White wake-up call

One of the advantages of living in a northern climate is Nature’s winter alarm clock for sleepy children and teens.It’s been a few years, but I still remember the routine. They’d go to bed begging for an extra afghan on top because it was so cold. When morning came, they’d remain cocooned under their multiple layers unless somebody whispered two words and opened the curtains to reveal the truth.

It snowed.

Plus, it happened on a no-school day. Can life get any better? Suddenly, they were awake, eager to rush through breakfast (mean Mom says, “No corn flakes, no snow flakes”) and dig out those snow pants, caps, gloves and mufflers. A white world meant snowballs, snowmen, heaping snow for your own three-foot sledding hill, and making a snow fort. Oh yes, maybe scraping a few sidewalks to be “helpful.”

The only downside was Mom, who kept an eye on the clock and temperature and called them in before they turned into snowmen. Then it was hot chocolate while the wet snow gear tossed in the dryer for another stint in that wonderful white world.

Our first significant snowfall of the winter came yesterday. But those kids who sprang from their blanketed cocoons to revel in its wet whiteness don’t live here any more. They’re grown up and on their own. Now, snow means getting a shovel out to clear their own walks before anything else. Then, if it’s not a work day, maybe a trip to the ski hill.

Yesterday, as I scraped the driveway and sidewalks, I wistfully remember seeing snow through a child’s eyes. I have a picture of my son and daughter all bundled up, faces toward the sky, tongues out, trying to catch a flake on their tongues. Learning each snow flake is unique, they also tried to examine them with a magnifying glass. But their breath melted the fragile flakes before that happened.

The only member of the family not too excited about snow was Aug the cat. He made no secret of disliking having to hop through cold, wet stuff to his favorite guard station under the bird feeder. Who knows the mind of an animal, but snow clearly impaired the smells along the route of his daily territorial policing.

Of the Bible’s 14 references to snow, one of my favorites is in Isaiah 1:18:
“Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord.
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.
When we ask God for forgiveness of our sins, a blizzard of mercy pours out from Heaven, covering the dirty stuff in our lives.

And even though most of the world doesn’t experience a “white Christmas,” there’s a lot of symbolism in those Currier-and-Ives snow-time scenes. For isn’t Christmas about the Divine storm of mercy? And of Jesus coming to a sin-polluted world, spreading the soft blanket of pure hope?

Book it!

When my children were in grade school, they participated in a program called “Book It!” which rewarded reading goals with personal pan pizzas. While they grew up enjoying reading and didn’t really need gastronomical incentives, we were grateful for the investment that local pizza parlors made!

Books are still big in our family’s life, but now that the kids are grown and on their own, Mom is the one who usually has a book in her hands. I’ve had the privilege of contributing to about thirty compilations over the years, including three recently published.

Lucinda Secrest McDowell oversaw the assembling of 30 Ways to Embrace Life: Wise Women Share Their Secrets (Quiet Waters Publications). A broad assembling of women have shared what they learned in change points of their lives. My essay is about simplifying your life.

The editors of Guideposts are publishing a series titled “True Stories of Extraordinary Answers to Prayers,” and the volume Praying Together has my essay on persevering group prayer. I tell about praying for missionary colleagues during the 232 days they were captives of the Viet Cong, and how participating in this prayer season gave me new insight into Psalm 126.

Finally, a smile. When Pam Farrel and Dawn Wilson were writing LOL With God: Devotional Messages of Hope and Humor for Women (Tyndale), they put out a call for funny happenings to which women could relate. I told about my dear friend who, learning I faced a surgical biopsy, phoned and offered to bring my family dinner after my autopsy. Uh, huh. I lived to eat it. The Farrel-Wilson book has a good format for women of the electronic age: a short essay, a reaction point, pertinent scriptures, and then that release of laughter to wrap it up.

Each of these books offers bite-size spiritual nourishment—something like those personal pan pizzas that fed my kids years ago. I include such books in my reading diet in addition to more challenging “reading menu” items. If you see me browsing at a thrift store, you’ll probably find me with my head cocked to the side, reading the titles off the spines of used books in search of a classic spiritual treasure.

And yes, from time to time, I spot one of my books among the discards. It keeps me humble!

Grace places

Once in my life I did win a national contest. To help publicize a new book on mentoring, a Christian publisher had sponsored a contest seeking essays about “women of influence” in someone’s life. When I first saw the ad, I thought, “Oh, what’s the use.” But I was compelled to tell the story of an unusual woman of influence in my life, a retired nurse in my church who took this rookie newspaper reporter aka young chick under her devout wing. She loved on me and encouraged me in my growing faith through simple potluck meals in her very humble little home.

Just before the contest deadline in spring 2000, I sent off my article about “Grandma G,” my unlikely mentor. A few months later, as I sat writing fillers for my part-time job at the newspaper, I got a call from the sponsoring publisher. Out of hundreds of entries, they decided mine was the winner. My prize would be a weekend trip to Indianapolis to meet the book’s author and be honored at the large arena “Heritage Keepers” women’s event where she would speak. Oh yes, the weekend would include “the works” at a day spa. The trip was for two—for me and my “mentor.” One problem: she had died years ago. Could I take my daughter, then 16, in her stead?

And so Inga and I flew to Indianapolis and spent time with international Christian speaker Carol Kent, an author whose works I had read and enjoyed, and whose book Becoming a Woman of Influence prompted the contest. Carol and her husband were models of graciousness in helping Inga and me feel welcome. But I sensed something amiss as I watched her greet professional friends and share tears and emotional hugs. Finally, as we left, I dared to ask. I learned their son (and only child), a military academy graduate who wanted to honor Christ in his occupation, sat in prison on charges of murdering his wife’s ex-husband, who was suspected of abusing his little daughters.

Carol’s writing and speaking took a major turn after that heart-breaking event, which resulted in her son being sentenced to life without possibility of parole in a Florida prison. From this life-shattering sorrow came three books to uphold and encourage people who face unthinkable circumstances and are struggling to trust God to help them through it. They have included When I Lay My Isaac Down, A New Kind of Normal, and the just-released Between a Rock and a Grace Place. This newest book encourages those who suffer to look for the God-things that emerge from dark places—like faith, mercy, contentment, thanksgiving, favor, joy, freedom, and adventure. Though the book shares their journey with their son’s incarceration, it also includes stories of others who have found themselves on the dark and despairing side of life. It’s lived-through, cried-through, and trusted-through responses to the life circumstances you would have never chosen.

I’d encourage you to read this book. Request it from your public library so that it can be ordered and put on the shelves for others. Share it with those who may seem ready for its liberating message. I’d venture that many of us know someone with a desperate outcome from their choices. Some remote branches of my family tree, grafted in by marriage, include those who suffer greatly because of a family member’s crime. One man is serving his sentence for murder; another has recently been charged with the same crime.

If you know of someone who is incarcerated and don’t know what to do to help that person’s family, consider learning about a non-profit ministry Carol began to help inmates and their families: www.SpeakUp ForHope.org.

When I entered that essay contest a decade ago, I had no idea how it would expand my world. The manicure is long gone and I’d never had another massage since that contest win. But it touched my life in a good way. I pray regularly for Carol and her husband, who have not shrunk back from this sorrow, but embraced it to bring glory to God.

Cereal thriller

I was dumping a bowlful of heart-healthy oats into my bowl the other morning when the advertising on the box caught my eye. “You could win the ultimate chance to do what you love!” the box promised.

Can life get even more thrilling, suggests that bright yellow box? An innocent visit to the website (to divulge your E-mail) and Somebody Somewhere could be off to the Stuff of Dreams. Like a custom trip anywhere in the US. A VIP trip to the Grand Canyon. Getting up close with a celebrity chef, race car driver, or movie stars.

Okay, true confessions. Contests have lured me. Whenever one offered a free trip to Hawaii, I dropped my name in the box. The black hole box. The-live-volcano-on-Hawaii-must-have-incinerated-my-entry box.

Yes, somebody else does win such contests. Yet my family has had the thrill of some small-potatoes contest. Our daughter won a hula hoop contest at the local grocery store and brought home a large picnic cooler. Our son’s artwork got him a black jacket emblazoned with “Dusty’s In and Out” (a local burger place) that he wore for most of grade school. We visited a motel open house and won a night in the bridal suite another motel of the same chain. There were restrictions, of course, which is why mom, dad and two grade-school kids enjoyed the suite on New Year’s eve in the middle of Eastern Washington’s barren sage brush country. The in-room hot tub was nice since it was snowing and bitter cold outside.

I think God smiles when He drops those surprises in our laps. But as I gulped down my cereal heart-helpers, I got to thinking about what might be my “ultimate experience.” When you get right down to it, there’s only one “ultimate experience” for those who call themselves “Christians.” A fellow named Paul, reduced to sitting in a filthy Roman prison on trumped-up charges, said it best:
“I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3:8)

Someday, seeing Him in all His glory in Heaven, will be the ultimate experience. I’m convinced of that!

10 Top Things About Having the Stomach Flu

10. You can break out the retro décor, like that red rubber hot water bottle.
9. It’s not morning sickness—and certainly not if you’re a post-menopausal woman or a man of any age (and if you’re a man, you can finally experience one thing pregnancy does to women).
8. You have new purpose for those fancy fragrant candles you got as generic gifts.
7. You can try new food combinations, like lemon-lime pop, Jello and custard with saltines.
6. You can head for bed long before bedtime.
5. You have a fresh excuse when a telemarketer calls.
4. Taking a long bath and burrowing under several blankets is part of the “cure.”
3. You can lose weight.
2. You find new things to be thankful for, like modern indoor plumbing.
And finally:
1. Even if your head is banging, your stomach rolling, and your lower quarters rumbling, you’re still alive.

The flu visited our home this week. It puts a new spin on “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:19). Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hankering for some saltines.….

Praying Without the Book

No time to pray? Maybe this will change your mind.....

Yes, you can pray without “the book”—the personal prayer notebook I’ve talked about the last few blogs.In fact, we must pray when something stirs our heart. God has no office hours. He hears whenever, wherever, however.

If you’ve never read anything by the 17th century monk Brother Lawrence or 20th century literacy advocate Frank Laubach, you should. Both wrote about practicing the presence of God, of being aware of Him and conversing with Him throughout the day. For Brother Lawrence (The Practice of the Presence of God), that could happen even as he went about his duties in the monastery kitchen. Laubach’s The Game with Minutes spoke of minute-by-minute awareness of God. Their books will move and challenge you.

But, for starters, consider these ideas for quick prayer:
*Waiting-time prayers. Instead of shifting your thinking into neutral when you’re on public transportation or in a waiting room, pray for the person sitting next to you or someone whose body language (tears, anxiety) points to a serious need.
*Siren prayers. Instead of saying, “Better move over to the side, or “I wonder where they’re going,” whenever you hear a siren from an emergency vehicle, pray. Ask for physical and emotional strength for the unknowns that police, fire or ambulance workers will face. Pray for the victims in their panic and confusion.
*Driving prayers. Pray for that sloppy or cell-phone chatting driver who doesn’t realize others on the road are being put at risk. Pray for businesses or government officials when you drive past stores or city hall. Thank God for stoplights, highway signs, and even good roads to drive on. Praise Him for the invention of vehicles to move people and products.
*Housework prayers. On laundry day, pray for the person whose clothes you’re folding or ironing. When cooking, praise God for your electric and gas “servants” (stove, refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher, etc.). Thank Him for safe water, farmers, a garden, and stores.
Don’t forget:
*Arrow prayers. When a crisis slams into your life, pray briefly. “Lord, help me.” “Holy God, control my tongue.” “Jesus, be with me through this.” “Help me be loving to this disagreeable person.”
*Breath prayers. A Christian practice that’s millennia old, it combines breathing and short petitions. When you inhale, you say a name or attribute of God. On exhaling, you add the petition. The classic breath prayer: “Jesus, Son of David…have mercy on me, a sinner.” The “A-Z” names section of your Personal Prayer Notebook will help you with more brief breath prayers. S-Shepherd: “Jesus, my Good Shepherd…lead me by the still waters.” “God of Truth…show me the way through this confusion.” “God of Peace…calm my troubled heart.”
****
I just finished reading The Hole in the Gospel by World Vision CEO Richard Stearns. Powerful book! In one of his chapters (“What Are You Going to Do About It?”), he lists more ideas for spontaneous prayer, focused on the hurting world. Some of his suggestions for prayer (from pp. 291-192):
Morning shower—pray for those without clean water.
Packing family lunches—for the billion chronically hungry in today’s world.
Job commute—those unable to support their families or the millions of children in harmful or exploitative labor.
Dropping kids off at school—children barred from an education because of poverty or discrimination.
Taking vitamins—those without adequate health care.
Coming home after work—the homeless.
Night-time tuck-in—the millions of AIDS orphans, many surviving without guardians.

Would you care to share some of your ideas or experiences? Please feel free to add a comment in the space below.