My mind’s eye can clearly see that quaint “Norman Rockwell” type street in Farmington, Maine. It was early summer, but still spring-like weather. It is joked that Maine has only three seasons, July, August, and winter. We were enjoying a typically Maine July day. The road was lined with eager faces, anticipating a glimpse of the distinguished five-star general war hero who now bore the title, Commander–in-Chief.
This past Summer, some good friends of ours hosted a BBQ at their home. The host and hostess, incredibly friendly people, invited a lot of guests. Men and women mingled about, while the yard crawled with kids. In an effort to ease the restroom traffic indoors, our friends rented a porta-potty for outdoors. I have made it my personal mission in life to avoid porta-potties. They’re just...disgusting.
Soon enough, my five-year-old daughter had to go potty. I assessed the situation. The party had just started, so I didn't think anyone else had been in there. It looked fairly newish. No strong odors lurking about. And I knew my friend would only rent the best.
Resigned, I took Faith’s hand, and we entered the structure. So far, so good. All was well. Just as we were about to make our exit, and be home free, Faith grabbed a round disk and proceeded to wash her hands. Did I mention the round disk was in the urinal? Screaming, I snatched my girl, and we rushed outside to find some hand sanitizer.
A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. - Mark 4:37, 38 NIV
"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you and deliver you from captivity." -Jeremiah 29:12-13
Driving and I don't always get along. I admit that I should pay better attention to my motoring skills. From the scrape on the passenger door of my mini-van to the cracked bumper, I have participated in enough fender-benders to keep my insurance agent in business. We were so excited about our summer vacation to Yellowstone National Park this year! As we got ready to go, we researched everything - the geysers, the falls, the lake, the wildlife - we just couldn't wait to see the beauty of the national treasure.
The first day of the trip we were eager to stand in awe of Old Faithful and the amazing show it would perform just for us. Our expectations were about as high as the mountain tops that create Yellowstone’s landscape.
But an hour inside the gate, I turned to my husband and had to wonder if he was following the right road. It was silly, of course - there is only one road- but the path we were on, wound through what I quickly labeled The Deadwood Forest. Huge trees, remnants of a fire, stood in stark contrast to the lush vegetation that defined the rest of the park.
At the end of the summer blooming season, I walked through Wal-Mart’s outdoor flower pavilion. Leftovers of potted plants stood in half-wilted condition, the result of Kansas heat and a shortage of water.
Although most of the plants seemed beyond help, I noticed a large pot of purple vining geraniums. At the height of the season, this particular pot cost $35 – way over my budget. But the current price tag was stamped only $4.50. I picked it up and claimed it as mine.
This past year, I was blessed with an opportunity to travel to Burundi, Africa. Our purpose was to bring water units to villages that didn't have clean drinking water. These units produce a chlorine that makes water safe to drink. We were there to bless the people.
Burundi is one of the ten poorest countries in the world, and it shows. As the plane landed, my friends and I were instantly sobered by the living conditions. We viewed crowded, filthy streets framed by door-less mud houses, dirty and half naked children running about unattended, while their shoe-less parents worked hard in their fields. A pastor named Jean Marie met us, and was our host for the week. As we spent time with him, he reminded me of the Apostle Paul. Always thanking God, and always proclaiming blessings from Him.
My lip recently encountered the back door of the van. It was a rental and the edge of the door protruded further from the handle than in our own van. When I pulled it down, I stood too close and whacked myself with the door.
I went back into the store I just left and got some ice. I’m sure I looked ridiculous driving down the road holding a plastic bag to my upper lip. Due to the ice, my face was not black and blue, but I still felt the bruise underneath. It left quite an impression.
Every time we encounter the world, it leaves an impression. We may not see the evidence on the surface of our life, but underneath the swelling is there. Our words and actions may not change right away but our thoughts and intentions will slowly begin to shift if we don’t take measures to lessen the impact.
Worrywart should have been my middle name. Even before the age of 10, my brain was wracked with numerous anxieties. My childhood was defined by weight worries, fitting in worries and school worries.
At nine I started subscribing to Weight Watchers and exercising to Richard Simmons workout tapes because I was concerned that my belly pooched out too much in a swimsuit. Forget peer pressure. There was more than enough pressure coming from me to make all A’s at all costs.
I had just returned from one of those shopping trips that makes your cart look like you were trying to win the contest for how much you can fit in one cart without anything falling out. As I put the groceries away, I discovered three items I'd left behind - nightlight bulbs, dog food and Parmesan cheese.
Like it or not, they couldn't wait and would require another trip to the store. My bark machine surely wasn't going to wait until the next restocking trip and my youngest feels more comfort when her little light shines. As a one income household with three children, pasta is often on the menu and while the cheese wasn't a neccesity, it sure makes those dinners a little more fun.
I’ll be the first to admit — I am obsessed with the familial promises of God throughout scripture. There is one passage I focus on quite often when praying for my family members.
“…Be not afraid of them, remember the Lord, which is great and terrible, and ‘fight for your brethren, yours sons, and your daughters, your wives and your houses. And it came to pass when our enemies heard that it was known unto us, and God had brought their counsel to nought that we returned all of us to the wall, every one unto his work.” - Nehemiah 4:14b-15.There's a battle raging for the lives of our children and grandchildren. We don’t wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities in high places. (Eph. 8:12) But the victory over the cunning tricks and traps the enemy brings against our family is ours when we do battle on our knees.
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