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.

Dancing on the Ceiling

     Pat and I have been completing all kinds of home projects.  And when I say we, I mean we.  Pat and I have put up crown molding, replaced windows, taken down decks and a pool, painted most of our rooms, taken down walls, replaced sheetrock,  ripped out a cast iron tub, and well a lot of things.  We have suffered smashed fingers and toes, splinters, paint in our hair, sore muscles, and frequent trips to Home Depot and Lowes.  Pat now has pain in his left shoulder and is having trouble lifting things.  The kids have been somewhat involved, but really most of the work is accomplished when they are at school or work.
     All of our work led to a mountain of debris. So Pat ordered a 24 foot dumpster.  This lovely ornament was parked in our driveway.  I’m sure that our neighbors were thrilled.  While the dumpster was gracing our yard we decided that we should take advantage of it to rid ourselves of things that we had stored in the attics and forgotten about.
     We have two attics.  One over the second floor of the house reachable with a ladder from the hallway and one over the garage.  The one over the garage is quite high.  The access panel is about 14 feet up from the concrete floor above a stair landing.  Both attics held boxes of books, games, old suitcases, and  random empty boxes for appliances that have long since broken and been discarded.  I think we found the box for the Tandy Computer we bought in 1985.
     We enlisted the help of the kids and Brian who was home visiting.  We were organized.  It was a beautiful thing.  We started in the house attic.  Pat went into the attic which has a plywood floor in the storage area. Pat handed boxes down to Patty who stood on the ladder.  Brian, Anthony, and I trudged up and down the stairs to the dumpster and back.  Connor served as doorman, in a vain attempt to keep some heat in the house.  The Middle School lesson plans I had so carefully stored for 17 years vanished into the depths of the dumpster.  I think that I heard angels singing.  But that is another story.  Ten minutes later that attic was empty, so we moved down to the garage.
     We lost the doorman and the 17 year old in the move.  Pat set the ladder on the stair landing and climbed back up into the attic.  This attic has a piece of plywood across a rafter.  Anyone going up there has to remember to step on the joists or risk falling through the ceiling.  Sheetrock is not meant to support any weight.  As an added hazard, because we had boxes of siding on the garage floor for another project, our large tools - including the tile saw, were placed pretty much under the part of the attic that we were emptying.  Fortunately, there were just a few boxes and some old games up there.  I yelled at my husband to be careful.  I didn’t yell because I was being bossy, I yelled because we also had an air compressor going because the laser machine in the garage was running a piece.  We were multi-tasking.
     Patty resumed her position at the base of the ladder and Brian and I took the junk out to the dumpster.  We were decluttering!  We were getting stuff done!  I was thrilled!
     When I noticed that Patty was also missing in action, I incorrectly assumed that she had followed her younger brothers into the house to get warm.  Patty was actually up in the attic.  I discovered this when I walked back into the garage and saw Patty dangling from the ceiling!

Here is where my daughter was hanging!

     There was my beloved daughter, dangling through a huge hole in the ceiling, over the tools and the saw.  Through the cloud of plaster dust, I could see one long leg, her bottom and the skin of her waist and back.  Her clothing looked like it had been ripped by a nail. Thankfully, there wasn’t any visible blood.
     Pat was on the ladder, head in the attic.  I screamed, not that anyone could hear with the compressor going, and rushed up the stairs and the ladder trying to get to Patty.  Pat blocked me.  He yelled at me over the noise of the compressor, telling me that she was fine. As you may have guessed I argued this point.  How could she possible be fine, she was hanging out of the ceiling!  Pat refused to let me up there correctly surmising that I would also fall through the ceiling.  But Pat wasn’t rushing up there either, remember he hurt his shoulder.  Instead, Pat calmly talked Patty, who had managed to straddle the joists, back onto the beams and out of the attic.  When she was safely back on the ground with no bones broken, the experience became a bit of an adventure to her.  As for me, I went outside, kicked the dumpster and said some very unkind things.  It was not my finest moment.

Home renovation is not for the faint of heart.

    Now I know what you are thinking.  What scripture matches this occasion?    

 Behold, the LORD’S hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear:  ~Is. 59:1

     Accidents happen shattering our sense of self control.  There are times when the floor shifts beneath us.  Our feet slip and we are left dangling, feeling unsupported. We feel alone, scared, devastated.  Sometimes we suffer watching a family member in a life threatening situation.
     But the truth is we are not alone.  God is in our midst.  We are precious to Him.

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.  ~Rom. 8:38,39

     Whatever you are facing today, remember God loves you.  He desires you.  He forgives you.  He died to bring you to Him.

There is no one like the God of Jeshurun, who rides across the heavens to help you and on the clouds in his majesty. The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.   ~Deuteronomy 33:26-27      

Exodus

     I have been joining the Good Morning Girls at Women Living Well in reading the Book of Exodus.  Last week I shared about the burning bush.  The assignment for this week was to read chapters 6-10.   During my reading, I was struck with how big God's plan was and all that He did to reach the Israelites.
     In Exodus 6:6-8, God promised the Israelites that He would be their God and that they would be His people.  He would save them from the yoke of Egyptian oppression.  He would redeem them and then they would be given the land that He had promised to their forefather Abraham.  The Israelites would enjoy times of blessing as they walked with and obeyed Him. The message God sent through Moses was, “I will never leave you or forsake you.  I Am here.”

     The Israelites felt alone and forsaken.  They were slaves in Egypt.  They endured harsh labor.  They had to make bricks without enough straw.  They witnessed the devastation of the plagues.  Egypt had a powerful hold on them.
     Even though the people of God felt alone and abandoned, God never left them.  They were special to Him.  They had value in His eyes.  God went through great lengths to restore the Hebrew people and to provide for them and their future descendants.  The events in these chapters mark the end of bondage for Israel.  The power of Pharaoh to enslave God’s chosen people was forever broken.  The Israelites were delivered to live for God.  They were free to worship Him and to daily make their choice to follow where He led them.
     We, too, are special to God.  1 Corinthians 6:20 tells us that we were bought with a price.  God loves us.  We are precious to Him.  But, like the Hebrew people, there are times when we are shaken and afraid.  When God seems far away and distant.  When we feel frayed and stretched beyond bearing.  When the diagnosis is devastating and the days are both too long and too short at the same time.
     Over the years, God has proven Himself faithful.  He has been there in the good times and the bad.  There were times when He was all I had, and it was enough.
    God went through great lengths to restore the Hebrew people, and He went through great lengths to restore you.  He will never forsake you.  You are graven on His hands.

Talk of the Town

     I don’t watch a lot of TV, but when I do it’s more often the Hallmark channel’s sappy romances than the blood and gore of horror movies.
     When I read my Bible, I take a similar path.  I like the “Jesus loves you,” scriptures.  The ones that tell me I am healed, forgiven, and whole in Jesus.  I avoid the messy ones where people are cruel or crazy or killed.  So, I know that this is not a scripture that I’ve shared about before and yet this was where I felt led and ironically, I found a “Jesus loves you scripture” that tells about a madman in a graveyard.

  Jesus and the disciples arrived on the other side of the sea in the country of the Gerasenes. As Jesus got out of the boat, a madman from the cemetery came up to him. He lived there among the tombs and graves. No one could restrain him—he couldn’t be chained, couldn’t be tied down. He had been tied up many times with chains and ropes, but he broke the chains, snapped the ropes. No one was strong enough to tame him. Night and day he roamed through the graves and the hills, screaming out and slashing himself with sharp stones.
 When he saw Jesus a long way off, he ran and bowed in worship before him—then bellowed in protest, “What business do you have, Jesus, Son of the High God, messing with me? I swear to God, don’t give me a hard time!” (Jesus had just commanded the tormenting evil spirit, “Out! Get out of the man!”)
  Jesus asked him, “Tell me your name.”
  He replied, “My name is Mob. I’m a rioting mob.”  Then he desperately begged Jesus not to banish them from the country.
  A large herd of pigs was browsing and rooting on a nearby hill. The demons begged him, “Send us to the pigs so we can live in them.” Jesus gave the order. But it was even worse for the pigs than for the man. Crazed, they stampeded over a cliff into the sea and drowned.
  Those tending the pigs, scared to death, bolted and told their story in town and country. Everyone wanted to see what had happened. They came up to Jesus and saw the madman sitting there wearing decent clothes and making sense, no longer a walking madhouse of a man.
  Those who had seen it told the others what had happened to the demon-possessed man and the pigs. At first they were in awe—and then they were upset, upset over the drowned pigs. They demanded that Jesus leave and not come back.
  As Jesus was getting into the boat, the demon-delivered man begged to go along, but Jesus wouldn’t let him. Jesus said, “Go home to your own people. Tell them your story—what the Master did, how he had mercy on you.” The man went back and began to preach in the Ten Towns area about what Jesus had done for him. He was the talk of the town.  ~Mark 5:1-20, The Message

     The first few verses of Mark 5 describe a man as sad and down trodden as a person could get.  He lived in a graveyard.  He was naked.  He cut himself with sharp objects.  Then Jesus’ boat bumped against the shore of his life and he, and his demons, recognized the Son of God immediately.  He begged Jesus,”Do not torment me!”  This madman’s life was a total disaster and he was afraid that Jesus was about to make it even worse.
     When some of us first glimpse Jesus, we have a similar fear.  We are afraid of what it will cost to follow Him.  Jesus might ask us to give up something of great value.  It could cost the approval of friends, or things that we do for fun or pleasure.  We might be asked to give some money.  We might even be asked to do hard things.
     Jesus responds to the man’s pleas by simply asking, “What is your name.?”  Anyone else would have defended themselves or left, refusing to make eye contact, to not see the need of this scarred, naked man.  But instead, Jesus sent him a message.  “You matter to Me.”
     Jesus knew exactly how to solve the mystery of this man’s broken life.  He sent the demons into a large herd of pigs, who ran squealing into the water and drowned.  Then the pig farmers were concerned about the cost of meeting Jesus.  Jesus had done something great and wonderful, but they were worried about the pigs.  Were they afraid that Jesus would change them, too?
     The delivered man clearly had been changed by the grace of God.  He recognized that Jesus had touched him at his most unloveable.  He was no longer a naked wild man.  He pulled on clothes.  He was able to hold a conversation.  His chains were truly broken and had no power to hold him.  He no longer needed to cut himself to feel.  He was no longer living with the dead in trespasses and sin.  He knew that Jesus did not love him because he was charming, attractive, eloquent, or talented; his former self was none of those things.  He recognized the depth of his healing.  Jesus had delivered him completely.

 Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
  heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish.
Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
  save me because of your unfailing love.
Among the dead no one proclaims your name.

Who praises you from the grave?
     the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
  
the Lord accepts my prayer. ~Verse’s from Psalm 6 

     When Jesus was about to leave, the man begged Jesus to let him accompany Him.  He went from begging Jesus to leave, to begging Jesus to take him with Him.  A complete reversal of his former demands.  Instead, Jesus sent him home to his family and friends to share the story of what had happened to him when he met Jesus.  Restored and whole.  Heard and accepted.  The talk of the town. 

Masks

     A very long time ago, when I was just a girl, my brother’s and I would go trick or treating on Halloween.  My brother’s were frequently superhero’s.  I was usually a princess.  I know, some things never change.
     Some kids had crafty mom’s who sewed little sequins and ruffles onto dresses or created robots out of cardboard boxes.  My mom was not one of those and so our costumes were most often purchased at a local variety store.  The costume box contained a hospital style gown decorated to look like whatever you were supposed to be and a molded plastic mask with strategically cut holes for eyes and nose. The mask had a thin rubber elastic attached with two tiny staples that were supposed to hold it securely to your face.  I remember Mom peering intently at me, trying to ascertain if I could actually breathe with the mask on.  I could not.  The one-size-fits-no-one mask holes never really lined up with where my nostrils were.  The eye holes didn’t allow for clear vision, either.  Your need for oxygen was pitted against your need to see.  Possibly, I could catch a glimpse of where I was, but no more.  Walking into things was a very real danger.
     I adored my princess mask.  The long yellow waves of painted hair glistened with a sparkly blue crown.  I felt transformed from plain ol’ freckled Donna into a beautiful princess.  But behind the mask, I was blind, asphyxiated, and sweaty.  As much as I wanted to be Cinderella, the truth was that I couldn’t wait to take the mask off, just so that I could breathe again.
     Hiding behind a mask can feel right and safe and even fun for a little while.  Soon though, the effort of being unable to clearly see the world around you, the difficulty of drawing a breath, of being someone that you are not becomes a burden rather than a game.
    We all wear masks from time to time.  There is the church mask, the teacher mask, the good parent mask, and the look how good, kind, caring, dependable, wealthy, spiritual, honest, capable, and politically correct I am mask.  These are the faces that we present on Facebook, at our jobs, and to the greater world.
     We want to show the world our best side, our perfect self, and not admit that inside we are broken, lonely, and needy.
     A few weeks ago, I shared about Mary bathing Jesus feet with her tears, wiping His feet with her hair, and anointing Him with precious perfume.  Mary had removed her mask to sit at her Savior’s feet.  She set every other thing aside and pressed in to Jesus.
     It feels risky to take the mask off.  Like Mary, we may suffer criticism from other mask wearing people.  But God sees the real us, and He, who is love, loves us.
    For you have died and life is hidden with Christ in God.  ~Col. 3:3
    The only covering for a believer is the blood of Jesus,  Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Great Jack O'Lantern Blaze

      A friend told us about the Great Jack O’Lantern Blaze. So of course, we had to go.  (The picture's were taken in 2013.)
     A few notes about the Blaze.  The Blaze is located at Van Courtland Manor in Croton on the Hudson.  It runs from the beginning of October through mid-November.  Tickets sell out weeks in advance.  Put it in your calendar for next year.

    The Blaze was really amazing. Imagine more than 5,000 individually hand-carved and illuminated jack o’lanterns elaborately displayed.  You could walk through the display for a week and still find something that you hadn’t noticed before.

A Jack O'Lantern Devotional

     We all start out like pumpkins.  Out in the pumpkin patch with all of the other pumpkins.  God walks in the garden and selects us out of the world.
     When we say yes to Him, God gently washes us.  Then He lovingly cleans us of the gooey gunk in our hearts.

Tunnel of Love

     God carefully removes the sinful seeds of doubt, pride, bitterness, hate, and guilt from within us.  He replaces them with the seeds of faith, hope, and love.

A huge pumpkin jack in the box.

      Then God carves a new smiling face.    2 Corinthians 5:17 says that “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!”   Our countenance is forever changed by the power of His presence in our life.

      Like a candle set in our pumpkin head we glow with Jesus, the Son of Light. He shines through our life for all to see. His light shines through us to reveal His presence.

      Jesus said,

You are the light of the world.
A city set on a hill can not be hidden.
Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.
In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in Heaven.”

     Our little pumpkin hearts are never the same with Jesus inside of us.

Safe in the Storm

Unknown: See note below.

     About three o’clock in the morning Jesus came to them, walking on the water.  When the disciples saw him they screamed in terror, thinking He was a ghost.  But Jesus spoke to them at once.  “It’s all right,” He said, “I am here!  Don’t be afraid.”  Then Peter called to him, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you by walking on water,”
     “All right, come,” He said.  So Peter went over the side of the boat and walked on the water toward Jesus.  But when he looked around at the high waves, he was terrified and began to sink.
     “Save me, Lord!” He shouted.  Instantly Jesus reached out his hand and grabbed him.  “You don’t have much faith, “Jesus said.  “Why did you doubt me?”  And when they climbed back into the boat, the wind stopped.  ~Matthew 14:25-32

     When most of the disciples first glimpsed Jesus walking to them on the water, they cried out in terror believing Him to be a ghost, a phantom, something frightening and insubstantial.  A ghost was not capable of dealing with a storm in the real world.  The waves were high. The boat was filling with water and their lives were in danger.  The disciples didn’t want a ghost, they wanted a savior.
     But then Peter boldly called out to Jesus to let him come to Him.  Peter climbed out of the boat onto the raging water.  Peter wanted to be where Jesus was, even if that meant stepping out of the comparative safety of the boat and into the violent storm.  Peter faltered when he saw the waves crashing, and felt the strength of the wind whipping through his hair and clothes.  Bedraggled and wet, Peter started to sink deep into the depths.  But his Saviors hand took a firm grasp on his. Stumbling and clinging, Peter was led back to the boat.  Peter held tight to Jesus. Jesus did not feel like a ghost.  Jesus felt like a rock.  Peter found safety in his Savior’s arms.
     We can falter in our walks, too.  When we focus on our circumstances and take our eyes off the Lord and His promises, we sink into hopelessness and fear.   Peter was clearly afraid, but he knew enough to cry out to Jesus, the only source of help.  Jesus reached out, grabbed hold of Peter’s hand, and walked with him back to the boat.  The swirling winds ceased.
     The secret of facing any kind of storm is not to watch the thunderous waves.  The way through is to focus on the God who is in complete control.  God knows when to watch us walk on the water and when to pull us up from the bottom of the sea.  He will calm the fierce and seemingly relentless wind.  He will calm the storm raging in our life.  Trust Him with all of your heart.  We may get wet, but He will not allow us to drown.
     One of my most popular posts shows the time that my children walked on water.   I think that you will enjoy it.

PS:  A few weeks ago I came across the incredible painting at the top of this post.  I have been unable to find out who the artist is.  If you know, or should this painting be yours, please tell me.  I would love to give credit.

This post was featured at Create With Joy.

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.

Bedford Gray

    Pat left me in the paint department at Home Depot while he picked up the other widgets and supplies he needed for one or more of the dozen’s of projects going on in our house.  My task was to choose the perfect paint color for our kitchen and family room which form a long rectangle.  It had to be a color that I would love and Pat would like.  I wanted a grayish taupe.  The color had to be neutral, but not boring.  Up to date, but not too trendy.  It had to say this place is home, sit stay awhile, and be comfortable, but not be a snooze-fest.  It had to look good when the sun was streaming through the window and when the day was cloudy.  It had to coordinate with the floor tile, the cabinets, and the brick on the fireplace.  It had to be perfect.
     I arrived at Home Depot armed with a list of about ten different colors in several paint brands.  I had notes that I had diligently copied from websites and Pinterest.  Colors with names like Agreeable Gray, Balboa Mist, Mineral, Edgecomb Gray, Woodrow Wilson Putty, Gallery Buff, and Sandy Hook.  I could picture the color in my imagination.  The question was, could I find it among the paint displays.  Slowly I searched, pausing over likely colors.  I checked my list.  I lay paint chips across the gleaming stainless steel counter.  I held each chip up to a white piece of trim to check out the contrast.  Pat stopped in now and then to check my progress.  Finally, I  settled on Martha Stewart’s Bedford Gray.  The very color that Martha Stewart has in her own kitchen!
     The bottom of the walls in our kitchen/family room are white beadboard.  The top of the walls had been freshly sheet rocked, puttied, and sanded.  Pat and I were excited to see the gray sheetrock covered by my beautiful new perfect color.  The big moment had arrived.  The paint included the primer, so it wasn’t necessary to prime the wall first.  I poured the paint into the tray.  I had great expectations for this color.  Holding my breath, I rolled the paint onto the wall, and it promptly blended right in to the gray color of the sheetrock!

    “There are thousands of colors and you choose sheetrock gray, Donna.  I wouldn’t have picked that one,” stated my beloved husband as he left to work on one of the other projects.
     Feeling more than a little disappointed in my color choice, I nevertheless rolled it up on the wall.  It was hard to tell where I had been, because wet, Bedford Gray really is the color of sheetrock.  Pat shook his head each time he walked through the room.  Patty came home from work, sat in the kitchen where the paint smell lingered in the air and thought I had repainted the trim, while she was looking at my freshly painted walls.
     But fortunately for me, paint dries darker than it looks wet.  The Bedford Gray dried overnight to a really wonderful warm gray that met all of my expectations.  Pat is even pleased with the color.  Martha Stewart really does know her way around a kitchen.

     I had a long list of expectations and requirements for so simple a thing as a can of  paint.  Were I to be asked to make a list of expectations that God would require of me, I would have a document containing bullet points and details for behavior and thoughts in all manner of situations. I would have separate sections for marriage, parenting, words of wisdom, and relating to others.  There would be pages of “Must Do’s,” “Should Do’s,” and “Don’t You Dare Do’s.”
     It helps me to shed these unrealistic expectations when I read what the prophet Micah wrote.
     He has showed you O man, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God  ~Micah 6:8
     Not a long list.  Love mercy.  Be just.  And walk in a humble relationship with God.  Walking in a relationship with God, is not a matter of performance.  It’s a matter of love.  God loves us, even when we mess up.  Even when others think, “I wouldn’t have picked that one.”  God does not accept you after you become good enough, He loves you just as you are.
     God’s expectations are perfect because He knows us perfectly and loves us completely.  He knows exactly what we are, and are not, capable of.
     Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you;  I have called you by name, you are mine.  You are precious in my eyes, because you are honored and I love you…the mountains may depart, the hills be shaken, but my love for you will never leave you and my covenant of peace with you will never be shaken.  ~Isaiah 43:1,4; 54:10
     Our worth and value are not in our possessions, talents, esteem, income, or reputation.  We are His Beloved, and that is expectation enough.

Cinderella

     Twenty one years ago, my friend Janie  asked me to pray for her neighbor, Lori, who had just given birth to her fourth son.  As the mother of three boys the same ages as Lori’s first three, I understood completely why she needed prayer.  Shortly afterwards, at a church potluck, Pat and I met Lori and Denis and the four of us became close friends.
     God has a sense of humor.  The Lori and I who did not know each other, had married the man of our dreams on the same day, honeymooned in Disney World in the same hotel, had mother-in-laws named Florence, and gave birth to sons, and only sons, in fairly rapid succession.  The only way for either of us to have a daughter, was for me to adopt our Patty.  Our boys played soccer together.  Lori’s were the talented ones, mine, unfortunately, had their mother’s athletic prowess.
     Over camping trips, shoe shopping, family dinners, celebrations, weddings, and hospital visits, our lives and hearts have been knit together with love.

Keke Palmer was Cinderella and Sherri Shepherd the Wicked Stepmother.

     Lori and I were even born just three days apart.  Each year we celebrate our birthdays together.  It has been harder since we lost Denis three years ago right before Lori’s birthday.
     Last week, Lori and I went to see the Broadway musical Cinderella.  The music was by Rogers and Hammerstein, which means the songs were the ones that we remembered from childhood.  Cinderella was a movie that came on once a year starring Leslie Ann Warren.  I remember, my wonderful teacher assigned it as homework.  It was the best homework ever!  Oh, how I loved that movie.
     Lori and I were transported to France in the days of Princes, Fairy Godmothers, Ball Gowns, sparkly shoes, white horses, and Royal Banquets.  It was magical when Cinderella’s rags changed into a sparkly white poofy tulle gown complete with tiara and updo before our very eyes.  Lori and I were amazed. We could not figure out how it was done.
     I was once a freckle-faced, tinsel toothed Cinderella rescued by a young prince named Jack.  You can read the fairytale Embracing Your Cinderella, The Ball, and Midnight.
     The story of Cinderella is something everyone can relate to.  Feeling alone and unworthy, working hard for people who just don’t appreciate you, the monotony of doing the same things day after day, being treated like a servant instead of the child of a King.
     But God gives us beauty for ashes.
    In Bible times it was a custom for people to, like Cinderella, sit in ashes during times of great mourning or difficulty.  But the scripture says that God will take our difficult, depressing situation and give us beauty.  He will pick us up out of the ash pile in life and make something beautiful out of us.  He will wrap us in the white robe of salvation.

I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True.  With justice he judges and makes war.  His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns.  He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God.  The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean…. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:  King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  ~Revelation 19:11-16

       I pray for all of you a true fairy tale ending.  May you marry the Son of the King.  I will see you at the Banquet.

See My Hands

Pat & I spelling "Love."

      Jesus may have been crucified and His body buried in a tomb, but, here is the  important part - He didn’t stay there.  Jesus rose from the grave.  Shortly after, He appeared to His disciples.

    Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!"    But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."
    A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!"  Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."  Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!"  Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."   ~John 20:24-29

       Jesus ever so gently restored Thomas.   “Put your finger here, see my hands.”
      “See my hands.”  Thomas had most recently seen those hands pierced by cruel nails at the crucifixion.  He had also seen those same hands cause the blind to see, raise the dead, tenderly bless a child, comfort the grieving, break bread, and wash his own dirty feet.
      Jesus used those nail scared hands to express His great love for us.  Cuts on the palm of your hand ensure that no matter how busy you are, you will notice and pay attention to them.  Every small amount of pressure reminds you that they are there.
     Jesus told Thomas, “See my hands.”
     In Isaiah 49:16, God the Father also said “See my hands,”   He said, "See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."   The word translated "engraved" means to cut.  God has cut us into his hands.  He can not forget us.  We are His.  He redeemed us with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.
     To Thomas, Jesus said "Put your finger here, see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe!
     In the same way, our heavenly Father is reaching out to us, saying, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; I cannot forget you, I have redeemed you... stop doubting and believe!”

Memorial Day

     I carry a planner around with me most everyplace I go.  In it I keep my lists of things to do, properly categorized and dated, of course.  The thing is that I tend to be forgetful.  Oh, I don’t mean to be.  It’s just that sometimes I am carrying so much in my mind that things get away from me.

     But there are some things that I will never forget.

• Being sent to the principals office when I was seven for singing "I'm a Believer by the Monkees on the school bus.  I was a big fan of Davy Jones.
• The day my son set the lawn on fire.
• The moment I knew that I loved Pat.  We were on a train after a pretty disastrous first date.
• My first glimpse of each of each of our children.
• How soft my grandmother’s cheek was and how she smelled of tea.
• Patrick swearing in to the Navy on August 27, 2001 and a few weeks later the planes hitting the Towers.

     Tomorrow is Memorial Day.  A day set aside to remember those who have died so that we could be free.  Because of those who sacrificed, we have the right to assemble in church on a Sunday morning.  We have the right to live at peace in our homes.  We have the right to pursue happiness, to be educated, and to disagree with our government.

     Memorial Day is a day for us to remember the price that was paid for our freedom.

Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard.  ~Revelation 3:3

     God directed the Israelites to celebrate a “Memorial Day” to help them remember major events in their history.  Passover was celebrated each year to commemorate their miraculous deliverance from slavery in Egypt. When Jesus ate His last Passover meal, He instituted a new memorial to commemorate the deliverance that He would accomplish on the cross for all of us who believe.  He shared the bread and wine with his disciples and instructed them “do this in memory of Me.”   Jesus won the war against death and sin.  He paid the cost for our salvation.

     Once a year we celebrate Memorial Day, but for a Believer, everyday is a day to remember the One who died so that we could be free.

     Can you sing "I'm a Believer?"

Shame Free

     A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a faculty meeting and admittedly, not paying attention.  Now lots of people don’t pay attention in meetings, but this meeting was about getting our students to pay attention.  A colleague was sharing an example of a technique called a “Whip Around” to get students engaged in her lesson.
    Then she said, “Quick, name a country in Europe.  Joan?”
     “Spain,” Joan stated.
     “Donna.”  I quickly replayed what I had almost heard.  “London.”  I responded with false confidence.  Polite laughter filled the room.  Still oblivious, I reviewed my response and decided that I had correctly answered the question.
     The teacher did not correct me, there may or may not have been eye rolling.  She moved on to her next victim, “Ellen?”
     Ellen had been paying attention, but was confused by my brilliance.  After a moment, she called out “Sweden.”  That was when I realized that I had named a city in Europe and not a country.
     Yup.  During a lesson on paying attention,  my mind was out to lunch.  My cheeks burned flaming red.  I wanted to hide under the table.
     Can you recall a time when you opened your mouth and inserted your foot?  It’s not fun to feel inadequate, embarrassed, and ashamed.
     The world tells us to be perfect.  The perfect teacher, the perfect student, the perfect spouse, the perfect child, the perfect parent, the perfect employee, the perfect employer, the perfect Christian. Evidence is gathered in a neat little binder.  There is no room for error.  We must measure up and if we don’t, there are consequences.  Often, we feel guilty or ashamed.
     There is a difference between guilt and shame.  Guilt is the result of our doing something that we should not have done.  Shame results when we are not the person we think that we should be. Guilt says, “What I did was not good.”  Shame says, “I am no good.”  Guilt says, “I did something wrong.”  Shame says, “There is something wrong with me.” Guilt says, “I’ve made a mistake.”  Shame says, “I am a mistake.”
     God does not create mistakes.  We are people in need of forgiveness and grace.
     Guilt moves us to ask for forgiveness.  Shame immobilizes us and weighs us down.  Shame convinces us that our sin is worse than the sin of others.  We have trouble believing that God can use us.  How can I serve?  I can’t do that.  I can’t do anything significant.  I’m not enough.
     People burdened by shame are who Jesus had in mind when he invited the “weary and heavy laden” to take His yoke and find rest.
     Jesus sought me with love and mercy.  He sees who I am and what I have done, and He loves me anyway.  Jesus takes away my shame.

     I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.  Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.  ~Psalm 34:4-5

     God made a way for our wounded hearts to be restored.  He freely gives us peace, love, forgiveness, hope, and grace.  He heals our shame.

     The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart,” that is, the message concerning faith that we proclaim: If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.  For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.  As Scripture says, “Anyone who believes in him will never be put to shame.”   ~Romans 10:8-11

     Jesus meets us where we are, just as we are.  He knows what lurks in the corners of our hearts and mind.  He loves us individually and personally.  Leave your shame with Jesus, the Author and Finisher of your faith.

Leaving LoDebar

A figure from the fountain at the Bronx Zoo

     Mephibosheth was a grandson of the first King of Israel - King Saul.  King Saul had died and David, of David and Goliath fame, had become the new king.  It was very common for ancient rulers to kill the relatives of a previous king in order to further establish their own claim to the throne and eliminate any competitors.  Mephibosheth was five years old when the news came that both his father and grandfather had died.  His nurse picked him up and fled to save his life.  Unfortunately, in the chaotic turmoil, Mephibosheth was dropped and his legs were permanently damaged.
     Fifteen years passed.  Mephibosheth grew to be a man, still dreading the knock on the door, hidden away in a town called  “the place of no pasture,” LoDebar.   LoDebar was barren and desolate, a place without nourishing green grass.  Mephibosheth went from prince to servant, from the lushness of the palace to a land of desolation, from wholeness to cripple, from security to fear.  Mephibosheth expected to die on the sword of the king, instead he received a blessing

     David asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?’  Now there was a servant of Saul’s household named Ziba.  They called him to appear before David.  The king asked, “Is there no one still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?”  Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in both feet.”  He is in Lo Debar.”  So King David had him brought from LoDebar.  When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor.  David said, “Mephibosheth!”
     “Your Servant.”
      “Don’t be afraid for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan.  I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.”
     Mephibosheth bowed down and said, “What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?”
     Then the king summoned Ziba, Saul’s servant, and said to him, “I have given your master’s grandson everything that belonged to Saul and his family.  You and your sons and your servants are to farm the land for him and bring in the crops, so that your master’s grandson may be provided for.
     So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table like one of the king’s sons.  Mephibosheth had a young son named Mica, and Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table and he was crippled in both feet.  ~2 Samuel 9:1-13  Edited for length, but not meaning.  Please read this in your Bible for the complete text.

     When Mephibosheth met David, he fell flat on his face in submission and recognition of his tenuous situation.  He confessed that he had the worth of a dead dog, back when a dog was just a dog. Crippled Mephibosheth was restored by the anointed king.  He was invited to dine at the king’s table, to share the king’s bread, and to sit in the place of the king’s sons.  Instead of living in the place of no pasture, Mephibosheth lived in Jersualem, the king’s city, the city of peace.  He was no longer a helpless and poor cripple hiding in fear.  He was a wealthy and powerful man who enjoyed daily access to the king.
     Mephibosheth is a picture of you and of me.  An unhappy sinner hiding and running from God; exiled in LoDebar.  We have been made lame, dropped while running for our lives.  We do not walk the way that we should.  We know that someday we, too, will have to face the King.
     But the merciful Father rescued us through His Son.  Thanks to Jesus; His life, His death and His resurrection, we are suddenly taken out of LoDebar and invited to the city of peace.  We are brought to the banquet table in the household of the King. We are no longer orphaned and lonely.  We are made rich in Jesus and through Him have direct access to the King of Kings.
     Jesus says:

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.  ~Revelations 3:20

     Mephibosheth continued to be lame in both feet, but now those feet were under the king’s table.  I invite you today, to leave LoDebar and place your crippled feet under the King’s table.

"I Am Tired of This Life Lord"

     I started Holimess as a place to put what I share at Church on Sunday mornings, but it has expanded to include book reviews, recipes, and even diy projects - at least the ones that I finish.   Through Holimess, I have become friends with people that I have never actually met in person.  I know about their families and struggles and they know about mine.

    Those of you who have blogs know this, but for those who are readers, let me explain that there is an area for the writer called Stats.  Stats is important to tell you how many people have visited your blog, what they have read, and where they are from.  It will also   tell you what Google searches have brought people to your blog.  My most popular post, by far, is Lizards, Snakes, and Prayers about going to a Reptile Exhibit with Patty and Patrick.  I took a picture of Patrick and a man who is a famous Youtube snake expert.  Because I am clueless, I did not know this when I took the picture.  The man is Chewy from Snakebytes.  If you google Chewy Snakebytes under Images, that picture comes up first.

     Typical Holimess google searches are things like “Jesus, I believe,”  “Buying cookies at Grand Central,” “Breast cancer,” “Cake Boss,” and assorted scripture verses.  But this week, I had a Google search that tugged at my heart.  Someone had googled, “I am tired of this life Lord.” 

     When I noticed this search, I immediately offered the person to God in prayer.  While I do not know the source of their pain, God does.  I asked God to hold them gently in His hands. To give them support and encouragement.  To let them know that whatever battle they are facing, they are not alone.  To breathe upon their situation and to bring them grace, healing and peace.
     But over the week, I kept thinking and praying about the depth of pain that could lead a person to google “I am tired of this life lord.”  I wondered if when they got to Holimess they landed on a post that God could use to provide support.  (God has been known to use a talking donkey so I guess He can probably use me.)  So I repeated the search “I am tired of this life Lord” to see if I could figure out what post Google would have led them to.  I went through pages of the search on the web, but found nothing.  It wasn’t until I switched over to images, that I found a familiar picture.  About half way down the first page of images was a picture of Patty running in a bubble ball on the water at Otter Lake.  I clicked through to my post.

      Memories washed over me.  Our first summer camping at Otter Lake with our friends, Denis and Lori.  I still had burn marks on my chest from radiation treatments.  I was tired, very tired, but happy.  Life was renewing its rhythms.  Hope blossomed.  My children were walking on water.

      I want to assure the weary searcher that Jesus knows what it is like to be tired and hard pressed.  Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
     On the night before His crucifixion, Jesus went to pray in a grove of olive trees called the Garden of Gethsemane.  A “gethsemane” was a huge stone basin where olives were crushed by another large round stone that was rolled around by yoked oxen until the oil flowed. When we feel tired of this life and pressed on every side, our Lord Jesus – who was crushed beneath the weight of undeserved condemnation  and hung on a cross for my sins and yours, feels your weariness.  He invites us to exchange our yoke for His. Jesus is more than able and willing to bear our burdens.  The grace that He offers is weightless.
     In Psalms it says ‘Be still and know that I am God’.  Come before God, away from the noise, away from the commotion, away from the busyness. Not with a shopping list, not with a list of demands, but actually with no words at all – just with a heart that is open to listen.
And in the quietness, in the stillness, in the tranquillity – the voice of God whispers and we become refreshed.

     Underneath the wind, the waves, the weariness, and even the bubble, are the everlasting arms of God.



This post was mentioned by Karmen at Chairs From the Curb.  Karen shares about life, family, and  old chairs.  I loved her post about riding horses on the beach.

Book Review: Unbroken

Source

     When I was in high school, I had a math teacher who had survived the attack at Pearl Harbor.  I remember him telling us about that awful day with tears streaming down his face.  He shared with us the sorrowful loss of friends, the terrible shock, and the overwhelming confusion.  As a self absorbed teen, I did not understand what a gift he gave us.  I could not imagine anything like that ever happening in my lifetime.  Now, of course, I can.
     The amazing story of the life of Louis Zamperini is expertly shared in the book Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand.   Zamperini was a boy with a knack for trouble.  He led a life of juvenile delinquency, frequently stealing anything that could be eaten.  He played elaborate pranks and was well known by the local police.
     Louis’ brother introduced him to running.  He could run like the wind.  Louis competed in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin.  Incredibly, he met Hitler and stole a German flag off of the Reich Chancellery.
     When World War 2 began, Louis gave up preparing for the 1940 Olympics and enlisted in the Army Air Corp, becoming a bombardier.  On a May afternoon in 1943, Louis was on a routine search mission for a lost plane when his plane went down into the Pacific.  What happens over the next years, would require every skill that Louis has to survive.
     I read this incredible story with our library book club.  The members all agreed, and believe me that does not always happen, that Unbroken was wonderfully written, meticulously researched, and inspiring.  Unbroken draws you in and won’t let you go.
     It is soon to be released as a movie.
     Have you read Unbroken?


PS:  I did not receive payment to review Unbroken.  I purchased it on Amazon.  If you should click from my page to Amazon to purchase it, you will not pay more.  I might make a small amount through your purchase.

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,