SelahV Today by hariette petersen

WHAT DO YOU WANT...?

Tonight I babysat my darling little granddaughters so my daughter and her hubby could have a date-night.  Every time little 18-month-old Kinsey wanted a "yummy", she'd grab my finger and pull me to the kitchen to show me exactly what she wanted.  My daughter has a pantry and I'd open it and point to various things.  "What do you want?"  She'd stand there and shake her head till I found the thing she wanted.  She was quite adamant until I held up the right thing.  I do believe she knew every item in that pantry.

I was reading a few days ago of two blind men who were crying out to Jesus in a crowd.  "The crowds reproved them and told them to keep still, but they cried all the more." Mt. 20:31  Jesus stopped and called them, and asked, "What do you want Me to do for you?" (vs.32)

"Lord, we want our eyes to be opened!"  Jesus, in pity, touched their eyes and instantly they received their sight and followed Him." (vs.33,34)

I've pondered that a lot the last few days.  So many times I've come to Jesus with my requests.  Heal me, comfort me, guide me, strengthen me.  And Jesus answers each and every one.  Always.  Today I think of some other things I want from God's pantry.

~~the eyes of the lost to be opened.

~~the hearts of God's people to be broken.

~~the Spirit of the Lord to fill the land.

~~the children of God to love one another without reserve.

~~the Lord to be magnified, glorified and manifested in the lives of His people.

Today, I want a lot.  What do you want?  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

   

WARDING OFF THE ENEMY

I hate mosquitoes.

Those pesky little insects drive me nuts.  I can't go outside on a windless day and not have them dive bombing toward me.  But the ones we have this year are sneaky little twerps.  They appear like freckles--never know when they're gonna show up.  Now.  Next to mosquitoes, I think I hate those products that protect us against those creatures straight from hell almost as much.  They are sticky.  They stink.  And they are poisonous.  Sometimes I think, what is worse the prospect of malaria, West Nile virus, itchy bites or OFF spray residue?

So let me tell about something new.  My friend, Barb, is always sending me these silly emails about everything from banana peels to Listerine.  So the other day I get this email that says to put Listerine in a bottle and spray it around the area and something in the Listerine will keep those mosquitoes at bay.  So when my husband went to the Family Dollar store to pick up some cheap coffee (yeah, I know Pete, cringe), he bought me a bottle of that Listerine.  Yesterday, just before I headed out to lie in my hammock beneath my two pecan trees, I lathered my arms and legs and neck with that Listerine.  (Yes, I will try anything.  ONCE.  Well, almost anything.  I won't bungee jump, cliff dive, or parachute.  I'm a lie in my hammock and meditating kind of person.)

SO....

While I lay in my hammock (which a dear blogging friend bought me when she read that my old one had popped its weaving), not one of those black, lightweight, mosquitoes landed on me.  Not one.  Now, some of you might say that the mosquitoes just weren't out.  But I don't buy that.  I think those bloodsucking evil little vampires came toward my skin and smelled that Listerine and said, "Eee--yugh!  That stuff stinks!"  And they flew away.  I'm gonna try it again today and leave it off one arm...like those commercial people do.  Then I'll know for certain...kinda.  Last year I rubbed myself down with fabric softener sheets and carried one in my pockets and it worked really well.

Supposedly, if you spray your doorposts with the Listerine, it will keep them from coming into your house for two days.  I'm gonna try that too.  Nothing's more annoying that one of those annoying buzzes in your ear just as you're trying to fall asleep.  I'm also going to try spraying around my lawn chair on the patio and see if they stay away.  I'll let ya know how things go.

As I considered this newfound knowledge, I thought about the devotional I wrote today at Daily Impact.  It's amazing how one thing makes you think of another.  We have all kinds of things we use to ward off insects, kill weeds and protect against harm to our physical body and temporal houses.  But what about our spiritual homes?  The greatest weapon in our arsenal is reverential fear of the Lord.  "The Angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him [who revere and worship Him with awe] and each of them He delivers." Ps. 34:7  The enemy lurks around us every day.  He seeks to destroy our joy, and tells lies to confuse our minds and destroy our peace.  But the Word of God, imbedded in our mind and hearts, is our protection against that enemy.

Just like the death angel passed over the homes of the firstborn in Egypt that had the blood of the Lamb on the doorposts, God protects His saints and delivers them.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

BEWARE OF HAVING GRANDDAUGHTERS

I know that when the girls were born, they were the apple of his eye.  I know he's got a humongous softspot for anything they want to do.  But this takes the cake!  When six-year-old Abby and three-year-old HayJae got together last week, their idea of fun was playing beautician with Grampa's hair.  This was the result:

Love.

It's amazing what one will endure to please a child.  He's such a sap for their wiles.  He says he draws the line at nailpolish though.

Later, this is where they ended up:

WHAT MATTERS TO ME

It matters to me that folks are civil.  But even moreso, it matters that I am civil.  It matters to me that when I disagree with another, I do so with civility and without accusations.  It matters to me that when others disagree with me that "as they would that men should do unto them, they do likewise."  Sometimes I fail to live up to what matters to me.  That bothers me far more than anyone who has ever been rude or behaved unbecomingly towards me.

It matters to me that I forgive offenses because I want to be forgiven.

It matters that I encourage others more than discourage.  That I praise more than criticize.  And that I love without reserve.

It matters that I seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and do not focus on temporal pleasures and my own efforts.

It matters to me that I present myself as a living sacrifice to the Lord Jesus Who has given me life eternal.  It matters that my words honor Him.  It matters that my thoughts are pure and that I dwell on that which is positive.

It matters that I worry less and trust more.

It matters that I spend every waking moment knowing God is God and He is in control.  It matters that I rest completely in Him and yield to His Sovereign will for my life.

What matters to you?  selahV

WARNING SIGNS, PREDICTIONS AND PROBABILITIES

Lately I've been having these weird auras in which I see fractured light that prohibits my vision.  It's like a flashbulb has gone off and I can't see for the light.  They only last a little while--fifteen minutes tops.  As well as those little auras, I will be reading my Bible and one line appears to be bold while the line below it will appear as though it is faded.  Don't know why.  Just one of the hazards of getting older, I suppose.  I hate the idea that something serious could be wrong.

"I'll think about it tomorrow" is one of my favorite Scarlet quotes from Gone With The Wind.  I also like Fiddley-dee Dee.  When we face uncertain situations in life, sometimes we get all worked up over them and they are nothing.  Sometimes these are warning signs of something serious.

Meteorologists have this problem.  This year they are predicting a rather busy hurricane season.  However they qualify their predictions with a probability of their reality to be between 65 and 70 percent.  I figure my eye problems have about the same probability of being something worthy of concern.  Anywhere from 15 to 20% chance of being more than eyestrain or old age.  After all...we can all figure things to be about a 50/50 chance.

It seems for every expert who believes one way, another expert believes the opposite--and each can back up their position with evidence to support their view.  That is probably why we have so much debate about global warming. (Can of worms...not going there today.)  It's also why doctors won't diagnose symptoms without a fortune's worth of medical tests and xrays.

When my son was alive, he use to challenge me to think with a cup half full instead of half empty.  Whenever he came up with an idea, I'd give him all the reasons why it may not work--sorta like those spies who were afraid to follow the Lord and possess the land because of the size of the giants.  There are a lot of people like this.  They take a bunch of numbers and see the worse side of their equations.  They look at how things have been and trust they are going to get worse.  They love to predict the worst--just in case things don't pan out for the better.

As a Christian, that kind of thinking overides the need for faith.  Call me naive, but I think most stuff we worry and fret over is ridiculous.  (Not all things, mind you, just most.)  My husband grounds me when it comes to "weather-report" thinking.  He has a perfect solution to determining the weather for tomorrow.  When you get up in the morning, go outside and you will know.

All the planning in the world will not change the course of events sometimes.  All the maneuvering, manipulating and scheming will not thwart the plans and purpose of God, either.  That's why we should base all we do on His Word, because His Word is a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path.  Normally a lamp only sheds enough light to take the next step in the darkness.  And God's light is the only light that can illumine our pathway and dispel the shadows of doubt.

That's about as far as I can see with most stuff in life.  So I expect the vision problems I face today will just have to rest in the hands of God for all my tomorrows.  Who is promised one, anyway?  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]         

FEELING GUILTY

Today I went to Texas to watch my granddaughters perform in their school Jamboree.  I felt guilty because I was able to do this and my son wasn't.  Silly, I know.  But I felt like that all the same.

I had to fill up my gas tank and the gasoline was priced at a whopping 3.79 a gallon.  Another reason to feel guilty.  Driving over an hour to watch two minutes of a singing performance.

I look around at all we have in America:  Freedoms, rights, privileges.  We have so much to be grateful for.  Yet, so many people all around the world have so little.  Burma has a government that doesn't even care that the people in their country are starving and dying.  I feel guilty for complaining about how our government can't control the price of gasoline.

I read blogs and see the division of folks over everything from church attendance to what even constitutes a church.  Yet there are places around the world where folks are dying for the simple fact that they exalt the name of Jesus Who came to die for the establishment of the Church.  Do we not find our arguments lame sometimes?  Should I feel guilty for loving my church family?

I love Sunday School and what I receive from the class, fellowship and edification in Bible Study.  Should I feel guilty?  They've helped me so much the past few years.

I loved being a minister's wife for nearly 24 years and during the time when some folks thought the Bible wasn't all true and much of it was fables, yet I saw folks saved by God's grace.  Life wasn't always easy in the ministry--financially or emotionally.  But I valued that time as a servant of God.  I feel guilty because I am no longer active as a minister's wife.

I haven't written a post on this blog for nearly a week or more.  Lost track when I wrote.  Hundreds have come by and read the same post over and over.  (Or clicked on to another site when they discovered nothing new Today for SelahV.)  And I feel guilty for not writing.

I adore my husband and wish I were a better wife and homemaker.  Various health situations have forced me into semi-retirement as a virtuous woman.  And I feel guilty.

Sometimes I hear about all the woes in the world and I want to cover my head and sleep away the moments.  For at least a day.  I don't want to know how hard life is for anyone anymore.  I don't want to hear people talking about all the problems with the SBC or the environment or the terrorism in the world.  And I feel guilty for that ostrich mentality.

Life is a struggle.  But I love the Lord and the fact that in the midst of the struggle He still sustains me and sends people into my life to encourage me.  I probably shouldn't feel guilty for all these blessings either.  But I do.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008] 

THE MIRACLE OF THE MORNING

This morning I woke up.

Yep.  That's it.  I fell asleep last night without so much as a care on my mind other than, "Will I sleep tonight?"  I didn't give one thought to the fact that I might never wake up.  And yet, by God's manifold grace, I did.  And my very first thoughts?

"Lord, thank you so much for letting me sleep for six straight hours."  Then, I thought again.  And it ocurred to me that the Lord had also allowed me to waken to a brand new day.  A day filled with the promise of His presence.  The joy of His salvation.  The blessings of a loving family.  The warmth of a sheltered home.  The goodness of kind and generous friends.  The ability to see, to smell, touch, hear and understand the majesty of God's creation.  The privilege to talk with Him and the surety of His written Word.

No, nothing has changed since yesterday.  I still have the same sets of trials to endure.  I still have the same weights trying to drag me down.  The prince of this world still lurks in the shadows, waiting the opportune time to pounce.  I still see the world has politics as usual, hate as strong, sin as rampant, and heartache as real.  There is still the aftermath of earthquakes, tornadoes, volcanoes, cyclones, wars and rumors of wars.

But today--today I woke up.  And when I did, I realized it.  Really, really realized how precious it is to be alive and that God chose me to live this day.  Me!  I look forward to what He has in store.  How about you?  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

FAILED TO FOLLOW

The doorbell rang.  My freshly washed hair was wrapped in a large green terry-cloth turban.  My naked face looked haunting (to me anyway).  But I answered the door anyway.  The last time I hesitated answering the door, a bouquet of roses greeted me on the other side.  No such luck this time.  It was a young man about 29.  He stood on the steps just off the porch.  He was dressed in a finely tailored suit with dark blue shirt and red tie (I think).  He was canvassing the area in search of clients for his investment firm.  I almost laughed when he greeted me with his firm handshake.  I had nothing to invest.  But he seemed so nice, I didn't have the heart to tell him.  I accepted his brochure and listened as he explained where his new office was going to be located.  I kept thinking about how awful I looked and how this guy didn't even seem to notice I had a turban on my head.  I answered all his questions--including those about where I was from and how in the world did I get to Oklahoma from Kentucky. 

Turn about was fair play I figured, so I asked where he was from and how long he'd lived in Lawton.  As it turned out, he lived about a mile from me.  Bells went off in my head as I answered him about what my husband did for a living.  "Custodian, part-time.  He's on disability.  Heart attack a year ago today."  (Surely he'll stop talking now and be on his way.)  Nope.  He continued to ask other questions.  I continued to ask some too.  I told him about my church that was just down the street.  I shared how wonderful they had been to us when my husband suffered his heart attack.  That's when I blew it.

I didn't ask him if he went to church anywhere.  My brain was saying, "Ask him...ask him."  But I didn't ask if he'd like to come to church.  I didn't ask if he knew about the "retirement plan" of everlasting life.  I didn't even hand him a tract in return for his fancy brochure.  He asked for my telephone number and I gave it.  He wrote down my address.  He thanked me for taking time to visit with him and went on his way.  I was really mad at myself when he left.  I realized that I was more concerned about the condition of my appearance than this man's spiritual condition.

How many times have I asked the Lord to bring someone in my path that I could share Jesus with?  I don't get out of the house much--mostly to babysit my grandkids and go to Wal-Mart and the gas station.  I don't see many folks.  And here God brought me someone and I let the moment slip on by.  I hadn't planted one seed for which the Lord could water for days ahead.  Nothing would grow from my words. 

Today I received a thank-you card in the mail from that man.  Again he thanked me for allowing him to share about his business and he offered to help me if I needed help with finances.  I smiled but inwardly I felt sad.

"Lord, why did I let that moment pass?  Why didn't I ask him if he'd like to know about You?  What silenced my tongue?"

As I ponder those questions tonight, I still wonder.  What closed my mouth?  It's times like this I wonder about myself and my love for the Lord.  It's times like this I realize how small I am in His kingdom.  It's times like this I understand Peter's denials.  It's times like this I am ashamed of me.  I truly am.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

WHEN DEATH HAS NO STING

A while back I was studying bees.  When bees sting you, they soon die.  The loss of their stinger brings forth death.  Today I discovered this post by Garrett Starr.  I don't know Garrett, but found him through a dear friend's blog.  For my readers who know my story and the stories I've told recently regarding the loss of loved ones, I felt it appropriate to share.  It is the most poignant introspective grace-filled thinking I've come across in the last few years regarding death--and life.  For heartwarming encouragement on a life that has no sting in death, please read Garrett's thoughts and pass them on.  selahV

NO ONE CALLED ME BLESSED

It's funny.  Proverbs says, "Her children rise up and call her blessed;" 31:28a.   No one said that to me today.  And as far as I know, my daughter didn't rise up and tell anyone else either.  But then I wasn't with her the entire day, so she may have told someone.

I'm kidding, of course.  I write this to simply say, that no one has to rise up and call me blessed.  The Amplified Bible elaborates on the word "blessed" as: ("happy, fortunate, and to be envied)".  I am happy to have a beautiful daughter who blessed me with 5 grandchildren.  I am happy to have had a son who blessed me with two granddaughters, too.  I'm fortunate to have been privileged to mother them both.  And I should be envied that they both gave their lives to Jesus.

One thing that Mother's Day brings to my mind supercedes the commercialism of its presence in our lives.  For anyone to celebrate Mother's Day, they have to have had a mother.  None of us were born in test tubes.  I truly wish that I could rise up and call my mother blessed.  But I can 't.  Through the years I've learned to be a mother by watching the best of mothers.  I gained my greatest lessons from watching Christian moms.  By the time I began really being the mother God intended a mother to be, my children were well on their way to forming some pretty solid habits.  All I can say, is I sure wish I'd known then what I know now.

I wish I had the patience then that I have now.  I wish I had the wisdom.  I wish I had the experience and knowledge.  But I didn't, and no amount of wishing can make it any different.  However, I have learned one thing that is vital to all mothers anywhere.  I've learned to tell my daughter that I'm sorry.  I've learned to tell her I don't know everything and even though I have learned a lot of stuff that is very helpful to know, I think she is doing a great job being a mother and doesn't need to know everything I know to be the best mom she can be.

I like being my daughter's mom today better than I liked being my daughter's mom years ago.  The pressure is off.  I don't have to fix her, change her, correct her, discipline her or guard over her.  I get to do the best stuff...encourage her, love her, pray for her and praise her.  And that is the best thing about being a mom today.  For me anyway.  selahV

HEART HUGS OF LOVE

My doorbell rang.  I didn't want to answer it.

I was in the office here, reading without seeing a word--contemplating what I'd write for tomorrow's devotional at dailyIMPACT.  I was thinking about a billion, million things.  I looked like a robin after an early morning soaking in my birdbath.  My hair needed far more than a comb-through.  My nose is red from blowing and wiping.  My eyes are bloodshot and watering to the point of dripping nonstop.  I am drained and felt like left-over mashed potatoes that had been nuked for the fifth time.  But the person at the door was persistent and rang it again.  I went.

On the other side of the beveled glass was a hand holding a pink vase with three red roses.  I opened the door and signed for the flowers.  Of course the most important part of the event was discovering the sender.  My friend, Karen.  Years ago in my first church, she was in my youth group.  She remembered today...May 8th.  Tears flowed slowly down my cheeks and my nose (which had been trying to open up a bit), plugged right back up.  I did not cry from pain or sadness at the words written on the card.  Nor did I cry from the reason she'd sent me the flowers.  Sometimes I cry (and quite often really, I'm a softie), because of the sheer love of God imparted to me through others.  This was one of those times.  It was like God reached inside my swollen heart and hugged it till it felt normal-size again.

Emails have come in today with words of encouragement and prayers of comfort.  A card arrived in the mail today that said, "I don't know what to say," but it said everything.  A stranger commented on my blog with a word of prayer for me.  My husband mopped the floor and cleaned up my kitchen, while I lay sleeping from the sinus medicine I'd taken.  My grandson came by and picked up a softball glove he needed in order to practice church softball today.  It was his first time playing since elementary school--I gave him the choice of all my son's gloves.  It felt so good to see Ryan pop that glove like Chad once did when he played for various leagues.  His hand brought that glove to life again.

Heart-hugs.  Those unexpected things that only God can give through the prompting of His Spirit to His child when nothing in the world matters more than Him and His presence.

They come in ways you'd never dream.  And they feel like nothing you've ever felt when you receive one.  Do you know someone in need of a heart-hug?  God will tell you who they are.  I bet you've had one yourself recently.  You had no way to explain to the person just what they meant to you--that seemingly insignificant gesture that touches, heals and comforts like none other in the world.  I firmly believe I've received a bunch today because of all those of you who have prayed for me.  Thanks so very much.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]      

WHEN TRAGEDY STRIKES

On my very first blogpost as SelahV Today, a lady I've never met commented and encouraged me (I'll call her Iris for the purpose of this post).  She has been one of the greatest sources of comfort to me that I can possibly explain.  In my hours of torment and pain in grieving for my son and the turmoil that filled our lives as a consequence of his loss, Iris has been there.   We have become extremely close friends and have shared multiple prayer requests with one another.  One such request was for a friend of Iris's whose son needed our prayers.  Time and time again I've prayed for that young man (I call him M).  Today I received an email that he is dead.  I know nothing else.  But I do ask that you pray for us as we grieve and go through these next few weeks of tragic loss.  Although I never met M., I loved him in my heart.  And I have grown to love his mom, too.  Pray for my friend Iris as she ministers to his family and his mother.

This is extremely hard for Iris and this dear mother.  For me, I am caught in a spiral of emotion I cannot name.  Today, my heart is wrenched in a million pieces once again.  It was three years ago tomorrow that I received the same news about my son, Chad.  Dead.  I cannot begin to tell you how agonizing the pain is and this has resurrected much for me.  But my heart hurts most for my friend Iris's friend who has now lost her only son.  There are no words of comfort...only prayers for grace and peace.  Only God's grace is sufficient to meet the needs of this hour.  Only God's grace.  selahV 

IS JESUS JUST YOUR MASCOT?

I don't know how many of you read FishForMen by Chris Gilliam.  I try to stop by often.  Recently he posted an article by his wife, Alicia, entitled "Church Maintenance".  I think it's worth reading.  Visit her [HERE].

WHAT I HEARD AT CHURCH YESTERDAY

Some things just shouldn't be repeated.  But then, other things should.  In an environment of declining membership in churches and conversations filled with dissension and negativity, I offer something different:

IN THE HALLS on my way to Sunday School:  "How are you?" was a common greeting.  But folks also stopped and really listened to the other's reply.  "Did you know Kelly was in a head-on collision?  Everyone is fine.  Praise the Lord."

~~"Are you staying for the Senior's appreciation dinner?" (heard again and again during the open assembly in the department)

~~"What a great sermon!"  (heard when someone entered the Sunday School department.)

~~"Wasn't the mother-daughter luncheon wonderful yesterday?  I just loved Beverly's chalk-talk.  I need to go tell her how much I enjoyed it."

~~"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus...there's just something about that name." (heard wafting from a bathroom stall).

~~"Hey, come with us to the Senior's appreciation dinner." (heard in the hallways after the second worship service.)

PRAYER REQUESTS:  "A friend's lost sister tried to commit suicide.  Pray that she comes to Jesus."  ~~"A fellow I work with lost a two-month old daughter to SIDS this week.  She was under the care of a babysitter."  ~~"Paul and Glenda's seventeen-year-old granddaughter has melanoma cancer--third time recurrence."  ~~"My brother has an aggressive form of prostate cancer--pray he comes back to the Lord."  ~~"My husband has to have stints put in."  ~~"Kim's dad is out of ICU, she just lost her husband not long ago...she's a very young widow, pray for her in this difficulty."  (heard in open assembly in Sunday School)

DURING SUNDAY SCHOOL our lesson was on Appreciation.  As we studied the scriptures (led by none other than my wonderful husband), many folks shared how various people made an impact on their lives:

"My grandmother was a "hard-shell Baptist"; I never had one prayer said in my home by my parents, but my grandmother prayed for me and gave me my first Bible.  She was a constant influence in my life."

"I was raised Catholic.  I had a hard time coming to this church.  My kids begged me and I'm here today because of them and Harry Morgan who was my first Sunday School teacher."

"If it hadn't been for this church, and the love from this department, I have no idea how I would have made it through this year and my heart attack and financial problems.  Did ya'll know you bought me a lawn-mower with an electric starter?"

"My grandmother repeatedly told me throughout my life that God was in control, and I've come to really see that.  She never talked negatively--always had a positive word of faith for me."

"When we first came to this church, we'd left one where we'd been terribly hurt.  You all ministered to our family's needs, especially Gene and Freddie."

"My grandchildren only get to come here once a month and it is the only church experience they have.  They love it and look forward to church more than they do going to the movies.  It says alot for the church fellowship and love here."

ANNOUNCEMENTS:  "We got the roof put on Locust Grove church.  God blessed us with plenty of men to do the job."

"We need a group of men to help with repairs for a sister church here in town.  If anyone wants to volunteer, we will be working on it May 17th."  (Later, Laverne told me they put a steeple up on that church for them not long ago.  They were so excited.)  So was I.

"I'm going to be walking for Walk-For-Life if anyone wants to contribute, I'm passing the sign-up sheet around.  If anyone wants to walk, then here are some extra sheets."

WHAT I DIDN'T HEAR AT CHURCH:

Criticizing.  Condemning.  OR Complaining.

WHAT I SAW AT CHURCH:  Two more children baptized.  Five families come forward to join our fellowship.  One adult and one teenager for baptism.  Hundreds of people greeting them AND one another after the service.

AND THAT'S JUST THE MORNING GATHERING!  That night we had the youth choir lead us in worship.  One gal had 6 years of perfect attendance in choir.  Another girl had 14 years perfect attendance (and she's going on mission to Russia this summer).  What an amazing day in the Lord!  I wish I could have told you everything I saw and heard.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008] 

BANDAIDS DON'T FIX EVERYTHING

  April 28th~~ Three-year-old HayJae heard the conversations about Rowdy's paralyzed leg.  Her elder teenage brothers thought it was ridiculous to simply "kill a dog" because he had a bad leg.  Her mother tried to explain that Rowdy's size may be a real problem for his well-being if he were to only have three legs.  So when HayJae came to visit, and her Grampa and I were talking about Rowdy, she voiced her opinion.

"I don't want Rowdy to go to heaven."

"Well, neither do I, sweety.  But it may have to be that way if the doctor says so."  She didn't like my response.  I explained the doctor might be able to just take Rowdy's leg off.

"But Rowdy needs his leg, Grama!  Tell the doctor to put a bandaid on his foot."

"Sometimes bandaids don't fix everything, baby."

Bandaids don't fix a lot of things.  When the cut is too deep, it may require stitches and bandages.  When the injury is greater than stitches can patch, it may require extensive surgery.  Such is the case with Rowdy.  The complications most animals face with an amputation is the pain.  In Rowdy's situation, there will be no pain.  Rowdy's nerves are dead.  However, with his 96-pound physique, I worried about the weight distribution he'd battle by losing his front leg.  Would it do damage to the remainder of his body?  Would he suffer needless back pain?  Will his life's quality be greatly diminished?  This is a gigantic muscular mass of strength encasing the bouyant personality of a puppy.   

Rowdy's paralyzed limb does nothing but flip and flop and weigh his progress down.  So much attention must be paid to it, because it is most likely to be injured.  And it was.  The continual flailing to and fro dislocated the second joint in his leg and caused it to begin swelling.

~~~~May 1st~~I took Rowdy to the vet today to face his extensive surgery.  It remains to be seen whether his body is too big to support his weight as days go by.  What will his overall health be as a result of amputation?  Time will tell. 

~~~~May 3rd~~Rowdy is home now.  His surgery went well.  It's so sad to see his once virile body that carried him with ease to every corner of my daughter's acreage and beyond now making his way across my 10-foot patio with trembling effort.  I wonder if I did the right thing with Ole Rowdy.  He cooes a kind of throaty noise when I come near him and wags his bobbed tail.  He loves it when I rub his ears.  He's on a bunch of meds for ten days.  I suppose after that, I'll be better able to assess the overall affect my decision has had on him.

As I consider Rowdy's plight, I am reminded of the difficulty we face as Christians when our lives are weighed down with trials and adversity.  Sometimes we think all we need to do is eliminate that which we face.  Sometimes we think if God would just remove that thorn from our lives we would be better off.  And we pray to that end.  We seek solutions beyond our control and think they are the best solutions.  Ever notice that when the problems are all removed, we find we have difficulty standing as we once did?   Life is a learning process. 

"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of grace [Who imparts all blessing and favor], Who has called you to His [own] eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will Himself complete and make you what you ought to be, establish and ground you securely, and strengthen, and settle you." 1 Peter 5:10 Amplified. 

Ah, the God of grace of God!  Much better than a bandaid. selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

URGENT CALL TO PRAYER...REQUEST FROM A 12 YEAR-OLD

[5/2/08 UPDATE:  Cole was sick to his stomach today and he has shooting pain in his abdomen.  He really appreciates the comments on his blog and is much encouraged by them.  He will see the doctor on May 8th and they will tell him whether he will need a liver transplant or not at that time.]

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I came to know this young man, Cole, through his grandfather's blog.  He's in 7th grade and loves Jesus.  His faith is evident in all he writes on his blog.  He recently had his gall-bladder removed and is having extremely difficult problems with his liver.  He needs our prayers.  The doctors do not know what his problem is and he has asked that we pray for him.  Please visit his blog and read his story.  Then pray.  Be sure to SCROLL down and read his posts to get to know him.  There is a wonderful photograph of him.  He's is such a handsome young fella.  selahV

A WALK OUT BACK, A VISIT WITH GRACE

I took a walk out back today.  I had no idea my rose bush was absolutely ladened with blossoms.  But there it was in all its 6-foot coral glory.  Dozens of buds, and flowers were fully and partially blooming.  Some were marred with little brown dots, but nevertheless, the fragrance wafted gently in the air.

My health has prevented the clearing of weeds from its base.  In fact, right next to it, is my peace rose and it has one lone bloom on it.  It is scraggly and the petals are all uneven.  Morning Glories twist and weave their choking vines throughout its stems.  But my coral-climber (as I call it) is simply a work of God's good pleasure.  Amazing to consider is that this very bush is one I purchased at the end-of-season sale at Atwoods when it was half-dead.  Its leaves were all brown and the lone bud upon it was shriveled and limp.  Nevertheless, I purchased it for a bargain price of 2-bucks and brought it home to nurse back to health.

It's amazing to me what God can do when my neglect bids justice rather than mercy.  Equally amazing is the grace He bestows upon me when my inability and handicaps rise above my intent and motivation.

As Christians we come to Christ with nothing to offer but sin and failure--much like the rose bush at Atwoods.  And even when God performs His perfect regenerating pleasure within us, and places us in His kingdom's garden, we bloom with petals of flawed lives.  It could be the untended base, the unfertilized thirsty ground that causes the flaws.  But as we grow, and we seek others to help us tend our garden, perhaps the better of the blooms will appear before the end of summer.  I know I'm going to do my best to help my bush return to all its fullness--even if I have to enlist my husband's help.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]