SelahV Today by hariette petersen

I COULD HAVE SAID NO

Today was a wonderful Lord's day.  It began the moment I awoke. Incredible joy filled my heart as I prepared for church.  When I got in the shower I felt the presence of God and heard His still small voice.  As water sprayed the conditioner out of my hair, ideas of impossibilities bounced through my mind. 

I couldn't find one of my Sunday shoes.  I only have one pair of Sunday shoes.  I'd taken them off three Sundays ago.  Haylee Jae had been over this past week and had worn them and only one was in the hallway.  I had no idea where the other was.  While I blow-dried my hair and applied make-up, my husband searched the house.  (He is so good.)  I only made him fifteen minutes late for open assembly in our department.  We were there in plenty of time to get our coffee and chat a bit.

My mind wandered as announcements were made.  I thought about the upcoming Discipleship class I would teach that evening for ladies.  I hadn't taught a group of ladies in three years.  Three years!  I was really surprised to be asked by our Minister of Education.  I could have said no.  But the Lord said, "Yes."  I decided I didn't want to chance the consequences of rebelling against Him so I acquiesed and picked up the literature.  I was excited.

Our Sunday School lesson further increased my excitement in what the Lord was up to with me.  Our discussions centered around what the Lord did with those folks who were building the tower of Babel.  I knew immediately the Lord wanted me to remember He was going to be in charge of my teaching in the Discipleship Class that evening.  I got more excited.

Worship began before I entered the sanctuary.  From the hallway, I heard the voices of our combined youth and adult choirs singing "I Pledge Allegiance to the Lamb".  We were about to have a celebration.  I could tell.  The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I entered the sanctuary with my husband.  We didn't sit in our usual spot five rows back and just left of the pulpit.  Nope.  I saw my 15-year-old grandson on the right side of the pulpit in the choir loft.  I wanted to be in view of him as we worshiped.  I motioned to my husband to sit front row center.  And then I began to worship in earnest.  My heart flooded with joy.  I felt like it was Christmas.  God was really up to something this morning.  I could just tell.

Media testimonies about how much our church meant to folks were shown on the huge screens on each side of the walls.  An on-the-street interview by our pastor with the community was shown.  The choir sang "I Pledge Allegiance" again.  I had a hard time standing still.  So I didn't.  My hands wouldn't just clap in rhytym to the music like everyone else's.  Oh, no.  The Spirit had me raising mine in praise and adoration.  I began to get really excited.  What was the Lord up to?

Our pastor preached from Malachi about bringing our tithes and offerings to the Lord and "testing Him" to provide in miraculous ways.  Instead of God telling me how He was going to meet all the expenses in my life, He was telling me how much more He wanted me to give to Him for His glory.  I wasn't the least bit surprised to hear myself agreeing with God to make an enormous sacrifice in the coming year for our 1.4 million-dollar building program to construct a huge youth building to accomodate all our youth for Sunday School and Wednesday night Worship services.

Debt free.  We couldn't break ground till we'd put aside one million.   Bro. Doug told us we had 725,000 thus far.  It blew my mind.  I hadn't paid much attention to the offering tallies in our newsletters each week.  We only need $275,000!  I leaned over and told my husband, "We're breaking ground this Spring.  I can feel it."  Again I heard the Lord tell me what part He wanted me to play in His plan.  I could have said, "No."  But the Lord said, "Yes."  And I was not about to buck Him after such a blessing in our worship time.

My husband and I went to the altar to pray.  We prayed about a lot of things.  Next week we turn in our commitment cards.  We all go to the front of the church and place them in a big treasure chest.  It's not something our church keeps record of.  The commitment is between us and God.  I was so excited.  My heart and soul and mind was brimming with joy.

After the service the President of our Ladies Ministries asked me to teach a study at our Ladies' retreat in March.  I could have said, "No."  But God said, "Yes."  And I wasn't worried in the least about the consequences if I'd refused.  I was so excited that the Lord was going to allow me to be part of building His Kingdom by edifying and encouraging ladies, that I almost shouted hallelujah.

Tonite as I taught the Discipleship Class, I shared my experiences of the day.  The study I'm teaching for seven weeks is "He Speaks To Me."  It was easy to share how God speaks to me.  I'd heard Him all day.  I sensed the need to make a confession to the ladies.  I could have said, "No."  But the Lord said, "Yes."

I shared how I couldn't understand why I didn't experience the joy of the Lord and have the expectancy of a child at Christmas, every Sunday morning.  I wondered why today was different.  Then I realized why.  This morning I'd positioned myself to hear God speak.  This morning I felt like the deer which panteth after water.  This morning I could have said, "No."  But this morning, all I wanted to do was say, "Yes, Lord, yes!"  And so I did.  And God blessed me beyond all expectation.

I haven't even begun to "test Him" yet.  Can you imagine what He'll do when I surrender all?  I'm taking an empty bucket next week.  I'm gonna pray and fast from Friday to Sunday morning.  I wanna make sure there's room to hold it all.  Gosh, I'm excited.  And I know exacty where my Sunday shoes are now--they're ready and waiting--just like my heart. [copyrighted,selahV,2007]

A WOMAN WITH MEANING

What is a woman today? Wife? Mother? Lawyer? Doctor? Teacher? Want to venture a guess?  What role are we to play in the Kingdom? How are we to assume our role? For what purpose did God create woman?

I look at my five granddaughters and my one daughter and wonder.  Where is our world leading them?  Where is the church leading them?  I can remember a time when my father thought I should be a teacher.  When I got married at the tender age of seventeen, he was so very disappointed in me.   He never really got over that, either.  Still talks about it today.  I laugh.

I see women becoming people of notoriety which would never have been a thought in most women's minds when I was a child.  As a teen, the subjects in school were geared toward women becoming secretaries or teachers.  Most thought of being wives.  Oh, there is the few liberal-thinking, progressive women of yore that forged the way for we women to do more than tat, quilt, can beans, garden, wash diapers and hang laundry on the line.  But I wonder how progressive we have really become.

We have our fine pot-scrubbing dishwashers, our miracle-one-minute microwaves, our complete dinner in a tray, our babysitting Dish-satellite home entertainment centers, our wrinkle free clothes.  In fact, fashion houses make material with wrinkles so we don't have to even worry whether our dresses are free of crimps at all.

We probably have more time-saving devices in this century than we have time to use them.  In fact, I think that is the problem with being a woman today.  We have no time.  No time to reflect.  No time to meditate upon the Word of God.  No time to play with our children.  No energy left for our husbands because we've spent the whole day pushing those time-saving devices and programing our lives to fit into a culture that demands women be more than women.  Much more.  We are to be men, too.

I have some lady friends who I admire so much.  They are stay-at-home women.  They have educations.  They have skills.  They have gifts.  And they have talents.  But they use them in service to the Lord and others.  Their greatest joy in life is in being women of virtue.  Known for hospitality.  Encouragement.  And servanthood to others.  They are the backbone of society; they are volunteers.  They have the greatest marriages.  Their husbands respect them--sacrifice for them and validate their worth.

What is the place for a woman today? Home with the children? Homeschooling? Volunteering at schools? Driving kids on fieldtrips? Reading books to toddlers instead of plopping in a Veggie-Tale movie? Answering endless whys? Baking homemade bread? Being a helpmate to their spouse?

Or are we subject to society's whims? Is a woman's place no longer in the home but in the world of labor? Are woman to dominate the workforce and make equal pay for equal work? Are they to be the CEO's, the Deans, the Senators, the Speakers of the House, the Secretaries of Defense, the Presidents of the United States? The first woman who? Is that a woman's place?

I've been confused over this issue as long as I've known I was a female.  Being raised with four brothers and a dominating, domineering father in a world of women in search of more than what my stepmother was, has caused multiple conflicts in my mind.  Rising from childhood to womanhood in a time of Women's Liberation added to my confusion.  Media, society and psychologists demanded a better way for women and women who wanted to stay home were shunned as insignificant bon-bon popping slobs.  Not to mention ignorant.  Then finally, women began leaving the workforce and going back to being homemakers.  Homemaking became noble again.  But the confusion is still there.  The finger-pointing is still there.  The guilt is still there.

I am a woman of meaning.  I love being a wife, a mother, a grandmother and friend.  I don't like the competition of trying to be more in the world than what I was created to be.  That's just the way I am.  And anyone is entitled to disagree with me.  It doesn't bother me a bit.  I'm next to certain that you won't lose a wink of sleep over my opinions.  I really don't think it's as important to know what it means to be a woman as being a woman with meaning.  What do you think?  What does being a woman mean to you?  [copyrighted, selahV, 2007] FOR MORE OF WHAT MATTERS TO SelahV, click HERE.      

Seed of Faith

You can barely see it. A tiny green sprout on the tip of the dead limb of this once flourishing tropical plant.

When healthy, this log-like stick has clusters of long spiked leaves.  Kinda resembles a palm tree that sprouts out the sides of the log.  I bought this plant when it was healthy and gave it to my son in May of 2004.  He nurtured it and watered it and it grew beautifully.  Then my son died.  And the plant sat in 90-plus degree heat in his home for weeks without care.  When my husband and I went to pack his belongings and bring them home to store I grieved again at the apparent loss of that plant.  My husband watered the dried plant, then we brought it home and prayed it would survive.  In our time of grief, it gave us comfort.  We so wanted it to live.

Every day we'd watch for some sign of life to spring forth from the stump.  Every day I'd think about the afternoon my son, his girls and I went shopping at Wal-Mart to purchase tons of geraniums, petunias, zinnia's, asters and other plants to have a flower garden in his yard.  I'd smile as I recalled how excited my son was to have that plant in his home.  Day after day I'd go out each morning and look to see if there were any sign of life.  But every day the stump was just a stump.  All the leaves were gone.  My husband and I would laugh at that stump.  We decided it didn't matter if it didn't produce life again.  We would keep it anyway.  We'd just keep the stump and remember.  Then... 

One day I went out to water my petunias (another story) and I noticed a tiny green sprout.  I was so excited.  I rejoiced in the Lord.  I could hardly wait to show my husband.  The first thing I did was take pictures of it.  Life.  There was life.  I thought, it made it!

But it hadn't.

Upon closer inspection I saw in the center of what once was a limb of leaves, a black seed's shell.  The tiny green sprout was actually a sunflower seed implanted in the limb.  The seed had been watered by recent rain and when it died, it sprouted to life in the form of the green sprout.  My heart sank.  The stump had not been revived.  It was indeed dead.

I sat in a lawn chair and stared at the green sprout.  How did that seed get there?  A bird.  A bird must have brought it there.  It had it in its beak and it sat on the stump and something startled it and it dropped its seed and there it sat in the center of the stump till it was watered by the rain and burst forth into life.

I was reminded of a verse my son's friend had sent me in a card soon after his death.  John 12:24 "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."  Robbie had told me that Chad's death brought new life to many people.  His life had brought them so much joy and so much spark and vitality.  And no one would ever be able to forget all he was to them in the last few months of his life.  And he reminded me how Chad's life would go on and on because of his love for others and Jesus.

I thought of all the things Chad had done in his 33 years.  I thought about the joy he'd given me.  I thought about the mounds of cards I'd received that told me how much his life had meant to others.  Indeed, he bore much fruit.

Then I thought about how God could have let that silly stump sprout leaves and grow again.  He could have done that for me.  He could have.  But He didn't.  Instead, God sent me a seed.  He placed it in the center of a dead limb.  And He even watered it.  Then He sent His Sun and caused that Seed to die and burst into Life and increase my faith.  How much greater a miracle that a seed come to a stump and sprout.  What are the odds?  I received it as God's gentle reminder to me that He was the author of life and death.  And while I might want life my way, I must learn to trust life His way.  It's not easy.  It's very hard at times.  But the seed God sent my way that day was a blessing of grace to meet my need for faith through days of grief to come. [copyrighted, selahV, 2007]

So I Had a Bad Day

So today wasn't that great a day.  I expected 5 to 8 inches of snow this a.m.  We got rain.  No biggie.  Just one of those unpredictable things.  No matter how much technology there is, no one can actually be certain what kind of weather we will have on any given day.  It's beyond our control.  Alot like life.  And death.

We think we have plans.  We make plans, but just like the rich man who stored all his barns with goods for another day, the Lord required his soul that night.  No more "eat, drink and be merry."

When I look at this picture I am reminded of the absolute joy my son had on July 5th, 2004.  He was on the North Shore Beach in St. Petersburg.  If you could see a close-up of his face it was filled with joy and excitement.  He'd never had a seagull eat a cracker from his hand.  And here, one was doing it.  In time all the seagulls on St. Petersburg beach seemed to congregate to be fed a crumb or two.  When I snapped this photo, I had no idea how very important it would one day be to me.  As a matter of fact, I had no idea how much I'd treasure that whole time in Florida.

There are so many details of that week that I cling to and try not to forget.  I don't want to forget one single thing.  Watching fireworks from Clearwater Beach the day before.  Getting stuck in traffic forever that evening afterwards as we inched our way back to our hotel 6 miles away.  Watching my son collect seashells with his two little girls.  Spreading sand on each other.  Walking and wading in the Gulf.  Laughing at him as he caught them jumping into the swimming pool.  Observing his tenderness as he bathed them, combed their hair and tucked them in at night.  Taking the time to play with kittens on the front porch of a fancy restaurant, because his girls thought they were housed in that spot just so they could play with them.  Discussions we had over dinners, lunches, breakfasts.  The two day trip from Oklahoma to Tampa in our van.  The endless moments of coloring with his girls and playing games with them so they wouldn't be bored.

And now, I had a bad day because I want those memories to be reality again.  And it is not possible.  I miss him.  I want to laugh with him again.  I want to talk with him and have him tell me, "It's gonna be okay, momma."  But it's not going to be okay.  It will never be okay again.

Life goes on.  For everyone.  Some folks carry heavy burdens.  Some much heavier than mine.  Grief is a strange thing.  It grabs you when you least expect it.  It strangles you.  It nails your heart to some intangible place you cannot describe.  It can't be shared...no one wants it.  Not even you.  As time passes, things do not get better.  Time does not heal your pain or refill your heart with joy.  In fact time is a thief.  As it passes, it plays tricks with your mind.  You have moments when you almost feel like the person you loved so dearly was your imagination.  Memories become an illusion of sorts.  You simply can't touch them...and they can't touch you.

You view life from an entirely different perspective.  Months fly by and days drag.  You pray and pray and pray.  You focus on that which is good.  The blessings of life.  You cling to every nuance, expression and smile of everyone you love.  You muster every ounce of memory cells within your brain and lock each up as tightly as you can.  And you cry.  You cry.  You cry on the inside while you're laughing on the outside.  You lie.  You say you are fine when you are not fine.  You walk on.  You trust God all the more and yourself less.  People even less than yourself--to them, you should be over this by now.  It's been nearly two years, after all. 

And most times you keep all the pain within your heart concealed from others, because others simply don't want to "go there" with you.  Others are uncomfortable when you hurt.  They somehow feel responsible for not being able to fix things for you.  You think positive when you feel negative.  Pettiness is magnified.  Hatred is abhored.  Mundane matters seem nonessential.  Isolation is preferable to social gatherings.  Pity grabs hold of grief's tail and tugs at your innermost being till you are exhausted from carrying the load.  And finally you sleep.  Deeply.  Without dreams.  And then you wake to a new day.  And you thank God for the Morning Dew which greets you at the rising Sun.  And you pray for a better day to come.  selahV 

BROKEN THINGS

China.  Teeth.  Windows.  Bones.  Promises.  Vows.  Relationships.  Trust.

Throughout my life I've come to know brokenness as a norm.  During my five decades plus, I've learned to deal with that brokenness.  I've learned to rise above it.  I've learned to mend what I could and apologize for what I couldn't.  I've learned to forgive and for the most part, forget.  I've learned to understand, have mercy and move on.  There's only been one area in which I find myself inevitably thrown back into a quandry of emotions.  Broken trust.

How does one know how to trust another? When to trust another?  How does one know whether or not the trust they give is safe in another's hands?  How do we trust another with our joys and pains?  When do we find a person in whom we can trust to receive those thoughts?  I just don't know.  I really don't.

So many times I've had thoughts, feelings, emotions which I kept in a sacred place within me.  I'm usually an open book to folks.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I think I am probably too trusting.  Because time and time again, I open up my heart, I share more than I should, I think the best of people.  I find myself looking for the good in them, and even when I see flaws or find aspects of a persons personality suspect, I keep giving the benefit of the doubt.  I choose to believe.

Here's where I get in trouble.  Often I see their interest in me and concern for me as a safe space for sharing.  I go to the safe within my heart and unlock it and take out those thoughts and entrust them to another's keeping.  I have found a few friends in life I could entrust my innermost secrets and pain.  And it remained as safely held as it did in my private safe.  For them I am grateful.  I believe God brought them into my life in a time of need.  The Lord gave them to me for comfort, consolation, encouragement. 

But having the innate personality trait which seeks to trust, more often than not, my trust is misplaced.  Thus...the brokenness.  The heartache.  The plunge into a world of retreat and isolation.  And back, back, back into the arms of God.  To Whom I know I can trust completely.  Without reserve.  Without fear.

As the deer panteth after water, Lord, my soul longeth after Thee.  You are my Refuge and my Strength, my Stronghold, my Shield.  In You do I place my trust.[copyrighted,2007,selahV]  Link to WHAT MATTERS to SelahV

LET THE LITTLE CHILDREN...

"...COME TO ME."

Jesus, Himself, said it.  "Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Mt.19:14)

Of such is the kingdom of heaven.  A child, willingly, honestly--without fear--comes to Jesus.  A child can see who is good.  They are not accepting of every hand extended to them.  At least not the children I have observed.  My seven grandchildren are foremost in my mind as examples.  Strangers and even people they are familiar with have said, "Come here sweetie," and reached for them--only to watch the head burrow into their mom's shoulder, my neck, their daddy's chest.  Not all children go to just anyone, so why would the Lord say "for of such is the kingdom of heaven"?

I also observe that my grandchildren come to me without a second of hesitation.  My little 2-year-old Haylee runs with abandon to me.  She stretches out of her daddy's and mother's arms in effort to come to me.  When I visit my other two little granddaughters in their schools for lunch, they see me and come running.  They openly hug me...no regard to what others might think.

Then there are my teenage boys.  More reserved.  Hesitate to greet me with the abandon they once did.  BUT, let me come to their home, where peers cannot view their affections for me and they hug me, crawl up on the sofa and lay their heads in my lap and let me scratch their backs.  So what child is Jesus referring to?

It's the child who wants to come to Jesus.  It's the child who has no barriers between his heart to receive Christ's love.  It's the child who wants to obey, not because of fear of the consequence lest he does.  It's the child who seeks to know.  To get closer.  To be as near to Jesus as they can get.  Children see goodness.  They know true love.  They may be fooled by a hand extended with the temptation of candy.  But when the candy is gone, it is the genuine love that holds them in another's arms.

Children want to please.  They want attention.  In Jesus, there is attention; there is love.  Children have this innate ability to believe, to trust, to love.  As we get older, we learn not to trust.  We learn not everything we once believed is true.  We learn love has conditions.  We learn to analyse and are synical--wallowing in suspicion.  The older we get, the more questions we have.  The probability of coming to Jesus lessens.

On Scott McKnight's site, there is a discussion thread regarding whether or how we should teach our children of our faith in Jesus.  It seems an atheist, Richard Dawkins, has written a book and is advocating we let children grow up in a vacumn of thought to discover on their own, faith in anything or anyone.

I would only guess a child of this author is to learn nothing by watching him believe nothing.  Yet Dawkins seems to have alot to say about believing in nothing.  Thus, I suppose like I've proposed before....there is no such thing as nothing.  Nothing consists of something--even if it is nothing worth thinking about.

As for me?  I believe in Jesus.  And I believe children need to know about Jesus before they get to the age when people like Dawkins fill their heads with worthless thought that leads to death and etenal separation from Someone who will love them eternally. [copyrighted,2007,selahV]      

WHEN GOD SPEAKS

How does God speak to you?  Does He use a burning bush?  Can you hear Him call your name as He did Samuel in the night?  Do you have an inner prompting by His Spirit?  Is it through the reading of His Word?  The preaching of His Word?  None of the above?  All of the above?  Or other?

God has used many means to communicate with me.  I rarely have a day pass He doesn't speak to me.  Some days it is for direction.  Some days for encouragement.  He uses my friends, family, nature, His Word and Spirit, and also music.  I heard some people say God's Word is the way He speaks today.  But His Word says the heavens will declare His handiwork.  And in the last days, His Word says we will dream dreams, there will be signs and wonders, and women and children will prophesy. 

Do you have difficulty discerning whether God is directing you?  Do you ever read a scripture passage and believe it to mean one thing, then have someone tell you it means something else?

I've had difficulty my whole life trying to follow God in the way in which I thought He was leading me.  Seems like every time I believe I have a clear voice from Him, roadblocks present themselves.  Sometimes it is someone I count valuable in my life, someone I trust counters the voice or impedes my forward progress.  Sometimes I find myself questioning.  Not God.  But myself.  Did I really hear You correctly, Lord?

That happens quite often when He asks me to wait upon Him.  So many people seem to know what we are good at sometimes.  They know exactly what we should do and how we should do it.  But I'm not other people, I am me.  And when God made me, I believe He had a plan and purpose for me.  And I don't think I have to go running around looking for that plan or purpose.  I think when God wants me to do something, He'll make it perfectly clear to me that it's me He wants to use for a given task.

I don't know why I love writing so much.  I don't think I'm smart.  I don't really know why anyone would think anything I had to say was important.  But I am compelled to write.  And though I have written many many things, I believe I am to write how God deals with me in my life.  In my walk.  In my journey.  And when God speaks, I want to hear.  I do not want my ears clogged with my own desires, my own goals, my own ambitions.  I want to write what He wants me to write.

I am in process of putting together this site.  I have ideas that are bigger than me.  I have hopes I feel have been implanted in my soul.  And I truly believe as I roll my works upon the Lord, He will direct me.  His hand is always extended to me.  Always open.  His voice calls, come, draw near to me and I will draw near to you.  His voice says go.  Go where I lead you, go where I send you.  His voice says wait.  Wait till I renew your strength.  Wait till you see the path at your feet clearly.   Stand.  Stand still and face the enemy.  Walk.  Walk with Me.  And fear not, for I am with you.

When God speaks...can you hear Him?  [copyrighted, selahv, 2007]

IT DOESN'T LOOK PROMISING

An ice-covered bird-feeder.  No seed in sight.  Six-inch icicles point directly downward.  Any hope of nourishment for feathered friends must be found elsewhere.  However, with the icestorm-warnings it's a strong possibility all flights will be canceled.  Wonder if birds know that? 

Sometimes life is so deceiving, don't you think?  If it wasn't for the icicles clinging to this feeder, one might think it was soon to be Spring by the bright green grass covering the ground.  But it's only January 12th.  Winter's barely begun.

In Oklahoma we are fortunate most winters are not severe.  Piercing cold winds are inevitably exchanged for warmer milder bursts of cool air.  I like Oklahoma winters; they're short.  Often we have 70-degree-temperatures come vacation here like tourists visit Disneyland.  It's like warm weather comes up here to get away from California dreamers.   So for the most part, one can book a plane flight and not be concerned about snow and ice causing delays or cancellations.  For the most part. 

Unfortunately when I booked a flight to Tampa last December, how could I have known an Arctic blast would come bursting into our Oklahoma sunshine and thwart plans for a week in Florida?  Suddenly the reality of storm warnings are evident.

Our ice storm has just begun.  We haven't even seen the brunt yet.   I've watched a 2-inch icicle drip and grow into an 8-inch icicle in less than 4 hours.  I've had to retype this blog because the electricity shut off before I'd saved the draft.  I'd just finished telling you how prepared I was for an electrical outage.  Let's see, what had I written?  Oh yeah!

We went to the store last night and stocked up on water, bread, crackers, canned salmon and cream cheese.   I asked my hubby to purchase some more candles and kerosene on his way home from work.  I completed all the laundry and have plenty of warm socks.  So life will be just peachy if we lose our electricity.  Flying to the warmth of southern coastlands looks about as promising as a bluebird feeding at my neglected birdfeeder right now.

That is what I'd written just before the lights went out in Okie.  Amazing, isn't it?  I'd just written that, then bam!  Darkness!

While I was in the dark, I figured I might as well check American Airlines.  Sure enough.  The flight's been cancelled.  And I'm soooo glad.   If it hadn't been, then we would have had to travel for hours on ice-packed highways to the City and most likely sit for hours waiting for them to delay and delay and finally tell us that the flight was cancelled after all.  It's so much nicer this way.

I'm so glad someone has sense enough to get out of the rain.  There is always going to be nuts like me who must take photos of empty feeders to make a point about dismal forecasts and up-ended plans.   And since I have no idea if someone else has stocked their feeders with seed, I guess I better brave the rain a few more times and fill the feeders and bird-bath.  Who knows? There may be a cardinal or sparrow God is depending on me to feed today.  It doesn't look very promising for any of them to find food in any other place right now.  What birds do about food I put out is up to them.  What I do about their plight is up to me.

That's the way it is as a Christian.  We are simply called to be faithful to our task--to do what God has called us to do, and be what He calls us to be.  It's up to me to share what Jesus did, it's not up to my neighbor to put out the seed.  It's up to me.  I've got my flight all booked and I am certain it won't be cancelled for any reason.  It's only fair I share my flight plan with others, don't you think?  For me, it looks very promising indeed. [copyrighted,2007,selahV]

WHEN I SEE CLEARLY

Can you see clearly the little moving target I captured on my camera last weekend?  She was mimicking that footed-furball, Mike on the Barnyard movie.  She and her sister replayed that snippet from the movie dozens of times.  They then danced like little mad-women.  It was hilarious.

It really doesn't matter to me that the photo isn't focused; that the picture isn't clear.  Because it truly captures the essence of all the joy and excitement bundled up in her energetic heart.  Her elder sister was just as exuberant.  I tried to no avail to get them in the same picture but they moved too fast.  It seemed like the faster they danced, the more they laughed.  The more they laughed, the faster they danced.

Life is like that.  It flies by so quickly we hardly can remember what we had for breakfast that morning.  Details become distorted, blurred.  This week has been one of those weeks I'd rather not remember too clearly.  I've had the flu.  It is awful.  I've stayed curled up in a ball in my recliner, popping aspirin, Vitamins and drinking gallons of water.  I couldn't read much.  I'd check emails.   Get dizzy.  Couldn't focus on anyone's blogs.  Didn't feel like writing one myself.  Miserable headache that wouldn't go away.   I kept thinking, okay, tomorrow I'll be better.  NOT.  Didn't happen till today.  Finally, I don't feel like my granddaughter is dancing inside my brain at warp speed.

While I cannot see as well as I'd like today, I know that someday I will see much better than I do right now.  And when I see clearly, I'm gonna dance...as fast as I can.  [copyrighted,selahV,2007]   

THREE A.M.

Does it matter what time it is?  It didn't to me.

I awoke and had no idea what time it was.  Just lay in the dark thinking how refreshed I felt from sleeping.  My dog (the same Kelsie who belongs to my daughter) stirred at my feet.  I lay thinking.  I could see it was still dark outside but thought it must be close to dawn.  I felt at peace.  Rested. 

Then it began.

A myriad of thoughts zipped through my mind.  Pleasant thoughts.  Things I'd said, things I'd done--things others had said and done.  From out of nowhere came accusations.  You didn't mean it the way you said it.  You did that just to make yourself look good.  You don't think she really cares about you, do you?  Remember how she sounded on the phone?  He only did that because he wanted attention.  Do you really think he cares?  My heartbeat picked up speed.

I have no idea how long I actually lay there letting those thoughts have power over my brain.  But at some point I recognized I had a "thief" in the house.  Joyful moments were pulverized with innuendo.  Wonderful conversations--riddled with supspicion.  Whispers.  Worthless.  Hopeless.  Useless.  My rest captured in the dark of the night; my peace snatched from my grasp.

Then I came to myself.  Another whisper, "Jesus."  Again and again his name came into my thoughts; "Let Me in.  Let Me in."  I began to recite, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, sweetest name I know, fills my every longing, keeps me singing as I go."  The melody joined the song of silent praise thundering in my heart.  My mind danced in the calm and balm of the Lord's presence.  And the "thief" was no more.

I rose to let the dog out.  I glanced at the clock.  It was three a.m., and I wanted you to know it matters.  No matter what time it is; it matters that Jesus be on your mind, in your heart and on your lips.  It really matters.  [copyrighted, 2007, selahV]

Add Weight to the Wait

The Lord woke me at 4:22 a.m. today.  Chest pain.  A twisting feeling, like I'd feel when my brothers use to grab my arm with both hands and wring it in different directions.  I wanted to reach inside my chest and hold my heart in my hand.  I wanted to rub away the pain like I do when my muscles are taut and knotted.

I lay in the dark thinking, what is this?  I wasn't majorly concerned.  I've been having lots of problems lately so I figure it's just stress.   I thought of my dad who is now in renal failure due to heart disease, diabetes and other medical problems.  I wondered if Daddy was awake, too.  I prayed for him.

The pain didn't lessen in my chest so I got up and took an aspirin, ate some nuts so I wouldn't have an empty stomach.   I sat back in my recliner and closed my eyes to wait.   To meditate.  "Wait," I thought, "I'll look that up."

I turned the light on and settled in to my chair with Bibles in hand.  Not as many "waits" as I thought there'd be in my concordance, but then it wasn't Strong's exhaustive.  It was enough to find Psalm 33:20.  "Our inner selves wait [earnesty] for the Lord; He is our help and our shield." AMP

Very appropriate for my moment of inner need.  While I knew that the verse meant the innermost portion of our heart and soul, I claimed it for heart, soul, mind and body.  The pain was still there.  It had been more than thirty minutes.  I'm waiting for the Lord.

I read on, "For in Him does our heart rejoice, because we have trusted [relied on and been confident] in His Holy Name." (21.   I will rejoice.  In what?  In Him.  I meditated more and thought of all His blessings and goodness.  His protection over me and my family.  It wouldn't be long till my daddy would rest in His everlasting arms.  No more pain.  In Jesus' name we both trust.  I rely on Him and am confident that His "...mercy and loving kindness" is "upon us in proportion to our waiting and hoping for" Him. (22.

I thought of so many things that I was doing to keep myself healthy.  I thought of my recent decisions to eat better.  Dad has suffered so much in the past few years.  Much of it was due to his abuse of his diet, neglect to his body, and disregard of wise counsel.  I thought of the last time I got to see him.  He had the cutest grin on his face when he asked me to get him something he shouldn't eat.  I thought of my grandchildren and how very much I want to see them grow up.  What else can I do, Lord?

I thought of the warm homemade bread and hot biscuits I loved to eat but limitedly.  I thought of the occasional Kit Kat I grabbed on my way out of the grocery store.  I thought about the infrequent baked potato I smothered in cheese, butter, and sour cream.  I thought about the gooey, yummy dressings I add to my salads.  Moderation.  Hmmmn.  I wonder. 

I realized that all I had to do is fast with ONE single item each month and pray as I fasted that item.  I considered how the absence of the item could be used to recall the presence of the Lord.  I would use that single item to symbolize someone else in prayer.  Bread--Bread of Life for the lost.  Kit Kat chocolate bar--the grocery clerk and carry-out personnel in the store.  The baked potato--a hurting, lonely depressed person who needed to be covered in love and possible friendship.  Dressings--do without and add encouragement to another's life.

I thought of more since then.  But these are a few that have added weight to my wait on the Lord.  As my inner self hurts, I will "wait."  And though I cannot hold my heart in my hands and massage away the cramping from whatever is causing it pain, my Lord and my Redeemer can.    Until then, I wait.  SelahV [copyrighted,2007,selahV]