Focal point...

If you have ever given birth, chances are you took a childbirth class. And if, once upon a time, you took a childbirth class, you probably learned breathing techniques. And if you learned breathing techniques, you probably contemplated and encountered your valuable focal point.

Your focal point.

Simple stated, your childbirth focal point is exactly what it says it is. It's the point, or object, or thing or person on which you concentrate or place your entire focus. Placing all thought, emotion and feeling aside, your focal point demands your entire attention. Your focal point's objective is to bring you to a place where pain, self, others, and essentially the entire outside world, becomes secondary.

Seems simple, right?

Wrong.

Presenting...my focal point:

This odd little stuffed animal claims to be made by the Plush Toy Company, Incorporated of Floral Park, New York, in the good old U.S. of A.  He is anything but plush. How he came into my possession is fuzzy, but I'm sure my hubby either won him at the county fair, or from one of the coin-operated metal crane-scoop games. I must have kept this strange, red misfit with the apple on his chest for sentimental reasons because, obviously, it wasn't for his soft fluffiness or charming good looks.

At any rate, this skinny fellow with the one-thread whisker and lopsided ears seemed to make the perfect candidate for the focal point award. Now maybe it was his sheer goofiness, or possibly it was my lack of determination, but most probably it was the sheer pain of childbirth that caused my attention to shift from my focal point to myself. Not long into the throes of childbirth, I had completely lost focus.

Last week, my daily reading, dated January 29, in Sarah Young's, Jesus Calling devotional began with these words:

KEEP YOUR FOCUS ON ME. I have gifted you with amazing freedom, including the ability to choose the focal point of your mind.

Ah, so true.

Every day, I need to reset my focal point. I need to focus my eyes on the Lord above, who has His best in mind for me. It is easy to turn my focus inward. I frequently allow the circumstances around me to control the focus of my mind. The behavior of people around me, my health, my family and my emotions can just plain get the best of me and leave the worst of me exposed.

Over and over again, God gently reminds me to come to him. To call out to him. To focus on him.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  2 Corinthians 4:18 

And we have the best example of all to follow in Jesus. His focus was laser-sharp on our Father:

Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!  Hebrews 12:1-3 (The Message)

Dear God,
Help me to focus on you and only you. Help me to make you my focal point so that you bring me to a place where pain, self, others, and essentially the entire outside world, becomes secondary to you. Only you.
Amen

Pop Secret...

Orville Redenbacher. Act II. Jolly Time. And my personal favorite - Pop Secret. 

Yes, it's popcorn. That delicious, fluffy, sit-on-the-couch-and-watch-a-movie, snack.

Preparing popcorn has gotten easier over the years. Back when I was a kid, we melted butter in a pan over the open flame of our gas stove. We added popcorn kernels, shook the pan back and forth and waited patiently. We had a big aluminum lid for the pan and as the kernels popped, the lid would raise higher and higher. After we transferred the popcorn into a gigantic bowl, we melted more butter and drizzled that over the popcorn.  Mm good.

Then came the Jiffy Pop days. These one-use disposable aluminum pans were pre-packaged with popcorn and stove ready, but the heating procedure was the same. Jiffy Pop was a luxury for our family, because it was way more expensive than bags of popcorn kernels, so we rarely enjoyed this treat.

Air poppers made their arrival on the scene when my hubby and I were newlyweds. Making popcorn using this method was entertaining and messy. I recall watching popcorn fly not only into a strategically placed bowl underneath, but also everywhere else, littering counter and floor.

When microwave popcorn arrived on the scene, the stress and mess of popcorn was over. Simply placing a bag "this side up" and heating in the microwave yielded delicious, no mess popcorn in a variety of buttery flavors. Butter. Double Butter. Movie Theater Butter. No fat added. Ha!

The aroma of popcorn is unmistakable. The saltiness undeniable. The flavor remarkable.

The other night as I enjoyed my Pop Secret Movie Theater Butter popcorn, I pondered popcorn. Weird? Yes. But ponder I did nonetheless. I wondered how something so hard, so tough and so ordinary, could turn into something so soft, so fluffy and so spectacular. Naturally, I searched on my favorite's website and here's what I found under their FAQs:

A combination of heat and steam is needed to make the popcorn “pop”. The inside of a popcorn kernel has a small amount of moisture that is surrounded by a hard coating. When the Pop Secret bag is heated in the microwave and the temperature reaches around 450°F, the moisture in the kernel turns to steam and the kernel explodes or pops.

Popcorn has an uncanny likeness to becoming a Christian. Our hard, tough, ordinary hearts contain small amounts of moisture. When heated either by the tough circumstances of life, or by the simple knowledge of knowing there is more to life than ourselves, we find ourselves ripe for change. Our appliance for change is Jesus. Jesus transforms our tough, hard hearts into soft, pliable ones. He adds his aroma and saltiness to each of us. We are changed in an instant.

We are the salt of the earth. We are the aroma of Christ. Our flavor can make a remarkable difference in the world.

As far as God is concerned there is a sweet, wholesome fragrance in our lives. It is the fragrance of Christ within us, an aroma to both the saved and the unsaved all around us. 2 Corinthians 2:15 (Living Bible)

 “Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage." Matthew 5:13 (The Message)

God pause...

I've learned a lot in the past thirty years. I've learned a lot about myself. I've learned a whole lot more about God. Thirty years ago, I believed in coincidence. When I was twenty five, I thought that chance encounters were just that. Thirty years ago, I would smile when an out-of-touch friend called "just because" when I was having a bad day and I would think, "What are the odds of that?"

In the years since, I have learned to look for God in the circumstances of my everyday life.  I realize his intimate care in orchestrating and protecting me in my day to day activities. I no longer see interruptions and unexpected delays as inconveniences and irritants. I see these events as, what I like to call, God pauses.

Yesterday, I encountered a dual purpose God pause.

First, a brief history. Over the past year and a half, I've spent a lot of time doing what many fifty-somethings are doing:  caring for an aging parent. Over the last eighteen months, my mom has endured two back surgeries, two foot surgeries and suffered multiple mini-strokes. These health issues demanded endless doctor's visits, daily phone calls and hours spent running errands. Last week, my sisters and I discussed talking with my mom about the possibility of moving to a senior independent living community. We decided if the opportunity arose, any one of us would broach the subject with mom, otherwise we would talk to her together as a group this summer.

Yesterday, I met my mom at her podiatrist for what was yet to be another setback. The latest infection needed an antibiotic for which the doctor called in a prescription. Mom would need to stay home bound for the remainder of the week. As we exited the doctor's office, I spotted a bench in the lobby area of the main building. I felt compelled to sit there with my mom. Shaking off the feeling, I continued to walk with my mom toward the exit. Yet again I felt drawn to the bench. This time, I gave in and invited my mom to sit and have a chat.

"This is my opportunity to talk to mom about independent living," I thought. We sat on that bench and had a great conversation about this new housing possibility. But it turns out that while God afforded us the time for our chat, he also had another plan for this fifteen minute interruption. His plan was to keep my mom out of harm's way. As it turns out, if mom had left immediately following her appointment, she would have arrived at and would have been waiting for her prescription at precisely the same time that a robbery was taking place at that exact location.

Coincidence? Hardly. God pause? Exactly.

The next time you receive an unexpected phone call at just the right time; the next time you're angry at being delayed by a long line or that long coal train or your child taking forever to tie his shoes; the next time you're passed up for the new job or promotion; thank God for his God pause. 

He's got you covered.

2 Samuel 22: 31-32

“As for God, his way is perfect:
    The Lord’s word is flawless;
    he shields all who take refuge in him.
For who is God besides the Lord?
    And who is the Rock except our God?

Crafty Christmas

I started a Christmas tradition many years ago, partially to satisfy my crafting obsession, but mostly because I love to give gifts. I make and share a simple gift with my coworkers, family and friends. The gift is usually a Christmas ornament, but I've also given display pieces and wall plaques.

This tradition is an annual process that begins as early as January, but typically gears up in October. The first step is brainstorming. This is the hmm stage. I peruse. I scrounge. I ponder. Hours are spent at Hobby Lobby or the other place my husband has jokingly dubbed, "my boyfriend's house." Michaels.

Following the AHA! moment, the busy time of buying and gathering supplies for the chosen project commences. The testing process begins in earnest with a prototype or two or twelve. I tend to be a perfectionist, which in retrospect, is a good thing. Some of my best ideas have come from the frustration of a crumpled paper or a crushed object that ends up being the absolute perfect part of the finished piece. Hours squirreled away in my craft room produce just the right gift for the season.

Production begins on the dozens of gifts to be crafted. Each gift is lovingly pieced together and critiqued when finished. The final step in the entire process is gift wrapping. The finishing touch of wrapping is almost as important as the gift itself. Great care and planning is involved for the protection and display of the gift itself.

Over the years, projects have included Christmas trees and jingle bells, vintage stars and snowmen, but one ornament seems to be a favorite. Each year, without fail, a coworker or friend will bring up the "Names of God" ornament. These ornaments were hand lettered with some of my favorite Biblical references to our Triune God.

And that's where I'd like us to rest. I'd like us to reflect on Christmas Eve. To ponder the Christ child and his gift of life.

Guide. Maker. God. Potter. Lamb of God. Redeemer. Living Water. Comforter. Alpha and Omega. Everlasting Father. Mighty God. I AM. Holy One. Lamp. King of Kings. Lord of Lords. Master. Creator. Shield. The Way, the Truth and the Life. Cornerstone. Head. Messiah. Pearl of Great Price. Hope. Prince of Peace. Deliverer. Savior. Jesus. Friend. Life.

Merry Christmas, dear friend. Merry Christmas.

Vintage Treasures...

I am obsessed with all things old. It started with my favorite childhood things. The singing angels who adorned the mantel in my parent's home during Christmas. The Terri Lee dolls that I played with as a child. The handmade styrofoam sleigh and reindeer my grandma made years before I was born.




As my family learned of my obsession, I inherited these favorites plus a plethora of other antique items. A family Bible. My aunt's nativity set. My grandma's carnival glass bowls. Volumes of vintage books and historical newspapers. Over time, my obsession became a full-blown addiction. An addiction to vintage Christmas ornaments.

It all began quite innocently. I acquired a dozen or so of my grandmother's ornaments after she passed away. No one else in my family was interested in these colorful, yet blemished, beauties. I thought it a shame to toss these delicate orbs, so naturally they found their way into my home and onto our family Christmas tree. Over the years, I've stumbled across ornaments in thrift stores, I've found boxes on eBay and bought cartons of Shiny Brites at summer garage sales where, gasp(!) other folks thought their worth at a mere buck a box.




My pretties come in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some are round. Others teardrop. Still others are bell-shaped. Some are striped. Others solid. These precious ornaments are clothed in various shades of blue, pink, turquoise and green. Each ornament is special. Each ornament is cherished.

During this advent season, I'm reminded of the reason for this season. It's not about presents. It's not about food. It's not even about the gathering of family and friends. And while you may need to search diligently in the midst of the glamour and glitz to find him. He's there.

Jesus.

Jesus came for his precious treasure. He came to rescue the outcasts, the blemished, the seemingly worthless, rejected, black sheep of the world. He sought me out. He searched for you. His addiction is our salvation. And the amazing part is, he went through an even greater rejection because of his love for us.

Isaiah 55:1-6 says it so well.  Here from The Message:

1 Who believes what we’ve heard and seen?
    Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?
2-6 The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
    a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
    nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
    a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
    We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
    our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
    that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
    that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
    Through his bruises we get healed.
We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.
    We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,
    on him, on him.

And the end of verse 12 says it in such simple terms:

he took up the cause of all the black sheep.

While we celebrate the birth of Jesus this Christmas, let's rejoice! Rejoice in the fact that our Savior came for us! Rejoice in the knowledge that he intimately loves us. Rejoice in the hope that he gives us - the hope of eternal life!

He is the ultimate gift. Reach out and open the present he offers. His presence. His life.

Merry Christmas, dear friend.

Just like everyone else...

Just a few short weeks ago, my hubby and I were basking in the warm South Carolina sunshine. It already seems like ages ago. Insert sigh here.

While on vacation, we spend much of our time walking the wide, sandy beach located mere steps from our condo. We enjoy walking near the water's edge where we can scan the ocean for dolphins or where I can search the beach for seashell treasure. While Hilton Head Island isn't a seashell hot spot, we usually find an abundance of sand dollars and smaller scallop shells.

Most of the beach areas are relatively shell free, but I'm fascinated by the way the tide brings mounds of shells to other areas of the shore in sporadic bunches.

At first glance, these piles of shells seem to contain a bland assortment of broken shells.

Upon close inspection and lots of rummaging, I find that the bland assortment is anything but. Shells of all sizes and colors are hidden in a "Where's Waldo" seascape. Each tiny shell is perfectly formed. Delicate. Intricate. Simple. Beautiful.



Human nature nags us to conform and be like everyone else. How many times do we want, strive for or dress according to the what the masses dictate? We think of people the same way we think of seashells. At first glance, we all seem to be the same. Ordinary. Plain. Just like everyone else.

Nothing could be further from the truth. God made us his special creations. Perfectly formed. Delicate. Intricate. Simple. Beautiful. Formed carefully by his hand.

Thank God for who you are. Be who God created you to be. Loved. Special. Unique.

Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! It is amazing to think about. Your workmanship is marvelous—and how well I know it. Psalm 139:14 Living Bible

Riding out the storm...

I'm blessed. I know it. For ten days, I vacationed with my hubby in Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It was heavenly. We didn't have an itinerary. We didn't make plans. We did exactly as we pleased.

Our vacations are simple. Our vacations are based on the three Rs.

Relax. Refresh. Rejoice.

We relax by parking our behinds in chairs on the sandy, sun drenched beach. We refresh by walking for miles beside, and sometimes in, the sparkling Atlantic Ocean. We rejoice by enjoying the amazing beauty of God's creation.

We've been to the island several times and are always amazed at the huge expanse of beach during low tide. This year, however, we noticed large amounts of ocean debris that littered the upper beach areas. We're talking mounds and mounds of straw-like branches.

It turns out that while October's Hurricane Joaquin veered away from the Eastern coastline, the outlying winds churned the depths of the ocean and by sheer force carried palm trees, building debris and huge amounts of cord grass onto the shore. Because it's quite unsightly, we wondered why it hadn't been removed. That question was answered by one of the locals who told us that, while the grass is not very attractive, it is unlawful to remove it. It is likely that over time, sand will cover and build over the cord grass and form new dunes. Dunes that will offer protection from future storms.

Life sure mimics that storm-battered coastline. The churning storms of life bring trials and suffering. We are assaulted by the sheer force of illness, death, job loss and stress. The "debris" left behind looks ugly and oppressive. We want that debris removed so life is clean and pretty.

But wait! God's Word helps us understand suffering and trials.  From Psalm 62:5-8 (Living Bible):

But I stand silently before the Lord, waiting for him to rescue me. For salvation comes from him alone.  Yes, he alone is my Rock, my rescuer, defense, and fortress—why then should I be tense with fear when troubles come?

My protection and success come from God alone. He is my refuge, a Rock where no enemy can reach me.  O my people, trust him all the time. Pour out your longings before him, for he can help! 

And then from I Peter 4:12-13 (The Message):

Friends, when life gets really difficult, don’t jump to the conclusion that God isn’t on the job. Instead, be glad that you are in the very thick of what Christ experienced. This is a spiritual refining process, with glory just around the corner.

Storms come. Debris clutters the beach of life. And all the while, the dune of protection is being built. as promised by God. Seek refuge in him.