Ethan's Treasure

The door opened and closed so quietly that I wasn't even certain someone had entered the house.

Eight year old Ethan sat on the couch mesmerized by something in his hand. I paused, surprised, not because he was on my couch, but because he usually comes to me in a run, with a bang and a shout.

Life is an ongoing party for Ethan and it's one of my favorite things about him, but this time he was very still. When he looked up, his eyes were full of joy and wonder.

"Oh, Nana," he tells me, opening his hand to reveal a shiny black arrowhead. "Look what Carolanne gave me!"

I am amazed by the magnitude of Carolanne's generosity, wondering if it really should be seen as a gift. Ethan immediately senses my question.

"Really. She gave it to me. She said I will keep it," he whispers. "I need to draw it."

Working methodically through the disappointment and pain of my life with rheumatoid arthritis, a new appreciation is unfolding. I find myself awestruck with wonder at this gift, this treasure, this opportunity held in my hands. God is listening to me just as I listened to Ethan.

"Oh, Father. Look what You have given me. You said I will keep it. I need to capture my gift on paper, study it from different angles, appreciate it with gratitude.

"You can have the drawing, Nana," Ethan said, hanging it on the refrigerator. "I don't need it. I have my treasure."

He tucked the arrowhead in his pocket and hugged me even tighter and faster than usual. "Bye, Nana! Thanks!" he yelled, leaving the door to bang loudly behind him.

And I have a treasure, too. I have been given an opportunity to live fully awake to God's presence in every moment, every circumstance, to discover grace even in disappointment, even in pain.

It makes my life an ongoing party. I have a treasure that makes me want to create something colorful to give away...and maybe hang on the world's refrigerator.

In the Whole World

Delicate toddler arms reach wide. Maisy's hands open and close as if to grasp the whole wonderful world in her arms.

"I love you in the WHOLE WORLD!" She laughs as she runs and jumps into my hug, giving me a tight squeeze.

Maisy lives life wide awake to the joy of being in the world.

With little girl innocence, she expects goodness and generosity, beauty and happiness. Having the freedom to simply be who she is in the moment gives her a delight in life that is fresh, enchanting and original.

She is neither too busy nor too insecure to seize new opportunities to learn and express herself. There is always enough time to offer a hug, a helping hand, a pat of encouragement.

She needs no permission to be herself. She needs no self-promoting. Nobody has to convince her she is wonderfully made. She simply shows up for life hopeful, grateful and joyful.

Why do we think we need permission or approval to simply be ourselves, alive in His grace?

I'm an original and I get one chance at life in the whole world. No one can show up to live it but me.

Let's Sing Loud!

Elyce Feliz Photo

"Let's sing loud," Katherynn, age four, whispers passionately.  "Let's sing really REALLY LOUD!"

She is learning to weed in my flower bed. Since not even the flowers are asleep, we sing so loudly that we are soon laughing and working harder.

We are still sweaty, blistered, hot and tired, but we are refreshed. Singing loudly has brought the joy necessary for motivation and strength to finish our work.

What does your life song sing? Is it a joyous melody? An encouraging song? What are you singing into a world of turmoil, grief and disappointment?

During the last three days I have heard life songs that say: "I'm so bored." "My life is falling apart."  "I hate Mondays." "The President is a Joke." "Look how gorgeous I am!"

We need to wake up! If you sing louder you will hear what your life song is saying. It helps to drown out the voices that distract, the words that discourage and the songs that speak weariness.

 "Anyone can sing when the sun is shining bright," the old hymn promises, "But you can have a song in your heart at night." 

How lovely on the mountains are the songs of those who sing good news, who announce peace and proclaim joy! Awake, my soul, and sing! For Christ has died for me!

Let's sing loud. Let's sing really REALLY LOUD!

Look! A Hero!

"You're one of my heroes," I say, knowing Marjorie will burst into loud, infectious laughter.

She's a plain woman, stooped from nearly a century of hard work and disappointment. Though sometimes she appears at my doorstep looking a bit odd,  gray hair straggling about,  sans glasses and teeth she often misplaces, she is always a welcome sight.

"Good morning, my dear one. How are you today?" she always greets me, collapsing  into a chair, ready for her piano lesson.  She hands me her books and begins to play an old hymn. Arthritis and age have twisted and gnarled her hands, but the music comes from her heart.  Her fingers become a part of the instrument as sweet music fills my home..

"I love those old hymns. Never forget them." she laughs, after a hymn or two played by ear. "Alright, Girl! Now, teach me how to play this piano right. I've spent hours in practice. You're going to be so very proud of me."  

She studies diligently, learning  the names of the notes she has been playing by ear for well over half a century. It's her way to rest from work. For a couple of hours each afternoon she plays her assignments over and over again.

Most of her days are spent raising a grandson and caring for an elderly neighbor who is twenty years younger than Marjorie. She studies the Word of God long past midnight, preparing sermons for her church on Sunday.  Besides cleaning her house, mowing her yard and working with people who live in poverty and weariness, she visits a prison every week.

"I don't have a real big ministry," she explains. "I just go around seeking out the lost and seems like I always find some. I just encourage folks. That's all."

It is common to believe we must have an opinion on every issue and tragedy in our news focused world. People complain about the world around us, about the weather, the cost of food and gas, or how often we all complain rather than give thanks. 

When we stop wasting time wondering where the heroes have all gone, we find them. And, more importantly, we are inspired and motivated by them. 

A Visit with Miss Kitty

A Time to Rest

As a child, I never could understand how our neighbor, retired from teaching in a one room school house, knew I was coming to visit. Miss Kitty watched for me out of longing, out of love, out of a watchful heart. At the time I only knew I would be welcomed with her toothless grin, a giant molasses cookie and a glass of milk made cold by her ice box.

"Come, child, sit a spell," Miss Kitty would greet me, wiping arthritic hands on her faded gingham apron. "My work is all but plumb done up."  She would sit down to rock in her life-scarred rocking chair while I munched cookies and rested.We talked about everything and nothing, just enjoying one another's presence.

The book of Hebrews tells us that when Jesus finished bringing salvation to the world, He sat down at the right hand of God to wait for his enemies to be His footstool. His work was plumb done up on earth and He could sit in the Father's presence now that it was finished.

Do you find yourself living for the weekends when your work is done and you're finally able to relax? Do you sometimes feel like a hamster in a cage as a young mom because when weekend arrives, there is still more work than you could possibly get done? 

Sabbath rest is a gift from God even though our work is not done. Sabbath rest is a gift the Father gives to His child because the work of Jesus is done. Jesus is alive, sitting on His throne, victorious.  He brought salvation to a dying world and now it is finished.

All week long we are generous with our time, going the extra miles of doing good to others, working heartily as unto the Lord, taking heed to fulfill our callings.  Christians are points of light in a dark place, salt that flavors the world around us, soft places for the brokenhearted to find healing.  

We are able to endure, to run our race strong, because of the rest of God. The essence of a Sabbath heart is paying attention, living wide awake to the presence of God in every moment. Jesus sits on His throne, longing for you, watching for you to arrive for a visit. Come, child, sit a spell. My work is plumb done up. 

The wealthy, the famous, the elite, the educated, the proud often miss this quiet enjoyment of the presence of God.  Their eyes grow weary from paying attention to their work and personal victories. Seekers of grace, shepherds, children, the poor, the sick, the imprisoned...the least of us...more easily accept the call to the rest of God. 

"Come to Me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens.  I will give you rest," Jesus offers His people. We are invited to sit a spell, to rest in His presence. It is up to us to pay attention. 

A Song for Test Day

"I'm kind of worried," Katherynn confessed before her math test. "What if I don't know what to do?"

"Then you can ask me and I will help you," I explained. "I love you, Katherynn. I know you can do this or I wouldn't ask you to do it. You've worked hard in kindergarten. A test tells us what you know and what you still need to learn and practice".

Life is full of tests on our character. That prick in your heart is the guiding of the Holy Spirit as He trains you to make right choices. If we learn our lessons, we do well when we are tested. 

A cashier gives us a ten dollar bill rather than a one dollar bill. Will we admit the error?  We decide against buying the item in our grocery cart. Do we lay it on the nearest shelf or return it to the correct shelf?  Do we hit the snooze button or get up?  Our day falls apart, do we pray or yell? God says no to a request.  Do we doubt His goodness or submit to His plan for us?

One of the most frequent counseling concerns I address is the doubt of God's presence in times of hardship. Why don't I feel God's presence when I'm struggling with my sin?  Where is God when I hurt?

Heather was learning volumes in a new Bible study. "I can hardly wait for each new day because I am learning so much about God. Life has never been so exciting!" Her bubbling joy lasted for several months.

"I don't understand," Heather told me one morning. "I don't feel like God is there any more. Is He mad at me for something? I keep praying but He doesn't seem to be helping me. Are my prayers getting through?"

A test matters because it shows how much you know and what you still need to learn and practice. God is faithful.  He always hears the voice of His child. He is there, but a teacher is often silent during testing.

During the math test, Katherynn began to sing softly as she worked:  "I am special and I can do this.  Karen loves me and I can do this. This is hard but then we can have a tea party. Karen loves me and I can do this."

 A ribbon that states "Hard Worker Award" hangs in a place of honor to show that Kathernn is ready for first grade math, for lessons that will continue to challenge her to grow.

The student has taught the teacher. I plan to sing more and worry less.

Dangerous Women

"Aren't you afraid to be in the prison with all those dangerous women?" my neighbor asked.  "Do you have to be around any serial killers?"

The truth is that I am safer behind prison walls than I am on the highway or walking around downtown. My movements are on security video. I carry a body alarm. My husband carries a two-way radio. Armed prison guards would immediately be available if a situation was dangerous.

Prisoners we meet in the chapel have murder, child abuse, prostitution, rape and drug crimes in their pasts.  But they look like any other group of women, except for the way they're dressed. With hands clapping and feet dancing as they sing, they sound like any other group of women praising God. Leaning in to hear my teaching, they take notes and ask questions, diligent in their study of God's Word.

They are not dangerous women because of their crimes. They are dangerous women because they are Jesus Followers, because they are becoming women after God's own heart.  They dare to be the hands and feet of Jesus in a fallen world.

Sierra, a Jesus Follower in prison, grips my hand as she tells me her story. She will die inside the prison walls. Society has rightly sentenced her to multiple life sentences. She smiles through tears of compassion for her fellow prisoners, women who live in darkness, slaves to their sins and wrong choices.

"There is so much power in God's love! I'm much more dangerous with a Bible than I ever was with a gun. Satan should be afraid. Very, Very afraid."

And Satan is indeed afraid. He knows his time is almost up. He holds no power over the truly dangerous woman, the princess-soldier who lives courage, gives wise counsel and goes about doing good. His name is defeat and the battle belongs to the Lord.

The most dangerous women in the world write Bible verses on the hearts of children. They act out Bible stories, making it fun to be in Sunday School. Pots of vegetable soup and loaves of fresh baked bread sit on their counters ready to be taken to the sick and weary. They have time to listen, to bind up the brokenhearted, to stretch loving arms to the needy and to change the course of history with their prayers.

They wage war on selfishness, divorce, abortion and cruelty. Dangerous women send notes to young wives encouraging them to love their husbands and children.  They babysit for young moms when rest becomes long overdue. They care for the widows, the orphans, the homeless. Dangerous women counsel alongside the Holy Spirit. They love people deeply from their hearts, changing the world one step at a time.

Just how dangerous are you?