Palm Sunday

     In Mark 11:1-11  We read about Jesus entering Jerusalem on what became known as Palm Sunday during the week of His crucifixion.

     As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethpage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden…”When they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks over it, He sat on it.  Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields.  Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted, “Hosanna!”  “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”  “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”  “Hosanna in the highest!”
Jesus entered Jerusalem and went to the temple.  He looked around at everything, but since it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the Twelve.

     Jesus the Son of God entered the Temple as a somewhat notorious carpenter from Galilee. He looked around at everything, taking it all in.  The Temple would have been crowded with people who had come to make a Passover sacrifice. There would have been the buzzing hum of the crowd,  punctuated by the cries from  the moneychangers.  Lambs bleating.  Smoke rising from the sacrificial altars.  
     When Jesus, the Son of God, entered the Temple,  there were parts of it that would have been barred to him.  Only a person making a sacrifice could be admitted into the Court of the Priests, and then only to sacrifice their lamb.  The person would then be pushed aside to give room for the next person to make their sacrifice.  But Jesus, who was Himself the lamb, did not bring a sacrifice, and so the Court of the Priests would have been closed off to Him.
     The most sacred space of all within the Temple, the inner sanctuary, the Holy of Holies, was also prohibited to Jesus.  Only the High Priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies.
     Jesus entered the Temple and looked around and because it was late, He left.  And it was late.  The crucifixion loomed just a few short days away.  At Jesus’ death the Temple curtain in the Holy of Holies would be torn in two by the very hand of God, signifying that nothing can separate us from the love of God.
     Because of the sacrifice of Jesus on a lonesome cross, every one of us has access to the very heart of God.  We can fall into the embrace of a loving God through our forgiveness in Jesus.  Sometimes we like to think that God only sees our cleaned up church selves, but He also sees our Monday morning pre-coffee self, too.  He sees all the secret places of our heart.

  Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, the first born from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.  To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood, and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father - to him be glory and power for ever and ever!  Amen.   ~Rev.  1:5-6

     Won’t you allow Jesus in to the temple of your heart?  The time is growing late.

Four Things I Learned in January

1.    I love my husband and would marry him all over again.  We celebrated 35 years of marriage this month.

2.   In the United States 1 out of 3 woman and 1 out of 2 men will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetimes.  Autism, learning disabilities, and fertility issues are increasing.  Serious illnesses are impacting our children.

      Did you know that the United States has not passed a federal law to regulate the ingredients used in personal care products, shampoo, lotion, and cosmetics since 1938.  The European Union has spent the past two decades banning or restricting more than 1,300 ingredients, the US has only banned 11 to date.  Companies are allowed to use known toxins, ingredients that have been linked to cancer, reproductive issues,and  hormone disruption, without telling us, and can legally say they are following the regulations!

     As a breast cancer survivor, I was appalled to learn this.  It is time for a change. As wives and mothers, we need to be better informed so that we can make healthier choices for our families.
     Two things you can do right now:

     a.  Download the FREE Skin Deep app to your phone.  You can scan the barcode of a product and receive its safety rating.  For those with allergies, the database will let you know what products contain it, other names for it, and alternatives.  I have been scanning the products on the counters in my house.  Some real surprises.  The video below is an Overview of the Environmental Working Group (EWG).  The EWG sponsors Skin Deep.

     b.  Read Little Changes:Tales of a Reluctant Home Eco-Momics Pioneer  (affiliate link).  Kristi Marsh is a breast cancer survivor who shows how making little changes in choices of products and foods that you bring into your home can help to ease the toxic load on ourselves and our families.

3.  My daughter, Patty made these awesome Minion Cupcakes for a church social.  They were the cutest things.  You could add little footballs and green icing to serve them for Super Bowl Sunday.  So cute!

4.   I loved How 936 Pennies Will Forever Change How You Parent, by Eryn Lynum.  A wonderful post about the time we are privileged to have raising our children.  Eryn was given a mason jar containing 936 pennies.  One penny for each week that she has to raise her son.  She tells of investing those pennies wisely.  How heavy the weight of responsibility represented by the jar and how quickly it empties.  Her post is beautiful.  It is well worth the time it takes to visit.

     What did you learn?

Anniversary, 35 Years

     Happy 35th Anniversary to my precious husband.
     Last July, Pat and I and our younger three children drove south to visit our son, James, and his wife in South Carolina.  We left my parents house in Virginia while it was still dark because a hurricane was due to make landfall and travel up the eastern coast.  We hoped to drive south of the hurricane.  That worked as planned.
     We reached that wonderful tourist trap, South of the Border, in time for a much needed rest stop.  We wandered around their gift shop and then decided to head across the street to the Waffle House for breakfast.  You KNOW you are in the South when you see a Waffle House or a church on every corner.
     We piled back out of the car with visions of buttery syrup covered waffles in mind.  The five of us walked in.  It was July.  It was hot.  We all had on shorts.
     We were greeted by three Waffle House waitresses leaning over the counter.  These Southern ladies had eyes for only one person in the crowd.
    “OOOWWEE, Sir.  You have some mighty fine legs.  Mighty fine.”  Pat laughed.  The other two ladies giggled appreciatively and continued to goggle at the legs on display.
     I thought, “Hello, did you notice the three kids and the WIFE that came in with those mighty fine legs?”
     But wait there’s more.  The waitress leaned even further over the counter still peering at those mighty fine legs, “Why, those legs should be in a magazine.”
     Pat made a leg at his admirers and laughingly wondered what kind of magazine it would be.  Then we were escorted to a table and those mighty fine legs were tucked under it.  Our waffles were sweeter for teasing Pat.
     A marriage is made of a million little shared moments.  Those small everyday things.  The kiss in the morning. The look across a room.  The tender touch.  Singing side by side in church.  There are moments full of beauty and laughter, shared dinners, campfires, and stars.  There are giggles over waffles and syrup and mighty fine legs.  Of course there is also, sunburn, Pepto Bismal, bee stings, and trying to get everyone out of the house on time.
     Last week, Pat left me standing on line with a grocery cart to retrieve something that we had forgotten in the depths of a big box store.  It was crowded.  I saw Pat looking for me and I noticed the way his face changed when he found me.  He smiled like he hadn’t seen me in days instead of minutes.  Those are the treasured moments that make up a marriage.
    The relationship a married couple have with each other is the same as the relationship God desires with each of us.

     But now, O Israel, the Lord who created you says: "Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.  I have called you by name; you are mine.  When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you.  When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown!  When you walk through the fires of oppression, you will not be burned up: the flames will not consume you.  For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.  ...  you are precious to me.  You are honored, and I love you. ~ Isaiah 43: 1-4

   So, to my dear husband, you are precious to me, and I love you, all the way down to your “mighty fine legs!”

Rust Bucket

     On Wednesday, Pat and I took the day off from house projects and went for lunch at Harney’s Tea Shop in Millerton.  It was a lovely treat.
     After lunch, we wandered through the town.  Pat waited patiently as I walked through Millerton’s Antique Center.  I have a feeling that this store is where the saying one man’s junk is another man’s treasure was first said.  The Antique Center is full of old jewelry, clothing, dishes, furniture, and assorted odd items.  There are old blue bromo seltzer bottles, rusty saws, comic books, cast iron iron’s that you have to heat by placing them in a fire, and even the head of a rather unfortunate alligator.
     I love to imagine the people who touched these items before me.  The woman who carried the little beaded bag.  The child who sat on that little wooden chair.  The man who used that wooden shoe shine kit.
     I was near the back of the store when I saw it.  A bucket tucked behind a chest. The bucket was roughly the size of a five gallon paint pail. It had once held ice cream.  What caught my eye was the name emblazoned in a banner across it.  “Johnston’s Ice Cream.”  Johnston is my maiden name.  When I lifted the bucket for a closer look, I realized that the bottom had pretty much rusted through.  Flakes of rust rained down.  At some point, the bucket had been used as a planter.  Bits of dirt clung to the inside.  It had been a long time since it had held any ice cream.  The price was $25.  Twenty-five dollars for a rust bucket.
     I considered carefully.  After all $25 wouldn’t break the bank, but what on earth could I do with it?  It was too far gone to hold anything.  If anyone got scratched by it, they might get a tetanus infection.  I couldn’t think of where this rusty thing would go in my house. Then I pictured the faces of my brother’s if I gifted one of them with a rusty old bucket, even if it had their name written on it.  The only reason I considered purchasing the bucket was because of the name written on it’s rusty sides.  I put it back.
     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 moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."  ~Matthew 6:19-21

     The treasure that will never rust is found in the name of Jesus.  The One who paid the price that we could never pay.  The One who loves us to the grave and back again.  The One to whom every knee will bow and tongue confess that He is Lord.
     In the book of Acts, Peter says to the lame man,

“Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee, in the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.”  ~Acts 3:6

     May the Name of Jesus be the banner over your homes and hearts this morning.  May He be your treasure.

Dad's Tool Box

Pat posing with a camel we stumbled on when camping in Pennsylvania.

     A short list of things you will never hear a father say.

• Can you turn that music up?
• Let’s go shoe shopping!
• Ahh, Sweetie, I LOVE your tattoo.  Let’s get one’s that match.
• Here honey, you take the remote.
• Go ahead, take my truck see what she can do. 
• Here’s my credit card.  Live it up.

     Today is a day to celebrate the men in our lives.

 Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.  ~Psalm 127:1

     Every man, especially fathers, are put on this earth to build something.  All men know, that if you want to build something, you must have the correct tools.
1.  The Instruction Manual
     While many men put aside and refuse to read the "Assembly Required" instructions that come with all kinds of things.  One that should not be put aside is the real instruction manual.
     The Bible is the story of a Father’s love.  From the very first page through the very last, it speaks to us of God’s relentless passion for us.

      I have loved you with an everlasting love…and I have drawn you in loving-kindness.   ~Jeremiah 31:3

 2.  Hammer
     I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not it.  The hammer represents consistency.
     Pat and I are working on many projects around the house.  We are about to make the move from weekend warrior to "get ‘er done."  But Fatherhood is not just for weekend warriors.  It is an everyday, every night, lifetime of being there kind of commitment.  It really is “get ‘er done.”
Loving discipline and words of wisdom will reveal love to our children.

3.  Watch:
     The watch is to remind men to relax.  Children spell love, T-I-M-E.  Children need to spend time with their fathers.
    David wrote in Psalms that God’s thoughts toward us are too numerous to count.  God our Father delights in us.  He knows the number of hairs on our heads.  He knows when we are sad, lost, alone, sick, or scared.  He knows us intimately and He loves us.  We have stolen His heart.  Time is important.

Pat really did hang the moon for our kids.

 4.  Screwdriver
     Are you wound way too tight?  Grumpy?  Tired? Serious all of the time.  It’s time to loosen up.  Have some fun.  Get out there and ride a bike or throw a ball.  Enjoy some ice cream.  Sit in a dark movie theatre with silly 3D glasses on your face.  Make sure that you laugh with your children.

5.  Tape measure
     Let God’s Word be your measuring stick.  None of us will ever measure up if we listen to the world’s view on parenting and children’s needs.  The truth is that the kids don’t really need the latest gadgets and the expensive clothes.  They need you.
     This is also a reminder to say, “No” when you have to.  Live with nothing to hide. Integrity – means doing what is right when no one is watching and everyone else is compromising.

6.  Wrench
    Men need to tighten up the level of love and commitment to their wives and their children.  After all, it’s a whole lot easier to become a parent, than it is to be one.
     My Dad and I always tell one another, “I love you” before we hang up the phone.

At the Erie Canal

7.  Bracket
     Support.  Support and love your wife.  Children need to know that their parents are in it together.  Consult one another and honor one another in love.

     Jesus followed the example of both His earthly father and His heavenly Father.

    As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. ... I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.  My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. ... I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit--fruit that will last. ...This is my command: Love each other.   ~John 15:9-17 

Mother's Day Muffin Mishap

     She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she can laugh at the days to come.  ~Proverbs 31:25

     Pat and I have been blessed to have two sets of kids.  We have three older sons who are grown, and three younger kids, who are growing up quickly.  Pat and I started young and then, when it came to kids, just kept going.  This means that we are oldish for parents, just ask our younger kids who think that we are ancient.  We are not usually the oldest parents at back to school night, but we are up there.  We take ibprofen for muscle aches.  We buy industrial size bottles of Tums.  We are not the “cool” parents.  Music is too loud, and we are often befuddled by the electronics that our children understand.

     From the first queasy bout of morning sickness, through the struggle to birth or adopt our children, to the late nights, driving lessons, and endless efforts with science projects and homework, being a parent is the most wonderfully difficult thing that God will call us to do.   But then we shouldn’t lose heart, it was never meant to be easy.

      We are called to raise Godly warriors.  Pat and I have five sons.  We are familiar with dirt, noise, and wiggly things in pockets.  We have had oatmeal in the vcr, matchbox cars in the toilet, and rocks in the dryer.  We’ve been chased by snakes, lizards, and bicycles.  We’ve learned about Diagon Alley, baseball, and building fortresses with lego blocks.  We know how to read a compass, scramble over rocks, and go geocaching.  We’ve played bingo and searched for buried treasure.  We’ve put out fires, baited hooks, and shot off fire works.  We’ve played slot car racing, bumper cars, and given driving instruction.  We have spent a fair amount of time at doctor’s offices and emergency rooms while our boys have been stitched up from their latest adventure.  We have sent super hero’s to time out.  We love our boys.

     We have been blessed with a beautiful daughter.  Patty introduced us to the world of sweet cupcakes, glitter, and sparkles.  Pat and I have had tea with teddy bears and had our hair braided lopsidedly.  We have learned the power of a pair of shoes and a truly bad hair day.  We’ve shopped for prom dresses and hiking boots.  We’ve survived the drama of hair flips and “I don’t want to talk about it’s.”  We’ve danced in the kitchen, around a campfire, and at lakeside parties.  We’ve watched school concerts, plays, and gone on field trips.  We’ve picked flowers and painted glitter on our nails.  We’ve waited for our girl to return home safely from dates, Pat having forcefully shaken her beau’s hand before they left for the evening.  We love our daughter.

     Parenting is an endeavor of love, faith, and sheer determination.   But we are imperfect people.   I find myself awake at  2 am wondering how I could have forgotten this or that very important thing.  How I could have done such and such better, and counting the many ways in which I have fallen short.  Parenting is too important a task to mess up.  There are days, weeks, and even seasons when we feel inadequate for the task.
     I had one such day recently and the family thought it was humiliating enough to share.
     A few weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, our cat, Luna, woke me up a few minutes after five.  Pat still rested beside me and I could hear that no one else in the house was up.  This was good.  So I crept downstairs instead of rolling over.  I slowly sipped my coffee, enjoyed the birds singing outside the window, and relaxed before the crazy Sunday morning routine began.
      I fed the cat and savored the moments of peace.  I tweaked what I was going to say at church, read a few favorite blogs, and checked facebook.  I drank my coffee.  The cat, full of kibbles, joined me on the chair purring loudly.   Around seven, I heard the thump of feet hitting the floor.  Kids were coming down.

     Hungry, I decided to make maple pecan muffins for the family.  I had the butter and syrup creamed and the dry ingredients mixed before I discovered that I did not have the required sour cream.  I decided to exchange cream cheese for the missing sour cream, because I’m flexible like that.  The butter and syrup looked a little melty from all the whipping, but I shrugged and went with it.  The recipe usually yields 18 generously sized muffins, but for some odd reason, I seemed to have lots of extra batter.  I doled it out between the muffin cups and set the pan to bake for eighteen minutes.
     I went upstairs to get dressed and showered feeling noble and a little like the Proverbs 31 woman who gets up while it is still dark and provides food for her family.
     Pat and I were chatting when the first tendrils of smoke made their way up the stairs and through the closed bedroom door.  We raced down stairs.  Smoke hung a foot deep from the ceiling.  The smoke alarm that usually calls my children to dinner, was oddly silent.
     Burnt maple syrup smoke puffed in my face when I opened the oven door.  When my eyes stopped watering, I peered at my muffins.  The batter had overflowed and spilled out across the muffin pan then dripped down onto the bottom of the oven.  A half inch of black gunk with charred pecans rested in the muffin cups.

     Pat, the love of my life and greatest support in times of difficulty, took one look at the pitiful mess, and yelled, “Get the camera!”  Yes, because this needed to be documented.
     Anthony helpfully opened the sliding door to fan the smoke out.  Patty cried, “What did you do?”  Connor took one look in the oven and cheerfully informed me that I had a muffin mishap, and perhaps he should have cereal.
     Now that my culinary expertise had been properly documented for future generations, I started to scrape the blackened crisp off the bottom of the oven.  Pat stopped me by closing the oven door and switching it from bake to clean.  He wanted to leave the muffin pan in the oven, but I vetoed that.  It would be better soaked, and if that didn’t work, disposed of.  We hastily re-planned our morning.  Pat and the boys would remain at home in case the house went on fire from my muffin mishap and Patty and I would go to church. As a precaution, I lovingly took the fire extinguisher out of the cabinet and placed it next to the oven.  Pat informed me that if I was really concerned about him, I would have put the fire extinguisher on the table so he wouldn’t have to get burned getting to it if the oven did actually go on fire.  He had a point.
     Still hungry and being too considerate to add to the mess, Patty and I went to the diner for breakfast.  Over eggs and pancakes we made plans for some girl shopping in the afternoon.  At church, my friend Kim suggested we go to Job Lot in Hyde Park.  I had never been there.
     What a place it is!  There is a hodgepodge of, well, everything.  Clothing, food, flashlights, paper goods, and area rugs.  It was in the area rugs that I once again got into a little bit of trouble.  I have been searching for a rug for the living room.
     The area rugs were stacked on top of one another in piles.  If you have ever had the experience of shopping for rugs, you know that the one you want to look at is never the top rug.  In the 5 x 7 pile, I discovered a rug that had the perfect colors for our bedroom.  I could just imagine it tucked cozily in front of our chair.  The only problem was that the rug I wanted was about five rugs down.  A young man who was a store employee wandered by a few times but steadfastly refused to make eye contact.  Patty and I were on our own.  I came up with a plan.  If we flipped the rugs back halfway and then sort of rolled the desired rug up toward the middle, and then flipped the rugs back and did the same thing from the opposite direction, we could pull the rug out without disturbing the rest of the pile.  So Patty and I strong armed our way through and the little rug ended up neatly in my carriage.
     Still determined to find something for the living room, I moved on to the pile of 8 x 11 rugs which were up on a much higher platform so that they wouldn’t touch the floor.  I leafed through and quickly discovered a rug way down in the pile that had possibilities.  The same employee had continued to pass by and not make eye contact.  Well, my rug technique had worked before, so I decided to try again.  Patty and I took our positions on opposite ends on the short side of the rugs.  Flipping 8 x 11 rugs over was much more difficult than the smaller rugs.  They were heavy, higher up and sagged in the middle as we folded them.  Still I was determined and Patty was giving it her best shot.  We had managed to get the top rugs flipped and the right rug rolled.  I had positioned myself to pull the rug out from under the others when I was startled by a deep voice rumbling behind me.  There was a shorter than me, older man who offered to get someone to help me.
     “No thanks, I think that I have it.”   Silly me.  The calvary had finally arrived and I turned them down.   I gave an enthusiastic tug and the entire pile of rugs spilled on to the floor.  I was mortified.  The man paged for assistance and a few guys turned up, including the young man who had pretended that I was invisible before.
     Then because God has a sense of humor and to make my embarrassment complete, my friend, Kim came around the corner.  What a scene.  There I was with the pile of rugs dumped on the floor, the guys rushing around, and the man in charge telling me that they did not want my help to put the rug display back together, thank you very much.  Patty wanted to melt.  So much for being clothed in strength and dignity like in Proverbs 31.  At least this time, no one had a camera!  Kim promptly called her mother, Donna, to share the excitement.
     Patty and I went home.  The house was standing.  The fire extinguisher unused.  The oven was clean, but the house still smelled like burnt crispies.  When we rolled the rug out in the living room, we saw that it was missing a few important rows of yarn in the middle.  I would have noticed this in the store if I had ever seen the rug completely instead of rolled up.  Pat went back with me the next day to return it.  Fortunately, no one was there who had witnessed the great rug debacle of the previous day.
     And there it is, in the middle of the muddle, grace generously spilled out like rugs on the floor.   Being a parent is about the laughter of making mistakes and doing our best.  It’s about dying to self and fanning the smoke of our blunders out the window.  It’s about documenting the laughter and dancing in the kitchen.
     When our children see us in the midst of our mess, they’ll know that the God we serve, is not about to squash us for not being perfect people.  They’ll know that He sees us as we are and loves us anyway.  Which is how He calls us to love them.
     I want my children to please be quiet.  Christ wants them to sing loud praises.  I want them to stop rocking the boat.  Christ wants them to get out of the boat and walk to Him over the roar of the waves.  I want them to be over achievers who always do their homework and make the best decisions.  Christ calls them to decide for Him and be His disciples.  I don’t want their heart to be broken. Christ wants to give them a heart of flesh, broken for His people.  I want them to fit in.  He wants to set them apart.  I love my children.  He loves them more.
     And when we fail as a parent, and we will fail, our sons and daughters will see us pick ourselves up and continue the path we have been set on.  Our lives are transparent to our children.  They have seen us with mud on our face, curlers in our hair, not ready for company, certainly not warrior like.  They see us in our un-sparkly selves. They have witnessed our reaction to people who cut us off in traffic and what we do when we knock over the store display.   They have eaten at our table.  They know that real life sometimes requires fire extinguishers and smoke alarms.  They have listened to us talk to our friends, our parents, and our God.  For better or worse, our children have learned about marriage and parenting from us.  They see our laughter and our tears.  They know our sins.
     So we teach them about Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away our sins, especially the sins of children and parents.  When I was young and acting foolish, I remember my parents telling me that they hoped that I had  a child just like me.  I am so grateful that our God is full of grace and mercy, because parenting matters.  God understands. As parents, we are raising greatness.  Godly warriors for the next generation.
     May you have a blessed Mother’s Day.

Pat's "Big" Mac April Fool Burgers

      So, I came home from work tonight and Pat had cooked up these wonderful April Fool Burgers!  They are so adorable.  We loved them!  Can you see why I married this man?!

 Pat's "Big" Mac April Fool Burgers    

Ingredients:

• Kebbler Grasshopper Cookies
• Vanilla Wafer Cookies
• Starburst Candies: yellow and red
• Shredded coconut dyed with green food coloring
• Red Cake decorating icing in a tube
• a tablespoon of melted butter
• a sprinkle of sesame seeds

Optional:

• Can of Shoestring Potato Sticks.  We used cheddar.

     How to:

1. Start with a Vanilla Wafer, round side down for the bottom bun.
2. Use a little of the icing as "glue".  Add a Grasshopper Cookie.  They really do look like hamburgers!
3. Heat the Starburst Candies in the microwave for 5 seconds.  Shape the red one into a circle for the tomato.  Shape the yellow one into a square for the cheese.  Pat is so clever; he used the Starburst wrappers under the Big Mac like a hamburger wrapper.
4. Add green coconut for the lettuce.
5. A squirt of red icing for ketchup.
6. Top with another Vanilla Wafer.
7. Brush the top Vanilla Wafer with the melted butter.
8. Sprinkle sesame seeds on top.

The quarter is for size reference.

Serve with a side of "Fries" and more ketchup.

Five Years Ago

     For most survivors and family members, cancer is a life-changing event.  Our family is no exception.  The surgery to remove the cancer from my left breast was five years ago today.  Other people would be going to parades, drinking green beer, and eating corned beef and cabbage with Irish soda bread.  Ahhh, the luck of the Irish.  On that morning, I reported to the Cancer Center conveniently attached to the hospital.
     My cancer was discovered by a routine yearly mammogram.  If you haven't made your appointment, please do so now.  My yearly mammogram saved my life.
     You can read about my journey on my I Wear Pink page.

     To mark this day, I am re-posting something I wrote a few years ago, edited only by the number of years..


Dear Breast Cancer,
     You were an unwelcome guest.  I didn’t even know that you were there, growing, changing, threatening.   My first hint of your existence an ominous walnut shaped spot where no spot should be.
     I recall when I learned your ugly secret, the way my heart skipped a beat, and my stomach clenched.  The way my eyes filled and puddled over in fear and shock.  I never thought you would come to me.
    You crept silently into my left breast.  Don’t you know that my infants nursed at that very breast?  I held my babies in my left arm,  their little heads pillowed against my breast, echoing its soft curves.  They could hear my heart beat, thump-thump, thump-thump.  You would have extinguished that forever.
     You stole something from me.  You are always on my mind.  I wish that I could forget you.
     You changed my life.  You showed me that I am more delicate than I know.  You labeled me as sick, different, damaged.
    You touched my children.  They were frightened that they would have to grow up and grow old without a mother.  You took part of their childhood away.  They should not have had to deal with adult worries.  You would have silenced my voice in their future.
     You touched my marriage.  I am no longer the smooth skinned bride that my husband touched with joy.  You marked me.  My scars reflect my determination to be rid of you.
    Breast Cancer, I can not believe that it has been five years since we were introduced.  Some days it seems as if it were just yesterday.  And then there are times when I feel that I have known you forever.
     Breast Cancer, I would not have chosen you, but, I have learned these things from our dance together.
    You do not define me.  I am who I always have been, but more so.
     I am not alone.  My friends stood beside me with home baked meals and encouragement.  More friends then I knew I had.  They were the tangible hands and feet of Jesus to me.
     You have given me sisters who have fought the same battle.  I want to serve as an encouragement for them.
     Our family was strengthened by your visit.  They covered me with love and prayers.  Crayoned cards and gentle kisses.  Quiet times and boisterous parties with enough squabbles and mess to let me know that I am needed and wanted.  Our family works harder to be there for each other then before you reared your ugliness.
     I have learned to love unconditionally, to forgive completely,  to live in hope, and to enjoy every moment I've been given.
      My marriage is sweeter.  My husband touches me with new found joy and appreciation.  We whisper our love quietly heads together and argue loudly about nothing of consequence.  We defer to each other and support each other.  My husband is my treasure.

      Breast Cancer, I did not fight you like a girl, I fought you as a Warrior.  The battle for me was already won on Calvary’s cross.  I know that God loves me.  I have seen His goodness in the land of the living.
     Breast Cancer, you forcefully pointed out that narrow gate through which we all must pass.  But I have learned this, the One who has led me all my life will not desert me. When the time comes for me to pass through the narrow gate,  it will be just wide enough for me and my Savior together.
Sincerely,

Book Review: The Antelope in the Living Room

     I enjoyed Melanie Shankle’s first book, Sparkly Green Earrings so much that I knew I had to read her second book, The Antelope in the Living Room.  Oh my word!  Antelope had me poking my husband and reading him excerpts.   Antelope is now on his Kindle, too.
     I loved that this book was about marriage.  Melanie celebrates and appreciates the differences between husband and wife.
     Warning!  Do not read Antelope in public.  It will have you laughing out loud like I did while waiting for my husband at the doctors office.  We were there for the dreaded man cold.  Which as Melanie points out is “... the very worst of all the colds. It’s far superior and more serious than any type of flu a wife might contract. It requires chicken noodle soup in bed, lots of “poor baby,” and Xanax. Granted, the Xanax is for the caretaker, but you get my point.”
     I am looking forward to her next book!  If you have already read this book, what did you think about it?

PS:  I did not receive payment for this review.  My opinion about this book was given freely because I think that you will enjoy it as much as I did.  If you should click on the book picture and follow the link to Amazon and purchase something - anything while you are there,  I may make a small percentage of your purchase.  This will not cost you any additional money.  If you really want to be kind, treat yourself to a pair of diamond earrings!

Roofer's Apprentice

This is the house as it looks now 25+ years later.  I suspect that is the roof we added.

     When Pat and I had been married a few years, we lived in a small cape.  We had three young and energetic sons who caused a considerable amount of chaos.  This story is not about them, but I mention them so that you will understand the depth of my husband’s desperation.
     It was summer and Pat had been working at replacing the roof on our house.  It was Pat’s first roof and he worked hard. He stripped the old rotted plywood and shingles off and had taken the roof down to the rafters.  Pat and I were young and in love, and perhaps a little bit clueless. We joked about the new “skylights” and the open air feeling the house had.  Our neighbors shook their heads and warned us to finish quickly because we would be in a world of trouble if it rained.
     The sun did shine on us for almost a week.   Pat had been busy.  The new plywood and tar paper was on and he had started the shingles.  The back side of the roof was complete, but the front hadn’t been started.  Unfortunately, a storm was due to arrive in the evening and now the pressure to finish was on.  If we were to get the roof finished that day, it was clear that Pat needed help, my help.  And that is how I became a roofer’s apprentice.
     I shakily climbed the ladder to the sharply pitched roof.  Pat ordered me to sit down and for heaven’s sake, not move.  No problem there.  He scrambled back down the ladder for supplies.  I surveyed the distant ground below.  My boys played in the yard with the babysitter.  The roof was much higher from from up there than it had looked from below.  I considered how graceful clumsy I was and wondered if this was really the best idea.  Perhaps one of those blue tarps would suffice to keep out the rain.  To my great consternation, the ladder disappeared.  I heard some clanking and banging on the other side of the roof, but as obedient as ever, I did not move.  Finally, Pat came over the peak dragging a rope.  Not just any rope.  This rope was about four inches thick.  It could have been used to safely anchor the Queen Mary.  My beloved tied the rope firmly around my waist, leaving a long tail of it so that it could be adjusted as I moved up and down the front side of the roof.  The remainder of the rope lay heavily on the roof and trailed over the peak.  Pat had tied the other end to a large tree on the opposite side of our yard.  Take a moment to appreciate how ridiculous this looked.  I had a rope that looked like an anaconda wrapped around me with one end trailing off the edge of the side of the roof I stood on and the other end slithering over the peak and down the other side of the roof, from there the rope clotheslined it’s way over to a sturdy tree at the far edge of the yard.  There was no way I was going to be allowed to fall off the roof and leave Pat to raise our three terrors on his own.
     So we shingled and hammered, in those days before nail guns.  We made a pretty good team.  As the day went on, I became confident moving about the roof with my life line.  The only time that I slipped was when I tripped on the rope.  The last nails went in as the sky shadowed with gray storm clouds.
     That night we tucked our boys in bed as the rains poured down and the lightening flashed, and we celebrated the roof over our heads and the blessings that God so freely provided.

     The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?
  The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
    of whom shall I be afraid?  One thing I ask from the Lord,
 this only do I seek: 
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
  all the days of my life, 
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
 and to seek him in his temple.   ~Psalm 27: 1,4

     Isn’t that a wonderful thing?  To dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our life.
     All the days -

• Even the ridiculous ones.
• Even when the storms are coming and the pressure is on.  
• Even when we are walking on a slippery slope.  
• Even when the ground is no longer safely beneath our feet.  
• Even when we come to the end of ourselves and the end of our rope.  
• Even when we walk through the shadowed valley.  

     Surely, even then, goodness and mercy will follow and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Soul For Sale

He restores my soul;  He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.  ~Psalm 23:3     

     This is a real advertisement from Craigslist for the Hudson Valley that I came across last August.  It reads:  Authentic human soul,  $800,  I am offering my genuine human soul on loan for 1 year in exchange for $800 cash.  Legitimate offers.  Serious buyers/investors only.  Will type up contract.

      I came across the advertisement, saved it, because I wondered about it, and then in the press of returning to school with the kids,  I completely forgot about it until I found it on my computer while looking for something else.  I wish I could tell you more about the advertisement, like why someone would decide to sell their soul at 3:00 in the morning, or how they decided their soul had a market value of eight hundred dollars for one year, or even, if there were any takers.
     This is not the first time a soul has been offered for sale.  A man from Ontario, Canada attempted to auction his soul on eBay. His listing was cancelled under a longstanding eBay policy that specifically forbids selling your soul.  Bidding had reached $20.50.
     What is the price of a soul after all?  Jesus came “at just the right time,” for the purpose of redeeming us.  He came to purchase us off of the auction block of sin.  He didn’t casually disregard us, or forget about us because He had other things to do.  He knew the cost.  He was the cost.  We were bought with a price.

For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life ...,  but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.  ~1 Peter 1:18-19     

      Jesus willingly paid the complete debt for our soul on Calvary’s cross two thousand years ago.    With love, He ransomed us, redeemed us, and restored us.  He gave us value, and it is far greater than $800 a year.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. ~ John 3:16

     While we were bought with a price, we are offered the precious gift of salvation freely.  We can not pay for it, work for it, or be good enough for it.  It is ours as a gift, freely given from a loving Father.   We are all just one breath, one heartbeat, one illness, or accident away from eternity.  There is no greater gift than to have been redeemed by the blood of the lamb of God.  Not for one hour, not for one year, but for all eternity.

Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, Whom He has redeemed from the hand of the enemy   ~Psalms 107:1-2 

     Have you given Him your soul?

I Am a Grateful Wife

     Do you know those movie dream sequences where two lovers joyfully run from opposite ends of a grassy field into each others arms?  Well, our marriage has never had a moment like that.  Pat has never rode a white horse and rescued me.  He has never drawn a saber and clashed his way across a room full of villains, climbed the highest tower of a magical castle, or slain a fire breathing dragon.  Most fairytales end with “and they lived happily ever after.”  And that is the point - they lived after the wedding.
     Pat has lived with me at my best and worst, which is considerable, for 34 wonderful years. I need his love and counsel.  His support and discernment.  His presence and willingness to jump in wholeheartedly with whatever scheme I’ve come up with.  Have three children, then three more.  Change diapers, load car seats, build swing sets and swimming pools, put up tents, chaperone field trips, go to summer camp, and watch ball games.  He’s gone out in the middle of the night to get medicine, ice cream, and pepto bismal.
     The villains he has fought are not found in fairytales.  He has unplugged toilets - the yucky ones.  He has killed spiders and trapped snakes and bats while I have cowered in the corner or stood on a chair yelling frantic instructions.  Pat has put together cribs, cabinets, beds, bicycles, and chicken coops.  He has been vomited on, cried on, and worn baby spit on his shoulders.
     Pat has never ridden a white horse, but He has rescued me.  He found me when my car was stuck on a highway and battled traffic to get to the scene of my accident because I said that I was uninjured, but scared.  Pat has brought me my glasses and lunch at school when I have forgotten them on the table on my way out the door.
     He has endured chick flicks.  He has done the lighting and sound for school plays for 500 students. Not one of them were his.
     And when the dragon called cancer came to call.  Pat held me and comforted me and took me for second opinions. He kept track of medications after surgery and let me nap when I felt like it.  He bought me a $25.00 sandwich on a hot dog bun after a stressful day at Sloan Kettering.    
    He gives me technical support for my computer woes.  He tells me repeatedly about stocks and target lines until my eyes glaze over, in the hopes that one day I’ll understand.  He makes me laugh.
     We’ve been in planes, trains, and automobiles.  On his mail route, I sat in the drivers seat while Pat drove the car from the passenger seat.  He has taken me on endless road trips where he has been afraid to stop for fear that I wouldn’t get back in the car.  I do not travel well.  Each week, he makes sure my gas tank is full.
     And then there are boats.  My land lubber husband has braved fishing and sailing in the ocean, and even kayaking on the Wappinger’s Creek at flood stage.  We lost a camera, prescription eyeglasses, sneakers, and a sweatshirt on that trip.
     Pat knows my faults and forgives them -often.
     Pat stands by my side in church, at home, and in life.

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.  if one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.  ~ Song of Solomon 8:7

     I am a grateful wife.

The Gate Called Beautiful

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon.  Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts.  When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money.  Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!”  So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
    Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”  Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong.  He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God.  When all the people saw him walking and praising God,  they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.  ~Acts 3:1-10

     I have read this amazing passage of scripture many times, but what stood out to me this time was that the name of the gate where this lame and broken man was placed was “Beautiful.”

     Beautiful.

     Sometimes I forget that God finds beauty in our lameness and brokeness.  When we are just not good enough, when we are sick, or in despair, when we find ourselves in the same wretched place we have been before.  Then we turn to God with a beggar’s expectation, knowing that we don’t have enough on our own to make it through another day.  And the God of miracles and grace causes us to rise up and walk with Him past the place where we have laid so long.  With His great compassion and love, He finds us beautiful.
     Remember the woman with the albaster box of precious spikenard with which she annointed Jesus.  Consider, Jesus was not anointed until the box was broken.
      We should not feel ashamed to be broken.  God loves the broken heart and the contrite spirit.  Brokeness is just a beautiful gate, a sweet perfume, where Jesus meets us, heals us, and walks us through.

Praise the Lord.
How good it is to sing praises to our God,
    how pleasant and fitting to praise him!
The Lord builds up Jerusalem;
    he gathers the exiles of Israel.
He heals the brokenhearted
    and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of the stars
    and calls them each by name.
Great is our Lord and mighty in power;
    his understanding has no limit.                    ~Psalm 147:1-5

Day 18: Wedding Supper

     Pat and I attended the summer wedding of a friend's daughter a few years ago.  It was lovely.  The bride was radiant and the groom, handsome and sweet.
     Pat and I arrived at the reception a little late.  It was completely my fault.  I had thought that the wedding and reception, which were being held at the same place, would be in a chilly, over air-conditioned room.  I had worn a dress with long sleeves.  The wedding was held outside in a huge tent. The temperature hovered at 95 degrees.  Pat had simply shrugged off his jacket and tie.  Between the wedding and the reception, I, already melting, had insisted we run to a nearby mall so that I could buy a more comfortable dress.  That was the fastest dress decision I have ever made!
     There we were, late and I was looking decidedly rumpled.  We found our place cards and seated ourselves at Table #9.  There were about 100 guests.  We did not know anyone, with the exception of the parents of the bride and their five lovely adult children.
     After the grand introduction and entrances were made and the happy couple had danced their first dance, our friends found us.  They laughed at my dress dilemma, then invited us to sit with them at Table #1 with their family.
   So we enjoyed the wedding in a place of honor with the family.  We laughed with the bride's brothers and listened to Grandma tell family stories.  It was a wonderful day.
     I was reminded of God's grace and how in Luke where Jesus tells the parable of sitting yourself at the lowest place at a banquet so that the host will invite you to sit at a better place, a place of honor.

When Jesus noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable:  “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this person your seat.’ Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place.  But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests.  For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”  ~Luke 14:7-11

     Pat and I had done nothing to deserve the "better" seat, all we did was accept it.  A gift freely given.
     Soon we will be going to the wedding feast of the Lamb of God.  There the highest place will be lying low at our Redeemer's feet.  Jesus will sweetly lift us up and seat us.
     This post is Day 18 in the 31 Day Series: Welcome to My Mess.  You can read the other posts here.

Day 17: How Deep and Wide

     Several years ago, I was standing in the upper room of a local pet shop admiring the many frogs and reptiles that were for sale.  I had chosen a frog to add to my collection and was looking at the reptiles while I was waiting for my frog.  You can read more about snakes and frogs in this post.
     A young man came up the stairs to look at the snakes.  He was a little scruffy around the edges, long haired, bearded, tatooed, wearing camo, and very obviously, missing his right arm (this will be important in a moment).  I glanced at him and went back to peering into a nearby tank.  He asked me if I were going to purchase a snake.
     "Oh, no."  I assured him, "I prefer snakes at a great distance or at least behind glass.  But I do adore frogs."   We chatted about frogs for a bit, discovering that we both had a blue dumpy frog.  It's not often that I meet someone who shares, or even understands an interest in frogs, so this young man was fun to talk to.
     The young man's passion, however, was snakes.  He rhapsodized about the many snakes he had.  He  shared about a ball python that he had gotten when it was very small.   He had it for years and it had really grown quite a bit.  He set me up and I fell right in.
     "How long is it?"
     He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, held up his solitary left arm and said, "It's this big."  We both had a good laugh at my expense.
    In the book of Ephesians, Paul tries to describe how big God's love is for us.  It is as immeasurably large as that snake my friend was describing to me.  God is crazy about us.

     For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name.  I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
     Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  Amen.     ~Ephesiaans 3:14-21

     God's love is so wide, it embraces you.  It is so long-lasting, it will never let you go.  God's love will never let you down.  His love is strong enough to entrust your children to and deep enough to meet your deepest need.
     The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.  Deuteronomy 33:27
     This post is Day 17 in the 31 Day Series: Welcome to My Mess.  You can read the other posts here.

Day 16: Son of Encouragement

     In the New Testament, we meet a companion of Paul who had the gift of encouragement.  His parents had named him Joseph, which means "one who increases."  The early church leaders, however, changed his name to Barnabas, which means "son of encouragement."  Barnabas was a person who others felt good being around.  He was a man who believed in the potential of a person, particularly those who mothers whom others (that's an appropriate typo) might be cautious or suspicious of.
     It was Barnabas who encouraged the disciples to give Paul a chance to demonstrate the depth of his conversion from a stoner of the believers to a missionary for Jesus.  When Paul did not want to take John Mark with him, because John Mark had left them during a missionary trip, Barnabas stepped in and insisted on allowing John Mark to come with them.
     Here is what it says about Barnabas in the book of Acts.

     When Barnabas arrived and saw the evidence of the grace of God, he was glad and encoraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts.  He was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and a great number of people were brought to the Lord.   ~Acts 11:23-24

     That was Barnabas reputation.  This was how people talked about him behind his back.  Barnabas spent his life building and edifying others.  He showed them how much he cared for them through his words and his actions.  He knew that the best thing to do behind a person's back was to pat it, not to criticize.
     Discouraged people do not need critics.  They hurt enough already.  The Bible says, "Do not put out the Spirit's fire," 1 Thes. 5:19.
     People who are discouraged need a refuge not someone to remind them of the obstacles.  An encourager fills that need and provides a place to hide and heal.  Encouragement has the capacity to lift spirits, place a smile on a discouraged face, or change the direction that someone is headed - not just for the moment, not just for the day, but for as long as life itself.
     Think about the people God has placed into your life.  Who are the people that you can encourage?

     And it will be said"  Build up, build up, prepare the road!  Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people.  For this is what the high and lofty One says--he who lives forever, whose name is holy:  "I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.   ~Isaiah 57:14-15

     Use your words today to build others up.
     This post is Day 16 in the 31 Day Series: Welcome to My Mess.  You can read the other posts here.

Day 15: Five Dollar Bicycle

     For many summers, our family went camping with two other families.  A variety of children, tents, trailers, chairs, firewood, and marshmallows mixed together with stories, laughter, some friendly competition, a few assorted tantrums - not all of which were the children's, and lots of activity.
     One year, in the midst of my frenetic packing for our trip, a very important item did not make it into the truck.  Anthony, who was eight at the time, was crushed to learn that his bike had been left behind.  A bike for Anthony was not just a convenience, it was a necessity.  I humbly begged the master of tag sales in our group, Mary (of The Red Lion Inn fame), to take me with her the next day so I could try to find Anthony a bike.
     Mary leaned over to comfort Anthony and decided to pray.  Her prayer went something like this.  "Lord, Anthony needs a bike for camping.  Please let us find him the perfect bike for five dollars tomorrow morning in Jesus name.  Amen!"  Mary, apparently satisfied with her prayer, sat back and told Anthony not to worry; he would have his bike tomorrow.  Anthony went off smiling to roast marshmallows.  The bike was practically his.
     Meanwhile, I was the one who was way beyond worried.  I was in a state of panic.  My mind raced. Saying, "...in Jesus name," is not like using a magic wand.  In fact, that was rather presumptive on her part.  God can not be strong armed into doing something.  I would never pray like that.  I wouldn't have the nerve.  But now, I had been backed into a corner - by someone else's prayer.  The pressure was on.  I had to find a boys bike, of the right tire height, the next day, FOR FIVE DOLLARS!  I couldn't even go with Plan B, which was to buy a bike at the local Walmart, because Mary had prayed so specifically that it would cost five dollars.  Five dollars for a bike!  Who ever heard of such a thing?
     I felt incredible pressure.  I was afraid that God wouldn't pull through.  I reasoned, five dollar bikes are just not possible.  Anthony's faith for a life time was going to be trashed, if I didn't find a five dollar bike!  I needed to help God make this miracle happen.
     The day arrived bright and sunny.  I hustled Mary into the car.  We were on a mission.  I asked Mary for directions.
     "I guess we could just head into town and look for signs,"  she calmly responded.
     My heart rate tripled!  GUESS!   LOOK for signs!  I thought she KNEW!  I needed a plan guaranteed to find a bicycle and she didn't know exactly where the sales even were.  The plan was to drive around and hope to stumble on signs for tag sales!  I mumbled some things that ought not to be repeated.
     Sure enough when we got to the next town, there were signs.  In fact, we discovered that I had built in radar for finding those tag sales.  We found about seven tag sales in a one mile radius.  Mary bought toys for her grandchildren, dishes, and things to excite her seamstress heart.  I found, but did not buy, a whole fleet of exercise bikes.  I was pretty sure that Anthony would not want a stationary bicycle.  I began to chew my nails.  I never chew my nails.  At our seventh tag sale I was completely discouraged.  Mary, came up with her own Plan B.  She asked the home owner if there was a local thrift store.  Armed with directions, we continued our search.
     As we pulled into the parking lot of the thrift store, I could see the bike!  It was a bright green boy's trail bike.  It was the perfect height.  I excitedly raced over to it.  It looked as though it had hardly been used.  The brakes worked.  The tires had air. The bike was in wonderful condition.  I searched for a price tag.  None.   I wheeled it right into the store.  I was determined, that bike was going to be Anthony's no matter what it cost!
     Of course, the first clerk I asked didn't know how much the bike was.  It had just come in.
She went to check with the manager.  God has a sense of humor and left me to stew for a few minutes.
    The manager arrived and appraised the bike.  She pursed her lips, "Well...I think that five dollars would be a good price."
     I about fell over.  Of course, Mary and I told the ladies how they had been used as an answer to a little boys prayer.
     Mary and I loaded the bike into the car and drove off in triumph.  Anthony was thrilled to have the bike that God had given to him.  He wasn't as impressed as I was, because he had never had any doubts.
     God taught me a lot through a five dollar bicycle.  First, God is God and I will trust HIm.  It is easy for me to trust God for other people.  I know that He will save you.  I even know that He will watch out for me.  Because I am a control person, it's harder to trust Him for my children, and yet, they have always been His.  I have an illusion of control over their lives and happiness, but really they belong to God.  He loves them much more than I ever could.  Finally, I learned that God does not need my help.  He is perfectly capable of performing a miracle all on His own.  He even wants to.  Our God is a mighty God.  There is nothing that He can not do.

My son, do not forget my teaching,

but keep my commands in your heart, 

for they will prolong your life many years

and bring you prosperity.

Let love and faithfulness never leave you;

bind them around your neck,

write them on the tablet of your heart.

Then you will win favor and a good name 

in the sight of God and man.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will direct your paths.   ~Proverbs 3:1-6

     This post is Day 15 in the 31 Day Series: Welcome to My Mess.  You can read the other posts here.