Perky Chaplains

August 19, 2014 I must confess: I was a bit put off by the chaplain's visit yesterday to Uncle Wayne's bedside. In she breezed, blonde hair in a loose pony tail, full of life, and a smile as big as Texas. Her voice was chirpy and her attitude was "I'm here. Let's get to business!" It didn't seem to matter to her that we were in the midst of a conversation or that she might be interrupting something. Oh no: she was here and she had a job to do. Introductions were short and to the point. Her focus was not on us but rather the fella in the bed who was on her list. Boldly she declared she was here to pray and before Wayne could quite acquiesce, off she went, murmuring some flighty, cheerful prayer about how in the name of Jesus we loved Him and praised Him; how she was declaring victory for Wayne to heal and to walk right out of this hospital, and again, how much we all loved the Lord. Seemed like she was in and out in a blink, as we all kind of stood back and wondered what had hit us. It bothered me. The more I pondered it, the more conflicted I became. I mean, seriously, who was this woman? Yeah, her tag said she was the chaplain but...Aren't chaplains supposed to be these more formal creatures who nod solemnly and sit you in a chair and pat your hand while you tell them all about it, whatever "it" may be? Aren't they supposed to linger and let you bog them down with all of your needs, as well as those of your loved one who is aching in his/her own right? And that prayer? Ridiculous! How dare she assume we all love Jesus and that our number one desire was for Wayne to be healed so that he could indeed walk out of the hospital, even though his paralysis barely allowed him half of a body to use? And what was with all of this "Praise Jesus" stuff? Didn't she know that we were in a storm and rejoicing in this suffering was not our number one priority? Okay faithful readers, you know what is coming next. Ol' Stef is about to be corrected. Gently, 'cause that's the way her Lord is. This morning in my inbox I had a prayer request from someone I don't know, asking me to join with her in prayer about a personal matter. I sighed within myself as I thought once again, "How am I supposed to pray for someone that I don't know, that I don't know what is wrong with specifically, and to pray in a way that is helpful and encouraging?" Yeah, you guessed it. Ding ding ding! We have a winner! It's really quite easy, isn't it? There is a request, a need, a cry for help (even if the cry barely comes out as a whisper). There is someone nearby who is in touch with our Father, who knows how great He is and how worthy He is of praise in good times and in the bad ones too. He promised to hear us when two or more gather in His name. He is the Great Physician so how absolutely foolish it would be to not ask Him to use His healing powers on our loved ones! Okay, I got it. Again, Lord. Miss Breezy Blonde Chaplain from yesterday: I am sorry. I misjudged you, criticized your cheerful attitude (which in hindsight was really quite pleasant when there was so much sobriety in the air), and brushed off your cavalier attitude of going from room to room as "just a job" rather than as a calling to spread light, to spread cheer, to offer hope, and to talk to Jesus on people's behalfs when they may not have the words to utter and can only hold on to your hand for hope, for relief. Sigh. Please forgive me Lord, for doubting this gal's intentions. Thank You for putting her in my path for a reason: to be both a blessing and a lesson. May she continue to shine brightly for You in her calling and I pray that many more are blessed by this sweet lady. In Jesus' name I pray, with head bowed low in shame but rising as I see the Light. Amen!

Keys

August 13, 2014 Keys. We all have them. Some are for our homes. Others are for our cars. Lockers, desks, filing cabinets. Safes. Ahh, the safes. The places we keep our treasures--both of material and sentimental value. Let's explore these holding places for a moment, shall we? When I was a kid, I had a trunk. You know those kind that were cheaply made but many of us had? They came with a lock but if one was smart, one added a padlock of some sort so that it could not be easily broken into, which unfortunately I didn't have at this stage of the game. The lock that was affixed to my trunk could truthfully be opened with a good knife or clothes hanger. I also had a diary. Same concept. It came with an itty bitty lock on it that had this minuscule key that somehow was supposed to convince the writers that their secrets were safe as long as no one else had access to the key. Well, I don't know about you but I had two nosy sisters and one bratty brother when I grew up. This fact caused me much reason to fear and guard my privacy! I kept those keys close to my heart. Literally. I made a necklace that I kept both keys on so that my siblings did not have easy access to my most sacred thoughts and possessions that I innocently and reverently wrote about in my diary and stored in my trunk. Some people used to bury their worldly savings. Hiding things under mattresses, making time capsules to bury in the backyard, and stashing away money in the barn or under a rock or what have you was often common for those who mistrusted the banks. Old coffee cans were sometimes also places of hiding special monies. Folks could get quite creative in the endeavor to hide the things they valued most. So, what about the things we have hidden in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls? What things are buried deeply within the recesses of our most private parts that perhaps have been corrupted with mold, tarnished by truths that have lessened their values but yet we still refuse to part with? What about those memories that have bound us for years because we have refused to let them see the light of day and have not allowed ourselves to take them out of their hiding spots? Afraid, perhaps, that the light might actually reveal their true worth rather than the value we have (falsely?) placed on them? Yesterday, I was rummaging about in on older filing cabinet and found some letters that had been written to me. One-- from my niece Jill--caused me to laugh out loud as she pondered some of the things going on in her life. Another was from my sister Mary who had written about how she really loved me, valued me, and how my family and I were the only ones she believed loved her in return. Bittersweet words. And then, later in the day, there were the emails in my computer files that I glanced over as I went to an old account that I rarely use while searching for some log in information for Lowe's. Digital letters from my mother were there, begging me to open them and if I would, they promised to bring alive feelings that really just don't need to be reawakened. The old me would have read them and bled over them but the new Stef? Ahh, the smarter Stef realized I didn't need to be a prisoner of my past. The devil would have loved nothing more than to damage my calm and reopen wounds that are still healing. As my hubby is so fond of saying, "You just have to be smarter than what you are working with." I don't dare to say I am smarter than Satan but this time, this time, I made the conscious, concentrated choice to not go back to the prison of negativity and despair. The key was in my hand and I decided to not open that door, to not be chained once again to a past that I cannot change. I found the information I needed for Lowe's and I returned to my regularly scheduled programming that did not involve walking down Memory Lane. In conclusion, like The Eagles sang, "I'm already gone. And I'm feeling strong. I will sing this victory song: Woo Hoo Hoo. Woo hoo hoo!" I don't have to be enslaved to things of my past that only hurt me. I don't have to keep those keys close to my heart and be a masochist. I don't have to live my life in chains. Jesus Christ set me free and He whom the Son has set free is free indeed. He broke the bonds of prison for me. Yes, the devil is not happy about this and I am just so sure he will attack again. And again. He wants me in bondage but with Christ in me, I have the key. The choice to either open up those painful doors of regret, shame, and hurt or to leave them locked up, impenetrable, and remain in love and peace is mine. Guess which one I chose? Dear Lord, What a wonderful Saviour You are. Saved me from my past, from my haunts and hurts, from my feelings of inadequacy, from the dysfunction I faced for so long. You gave me the power through Your love to make better choices, to have second, third, and eightieth chances. You saved me from sin and darkness and brought me into the light, into Your light. Thank You, Jesus! I can indeed do all things through Christ Who strengtheneth me. Hallelujah and oh what a Saviour! I love You, Lord. Thanks for loving me first and teaching me what real love is. You are the best! Amen.

Even as I post this photo, the song "Why Can't We Be Friends?" is playing in my head. That's just the way I am. My dear friend (that I wrote about yesterday) and I were having one of those Facebook private chats that we do every so often and she floated a line from a Billy Joel song (Only The Good Die Young) in our conversation. I always think of her during this song anyway so it was just icing on the cake! How I love music! Turn on my iPod and you are likely to hear Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Conway Twitty, Alabama, The Eagles, Kelly Clarkson, Seals and Crofts, Madonna, Third Day, Bebo Norman, Alanis Morissette, Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan, Carly Simon, John Denver...I have quite the eclectic taste. I've almost always got a song running through my mind, and--like the picture depicts--those lyrics can pop out at any given moment. I am learning to control that better in my new role as a granny but still...sometimes they just don't stop. When they do and just float around instead inside of my head, they can elicit all kinds of moods, thoughts, and memories. In the Bible, we are told how music was used to soothe. David playing his harp is a prime example. Songs of victory were expressed often in the Psalms, as were songs of loneliness and questioning. Praise and worship music is not anything new and--thankfully--continues to this day. How many of us have not been exposed to the old hymn "Amazing Grace" and the modernized version of it by Chris Tomlin "My Chains Are Gone" as he revised it and added to it? Now that's much better running through my head than the previously mentioned one! Today, as you set about to enjoy your weekend, make sure there is lots of music in it. Let it wash over you and fill you with joy. Sing happy songs, silly songs, songs that cause you to ponder as you miss someone. I love "Go Rest High on That Mountain" and "I Drive Your Truck" when I miss Mary. "Stop! In the Name of Love" reminds me of the time me, my mother, and my lovely Aunt Bo sang it on a karaoke machine at my niece Chastity's 16th birthday party. Tommy Roe's "Dizzy" takes me back to when I was a carefree kid in California, singing it as I went 'round and 'round and around in my front yard, holding one of my dolls as we twirled about. "One Touch" also moves me to a deeper reflection of how grateful I am that Jesus indeed touched the hem of my garment and made me whole, reminding me of the time my "Sisters" and I went to see Nicole C. Mullen at a women's conference years ago. As the O'Jays sang, "I love music." Don't you? I'd love to read some of your favorites and why they are so powerful to you so, please, share. Let's pray! Thank You Lord for Your blessings on me. Music: oh how You know I love it! I appreciate this wonderful gift You have provided for me and for so many others, Lord. For those You've blessed with the ability and talents to provide it, I thank You. May they use their voices and musical skills to uplift Your Name is my prayer. And, although You did not see fit to provide me with a tongue that sounds pretty when I sing, I thank You anyways for the ability to have a song in my heart. I'll praise You in my storms and in my daily ways. You are an awesome God and I love You! Amen!

Virg

August 8, 2014 I have this friend named Virginia. I've known her for most of my life. We went to high school together, where basically we were just acquaintances. However, once we went to college, our friendship was forged, and I began the adventure of a lifetime! The next two years were filled with so many new and exciting experiences. Virg faced life head on, embracing each day, and had an exuberance for it that was quite catchy. I idolized her and loved her fiercely. She was the part of me I didn't know was missing--nor existed--and the friendship we shared was one I have always treasured and held dear to my heart. One of the things that made our friendship work so well was our "Let's be honest" talks. We started them in our Freshmen year and had them late at night, in the dark where it was safe to be real with our emotions. We told each other things that no one else knew. Our fears were shared also. But the major thing? Well, we didn't call them "Let's be honest" for nothing. Honesty. Confession. Admission. Denial was not an option. The good, the bad, and the ugly were thrown out in our little dorm room as we evaluated who we were, who we weren't, and who we'd like to be. The things we did to drive each other crazy. The things we needed more of from one another. If one was being "inappropriate" during certain situations, this was addressed. If one was neglecting the other, this too was brought up. Some of the talks were hurtful. Toes and feet and even ankles were stepped upon as we ventured into this relationship head on. If she didn't like something I was doing and thought it harmful to me and my reputation, she had no qualms about telling me so. If I thought she was investing too much of herself for this guy (which really meant that she was spending more time with him than me and my jealousy was taking over) I let her know. In the darkness of that old Edna Moore room, nothing and everything was sacred. When morning came, the brightness of the sun shining was nothing to the happiness in my heart as I felt cleansed from our late night chats. James 5:16 states "Therefore confess your sins to each other..." Virg and I were quite adept at this but sometimes the talks got too scary as we became more honest with ourselves and with each other. We were eighteen years old, and the world was our oyster. While we enjoyed the talks for the most part, their honesty was often painful. How I wish we could have had more of Jesus in us back then so that the rest of the verse "...and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective" could have been implemented. Had we both been more settled in our salvation experience we could have really set the world on fire! That's not to say we didn't talk about Christ or the need for Him in our lives. We did. It just wasn't...it wasn't our time then. In our search for ourselves, we didn't realize the way we do now that had He been invited to our midnight confessions that we could have spared ourselves a lot of grief! That He was the missing third part of our little group. In conclusion, those late night "Let's be honest" confessions were healing times for me. Never before had I had someone love me enough to share my good and bad emotions and not run away screaming. Never before had I had someone care enough about me to call me out when I needed reprimanded but not with violence. Never before had I a friend like Virginia to teach me the ways of Christ without realizing what she was doing so at the time. She was loving me without condemnation, with gentleness and so much patience, and she was setting the bar that no woman has since even come close to for a friendship that has stood the test of time. Although time, distance, and decades have separated us, we still remain friends to this day and as we both have a clearer view of Christ and the way He took such great care of us during those daring days of college, my hope is that the next time we have one of those chats that the prayers we pray for one another will indeed be more powerful and more effective than ever before. Dear Lord, Thank You for Virginia. I had no idea that the girl who I laughed with as a kid in high school would have such a profound effect on me throughout my life. I ask that You bless her, bless her marriage, her family, her kids, and her precious granddaughter. Continue using her to be a breath of fresh air to those she is surrounded by. Keep her healthy and safe --and sane!! But if You don't, will You at least let her room be next to mine at the home our kids threaten us with? Mostly though, Lord, I want to thank You for Your Word that is constantly being proven and standing its own test of time. I have seen the power of friendship and when it is combined with prayer--with You--I have seen its power. May every woman have a Virginia in her life and a Jesus in her heart is my prayer today. Amen.

I Don't Want To Grow Up

July 31, 2014 My grandson is in a near state of depression. Last night, he was just so overwhelmed that he could hardly put a voice to his thoughts. Why? He has a birthday coming up in a few weeks. This will truly be a bittersweet event. Poor guy! He loves parties, loves playing, and loves being...the baby. He has been the baby for the past few years and for most of the years has revelled in this role. Take for instance when it was time to potty train. As I would change his diaper and powder him up, I'd coo to him that in a few more days it'd be time for him to start using the pot like a big boy. He'd smile so sweetly at me and say "No, I'm not." And he didn't. Not in a mean way. He just wasn't ready to let go of this portion of his "youth," the portion that let him be coddled and taken care of. He has a new brother on the way. He's pretty excited about it and has all kinds of plans to be his "protector" and talks of how he will help Mama feed him and play with him. But, somehow in the midst of all of this new baby chatter and his upcoming birthday, the ConMan is fraught. He does not want to grow up. He curls himself around Mama's expanding belly, jockeying for position as he gently rubs the baby, and snuggles ever closer to his nurturer. He has his birthday all planned out. He wants to go to Krispy Kreme and for everyone to bring him orange (his favorite color) presents. He and I planned this a few weeks ago and he refuses to budge on it (much to his parents dismay). He wants his friends to be there to celebrate with him but he does not want to turn four. He just is so sad about this! Can you blame him, folks? I think he has been somehow supernaturally impressed with the fact that growing up is not all that it is cut out to be. Responsibilities. Less play time. Eating vegetables. Going to school. Having to walk without being carried. Being rocked to sleep is so much better! Resting on the top of someone's shoulders is often easier than putting one foot in front of the other. Your food being cut up for you and brought to you is so much nicer than getting it for yourself. Your clothes somehow mysteriously are laid out for you and cleaned without you having to lift a finger to get them to the laundry room (except for those times when you want to help out). Taking nice warm bubble baths and then being wrapped up in a soft towel and comforting arms are hard things to beat! Yeah, if it was up to my darling gson, he would never get older. I Peter 2:2 says "As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby..." He likes the sincere milk, the purity of it, the uncomplicated portion that he is allowed so that he may grow--but not grow up. And, if it were up to me, I'd keep him at this age. Sweet. Needy. Dependent. Loving. Able to be mended by a few smooches and hugs--and a couple of jelly beans don't hurt either. Sigh. Life comes at us too quickly sometimes and then...and then we are looking back at it, wondering why we were in such a hurry, why we didn't slow down and remain kids for longer. When did we become old? When did our sunny dispositions that all could be made right with a cookie and a kiss change? Why can't we just play all day and not do chores? Today I encourage you to be a kid. Laugh. Do something silly. Get chocolate all over you and use the back of your arm to spread it even more messily around you. Don't pick your "toys" up and put away for later: take them out now! Take a good long nap after hearing a good story to encourage your dreams to be filled with adventures and far off places. Let someone else wait on you and cut your food up for you. If they are strong enough, let them carry you around for a bit and maybe even swing you in their arms (or take you to the playground if this option doesn't pan out). Holler "Wheeeee" and rejoice in this day that the Lord has made. Too soon it will be time to be an adult again. Too soon it will be that your body doesn't have the energy to frolic. Too soon the cares of this world will infringe upon your calm. Go find a kid and play with him or her today. I'll bet you will be glad you did! Let's pray! Dear Lord, how my heart aches for this child who sees so clearly that being older is a lot of work and takes away too much fun. Help me as his granny to show him that there is still a lot of fun to be had and that getting older isn't so bad. Help me to instill in him love and carefreeness (I think I just made up a new word, Father). And mostly, help me to enjoy this little child You have placed in my life and see the world through his eyes rather than the cynical and often jaded ones that are on my face. You have provided us with great beauty and life. May I--and my "baby"--enjoy it to the full is my hope. In Jesus' name I ask. Amen.

Step Into The Water

Post by Wandering Through the Bible.

You say you are over it and you mean those words. You say that you have forgiven that one who wronged you and you meant that too. You even say you wish that soul well and are able to convince others--as well as yourself--that your intentions are above board. But then... Then comes a picture, a phrase overheard, or a situation on a show you are watching or a book you are reading and the hurt comes back. The whole scene replays itself in your mind and you are there again, vividly recalling what this action was that caused you so much angst. Friend, it's okay. It's okay to be shaken, stirred even (contrary to what James Bond might say). Things like this keep us on our toes. Reminders of past haunts nudge us to keep a forgiving spirit and a tender heart so that we don't, in return, repeat these harmful ways on those whom we hold dear. The devil will try to tell you that you aren't being Christlike, that you are still chained to your past because of the evils that lurked there. He's wrong. He's a liar. His goal is to kick you while you are down but guess what? I know Someone Who can pick you right back up! Jesus told us, in Matthew 11:28-30, to "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden , and I will give you rest . Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Do you see it? His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Light. Not gone, for it is still there. But He's willing to share it with you; carry it for you, if you will give it to Him. Go ahead and feel those hurts again. They won't completely go away. But there is rest for your soul when you trust in the One Who offers peace. Let's pray! Dear Lord, today some of us are burdened by the past. Whether it be a relationship that resulted in unfair treatment, a co-worker who let us down, a picture of one whom we once cared so deeply for laughing and having a gay old time while we wallow in our self-pities because we aren't a part of their lives anymore. Maybe it's over a loved one who has gone home as Chonda Pierce is experiencing and writing about so movingly. Lord, the scenarios vary but the one standard that can make them easier to live with is that You will, that You ARE there to be beside us, leaving us as no one else can. You promised! Your Word declares You will NEVER leave us nor forsake us. Be our Friend today, Lord. Be our Burden Carrier and our Peace. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.