The Weight of Waiting

Waiting can be so heavy. 

Wait for an end to a hard day or a long ride. That phone just won't ring.  Change promises to come. Answers seem to have boarded a slow boat and you wonder if they're lost at sea.  

Whatever our wait, the weight of it can throw us off balance. But we don't have to fall. Tools are available to help carry the load.

I have this really great pastor who, among other things, teaches us how to apply scripture to our daily lives. Often I don't realize how I'm going to use the tools when I first get them, but it's pretty cool when I reach for something and find it in the toolbox.

One lesson I'm drawing on today is from the book of Matthew. Jesus said,

"29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  (Matthew 11)

Sounds good, right? Well, it sounded even better when I learned Jesus didn't say "yolk" and He wasn't referencing egg slime.

If I have this right, a yoke is a heavy crossbar used to pair animals, like oxen, to better work together. When the animals took on the yoke, it didn't relieve them of the work, but it joined them to pull the load. 

The yoke of Jesus isn't heavy. He did the hardest part. And under Him we are joined. Through Him our burdens are made lighter.

 Well, hello spiritual aha!

He gave even more than Himself. He gave us each other. If we open our eyes we can find someone who cares. We can work together, wait together. Share each other's burdens and joys. He gives us the tools. He helps us carry the weight.

Peace to you & Thanks for reading!!

The Heart of the Matter

There are so very many things for which I am thankful.
At this moment, one thing in particular is hypochondria.
You see, I woke up in the wee hours because it felt like
I was having a heart attack. So I decided to run with it.

No need to worry. I've learned over the years that these
"heart attacks" tend to go away after taking the right amount
of antacid. So I shant be bothering the folks at the emergency
room again tonight.

Still. I have to think. Delusional illness can be an incredible
blessing.

The past few months I've been in a bit of a funk. Okay, I've
been a cranky, whiny beast. My apologies to those stuck
putting up with me and to those I've neglected. Many thanks
to those who stick by me anyway.

Now I'm up at three in the morning having this crazy heart attack.
How appropriate. I'm awakened to the fact that I've been failing
my heart for these past months.  

I love when God spins a good metaphor.


I've let hard things break it, scary things shake it, and doubt came
in to take it. (Sorry. I can't resist a cheesy rhyme.)

Instead of using my heart for good stuff like love and kindness, worship,
grace, and the passionate pursuit of dreams, I let it wallow in funky town.
Turns out it's not as much fun as the song suggests.

I know a real heart attack is a terrible thing. I'm sorry it sometimes
takes an encounter with hypochondria to be reminded what a blessing
good health is. So today I am also praying for your heart, and physical
well being.

As for my metaphorical heart attack, I plan to be actively involved in the
recovery. There are so many good things to be done. This heart is in for
some serious exercise.

Saved

Bigger than this moment,

Beyond all yesterdays,

Take me to Your promise,

Rest in precious grace.

Relieve this day with mercy,

Tomorrow's out of reach,

Above alone and broken,

Into eternity.

Please

I don't need you to fix me,
Or even understand.
I just ask that you love me,
And maybe hold my hand.

See me when I'm hiding,
Let me know you're there.
Need me just a little,
Or more because I care.

Share your smiles here and there,
And tears about to fall,
Say, "Hey, you're not alone."
Or anything at all.

Above all, follow His call.

Sometimes it is so hard.

Blessings. Most of my prayers include thanks for the many blessings God has given me. Honestly though, when I say those words, I am often thinking about the blessings I like. It's easy to be thankful for a loving family, a warm home, a friend.

But everything is a blessing, really. Even the hard stuff. Sometimes we realize later. Sometimes not. But God is cool enough to keep blessing us anyway.

When He leads me I want to follow. More than I want to do anything on this earth, I want to follow Him. Right now, I am giving thanks for every blessing. Every blessing.

Later I may cry or whine a little. I could be wrong, but I think it's okay to allow real emotions to have their moments. But snot is messy and nobody wants to hear me whine so I keep on following.

Because I know in my heart that the very greatest blessing of all is not the gifts themselves but The One who loves me enough to give them. So whatever He wants I want. No gift should be put above The One who gives it.


Right now I'm indulging in a moment of peace. God is reminding me He knows what He is doing. There's great comfort in knowing whatever I do today He'll know what to do with it.

My hope is to make His job as easy as possible.




Amen

SOME EVERYDAY TESTIMONIES OF AN ORDINARY HOUSEWIFE

Chapter One

The Burning Station Wagon

"There must be something wrong with that light." At least, that seemed like the easiest answer. I filled the gas tank before we left, I even had the oil checked. The possibility of another car repair bill made me squirm. The red warning light mocked me from the dashboard.

 I continued the trip down Interstate 81 with an uneasy eye keeping watch on gadgets I usually ignored. The light went out. It came back on. Home was still an hour away. In the seat beside me, my daughter, Jordan, sang with the radio and played with her cell phone. She wanted to get home to watch her favorite show. A quick stop might be tolerated- as long as she could get an iced mocha latte.

 I looked in my rearview mirror to the back seat and saw Thomas stick his thumb in his mouth. He didn’t seem worried at all. His four year old mind had yet to learn such concepts as “doubt” and “danger”. Heck, he was probably watching the skyline for golden arches so he could chow some fries.

 A fight with my husband, Ed, weighted my mind. He’d be pretty ticked off if I had to call him for a roadside rig to get us home now. I shouldn’t have hung up on him when he called me at my mother’s house. He shouldn’t have yelled at me though.

 Maybe if I could get the car home he could change a belt or something. I pulled into the passing lane. Surely our family’s station wagon could go a little faster than the dump truck up ahead. As we tried to pass the truck, the temperature gauge bounced toward “H”. The car kicked into slow motion. Those sharing the road saw fit to pass on the right and I couldn’t get back over to the driving lane, much less the right shoulder of the road.

Steam seeped from underneath the hood. We couldn’t keep moving. Traffic to the right of us flowed without mercy and we were forced to rest on the narrow left shoulder of the highway. I popped my hood open and a rush of smoke poured out. I am no mechanic, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.

I called Ed. Jordan unbuckled Thomas and got him out. The shoulder of the road was about one roadkill skeleton wider than the car. I'd rather not further detail how I happened to gauge that fact.

 The legal speed limit on that stretch of highway is 65mph. Whoosh, this speed seems much faster when you are on a narrow patch of gravel between a busy highway and a ditch. Ed was at least an hour south. My parents were an hour north.

The smoke grew. We ran when we saw the fire. I'm not sure where we thought we were going, but we had to get away from a potential explosion. Thick black smoke. Flames. Nowhere to run. I never had a moment tell me more powerfully that there was only one thing to do. So we did it.

I stood on the side of Interstate 81 with my four year old son in my arms and my teenaged daughter at my side and we bowed our heads and prayed, "God, please save us."

We had barely lifted our heads when a pickup truck pulled off the road in front of us. He helped us in and took us to a safer spot on the other side of the highway. We watched from a distance as fire trucks came. Soon our car was another skeletal roadkill.

Thomas was shaking so much a State Trooper wrapped him in his jacket. A tow truck took what was left of our car. We got a ride to the nearest rest stop to wait for Ed.

At the rest stop the vending machine was kind to us. I think Skittles can taste like a miracle sometimes.

Then a mouse ran right past my feet and I screamed. Seriously? I have the nerve to be afraid of a mouse after this day? Yes. I'm sorry to say, I did. Thomas had the nerve to laugh at me for screaming. Jordan still wanted her latte. Ed and I would eventually get back to that fight. Our normal lives made a quick rebound. 

But when we got home that night Thomas burst through the door with an announcement he was excited to share, "We prayed and God saved us!"

And we keep praying. And He keeps saving us.

Amen!

As I later learned through the Book of Exodus, God got the attention of Moses through a burning bush. God gave Moses a mission, told him it would be hard, and He promised to be with him. Honestly, I sort of heard about that over the years but it never really sunk in. I couldn't tell you much about it. I can, however, tell you that as I sat in the back of a stranger's pickup truck- with my children safely beside me- watching the station wagon go up in flames, God certainly had gotten my attention.