Skinny Squirrel

This is our dog, Bessie. Bess is a Brittany Spaniel who was born to hunt. She is a natural pointer and extremely intelligent. Bessie is a people pleasing sweetheart with a personality to match. It only takes one look at her ears to read her mood. Relaxed ears = relaxed mood. Fluffed up ears = ticked off. Perky ears = happy. Droopy, limp ears = naughty and knows it.


Bessie makes her dwelling in our pole barn. Don't feel bad for her. She's got it pretty darn good out there. She has lots of company. In fact, the barn is my husband's second home.


In good weather, I routinely walk Bess on a trail that circles our property. Since no leash is required, Bess wanders about following the plethora of scents that abound in the woods. Bessie frequently uncovers precious treasure.

Dog treasure. Mice. Birds. Plain old stink.

Her latest treasure: a black squirrel.

Weeks ago, Bess pranced up to me with her ears perky, proudly displaying the fat, black squirrel in her mouth. How the squirrel met its demise is unknown. I'd like to think it died a natural death, not a death at the paws and teeth of my pet. All I know for sure is that on this day, she began a new walk ritual. Her ritual goes like this: Dig up squirrel. Prance happily. Find new hiding spot. Bury squirrel.

For three weeks, Bessie has not deviated from this ritual. It seems that squirrel has been buried on every foot of our property. For three weeks, the squirrel has diminished in girth. For three weeks, the squirrel has increased in disgusting odor.

For three weeks, Bess has been consumed. She cannot control herself.

I have some stinking treasure in my life too. Treasure I bury. Treasure I constantly dig back up. My stinky treasure involves my mouth. More specifically my words. My speech and words don't always reflect the life I claim in Jesus. I know it's my nemesis, so when I wake each morning, I say a prayer that goes something like this: 'Please, God, help me to speak only those things that are uplifting. Help me not to get caught up in gossip and help my lips bring words of encouragement."

Yep. And that lasts until I walk from my house. And then, so frequently, I can't contain myself. I dig up that nastiness and participate in unhealthy talk.

Paul talks about his trouble with stinky ways in Romans 7:

"14 We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. 15 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. 16 And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17 As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18 For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.[c] For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

21 So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. 22 For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; 23 but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 24 What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? 25 Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature[d] a slave to the law of sin."

Ah, yes. I love verse 25! "Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!" I can't do it on my own, but only through Christ Jesus!  Yes!

As for Bessie? The black squirrel is gone. And today when I let her out, she returned with a new prize...a fat, BROWN squirrel. It never ends.

Change of a lifetime

We celebrated Easter a little over a week ago. Since then, my devotions seem to focus on new life. The new life we have as believers. Resurrected life.

Back in December, at the beginning of what turned out to be a record setting winter, I wrote about Holes. In a blast to the past, I'm sharing a photo from that blog post here:

In case you're wondering, these are bulbs. Tulip bulbs. Planted in December.

And today, here is that same soil:

Yep. Hard to believe those brown, egg-shaped "rocks" turned into budding tulips that will burst forth with vibrant color in a few days. There is no comparison between bulb and flower.

Earthly body. Resurrected body. Jesus' death, resurrection and ascension give us the promise of eternal life. There's no way to know what change will occur, but we are promised a miraculous transformation. While mysterious, the change is guaranteed as explained in I Corinthians 15:35-38, here from The Message:

"Some skeptic is sure to ask, “Show me how resurrection works. Give me a diagram; draw me a picture. What does this ‘resurrection body’ look like?” If you look at this question closely, you realize how absurd it is. There are no diagrams for this kind of thing. We do have a parallel experience in gardening. You plant a “dead” seed; soon there is a flourishing plant. There is no visual likeness between seed and plant. You could never guess what a tomato would look like by looking at a tomato seed. What we plant in the soil and what grows out of it don’t look anything alike. The dead body that we bury in the ground and the resurrection body that comes from it will be dramatically different."

Plant the seed of God in your heart. Water the seed with the proclamation, "Jesus is my Savior." The flourishing plant is guaranteed in the season to come.

Happy Spring!

Dirty Dustmop

Saturdays are house cleaning days. Tub cleaning. Bathroom scrubbing. Vacuuming. Laundry. Dusting.

Ah, dusting. I despise dusting. I detest dusting. I plain and simply, hate dusting.

I blame my mom.

When I was a kid, my sisters and I were assigned weekly chores. My chore, among others was - you guessed it - dusting. Now that I think back to those days, it really couldn't have been that big of a deal. We had a family room, living room and dining room, but I really don't remember much about the actual chore of dusting. I guess I developed the loathing due to the fact that dusting was my weekly "have to do."

Fast forward to present day. Since dusting is the dreaded chore, I've tried various methods. I've tried the polish and wipe approach. That is way too time consuming. I've tried the dry Swiffer cloth with its dust-grabbing fibers. This works well but involves too much bending and the texture of the cloth bugs me. My current method involves a microfiber hand held dust mop. This method is simple and quick and much to my liking.


There is one draw back. The instructions supplied with my duster recommend cleaning the removable duster in soapy water. In my opinion, having to wash the duster after use kinda defeats the purpose of "quick and easy." Unfortunately, this fact alone makes it extremely easy for me to disregard the washing step. And, as you can guess, this is NOT a smart idea.

And so it was, that this past Saturday, I lost the war on dust. I pushed the limits and I knew it. I thought, or maybe hoped, I could get one more dusting from my visibly dirty duster. Nada. Nope. Didn't happen. By the time I reached my loft railing, my duster was actually spreading dust instead of picking it up. My loathing, my hastiness, and my lack of following directions did me in.



Sin is my life's dust. It builds up in the blink of an eye. And boy, does it need cleaning. I know for a fact that my sin demands more than a weekly cleaning. A daily scrubbing won't even suffice. I'm sure my sin probably needs several cleanings per hour!

The thing is: I'm not able to wipe myself clean. Confessing my sin to my husband, or a friend, won't take my sin away. Nope. Only one method will make me squeaky clean. I need to go to the One. The One who took the humongous weight of my sin, your sin; in fact the sin of the entire world to ensure my cleanliness.

Jesus. My Savior.

Spit on. Cursed at. Beaten. Tortured. Kicked. Dragged. Nailed, yes nailed to a cross. Crucified. For me. A wretch. Unworthy.

As we enter into Holy Week, the words of Isaiah 53 bring me to my knees in thanksgiving:

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.."

Jesus took my dirt. He wipes away even the deepest yuck. And I'm clean...oh I'm clean.

Lighten the load...

Today was an incredible day with temperatures flirting the sixty degree mark for the first time in four and a half months! One walk through campus bore testament to the weather.

Bare legs.

T-shirts.

Shorts.

Flip flops.

Students, faculty and staff alike shed jackets, boots and sweaters.

The burden of winter was lifted and the entire campus felt free. Alive. Rejoicing in the gift of new life.

All it took was a change of clothing, or rather a shedding of clothes to feel a new freedom.

A change in wardrobe starts with opening up the closet of our lives.

Colossians 3 (here from the Message):

"You’re done with that old life. It’s like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you’ve stripped off and put in the fire. Now you’re dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom-made by the Creator, with his label on it. All the old fashions are now obsolete...From now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ.

So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it."

Not sure how to change clothes?

Acts 2:38-39

Peter said, “Change your life. Turn to God and be baptized, each of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, so your sins are forgiven. Receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is targeted to you and your children, but also to all who are far away—whomever, in fact, our Master God invites.”

I'm celebrating and changing my wardrobe. How about you?

Manna from Heaven

"Ugh!" It was the first thought that popped into my head this morning when I opened the garage door. Snow on the driveway. Again. I feel trapped in a snow version of Groundhog Day; only minus Bill Murray's sense of humor.

Let's face it: we're winter weary. We've had months of unceasing snow. We dream of green grass and warm temps. We long to exit our homes without having to don down jackets and thermal boots.

So this morning, my first thought was a grumbling response. And then I was struck, almost as if literally by a two-by-four. I was reminded of the wandering Israelites in the desert. God provided for their every need. He sent daily bread, manna, for them every morning. And what did they do? They grumbled and complained. They grumbled to God in spite of his care.

From Numbers, chapter 11: "Now the people complained about their hardships in the hearing of the Lord...the rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! 5 We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. 6 But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”

And so it is with me. Way too frequently, I grumble. I complain. And this morning, God helped me realize that rather than grumbling, I should be thankful.

So here goes. Here is a list of things for which I should give thanks on this, the 24th day of March, 2014:

• A warm house. I have a roof over my head. I am not homeless.
• A down jacket (or two) plus boots (times a half dozen). I am protected from the cold and my feet stay dry.
• Flannel sheets. Enough said.
• Hot coffee, plus a husband who brews it for me each morning.
• A dependable car to get me to work each day. Ditto for the awesomely stable job that awaits me each work day.
• Health. I should cherish that as a gift. 
• Faith. I have a God who patiently listens to me grumble, and prompts me to give thanks.

I should, and could ramble on and on about the many things I take for granted. Instead, I'll lift those up in a prayer of thanksgiving to the One who deserves my praise.

In the meantime, I will rejoice in this day. I will rejoice in the warmth of the sunshine, and I will thank God that each new day brings us one day closer to the promise of spring.

Psalm 86:
11 Teach me your way, Lord,
    that I may rely on your faithfulness;
give me an undivided heart,
    that I may fear your name.
12 I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart;
    I will glorify your name forever.

March Madness

March. The month for which college basketball fans eagerly await. A month chocked full with late night game watching, sleepy-eyed work mornings and bracket rivalries. Weeks of great basketball. Days of watching players overcome adversity to make buzzer-beating, game-winning shots.

Our family has a long history of bracket game play. We always play for a lofty prize. In fact, for years, the winning family member claimed a 12-pack of pop at the losers' expense! Actually, I think the biggest prize is the trash-talking, bragging rights. Yep. Happens every year.

When it comes to filling out our brackets, we each have our own philosophy. Randy follows his gut and is loyal to his favorite teams. Barry uses his immense basketball knowledge and statistical brain. Lorie uses a haphazard system, which may include team colors, favorite college location or mascot in making her choices. I tend to look at overall record and win streaks as factors in my bracket selection process.

But once the games start, we all tend to have one thing in common. Even though our brackets may not reflect it, we cheer for the underdog. The long shot. The Cinderella team.

Upsets are what make NCAA college tournament play exciting. It's great watching a low seed take out a higher seeded, highly regarded, hyped team. The intensity and determination of a team making their first appearance in the tourney is energizing. We root for those teams to overcome the statistical improbability and not only win, but win big!

Jesus was a champion for the underdog too. He rooted for the poor, the widowed and the sick. He stood up for children.

From Luke 9:
47 Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child and had him stand beside him. 48 Then he said to them, “Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest.”

The March basketball season is fleeting, but outside my family room walls, life marches on. I need to be better at following Jesus' example. I need to do my part to make a difference in the lives of the world's underdogs.

Go Dawgs!

A Final Lesson from Jamaica

I've lost track of the number of times we've been to Jamaica. I'm spoiled. I know. We've been blessed.

Over the years, we've vacationed in a number of different areas. Ocho Rios. Runaway Bay. Duncans. Our favorite by far? Ocho Rios. We've also tried different accommodations. Large Hotel. Mid-sized hotel. Villa with staff. Villa without staff. Small inn. Our favorite? The small inn.

We've also had many traveling companions. Close friends. More close friends. Our kids. My parents along with our kids. The two of us. Our favorite? That's tough; each trip is full of sweet memories.


My dad passed away nearly eight years ago. He loved Jamaica. He loved being there with us. He frequently shared the same favorite story over and over, yet relished the joy in every telling. I sure miss him.

I must admit that each trip to Jamaica brings with it the thought of family.


Family.


Family in Jamaica includes my own biological family, but it also includes my adopted Jamaican family. I didn't get their permission to share their photos online, but I can't imagine that they'd object. Here are some photos pulled from my Jamaican family photo album:

Isn't it great, that when we are children of God, we are all members of the same family? I'm blessed to call everyone pictured here family.

From Ephesians 2 (Living Bible):

19 Now you are no longer strangers to God and foreigners to heaven, but you are members of God’s very own family, citizens of God’s country, and you belong in God’s household with every other Christian.

One of Jamaica's advertising campaigns says it best, "One Love."