The Welcome Home – Page 48 – The Next Chapter

Through the Bible in a year

I’m always amazed (but not surprised) that God works in marvelous ways. Every now and then (and it happens infinitely more often than I’m aware of), God lets us in on His doings — or lets us see His Hand. I suppose were we to stop and really consider it, we’d see His Hand much more often than we do.

Well, so last year (I cannot believe this is already 2009!), my husband was impressed that we should read through the Bible in a year and that we would do so with no particular schedule or daily ‘requirement’ or even length of reading time. He just thought that we should read each morning during our family breakfast & Bible study. We’ve had breakfast/Bible study daily for most all our marriage.

Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established.

We were almost giddy the first of December as we opened our Bibles to 1Peter and then on through the month we read as we customarily do for about 20-40 minutes each day. Much to our delight, on December 30th we opened the Word to 17th chapter of Revelation. We read, we talked, we prayed, we thanked the LORD for His merciful kindness to us. Some days long, some days short, some days with guests, and some days with interruptions… the Lord had it all in hand. We should never doubt in the valleys what He’s shown us on the mountaintops. He took us by the hand from the beginning to the end of the book.

Now, this might not be such a big deal – for we were in no race, no contest and under no compulsion to even do this — except that Wes had been led of the LORD to just read through the Bible in –one-year– as a family. Believe me, we’ve attempted to do similar things in our quiet times – reading a prescribed number of chapters a day — two or three in the old and two or three in the new and so on. We’ve used the check-box sheets and we’ve used other methods of scheduled reading. I’m not sure how far we would get into the first month, but I recall it being in the first several days that I would get derailed. So I would just go back to reading — with no real schedule so that I wouldn’t be all flustered and feel guilty — but more, so that I would just do it.

And so, that’s why the daily reading and ending up at the end of the book at the end of the month was such a sweet gift from the LORD… and affirmed to me once again:

A man’s heart deviseth his way:
but the LORD directeth his steps.
–proverbs 16.19

God is good all the time and His ways are past finding out.

signs of the times

Wes and I were browsing articles in our local paper and one article, in particular, really made us shake our heads — a social commentary — sort of a sign of the times regarding what marriage is worth.

Although she is relieved to be out of the marriage, if she had known how little money she would get, Tomasko said, “I might have stuck with it a little more, I don’t know. Maybe it would’ve made me think a little harder.””

If she had known… she might “have stuck with it a little more…” Words fail me.

Interesting what people think marriage is worth – or what it would cost to make working at it worthwhile. Wouldn’t it be cool if the well being and the future of the *children*were taken into consideration as seriously as money or financial gain or loss is considered. Wouldn’t it be cool if family mattered.

Family matters.

Good morning, new year…

[thank you for the personal letters inquiring as to my lack of blogging… i love you and will keep writing, still]

I’m sitting in my husband’s office… it’s early and the sun is shining. I love this time of year – the sun shines at an angle such that it comes streaming in the south/east windows and casts an apricot/pink glow. I love that the days are growing longer a minute or so a day. I love that a whole new year looms large before us. I love that there’s hope and promise and potential. Potentiality… that’s what I love and that’s what I think I’ve forgotten for a few months now. Potentiality. A great big bunch of potentiality.

I haven’t felt like blogging. O, I mean, I have felt like blogging — I feel like it every day — but I haven’t felt like editing my thoughts or editing what goes into print here. That takes a different kind of thought — a different kind of energy. Every now and then I feel like just writing. And every now and then the thought hits me that I would like to write without walls. I’d like to talk plainly about so many things. But then I think it might seem that I am referring to some incident shared in confidence or that I am being too critical about things or whatever. Sometimes I’ll be in the midst of an event and I just want to write about it… from my perspective… not to say something to the others involved, but simply making observation. Amazingly, many times I will be in the midst of this or that event or activity and I’ll read a similar account in the paper or a magazine or book or whatever and I’ll consider writing about it — or at least commenting on it and then I stop. I stop bcz the similarity to my ‘real life’ situation is so parallel – and I consider what might be thought… Ack… so I don’t write about it — well, at least not here. At least not at the time. I write things in my head all day long. I think of things I wish I could say all day long.

I wish we weren’t all so quick to misjudge what we read or hear. We’re quick to jump to conclusions about things that are said…. assuming others have ulterior motives for teaching or saying whatever it is they’re saying. When, in reality, most often people are just making observations; they’re just communicating their thoughts, ideas or experiences. And bcz – though we don’t like to think so, we’re all pretty much the same, stories are often going to have a familiar ring to them… different women’s life experiences are going to be pretty similar. Different but similar. Seasons are seasons — each have similar characteristics.

We all have stories. We all have lives that should be journaled. Some public, some private. We all want to be recognized. To some degree. We all want to be loved, appreciated, cherished, validated, needed. By someone. Some, by lots of someone’s. And we all have something to say. Some ~~of us~~ want to say more in a more public manner than others do. Ironically, sometimes the more we want to be heard, the less we say.

I’ve been thinking about all this a lot lately… and, as is typical, surprise! I’ve been feeling like a: zero. But last night… I was wiping dust from underneath a tall cabinet. I was lying down on the floor to reach under the cabinet, and from there, the height and size the cabinet was significant. I was thinking: my life is just a ‘zero.’ And I was thinking (almost in protest, but probably in an attempt at self preservation): …but a ‘zero’ holds a place. A ‘zero’ next to another ‘zero’ has place. And even if there’s just a measly ‘one’ next to the ‘zero’ — the ‘zero’ has great significance. I was envisioning a zero next to… say… a 1 and 5 zeros.

I’ve been thinking about when I was 5. And all the years between then and now. I sometimes feel like I’m 5 still. I’ll write later about adding a ‘zero’ to. that. 5. For the next 81 days I’ll be thinking about that a lot.

more later. Happy new year.

Homemade Laundry Soap – easy – still!!

ingredients for homemade laundry soap

I’m using the ingredients (above) + water to make “homemade” laundry soap – and after several months of doing so, I’m still pretty satisfied with the results. I’d still use Tide if it showed up on my doorstep and I’d still use Downey if someone forced me to. ~wink~ But for the first time in my marriage, I’m more concerned with saving money than I am with the most *perfect* looking clothes. Our clothes are clean enough for me… and I’m sort of choosey.

So… for the soap, one more time:

I grate the Dr. Bronner’s Lavender pure castile soap and warm it up in a small pot of water on the stove. Then I put 2 cups of Borax and 2 Cups of Washing Soda in the 5-gallon pail (I use this pail bcz it has a sturdy handle and a gamma seal lid that’s *easy* for me to spin off). I fill the pail with hot water (about half way) and whisk like crazy until the Borax and Soda granules are all completely dissolved. Then I stir in the liquefied lavender soap. And I blend this for several minutes more. Then I add more hot water – nearly to the top of the bucket.

After I blend thoroughly again, I let this set for a day or so. Then I transfer the thick laundry soap to a gallon pail that I keep in the cabinet above my washing machine. It’s really easy and really inexpensive.

I use the gamma seal lid on all our pails… a bought a few a month for a year and have those spin-on / spin-off lids for all our pails. Everything stays fresh and tight this way!

(mis)perception — even still, God so loved the world that He gave…

coal cartoon Jack Ohman - the Oregonian

And… isn’t this just the epitome of man’s view of self before God? I’m pretty sure I haven’t been this naughty?!?!

And yet… it was for sin and sinful man that God *gave* the greatest gift the world has ever known, the greatest sacrifice ever made and the greatest promise ever promised — the greatest promise ever kept and the greatest love no man could measure: the gift of the Lord Jesus.

And yet… the world goes on in its perception: “just happy as I am, thanks” day after day. A sad misperception of the Truth.

There is none righteous, no, not one. And yet we all want to think we’re just a-okay — that our lives are going along just fine and we don’t need any intervention or any interruption from any judge – and for many, much less: the Judge of all mankind. We would like to think we’re the ones in control of our lives – our destiny and our future. All sorts of sin and deceit are brushed off — for none of us would dare to imagine we’re unacceptable by nature. Even if we admit some naughtiness — we want to quickly cover ourselves — excuse our failings. Even in the face of the stark reality of sin, we’ll attempt to hide sin and proclaim some righteousness, some self-preservation. Sons and daughters carry on this legacy of deceit and are nearly excused for doing so… consider this:

The competition is greater, the pressures on kids have increased dramatically,” said Mel Riddle of the National Association of Secondary School Principals. “They have opportunities their predecessors didn’t have (to cheat). The temptation is greater.”

Despite such responses [to the large-scale survey of highschool students], 93 percent of the students said they were satisfied with their personal ethics and character, and 77 percent affirmed that “when it comes to doing what is right, I am better than most people I know.””

When self is the measure or standard, we would all tend to think we’re ‘better than most’ and a few of us would perhaps humbly say we’re probably not as good as someone else… but that’s according to man’s standard… but according to the perfect law of the Lord, *all* have sinned and come short of the Glory of God. None can stand before the Lord and claim to be “better than most.” All will be judged by the perfect Law.

But it’s foolishness to men… men who walk on in darkness believing themselves to be good enough or “better than most”think the Bible, the laws of God are just not for them! And yet all will stand before God. Death will come in a moment none can fathom and will bring men and women to the feet of God — the Righteous Judge. No one will escape the Judgment. No one.

“For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.”
1Corinthians 1.18
“For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.”
1Corinthians 1.21

There is a Redeemer. Only One.

There is a Redeemer… Jesus, God’s own Son, Precious Lamb of God, Messiah, Holy One, Jesus my Redeemer, Name above all names, Precious lamb of God, Messiah, Oh, for sinners slain….”

I share these things bcz really, these things are imperative — nothing else is.

It’s December 18th

I thought I’d better just log-in, write something, share a few thoughts or blog an entry in order to dispel any thoughts that I dropped off the face of the earth. Or am still coughing. Or am still sick. Okay, I’m not sick… but am still coughing.

It’s December 18th and all through the house every creature is stirring — even a mouse! Little traps are all set with peanut butter and bacon — in hopes that the little creature would soon be achin’ and what to my wandering eye should appear, but more snow, yes, more snow is here! I went to the window to see the great sight and low and behold more snow fell in the night and the whole world looks to be a beautiful, pure white!

You have to know that I just sat down to type, forgot the story and so cannot continue the rhyme.

So, it’s December 18th… it sure doesn’t look like there’s a big celebration going on — or even planned… but it’s here, it really is. The pantry is filled with ingredients that, when assembled, will bring great delight… and will conjur up memories of Christmas past and set the tone for the days ahead. Each recipe I prepare and each “tradition” I don’t forget to keep seems to say to my family: I love you, I love you, still.

I’m trying to be renewed daily in the Spirit of my mind and keep the “what would Jesus do?” thoughts in the forefront of my singing and plans and daydreams and concerns. I think on each child; I pray for specific concerns particular to each one. My mind harkens back to days when they were small… such different days than these… in those days I would fall into bed, so exhausted from the work of the day and would sleep soundly — and then wakening to the sounds of a baby’s cry or the pitter-patter of little feet. In those days I could hold them in my arms and cover them with little blankets — now I can only hold them in my heart and cover them in prayer.

I miss those days and find myself thinking: hmmmmmmmm, nothing and everything prepared me for these days. The LORD is faithful. I’m thankful He never tells me what’s ahead and yet, all the while, He’s preparing my steps and my heart to accept each new dawn — strengthening my faith day by day.

I stand at the sink and ponder these days, ponder those days and think: If I could go back to those days — would I? For I wouldn’t want to miss these days in order to relive those. I attempt to recall what I was doing on any given December 18th of the last 30 years… and I smile at the thought of the early days and decide to not spend much time there — each year seemed to add a chair at the table — and even though now each year seems to take away a chair from the table, I decide to embrace these days – these good old days.

It’s time to go bake a memory.

more paul washer

Still sick… but not with the same thing – this is a new week, so I have a new bug… now the flu has come through our home and I, a gracious hostess, somehow seemed willing to host this unwelcome guest for the last couple of days. I’m really surprised to have sickness linger… so, yeah… sick again.

Cool to have the laptop here beside the bed so I can listen to tremendous sermons while I rest. Gotta say… Paul Washer is probably my favourite to listen to. But some of you knew that already. With all the religious foolishness being “preached” and all the godless movies being embraced by “believers” it’s refreshing to listen to someone who is *willing* to tell the Truth.

I’ll attempt to answer letters tomorrow – for now, have a listen:

Link Potpourri

Men Pleasers
I’ve often wondered how, or by what means, the church will be carried away — what will it look like when the elect are deceived (Mark 13.22) and who’ll deceive and be deceived (2Timothy 3.13). When “An influential evangelical leader is coming under fire for saying in a NPR interview he believes in homosexual civil unions and that Christians who oppose same-sex marriage and abortion may still find reasons to support Obama.” the church ought to take notice!

Perfect Turkey Every Time. No Kidding.
Was your Ts’giving turkey heavy-duty dry? Well, if you’ll follow Mrs. King’s advice, you’ll never have to serve dry-as-shoe-leather turkey again. She explains it quite well — you’ll have to bookmark this one when you want to prepare your next turkey.

Browsing the News
Did you think OJ would ever be brought to justice? Me neither. The judge called him “arrogant and ignorant.” I always wondered how this would play out.

Kaz humidifier & Vicks
I’ve been sick this week… coughing, coughing, coughing. O, I’ve been taking it easy — I have this tremendous fear of a bout of pneumonia — so I take it easy when I have chest congestion like this. So I have a Kaz cold-air humidifier going and for the last couple of nights my husband has been rubbing my feet with Vicks. We’ve been told that doing so quiets coughs – and though I know it sounds like a hoax, I have slept better the last couple of nights and my feet feel terrific when I wake up!! ;o) So, after my bath, he rubbed the Vicks on the bottom of my feet and then covered them with cotton socks. Nice. Try it… if you’ve been coughing, maybe the Vicks will help you, too!

(I must say, though, with the humidifier going in our room, I was dreaming that I was on an jetliner and the steward was telling the passengers that the cabin would soon be pressurized and… yeah… different jetliner dreams all night. )

How much is $53,000,000,000,000?

By now, you may have heard about our acclaimed documentary I.O.U.S.A., a film that boldly examines the rapidly growing national debt and its consequences for the United States and its citizens. The film has been a huge hit, getting rave reviews from Roger Ebert and others.Now, we proudly release a 30-minute condensed version of I.O.U.S.A. designed specifically for watching and sharing on the web – for free.

So if you haven’t had a chance to see the movie yet, watch the condensed I.O.U.S.A. today. If you’ve already seen it in a theater, check out the abbreviated version for a refresher. Then, tell your friends, your family, your Facebook friends and your Twitter followers about the staggering amount of money – $53 trillion – in financial obligations owed by the federal government to foreign investors and to every single American in the form of pensions, health benefits, Social Security and Medicare.

Then, visit http://www.IOUSAtheMovie.com and join us in our Fiscal Wake-Up Movement. Together, we can make American fiscal responsibility a reality.”

And Bernanke says there is no comparison between these days and the ‘Great Depression’ — and makes that claim bcz he is a “scholar of The Great Depressionon… written books about the Depression…” [ Right. ]

Thankful for the Thorns (and the storms I never see)

I’ve been thinking about Thanks giving and have been thanking the LORD for His timing, for His intervention, for His wise provision and for the storms I never see.

I was browsing my mails and as I was reading a few lines from a list mail from Nancy Lee DeMoss – I read a quote that was familiar to me:

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn! I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear. Teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow.
—George Matheson (1842–1906)

I was reminded of a story I received by email several years ago… (this is quoted in the following story as well) it, too, touched my heart as I had gone through a particularly trying year and was probably wondering what beauty would come from all those thorny spots. But, when the thorny times come — when the tough times leave me feeling scraped up, I’ve tried to remember that the beautiful blooms are at the ends of thorny canes and the sweetest fragrance comes from flowers on the bushes with the most thorns.

Here’s the story I was reminded to read…

The Thanksgiving Special

Author unknown

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze. Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, an automobile accident had stolen her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren’t enough, her husband’s company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What’s worse, Sandra’s friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.

Has she lost a child?—No. She has no idea what I’m feeling. Sandra shuddered. Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?—she wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” The flower shop clerk’s approach startled her. “Sorry,” said the clerk, whose name was Jenny. “I just didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.”

“I need an arrangement.”

“For Thanksgiving?”

Sandra nodded.

“Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving Special?” Jenny saw Sandra’s curiosity and continued. “I’m convinced that flowers tell stories, that each arrangement suggests a particular feeling. Are you looking for something that conveys gratitude this Thanksgiving?”

“Not exactly!” Sandra blurted. “Sorry, but in the last five months, everything that could have gone wrong has.”

Sandra regretted her outburst but was surprised when Jenny said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.” The door’s small bell suddenly rang.

“Barbara! Hi,” Jenny said. “I have your order ready. Just a moment.” She politely excused herself from Sandra and walked toward a small workroom. She quickly reappeared carrying a massive arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Only, the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped, no flowers. “Want this in a box?” Jenny asked.

Sandra watched for Barbara’s response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems and no flowers! She waited for laughter, for someone to notice the absence of flowers atop the thorny stems, but neither woman did.

“Yes, please. It’s exquisite,” said Barbara. “You’d think after three years of getting the Special, I’d not be so moved by its significance, but it’s happening again. My family will love this one. Thanks.”

Sandra stared. Why so normal a conversation about so strange an arrangement? she wondered. Sandra pointed and blurted out, “That lady just left with, uh…”

“Yes?”

“Well, she had no flowers!”

“Right, I cut off the flowers.”

“Off?”

“Off. Yep. That’s the special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.”

“But, why do people pay for that?” In spite of herself, Sandra chuckled.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I couldn’t leave this shop without knowing. I’d think about nothing else!”

“Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling very much like you feel today,” Jenny explained. “She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was taking drugs, and she faced major surgery.”

“Ouch!” said Sandra.

“That same year,” Jenny explained, “I had lost my husband. I assumed complete responsibility for the shop and for the first time, spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel.”

“What did you do?”

“I learned to be thankful for thorns.”

Sandra’s eyebrows lifted. “Thorns?”

“I’m a Christian. I’ve always thanked God for good things in life and I never thought to ask Him why good things happened to me. But when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask! It took time to learn that dark times are important. I had always enjoyed the ‘flowers’ of life but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.”

Sandra gasped. “A friend read that passage to me and I was furious! I guess the truth is I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.” She started to ask Jenny to go on when the door’s bell diverted their attention.

“Hey, Phil!” shouted Jenny as a balding, rotund man entered the shop. She softly touched Sandra’s arm and moved to welcome him. He pulled her to his side for a warm hug. “I’m here for twelve thorny long-stemmed stems!” Phil laughed, heartily.

“I figured as much,” said Jenny. “I’ve got them ready.” She lifted a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerated cabinet.

“Beautiful,” said Phil. “My wife will love them.”

Sandra could not resist asking. “These are for your wife?” Phil saw that Sandra’s curiosity matched his when he first heard of a thorn bouquet. “If you don’t mind my asking, why thorns?”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I’m glad you asked,” he said. “Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but we slogged through, problem by rotten problem. We rescued our marriage—our love, really. Last Thanksgiving I stopped in here for flowers. I must have mentioned surviving a tough process because Jenny told me that for a long time she had kept a vase of rose stems—stems! —as a reminder of what she had learned from thorny times. That was good enough for me. I took home stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific thorny situation and give thanks for what the problem taught us. I’m pretty sure this stem review is becoming a tradition.”

Phil paid Jenny, thanked her again, and as he left, said to Sandra, “I highly recommend the Special!”

“I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life,” Sandra said to Jenny.

“Well, my experience says that the thorns make the roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that we might know His love. Do not resent thorns.”
Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the accident she loosened her grip on resentment. “I’ll take twelve long-stemmed thorns, please.”

“I was hoping you would,” Jenny said. “I’ll have them ready in a minute. Then, every time you see them, remember to appreciate both good and hard times. We grow through both.”

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing but a pledge to work toward healing your heart. The first year’s arrangement is always on me.” Jenny handed a card to Sandra. “I’ll attach a card like this to your arrangement, but maybe you’d like to read it first. It’s a prayer that was written by a man who was blind. Go ahead, read it.”

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn! I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear. Teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow.
—George Matheson (1842–1906)

Jenny said, “Happy Thanksgiving, Sandra,” handing her the Special. “I look forward to our knowing each other better.”
Sandra smiled. She turned, opened the door and walked toward hope.