10:5]. She KNEW these things, but was so deeply trapped in the darkness that the answers weren't enough. They didn't seem to be of any help.

The second woman - much like the first, knew all the Bible verses and was, in fact wearing her spiritual armor when she took an exacto blade into the bath tub with her fully intending to end her life there.  She, too - knew to take captive every thought and had, in fact, prayed those exact words. And much like the first woman, the knowledge and the scripture didn't seem to be of any help.

I am happy to say that both of these women lived to fight another day - but let me also tell you that there are many Christian people out there who have been in these two situations who aren't around to fight anymore. What can we do? In the bowls of that space ship miles away from anywhere when there really isn't anybody to hear you scream - how do we take the next step and pick up our guns to stand against insurmountable odds? We know that in the next scene - even though we just ended a battle and barely made it out with our lives - we are going to have to stand up and fight again.  What if we just don't have the strength to do it? What if we just don't care anymore?

Well, here is where it gets tricky.

One of these woman said - "I just kept showing up." She really didn't WANT to show up. She was madder than a hornet when she DID show up, but she did SHOW UP. She was tired. She didn't want to fight the darkness anymore. So, she went into autopilot and simply went through the motions.  She wasn't sure that she'd do it again tomorrow. She wasn't sure that after she showed up she wouldn't leave again and stop fighting the battle. But for that one moment -- she just simply showed up.

Matthew says it loud and clear. If the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is!

And it can get pretty stinkin' dark. And THAT's how Satan wins. Not only do we fail to see the light at the end of the darkness, but since we are in the midst of such pitch black, the light at the end of the darkness isn't light at all, just slightly less dark. When our eyes are bad, our whole body is filled with darkness.

Maybe.....grab a friend with a flashlight. Don't sit in the tepid bath water with a razor blade even though that's what you really WANT to do.  If you give in and Satan chalks up another point on the score board - he's gonna be pretty darn happy. He'll be glad that, while you are saved and will get to see Jesus, you aren't on this earth any longer to do anybody else much good. You can't share your Master's joy.

The darkness is going down. Satan has already lost.  His goal, is to take as many with him as he possibly can. We don't need to give him any help in that regard. If for no other reason than to stick out your tongue in absolute defiance - grab your oozie, set up your turrates, don your battered armor and beg a friend for his/her wrist communicator. Just show up for the next scene.

Matthew 6:22 says: "Your eye is a lamp that provides light for your body. When your eye is good, your whole body is filled with light."

Do you, right now, have bad eyes? GRAB SOME GLASSES! If you just don't have any.....borrow some from a friend that does. But please.....just keep showing up. This too, shall pass.

One Kind Word

Matthew 25:21b -- "Share your master's Joy!"

What little of California that I had been afforded a view - I wasn't entirely sure I really liked, but I think that may have been more on my attitude that it was actually on the State itself. I wasn't really very excited to be back in the U.S. AND in the middle of all the chaos I was STILL struggling with an eating disorder. I would battle the thing for more than twelve years.

I had been caught. While the rest of my fellow missionary kids were bounding down the stairs toward the cafeteria at MuKappa International in Rosemead, California - I had huddled in a corner of my room, hoping to avoid discovery AND the food. It was just my luck that the cleaning crew covered the rooms at that moment and I was immediately sent down to eat with the rest of the gang. Begrudgingly, I slowly made my way down the curved stair way into the lobby.

I'll never forget what happened next.

A woman poked her head out of one of the guest rooms located on the first floor.  She looked me - literally, up and and down - and then said to me: "you'll do."

For what will I do, I wondered?

She asked me to come into the room. It was Joni Earekson Tada's room. I couldn't believe it. the nurse then informed me that her partner had gone out on an errand and hadn't yet returned, but she needed to get Joni into her wheel chair or she'd be late for her speaking engagement - her greeting and encouragement to all of us M.K's. I HAD heard she was coming, of course. I knew she was to be the key-note speaker and was actually excited about it because she'd been someone I read about and admired for a long time. But - in my wildest dreams  - I'd never imagined I would be meeting her face to face!

I did as the nurse instructed and Joni was placed, gently into her wheel chair. She asked about me as I did so. About where my parents had been stationed and how I like Rosemead. Then she said to me: "what size shoe do you wear?"

Huh!? I looked down at my feet as if they'd suddenly just sprouted there. I couldn't remember what size shoe I wore.  When it finally came to me and I answered her question she said - looking me strait in the eye - "I was about your size when I had my accident."

What!? No way. Nobody could have been cursed with my size and shape and my clodhopper feet. [this is what was actually going through my head - truth or no.]

She shared joy with me. She probably doesn't know that, but she really did. She looked at me, looked me in the eye and didn't see the mess that I saw when I looked into the mirror. She saw another human being. I was totally dumbfounded.

And the cherry on top?

She expressed her excitement, her awe, at being introduced to REAL missionary kids. She couldn't believe she'd been granted the gift of meeting us, face to face.

REALLY!?  SHE couldn't believe it?  Here I was, lifting Joni Earekson Tada out of the bed and into her wheel chair and SHE was the one in awe? In so many, many ways - this beautiful, smart and talented woman amazes me.  She just does!

Share your Master's joy! In my New Living Translation it says "let us celebrate together!". Don't be afraid or timid to tell some one: "hey, I like your earrings" or "hey, good job at making my sub" or "THAT is a cool shirt!". You never know, they might really NEED to hear something joyful! You might not realize just how much they really do - but we ARE instructed to share it!

I for one, am so very glad that Joni did. Like I said, she probably doesn't even realize how very much her simple comment meant to me. I will never, never forget it.

Spittin' Mad

Mark 3:5 -- "He looked around at them angrily and was deeply saddened by their hard hearts."

Goosebumps popped up all over my arms and legs. Good music does that to me and the music was awesome! There in front of me on this giant movie screen was a chopper full of bad guys caught in a web -- spun between the twin towers in New York city. What wonderful imagery! The bad guys were done in by an all American hero who utilized one of our most prized American symbols of power and yes, freedom.

But if you didn't happen to catch that particular trailer for Spider Man in 2001, you were not ever going to see it. They pulled it. Why? [I actually did just find this on YouTube. Type in Twin Tower Spider Man Trailer to see it.]

Somebody somewhere decided it was too offensive after the collapse of the World Trade Center in September of 2001. In my book - them's fightin' words.

Too offensive? What better way to celebrate US? Show 'em we took a hit but will stand back up to fight back! Let the world see our American hero fighting evil in memory of those who lost their lives on that horrible day in September. Don't hide from the imagery because you might offend somebody. It makes me spittin' mad!!
celebrate

Here in Mark chapter 3, Jesus is watching the Religious Upper Crust turn up their noses at some one in need because they were upholding the law. A law that THEY had interpreted in a very human way and chose to enforce in pompous piety. Why? Were they going to be offensive if they helped a fellow human being? And if it WAS actually decided that their kind actions WERE offensive -- who says so? ....and more importantly, who cares?

My point? There are moments when it is is O.K. -- even appropriate -- to be offensive. To be angry. Jesus was angry on more than one occasion and he didn't let what other people think get in the way of doing what was right.

Why do we?

I want to see that Spider Man trailer again. I want to see the World Trade Center in the fight against the bad guys. And yesterday? I want to see the ONE reporter who turned his camera off and ran into the smoke to help a person crying out in pain. I want to see him. After hearing on the radio the tenacity of reporters who were actually asking standers by for information on body parts - I want to see that one guy who didn't go looking for the mayhem. Where is HE?

Ya know what? I'm spittin' mad. I think ALL of us should be. Let them puff out their feathers when I use the Biblical definition of marriage, or parenthood, of leadership.  It's all right.  THEY will either get over it, or they won't -- but I'm not going to let that stand in the way of doing what is RIGHT.

Taal

Genesis 21:19 -- "Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water."  

As far as the eye could see -- all I could see -- was sharp, black, jagged volcanic rock. We were climbing the crater. Only a few of us decided to make this trek deeper into the center of Mt. Taal [pronounced: Tuh-All], the rest of the class had remained behind to float in the lake. It was much cooler there.

Taal, Philippines is one of the wonders of the world. It's a crater-turned-lake blown out by a huge volcanic eruption. Inside the crater is an island that hosts a crater-turned-lake that was blown out by a huge volcanic eruption. Inside THAT crater is an island with a crater that has a lake.....it's amazing. It's beautiful. It's brutal on the feet and HOT! But oh, so worth the difficult climb.

I was thirsty. We were nearing the inner crater full of hot, steamy blue water that we couldn't drink. First, it was too hot - and second, it was full of sulfur and acid. And my canteen was completely empty. My mouth felt like cotton and my throat started to stick to itself. Somehow, all of that was forgotten when I looked around and saw where I was.

It felt like a different planet. Black rock everywhere only punctuated by the ocassional patch of sand and bubbling volcanic vent shooting even more heat up into the air around us.

Because I have very brown hair, the top of my head absorbed heat from the sun that had beat down on it for hours and I really just wanted to sit down in the shade. ...but there wasn't any shade. And we couldn't sit down because of the sharp terrain. So - there we stood - awe struck in a very foreign land. I was happy when the announcement was made that we were headed back to base camp.  Even the warm waters of the lake there would be cooler than this and I could already FEEL the relief of it on my skin. But - you had to stay on top of the lake. If you sunk your toes - even a little - into the sands below you were met with heat emanating from the crater beneath us. If we wanted to cool down, we stayed floating on the top.

When I read this verse in Genesis this morning, I thought of Taal. Because here, Hagar was exiled into the desert with her son to care for while trying to survive the incredible heat. Her canteen was empty and she was utterly alone [or so she thought]. When she remembered God and sent a fervent prayer toward heaven, she saw a well of water when she opened here eyes. Until that point, she'd been - let's face it - feeling sorry for herself. [not that she didn't have a good reason, but pity-parties are seldom productive]. She was overwhelmed in a very foreign place. She forgot - as WE do - God was there with her the whole time. He never left her. If she hadn't stopped and put her focus back on the Lord, she may have missed the well. Where would she be then?

I'm not judging Hagar by any means. She mirrors myself in so many ways during these few verses. I can remember, sitting on the shores of that crater on Taal looking up at the stars that had popped out so brilliantly - needing to get out of my sleeping bag and make my way to the little tent with the hole in the ground but kind of afraid to do so because inside was the biggest wolf spider I had ever seen in my life. I remember seeing - actually SEEING - satellites float above us in space and staring at the Southern Cross. I felt alone - even though I wasn't. I panicked, there in the dark - until I remembered I could ask a counselor for help. It was that simple. Ask for help, get a flashlight and an escort to the toilet tent. If I asked nicely maybe my escort would shoo out the spider.

I can't begin to imagine what Hagar felt and certainly my Taal experience pales in comparison. She must have been scared, hurt, angry - wanting to fold in on herself and wilt but not being able to because she had a little boy to care for - and then, maybe feeling like a failure when she couldn't see past giving up. ...and the whole time, she was closer than she even realized to her salvation. In more ways than one. God was with her the whole time - and within ear shot - was a well that she couldn't see because of her blind panic.

How do we reach the well? Because there is ALWAYS a well. How do we get passed ourselves and our fear, our anger, our anxiety to find it and drink deep? We stop. It's that simple. Just stop. Focus on our salvation, on our Lord and remember Him FIRST. He WILL provide.

Oh, How I Need You, Lord

Isaiah 26:9 -- "I long for You in the night; yes, my spirit within me diligently seeks You."

The engine pops and sighs and loud beeping informs me that I have left my keys in the ignition, so I quickly reach in and pull them out. I check all my pockets to make sure I have all my little shark's teeth containers, lip balm and what-have-you as I turn around and head toward the board walk.  I sigh, too.  I have waited for this moment all week.

Yesterday's hall from Mickler's Landing

I can feel the warm on my shoulders. I smell the salt in the air. The minute my toes hit the sand I can breath again. Looking out over the deep blue I scout for shell quashes and decide on combing to the south today. It's a good low tide. Leaving the old shrimp boat Fortuna [lost to a hurricane in the 30's] exposed with broken netting sticking up from the sand like dirty blond hair that needs a trim.

My eyes immediately find a Hammerhead tooth and I pop the top off my little vile to tuck it neatly away for safe keeping. I smile to myself. I have longed for this moment and in spite of every effort to make it out here before today - Thursday - this is the first opportunity for me to launch my escape. I can feel my whole body smile. I talk with the Lord as I walk into the briney mists that blow in on the breeze. [I have learned to do this silently, people look at me funny when I do it out loud].

We spent two and some odd hours out at Mickler's Landing. Tyler splashed in the surf while I hunted for teeth and sting-ray mouth plates. We talk about moving up north where we can enjoy snow, mountains and fresh streams with Salmon in them - where my doctor says my battered metabolism has a shot at healing some -  but I don't think we'll ever get there. I think my soul would feel claustrophobic.

No matter how busy my week gets - or how unfit the weather - or what season it might be on the calendar - I sneak in my beach time. It's like the verse in Isaiah for me. I breath it in. My hair sticks together with salt and beads of sand and broken coquina cling to my legs and feet. I feel God here more than anywhere on earth. I see Him in the waves, in the flotsam, in the gulls that beg shoe-bees [tourists] for potato chips and gold fish crackers. In the dunes where we rope off new sea turtle nests and anxiously await the young to hatch. I walk and talk with my Lord.  My spirit seeks Him and I long for these moments. I diligently plan to take them and break with God - no matter what's going on in my life. Without these precious salty minutes in silent prayer - I would be a flower attempting to bloom without water - shriveled up and parched in the baking heat.

Great Escape

Isaiah 41:13 -- "I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand and say to you, 'Do not fear, I will help you."

Sleek green and velvety smoothness scurried across the floor and under a shelf. The little Anole lizard had wandered into the garage and promptly under a shelf. Not wanting her to meet our cats, I had been running around like a crazy person trying to catch the little bugger and get her back outside. She needed the cool dirt and lush leafy green of the shrubs in the front - not a cracked concrete floor with motor oil and spilled fertilizer. If I could speak lizard - I could tell her I was just trying to help her out.

The Florida Anole Lizard [female]

Green lightning bolted from the shelf to the lockers - where I banged my head on the corner of a door that won't stay closed - and from the lockers to the window sill behind some blinds that have seen better days.

Aha!!  I can get her there!

I gently separate two of the blinds that had yellowed and were bleached from the Florida sun to find her up against the corner in the middle of a bug grave yard and old spider webs. She looked up at me and she turned her head in that I-have-a-question angle that animals sometimes have. And there I trapped her, cupping my hands and gingerly letting her panic run her into my palm. Careful not to break her tail, I took her out front and into the hedges all the while whispering to her [because I'm sure she can understand English] "don't freak out, I'm here to help you."

Whew! That was an ordeal.

I see this verse in my head. Isaiah 41:13. And I can imagine God watching me thrash around on the dirty floor of life while He's trying to guide me back into the green, the soft, and the cool of the path that He knows is better for me. But I'm blind with panic and run in every direction but the ONE He has laid out for me. He whispers to me, "don't be afraid, I will help you." But I'm so often way too focused on getting MYSELF out of the garage - the predicament - the crisis, or what have you - that I can't hear His voice. Nor do I calm enough to see the escape He has provided.

And I am thankful that He does not give up and leave me to my self-induced fate. He waits. He is the Lord, MY God and will hold my hand through this life. If I give Him my panic, my life - and allow Him the wheel - I can be soothed, calmed, and back on the more efficient and plentiful path, rested and unafraid
.

Hope Draws Near

Hebrews 7:19 -- "For the law never made anything perfect. But now we have confidence in a better hope, through which we draw near to God."  

In the State of Georgia, where the dirt runs deep red and the Bull Dogs rule - where peanuts are plentiful and the one and only true Vidalia Onion grows - it is against the law for one to carry and ice-cream cone in his/her back pocket if it's Sunday. I'm not sure what the fine is, if you should decide to break this law and somehow squish a soupy, sticky cone of dripping ice-cream into your back pocket on a Sunday, but it IS a law. Someone took the time, effort, and energy to ensure that this law was written in the books and managed to drum up enough support to vote it in. I would love to know the story behind THAT! And I want to know why there is apparently no law against carrying one in your front pocket.

I have this image of the good people of Georgia putting on their Sunday best to attend Services and keep the Sabbath Holy, and while shaking hands with fellow believers in greeting they have sticky, runny, gooey dairy product running down their legs. Only in the front, though.  Not the back.  That would be against the law. ...and I don't envy the custodian stuck with cleaning up the pews after church!

We people can be pretty silly. And all of our efforts to build, to fix, to pen law -- have never made anything perfect. We just don't have it in us.

What we DO have....is HOPE. We have confidence in a better hope. This amazing, blazingly brilliant hope draws us near to God.

Times are so very different than they were fifty years ago.  For example, we aren't allowed to pray in our schools anymore. And while some of the changes are GOOD....like, I'm glad people can't just light up their cancer sticks anywhere and share their lung polluting toxins with those of us who value clean breathing [no offense to smokers]...some laws, some changes, definitely fall into the "not perfect" category.

I use to listen to talk radio every single day.  I had a few faves and just couldn't miss a broadcast. But lately, it's depressing. I don't tune in like I once did and I find that more often than not - I skip the news. It's just so very depressing.  But....I have confidence in a better hope.  Better than my chosen Presidential candidate or runner up for Mayor. Better than illusive tax cuts or the so called "reform" of our health care system.  Even better than lower interest rates on home mortgages and insurance premiums.  We get to cling to a BETTER hope.  The confidence that this too shall pass. And really, very little of all of THIS STUFF matters because one day, I'll be going home. WE will be going home. WE will draw near to God and sing of his wonderful grace and mercy.  We will shout it from the Heavens -- all of the wonderful things He has done and the wonder that He is.

That truly is a BETTER hope!

Micro Lights

Psalm 93:4 -- "But mightier than the violent raging of the seas, mightier than the breakers on the shore - the Lord above is mightier than these!."  

The moon was big and round and bright and just beyond it's halo were millions of stars twinkling at us as we dipped our toes into the waves that seemed to be sneaking onto the beach.  I don't remember how it was we were able to get permission to take a trek down to the beach in the middle of the night, but I was spending the night with a friend and her parents said it was o.k. as long as we had a bantay [pronounced bon tie - in Cebuano means someone to keep watch].

The night was hot and the cool, salty water felt amazing. We didn't have air conditioning, so when the temp stayed in the upper 90's through out the entire night, we could really, really feel it. Needless to say, we were eager for this reprieve. My friend and her big sister splashed in ahead of me.  I was taking in the night.  It was beautiful.

Swimming out past the breakers to meet up with the other girls, I noticed something that to this day -- I will never forget.  The water sparkled. Each time I moved a limb and stirred the water these tiny little lights danced and put out an amazing amount of light.  I was in awe.  I know, now, that they were tiny little creatures that fluoresced when bumped, but at the time, it just look like micro lights - tiny particles of neon glitter that made a nice warm glow when my body moved through the water. I haven't seen them while here in the US, and I don't know why there was such a huge difference between a night time dip in the Pacific compared to a night time dip in the Atlantic....but I was so amazed and as I said....I will never forget that night with the Hill girls and our bantay.

The beach, to me, is like a deep breath of fresh air.  A sigh after sinking into a nice hot bubble bath or the complete relaxation after a really good massage.  It represents healing. Peace. Solace. And on that night....complete awe and reverence for my God.

I have seen the sea angry. The sands that mark the shore line get whipped into my face, stinging my eyes, my legs and my hands.  I've seen the waves crash the breakers as if they were linebackers in a foot ball game. But it's still a respite for me.  Even in a storm I like to go and dip my toes in the surf.  I can feel the ache and the worry wash out with the tide.

I think of this verse. Mightier than the breakers is our Lord. And more gentle than the micro lights dancing into a frenzy of warm glow. Deeper than the trench off the coast of Mindanao and more vast than both Pacific and Atlantic oceans put together. His mercy more plentiful than the shark's teeth for which I constantly scout at Mickler's Landing and more amazing than the turtle nests we tape off during our Turtle Patrols in the dunes. I comb the sands and take it all in.  The salt in the air. The shells between my toes and the sun making diamonds on the waves. The Lord above is mightier than these.

Ticket to Ride

I John 3:16 -- "This is how we have come to know love: He laid down His life for us."

I'm still basking in the glow of Easter Sunday, remembering the sunshine, the warmth on my skin as we walked up to the church building.  All the people mulling around in bright conversation to match the bright in their pretty Easter clothes and sunny Easter hats. The smiles. The joy. The celebration in victory over death.

This morning the sun is once again bright.  As I drive my husband to work, I marvel at the simple and wonderful beauty of the sun sparkling off the ponds, the grass still wet with dew, and the deep Florida green that's beginning to pop out again after the brown and blah of winter. I love the feel of it. I love the hum of the world waking up, getting it's coffee and revving up for what the day might hold. And I remember this; that this is how I have come to know love......I have it because God first loved me.

Our Pastor gave us a story this past Sunday.  I want to share it with you and I love to write so ..... here it goes, but I have to say up front, I can't claim the idea behind this short tale....as I heard it from our Pastor first. [I AM using my own words, though].

On a bright birthday, a young boy reaches a milestone and for the first time, celebrates double digits.  His Dad has decided to take him and six of his friends to an amusement park to mark this special day.  It promises to be exciting.

The smells and sounds of fun waft through the air.  Laughter reverberates through the crowds and Dad prepares himself to hand out the tickets.  The boys get in line, each taking a ticket from Dad.  But at the end of the line, there are more boys than tickets.  Dad was sure he counted right.  But here stands the youth, holding out his hand palm upward in great expectation. Dad says: "who are you?"

The boy looks up and smiles. "I'm your son's new friend."

It takes a minute...but he asks the boy to wait and then purchases an additional ticket.  Because, the child is a friend of his son.

And just like that, the new friend gets into the park.

And just like that, we get to, one day, go home and be with our Lord, because we are the cherished of God's Son. We get a ticket. Not because of the things we've done in this world.  The good works in the name of Jesus or the sincerity in our repentance.  Not because we teach Sunday School, dress conservatively or sing in the choir.  But because a ticket was purchased for us.

Today - and probably always - there is a LOT of keeping up with the Jones'. Even at church.  So-in-so has been teaching Sunday school for twenty years, so-in-so goes to the soup kitchen every Thanksgiving, so-in-so tithes every single pay day.....these ARE all good things.  They are things that God has asked us to do. But more than anything, how is my heart?  Do I give to look good?  Do I give an unexpected ticket to a little boy who wants to go into the park because other people are watching me and I might score some brownie points in Heaven, if not in the eyes of the other parents in the crowd?

or - do I share love because I have it? I have it because God gave it to me. I get into the park because God bought me a ticket so I tell others how they can get in, too?

I once asked a woman more than sixty years old why she goes to church.  And let me tell you, she goes to church every single time the doors are open.  She stuttered at me and walked away. She couldn't tell me why. All she could say to me, is: that it's because we're suppose to.  And that's where it ended.

It's true.  We ARE supposed to. But we CAN and we DO because this is how we have come to know love. God laid down his Son's life for us. It's that simple.  It's a matter of reaching out, palm upward in expectation, and accepting the ticket.  The Jones' can take the ticket, too.  And it's not a race. I don't wrack up points with Jesus when I outdo the Jones family.  I go to church because I love the Lord. My works are nothing to Him, really. And while I'm sure He's happy that I give my faith feet,  He doesn't need any help from me, really.  But I DO, and I GIVE, and I LOVE, because love was given to me. And this is me, saying I love you, back.

Spiritual Graffiti

Proverbs 7:1,3 -- "My son, keep my words and store up my commands within you. Bind them on your fingers; write them on the tablet of your heart."

Exhausted after a day at the lab where I was officially titled "lab assistant", I made my way through the employee parking lot to find my beat up little car. On the front I had a novelty plate that had Proverbs 7:1 printed on it.  Not the whole verse, just the address.

As I reached the driver's side door and started to climb in, a fellow employee approached me and asked me what the verse was.  At first, I didn't understand what he was talking about.  Then he pointed to the front of my little '86 Chevy Sprint and asked: "what does the verse say?"

I actually had to come around to the front of the car to look at the plate.  I couldn't remember what was on it.  And THEN, I couldn't remember the verse. I looked at him blankly. I was actually shocked that he even knew it was a Bible verse, because he had quite the reputation around the lab and it was a very good one.  But I wanted to answer his question.

I asked him to hang on and then dug around in the back seat [where I always keep a Bible] and found the verse.  I read it to him and just looked at him, waiting for some kind of response.  What he said, actually made me feel horrible.  He said: "You shouldn't have that on the front of your car if you don't even know what it says."

He turned and walked away while putting on his lab coat.

In all the time I worked at that hospital, he never spoke to me except for that one time, when he pointed out I didn't know what I was advertising on my car.  It really  made me think.

The next image I had in my head was that my heart probably didn't have nearly enough graffiti on it.  I had just come out of an autopsy.  The kind ladies in Histology let me sit in and take notes because I had it mind that I would study histology -- so I knew what the heart looked like.  I even weighed the one that they'd taken from the deceased on the table.  And I thought, mine should have writing on it.  Mine should have large letters clearly tagged with bright spray paint and splotches. I want to keep God's words and commands stored within my heart.  Bound to it in big bold print.

I don't advertise on my car anymore. Not really because of the conversation in the parking lot, but because I'm terrified one day my driving will be horrible and somebody will see a Jesus Loves You sticker on my bumper and receive mixed messages -- but I also don't' want to advertise things that I haven't written on the tablet of my heart.

SO....I don't put stickers on my car.....AND, I strive to do better with my memory verses. I strive for more spiritual graffiti.  I want my heart to be lacking for space to squeeze in even one more letter.