Friendly Friday: I Really Want to Know

Because what I really want is to know about you, this is Friendly Friday.  I'll ask a question, you answer.  Pretty easy, right?  Hold tight as I explain where I'm going, and wait for the question.

Yesterday I got my tires checked.  After my name was called, and I had changed into a lovely pink top with strings, I joined a few other women in a smaller, more private inner room.  I sat with my magazine and started to read when I realized something was wrong with my top.  It wasn't tied right, but I couldn't figure out what was wrong.  One of the ladies, a joyful older gal, noticed my fiddling with it and started to giggle.  "Not you too?"  Apparently, it's a universal problem.

Her friend, a take-charge blond about 20 or more years older than I, ordered, "Stand up.  I'll help you." 

And I obeyed.

She walked over
Untied my top
Wrapped me right
And tied me up again.

Strangely, it didn't feel weird:  this woman I'd never set eyes on before re-robing my braless self (she did it modestly). 

In a waiting room of women dressed in pink tie-tops, it felt like . . . . Sisterhood.  She and I and the other women waiting for their squeezes and waiting for what we hoped was good news, bonded.

So, my question to you:  When was the last time you felt a sisterhood bond with a complete stranger?

I really want to know.

Friendly Friday: I Really Want to Know

Pooped: In Need of Power

I was weary of doing good. Dog-tired, exhausted, beat, worn-out, bushed, pooped. I was tired of giving cheerfully, serving joyfully, loving whole-heartedly, forgiving endlessly. My best friend suggested it was the winter blah, and maybe that contributed to it, but I think something else was up.

It’s funny how God starts whispering messages through several sources when we need to hear something. I began to hear a word through my Bible study (Esther), through a book I’m reading (So Long Insecurity), and then a message from a friend of ours who is also a minister. God even put a song (by Rebecca St. James) in my head that I can’t get out:

Crazy to think

that Your holy hands made everything I see.

It’s so hard to believe

that You, the God of creation, say

I’ve got this power in me

Power. My minister friend posed these questions in a sermon recently, “What is your power? What is your source?” And it got me to thinking . . . .

I’m tired because my power source has run dry: me. I’ve been gassing up at an empty tank labeled “Self.” And it’s cost me much: joy, strength, peace, contentment . . . . there’s more, but I’m a little too tired to remember it all. I feel useless and used up – because I am. I need to remember to do what I know I should do – which is to rely on God’s power, so that I can be renewed.  Refreshed.  Refueled.  His supply is limitless.

So please remind me
when I feel useless
that my flesh and bone has more than meets the eye.
Because You burn
like fire within me
and there’s nothing out of reach when I
let Your Spirit loose and be alive.

In me
there is strength to move a mountain.
In me
there is faith to walk on water.
In me
if I just believe
the Way and the Truth and the Life . . .
is in me

“I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints, and His incomperably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of His mighty strength . . .” Ephesians 1:18 &19

That’s my prayer for me today . . . and each of you. 

Get alone with God.  Power up.

Pooped: In Need of Power

WORD-Filled Wednesday

I had something else on my mind to write today, but I feel that God is prodding me to do something else:  WORD-Filled Wednesdays.  I need encouragement to always be thinking Godward; maybe you do too.  So on Wednesdays I'm going to share a scripture.  I encourage you to meditate on it.  Savor it.  His words are sweet, and they are just for your ears.  He loves you.  Spend time with Him today.

"Be still and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."  Psalm 46:6

Fill up with His Word,

WORD-Filled Wednesday

Barbie and My Dad

Today is Barbie’s birthday.

It’s also my dad’s.

Which led me to compare the two. Naturally.

Barbie: perfectly plastic in every way from the top of her synthetic bleach blond head to the tip of her tiny imitation toes, including her impossible-to-reproduce-in-real-life figure, so help us all.

My dad: perfectly real in every way from the top of his graying sandy-haired head to the tip of his work-boot covered toes, including his giant 6’3” frame that intimidated the heck out of boys, so help them all.

My faith: at times perfectly Barbie. Attractive on the exterior, but artificial at the core. So, help me, God. I believe. Help my unbelief.

My God: perfectly real in every way from the Beginning to the End. Way bigger and more powerful than I’m even capable of comprehending. Lord, help us all. Please.

My prayer: to have a giant-sized faith to match my giant-sized God. Away with Barbie. Bring on my (Heavenly) Dad.

Barbie and My Dad

Bittersweet Books

WWII and Hitler’s hatred have always held a sense of fascination for me. The annihilation of one people group due to one man’s persuasive cunning and revulsion is incredible and frightening. Recently three very different books related to WWII fell across my lap. I’d like to share them with you in case you are as horribly mesmerized as I am and would like to do a little reading of your own.

Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay – My best friend’s mom lent me this book, and I’m thankful she did. The author did a fabulous job of interweaving the past with the present while making history come to life. The book is heart-wrenching and difficult to read, but I couldn’t put it down. I cried -- often. It’s a fictional account that rings too true, and tells of what happened to the many Jews living in France during the Nazi occupation, but it zooms in on Sarah’s story to capture the fear, devastation and strength of a persecuted people. Haunting. (Some brief language)

Parallel Journeys by Eleanor Ayer – This is a fascinatng true story. The author combines the stories of a young German Jew, Helen Waterford, and an ardent member of the Hitler Youth, Alfons Heck. They were born within miles of each other and obviously had dramatically different accounts of the war. Both stories were captivating, but I think I was most interested to gain some understanding about how anyone could support a madman. It was frightening to learn how truly inspiring Hitler was to the people he led, and how blindly so many followed either out of fear or actual devotion. He brainwashed the youth of his country, and I’ve come to understand that many of them were actually victims of another sort. Really riveting.

The Journey that Saved Curious George by Louise Borden – A book for the kids too. We are huge fans of a certain curious little monkey, so when I saw this picture book, I decided it would be a good purchase. I was right. We are currently studying WWII, and I gave the book to my boys to read individually after I had read it first. This true story tells about the authors of Curious George, the Reys, German Jews living in France. It gives a brief background of their life overall, then relates the dramatic change that took place when the Germans were marching closer to Paris. The picture book, with rich illustrations and photographs of the Reys and their artifacts, is appealing to adults and children alike and gives lovers of Curious George a personal interest in a different side of WWII. After all, where would we be without all those wonderful books that give such amusing and endearing descriptions like that of our own curious little monkeys?

Journey through these books to unlock a past we need to remember.
Happy, and not so happy, reading to you.

Bittersweet Books

The Mighty One Knows

A quilt hangs on a ladder in my family room – a testament of a great-grandmother’s resourcefulness and skill. A ring around my finger is a witness to the world that one has pledged his love to me and I to him. An altar was built thousands of years ago beside the Jordan River – an imposing structure of stone – as a witness testifying that the LORD is God. A quilt. A ring. An altar. It’s this last visual symbol that has me perplexed and wondering. Quilts and rings have I, but is there anything in my life that is witness that God is who He is?

I could wear a cross around my neck, a fish sticker on my car, and a Bible in my arm, but would these testify that the LORD is God? I could volunteer my time at the nursing home, give money to charity or take a meal to a shut-in, but would these be witnesses that the LORD is God?

The answer to that question is found in the same place that I read about the altar, Joshua 21: “The Mighty One, God, the LORD! The Mighty One, God, the LORD! He knows!”

It all comes down to our hearts and our motives. I can run around serving others and dressing the part, but if I give out of duty or to make myself look good, then all of my actions are empty and meaningless – and construct an ugly altar to myself. They may fool a few people into believing that I’m a “good” person, but they don’t truly testify that the Mighty One is LORD.

Because He knows.

God is love, and the finest altar I can erect is one built with a heart and hands and mouth that truly love Him and are motivated to testify that the LORD is God. I can construct this unseen altar by acts of love and service, by volunteering my time, by giving money to those in need, and by verbally giving credit to Christ  . . . To some at a distance it may look the same as the altar I built to myself. But those being ministered to and those with discerning hearts will recognize it for what it is . . . a testimony that the LORD is God.  And above all, so will The Mighty One.

Because He knows.

The Mighty One Knows

She Works With Eager Hands

When I think of my mom, pictures pop into my mind.

Mom weeding her flowerbeds.

Mom washing the dishes.

Mom ironing.

Mom playing Sorry! with the boys.

And above all . . . Mom knitting.

She truly exemplifies that Proverbs 31 woman who “works with eager hands.” I am often the recipient of the work of her hands, as is Baby Girl. She and I now have an arsenal of scarves to ward off the winter chill . . .

or wear around the house when we’re feeling especially Princess-like.

My mom has also made stacks of sweaters . . .

including this precious heirloom sweater for Baby Girl.

Plus, she’s knit oodles of stockings (the Christmas kind) for friends, family and other people in our community. She is truly talented. But I’m most proud of her for the boxes and boxes of sweaters she’s made to ship off to children in need. “She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy” (that Proverbs 31 woman again). I tease her about it when she’s working another sweater, asking her if one of those kids is getting something warm and fuzzy when she could be making a fabulous gift for, well . . . moi. (Grin.)

But mom knits on.

In this way (and others), she is much like our Creator who shaped this beautiful Earth and continues to create new life each day. As a matter of fact, He’s still busy with His own knitting – forming precious little ones together in their mothers’ wombs. He creates us for His pleasure and provides for us in our need, and in so doing sends affection that stirs our hearts and binds us to Him. Stitch by satisfying stitch, my mom, like her Father, fashions love that will warm an impoverished child and may point them to the One who will say to them, “You are the work of my hands.”

Let’s be like my mom and remember those in need today.

Go bless.

She Works With Eager Hands