SelahV Today by hariette petersen

Conditional Relationships

You know what I mean.

It's the relationship based on you agreeing with everything, approving everything, and being submissive to another's opinion.  It's the relationship that demands you be the one to understand and accept, tolerate and basically always be the giver-- or exhibits the give-in personality.  You are only the receiver when the "other" is feeling generous...is in the mood,

is happy, is content, is feeling positive about life.

Otherwise...

you receive the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, the short snippy remarks, the ire, the annoyance, the accusations, and judgment.

I confess.  I'm one of those non-conflict personalities.  Don't like it.  Saw enough of conflict, and the destruction that resulted from it in my lifetime, to know when to back off, retreat and wall myself up.

At this stage in my life, I have no desire to battle with people.  That is, people I think are friends.  I don't know what is going on inside them or around them.. and they do not know what is going on inside me and around me.

When stressed, tired, or emotionally spent with one situation, there is little left in me to deal with other stressed, tired and emotionally spent people.  Couple that with physical pain and disease and even less of me is able to cope.  Few are the people who truly care to understand or desire to take time to understand.  People are busy.  People face constant conflict of their own.  Every single day.  Soo...

"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood." ~~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Funny how much I agree with this statement.  Yet, often I find the only way to remain in a relationship with someone is to relinquish my desire to be understood.  When someone gets testy with me, I tend to crawl back into my protective shell and exercise as much tolerance as the Spirit of God will usher into my soul.  Whenever I try to explain myself, I find it only worsens a communication breach.  Sometimes the storms of conditional relationships are best waged from within a bunker of safety.

Maybe I need an attitude adjustment.  Maybe I need to seek different kinds of relationships.  I don't know.  I've always believed I need to exercise as much generosity, gentleness, kindness and patience as possible when dealing with others.

It's hard.

It's not easy being on the receiving end of anyone's impatience, annoyance or disdain.  I suppose it's worse being on the receiving end of apathy and indifference.  Especially with someone you care about.

I'm learning to let go and let others be whatever way they choose.  It's their choice to battle life as they think appropriate for their needs; it's none of my business. For me to survive what is going on around me, in my world, I must let go of the things over which I have no control in the lives of others.

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing...not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares."  ~~Henri Nouwen

I have some friends like this. I've enjoyed relationships through the years which benefited me in this way.  I like to think it is because I have been that kind of friend...or tried to be.  Yet...

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.  It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.  We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."  ~~Albert Schweitzer

I am.  I am very thankful for those God brings my way to rekindle the fire within me when the world has beaten me down.  ...when troubles have tossed me about like a conch shell in the middle of the ocean.  ...when I cling for all I'm worth to the shell in which I hover for protection against those who create the waves of discontent and contempt.  For those I am deeply grateful. It's like they find me on the shore of life and pick me up and listen to the whispers of my soul that no one else has cared to notice.  Do you have someone like that?  The unconditional kind of friend?  Be grateful.

[republished and edited from 2013]

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Living with Chronic Pain, How to Help when You Cannot Change a Thing

I've been dealing with Chronic Pain for several years. It's annoying. It's sometimes excruciating. It interferes with every single thing I do:

Sleeping, sitting, walking

standing, bending, turning around,

showering, getting dressed or styling my hair,

reading a book, cooking, gardening, crafting, and more--much more.

Of late, it interferes the most with my writing. There's no energy left in me after battling to get out of bed, fix a bowl of cereal and take my medicines and supplements. As time has passed, I've learned my limitations. I've accepted them. Others have a harder time accepting them--or understanding them.

It began with what some would call "normal" aches. It's complicated. The article below explains it as perfectly as I can imagine trying to describe. I find it difficult to read one sentence and not be able to relate to it. If you know someone or love someone who suffers from chronic pain... please read the link below. Share it with others. It helps to know people understand-- even though they cannot physically help or change a thing. selahV

Open Letter from a Person with Chronic Pain.

 

When Friends Are Not Friends

...you'll recognize the signs.

• They're more combative than friendly.
• They're antagonistic with most any subject you discuss.
• They do not affirm you in any way shape of form.  Criticism abounds but validation is non-existent or extremely limited and forced.
• They ignore every good or positive thing you have ever said, written, or done.
• They refuse to have a conversation with you; instead they point out what they do not like about you-- real or imagined.
• They accuse.  They dredge up situations which you had no idea existed, then plant seeds of doubt in your mind about your own actions and attitudes.  However, without recollection and specifics-- there's no way to reconcile the situation and restore the relationship.
• They discourage rather than encourage.
• You cannot confide in them and feel safe that your confidence is well-placed.
• You discover they talk negatively about you behind your back.
• They really do not seek you out to hear how you are or what is going on in your life unless it specifically affects them in some way.

These are enough signs to help anyone verify the validity of friendship.  You may have others.  The question that comes to my mind (more than any other when I see these signs rear their ugly heads), is what do I do about it?  do I continue to try and build on what I thought was a friendship and ignore slights and insults, or do I cut my losses and move on?

Well, call me a glutton for punishment-- but I tend to give the benefit of the doubt until I have exhausted all effort on my part to make it work.  I pray about it...basically I'm trying to live at peace, as much as I am able, with everyone.  When peace eludes me-- when things stay the same or get worse, I kick the dust from my feet and move on.  Once I move on, I don't look back.  I keep my eyes focused on a higher calling to befriend others.  There are so many people in life who are hungry for friendship-- people who welcome efforts of caring, concern, conversation, and comraderie.  These are the people I want around me.  Others are drags on life.  I want folks who will stir up in me the desire to do good, to be better, and to make life better for others.  The opposite pulls me down and drains me of all energy and leaves me exhausted. 

Friends energize us. They fuel us and add to our lives in a positive way.  They are trustworthy and loyal.  May we each be the best of this to others.

When Your Friend Is Troubled

WHAT DO YOU DO?

It's so hard to know what to do sometimes.  It's hard to know if you are a help or a hindrance.  We like to think we will drop everything and do what is necessary to help them.  But we sometimes are selfish and think about our day, our plans, our time.

We are asked to pray and we fall asleep while praying.  Or we say yes and then put the request on the back burner of our minds while we prioritize our lives.  If "a friend loveth at all times", would a friend let another simmer on the back burner in a stew of distress, heartache, sorrow or need as we bake a cake for our own pleasure?  I don't think so.

The past few weeks the Lord has allowed me to be a part of someone's life who just needed me "there".  I've done whatever it took to be "there" while sitting behind this monitor [as that was all I could possibly do].  At times it was enough.  Other times it seemed so little... not enough.  I am grateful for the time the LORD has given me to listen, to speak a word of encouragement.  I have learned alot about faith in these days.  Only God can right some wrongs.  Only God can fix the unfixable.  We humans are limited by geography, circumstance, means and health.  That is just the fact of the matter.

So, dear friends, and readers whom I hope become friends, I'm of the opinion that when a friend is troubled, we must be all we can be in the moment, with as many resources as we have at hand. We do not have another moment.  We only have the one we are in.  And in that particular moment, I think we must not waver in sharing truth, being honest, fulfilling promises, and sustaining loyalty.  I think we must, at all costs, reserve judgment, avoid criticism, and refrain from impulsive bloviating.  I think we need to listen, and listen carefully to what is, and what is not being said.  We need to pray for discernment of God's will in our friend's life and our own.  We must realize that at any given point in our lives we could very well be that troubled friend in need.  How do we want to be treated?  My friend's greatest compliment came in the form of a scripture verse:

"I rejoice that I have complete confidence in you." 2 Cor. 7:16

I so pray I can live up to that confidence and be all God wants me to be for a troubled friend.  However, we have to recognize and accept that we too are human.  We have limitations.  We cannot be what we cannot be.  We can only be what God calls us to be.  And sometimes our presence is merely a vapor in the wind, a flower that blooms and quickly fades away.  We cannot beat up on ourselves if we cannot be the "everything" needed by a troubled friend. Nor can we beat up on a friend for not being our "everything" in our hour or day of need.  It works both ways.

Sunday Afternoon, Kindle Fire, Facebook, and Friends

Dinner has been consumed.  The dishes are clean and put away.  My granddaughters are laughing and squealing as they hide their colored eggs, over and over again outside.  Oklahoma skies are filled with grey un-threatening clouds.  The sun has taken a vacation day. It's a sleepy afternoon.

Hubby is sitting here reading his new birthday-Kindle Fire... well, not really.  He's trying to figure out how to get on Facebook and read my wonderful blogs....hee hee.  I think his interest was piqued since he discovered someone deleted one of my, uh-hmmmn, brilliant, yet, not so politically correct comments on a blog a week or so back.  Hubs has kinda sat in the shadows of my internet connections and watched me flit from place to place talking about all the people I meet on the world-wide-web.

I think until, a fellow blogger from Fort Worth, Texas stumbled into our church sanctuary today and wanted to see me, my hubby thought all this bloggin' stuff was a figment of my virtual imagination.  Now, he sees that people are real, and, that some real men still wear ties and suits on Easter morning!!  Hey, hey, hey!  I must say I was quite honored to have Ron Phillips, Sr. drop in on our church service to meet me while in town visiting his family.  Quite honored.  We took a photo for posterity.  I hope Ron doesn't get a bad reputation, hangin' out with the likes of me.  We talked about a bunch of things, and touched on, my deleted comment.  I had to laugh.  Much ado about so little.  BUT...

Now, hubby wants to know: "So what does it mean if someone deletes your comment?"  Guess I'll have to educate him on the finer points of SBC bloggin' and the dangers of talking to just anyone who wants to call you "friend" on facebook.  Scary world we live in, ya know?

Anyway, it is Sunday afternoon.  Nascar has no races.  So what else can hubby and I do but read books and play with our gadgets (we don't want to find colored eggs).  I'm having fun watching my Bob trying to figure out how some of this internet stuff works. 

He keeps trying to log on to a Facebook account I set up for him a long long time ago.  It wouldn't let him get on.  One time he can get on the web without problems, the next, they are giving him flack...ha ha.  Now, he's just pecking around, trying to find his way around our virtual world.  He's been searching for answers (he's not one to give up easily).  He keeps getting a message that tells him they've lost him.  I'm so glad God never loses sight of him....nor me.

Even though I may follow all the wrong links at times (or get dumped off a few others), God keeps me linked to Him.  I may click all the wrong buttons one day, and say stuff He would rather I didn't, I may forget all the rules and throw caution to the wind at times, and find myself disconnected from my internet server.  But, God stays connected to me...and I to Him...always.  We may forget my husband's password to connect to Facebook, but it doesn't mean we can't connect to our Lord.  We'll figure out a way to make a new password for him on Facebook.  But we always have our password saved to reach God.  His name is Jesus.  What a glorious Easter afternoon it is.  Amen?  selahV

Some Folks...Can't Be Friends

Some folks are friends, some are not.  Some are better friends than others.  Some folks are better off not pretending to be friends.  Friendship is so much more than facebooking, texting, and internet socialization.  I have some true true friends in life and I cannot begin to thank God enough for them.  They are the kind who will drop everything for you when you need them.  They'll sacrifice their time, and put their lives on hold, just to fly across the country and help you when you lose a loved one.  Friends who live near you will meet you for lunch a couple of times a week to listen to you share the grief in your heart--the questions in your mind.  They'll pray with you and for you.

You probably have friends like this, too.

Some friends truly care what we think about various things in life, and how we are when they ask.  I realize life has a way of revolving around our own thoughts and personal struggles, needs, joy and pain.  I try very hard to be that kind of friend for others.  I really want to be for them what they need.  I want to be this for them because I have so much myself.  God has truly blessed me.

I have one friend on the internet, whose blog I always read.  Even though I do not always understand where he is going with his posts, I do know from whence he came.  I know how much he cares about life and his relationship with our Lord. I know he endeavors to follow Him with every thing he does.  It's a blessing each time I pick up the phone and talk to him.  Or get an email from him wherein we banter about goofy stuff, or opine about serious stuff.  We do not talk every day.  We talk a few times a year.  But when we talk, it's like we were when we shared many a cup of coffee and bowl of popcorn over thirty years ago. True friendship never dies, even when geography separates and time prohibits interaction.

I have other friends who take time to be with me in a one-on-one visit and that is also a major blessing.  Of late, those times have been very few and far between.  Lousy health has kept me from socializing much.  I think I'm getting out of sync with the world.  I occasionally wonder if I've lost the ability to connect.

Ever have one of those odd conversations wherein you answer the proverbial "How-was-your-day?" question with a lot of stuff and someone picks out the most mundane thing of what you say and ignores all the rest?  Here's an exaggerated example: "How are you today?"

"Well, today has been rather tumultuous...I found out I had cancer, my dog died, I painted a picture for my living-room wall, and always chew gum when I paint.  I wish I had some chewing gum, forgot to buy some."

The friend writes back, "I bought five packs of gum when I went shopping today, I like Dentyne."

And that is the jist of the conversation.  It's weird.  You close your eyes and think..."gum?"...that's what they picked up in the reply to talk about?  Hmmmn.

What does one do when a person seems that disinterested in a conversation they begin?  Are we so consumed with ourself, that we fail to focus on the thoughts and the needs of others?  Or is it us at all?  Could we be too sensitive?  touchy to a fault?

It begs an answer, though...

When folks ask how we are, do they really want to know?  Does anyone actually want to know how we are?  I understand the insincerity of that question in the passing one another in the check-out line.  The clerk really doesn't want to know how I am.  And they do not really care whether I "found everything I was looking for" that day when I shopped.  It's just a question they are trained to ask.  I wonder if we've so conditioned ourselves in the way things are in the world that we only care when it is convenient to care.  When our minds are free of our own concerns.

Lord, I pray I am able to be more like Jesus.  To see through the chatter of a woman at the well--or laundry mat.  To feel the touch of needy fingers at the hem of my robe--or elbow, when they seek a moment of recognition.  To notice a person above me in the trees, while others clamor for my attention.  I want to see like Jesus.  I want Him to help me see, feel, touch and know...so none go through life as lonely as I once did.  How about you? selahV

Mother's Day In Review

For many, yesterday was a day of remembering Moms.  In fact, on Facebook (the world-wide social network site), I saw precious tributes.  One gal even asked everyone to change their profile picture and replace it with one of their mothers til Monday.  I thought that was sweet.  I didn't do that.  I have no idea where any pictures are of my mothers.

My biological mom is barely a memory...she abandoned us when I was just three, the three or four times I saw her afterwards leave fanciful feathers fluttering in my mind.

Step-mother #1 stirs memories of sadness as a whole--although, one cannot toss aside the years in which she washed my clothes and cooked meals.  I have to give her credit where credit is due.  Most of what she was in my life was not her fault.  Albeit hard to suffer the anguish of abuse, mentally ill people need our forgiveness, especially when they let you pull taffy on a cold winter night.

Step#2 didn't really consider me much more than my father's daughter. She and her children got some of the better parts of my dad's time, money and affection.  Enough said.

Step#3 was a gem.  I do call her blessed for giving my father the best 4 years of his heartbreaking 82 years of life.  When I watch others share how much they miss their mothers, the heartbreak they have without them, I often think I may be more blessed for never having known the joy of moms. In a sense I have been spared that kind of pain.  Admittedly, it makes it harder to empathize with another's burden...that makes it easier for me to understand how folks feel who cannot fathom my loss of a son...two babies.

Given the post I shared on Mother's Day, and due to the prayers so many offered on my behalf, I thought I'd take a few moments to tell you how things went for me yesterday (and also share some family photos).  Before I do that I want to acknowledge the gorgeous flowers you see pictured above.  My son's dear childhood friend (and a former youth I taught in the first pastorate we were blessed to serve), sent them to me.  She's been rather faithful to me as a friend and sister-in-Christ since Chad's death.

[Karen Pollock contributes to Devotional Christian now and she wrote one of the sweetest tributes to my son (HERE).  But make sure you subscribe to Devotional Christian while you're there so you don't miss any of her moving devotionals.]

So...the flowers come in the middle of the night, at about 8:15 on Saturday night.  Such a gift I stumble to explain.  You see, Karen doesn't know this, but one of the hardest times I have through the Mother's Day extravaganza is May 7th...the night before Mother's Day.  That was the night six years ago I last spoke to my son--last heard his voice.  As usual, he had a story to tell, and part of it was his joy in going to see the Texas Rangers play ball in Dallas.  That evening at around 10:15 was the last time I heard his sweet words, of good-bye and "I love you, momma."  So often at that hour of each Saturday before Mother's Day, my heart fills with a bitter-sweetness of gratitude and regret.  Gratitude that God gave me that last "I-love-you, Momma" --- Regret that we hung up before I said I love you too, my precious son.  It's hard to forgive myself for that lapse in motherhood.

So, Karen...you are, my friend, another portion of Chad's never-ending story of a life. The love he shared with you nearly 30 years ago in friendship, blossomed into a basket of roses and daisies for me on a day only Chad, and I, and God would know is a day I find especially difficult.  Your flowers blessed me more than you'll ever know.  It was like a gift from heaven above.  I can almost hear my son say, "forgetta bout it, Momma; just stop and smell the roses today."

Secondly, my friends and new readers, that is just one facet of what I call God's divine interventions in life...a comforting Balm through a love cultivated years ago in a little country Kentucky church.  Corrie ten Boom was right when she wrote, "Every experience God gives you, every person He puts in your life, is the perfect preparation for the future, that only He can see." 

Thirdly, My daughter did what she does naturally for her--she loves through acts of service.  She prepared a brisket dinner for me and her own family.  Every single Sunday (for the most part) she makes Sunday dinner.  I couldn't help but think of how much I appreciate her gift of love.  A menial task, some might say.  But special because I have her in my life to share my heart, to embattle, to love, to plan stuff, to undergird and etcetera, etcetera.  Some folks wonder why I don't write much about my daughter.  I realize that it a curious thing considering the attention I give to the relationship I had with my son.  I'm simply following orders.  You see, as precious as my daughter is, and as much as I would love to give you all the nitty-gritty details of her life and her older children, Holly is a private kind of gal.  She makes me keep my thoughts closer to my chest, my fingers holstered, and for the most part, pictures stored in scrapbooks. 

To say she doesn't like to call attention to herself rather belies the kook she is at ladies' retreats. But she doesn't like to announce to the world all the things she does as she serves the Lord.  She doesn't tweet, friend, or blog.  This world is rather foreign to her.  It's doubtful she even reads a single thing I write--go figure.  But she owns a humongous portion of my heart, always has, always will.  I'd die for her.  She could have both kidneys and my liver.  I know she loves me...and while she's never stood up in the city gates and called me blessed, I know.  I know she cares.  I know because no matter how heated we may get over trivialities of life, she and I are on the phone talking and sharing by 10:00 a.m. the next day.  It's just the way we are.  It's not how we've always been.  And most of that is my fault.  I have learned a lot about motherhood from my daughter.  I think most mommas do.

Lastly...yesterday...Mother's Day was one of the most peacefilled, comforting, blissful, and God-infused days I've had in a long long time.  Here is just a sampling of things that held my attention.  Most of it is pictures.  I hope you have as much fun looking at them as I had cropping and adding captions today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Click to enlarge me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
So among others, these were some of the sweet memories the Lord brought my way because of you, my friends who prayed for me.

Life is not always a happy time.  It's not always perfect.  It has moments, though -- snapshots in the course of living which we need to be vigilant not to miss.  Moments flash before our eyes, and can be blurred before our cameras grab the perfect shot.  Often in our desire to have the perfect day, we waste time trying to catch the perfect smile, the perfect pose.  Then we miss the seconds of love and lose a memory we could capture and lock inside our hearts forever.  Enjoy today.  Enjoy tomorrow.  Be like my son...stop and smell the roses.  Smell them today.  selahV   

Close Encounters (Continued)

Pity parties are odd things.  I often throw mine and realize I have not one soul I can invite.  Who'd want to join me in feeling sorry for myself after all?  I don't even want to talk to me.

Enter the blogosphere...Facebook, Twitter.  There's always someone somewhere to join in commiserating with me.  That can be a dangerous thing for some folk, but I've been blessed by some of those folks who encourage with scripture without beating my head in with Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of verses from their 7-pound Family Bible.  I'm humbled that a person takes the time to care for someone they've never been physically close enough to to even so much as nod at a four-way stopsign.

It seems odd, to say the least, that we find ourselves spilling our guts to people we've never had the privilege of seeing face to face. It's quite baffling when one finds more understanding, and encouragement via internet access than from a person they've shared years of details in an up-close-and-personal relationship.

How can this happen?  Is it true we can't see the forest for the trees?

I never know quite how long to hold a pity party. Occasionally, for me, holding one is what makes life most bearable to deal with an arthritic infested spine, a painful vertebrae, the dreaded day others find joy in remembering Mothers, and the petty disappointments of daily living.  Until the last guest leaves (uh, that be me), I tend to wallow in this time and write.  I write.  I gripe, complain, whine, and consider the bunk stored in an unguarded heart which always seems to surface in my mind when I am at my lowest point emotionally and physically.

Yet, when the tears dry upon my cheeks, and the pity party begins to lose its charm, I rediscover an age-old truth.  By some extraordinary twist of providence, only God can make a difference in disappointments.  Only He is wise enough to give us the exact person we need at that particular time in our lives to deliver His word of comfort.  Only He can fuse the broken spirit, and turn the life-wheels to form a pot worth having from the dust and water of a corrupted earth.

Only through writing, praying, and weighing my thoughts, do I find any purpose for the chaotic friction, fissures, and misunderstandings...if there be any purpose under the sun.  There is a time for everything--a time to live, to die, to dance, to not dance, to weep, to laugh.  Today is my time to mourn life in general.  It's my way of running like Forrest, biking, painting, doing yardwork and purging the closets of my soul.  Since today gave way to self-indulgence, perhaps tomorrow will bring the joy.  If not, there is always the next day--and the next.  For without Hope, without expectation of God's intervention, would there be any sense at all in this world?  I think not. 

There's therapeutic deliverance in thinking, in writing, in praying through discouragement.  God changes me and things seem to change around me.  It's not that I can change the circumstance or fix the situation.  No, there is no fixing what is.  Only living with it as is, and accepting "such is life".  C'est la vie.

It's hard to admit, since I haven't really ended my pity party, but I am quite grateful for the close encounters He brings my way when I least expect it.  I really am.  They often show me a side of myself I cannot see for the trees.  Their pain puts me in my place.  Their struggles help me see my own in perspective.  Their love makes me want to love the ones I'm with a bit more, a bit stronger--with greater tolerance and patience and understanding.

 

How about you?  Has God brought about good from what others intended, or unintentionally intended, as evil?  Have you had "close encounters" from a long distance? selahV

Close Encounters Part 1

Who really understands you?  Do you have someone who gets you?  When was the last time you connected, truly connected with someone close to you? or for that matter, anyone?  Have you ever had an encounter with someone who totally understood why you feel the way you do?  Why you are disappointed over what some may find trivial?  A close encounter is one in which a person not only understands how you feel, but why.  They see beyond the actual circumstance for your pain, the origin for your hurting, and they care...simply care that you hurt.

Right about now, most men might say, "Huh? What are you talking about, lady?"  Most men I've encountered seem to keep disappointment all bottled up inside, have heart attacks and ulcers, or explode with anger and walk away when obstacles and aggravations come their way.  They rarely open up and let the world see that vulnerable side of themselves.  To be fair, many women are just as guarded, perhaps for different reasons.  For men, I think it is one of pride and ego.  They have this thing about letting anyone be privy to weakness, or inability to solve a problem...after all, they are men.

Women, on the other hand, unless they dared place themselves in a world of competition with men, are more likely to admit a personal fault, a fear, an irritation, a complaint, a disappointment.  We're more likely to guard ourselves from sharing the depths of our hearts because we've been burned, or betrayed, or encountered disloyal people with whom we share our innermost thoughts.  Some of us don't like to admit our spiritual failings, where we are not showing perfect trust and faith in God.  We also know we have a reputation for murmurring, complaining, whining and nagging.  So a lot of times we stuff our feelings, too.

However, I think we, being women, as a whole, still find that release valve within our souls incapable of holding forever the hurt we experience.  Like I mentioned in my last post, sometimes it only takes one thing--the expensive brisket no one shows up to eat, the wrong kind of hinges to be placed on a door, the tiny details of one's life no one seems to notice or care about--to become the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back of emotions.  And then, well, the dam breaks and we cry.  Those closest to us are sometimes shocked.  It's so out of character for us.  Others think it typical--nothing seems to make us happy after all (even though many things make us happy), but you won't change their minds, they think they know you.

When that camel is broken...when the bubbles burst, and daydreams are crushed by evening darkness, we find ourselves seeking solace in the oddest places.  While some turn to yardwork, to scrubbing walls, to purging closets, to riding bikes, to running like Forrest Gump, others turn to painting landscapes, to making jewelry, to playing trumpets.  Some lie in bed, dig into a half-gallon of Rocky Road ice cream, but, me?  I tend to throw a pity party.  The problem with that is, many of the closest people in my life aren't all that excited about joining me.

Fortunately, I have some friends who "get" me.  God brings these friends into my life in the strangest ways.  selahV (to be continued HERE/link )

When I Need A Cup of Grace

I sit across from a dear friend.  Fresh-brewed tea fills the air with a sweet fragrance of peaches and honey.  We sip.  We share.  We hear the other's words.  We reveal discouragements, annoyances, irritations, and joys.  We trust one another to keep those things in an invisible safe space to which only we hold the key.

Would others understand if they heard us talking?  Would they understand that what we say in that tiny space of time is not the whole of either of us?  Do we understand that?  Yes, we do.

The blessing in friendship is that we love each other without conditions.  Friendship is like the tea in our cups.  One is the water, the other the tea, fused together by the warmth within our hearts and the Savior we both know. Time and love creates a savory relationship we enjoy when we are together, or apart.  Whether we hear from one another every day, once a month, or a year.  When we return to share a cup of tea, our hearts find our bond was never separated.  How could we separate steeped tea from water, anyway? 

Despite the voyeuristic Reality television shows, few of us want the world to know each thought we have, or each action we take in the privacy of our homes and relationships.  That is why trust is such an unbelieveable gift to another.  When we give a piece of ourselves to another, it is in their possession.  We trust them with who we are and all our warts and weaknesses.  When we are taught to distrust, it is hard to show another the completeness of who we are.  When we have been betrayed at some point in our lives, it is difficult to give ourselves to another's keeping.

What if they do to us what others have done?  What if they never cared for us in the first place?  What if they have their own motives for wanting to get to know us?  Do we dare let down our guard?

What we know about another, from another, is not as telling as what we know firsthand, up close and personal.  If we have not had the occasion and opportunity to get to know another, we cannot truly know them. Unfortunately, this occurs quite often when a young couple gets engaged.  Or when a boss chooses a new employee.  Or when two people meet via internet conversations.

It's hard to know the depths of another or what makes them tick, don't you think?  It's like the tea-time we share. When we drink a cup of tea, we only see one side of the cup when we reach for it and turn it up to drink from its well.  There is always another side we cannot see.  Unless we turn the cup around and look at it from another's view, we cannot begin to know they see and how they see it.  Even then, we only get a glimpse, a shadow.  But at least we are looking at the same cup from the other's perspective and view for awhile.

If all we do is look at the cup from our own viewpoint, it's safe to say we'll never understand the other.  It takes time for each to become familiar with the whole cup, the intricate designs, the simplicity of the other, the fingerprints, the contents.  And just when you think you have the other figured out, the Lord reveals another part of them or you.

It takes effort to discover what we each are truly like.  It takes patience.  It takes acceptance and compromise.  And sometimes...well, sometimes, we find we're simply not the other's cup of tea.  We could drink all the tea in China with one another and never be able to communicate.  It's need we need to drink from the cup of Grace for one another and accept  that it may be best to switch to coffee. (to be continued with..."What Others Expect From Us")  selahV

                                WHO DO YOU TRUST?

HER FIRST CHRISTMAS

From Iraq to America...life is different.  Language.  Street signs.  Clothing.  Stores.  Food. Customs.  Holidays.  Faith.  Almost everything is different.  But some things are the same.

Needs.  Emotions.  Desires.

Within the soul of every person lies a need: to eat, to sleep, to drink, to love, to hope...to be free.  And to have a friend who cares.

Ever have someone answer the door with an expression abandoned to sheer delight?  That is what it is like to go knock on my friend, Linda's door.  I cannot tell you how humbling that is.  To know someone you've known for so short awhile is so happy to see you....to have them get excited for the next visit...to drink in your words even though it is a struggle to understand them all.  No expectations for you to perform--just glad to have your company.

This is her first Christmas.  I am excited.  We begin with the Gingerbread House making fellowship at church on Friday night.  I have another friend who will help Linda with her house as I work with my granddaughters on theirs.

Ours is the fifth one since their daddy died.  It's tradition....it's joy that sticks with you the whole year.  Try it, you'll like it.

Need help?  Check out THIS /LINK and you'll see how easy it is to build one with graham crackers and a bit of candy.

As Americans we take so much for granted.  Freedom to celebrate our Savior's birth.  Freedom to make Gingerbread Houses in our churches without fear of a bomb being dropped on our heads.  Freedom...in Christ.  Makes you want to praise the Lord, huh?  selahV 

Please pray for Peter Lumpkins and family

Peter lost his brother yesterday.  Please remember him and his family in prayer.  selahV

This Little Heart of Mine

Early last December I purchased the heart in this picture as a gift for a friend.  It just seemed appropriate at the moment.  One of those "she would like this" moments.  Then I got it home.  I wondered.  What in the world would she want with this?  It was cute, sure.  It had roses on it and I know she likes roses.  But she's not one to collect a bunch of fru-fru things to hang around her house and collect dust.  Or was she?  Hmmmmn.  I tried to remember. I recalled conversations we had recently about all the junk she and I wanted to get rid of in our homes.  This particular heart might not be considered junk.  I think it would make a pretty neat paperweight.  But wait.  My friend doesn't work in an office; she's a homemaker like me.  Oh, fiddle.  Why did I buy that silly decoupaged piece of heart-shaped stone?  I placed it on my counter.  It sat there for weeks....uh, months.  Every time I looked at it I would think of my friend.  And I'd giggle to myself.  What a goof-ball I am.  So impulsive.

One particular day, Haylee Jae was visiting, and she saw the heart on the counter.  She picked it up and asked, "Grama, what is this?"

"It's a heart."

"Whose heart is it?"  Just like a 5 year-old.  Laying claim right away.

"Why, it's mine."

"But what is it for?"

"Uh, to look at.  I bought it for my friend.  Don't you think it is pretty?"

"Unh huh.  It's heavy.  I like the roses on it."  End of conversation.  It continued to sit on my kitchen counter.

I purchased that silly heart in a moment of giddy delight.  I pushed the heart aside and let all the ooey gooey feelings I had, rest upon my counter.  Days went by and I nudged that little heart around on the counter when it needed cleaning.  As mundane activities demanded attention, I ignored that little heart.  I set it atop some bills I didn't want to go flying off the counter.  It got buried beneath another stack of coupons I would get to sometime.  It definitely fit the category of needless items hanging around the house that my friend and I were trying to get rid of.  I got tired of shoving it around when trying to clear the counter of the dishes, so I placed it on my wooden barrel in the living room.  There!  It looked at home on my make-shift country side table. 

Then came February.  The Valentine month!  I thought, I know.  I will put it with my grouping of red candles and it will look pretty as a centerpiece on my dining room table.  Haylee came to visit again and saw it amongst the candles.  She picked it up, and said, "Grama, when are you going to send your heart to your friend?" 

That's when it hit me.  That silly heart I'd purchased was symbolic of the love I have for my friend.  When I saw it in the store it grabbed my heart and I thought what a nice gift this would make.  Instead of acting upon my impulse and sharing my thoughts with my friend about the heart, I kept it to myself.  I ignored the warm feelings it brought to me.  I pushed it aside and went on about business as usual.  Isn't that how we do one another at times?  We have a great moment happen in our life and need to share it and when we do, the person ignores the joy in our voice?  We have great intentions and then shelve them because we rationalize them out of motion?  That's me.  The great procrastinator.

After Haylee left that day, I placed the heart in a box I was preparing to send my friend.  Last week, along with the various items I'd been collecting, I sent my heart to her.  At times my heart may seem as heavy and cold as this rose-covered stone.  It happens to all of us.  It's only when we share our hearts with another and the hearts are received with love, that hearts become lighter and warmth is restored.  Perhaps my friend will feel all the giddiness I feel in our relationship with this little heart of mine.  selahV

IMPRINTS OF LOVE ON MY MIND

An imprint.  A sign, an indelible mark of something impressed upon another thing.  Imprints tell us lots of things.  Here we have a shovel left on the ground from where I'd dug up some iris bulbs for a friend I have.  I thought she could probably get them put in her flower bed early enough to bloom for Spring.  I hope so.  The shovel reminded me that I had put the bulbs in my car and they needed to go in a box and to the post office so they'd make it to her in time for Valentine's Day.  She got them yesterday.  How exciting to know they arrived in time.  Now, next Spring and for years to come, those irises will bloom, and multiply and remind her of the love I have for her. Love does the unexpected.

I know she didn't expect them.

Love sees Spring in the dead of Winter.  Love remembers good things another does.  So many things this friend has done for me.  She's often sent me little gifts in the mail and kept on giving when I, in my neglect, procrastinated and did not send what the Lord had laid on my heart to send her.  But I remember all those things she's done for me, even though I fail to follow through on my intentions.  Love keeps count of all the kindness and generosity it receives.

Sometimes folks say things they wish they had kept to themselves.  Sometimes they leave imprints in another's heart with impressions they wish they could erase, or recall.  Sometimes those impressions must be dug up, unearthed, and replaced with new soil, new seeds of love.  And when a person is blessed with love, they know love forgets when it is wronged.  Love is conscious of another's desires and delights in meeting those desires and sacrifices its own.

Last October my grandsons came over to clean up our back yard and haul stuff to the dump.    They grabbed old buckets, a broken wheelbarrow, and wicker baskets that had long over-stayed their welcome. My overly eager grandsons just wanted to get the job done. They latched onto the lattice pictured in this photo.  I was sick with the flu-bug, and didn't feel like directing the dismantling of my country-dressed yard.  They saw no purpose for various metal posts sticking in the ground that once supported my heavy sunflowers and 8-foot foxglove plants.  Every item they saw was junk.  Only I had personal attachments to various trellis-work and wrought iron I strategically placed in my flowerbeds.  I rescued my bedframes, then gave up.  I was too weak and feverish to stand guard over all the items I wanted to keep.  It didn't matter.  I knew my husband would rather it "be-gone", anyway.

Three days later I made my way out to the yard to survey the uprooted pieces that survived Fall clean-up.  There sat my lattice.  I wanted to lean it up against my litte metal shed and let vines grow over it this summer so it will make a tent of shade for my granddaughters to use as a play house retreat.  When I snapped the picture in the snow, that lattice reminded me once again of the love imprinted upon my husband's heart for me and my quirks.  He knew my desires; he sacrificed his own desire to have a pristine yard, free of mowing encumberments, and my decorating madness.  Why?  To delight me.  And he succeeded.  Love comes in many forms, is spoken in many languages.  We just need to know how to decipher the signs, and interpret the language.  When we look for the best in others, we will find imprints of love no matter the season.    selahV

WHY I LOVE THAT PETER LUMPKINS

Sometimes he is the most ornery person one could ever meet.  But his ornery-ness is what makes him unwavering in his faith.  His allegiance to Christ, his absolute diligence in seeking to divide the Word of God stem from this undeniably bullheaded belief that God is God and no one or nothing else can light a fire worth stoking but God.  His loyalty to those whom God has bestowed upon him as family and friends is unequaled in my mind.  But then, I'm biased.  He's my friend and I am his.

In years past, Peter challenged every word and sentence and opinion I ever had (and still does). He doggedly provoked me to think beyond my safe zone of boxed and canned impressions of God, of culture, of church and traditions.  His love for the Word of God, his life of prayer and teaching have given me much to remember and stirred me to seek a deeper walk with our Lord.  I am forever grateful for his ornery ways then and also today. 

How can one describe such a man?  Well, some might describe him as arrogant.  He'd readily admit that his writing style can come across tinged with more picturesque pleasure to himself than some of his more judgmental critics.  However, one thing that sets Peter apart from many people who seek to make a point, is he doesn't get flustered with any opposition to his words, logic, or reasoning.  In my nearly 30 years of knowing the guy and his loving, patient and generous wife, I've only seen him livid once.  His sense of humor is generously flavored with mind-boggling idioms of which few can conjure up on their best day of musing.

Today I am prompted to write this little synopsis of Peter because he has just posted what I believe is one of the clearest peeks into his heart of anything he has written or vlogged about since he began blogging.  Evidently he has decided to go back into his archives of early sermons and give us a taste of how God pushed him and pleasured him to break the Bread of Life to his former congregations.  I cherry-picked a few words from his introduction to his series:

"...making the Bible relevant is like making water wet."

"...the biblical expositor is obsessed...with then and there."

"...the Holy Spirit is about annointing His story, not yours."

Part 1 of Faith on It's Feet in James will, no doubt, be a blessing to read.  I hope you follow Peter's upcoming posts and look forward to them as much as I will.  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]      

TIMELESS TREASURE

  Some things never grow old.  Some things are appreciated far more today than yesterday.  To me, a letter or card in my mailbox is a treasure that spans the space of time.

I think one of the dearest blessings we have to offer others is a note written, sealed, stamped and sent to let them know we are thinking of them.  An envelope in our mailbox.  Such is one of my greatest pleasures.  To think that someone would take the time to purchase a card especially for me.  That they'd take the time to find my address and write it on an envelope and spend the 42-cents to mail it?  In a time when moments are stolen, and time is the highest commodity we own and horde?

Technology today~~text messaging, emails, e-cards, phone calls~~all but makes a postage stamp obsolete.  I think of all the mailboxes which open every day, the people who open them.  I think of the urge I have when the mailman delivers our mail.  I must go look.  Every now and then, nestled inside the cluster of bills, advertisements and credit-card offers, I find a treasure.  A note from a friend.  Unexpected joy stirs within me.  Anticipation makes me smile.  Sometimes I let the unopened envelope sit till I get a cup of coffee and sit down.  I like to savor the moment.  After all, my friend took the time to send me a letter or card.  How wonderful is that!

I received two such cards this week~~one with a love-gift supporting my writing ministry.  It was so funny.  I opened the card and it repeatedly said, Hi! Hello! Hi, Hi, Hi! Hello!  I needed that laugh.  Another card of encouragement came and even shared a prayer request.  How neat it that?  Each of those cards brought back memories of other cards, at other times---happy events, difficulties, and sorrow.  And my heart was filled with the comfort of the Lord.

Today would be a good day to send someone you know a card.  Just because.  You don't need a special occasion to receive it or send it...because a letter in the mailbox is a timeless treasure and an all-occasion kind of thing.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

 

EVERYBODY NEEDS ONE

We need a friend who'll go the extra mile for us.  We need someone who'll extend themselves beyond what is asked or expected.  We need someone who is willing to take a chance to bring us a spray of beauty to brighten our day.  We need someone who doesn't mind going out on a limb with everything to lose and nothing to gain.

Perhaps today, that someone, that friend, should be me.  selahV

BIG MOUTH, WORMS AND ME

Sometimes I'm this big-mouthed fish.  I see the worm.  I bite.  I do this without thinking.  I trust the thing before me to be what it appears.  I trust the words of others all too often to find I shouldn't have.  I'm just too gullible at times.

Other times I'm the helpless worm.  I've been skewered onto a sharp hook to be the bait for another's delight.  This is an unsuspecting, helpless kind of feeling.  Used.

I feel like this occurred recently with me.  I bit on the opportunity to help someone only to find that the someone was simply baiting me for another.  Sad.  Really sad.

The glory in it all is not that I was used or gullible.  The glory is that God can take me as I am---whether I am used in life by others or skewered and left dangling like a helpless worm.  If I've got the right intentions, the right motives in my heart, it doesn't matter if I'm a dumb fish or a helpless worm.  I know one thing.  I'd rather be the fish or the worm than the hook.  It's sharp.  It hurts.  It hides itself inside another's life and uses that other till death is sure.  The hook serves only to harm and send either the fish or the worm--and often both--to its quick demise.  I don't want to be like that.  Never ever, ever. 

Sincerely yours,

selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]

   

DON'T TAKE OFFENSE, NOW...

But some of us are a bit touchy.  We are so easily offended by others that folks have to walk on eggshells around us.  Then there are those we know who are so touchy we have to walk on eggshells around them.  Ask any daughter-in-law how she feels when her husband's mother comes to visit.  Ask any mother-in-law how she feels when she goes home.

In a world of political correctness that has taken things from the word articulate (which I'd consider a compliment if someone said I was articulate) to Christmas, it's hard not to offend someone somewhere with something we say or do.  Ask the media, they'll tell you.

There are battles to wage, to be sure.  There are issues to raise, to be sure.  But there are some things to be ignored too.  There are times we must give one another the benefit of the doubt and think the best of them before talking about the worst of them.

And the same is true when we consider taking on another's banner of persecution or offense.  For a great post on this, go (HERE) and read an excellent article by Chris Gilliam.  It's not for the weak of heart.  Nor is it to be glanced over.  It is a piece worth thinking about.  selahV

DON'T FORGET:

A Call to prayer for CB Scott and his family tomorrow at 5:00 a.m. if at all possible.  If not anytime from now on through Wednesday.  See HERE for particulars.

And DailyIMPACT for my daily devotional thoughts.  See HERE.

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]