SelahV Today by hariette petersen

What's In A Name?

Apparently, far more than I imagined.

When I first began blogging in 2006, I had no clue why I would blog.  I had a friend who set up a blog for me and told me to "write".  In fact, he told me repeatedly to "write".  At the time, nearly a year had passed since I'd lost my 33 year-old son in a tragic 4-Wheeler accident on Mother's Day of 2005.  My brain was mush.  I felt like a puddle on the floor.  Reason and purpose seemed frozen in time.  Desperately I clung to temporal things to ground me between earth and heaven.  I grasped for memories of my son's presence.  I searched Scripture for answers.  I buried my sorrow in the pages of Job and sought comfort in Psalms.  And I wrote. 

And wrote. 

And read.

I gave my mind to debates I saw bandied about in the blogosphere: Calvinism, Arminianism-- predestination, tulips, regeneration, faith and all things related.  I met some marvelous folks from all sides of the spectrum.  By some twist of God's divine plan, I gained a bit of recognition from various folks in the blogging world-- attention filled with approval as well as disapproval.

It was okay.

It was instantaneous diversions from the heartache and depression I fought every day.  I made some friends. Friends who remain to this day. Friends (other than a couple) I've yet to see in real-life touchy-feely time.  These friends prayed me through one crisis after another.  They helped financially to keep me on the internet, friends-- virtual strangers-- who provided computers.  Friends who asked that I join their collaborative blogs-- which came and went through the years-- as most things do. It's been a great ride.  From SBC-Impact (now defunct), to SBC-Voices (which dropped all aggregate links), to Devotional Christian (which also faded away), and even a couple of appearances on SBC-Today (in its infancy)--and since revitalized for greater impact.  I wrote a few book reviews for Hannibal Publishing and wrote a few guest-devotionals for SBC-Tomorrow.  I had blogposts from here at SelahV Today and SBC-Encounters reblogged and emphasized.  I went from 1 hit a day to 50,000 hits in one day. Yeah... fifty thousand. But that was no achievement.

It had little to do with my voice-- my words-- my thoughts.  It was merely because Hobby Lobby was going to court to protect their religious freedom.  And several folks wanted to know what was going on.  A couple of folks denounced the whole idea.  Others (many others) tried to hack my site with pornography links in response.  Such is the reality of posting anything in support of other Christians who seek to keep their religious rights as guaranteed by the United States Constitution.  Go figure.  The very thing oppositional voices are allowed to do-- visit and freely promote their smutty sites-- they are intolerant of when others promote traditional values.  Values, by the way, that support the economic strength of our country. 

So, here I am.  Nearly 3,000 posts later.  My name, once googled and found in multiple sites, finds itself on the lower end of the spectrum of voices to read. Partly because I stopped writing daily-- partly because the aggregator that carried my link dropped all links to their blog. Sad, when you think my link and others helped build it. Ah...cest' la vie; that's life.  I joined Facebook and Twitter and linked my blogs to it.  I still get traffic-- but nothing like it use to be.

I know if I wrote provocative posts like Ann Coulter, or controversial subjects in the SBC world countering famous folks, that my "name" recognition would grow. I might even be able to add advertisers to my site and build upon it--especially if I did crafty posts with crafty things and featured cute kids doing those crafty things (which happens to be what's trending hot on my blog right now-- an old post). But... that's not what I want.  Not even close.

Right now I'm praying about SelahV Today, and Hariette Petersen-- and where I fit into this world of public value.  I still write my little weekly newspaper column, Common Matters, for our county paper. I've no clue what subscribers to that paper think of me-- or if they even read my column. I suppose there's some draw or the editor wouldn't give me so much space each week.  However...

I am at a crossroad-- an intersection with blogging.  I don't want to be part of the political landscape in religion.  I've all but stopped writing on my blog regarding my affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention.  The "voices" who supposedly represent me, do not speak for me anymore.  So, I've separated myself from the heart of what it once was and from blogs that once carried my voice.

Physical liabilities limit my involvement in many things.  But I know, I'm more than my liabilities-- my inadequacies, my failures-- and even my achievements.  I am more. I'm more than a Twitter identity. I'm more than a Facebook status.  I'm more than an email recipient-- or even my online profile.  I'm more.

I am significant.  In Christ-- in His body. 

Now, I'm trying to figure out-- after 65 years of life, eight years of blogging and nearly 32 years of publishing my words-- just where I fit into His plan and purpose for the remainder of my days.  I truly believe there's more to me than I know or can possibly conceive.  And so are you.

"A good name is to be chosen over great wealth;
favor is better than silver and gold." Proverbs 22:1

We have more to offer than what government says.  We are more valuable than the receipt of a wealthier person's leavings and crumbs.  We are.  We're more than one vote in one election or another.  I'm more than the mother of an adult daughter and a dead son.  I'm more than some church's former minister's wife.  I am a child of the Most High God.  And today-- that is enough.  selahVToday by hariette petersen

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A SIMPLE GOSPEL: "The Light is where Jesus Is"

I was just about ready to get up and go next door to check on the girls because their mommy had just left to run some errands when Kinsey popped through my door and asked if she could call her mommy.  She'd found a brand new paint brush and wanted to use it.  "What are you going to paint?"  She hesitated. 

"I don't know."  I could tell the paint brush was one of the cheap craft-brushes so I was sure my daughter wouldn't mind if Kinsey used it.  However, the question racing around in my mind was what did she plan on painting. Visions of her doll house, and walls streaked through my mind.  I said, "But, Kinsey, I need to know what you are going to paint before I call your mommy."  Kinsey looked frustrated and shrugged her shoulders, her eyes went back and forth like she was searching her mind for an answer.  

"Haylee's painting," she reasoned.  Uh oh.  I thought they were in their rooms playing with Barbies.  Definitely time to go next door and check out the action.  I should have known they were too quiet. 

"What is Haylee painting?"

"I don't know." My heart skipped a beat.

"Where is Haylee painting?"

"In the office."  When we got to Mommy's office, my heart settled down.  Haylee was painting gold hearts on paper.  Whew...was I happy.  Haylee showed me where they'd found the paint brushes and sure enough they were craft-brushes.  They both asked if we'd call Mommy to see if it was okay to use the paint brush.  I knew it was okay, but to relieve their minds, we called.  Mommy said it was fine as long as they were in play clothes, "they know what not to wear".  Haylee (who'd already been painting and dripped a few drops on their school desk), immediately started taking off her top.  Kinsey stripped off her sweat pants.  Now we're getting somewhere.  I then suggested we go next door to my kitchen table.  They were all for that.  I got out some paper for painting acrylics.  I pulled their hair back in ponytails, pinned back their bangs and got Haylee a paint shirt to wear (yes, I keep paint-shirts for such occasions).  I poured various colored paints into an empty plastic egg carton and they began to paint.  I went back to my writing.

"Haylee, my cross is ugly."

"No, it's not.  It's the best cross I ever saw."

Thirty minutes later they brought their masterpieces to me to view.

I affirmed and extolled their work.  I told Haylee what a nice job she did.  I didn't mention it, but she'd obviously learned from the last lesson I gave her on filling in all the white space on the paper. She even made the grass two shades and made the blades growing up instead of across the page.  She put her sun behind the cross.  I was impressed. Then Kinsey shared hers with me.  She hadn't filled in the sky, nor had she remembered about the way the grass grew...but I didn't say a word.  It seemed she had a bigger picture in mind as she interpreted the details of her painting:

"I put the light behind the cross.  'Cuz Jesus came alive after He was on it. And the Light is where Jesus is."

Simple truth.  Simple Gospel.  Don't you think?  selahV

"Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

FREE to Choose

He escaped again.  For some reason, of late, Snappy the Red-eared Slider was no longer happy in his aquarium on my granddaughter's dresser.  He wasn't satisfied with greeting their fingers as soon as they came near his glass case.  It was so cute to watch him tread water and open his mouth the moment he saw their fingers with dried food squiggles.

Snappy began his life with Abby and Brooklyn, when they were just three and seven and he was little more than the size of a quarter.  (A story I've shared before.)

Snappy was instrumental in adding to my older granddaughter, Brooklyn's faith when she was just 7.  She and Abby were playing with him one day.  As children are common to do, they got distracted by something else, and forgot about leaving Snappy on her bed.  When they remembered, he'd simply disappeared.  They searched and searched for him.  Brooklyn was devastated.  She was certain their dog, Allie, had found him and eaten or killed him.  She was so worried she called me.  I assured her that her chihuahua had not eaten Snappy and said I'd pray about it. Within a few minutes, she called back and told me her mother had found Snappy beneath the bed in the corner of the wall.  Immediately she announced that she knew it was God, because she had just prayed that they'd find him and her mother came out and announced she had.

FAST-FORWARD Seven Years:

Snappy recently became rather testy about his environment.  He wasn't happy to stay in the plastic rectangle tub my granddaughter, Abby, had placed him in to await daily visits and water-changes and feedings.  He wanted more.  He wanted to explore the carpet. She'd taken him out of his larger aquarium because it was getting dirty too quickly and very difficult to keep clean.  Snappy had grown closer to the size of an I-Hop pancake and his water got dirty much faster than when he was tiny.  Again and again he'd escape and Abby would find him trying to climb her bookshelves.  Did he want to read?

About two months ago, Abby called and asked me if I thought they should let him go free into the turtle-friend pond near her home or if I wanted him.  I thought seriously about it.  I did want to keep him...but, I asked which she thought would be better for Snappy.  She chose freedom.  Thus a couple of weeks ago--when I arrived to pick-up Abby for a weekend visit--she wanted to know if we could take him to the turtle-pond that very day.  It was a beautiful day in Texas.  I took my camera and we fed Snappy some food. We placed the large plastic rectangle bin into an empty Huggies diaper box to avoid the slosh of water onto my car's carpet.

Emotions warred within me, as Abby battled her own when we got to the park.  I was tickled that Abby and Brooklyn saw the wisdom in letting Snappy go to live free in their town's public pond.  Yet sadness and sentimentality claimed a portion of my heart as she held his tub and stared at him.  After all we'd shared life with Snappy for a very long time.  During those nearly 7 years, the girls had diligently cared for him and watched him grow--just as I had watched them grow.  We researched red-earred sliders at one point and discovered he could live for 50 years, or more.  Because we found him in my daughter's swimming pool, hardly two months after their daddy had died, I think we all kinda connected the two events.

We did exactly what my son would have done, had he been alive when they found him squirming to get out of the pool's filter-drain.  We rescued him and vowed to protect him from the world.

At this phase of Snappy's life, I imagine Chad would have built a tiled pond in their back yard, so Snappy could grow happily.  He would have gone turtle hunting and brought Snappy some friends.  Alas, he wasn't here to build the tile-pond--or to find him friends.  So, we did the next best thing.  I really didn't want Abby to know the melancholy feelings surging within me as we went through motions of Snappy's release.  I made it a great event.  We chatted about how wonderful a life he'd now have with his new-found freedom.  She told me how clean the pond was because the park-attendants came and cleaned it near the fountain in the center of the pond all the time.  She got excited thinking about Snappy meeting other turtles, but wondered if they'd be friendly or mean.  I assured her that they would be happy to welcome him into their world.  Who wouldn't love Snappy?  I told her he'd meet a lady turtle and probably have baby turtles.  She'd return to the park some day and see Snappy again with his happy family.

My assurance carried a double meaning for my sweet granddaughter.  You see, she is moving soon.  Away from the home she's known since she lost her daddy.  She'll have to make new friends in a new school.  She wonders how they will treat her, too.  I am sure all these thoughts were rolling around through her mind, and heart, as she prepared to release her green friend into a strange new world.

Abby gave Snappy his last meal at the park.  He ate it all before she showed him his new domain.  She placed him on the ground near the edge of the pond and he sat there a moment, then took off faster than lightning into the water.  He moved so quickly my camera seized and I missed the shot of him scooting into the pond.  At first he popped his head up from beneath the water's surface as if to say thankyou and good-bye.  I barely blinked before he dove and submerged himself in the mucky water below.  I took some pictures of where he burrowed, barely visible, into the pond's muck.  His color matched that of the muddy bottom.  Abby dumped some turtle food on the ground near his entry point, and we took a few more photos.  As we walked away, the ducks came up and began eating Snappy's food.  Abby protested.  I assured her that God gave Snappy special instincts to know how to get food from the muck in his world. "He'll provide him food and friends and a happy time."

Abby chattered on and on about this and that while we drove the hour from Texas back to Oklahoma for the weekend.  I couldn't help but smile and think how my son was in his new Heavenly home.  I felt he was probably cheering us on as Snappy raced into the water and Abby learned a lesson in love.  If you love someone, you want the best for them--even when our choices are hard for us to bear.  Just as we were free to keep or release Snappy, God gave us the freedom to hold onto him and keep him all to ourselves, or let him go to live in a world where he'd be happier and free to be all he was purposed to be.  I think we chose the right path, don't you?  selahV  [Click on photos to enlarge.]

drum roll, please... My EARTH DAY Contribution...

In honor of Earth Day my granddaughters and I recycled clothespins into caterpillars, un-used coffee filters into wings.  The glory of new life came to marker-colored filters being spritzed with water.  As water touched their coloring, glorious fusions of brilliance appeared.  Just as they struggled to make their crafts, I told them how butterflies struggle to get out of their cocoons.  So they have freedom to fly.

I taught my granddaughters about new life in Christ by way of creepy caterpillars turning into beautiful delicate butterflies.  Girls hate caterpillars...creepy creatures.  Girls love butterflies.  Fascinating creatures.

Ironically, in the center of this filter, Kinsey drew a heart (Haylee's is upside down below); and that heart ends up being the very center of the butterfly we create.  Ya gotta love how God brings all things together for His purpose and plans, sometimes.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." 2 Corinthians 5:17 NKJV

When we place our faith in Christ, we become new.  We get new life.  We are born again.  We died to the old life and rise to walk in the newness of our life in Jesus.  selahV

To see HOW we gave these filters NEW LIFE visit my

KIDS' MATTERS BLOGSITE.

YES...that means you need to click on the link and go see how cute these little gals are as they diligently create their butterflies and give them new life.  There's more to the next post than meets the eye.  So...c'mon over and check it out.  Try it!  You'll like it!

IS IT REALLY A WASTE OF TIME?

Sometimes I wonder where in the world did 62 years go?

After today, I know what happens with about 4 hours.

It's making sure a hubby (if you are a woman), take his medicine before he leaves the house.

It's babysitting grandchildren and teaching them befriending an Iraqi family is more than a ministry--it's love.

It's visiting McDonald's, filling cups, finding straws, and handing out five Happy-Meals while simultaneously opening toys and distributing little ketchup cups.  It's insisting kids eat their chicken nuggets before they get a chocolate chip cookie, or go to the play area.

It's putting on shoes and taking off shoes and putting on shoes, at least 6 times in the course of events.  Two hours after ignoring whines, but paying special attention to boo-boos and blisters, we hit the Public Library to help an immigrant apply for a library card. 

It's keeping two four-year-olds, and one six-year-old occupied while my Arabic-speaking friend tries to find a book (out of a gazillian), to practice reading English.

It's guiding (uh, manipulating), children to choose appropriate books for their reading levels.  It's reading a book about Rotten Ralph's rotten behavior (three times), while overseeing two kids playing the Arthur game on the library's computer.

Sixty books and two more hours later, we're checking out 8 books and filling out library forms.  I'm trying to get out of the building before one of the three kids gets knocked over while playing tag on the playroom area rug.  When Abodda starts crying, I am praying a prayer of thanksgiving that (before the day began), my four-year-old Kinsey insisted I read one of Disney's Princess books, where Belle showed Chip how to practice patience (I figure God strategically placed that one in my life to forewarn me of things to come).

Between seeing my hubby off to work and going to pick up my grandchildren for our McDonald's/Library adventure today, God also had me write devotionals on measuring words, and being filled with strength, and praying for power in our weakest moments.

I also had just enough time to read my new-found blog-sister's post Putting On The Brakes, and realize now, how providential her words were to my own situation.

After making round sandwiches, having a tea-party, attending to potty breaks, answering emails, and consoling long-distant grief-stricken friends, I found another message for my wearied time-worn frame:

My life is probably not much different than anyone else's. Everyone is busy.

My four hours had far more situations occur than I lay before your weary eyes, today.  Suffice it to say, I realize that all the little things, which seemingly rob us of important moments of life, are really the big things that restore the time we think is misspent.

For at the close of day, I am reminded of the bear-hug I received and the thank you voiced by my Arabic-speaking friend.  I still see Abodda's tear-streaked face because he didn't want us to go home.  I am content in knowing yesterday's four hour portion of my 62 years, was spent exactly like my Lord wanted it spent.  And as I consider what today holds, I shudder a bit, yet find myself believing it's never too late when you invest your time in another's life for God's glory.  selahV

Hey...don't rush off.  Am I alone?  Do you ever think the little things are too little to count? 

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I Don't Feel Like It

Kinsey and Haylee trashed (what we commonly refer to as), the "girls' room".  It's a  combination guest room for when my son's girls come from Texas for the weekend.  Kinsey decided to carpet the bedroom with all the books on their bookshelves.  Then Haylee cleaned out the closet and made it into a store (so all the toys in there came out onto the floor, too). They made a tent out of the bunkbeds.  Then they took a big box and headed to the kitchen to shop for merchandise for their bedroom "store".  Suffice it to say, "the girls' room" looks like an Oklahoma tornado blew through.  When I told the girls that they needed to clean up their messes before their mom came, they both pointed to the other as the one to blame and said the same thing:  "I don't feel like it."

I understand.  I make lots of messes and don't feel like cleaning them up.  However, sometimes we gotta do what we don't wanna do.

I kinda think our world is like "the girls' room".  We all like to play in it, but when we make a mess of it, we don't wanna clean it up.  Our lives are like that, too.  We do our own thing and saturate ourselves with those things which please us, but when we start carrying box-loads of kitchen stuff into the bedroom, we discover it's not quite as much fun to carry it back.  We yank all the order from our lives and spread it out in places it doesn't belong and then we don't want to bow down and get things straight.  We, like Kinsey and Haylee, want to blame the others for the mess we make of things.  We just don't feel it.

It takes too much effort to sort through the cause and root of a problem.  It takes too much time to undo what we've done.  It looks like a disasterous mess and we would rather just move to another room and forget about it.  We don't want to accept responsibilty for our part in the mess we make.  It's easier to point fingers, walk away and move on to another room.  The only problem is, if you haven't changed the way you play, you wind up making a mess of the next room, too.  Therefore, sometimes you gotta do what you don't feel like doing.

My daughter came over and helped the girls lug the "groceries" back into the kitchen.  She helped them place the books back on the shelves.  She guided them in putting the toys back in the closet, and straightening up the living room.  She didn't do it all for them.  But she let them take her yoke upon them and carried the heaviest part of their load.  Just like Jesus does for us.

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29

TICKLED TO PEDDLE PINK amid the howling beasts

I love pink.  I like pink dresses, pink blankets and pink roses.  I love pastel blue, lavendar and pale green.  Anything that's soft and feminine, to me, is ideal to lavish upon my darling granddaughters.

I read an article on AOL a few weeks ago about an author who is opposed to pink being peddled to our precious little girls.  Seems she is not just against girls prancing about in pretty pettifores; she doesn't like the princess-image being force-fed to girls via fairytales...there are no Prince Charmings or White Knights.  Very few girls grow up to be princesses.  If I didn't know better, I'd think most girls grow up expecting to live in vine-covered castles, fulfilling fantasy marriages complete with twittering birds and talking mice at their beck and call.  The villains sucking the brains from our vulnerable little girls are Disney's line of princesses: Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty, Mulan, Sleeping Beauty, and of course, that wicked Little Mermaid.

According to Parent Dish's Tom Henderson, the author of "Cinderella Ate My Daughter", Peggy Orenstein, offers an ominous outcome for girly-girl imaging.  She is concerned the "prince" her daughter marries and vows to love and protect her will run off and marry nurse-Nancy as soon as he's finished dental school.  After all, once a Beast, always a beast. 

I might agree with her position if not for one thing.  Reality.  I grew up in the age of Barbie and Ken.  My sister-in-law passed her collection of Barbies onto my little girl.  Although Barbie donned a fresh gown every time she twirled around, she also had attire complete with briefcase and hard hats.  Barbie portrayed a working gal.  Yeah...that liberated woman who brought home her own bacon and wouldn't let Ken open her pink car door.  She could be a nurse one day and a doctor the next; a model in a gown or a CEO in a three-piece pantsuit and tie.  I do not recall one apron or rolling pin in the pink plastic wardrobe.  It's an absolute miracle my daughter grew up to be a stay-at-home wife who raised three children and is now homeschooling her two little girls.

But back to the princess plight.  I was fortunate; Cinderella didn't eat my daughter.  She grew up reading all the fairytales and watching happily-ever-after movies.  She wore pink and played with Barbie.  But she lived in the real world, unspoiled, and learning what it is to be a Proverbs 31 virtuous woman.  She didn't model herself after the folly of the world because we brought her up in the admonition of the Lord and prayed with her, over her, and for her throughout her life.  And no, life has not always been a rose-garden.  But she's learned how to pull the thorns from her thumbs and move on.  Sometimes the brambles seem overwhelming as they wrap around her life.  But in these times I'm glad to see she's developed the character of all those Disney princesses who suffer unkindness, calamity, and misfortune.  She's stood strong and uncompromising.  Though buffeted by life's storms, she still looks to the One Who calms the waves and trusts He will speak as only the Prince of Peace can.

In the meantime we paint pink playrooms, buy pink bows and purchase princess pajamas.  We crown the girls with jeweled tiaras.  And as we sip sweet tea from our china tea-cups, we delight in telling them they are, indeed, princesses--that someday they'll wear a robe of white and dine at the table of the King of Kings.  selahV

ANOTHER POST YOU MAY ENJOY at my "Feminine Matters" blog.

 

OLD, SETTLED, AND REBORN (in case you missed it)

Once upon a time I was young and restless.  My father, who'd hung the moon and kept the stars in place in the Spring and Summer of my life, seemed to become a stodgy old man by Fall, and lose all his charm by the Winter of my adolescence.  The father I obeyed without question became an adversary. Church lost its attraction to me because I saw a deacon sneaking a smoke outside the church one Sunday.  That confused me.  I'd been taught that the body of a Christian was the temple of God and what we put into our bodies honored or dishonored the Father in heaven.  The word hypocrite took on new meaning for me as a vulnerable sixteen-year-old.  I wondered how many other things Christians who taught me did in secret.  The Sunday School teachers I'd listened to, and trusted, for 16 years no longer seemed "cool".   

I went my own way for several years after that.  I can't say that my faith in God went up in smoke from witnessing a puffing Christian.  I can only say it gave me excuse to disregard what I'd been taught by those I thought knew everything.  I thought my father was invincible--that even though he did not attend church, it was because he was busy being a fireman and community servant.  It couldn't mean he was not a Christian.  After all, he made sure we kids went to church every single Sunday morning.  He gave me a white Bible on my tenth birthday.  Yet, somewhere between 10 and 16, I realized the grapes that were fermenting in our garage were not a tangy form of Welch's juice.  My restlessness took on a life of its own.

Today I am old.  Settled.  Reborn.

Today I know how foolish one can be in life when they judge God based on the merits of others.  I see how God's Word stands in the face of witless thinking.  I see how faith withstands the tests of time and circumstance and failure.  I know that God's grace works continually in the life of a child-like trust in "For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him will have everlasting life." John 3:16. [emphasis mine]

While I watch the demise of some institutions of faith, I cannot help but wonder what the Lord sees and wonder if He looks down from heaven and smells the fragrance of His people's prayers or the stench of their disobedience.  I wonder why so few realize The Most High God inhabits the praises of His people.  I wonder if others who stand in solidarity with settled rest beneath the blanket of Christ's redeeming blood alone feel as disheartened as I do when they look at the horizons of the setting sun.  When they see the young and restless attempt to undo that which their fathers before them stood in the gap to build?  do others see the strongholds crumbling in the tension of unsettled hearts?  do others understand how jumping up and down on bridges built to share the love of Christ can weaken its support and cause catastrophic consequence to those children walking toward safety on the other side?  I wonder.  I really wonder.  (to be continued...) selahV

OLD, SETTLED, AND REBORN

Once upon a time I was young and restless.  My father, who'd hung the moon and kept the stars in place in the Spring and Summer of my life, seemed to become a stodgy old man by Fall, and lose all his charm by the Winter of my adolescence.  The father I obeyed without question became an adversary. Church lost its attraction to me because I saw a deacon sneaking a smoke outside the church one Sunday.  That confused me.  I'd been taught that the body of a Christian was the temple of God and what we put into our bodies honored or dishonored the Father in heaven.  The word hypocrite took on new meaning for me as a vulnerable sixteen-year-old.  I wondered how many other things Christians who taught me did in secret.  The Sunday School teachers I'd listened to, and trusted, for 16 years no longer seemed "cool".   

I went my own way for several years after that.  I can't say that my faith in God went up in smoke from witnessing a puffing Christian.  I can only say it gave me excuse to disregard what I'd been taught by those I thought knew everything.  I thought my father was invincible--that even though he did not attend church, it was because he was busy being a fireman and community servant.  It couldn't mean he was not a Christian.  After all, he made sure we kids went to church every single Sunday morning.  He gave me a white Bible on my tenth birthday.  Yet, somewhere between 10 and 16, I realized the grapes that were fermenting in our garage were not a tangy form of Welch's juice.  My restlessness took on a life of its own.

Today I am old.  Settled.  Reborn.

Today I know how foolish one can be in life when they judge God based on the merits of others.  I see how God's Word stands in the face of witless thinking.  I see how faith withstands the tests of time and circumstance and failure.  I know that God's grace works continually in the life of a child-like trust in "For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him will have everlasting life." John 3:16. [emphasis mine]

While I watch the demise of some institutions of faith, I cannot help but wonder what the Lord sees and wonder if He looks down from heaven and smells the fragrance of His people's prayers or the stench of their disobedience.  I wonder why so few realize The Most High God inhabits the praises of His people.  I wonder if others who stand in solidarity with settled rest beneath the blanket of Christ's redeeming blood alone feel as disheartened as I do when they look at the horizons of the setting sun.  When they see the young and restless attempt to undo that which their fathers before them stood in the gap to build?  do others see the strongholds crumbling in the tension of unsettled hearts?  do others understand how jumping up and down on bridges built to share the love of Christ can weaken its support and cause catastrophic consequence to those children walking toward safety on the other side?  I wonder.  I really wonder.  (to be continued...) selahV

STRIKES, SPARES AND OTHER BOWLING BLESSINGS

Last weekend, Hubby tried to teach everyone how to bowl with his fine form and precision-like throws.  No one got the bend and release motion. Instead, balls crashed onto the alley with loud pops. I was sure that at any moment the bowling attendants would come throw us all out of the alley.

I felt like I'd bowled twenty games instead of simply watching four little girls and a husband bowl a mere two games.  I wondered if my muscle-pain was due to pain-by-proxy.  Empathy pains?  The contortions they all made to get their heavy balls to roll down the alley and clobber bowling pins reminded me of pretzels making their way down an assembly line.

 

I wanted to bowl, too, but I discovered on my third throw that my neck wouldn't allow me the privilege of bowling with my grandkids.  Fortunately for me, the girls loved taking turns when it was Grama's time to bowl.  Corporately, I had pretty good scores. Yet even with all four girls bowling collectively for me, my score still didn't top my youngest 4-year-old granddaughter, Kinsey's score of 82.  Yeah.  Tiny little Kinsey would grab a 7 or 10-pound ball, lug it over to the alley, drop it on the floor, then give it a shove down the alley.  Then she'd sit down and wait to see what happened.  That ball would take an entire minute to reach the pins and topple 5 to 10 pins with one whack.  It was hilarious.  Of course the bumper helped her when balls ricocheted off the padding.  But everyone used the same lane, so it was all even-stevens. 

Gutter balls and splits abounded.  Spares and strikes were sparce except for Grampa.  Still, every pin that came down was highly celebrated with cheers and high-fives.  Who needs trophies when we have one another to encourage and affirm our efforts?

It kinda reminds me of Hebrews 10:24 "...let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds." 

Bowling affords great opportunities to teach addition, cooperation, sharing, patience, perseverance, encouragement and the plain old joy of being with one another...don't ya think?  selahV

IF SHE WAS PRESIDENT...

Six-year-old Haylee crawled up into my lap today.  She is very concerned these days about our president.  She wants to know how much longer before we get a new one.  She must have been giving it a lot of thought because she asked, "Grama, can a girl be president?" 

"When she grows up, yes she can."

"If I was president, I have some decisions I would make."

"Really?  What would you do if you were president?"

"I'd make everybody be nice and not make fun of people like that man on television."

I won't tell you who the man on television was.  Suffice it to say, he probably wouldn't even have flinched at the child's reproof.  She's always coming up with questions about politicians and I wondered what had sparked the latest interest.  Then I remembered; she went with her mother to the polls on Tuesday and watched her vote.  Haylee must have been reading my mind when she asked, "Did you vote for the government, Grama?"

"Yes, I did.  What else would you do if you were president, Haylee?"

"I'd build a wall around the United States like the one in China.  It has been there a very long time, and it would keep all the bad men out of here.  Don't you think it would?"

"It might."

"Is that a good idea?"

"I think it is better than some I've been hearing, baby.  Much better."

She wasn't happy the other day when she saw a story about a town that wouldn't let some children sell pumpkins without a license.  "It's their pumpkins, Grama, why can't they sell them?"

I haven't told her about the legislators who are trying to eliminate home-schooling.  Nor have I informed her about the latest initiatives to replace french fries for carrots and prohibiting toys in Happy Meals.  If I did, I think she'd be dictating an email for me to send to the knotheads in San Francisco.  How dare they!

If I were McDonald's and Burger King, I'd pack up my burgers and fries and head for the city limits.  No wonder California businesses are pulling up stakes and relocating in Texas.  When politicians can dictate a restaurant's menu, prohibition has found new meaning.  selahV

PRAYING FOR A MIRACLE

Some of you know I volunteered to help teach an Iraqi lady conversational English.  Linda came here with her husband and their 4 year-old little boy.   Her husband was an interpreter with our soldiers while they served in Iraq, and is here on a 10-year green-card.  He hopes to become an American citizen.  Unfortunately, because of some very tangled circumstances, Linda was unable to bring her two little girls with her.  Her girls are 6 and 7 years-old.  Linda misses them so much.  It tears my heart out for her.

Each week she and I work on learning how to talk English, and Linda is doing really, really well.  She can read very well and pronounces words clearly.  She's so excited to be learning our language and she goes to our Friendship Internationals ministry on Tuesday at a local church to further her ability to speak our language.  Today after Linda and I had read some of her lesson book, I asked her if she had any pictures of her family in Iraq.  She did and she showed me photos of her two little girls.  As we both wept for the pain she feels because of the separation from her girls, I told her I would pray for God to open the doors and bring them to her in America, soon.

Linda really loves it when I bring my granddaughters to visit with Abodda.  He gets to play with them, and she loves to watch them play.  Below is a photo of them playing with playdoh that I brought to Abodda. [continued after photo]

 

Please pray for this miracle with me.  It will literally take a miracle for this to happen.  I cannot imagine what she must feel being in a strange country and not being able to see her little girls.  Her mother and father are their care-takers in Iraq and by their laws, they are the guardians--almost as if Linda was not the mother.  It will take a miracle to change that situation, too.  Please pray God moves in a way to release the girls from this guardianship so that they can come here.

I sense the Lord doing something extraordinary in Linda's life.  My heart goes out to her in this time of separation.  Pray for me as I try and minister to her...I know God has placed her in my life for far more than lessons in English.  selahV    

Such a Sweet Wish

In place of a birthday cake, my daughter and her little girls made me cupcakes yesterday.  We had them today after our Father's Day dinner.  Haylee and Kinsey like to blow out candles so I had my daughter put a candle in three cupcakes so we'd all blow out my candles at the same time.

"Did you make a wish?" I asked Haylee.

"Yes. I wished you'd live forever and ever."

Is that not the sweetest wish a grandma could have from her grandchild?  The glorious part about that wish is that it will definitely come true.  Jesus is my Lord.  And He has promised me that I will live forever and ever.  I pray I live long enough to see my granddaughter come to know Jesus and understand the full truth of her wish for me...and that we will all live forever and ever in His grace.  Amen?

HAPPINESS LOOKS LIKE

DIFFERENT THINGS TO DIFFERENT PEOPLE

I thought about entering a photography contest today.  The subject was "happiness".  To be honest, I searched all my photos stored on this computer and came up with a couple that pictured an obvious happiness--happiness that anyone would recognize as happiness.

This is one taken when I took Haylee to visit her cousins in Texas for the afternoon.  We went to International House of Pancakes for supper.  The girls giggled all through supper.  They were overjoyed to be with one another. A happy moment. Their happiness--lotsa hugs.

Then there's the one with Brooklyn showing Haylee and Kinsey her "happy tree" on top of Mt. Scott.  It's the first time she has been able to go to her favorite spot with her cousins.  This tree is special.  She told Haylee and Kinsey that it is where her daddy would take her and have a picnic before he died.  It was a happy spot.  Her "happiness" must be shared. 

This picture is one of my granddaughter, Kinsey, on the top of Mt. Scott.  She didn't want to climb on the boulders with her cousins and sister anymore.  She wanted to play with the pebbles.  So she sat down in the gravel-rich parking lot and made pathways with her hands.  Contented.  Her happiness is in smaller things.

This is a wind tunnel experience at the mall.  The girls begged me to put them in the machine that whirls the air around with gale-force winds.  Happiness is a whirlwind.

My happiness?  Well, it's all of the above and more.  It's getting an email today from my oldest granddaughter, Bethany.  Next October she will be having my third great-grandchild.  God has granted her wish--we're getting another G-I-R-L!!  Happiness is something we look forward to--something we can't always capture in a picture.

Happiness is a lot of things.  Little things.  Insignificant things.  Everyday things.  It doesn't take something huge for happiness to exist.  It is an outpouring of a heart filled with love and joy.  The swing that connects with a ball and hits a line drive and affords a runner to make a double.  A touchdown.   At times it can be a temporal--fleeting thing. But happiness is worth pursuing.  And worth looking for, don't you think?  How about you?  Do you have a happiness photo you'd like to share?  I'd love to see it.   

I went blog-surfing and found a gem of a photo that I thought truly captured happiness, too.  Click HERE and tell me if you agree.  I don't know the people in that photo, but it was obvious to me that they were happy.  Who wouldn't be when a newborn baby arrives?  How about you?  Do you have happiness photo? selahV

Our Home is Like a Little Church, Review

Our Home is like a Little Church is an excellent little book to read to your children and help them understand the role a father has in his home to lead the family in spiritual things.  Authors Lindsey Blair and Bobby Giles, write in a non-intrusive way. Their rhymes share how home is where one carries out the same things that happen in a church: singing songs, praying, forgiving, reading the Bible.  On one page Tessa James, illustrates the role of a church.  Then pictured on an adjacent page is how a dad is like the pastor at church who leads his family to understand God belongs in the home as well as in church. 

This little book fills a need to help dads realize their responsibility in the home as spiritual leader.  At the same time it affirms this truth to a child.  It is excellent for this purpose.  But it also emphasizes how a relationship with God is not just at church on Sundays; it's an everyday relationship with Jesus.

My only criticism would be that the book may cause some confusion to children who have no father in the home. 

It's a great book to help encourage Christian fathers to be the spiritual leaders in the home.  Churches would do a great service to parents and children to offer this little inexpensive book to fathers on Father's Day.

I thank authors, Lindsey Blair and Bobby Giles, and illustrator, Tessa James, for the opportunity to review their little book.  Each of them is a member of Sojourn Community Church in Louisville, Kentucky.  Their book is published by Christian Focus Publications, www.christianfocus.com Hariette Petersen  

JOY BEYOND THE BUBBLE

It's far more lasting than this.  It doesn't burst when some external splinter pierces the sphere of our souls.  No.  It lasts beyond the sheer joy of creating the perfect bubble of life.  It's the anticipation, the expectation, the faith that rests within--no matter what the weather is outside.  Life just bubbles over with the assurance that Christ is always with us. Always--come rain or shine.  That is joy.  selahV

BLOWING BUBBLES (/link)

When One Thing Is FINISHED...

We often wonder what's next when one thing is finished...from my newspaper column: COMMON MATTERS.

Rules? Who Needs Rules?

 

Someone hide the kids.  Cover their ears.  They are liable to get ideas from Congress.

I've been learning a lot about our country's lawmakers these days.  A lot of what I am learning is truly troublesome.  Leadership in Washington, D.C. is not concerned with rules according to one legislator in regards to the procedures of an unconstitutional health-care bill.

"There ain't no rules here, we're trying to accomplish something. . . .All this talk about rules. . . .When the deal goes down . . . we make 'em up as we go along."  Democratic Congressman Alcee Hastings.

Some folks say Hastings has no credentials to make such a statement about the principles being used in Congress.  After all, it was Hastings who was impeached and removed from the bench as a federal judge in Florida, before being elected to the House, because his judgeship was tainted with bribery charges.  That in itself might give us pause.  But the greatest irony is that a lawmaker for our country finds no reason to abide by rules (and procedures) to make the laws of our land.  Something is truly wrong with that man's reasoning ability.  If Hastings is not an indication of why there is so much disrespect for parents, teachers and authority, then nothing is.  Floridians ought to be ashamed of themselves for keeping someone of this mentality in government.  Any kindergartner would tell you that you have to follow rules.

Without rules there is no order.  Anything goes.  Nothing is below the belt.  Bribery is acceptable.  Cheating is condoned.  Lying is permissible.  Truth is unnecessary.  Honesty is useless.  And integrity is nothing.  And ultimately?  Anarchy reigns.  selahV

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BEFORE THE DAY WAS OVER

It was suppose to be the warmest day of the week.  But we woke to a clouded, chilly day.  I'd promised the girls a picnic trip to Wichita Mountains.  We layered ourselves in sweatshirts, hoodies, sock caps and scarves.  We didn't pack a real picnic lunch--just crackers, water, and cantaloupe slices.

Riverview Restaurant fed us loaded potatoes, popcorn shrimp and salad.  As we sat at the window seat, overlooking the stream, the sun finally popped through the heavy cover of clouds.

We got excited.  We finished our meal and headed down to the stream to feed the geese and take pictures.  The longer we stayed at the stream, the warmer it got.  But the time we got to Mt. Scott, temperatures were a brisk 60.

Before the day was over, we'd been thoroughly blessed by the creation of God.

CLICK ON PHOTOS FOR ENLARGEMENTS. 

SPRING BREAK BLESSINGS

Anyone who knows me knows how much I cherish my grandchildren.  Besides the obvious blessing of their mere presence in my life, I revel in the lessons they teach me.  Today we had a non-stop day of discoveries.  We practiced hunting plastic Easter eggs that Brooklyn, 12, hid for the other three girls.  Amid the frivolity of finding the most eggs, Abby stopped and shouted, "A ladybug!  A ladybug!"

Now, I ask you, what is the appeal of a ladybug?  How could that tiny little insect be such an attraction?  Right there in the middle of the first Easter egg hunt of the season--something they all find fascinating--they stop to marvel at the black-dotted orange bug.  I submit that nothing is quite as wonderful as God's creative genius.  Nothing as special as the simplicity of life.  Ladybugs are particularly special to Abby who found this one.  She believes they are a sign of good luck--a blessing from God.  Kinsey is not impressed with any kind of bug--no matter how much luck it might offer.

Want to know what placed second on the list of marvels today?

We found a lone melon seedling which sprouted from a cantaloupe seed.  There it was.  In the midst of sandy soil.  All alone.  Not another plant within twelve feet.  Oddly, it grew within one foot of the space we usually stepped on when we get out of our car.  Right by the driveway.  I was amazed it found its way to the top of that hardened crusty ground.  Five-year-old Haylee wanted to know how it got there and would it make melons.  I told her I didn't know.  "Well, I think God planted it."  I agreed and said it would probably need to be transplanted to ever amount to anything.  Three-year-old Kinsey was more concerned about its well-being.  "We need to get it some water, Grama.  It needs a dwink of water."  And so we got a cup of water and Haylee and Kinsey took turns giving it a "dwink".

Isn't that precious?  Two little girls concerned about a cantaloupe seedling that sprouted near the driveway.  They took sticks and placed them around it so no one would step on it.  As I thought about their desire to tend, water, and protect that little seeding, I thought about the church family.  Sunday night our church baptized 25 brand new born-again Christians--Seedlings in the faith of Christ.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all cared as much about those precious tender brothers and sisters as my granddaughters care about their newly-found seedling?  Wouldn't it be marvelous if all within the body of Christ saw the need to nurture, water, feed, and protect them as they grow in their faith?  I think so.  That is my prayer today.  I hope it is yours, too.  selahV

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FAVORITE PHOTO

A few days ago I set 3 year-old Kinsey loose to take some pictures with my camera.  This is my favorite.  I absolutely love it!  Thanks, Kinsey!   Total relaxation.  Completely unguarded.  His eyes filled with genuine love and happiness.  He adores you, Kinsey.  Can you tell?

Then there is the one of her older sister, Haylee.  Haylee's expression is priceless.  Waiting her turn at the camera is not her favorite thing to do.  Can you tell?=>   

YADA, YADA, Yesterday! JUST PICK ME UP TODAY

Life is so unpredictable.  You never know quite what's going to come popping out of the gate throughout a day: a broken furnace, road construction, a jury summons in the mail...

OR...grandkids at your door! 

Yesterday, I had a day of leisure.  Lunch with my friend, Barb.  Back home by four.  Babysitting Haylee and Kinsey (if one could actually call it that), at six o'clock, so their parents and brother could go to church visitation.  I thought about taking the girls to the mall to climb on the giant drum and play tag with the other children.  But most evenings they're wound down from their own day, and find quiet pleasure in working puzzles or coloring pictures. They aren't all that excited about getting dressed up. They'd rather lounge in their jammies and sit on Grampa's lap.  Grampa works all day and loves to kick back at home after work...

...Unless the girls come over.  Baby sitting is kinda like recess for him.

Then his joy is tickling, teasing and playing hide'n'seek.  After a couple of quick rounds of hiding, they usually snuggle with him in his recliner and watch Scooby Doo at 7:30.  He's found a new treat of playing solitaire with Haylee on the tiny computer on-loan from our other granddaughter, Brooklyn.  I am thinking he's really a kid-in-disguise, and all the grand-girls have his number.  Babysitting is kinda like recess for him.  Little did I know that tonight Kinsey would rather climb on Grampa's shoulders than cuddle.  And rather than watch cartoons, she sang "Pants on the Ground" to Grampa using an expandable noisemaker as her microphone.  Her abundance of energy still bubbled when her mom returned to take her home.  Mom was really readyto go home.  Turned out it wasn't her "night" for visitation.  She stayed anyway and made phone calls to absent Sunday School members as her hubby addressed postcards.  Kinsey's desire to use Grampa as her personal slide, and Haylee's desire to finish watching Scooby Doo, collided with their mom's readiness for home sweet home.

Mom wanted to stoke up the fire in the fireplace, finish a few chores before bedtime, and simply regroup.  Her brain was drained.  So was mine--I knew I wouldn't be reading that book I'd planned to review.  We kinda went over some things to do for tomorrow (which is now, today) because the insurance adjuster planned to ring my doorbell at 8 a.m. to inspect the damage our giant Mulberry tree left on our roof and my neighbor's during the ice-storm.  That meant I needed my day-face on before I was use to, (which also meant I'd need to prop open my eyelids with toothpicks).

Nope.  Never know what a day will hold. 

Sometimes life brings damage, other times repair.  Sometimes we find detours, other times direct paths.  Sometimes we're thrown a curve ball, other times a slider.  Whatever life gives us each day, it is a blessing from the Lord.  He has made it.  He has ordained it.  He has purposed it for good to bring about His glory.  We are fortunate to be a part of what our Lord allows, be it Scooby Doo or jury duty or household chores.  Yeah! "This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it!"  Whether storms threaten, or strife crouches at the door.  Whether lions sleep or lions roar. 

Today is like no other I've ever had before.  Nor you.  Let's pledge to walk with boldness into its light, to greet others with kindness no matter what comes around the corner.  If we seize the day with expectation, and wait upon the Lord, we may just find He'll pick us up and place us squarely on Eagle's wings to fly above the battles in the heavens, and storms of snow and ice on earth.  God bless you abundantly today as you find His grace sufficient to meet each need.  selahV 

SELAHV'S MINISTRY TO CHILDREN, 4 the Light-Hearted

I am signed up for Tony Kummer's newsletter with his MINISTRY TO CHILDREN blogsite.  Last week I watched a video he linked to showing how to make a Heart-pocket for a Sunday School project.  Well, I don't have a children's Sunday School class to teach.  But I have two very eager project-loving granddaughters who flat-out love it when I sit and make something--anything--with them.  So....Wednesday night our electricity went out again due to our ice-storm, and I ended up spending Thursday with the girls.  They don't have electricity either.  But, they do have a fireplace to keep us toasty warm.  While their mother did office-work for her hubby's construction business, (and later ran errands), Haylee, Kinsey and I made heart-pockets.  They turned out really cute and we had a blast making them.  We did a few extra things with ours that the video didn't show, but to see a great step-by-step instructional presentation, just go HERE.   MORE PHOTOS OF OUR CREATIONS BELOW:

 

Kinsey learns to punch holes.  We used the cutouts to decorate her pocket.  Kinsey pats her hearts on hearts to make them stick good with the glue stick she just used.

We stuck magnetic strip to the back of the heart pockets and put them on the fridge.  Now, we will write Bible verses on hearts and stick them inside the pockets.

SUCH FUN when you don't have electricity.  Don't forget to check out Tony's site above... and articles below.

CREATING NEW LIFE CRAFT  /link

All ya need is Coffee Filters, Clothespins, Colored Markers and Kiddos.

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HOW GOD GROWS THE FAITH OF A CHILD

Four years ago, I took my granddaughters over to my daughter's house to swim.  While looking in the pool filter drain, we found a tiny Red-eared Slider paddling around in circles.  The girls were elated.  "Can we keep him?  Please, Grama; please."  My first thought was, of course.  Hubby had some misgivings, but 8 year-old Brooklyn was so excited, it didn't take much to bend Grampa our way.

We found Snappy the year after my granddaughter had lost her daddy.  When she begged to keep the turtle, I thought of what my son would have done had he been there.  He would have gone to the pet store, gotten the best of turtle-homes, the right food and taught his little girl how to care for the turtle.  So that's what I did.  And Brooklyn took Snappy home to live at her house.

One day, Brooklyn called and told me she'd lost Snappy.  They'd been playing with him and left him on the bed when they went to eat supper.  When Brooklyn returned, she couldn't find Snappy.  She was crying.  She thought her dog had eaten him.  They looked high and low for Snappy to no avail.  I felt so bad for her.  She'd taken such good care of the turtle for months.  To some this would be a silly thing, to worry over a turtle.  But a child's pet is important to them.  Brooklyn was also mad at herself for leaving Snappy on the bed and not putting him back in his bowl.  She blamed herself for his loss.

I assured her that I didn't think Ali (her chihuahau), could have eaten Snappy. "He's probably hiding somewhere."  He was only the size of a quarter and would be easily missed on her dark brown carpet.  She couldn't grasp that in light of Snappy's absence.  "But we've looked everywhere."  I told her I'd pray for her.  A little while later, she called me back.  She was so excited.  "Grama, I prayed for God to help us find Snappy and about two minutes later, Mommy found him under the bed in the corner.  God helped us find him.  He answered my prayer."

I couldn't tell what excited her more--the fact that God answered her prayer or that Snappy was safe.  Today, when Brooklyn holds that quarter-sized Snappy in her palm, he completely covers it.  He has grown 4 times the size.  Occasionally Brooklyn will remind me of that story.  God has faithfully grown Brooklyn's faith time and time again through the years since He answered her prayer.  Snappy is just a tiny bit of visible proof for her to hold in the middle of daily difficulties.  Maybe God planned it that way from the moment we rescued Snappy from the pool drain.  Who is to say?  selahV 

DON'T IT JUST AMAZE YOU WHEN GOD SHOWS UP AND...

MANIFESTS HIMSELF IN YOUR LIFE?

Whew--ee!  The power of the Lord and His Spirit blows my mind.  I'm driving back from Texas today and my 5-year-old granddaughter is preaching to me from the back seat.  "Keep my commandments, and follow them. I am the Lord.  Leviticus 22:31."

HayJae and I had talked all the way back from visiting her two cousins.  We'd discussed all kinds of things.  What to buy her little sister for her birthday this weekend.  What she wanted for her own birthday next July.  How many days till Fall began.  How many days would Fall have.  How many days did Winter have.  How many days did Spring have.  What we'd do the next time we went to visit her cousins in Texas.  What we'd do when they came to visit us.  Could we go back tomorrow?  The car was dark.  Every now and then the sky would light up and she asked why it did that.  I shared the way lightning works.  How thunder rolls.  How God controlled it all.

Earlier that evening she sang a Fruit of the Spirit song she'd learned in church.  She had no qualms about the fact we were in the middle of IHOP restaurant.  She shared with her cousins about how Jesus got mad in the Temple and turned over the tables.  She explained to her cousins how Jesus died on the cross to take away all our sins.  And people who didn't love Him would go to Hades.  And when they went to Hades they'd burn in the fires.  (Fortunately for her cousins, they're both Christians.)  She talked about her little pink Bible and how her brother Jordy wouldn't let her use his.  "I'll have to use Mommy's."  She explained to them how Jesus went to the Temple, but we go to church...but they are the same thing.  It filled my spirit with joy unspeakable to listen to her.  I can't explain it.  THEN...we're almost home and she begins reciting scripture.    

I have no idea how many times she said that before it knocked me upside the head.  But finally I heard her.  "What are you saying, HayJae?"

"Keep my commandments, and follow them.  I am the Lord.  Leviticus 22:31"  She repeated it.  I tried to say it.  And I got it wrong.  She said, "No, Grama.  You've got to practice." She took her time and repeated:  "Keep my commandments."  She waited for me to repeat it.  I did.  "Follow them."  She waited again.  I repeated it.  "I am the Lord."  I repeated that.  "Leviticus 22:31"  I reversed the numbers.  "No, Grama.  Try again.  Levitcus 22:31"

I repeated the verse until I finally said it.  "You've got it!  Now keep practicing, Grama."  Again and again we repeated it.  But I knew it would take some time for me to truly have it memorized.  I'm really slow at that.  Yet, it was such an encouragement.  My heart filled up with incredible peace.  The world is good.  Life is good.

So much in life today is disturbing--so black--so full of sin and cruelty.  But somehow in the darkness of my Chevy Malibu, life took on freshness and Light.     

Now, folks...you tell me.  Is that not the dearest thing?  Five years old.  Teaching her grama.  Think God might be using this child?  I do.  Do you think she knows it?  I doubt it.  selahV

["And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: Acts 2:17]  

WHAT AM I PASSING ON?

When my daughter first got married, I sat down and wrote out a slew of recipes so she would know how to make my spaghetti sauce, beef stew, stuffed porkchops and various other dishes.  Through the years, when my daughter was cooking, she'd call and ask how long to cook something, if a certain dish could be frozen, etcetera.  My daughter rarely calls me anymore about cooking.  She's learned how, and is one of the best cooks I know.  Now she makes her sauce, stew, and chops.

As her mother, I often wonder how many of my habits I've passed on to my daughter.  Some of the areas I consider weaknesses in myself, I've watched her develop into strengths.  She is an organizer, administrator, take charge kinda person.  I'm a spur of the moment, creative, let things flow kind of person.  She confronts; I encourage.  She expects; I accept.  Is this a direct result of her methodically and determinedly seeking to be different, or do we simply have gifts that lead us to react differently in the same set of circumstances?  How much is innate and how much is learned behavior?

I'm reading an interesting book, FAMILIES OF THE BIBLE: How They Coped with Today's Problems.  The very first chapter touches on families "repeating patterns" and passing along traits to their children through behavior they learn by simply growing up in the household.  Co-authors, Howard Hovde and Louis Moore write:

"Many couples duplicate patterns their parents establish....The family in which we were reared left deeper impressions on us than we probably realize--how we feel about ourselves, how we view the world, how we relate to our spouses, what we think of money, how we feel about others."

This comes as no surprise to me.  I have fought off many of the patterns I carried into my life from my parents.  I also developed patterns of my own which I tried to keep my children from adopting.  Nevertheless, there are some things that cling like stick-tights and it may take years to break the habits or destroy patterns our children pick up.  My daughter took into her marriage some facts:  her father helped her mother with many household chores.  She married a man whose mother did all the housekeeping and cooking.  These were patterns from their families that challenged their marriage.  They had to work through them.  I like what the authors said about that: 

"From 16 to 25 years of observing and experiencing how to relate doesn't automatically stop at the altar.  The system that has developed in the home is strong; the momentum to continue it is powerful."  

How about you?  What areas of your family life do you see your children adopting?  What habits of yours do you hope they will adopt?  What patterns have you passed on?

In the next few posts I plan to offer a sampling of what Hovde and Moore have served to us in their book.  There are "Families Of The Bible" which speak to the problems we have today.  There are still things we can learn from these families--their mistakes, their patterns, their actions.  Perhaps we wil learn something new about "How They Coped with Today's Problems".  Ya think?  selahV  

THIS LITTLE GAL IS....

SEVEN YEARS OLD!  Today we celebrate her birthday at Skateworld (her choice).  EEEEEK!  I can't skate!  So I will be the one taking pictures.  Yeah!  Good Grama.

  Bob can skate, though.  Sooooo...he'll be the designated grandparent to "put his right foot in, take his right foot out, put his right foot in and shake it all about".  Well, pictures should be forthcoming later on.

Have a great Saturday folks!  Be blessed and filled with happy thoughts!  I sure will be.  Can't do anything but be happy around this little bundle of bouncing joy!  selahV

THE WAY THINGS OUGHT TO BE

HayJae and I were watching a cartoon.  I wasn't exactly thrilled with the plot in the story as Dexter and his rival competed with one another in various ways in school activities.  The one-up-manship dominated the entire cartoon.  I kept waiting to see the good overcome evil in the story.  At one point each of the adversaries win an award for a science contest.  The cartoon characters had each tied for first place and would have to share the trophy.  However, when they received the award, they kept pulling it back and forth saying, "It's mine."  "It's mine."  And that was how it ended.

HayJae, only three and a half, said, "They aren't sharing Grama.  They need to share."

It's odd watching how a negative cartoon and the selfishness of two individuals can be seen with eyes trained in the difference between right and wrong.  It's amazing to witness a tiny toddler grasp the concept that even adults do not comprehend or practice.  If only things were the way things ought to be.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]