Gone too Long

My last post September 1, 2010....????? Difficult times these last few months..but God is so faithful and His kindness is everlasting. I will be working on getting some more of my thoughts in my blog over the next few weeks. Thanks to all of my faithful readers and friends.

God's Time Machine

I am searching for something…in the far corners of my mind. With a tiny flashlight of expectant hope, I am pushing memories around, stirring up years of brain dust, leaving footprints on the floor of my mind looking for a time machine…God’s Time Machine.

Ah yes, there it is. Buried deep among years of collected thoughts, sights, dreams, failures, hopes and experience. I find it needs some care. I apply gentle cleansing powder of honesty, some squirts of childhood oil, while checking the springs of cherished family and friends and tightening all the lose nuts, bolts and ends of memories too long neglected.

I’m ready to hop on God’s Time Machine and go back to visit those who lead me to the Lord. In my mind, I see ordinary people, no one special. All filled with God’s spirit, love and care, who came up beside me and held my hand, hugged my heart, soul and body. They shared God’s word, His love, His kindness, His expectations, and His discipline. People who cared enough to disciple this wild, unruly, worldly misfit, imprisoned in a cell of sullied theology, materialism, anger and disillusionment. They shared the truth and the truth set me free.

Church, Sunday school, small bible studies, retreats and most importantly home groups is where I was led and fed. Many moments , hours and days of prayer, meals, breaking of bread in communion, tears, laughter, birth, death, hardships and blessings…all shared while teaching me peace, rest, trust, kindness, and how to grow strong by the streams of Living Water.

Growth is often painful…the strong spiritual bones and muscles forged from discipline were often difficult and unwelcomed at times. But my faithful (and determined) disciples who would not let me merely dabble or fake my way in spiritual exercise….they walked the talk and took me with them on the treadmills of their experience, knowledge and holiness. The saw pass the problems, pimples and poutiness of my spiritual adolescence and saw the potential.

There was Doy, Kathy, Marty, Keith, Karen, Greg, Robbie, Debbie, Ruthann, Dan, Carol, George, Diane, Wendy, Joanie, Carl, Bill, Hoppy, and many more. All once strangers that God had cross my path. Now they are dear brothers and sisters in Christ. Some have gone home to the Lord already; they will be there to greet me when God calls me home. Some moved away and I have no idea where they are. Others I still have the blessing of talking with and sharing. This I know...that I will spend eternity with all of them. That is an awesome and thrilling thought that gives me hope and an assurance of a glorious future.

Those wonderful disciples planted, others watered and God caused great growth in me…all for His glory. They taught me well how to reach out to another and over the years I have worked with God in what He has initiated, inspired and included in my life. What an honor, privilege and blessing.

Will someone someday pull their God’s Time Machine out of their forgotten corners of memories and write my name in a journal or story as one who shared the truth that helped set them free? Will someone share how I hugged, loved, and gave them a glimpse of peace, rest, and trust? Will someone remember how I stood beside them and helped a little with their growth?

I pray so…

God’s Time Machine is creeping to the here and now…today…and ready to go into the future. To reach out and disciple someone for God’s glory and honor. I am excited about those He has already in mind to cross my path. I look forward to coming up beside someone with love and care, to hold a hand, and hug a heart, soul and body... and share the precious life saving and spirit freeing Jesus Christ and His Word.

God’s Time Machine is cleaned, oiled, tightened and ready to go wherever God sends me….to whomever He wants me to touch…to join Him in His experience of calling others to Him while using me to touch them in some small way. Me, an ordinary woman, no one special but who so desires to do for another what so many others have done for me over the years.

Have you looked for God’s Time Machine in your life? We all have one. Find it and do a little gentle cleaning, oiling and tightening, and look back and remember those who helped you along the way. Then reach out to another in discipleship. Join God where He is and in His experience with precious ones…the time spent with another is such a blessing and never wasted time while riding God’s Time Machine.

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Service for The Great I AM

”I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because He considered me faithful, putting me into service” 1Ti 1:12

The Alpha and the Omega, The First and the Last, the Beginning and the End, the Bright and Morning Star…The Creator of the Universe and all within. The One who threw the stars in the sky and named each one. The One who has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand. The One, who sees all, knows all and is all. The One who is King of kings and Lord of lords. The One who knows every hair on my head, every fiber and DNA, every cell and nerve… and who knows my thoughts before I know them…considers me faithful and puts me into service.

Wow.....

Doing service for the Great I AM? Sobering thought…but exciting at the same time. Like loving the beauty and majesty of the ocean but knowing (and respecting) the power of it. Trembling expectation when God calls me is a sensation I do not take lightly or frivolously. Serving God is serious business and is the only business that will follow me into eternity. God is working all around me and I need to join Him in whatever and wherever He leads me. No matter the dimension of the service…may I do it willingly and faithfully.

God is truly in the business of motivating me…while I know serving Him is serious…I also know the joy, delight and fun in doing so. The God who made all things in such wonderful variety thrills me with His creativity. From hummingbird to vulture, catfish to porpoise, lion to wild boar, and hippo to platypus, I stand amazed at His obvious delight in creating. The many people I know and love….all different…all special with personalities like no other. It is the same with the special opportunities He sets before me…all different and made to order from the One who knows me and knows what needs to be done.

Desiring to serve, I draw and rely on His strength, sprinkled with a dash of His wonderful grace, a pinch of His compassionate mercy and a pouring of His infinite wisdom and discernment…I bow my head in thanksgiving that one more day has been granted to me for Him to put into service.

As I thank Him, I also pray:

Dear Savior,
A living sacrifice I want to be, not for me but for You and the people you have cross my path today. Clear away the sticky cobwebs of prejudice, preconceived notions, unrealistic expectations and pride. Check my sometimes-myopic spirituality that can blind me to the things you want me to see. Open my deaf ears that tend to hear only what I want to say. Help me to really look to see, listen to hear. Help me to gather my thoughts…and inspect them before speaking and may whatever I say be kind, encouraging and a delight to the one hearing…and a sweet sweet fragrance to You my Savior and King. May they see You dear Jesus…only you. Amen


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Dancing Pizza Man

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, Colossians 3:23


While driving down the main street in my little town, I noticed a young man swinging a sign of a special offer for $5.00 pizza's.

He had those little things in his ears from his iPod with what looked like giant white floss going down somewhere in the deep pockets of his very baggy pants that hung very low. He had on dark, mirror like sunglasses...you know… the kind that when you look at the person you see only yourself looking at the person. A dirty ball cap covered long and uneven dishwater blond hair. He was tall and skinny (wonder how he kept those pants from falling?) with a long nose and long fingers that you could plainly see while he swirled the sign around to music only he could hear. He totally fascinated me. I was so entertained while sitting at the light. Drumming my fingers on the wheel, bopping to his movements and smiling.

It was always warm out but he was always jamming! This young kid put so much effort and movement into swinging that sign to whatever he was listening. He was throwing the sign up and then catching it, making it spin faster and faster in his hands, while dancing, dancing, dancing. He didn’t look bored or exhausted...instead, he looked as though he was enjoying himself and his energy was infectious... you wanted to get out of the car and join him (well, at least I did!)

I didn’t necessarily want to get out and buy pizza, but I wanted to do a few dance steps all the way into the store to tell the manager what a treasure he had outside on the sidewalk (who knows , maybe HE WAS the manager).

I waved as I pulled away from the light and he acknowledged me with a swagger type nod.

I have seen this kid several times and each time it was the same effort, the same enthusiasm, the same dancing, dancing dancing, and each time I was drumming my fingers on the wheel, bopping to his movements and smiling.

I don’t know if anyone went in and bought pizza’s because of him. I am sure that some people made fun of him and hurled unkind remarks as they drove buy…..but I wanted to hire him to work with me. Anyone who can put that much effort into holding up a sign on a hot sidewalk with exhaust fumes blowing his way every time the light changed has potential.

I don’t know if this kinetic kid knows the Lord or not. I don’t know his motivation for working as hard as he did holding a “two for one” offer of hot pizza with real cheese. But I know this…there are times that God gives us a glimpse of something that He wants us to see…and often times we miss it. I did not miss this visual lesson.

Because of trying times at work, my zeal, my enthusiasm, my desire to work has waned. I am tired and find myself looking more to the employer than the Lord for strength, energy and help….and there lays the problem.
My motivation should always come from the One, and the only One worth working for! Jesus Christ can give me so much more of what I need to do the job, do it well, do it with gratitude and joy and dance, dance, dance all the way. I want my efforts and attitude to be infections….

I want others to see me work at it with all my heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.

I noticed the other day there was another person holding the sign…this one older. He had the same look, did a few steps but lacked the funky gusto of the first kid. He looked forced and bored (now maybe this one was the manager!) Made me sad….but then I thought, “Maybe someone felt the same way I did…saw the potential and had the ability to hire the kid.” I hope so…I am sure he could liven up an office in no time!

Barb the Cashier

Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. Yet it was good of you to share in my troubles. Php 4:9-14

Paul said…”I have learned the secret of being content”…

I have been shopping at my neighborhood Kroger store for 18 years. There is a cashier that has been with Kroger’s the entire time. Her name is Barb. When we first met, she was bagging, collecting the carts and cleaning anything spilled on the floor.

No matter what time I was in the store, she seemed to be there. From the early breaking of dawn to star filled midnight, any day of the week….she was there.

Barb always had a smile and a kind word…while working double shifts, in foul weather and a few big messes on the floor. Her tiny frame would be pushing those carts in rain, sunshine, snow and ice….and always with a sweet smile and a cheery warm hello that could melt the ice she was maneuvering.

She was the best bagger…I knew my eggs and bread were nestled safely in the crisp plastic bags for the journey home.

She worked her way up to cashier (still working crazy hours) and that is when we got to know each other….as well as people passing at any time of day or night can get to know each other. She has a husband and family. I asked her once how she worked the many different hours with a family. She looked at me, smiled that sweet smile…and said in a tone that told me I should already know the answer. "Why, this is my job and I work when they need me.” No complaints, no moaning, no pity parties….just a sincere answer from a hard working woman doing her job.

Barb is now at the new Kroger’s closer to my home. She is still a cashier with the same beautiful long hair, only with streaks of gray all through it, and now working daytime hours.

I rarely see her when the stars are out or on the weekend. She has earned the right to a day shift M-F. Occasionally I will see her Sunday afternoons and I will ask...”Why are you working today Barb?” and her answer is the same as many years ago…”because they need me.” Oh, and always with that sweet smile and great attitude.

Last time I saw her, the store was not busy. I was the only one in line so we had a chance to “catch up”. I asked her how she was…and her family. She said, “My husband is unemployed and cannot find a job.” I quickly said I was sorry and she said, “It is okay…I have my job and insurance and a company that is loyal to me.” The smile was slightly different this time…not a defeatist or depressed kind of smile…just a smile that spoke of known pain, trials and weariness. She shook her head as if to drive out any negative thoughts or expressions and then asked me how I was doing.

As I was telling her about Austin and his wanting to swim "all by himself” I couldn't help but notice several things…She looked in my eyes and was very interested in what I was sharing…she has a ribbon that holds the many roses, pins and awards of customer service….and she still smiled.

I walked away with a lighter step and a renewed determination to smile more, listen more, talk less and most of all ….to be more content. She had no idea what a light she was to me. I think I will write a letter of appreciation for her and her excellent customer service and attitude and maybe add another rose to her ribbon.

Cast Your Cares

I was thinking this morning as I wanted to encourage another (and myself) as we face some difficult burdens in our workplace…..

God spoke to me in this way….

Crystal, today is a new day….




Filled with endless opportunities to do what is right….
Filled with the Holy Spirit
Filled with astonishing beauty all around us
Filled with blessings that need to be seen with the eyes of the heart
Filled with people we love
Filled with people who love us
Filled with people who need loved
Filled with mercy that heals
Filled with compassion that draws others to the One we cares
Filled with hope that endures
Filled with faith that preserves
Filled with peace that can quiet the fears, calm the anxiety and hush the worries
Filled with temptations to keep us focused on the One who can help us resist
Filled with sacred moments that only the soul can embrace
Filled with endless opportunities to do what is right…..

One of my favorites verses came to mind…

1Pe 5:7 Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you.

Christ is not controlled or driven by my circumstances….or my emotions….with Christ in me how then can I allow my circumstances and emotions to control me….are my concerns and anxieties greater than the One who lives in me? May it never be!!!! He is my rock, He is in all of my circumstances as He goes before me. He is my peace, my rest, my comfort, and my strength. His face, His grace and His pace is all that I need for today…for this brief moment in time..for yesterday is gone and tomorrow is but a chance..…just for today, I CAN do all things through Him who strengthens me for it is He who carries my burdens because He cares for me.

So I start my day with these thoughts…Thank you dear Jesus, thank you.

Everyday Blessings

I received a forwarded e-mail titled: Chocolate Ice Cream that expressed the thoughts and actions of an elderly gentleman who would order sundaes for dinner because he was up in years and did not want to miss out on life’s little blessings while he was still able to enjoy them.

It made me sit and think of God’s blessings in my own life…blessings that I can miss if I do not keep my eyes, ears, and hearts open to see them.

God’s blessings are all around us…hundreds every day…

Just a few off the top of my head...

Singing birds in the morning, sunrises with tiers of clouds like a stairway, raindrops on the roof, the scent of lilacs, the baby birds in the nest below the window, a gentle breeze, the wag of a puppies tail or the purr of a tabby, the hug of a friend, a card in the mailbox, the taste of blackberry jam, the dog-eared page of a much loved book, adult children, grandchildren, the soft recliner to rest the eyes, baking cookies, a warm shower on a cool morning, a new albino baby squirrel playing in my trees, a good movie, a good marriage, a kind husband, women friends, chocolate milk shakes, good pasta, warm bread, cinnamon toast, a brand new pretty top, a new book, a drive in the country, drinking rich coffee while sitting in my screened porch, a thunderstorm with lighting, fluffy clouds with funny shapes, a good night’s sleep, powerful sermons that make me think, good people to work with everyday, people that share and love and inspire me, Sunday morning at church, a day at the zoo with grandchildren, my sisters, a day with nothing to do, fellowship, old and new friends, a competent physician, decent health, good teeth, eyeglasses, insurance, a good haircut, a computer, any job well done and completed, good neighbors, dinner with friends, hummingbirds at the back porch, a smile from a stranger, the kiss of a baby, the sunset with streaks of red, gold, yellow and beauty, a walk among old lush trees, silence, music, prayer, Christ, the Word, the Holy Spirit, soft grass under feet, mud between the toes, a car that runs, a job to go to, a house to welcome you home, a soft pillow and warm blanket at night, pantry filled with food, a belly that is never hungry, eyes that see, ears that hear, hands that reach out, arms that hold, words that comfort…..

This is a good reminder for me …don’t just “smell the flowers” and miss all the rest…I want to enjoy it all…and soak it all in like a hungry sponge and squeeze some out to others…..

What would be on your list?…let us all enjoy the blessings of God today and every day.

Treasures

About the year 2003, I traveled the same road daily to and from work. Back behind a very busy intersection, littered with big chain restaurants, home stores, pizza joints and fuel stations, there stood a little green house. Like a small green light in the middle of gaudy flashing neon signs.

You could tell it was built long ago. It was small, unpretentious and simply designed. At one time, there was nothing but beautiful grassy fields around it.

Giant, thick trees with branches like welcoming arms to birds and furry animals were abundant, gave shade, and cooled the hot afternoons for the people who lived there.

Then the concrete monster we call 270, the outer belt, was laid. Then the widening of Cleveland Ave and traffic lights. Then the many businesses that sprouted tall, shiny glassy structures…like metal and glass weeds sprouting up everywhere.

There stood, all alone, the little green house with a broken down car in the backyard in a nest of overgrown grass. An old rusted tractor stood as a sentinel to the days when it roared black smoke as it helped clear the fields. A dented, garage door hung like a crooked smile. Yellowed, tattered sheers hung limply at the front windows. On the front door hung a newer flowered wreath…a plastic welcome to all who entered.

Every time I passed the little green house…I thought of the people who built the house. I envisioned a proud young man, the new owner of acres of land and a house to carry his new bride over the threshold and gently care for new babies and grandbabies over the years.

Many meals cooked, many days of hard work, and fresh clean laundry on the long clothesline outside the back door.

Late nights sitting at grandma’s old mahogany table while figuring whom to pay first with the little money coming in. Years of singing, dancing, laughing, and sharing with family and friends the promises of a better day tomorrow or a more abundant harvest next year.

Many nights of tucking in children after a long days play, lovemaking, sick babies, worry, and praying. Each morning dawned with new hope as they stood at their front window with coffee in hand and watched the beautiful sunrise that illuminated their entire homestead.

Every morning God kissed their house and land with His light, warmth and beauty.

Every time I passed, I marveled of how it was still standing and the apparent tenacity of those inside…never to give it up…too precious, too many memories, and too much life in those old rooms, halls and walls to walk away….and I prayed for the people inside.

One day I passed and there was lots of trash at the curb. The next week, old broken down furniture, ancient washer, boxes of old kitchen appliances and gadgets, yellowed books and old newspapers, magazines, picture albums, and framed portraits of family and friends long passed.

Knickknacks that once lined the windowsills and stood proudly on hand made, lacy doilies on side tables, and vases that held flowers picked from the backyard were tossed into the boxes like old dirty dishrags.

The plastic flowered wreath twisted and shoved in the side of a box. I cried all the way to work at the sight of that plastic wreath.

The next week...old linoleum, carpet and curtains littered the curb. The next week, the old car and tractor were gone. The next week…a new garage door and no trash at the curb… but a shiny red and white “For Sale” sign shoved in the front lawn that stood out like an ugly festering blemish to me.

I wept again….

You see what was so important and precious to those who lived there meant very little to those left behind that had the burden of deciding what to save, what to toss, what to do with the things that were not part of their life, but part of the life of someone else.

How much money was spent to buy things…

How much thought for what was wanted and how to get it to the house…how much energy and worry expended to take care of those things….how many fights because of lack of money? How many sleepless nights wondering how to pay the collector calling everyday…how much time spent with backbreaking labor to provide all those things that ended up at the curb?

Sometimes I walk the cemetery where my mother and father in law are buried. I look at the various markers and touch the names and dates and wonder who they were, and wonder what was important to them.

I visit old cemeteries, see family plots, and try to figure what wife had what child with the patriarch buried right in the middle of many wives and children. I do not know, I can only guess, I can only imagine. One thought comes to my mind…there are none of the possessions that were once so important to them anywhere near their grave…and that is sobering to me.

Because there will come a day when people walking through an old cemetery will try to guess something about Dennis and I.

There will come a day, when my children’s grandchildren will wonder who those people in the old yellowed, faded color pictures on paper were…Ohhhh that great, great, great Grandma and Grandpa Dennis and Crystal….wow, look at those funny clothes!!

They will know very little of the lives we lived, the joys we encountered, the struggles we survived, and of hard work and long days to make life a little easier for others, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. They will not know of the love we had for Christ, the many hours on our knees or the people we influenced, and the sacrifices made for believing what we believed.

Jesus said, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “ But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Mat 6:19-21

I get it…there was a time I didn’t…trying to keep up with the Jones’s was a full time endeavor and kept us in financial bondage for a long time.

God has truly changed Den and I and our attitude, motives and heart about money…how can you lose something if it is not yours to lose?

It all belongs to God…

Treasures are more fun when shared, given away or bought as a special gift. Treasures are much more fulfilling when money does not matter.

More than anything, people want a touch, a hug, a smile, a kind gesture and some time…an hour, a day, a lifetime of love and friendship.

Treasures for God are far more reaching, rewarding….lasting forever, and penetrating the hearts and souls of others around me.

I know that money seems to be the answer to everything…but it cannot buy one passage to heaven.

I know that we find security in things and possessions…but they will end up at the curb.



(This is part of a 6 week series I am teaching on the Beatitudes Matthew Chapters 5 thru 7)

When We Were When

Dennis and I attended the lovely memorial service of a very dear older saint from our church yesterday. Esther was a joy and a delight to know and had a great sense of humor… I love that about her and I will miss her. The family had many pictures of this woman who lived 86 years. Esther’s life peeking out to all of us from cherished and yellowed two-dimensional snapshots.

I always love the pictures families’ display of loved ones when they were young. Beautiful, strong, vibrant faces stare back with an excited anticipation of so much life ahead of them. A twinkle in the eye, a coy smile just for the one taking the picture…and yet for others many years later. You can see fun and humor, orneriness and a little bit of a rebel stance at times. They were going to conquer the world and make it better.

Holding hands with boyfriends and girlfriends who were to become husbands and wives. Holding first babies and then a family picture of four or more. Family members point and say “this was when”…”when they”…memories bringing back to life, for just a moment, the younger years and journeys traveled.

Later in the day, Dennis and I spent the evening with my sister and brother in law (Candy and Ronnie). It was a very typical evening for the four of us. Dinner and movie. Sometimes it is dinner and playing cards, but not so much card playing anymore.

On the way home Dennis and I were talking about what a nice time we had…that we always have a nice time together. We talked about the younger years with them (almost 40 years ago now) when we helped paint an old house late into the night with floodlights. We were hungry and the only place open was White Castles… Ronnie got very sick on those White Castles and to my knowledge has never eaten another since. We laughed about the time Ronnie and Dennis almost killed themselves running down a steep hill on a weekend get-a- way. We laughed, shook our heads at the antics of our youth and got quiet as we drove the long drive home.

As I looked out the car window through the orbs of shiny raindrops, while only hearing the lone whine of the wind and swish swish swish of the windshield wipers…I realized that Candy and Ronnie are the very few left that knew and hung out with Den and I when we were young.

Growing old has a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it. Grandparents are gone and all of the sudden parents are gone…and we are left. Our children and grandchildren are growing older. Not far from retirement and 70 seems so much younger than it did 20 years ago.

For one brief moment…I was saddened by the reality of our passing years. For one brief moment..I was troubled that so few knew us when.

Then I remembered…

Though we grow old on the outside…the inward man and woman in Christ grows stronger and stronger each day. Why do we look back and think our youth was the crowning glory of life? Why be anxious about who knew us when?

Scripture tells me differently….

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life.” Proverbs 16:31 (NIV)

“I have created you and cared for you since you were born. I will be your God through all your lifetime, yes, even when your hair is white with age. I made you and I will care for you.” Isaiah 46:3b-4a LB

God always has a way of gently bringing into focus that which is important…which will last more than this lifetime….


*Accompanying picture of Den and I in 1971.

Easter

When I was a little girl, the holidays Easter and Christmas were equal in my eyes. Each had special treasures, like golden nuggets, that were gently stored in the memory box of my mind. It appeared to me that my family tried very hard to get along, somewhat closer to one another as if stuck together by the glue of traditions. My mom would smile more as she did her nurturing chores and I could hear my dad hum while his face was buried in the evening newspaper. For a short time, my older sisters would include me in their usually secretive fun and games, and did not let their friends shoo me away like some annoying house fly. Why, they even included me in the ‘wash- the- dishes’ dance to the music that leaked out of the radio in the kitchen. I can still recall that old, yellow stained radio that played that newfangled music “rock and roll”. Our parakeet, Twinkles, could sing “The New WCOL” just like the hothouse singers of the same radio station. I liked doing the dishes around the holidays of Easter and Christmas.

We were very busy during both holidays. We would shop for the right dresses to wear. I always wanted pretty dresses with flowers and a large stash that tied in a big smiling bow in the back. It had to be soft and satiny, like the frayed edge of my baby blanket, so I could caress a small spot between my fingers and thumb the whole time I was wearing it. I am sure my mom must have thought, “What is this small black spot on the hem of Crystal’s new dress?” My shoes had to be those shiny, patent leather with tiny bows and a shine that reflected an upside down smile when I looked into them. My socks had to have crispy lace around the top because they just could not look like my brownish-grey playground socks. Some years I would even have an Easter Parade hat and gloves. I felt so pretty as we proudly walked the solemn halls of our infrequently visited church.

It was busy in our house as well. Cleaning and decorating jockeyed for top priority in our hearts and minds. Throw rugs were beaten and hung outside and revived in the wind across the web like clotheslines. Dust bunnies trapped in the tentacles of the dust mop. The bathtub tile polished to a squeaky sparkle for the benefit of the ‘Shower Curtain Sleuths’ (you know, those people that use your bathroom and look behind the shower curtain).

As you walked into each room, the scent of my mother’s perfume would be lingering in the air like scents of honeysuckles and lilacs in the spring. Cakes and cookies baked and put into hand made wax-paper envelopes and stored in dented metal tins. We were busy preparing special, twice a year food and setting tables with the finest of all we had, all found tucked away in flowered boxes under the beds. The antique card tables, with hodgepodge chairs were set up so that children could be seen and not heard. As Dad prayed a holiday prayer of thanks around the table, I felt secure.

As the years passed and I began a life of my own as a wife and mother, I felt I had to keep the traditions the same for fear of disappointing the spirits of holidays past. I learned, however, that these old traditions were my mothers, not mine. The old holidays traditions felt deserted like old ghost towns. After I became a believer of the Lord Jesus Christ, these two holidays were no longer equal in my eyes. Christmas became my most cherished holiday. New feelings and traditions began to spring up in my heart and mind like the long awaited Crocuses of early spring. As a young believer, I thought Christmas was the heart and soul of Christianity. Easter was a close second…until God grabbed my heart about Easter.


Christ’ temptation in the desert, tormented suffering, final triumphant yell “It is finished”, death on that dry, splintered cross and miraculous rising from the grave is the real essence of Christianity. Without Christ’ death, resurrection and ascension, with a promise that He will someday come back for His own, we would have no hope, no future, no assurance of anything beyond what we have here.

Easter has become my most beloved holiday...and over the years, the Lord has shown me, through studies of His word, the real power behind Easter. What is this power... it lies in one word...obedience. Christ’ obedience to do His Father’s will. Without Christ’ willing and faithful obedience there would be no hope...no hope at all. Without His obedience, there would have been no birth, no ministry, no suffering, no death, no empty grave or resurrection or ascension. Without His obedience, there would be no New Covenant, or New Testament scriptures or redemption of sinful gentiles, for which I am one. Horrible thought, is it not!

I thank God for giving His son for us. I thank Jesus for being obedient to the point of death on the cross for my sins. My prayer for myself, during this Easter holiday and beyond, is that I will strive to be obedient to my Father’s will, and I will forever look to Christ as my best example of loving obedience.

Have a Blessed Easter everyone.

Bus Stop People

Driving through town the other day, I was reminded of my morning commute several years ago. I worked at a bank 8 miles from my home down Main Street. Every morning at the same time, I would travel this long road and see all of the normal sights.

A CVS or Walgreens on every corner (well, it seems like it), coffee and donut shops, car dealerships, fast food fare, major food chains, furniture showcases, video stores, car salvage/junkyard, churches, synagogues, a few pawn shops and an adult book store thrown in. the mix.

I would pass some of the same drivers every morning watching as they ate the same McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts trying hard not to get grease or jelly down the front of their shirts. Lots of Starbucks or Tim Horton coffees. Others are talking, talking, talking on cells. Some primping while combing hair or putting on lipstick. Others are bobbing heads and tapping fingers to a favorite song on CD or radio.

Big cars, small cars, old cars, new cars, slow cars (MOVE OVER!!), fast cars (WATCH OUT!!)….red, yellow, green, white, black and some multicolored cars…you know the ones with the home painting jobs…the trunk is one color, the passenger side door another, with a feeble attempt of shooting flames on the hood.

Those on bicycles weaved in and out of traffic trying to avoid the nuts that did not see them (they were busy wiping the jelly off their shirts) and the toxic fumes that belched from tail pipes.

There are bus stops sprinkled all along the way. I often saw the same people at the same bus stops. Since most bus stops are at lights with crosswalks, I would sit at a light and watch the multitude of people waiting for the bus.

I felt a small connection with the ones I saw on a regular basis…some would acknowledge me with a slight nod of their head when I smiled at them.

A young mother with a crying baby in a stroller, with a handbag, diaper bag, and talking on a cell phone. In the most frigid of weather she would have her baby so tightly wrapped you felt like you were looking at a pile of freshly laundered clothes with two little eyes peeking out. In the pelting rains of spring and fall she would have a beat up old umbrella trying to keep it all dry while several men stood under the shelter, not offering to trade places with her.

An old woman with a shopping cart filled with plastic bags, cans, bottles, stuffed animals, sticks, and whatnot. Unkempt grey hair sticking out from a knit cap in the cold and a ball cap when it was warm. Tattered clothing, with mismatched shoes and always wearing men’s socks. She would sometimes be sitting quietly picking her nails. Other times she would be circling the bus shelter (with her cart) and talking to herself. I do not know if she ever got on the bus.

A middle-aged man, with a longish grey beard, and gloves with no fingers, pacing with a gait that was slow and deliberate as if he were afraid of falling, always drinking something out of a paper bag at 7:30AM.

Teenage boys with pants that they had to hold on to while walking, and big coats with black hose like caps tightly tied around their heads…were totally immersed in music or that little ear bug thingy that connects to cell phone.

Some students with book bags that looked like over sized parachutes just waiting for someone to pull the rip cord. Businessmen and women with scuffed shoes, torn hems, too short pants with no crease and old beat up briefcases. Elderly couples huddled together as if to cover and protect… and some homeless looking souls sound asleep on the bench or under a newspaper behind the shelter.

People. Different shapes, different colors, different nationalities, different ages and all had different places to go….and it seemed that no one talked to one another at the bus stops….not unless they were together. People huddled together (making sure they did not touch or brush up against one another), straining their necks to see if their bus was in sight.

The one thing I did notice…the one thing they all had in common ….they all looked very tired and worn…like the old tilting wooden poles that held the sagging wires that laced the morning sky all along the road. Worn down by whatever life had thrown their way. So tired looking and acting before 8:00 AM each morning.

As I write this, I am reminded of part of the poem on the Statute of Liberty...

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

The bus stop people are our local huddled masses that are lost and yearning for something that will give them hope. Gasping for the clean air of peace. Our wretched rejects of society. Buffeted and pounded by life’s smashing waves…..they have been tossed to and fro and landing on the hard, dry cracked sand of daily living. They do not know what they need.

They do not know they need a Savior.

My heart was so moved so many mornings. Often, I would pull away from a light with tears streaming down my face. I would pray for them and ask God to bless them in some way, big or small that moment, that day…for life.

These are the people we need to reach. If we reach out to the lost and suffering with love, grace and dignity, the pews of every church on every street corner will be filled to the brim.

I am reminded of another saying by my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ…

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
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.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."(Mat11:28-30)

Christ is the lamp, and He is the golden door…He is the rest the bus stop people so desperately need.

My Puppies

People have been asking me about the “puppies” that grace so many of my stories. Well, one is not a puppy “per se” and the other is a puppy. I call them my puppies no matter how old they are.

There are both suppose to be Pek-a-Poos (1/2 Pekinese/ ½ Poodle). Over the last 18 years we have had four Pek-a-Poos. They are wonderful little dogs that do not shed, are smart and great indoor companions.

We had Kol who lived 6 months and had kidney failure and we lost him. We had Elmo for 15 years and he passed quietly in my arms on the way to the vet after what we think was a stroke. We have had Sammy (Samwise) for 5 ½ years and little Boo is 6 months old.

Kol, Elmo and Boo all came from the same breeder. Sammy however, was found on sale on line because a pet store needed to sell him QUICK. His brother had been sold and he was still hanging around at 12 weeks and they needed to get rid of him.

We drove a long distance to see Sammy and found a filthy shop with dirty, smelly owners and a little white dog with pink ears that was terrified of his own shadow. Someone had mistreated this little dog and we decided to rescue him. It was very apparent that he had never been outside when we took him to the car.

Our old dog Elmo welcomed him (well, actually he tolerated him) and Sammy added another two years to Elmo’s life. It took almost four years for Sammy to come to Dennis and me if we put our hand down. He still does not respond well to strangers, but he sure does love Dennis and me.

Now if you noticed I said, “both suppose to be Pek-a-Poos.”

We just found out that Sammy is not really a Pek-a-Poo (we always did question it, because he was so much bigger than our other Pek-a-Poos….we just called him the Postman’s dog)….The mystery has been solved by a new vet and her assistant.

We took him to the vet for his yearly check over and they both looked at me and said, “Are you SURE Sammy is a Pek-A-Poo?” I told them the joke of the Postman’s dog and they are pretty sure he is a Lhasa-Poo ( ½ Lhasa Apso/ ½ Poodle) …and when I got home and told Dennis we immediately went to Google and looked at pictures of other Lhasa-Poo’s and sure enough HE IS A LHASA-POO!!!!!! Now he is legitimate!!!! We hugged him, and danced with him (well, I danced with him) and told him he was now legit.

Then there is Boo….our most recent addition to the family. Less than three pounds when we got him. He looked like a fuzzy black tennis ball with four little paws sticking out. He has a sweet (and ornery) face with a tuft of white hair on his chin, chest and two back paws, He and Sammy are great pals and often sleep together in the same cage even though they have their own.

Friendship and love mean so much to me. The kids named Elmo because they loved Elmo from Sesame Street. I called Sammy Samwise after the faithful and true friend of Mr. Frodo from Lord of the Rings. I thought of Boo, the shadowy and misunderstood friend of the children, Scout and Jem in To Kill a Mockingbird. Arthur “Boo” Radley and Samwise loved and saved their friends.

Our dogs have been wonderful, fun additions to our family. When we were going through some very difficult times, Elmo was such a comfort to me. I could cry with him anytime I wanted. He didn’t question, or get annoyed, or try to fix anything…he would just try to lick a few tears away and then snuggle as close to me (on my lap) as he could. Sometimes when I was praying he would creep up, put his head on my chest, look at me, and just rest on my chest as if he too needed to soak up the moment with Christ.


I learn much from my four legged companions in life. They love unconditionally. They forgive easily and quickly. They “apologize” by slowly slinking to me and turning on their backs when they have done wrong. They take life as it is and try to find something interesting under every rock, leaf, blanket or sofa cushion. They find such joy and delight in anything that is new, shiny or running across the fence in our backyard. They live in the moment, forgetting five minutes ago and they never worry about the next five minutes, let alone tomorrow. They make Dennis and me laugh…sometimes until tears run down our faces. They show Dennis and me the type of love that can only come from a much loved and trusting animal.

I often contrast my feelings, behavior and love for Christ with the way my puppies are with me. Right now little Boo is curled up, sound asleep at my feet, not a worry in the world…trusting me and knowing that when it is time to eat, I will feed him. When he needs to go outside, I will gladly open the door and then watch over him. When he wants to play. I will play with him. When he wants to sit in my lap and rest, I never push him away. When he wants to smother me with a bazillion rapid-fire kisses, I hold him and laugh, giggle, and love his devotion to me.

I want to show Christ my love because I am much loved by Him. I want to be as trusting as Boo and Sammy and know that every need will be taken care of (and more) because He loves me and has always been there for me. Why do I sometimes doubt, fear, or disdain when a new situation or trial, or change comes into my life?

Sometimes I feed the dogs a different food and they will run to their bowls expecting the same old same old…and will stop dead in their tracks and sit and look at me…sometimes they will be fighting over one bone, even though both have their own bone and I have to take it away from them for awhile…..but still they trust and eat the food I set before them and will behave better the next time they have the bones. …they eat and behave because they know I love them and I can be trusted.

My wonderful Lord and Savior has shown me over and over and over again that He can be trusted with and in anything.

Therefore, like Boo, I will curl up at His scarred feet and rest peacefully, knowing that I am loved by and I love the greatest Person in the world to trust in all things for all seasons and times in my life.

Old Roadways

My past is like an old roadway
Filled with much debris.
Like dead animals and broken furniture
Much like dead broken dreams.
Like parts from an old rusty Ford,
Scattered all across the way.
Like limbs fallen off sad old trees,
Leaving slithering stains across the beaten roadway.

Each one represents some despair, some hurt,
Here and there and everywhere.
Some look and smell like oily,
Gas splattered rags.
Others like greasy, crumbled wrappers from
Long forgotten, fast food fare.
Discarded without a thought or care
In the dust of my sorry past.

I would walk timidly, slowly down these byways,
Looking all around, watching each step.
Like a soldier walking a mine-filled mound,
Wary, ever so wary, of those who entrap,
While finding delight in causing such fear and pain.
Always frightened, sounds where like thunder in my ears.
Slight movements were like the twin of night terrors,
Scaring me, while I tasted my warm salty tears.

I use to walk timidly, slowly down those streets;
Frightened, distrustful of all I would meet.
Until I met Jesus, a Savior with wounds in His hands,
And bloody stripes on His back that were set.
A Savior that listened and understood,
My past, my pain, but most of all, my shame.
With tears in His eyes, He welcomed me,
Into His comforting arms and gave me a new name

He said, "Come unto me dear, weary, battered soul,
And I will give you rest.
Come and drink of the water that is pure and clean,
That will forever quench your thirst.
Come follow me and be my little lamb,
Never will I leave you alone or unprotected.
Call my name, and believe, and you will be saved,
Never to walk down the old roadways this way again”

“Because you called my Name and believed,
Your past deeds are forgotten, the old roadways rebuilt,
For in Me, though your sins were like scarlet,
Now you are now new, and undefiled.
Pure and clean like newly fallen snow.
In Me you will find peace, joy and love,
But most of all forgiveness, acceptance and care.
Come, along with me, and walk My roadways of joy.”

And now, every day, I walk side-by-side with Him,
Down these precious streets of joy, with a thankful heart.
I have begun to skip like a trusting, gleeful child,
My heart filled with such wide-eyed wonder and awe.
My mistrust had been erased by His grace,
He removed my shame and turned my mourning to joy.
He has filled me with His promised joy and peace,
And has put my burdens at His feet.

Now when others see me, hear me and know me,
My hope is that it is Jesus they see.
I know my sorry past no longer counts, not anymore,
As I will let my past be a witness of how love and grace abounds.
It is no longer the world that shapes me now,
But the hands of the Master Potter, whose handiwork
Fashions and molds, and gently shapes me unto His own,
Ready to do His bidding, to take up His cross and go.


Originally written during a prayer/quiet time October 1995

A Final Journey

King David’ son was very sick…..and scripture tells us:

David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and went into his house and spent the nights lying on the ground.
The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.
On the seventh day the child died. David's servants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, "While the child was still living, we spoke to David but he would not listen to us. How can we tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate."
David noticed that his servants were whispering among themselves and he realized the child was dead. "Is the child dead?" he asked. "Yes," they replied, "he is dead."
Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped.
Then he went to his own house, and at his request, they served him food, and he ate.
His servants asked him, "Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!"
He answered, "While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, 'Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.'
But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me."
Found in 2 Samuel 12

My Mother went into respiratory distress on February 12, 2010. For the next 11 days we had a 24/7 vigil with Mom…only we did not pray that God would be gracious and allow her to live. We prayed that God would be gracious and usher her into her heavenly home with Him.

Every day we prayed ...Today Lord?

During this time, God showered Mom and us with so many blessings.

Her room was sacred ground as we traveled this final journey with her and oh, how we felt God’s presence every day.

Blessings too numerous to share them all, but we all felt God’s close comfort, peace and strength. My workplace blessed me with compassion and had an understanding that I needed to be with Mom. I just could not leave her.

My sisters and I experienced renewed strength and energy every day in spite of little sleep. We all have our own physical challenges, and yet God made it possible for us to spend that time with Mom and not be hindered in any way physically.

Mom’s precious grandchildren were also such a blessing. Some staying all night so that my sisters and I could go home and sleep a night in our own beds. Helping to clean and sort Mother’s belongings so that daughters did not have to face that right away.

Blessings of experiencing Mom’s old sense of humor and tenderness that were seldom seen in her last few years as years of pain and strong medications robbed her of so much joy and peace.

When I receive a text on my phone, it has a loud ding-dong sound. In the first few days, when Mom heard it, she would say “Helloooooo”..the same helloooooo that we heard every time she answered her phone.

My mother is of strong Irish heritage, and in our younger years every time the family got together, Mom, my two sisters and I would dance an Irish jig. It always made us laugh. My sister Candy and I did a little Irish jig for her and she smiled and even giggled a bit.

In the beginning when she was able to interact a bit, we would watch for her eyes to open and we would jump up and start talking. She always wanted to know what time it was…so we would tell her. We shared many memories with her and would try to make her laugh…and of course, we told her we loved her every time.

I would say, “Mom, I love you”…and she would respond (in a very old Katherine Hepburn type voice) “I love you tooooo”. I would say “I love you more” and she would smile and shake her head and say, “No you don’t”. I laughed the first time she said that….but I realized that she was right…for I love my children so much…in a way they can never understand. I love them more as Mom loves me more.

As the days passed, she voice weaker and weaker, I would say “I love you Mom” and she would whisper, barely audible. “I love you to”…I would say, “I love you more and she simply said “No”. The last time….unable to speak, she just mouthed the words I love you too, and when I said, “I love you more”…she only shook her head no.

God knew what Mom needed from us and God knew what her daughters needed to see and hear from our Mom during our final days with her…and how He blessed us.

Blessings in the form of Angels of mercy in flesh that were all around us. The hospice and hospital staffs were wonderful. The hospice physician and staff nurses were so informative and helped us understand each stage of Mom’s final days. The hospital Chaplin’s were kind and brought comfort with words from scripture and prayers. The hospital staff softly and tenderly cared for Mom, like a newborn babe, to make her as comfortable as they could. They had soft voices and soft tender hands. They would smooth her hair and apply Chap Stick to her dry cracked lips. One overheard us talking of Mom’s favorite Psalm, 121, and the next day brought in a tape player with a taped musical rendition of that Psalm…to play for Mom. Another would come before she went home, after a long nights work and talk with me, and sweetly tell Mom good-bye before she left. Another fascinated us with his knowledge of Biblical history. The angel who so quietly cleaned Mom’s room had a beautiful smile and a warm good morning every day. Everyone had such love and compassion for the family. We too were well taken care of as we spent the days and nights with Mom. Many shared tears and hugs with us the morning she passed.

The final few days Mom was unresponsive. On the day of her passing, I had some time alone with her. I laid my hands on her and prayed… “Let it be today Lord.”

I told Mom once again that it was okay to leave us. I assured her that we wanted what she wanted and has wanted for many years…to be free of pain and struggles and to be with her wonderful Lord.

The spirit of the Lord came over me and I had such a strong desire to read aloud to Mom from Scripture every thing I could about Heaven. I laid my big bible on her bedside and as I read about streets of gold, and gates of pearl, a place with no more pain, no more sorrow, no more death, I would use her name…Betty was with the Lord…Betty was walking those streets of gold…Betty basking in the light that no darkness would ever touch…Betty complete, whole and healthy again.

Candy came in and we prayed with her again and sat with her as we had the previous 10 days. After a few hours, I said I have to go to the restroom. I usually went downstairs when others were in the room to stretch my legs a bit. As I went downstairs, Candy decided to use the restroom in Mom’s room.

In that brief time, Mom decided to breathe her last and passed on to be with her precious Savior. My Mom liked to be in control and so she was to the very end!

As we sat and stroked Mom’s small arms and marveled at how peaceful she looked...Like King David, the time of watching, guarding and praying for Mom was over. It was now time to rejoice…and as we rejoiced that she was present with the Lord, I remembered, “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” Psa 116:15

There is a new modern version of that great old song, Amazing Grace and it includes a new stanza…

My chains are gone, I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, amazing grace

My Mom was ransomed many years ago when she accepted Christ as her Lord and Savior…but now her chains to this life and her pain and struggles are gone. She has found mercy, unending love and amazing grace with Christ in heaven…She is free at last and at peace. Oh, how I prayed for peace for her.

One last thought...

One late night as I prayed for her… with my hands on her and my face in her sheet crying….

I looked up I saw the door to her room. An over sized and heavy wooden door with a silver handle and I realized that Mommy was soon to go through her last door.

When Mom went through that final door on February 23, 2010 @ 12:45pm she was face to face with her Savior and taking in all of His splendor and majesty…and if she looked back…she would see no door…for this life is no more.

But for those of us left here, we stand facing the closed door. We love her and we will miss her and will all experience that strange mixture of grief and relief……relief for her…grief for us….and in our grief we press our hand ever so gently on this side of the door…and hold it there for just a moment…and we say….

See you later Mom…see you later.

FADLEY (Edwards) Betty Jean Fadley. After 84 years of earthly life, Betty Jean peacefully left her three children, Sharon (Walt) Dolder, Candy (Ron) Koons, Chrissy (Dennis) Giffin, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews, including special niece Paulette Quinn, to remember and miss her. Those that have greeted Betty in her new life are her parents Thomas Jefferson and Jeanette Bridget (Cotter) Edwards, brothers Paul and William. Also there to greet her is John. Mom was a true "lady" that gave much love and many blessings to us all. We will be together again. 2 Corinthians 5:8, We are of good courage, I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and to be at home with the Lord.

Conclusions of a Busy Prayer Warrior

Is this Busy Prayer Warrior to busy to pray? The evil one would have me believe that.

John Bunyan said: “Pray often, for prayer is a shield to the soul, a sacrifice to God, and a scourge for Satan”

Satan does not like it when I sincerely go to God in prayer. He will cause any kind of chaos from small insignificant interruptions to large urgency's that demand my attention. Anything to distract me, to exhaust me, and to cause my mind to be overwhelmed with this thing we call life.

Not just physical busy-ness and movement…but the busy-ness of mind, spirit and soul. All wound up like a ten-day clock, ticking, ticking, ticking, but never running down.

A bazillion things to do every day…my day planner is sickly obese with many insignificant, unnecessary and wasteful moments I shove into the mouth of each day.

Is this Busy Prayer Warrior to busy to pray? The evil one would have me believe that….but I know it is a lie from the pit of hell.

John Wesley once said: “I have so much to do that I spend several hours in prayer before I am able to do it.”

King David often stated in his Psalms about when he prayed…

Psa 5:3 In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.
Psa 59:16 But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.
Psa 88:13 But I cry to you for help, O LORD; in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Psa 92:2 to proclaim your love in the morning and your faithfulness at night,
Psa 143:8 Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

Jesus would pray often:
Mar 1:35 Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.
Luke 5:16 …Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray.

The apostle Paul said:
1Th 5:17 pray without ceasing;

Paul also talks of being on the alert when praying…..
Eph 6:18 Pray in the Spirit at all times with every kind of prayer and request. Likewise, be alert with your most diligent efforts….

Jesus, King David, Paul, John Wesley and many others know the truth. There is a war that rages for my attention and my soul. Unseen forces to keep me from the very thing that gives strength to my body, peace to my soul, wisdom to my mind and organization to my day.

Paul told one of his church plants:
Eph 6:10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.
Eph 6:11 Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes.
Eph 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Prayer is so powerful that there are spiritual forces of evil that work night and day to keep God’s people off their knees.

Discipline to pray to receive power in prayer..so to stand against the devil’s schemes to keep me undisciplined and powerless. But let’s be honest….I have a will and I have the knowledge and I have the experience and it is ME that falls for the schemes of the evil one. Although the warfare is real…I am not powerless and I have the greatest weaponry in the world…prayer...but what good is it if I leave it under the bed or in a locked box hidden even from my sight.

With conviction on my heart….I prayed for discipline to pray and the awareness of when I can pray. God never disappoints me when I ask for His help. I have been getting up early to pray. I am praying in my car to and from work. I pray during the day at work anytime my computer freezes up and I have a few minutes to wait. I pray as I walk the long walk to and from the restroom at work. I pray when I see the prayer requests come across, I pray when I lay down to sleep at night and when I wake up in the middle of the night.

Getting started was not easy….hard to keep my eyes open and mind focused at 5:00AM in the morning. Hard to give up my favorite Christian radio program to and from work. Hard to clear my mind of the many work related issues and challenges while waiting for the PC to unfreeze. Hard to remember to pray a little prayer while going to the restroom, because I am thinking of what all needs to be done for the remainder of the day.

This prayer discipline continues to be a struggle…because Satan does not like it when I pray.

It is getting easier...prayer is becoming (once again) a constant with great blessings…and I have felt the immense power and strength that flows through prayer in these last few weeks while watching my Mom slowly leave this life and start her new life with Christ.

“We must no longer see prayer as preparation for action. Prayer must be understood as action itself, a way of responding, a potent spiritual weapon to be used in spiritual warfare against the most powerful forces in the world. Prayer is not undertaken instead of other actions, but as a foundation for all the rest of the actions we take” Jim Wallis

Time to set that alarm clock for tomorrow morning at 5:00AM……

Amen and Amen

Convictions of a Busy Prayer Warrior

In my last entry, I shared “that God has reached down and thumped me on the head…in the last few days every book I have picked up…every radio preacher I have listened to at different times of the day on different radio stations have been talking about prayer….I think I better sit up and take notice…. “

God is speaking to me…..I started thinking about what I would have to do…what deep part of me needed to be touched (hummm, maybe even grabbed) to make this busy prayer warrior a prayer warrior of power.

Discipline came to mind.

Ugh…discipline…like dieting, exercising, budgeting and everyday care of home and family?

Discipline is not welcomed much these days…thought of like a bad word. Who needs discipline in a world of freethinking, free spending, free lifestyles and a western mind set that anything goes.

Over the last few weeks, the whole idea of discipline in regards to prayer kept coming to my mind. Last Sunday was the hardest thump…my pastor talked of discipline. The entire message was on discipline. (Okay, Okay Lord I am listening!).

It is a Godly character trait…an inward quality that speaks volumes outwardly without a word needed to be spoken.…and it is necessary…absolutely necessary to be the man or woman that God desires us to be in all walks of life.

Another thought or word has also come to mind (thank you Holy Spirit)….and it is power.

Discipline to pray to receive power in prayer.

Again, like discipline, the word or thought has jumped out at me in various ways over the last few weeks.

In an e-devotional I receive every morning, I read this about prayer:

while petitions for ourselves will be accepted, our pleadings for others, having in them more of the fruits of the Spirit--more love, more faith, more brotherly kindness--will be, through the precious merits of Jesus, the sweetest sacrifice that we can offer to God. Remember, again, that intercessory prayer is exceedingly prevalent [powerful]. What wonders it has accomplished! The Word of God teems with its marvelous deeds. Believer, you have a mighty engine in your hand; use it well, use it constantly, use it with faith, and you will surely be a blessing to others. *

Notice the words powerful and mighty. Just another reminder from above…..

Thump, thump, thump….I am convicted…

I have known great moments (sometime hours and whole days) of prayer. I have taught others to pray. I have written about prayer and have a few prayers of my own on paper….penned in times of great struggles as well as times of great joy and praise. I know about the discipline and power because I have experienced it so many times in prayer and in my journey with Christ.

This busy prayer warrior admits that I have allowed the tyranny of the urgent…the daily fires…the pressing responsibilities of home, work and yes, even ministry to choke and stifle the very thing that I know to be the greatest thing….time alone, in prayer with the Lord.


Jesus knew the greatest thing:
….. Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed. Luk 5:16


One hour


To be continued…



* Devotional material is taken from “Morning and Evening,” written by C.H. Spurgeon, revised and updated by Alistair Begg. Copyright (c) 2003,

Contemplations of a Busy Prayer Warrior

Mat 26:40 Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, "Couldn't you stay awake and watch with me even one hour?"

One hour….

Last time I checked there are still 7 days a week with 24 hours in each day. A grand total of 168 hours each week. Take away 5 days with 11 hours each day for work (and that includes driving time) ) …that leaves me 113 hours. Sleep is the next big time robber…7 days with 7 hours of slumber and that leaves me 64 hours.

Let’s see…168-55-49=64 hours….really? Now I know all of the mathematicians out there will be able to break it down to the hour, minute and second that is left over each day for me….(like 3.20 hours M-F and so many left on the weekend)…but the reality is that I have 64 hours left a week after the essentials.

I could break it down more after doing all that I do in a day besides go to work…preparing meals, eating the meals, laundry, cleaning, bathing, exercise (hummmm did I say exercise??)visiting with family and friends, church, and the early mornings with my puppies etc etc…

The point is: I think I am too busy to spend a minimum of one hour a day with the Lord? 7 hours a week??

How do I spend my time?

It’s like money…I have it but at the end of the month I wonder “Where do it all go?” If I were disciplined enough to write down every penny I spent and how I spent it, I would realize where it all goes…and would be shocked how much is wasted.

How much time do I waste in my day? Denny and I quit watching TV several months ago and we have been reading more and spending more time in the Word, but what about that time of earnest fervent prayer?

I said that God has reached down and thumped me on the head…in the last few days every book I have picked up…every radio preacher I have listened to at different times of the day on different radio stations have been talking about prayer…I think I better sit up and take notice.

I am so thankful He pursues me the way He does. I know He wants the same from me for Him.

1Jn 5:14 & 15. This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him.

One hour

To be continued……

Confessions of a Busy Prayer Warrior

Voices in Prayer, Bended Knee, E-Prayer Group, phone calls, and personal requests for prayer. Sickness, cancer, heart problems, hospital, age, surgery…and someone ready to go home to the Lord. Wayward children, broken relationships, financial problems, lost jobs, lost homes, lost hope.

Prayer has been on my mind as well as on my lips lately. (I confess, more on my mind).

When I was younger, before I became a Follower of Christ (FOC) my prayers were of a rocket flair dimension. Bargaining, negotiating, begging, and questioning prayers shot off at the last troubled minute to a God I knew existed, but did not know.

When I became a FOC, my prayers were as a child asking for anything and everything. Not necessarily material items or wishes (although those were included from time to time) but prayers asking for those character qualities that the mature FOC all around seemed to have that I did not have...and really had no clue about. Prayers to heal my Mom, to fix my car, to send a new refrigerator, to give strength to my friend who miscarried. My prayers were no longer like the rocket flair, but more like a firecracker blast to a God I was beginning to know.

Back then, and for many years I had the wonderful privileged of staying home with my children…and I had time to sit and have prolonged quiet and prayer times. Those were especially sweet times of fellowship and heartfelt connection to a living Savior that I was learning more and more about every day. I formed some very good habits of spending quiet, quality time with the Lord in His word and prayer that allowed me to know Him and myself better.

Those were my beloved times of prayer, no longer of an urgent flair type shot to God’s ears…but sitting at the Saviors feet, with hot tea or coffee, my bible and a blanket in the winter months and my back porch during the warm seasons of spring and summer. Prayer was a delight.

Now I work full time…I have grown children and grandchildren…I have friends…I am involved with my church in various ministries. I have a home to care for, meals to plan and prepare, laundry, shopping, bills, a wonderful husband and I have puppies.

It seems I no longer have the time to sit quietly…my prayers have returned to flair prayers in the car, at my desk when I get the E-prayer alerts, while I am throwing a load of laundry in the washer, while I am blowing my hair dry in the morning, while I am auditing a report at work …while I fall asleep, exhausted at the end of the day… and I think of a prayer request that came a week ago

Some days, I start my prayers in the car on the way to work…. “Oh God my Father, I come before you with this request for”… (Look out mister; this is my side of the road!!) “I know Lord that you know what Joey needs”… (Hello, Crystal speaking how can I help you)…oh where was I Lord….oh yes Joey….you know what he needs Lord and I pray that… (Hold on a minute Lord, the washer is off balance)…As I crawl into bed… “Who was I praying for? Oh, am I still on Joey…Well, my gracious God and Father, you know what he needs”…yawn, snort, snuggle….snore.

On some days, that is my day of praying…

Hard to admit, harder to accept and God has reached down and thumped me on the head…….

Mat 26:40 Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, "Couldn't you stay awake and watch with me even one hour?

One hour….

To be continued………

A Forgotten Water Pot

I am a Samaritan woman making my daily trip to Jacob’s well to draw water. Much is needed, for this water will be used for all of my daily basic needs. The sun is very hot, being at its highest point, and my water pot is very heavy. Because of the heat, traveling to the well at this time of day is not customary. All the other women from this region gathered much earlier around this well, in the cool of the morning.

They came, not only to draw water, but also to draw from one another. Gathering at the well is a daily social time for the women, and their children have a time to romp and play. There is safety in many of them traveling and gathering at the same time.

At this well, they find fellowship with friends and neighbors. They will be relaxed, because they can remove their veils and not be encumbered by the rigid controls of their customs and men in their lives. When they remove their veils, the shroud of their inhibitions is also removed. They are free to laugh, dance, talk and share their neighborhood news and gossip.

I come to Jacob’s well alone. Every day I come alone, as I am the center of much of the gossip of the other women. There was a time when I would walk along with the other women, but many of my lifestyle choices give them potent reasons to whisper among themselves. At first, they tried to be discrete in their whispering and would hide their arched eyebrows. As I made more unwise choices, they began to laugh, and gossip loudly. After awhile, they started being cruel and unkind with their remarks and actions. Thus, their children would mock as well, running circles around me chanting little songs about the many men in my life. I could not bear the ridicule and humiliation any longer. It was better to take the risk of traveling alone in the hottest part of the day, then to encounter any of them. Loneliness and shame became my constant companions.

Today, as I walk toward the well, somewhat preoccupied with my own thoughts, I hear a man’s voice saying, “Give me a drink.” Frightened, I look and see a man, a Jewish man, sitting by the well. I look around to see if there is anyone else with him. He is alone. A Jewish man, talking in public with a strange woman, especially a Samaritan woman? Why? Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans. We are hated by the Jews. I lower my eyes and ask Him why He is asking for a drink from me?

He replies with strange words, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you ‘Give me a drink, you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”

I look at Him, troubled and confused? What water would He give me? I know that this well is deep and He has no tool to draw water. I ask Him how He is going to draw this “living water” and where does He get it? Is He talking of this well? I dare to ask Him if He thinks He is greater than our father Jacob, who made the well, drank from it himself, and even supplied water for his sons and livestock.

This man gently looks at me, and with a kind but firm voice states, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.”


Never thirst again? Like a fountain inside? I would never again have to come to this well alone, in the heat of the day. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. In a very excited voice, I ask Him, “Sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst, nor come here to draw.” Again, with those gentle eyes and firm voice, He tells me to go and call my husband and come here with him. My face turns red and hot with shame. I look away. Sighing, I look down to the ground and I tell Him that I have no husband. He does not give me any time to respond or explain, but says to me “You have well said ‘I have no husband,’ for you have had five husbands, and the one whom you now have is not your husband; in that you spoke truly.”

I cannot believe what I am hearing. I have said nothing about my life, or my unwise and difficult decisions. I start to speak. I want to tell Him that I was so lonely, so desperate for someone to love me. I want Him to understand that I did not plan to have five husbands. I want Him to grasp my pain and shame, for now my beauty and youth is gone. I have been used and tossed aside for many years. The man living with me now is also using me, even finds me pitiful, and yet will not commit to marriage. The words are almost out of my mouth, but I sense that He knows my thoughts better than I do. I say to Him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet.”

I look at Him still perplexed. I do not understand why a Jewish prophet would be near the place where my people worship.

I ask Him, “Our fathers worshipped on this mountain and you Jews say that Jerusalem is the place where one ought to worship.” He answers me with “Woman, believe Me, the hour is coming when you shall neither on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we know what we worship, for salvation is of the Jews. But, the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth: for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”

I am amazed and mesmerized at all this Man is sharing with me. I do not know much about that which He speaks, but in my heart, I know one thing. I say to Him, “I know that the Messiah is coming” (who is called the Christ) “and when He comes He will tell us all things.”

He looks straight at me and with great authority in His voice, He proclaims, “I who speak to you am He.”

With wide eyes, I look at Him and my heart is sure that I am standing before the Messiah, the Christ. The long awaited Messiah. My eyes, mind and soul are overwhelmed with the understanding of who He is, and that He is the “Living Water”. Not like any water that I could ever draw from any well.

My water pot forgotten, I run to my city as fast as I can to call all the men I know. I tell them “Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?”

Many of the men followed me back to the well, for they were concerned as to what this Man knew about them. For you see, many of these men had been involved with me, and if this Man knew all things I did, then how much did He know about them?

We find Him, still at the well and talking with some men. He talks of food not like what we eat. He speaks of fields being ripe for harvest. Reaping and sowing and rejoicing together. Of gathering fruit for eternal life. All the men are amazed and believed in Him because of what I told them, and urged Him to come to our town and stay with us. He stayed with us for two days, and many Samaritans in my city believed, not just because of what I told them, but because they heard Him themselves. They knew in their hearts, just as I did in my heart that day at the well, that He is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the World. {end}


As I sit and think about the wonderful women in my life…old and new friends… I realize how privileged and honored I am to know so many women that love to gather. We gather together for fun, fellowship and friendship. We gather to share, cry, hug, listen and encourage. We cherish our times together…there is still safety in numbers and various reason to gather at our modern day wells….back yards, malls, church, bibles studies, home and of course the phone when we cannot physically meet.

Yet, there are so many lonely women…just like the Samaritan woman who had a special moment with the risen Savior so long ago.

The challenge is to actively look for those women….for those of us who know the incredible healing of past hurts, slights, and offenses…we need to take that “filling up” from the well that we know so intimately and share with others. We can offer this Living Water, through our love, care and friendship to those who are hurting, sorrowful, lonely, and afraid and are unaware of such Water.

It is always good to take some time to read John 4:1-43 and learn all about the first evangelist of Samara, a woman who joyfully forgot her water pot.

Home Base

It is early morning. My puppies, Sammy and Boo have eaten, been outside and now it is time to play. They are playing nip, bite, wrestle, run and chase with each other all through the house while I sit at my PC to check my e-mails and do a little writing.

As I sit at my desk, they come rushing back here every few minutes to wrestle under my chair and at my feet. (Sometimes my feet get in the way of the nip and bite). Sometimes they will both stop a moment and ever so gently lick my feet, and off they go to other parts of the house. When they are tired of all the playing, they plop down at my feet and rest. It does not matter if anyone else is in the house….they always come back to me.

I guess I am home base.

There is always a home base...in baseball, in hide and seek, in red light, green light. When you go shopping with family, you adjust your watches and everyone meets back at the information center at a certain time. In an emergency, like a house fire, you plan and your family has a safe meeting place outside the house. Your home is home base for the family members…even when they may not live there anymore.

A home base, a safe place, and place that everyone likes or needs to meet.

I feel that way about my times with the Lord. Weather it be during prayer, quiet times, bible studies, in my car or taking a walk. In other words, Christ is THE home base no matter where I am and that is so comforting to me.

I think of my church as my home base as well. My spiritual home base for sure….but so much more. I meet there with others that I love and they love me. I meet there for fellowship and instruction. I meet there for worship and song. I meet there for communion and prayer. I meet there to encourage and to be encouraged. I meet there to be of help to anyone who has a need. I meet there to search for new people and welcome them. I meet there to hug, laugh and share with those that greeted and welcomed me so long ago, and now are dear, dear friends as well as brothers and sisters in Christ.

During worship times, I love to just stop and look around at the dear faces all around me…all lifting their voices in praise. We are all together…gathered in the same place at the same time each week. We may not all have the same reasons for being there…for each life journey with Christ is different...but we all have one thing in common and that is our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ….and it draws us to this place we call church.

There was another man long ago, inspired by God to write the same thoughts, but in a much more eloquent and spiritual way:

Since therefore, brethren, we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more, as you see the day drawing near. Heb. 10:14-25

As you see the day drawing near….each day is one day closer to the Lord coming back and calling His own home…to our new home base…a glorious new home base…with God the Father and Christ the Son.

Until then, like my puppies...I will gather at my home base…and rest at the feet of my Living Savior.