A night of hope

This year, for our annual fancy, dancy holiday gala at my church, I was honored to be asked to write a little something that went with the theme of "a night of hope".  After much prayer and gallons of Starbucks coffee, this is what the Lord gave me.  I hope you enjoy it during this season of remembrance of the birth of our savior.

Brightly colored decorations twinkle and shine, weaving a magical world of wonder designed to overwhelm the senses.  The little girl, in her very best dress, stands at the foot of the tree and gazes up, mesmerized.  The bounce in her step matches the bounce of her curls pulled up in a fancy bow, as she explores the bounty of gaily wrapped packages beneath the beautiful evergreen.  She hopes, oh, yes, how she hopes, for so many things; a new doll, a new dress, a pair of roller skates, and how, she wonders, will mommy and daddy fit that pony under the tree?  She hopes her stocking will be filled with delicious treats and she hopes she gets to them before her brother does! She looks forward to the gathering together of all her family, her cousins, her aunts, her uncles, her grandparents.  She only hopes her great aunt Polly doesn’t insist on pinching her cheeks again.  With a head full of notions of parties and ponies she wanders through holiday dreams, secure in the knowing that mommy and daddy love her and, for her, life is as good as it seems.  Buried in her little heart, like the seed of a fragrant flower, resides a desire which is beyond her ability to articulate, even to know.  The longing for something more, for something she has no knowledge of, was planted there by her heavenly father before she was even born.  It is the desire for Him and the hope only he can bring.

The tacky tinsel and faded decorations made by her own hands when they were so much smaller do nothing to delight the eyes of the teenager. With her tight jeans, short spikey hair and bored expression, she is the epitome of teenage angst under a veneer of polite, yet predictable, rebellion.  No time and no patience for her extended family, she is only present till the first possibility of escape should present itself. Far beyond the hope of new toys and candy, her Christmas fantasy includes a call from the guy who sits behind her in math class, a place on the student council, a date for the prom.  She hopes, under that tired bedraggled tree to find the latest fashions to catapult her into the height of popularity and garner her attention from her peers.  She hopes her aunt can control her boyfriend with his groping hands and unwanted attention.  She hopes she can, somehow, survive another holiday dinner with this family she was born into.  But in the deepest part of her heart where no one sees and no one know what goes on, she hopes someone acknowledges her, really sees her.  She longs to have her young heart known and accepted, cultivated and loved.  She longs for adventure and passion, but these are not the sort of things to be found wrapped and placed beneath a tree.  Even at her age she knows that truth.

It’s hot in the kitchen.  The steam from the stove top condenses as it hits the windows, cold from the outside air, causing them to fog over completely.  Pushing her bangs back with a flour covered hand, she is lost in her own kitchen world with seemingly no input from the outside, but such is the place of a mom. The simple delight in the season is crowded out by the list of endless things still to be accomplished. It hangs over her head like a vulture circling;  pies to be baked, cookies to be frosted, potatoes to be mashed and kids to be run out of the way. If she stops and thinks about it, she can remember a time when things were different; when the joy of this time of year still over flowed. That was before so many kids and bills, before she was the one everyone else looked to to make everything right.  Now, she just hopes this evening passes with not too much trouble.  She hopes her kids are satisfied with their gifts.  She hopes the turkey is not too dry.  She hopes Uncle Jack doesn’t get drunk again, there’s not too much arguing, the boys don’t kill each other and it all passes quickly.  She hopes, this year, there’s no bloodshed, no broken bones, no broken toys or teeth and everyone leaves with the same body parts they came with!  For the most part, she simply hopes to get through it, to survive it.  But look deep into her heart and you will find another hope, one so long buried, so long ignored, it is barely hanging on to life.  The heartbeat of this hope is ever slowing as it gasps for air.  It waits for someone to rescue it, to bring it back to health.  It is the hope of something so much more than what surrounds her.  It is the hope born into her soul when she first heard the call of the Father.  A longing for reconciliation, for unconditional love, it has been starved by the mundane trappings of an average existence.  Yet, it remains.  Her heart hungers still; hungers for peace, for purpose.  She longs for more than her husband and her children can give her.  She longs for more excitement than can be found in the carpool lane.  She hopes for a heavenly father who looks at her and sees more than a mom, who sees her heart and is delighted.  It is a frail thing, but hope lingers still in her heart of hearts and it calls to the one who put it there. 

The house is quiet, the kids are gone home.  The grandkid’s handmade decorations, covered so unevenly with glitter, adorn the fridge.  She is left alone with her thoughts, with her memories.  She misses her husband, she misses the frenzy of activity that once accompanied this time of year.  She finds herself going back in her mind to years gone by and as she visits each memory she prays for each loved one.  She hopes this year goes well for her children, and her children’s children.  She hopes her granddaughter navigates these teen years without sowing too many wild oats.  She hopes her smallest granddaughter continues in the light and the joy in which she now lives her life.  She hopes her daughter can somehow find a way to find herself and her God amidst the chaos that is her life.  She hopes for so many things.  Deep in her heart there is a hope for reunion, for connection, for a full knowledge of her Father.  She revels in the love He lavishes on her while at the same time knowing it’s depths are endless and she longs for even more.  In the dark of the night, when the house is silent and no one else is around, He comes and he answers her hope.

The weariness threatens to overtake her.  Unconsciousness flits around her like a stubborn, annoying fly, just out of reach.  The rough hide of the small donkey chaffs her skin as her body, swollen with child, feels every bump, every stumble on the uneven ground.  For hours, for days she has been trapped in this haze, relegated to this journey.  “Why, God?” she asks.  “Why now, when this child is so close to his birth?”   She hopes it is over soon. She hopes they are near to stopping and that she is still able to walk when they do.  She hopes they can find a room as she knows the event she’s waited 9 long months for, is imminent. That is one hope that will not be fulfilled on this first Christmas night.  When, finally she reaches her destination it is not a comfortable room in an inn where she is afforded privacy for this most sacred occurrence, but simply the stable out back, a hollowed out cavern in the rock where the animals seek shelter. There is no midwife present to guide her through the pain, the fear.  She is attended simply by the scared young man she calls her husband.  When her labor is fulfilled and nature takes over, the child is birthed into the squalor of her surroundings.  As she gazes in wonder at the tiny miracle she holds in her arms, the enormity of her joy threatens to overwhelm her.  For in this moment, for this time, it’s not the maker of the universe she holds wrapped in swaddling clothes, but her baby; the infant she has nurtured, protected and carried in her womb for the long days before birth.   She hopes she is a good mother. She hopes she can protect and provide for this wee one.  She hopes he grows up happy and healthy, loved and accepted.  In this moment, she simply hopes for all the things every new mother hopes for when she gazes at her newborn.  In all of her longing, in all of her hoping, she has little idea she holds in her arms the hope of the world, the answer to every longing in the depth of every heart who seeks the Father.  So she holds, she rocks, she nurses, she comforts the very author of hope on this first Christmas.  Unseen to her, just across the boundaries that separate this world from the unseen world of the child’s first home, the angels sing, the Father rejoices, and all of heaven is held in awe. 

There was no hesitation in his heart when the father sent his only son to be born of a virgin.  Sin had crafted so great a chasm between him and his beloved children.  So great was his longing to be reunited he gladly set into motion the plan that had existed from the foundations of the earth; a plan of reconciliation, a plan of healing, a plan of extraordinary love.

To this day, our father longs for relationship with us through his son; that same lamb born so long ago, birthed to fulfill the plan of redemption, the plan of hope, crafted by God before time began.  He did it for you, he did it for me.   He is our hope, we are his prize.

Spike strips, Christmas trees and perplexed dogs

So, the holidays are in full swing.  We've made it through halloween, eaten ourselves silly over Thanksgiving and now it's time to deck the halls, trim the tree and wear out the credit cards.  I haven't don't much decorating yet.  We do have our tree up, up but not decorated.  It's just kind of standing upright in it's stand in the middle of my seldom used front living room.  At least Charlie has stopped barking at it.  If ever I've seen a look of confusion on the face of a dog it was when Charlie first caught sight of J dragging a tree into the house.  He didn't know whether to bark or lift a leg! lol

I have to admit, the holidays are an emotionally confusing time for me this year.  I lost more than one person who was important to me this year and I'm having a hard time adjusting to celebrating without them.

The first was my Grandmother.  She was 92 years old and I'm sure is more than a little happy to be celebrating with the reason for the season this year, but I still miss her.  It just won't seem quite right to get together with my siblings and her not be there.  I can count on one hand the times we weren't together.

The other is my oldest cousin, Becky.  We lost her many years too soon in a tragic accident.  She was our family organizer.  We didn't always get together as an extended family anymore, but when we did it was because she organized it and badgered us all into being there.  We were always so glad that she did when all was said and done.  I didn't see her very often, but did talk to her on facebook on a regular basis.  I will miss her infectious smile and contagious laugh.

I guess you could say I am spending some time looking backwards this year.  It's something I try to not to do very often.  I have found I'm not coordinated enough to walk forwards and look backwards!  I usually end up walking into walls!  

Looking backwards is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's a good thing to remember where the Lord has brought us from.  Going backwards is a different story.  I was reminded of this during a recent trip to the airport.  We had to return a rental car and came across the dreaded tire strips.  We've all seen them.  The have these vicious spikes in them that face the same direction we are traveling.  As long as you continue going forward you will be fine.  Your tires will roll right over the spikes with no problem at all, but try to back up and every tire on your car will be blow.  You'll be going no where fast.  The Lord showed me this can be how it is when we try to head back into our past into a place He is not taking us.  I will be the first to admit there are times when the Lord takes us back into a place from our past in order to bring about some healing.  That's not what I'm talking about.  Once God has moved us on from an event, to return, even for a visit, is dangerous.  It's so easy for the enemy to trap us there, and just like the car with the blown tires, we are going no where fast.  Our forward momentum has been stalled.

The Lord doesn't intend for us to go backwards. The Children of Israel followed a pillar of fire by night.  If they turned around and that fire was behind them, they were standing in their own shadow.  It's kind of hard to walk at night when you're standing in shadows.

So today my goal is for my focus to be of the forward kind.  Sometimes I think I'm covered in a spiritual hospital gown; if I turn around there are things exposed that no one wants to see!  Really! Take my word for it! lol

Here's to facing the front!  I'll still look  back some and remember, but that's as far as it goes. I've learned the hard way not to go for a visit.  God is good and He leads us on to bigger and better things. 

Haggai 2:9 ‘The glory of this latter temple shall be greater than the former,’ says the LORD of hosts. ‘And in this place I will give peace,’ says the LORD of hosts.”


So it would seem to me it would be one of the secrets to peace.  He gives his peace, not in the former things, but in the latter. 

I've got my marching orders and they are facing front.  You know where to find me, come by any time.  I'll be here making my lists, checking them twice, and trying to get Charlie to help me decorate this tree!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor.  

Ninjas, Jerks and Dirty Dogs

It's Veterans Day so let me start off by saying thank you to all the brave men and women who sacrifice their own desires to protect my right to purse mine.  You deserve our honor, our gratitude and our recognition.

Next, I wanted to say Happy Anniversary to my Nanny and Grandaddy.  Today, they are married 71 years!  This is the first time they've been together for their anniversary in 11 years.  If they have cake in heaven (and, of course, they do, it's heaven!) I hope they share a great big piece.  I miss you guys!!


Yesterday was an interesting, fun filled day.  I heard someone say "a good day is a day one in which you acquire knowledge".  If that is the case, then yesterday was, indeed, a good day.  I learned several things. I learned, if you let a white dog outside when it's raining, you will have a black dog that returns to your clean floor as, apparently, fresh, black, soil is irresistible if you are of the canine persuasion.   Consequently, I also learned my groomer is booked on Fridays. 

I also learned that if you discover a 6 yr old has taken the Leapster game into his bed without your knowledge he will still be awake at 11 pm and be very grumpy the next morning.  So grumpy, in fact, I contemplated pinching his head off, hiding the body, and telling God I lost him.  Never fear, he survived to grump another day and I avoided a felony sentence.

I think the most important lesson I learned, though, was centered in my kitchen.   I spent hours cleaning.  Those of you who have been forced kicking and screaming  blessed to enter my home know, I don't always have the greatest luck in the house cleaning arena.  My mother-in-law has a saying; "cleaning your house while the kids are still growing, is like shoveling the walk while it's still snowing".  I pretty much try to live by that.  Anyway, what I found is evidently a clean floor will attract soda, and, if you live with a soda ninja like I do (also known here as surfer boy) that unopened 2 liter bottle will find a way to come crashing down with enough force to break the top off.  It was like the Mt St Helen's eruption.  First, Dr Pepper sprayed my ceiling, then, the bottle fell over and started spinning around like a 4th of July firework while spewing it's contents wildly on every surface within a 15 ft perimeter.  I was covered, Surfer boy was covered, the floor, the cabinets, the ceiling, the windows were covered.  The huge load of groceries just purchase and unbagged but not put away was covered.  Since he was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher, all the cabinets were opened so now all my dishes were covered.  My pantry doors were open so everything in the pantry was covered.  Hours later, I even found soda inside the kitchen drawers.  Inside!  Every time I think I have it all, I find more.  It was honestly unlike anything I have ever seen before, and if I'd had a video camera I would, certainly be a very rich woman!

How did I react to this unexpected geyser of sticky, sweetness, you ask?  I laughed.  That's really all you could do, was laugh.  But, as usual, I learned a lesson. (one other than don't sit soda that close to the edge of the counter!)  You see, it was in his excitement over the purchase of his favorite cheesy dip of goodness that Surfer Boy knocked the soda off the counter thereby causing the mess and earning the name "soda jerk ninja".  It was simply a failure to control his exuberance, but that's not the reason I didn't get mad. It was his immediate reaction that caused grace and mercy to flow.  He automatically assumed responsibility and started cleaning up the mess.  It was the willingness to admit his mistake and take steps to rectify it that drew my heart.  As it had completely emptied that 2 liter bottle, he needed a lot of mercy, and a lot of towels!

I wonder if our attitude can spark the same reaction from the Lord.  I believe it can.  When we bring a mess to him and say "this is my mess, I made it, it's my fault, what can I do to fix it" something in God's heart is touched.  He moves in, provides us the answers we need, cleans us and our mess right up and sets us back on the right path.  We may still have to endure some consequences, but we are graced and He walks right through them with us.  Don't hesitate today to take your "mess" to the Lord with the right attitude.  He lavishes us with his grace and his goodness! 

Surfer Boy didn't get into any trouble. He'd made a mistake and took the necessary steps to fix it.  While I did help him clean up a little, he did most of it himself.  He received some mercy from me, but, I'm not God so he was on his own when it came to cleaning the ceiling!

Till next time, I'll be here chugging away, chasing boys and dogs while trying to keep things in order and keep my sanity.  On the upside, I discovered a new perfume; Ode to Dr Pepper.  It could catch on.....


Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Dorothy had it right all along

I had the wonderful opportunity not long ago to share with little Scamp a much loved movie from my childhood, The Wizard of Oz.  I remember watching it once a year filled with excitement and just a little trepidation at the appearance of those pesky flying monkeys!  Looking at it now, as an adult, I can't help but wonder how those little winged chimps could have brought on such fear.  They just looked so realistic!  Their acting skills must have been less than great, though, as I don't think any of them have done much since.  I do love the part towards the beginning of the movie when Dorothy first lands in Oz and steps out of her witch killing abode.  She had been living in a land of black and white and she is suddenly thrust into a world of brilliant color.  I've often thought this was a good representation of my life after the Lord found me. 



I have so many favorite scenes there isn't room to list them all, but one does stand out in my mind today.  It's the one when Dorothy meets the wizard for the first time.  She and all her friends fearfully make their way down the long corridor leading into the throne room of the great and mighty Oz.  When they get there the head that seems to float before them is quite intimidating.  It's harsh and angry and downright mean to the little group.  When they present their requests he requires a seemingly impossible task be completed first.  You all know the movie, I'm sure, how Dorothy throws water on the wicked witch and melts her thereby allowing her to take her magic broom for the wizard.  When they all return to the Emerald City and present the broom they are shocked when the wizard tells them to go away and come back later.  Dorothy gets mad and starts to tell the giant floating head off when her attention is grabbed by little Toto.  The little dog had discovered a curtain with a funny little man behind it over to the side.  "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" says mr floating head, but the gig is up.  He's been found out! 

How many times have we trembled in fear before a giant floating head in our life only to find out later is was controlled by a harmless little man behind the curtain?  We must not take what seems to be truth at first glance to always be right.  Dorothy and her little crew could have given up and gone away never to see the realization of their dreams, but they were willing to go behind the curtain.  They looked deeper and learned the truth, and as we all know, the truth shall set us free. 

The lesson I learned from this favorite childhood movie is this; don't accept surface reality.  Look deeper, question everything, take nothing for what it seems to be.  How many times has the enemy floated a big old giant head in front of me and told me I couldn't do something?  How many times have I, like the cowardly lion, dove through the window to escape what I was sure was certain death?  If I had only stopped to check out the little man behind the curtain, things could have turned out differently.  Remember, just like Dorothy, we already have all we need to make it home.  We simply have to believe. 

The movie has given me a few ideas.  Parts of it had the same affect on Scamp as it had on me as a child.  I wonder if those monkeys do private work.  I could use some help on the discipline front. Too much???  Maybe.......

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Great players never die, they just face plant.

It seems the weather has finally decided to cool off. I, for one, am so glad.  I don't care too much for hot temperatures.  I don't do sweating.  It's simply not a good look for me.  This hasn't  always been the case.  When I was younger I was always outdoors, always active, always involved in some sort of physical activity.  I didn't care if it was volleyball, or basketball, or biking or touch football, but softball was my favorite!

I started playing at a really young age.  At the tender age of only four years old,  I actually remember the day of my first real game.  We used a tee to hit off and I was so nervous walking up to the plate.  Coming from a totally baseball family I had been well prepared for everything except my nerves!  Nevertheless, I swung and made contact.  The ball went soaring (to my 4 yr old eyes, it was soaring!)  towards the outfield and I started running.  I made it all the way around the bases and dashed for home while the opposing team still looked like an ant hill someone had stirred up.  I was exalting in my very first homerun.  I then proceeded to jump right over the plate without touching it!  In my excitement I didn't realize I didn't touch home plate.  I triumphantly swaggered towards my dugout when I felt the catcher tag me in the back and heard the umpire say "she's out!"  I was stunned.  I remember it like it was yesterday, not 40 years ago! lol

I went on to play for many years, hit many homeruns, and develop the instincts of a pretty good player. I found out the hard way a few years back that I never lost those instincts.  It was a gorgeous summer evening.  Mumbles was playing on a rec team and it was the yearly Moms vs boys game.  The first clue that things were not as I assumed was when, while at bat, I fouled a ball off right into Mumble's eye as he knelt behind the plate as catcher.  He had quite the shiner but he learned to never play that position without his facemask.  The fact that I didn't realize I had hit him and continued to bat until hitting a ball into deep right field and rounding the bases made this not quite my shinning mom moment.  It wasn't until I was standing on third base that I realized what had happened and received my trophy as the mother of the year! 

He wasn't the only one to limp away from that game with an unfortunate injury.  The last 5 years I spent on the softball field I always played 2nd base, so it was only natural I would take up that position again in this battle of parent vs child.  I learned an important lesson that day, while I retained my natural instincts for the game, my body could no longer keep up with them.  When there was a line drive that shot straight up the middle my instincts said to quickly pivot that direction and lunge for the ball.  It seems my brain was much faster than my body!  I did find out that I am still impressively limber for an old woman of my size.  How did I come by this knowledge, you ask?  I think I first realized this fact as the bottom of my feet hit the back of my head after I face planted in the mud!  After I could breathe again I couldn't stop laughing!  While I would feel that splat for quite a few days the only obvious wound at the time was to my pride.  I don't know who was more embarrassed, my kids or me! lol



There is, of course, a point to my ramblings. I am going somewhere with all this and I welcome you to join me on the trip!  As I was recently relating this story to a friend of mine I started to see a spiritual parallel (you should have known I would).  I believe it is possible to abide in Christ to such an extent that you allow the Holy Spirit to nurture those instincts.  After 25 years of being absent from the field, I still had the instincts to do what I needed to do to make the play. The fact that I no longer had the body for it only gave me a sadly humorous tale about what happens to old women trying to recapture their youth.  The fact remained that my instincts also remained.  I want to develop my spiritual instincts in the same way.  I hope, one day, for my first reaction to be to walk after the spirit in every situation and not after the flesh.  So I'm going to be asking the Lord to reset my default button, to sharpen my instincts till my natural instinct is for the supernatural.  My goal will be to reach a point when that is the norm and not the exception.

Meanwhile, I'll still be here dreaming of green grass, the crack of the bat and the smell of a new leather glove.  I'll still dream of those things, but in reality I'll be on the couch with a coke, some popcorn and the Braves on tv, but in my head........

Till next time,

Soaked in His blessings,

Spokenfor

Don't focus on the pom poms

Friday evening found me sitting, once again, on the cold stone bleachers of the local high school football stadium.  While I enjoy a good football game, it wasn't actually the game I was there to see.  It was the band.  Mumbles plays the sousaphone.  If you're like I was at the beginning of the season you have no idea what a sousaphone is.  Let me educate you.  It's the marching band version of a tuba.  It's huge, shiny and it always looks like it's strangling him as he wears it sort of around his neck.  He's the only kid I know that can make that thing look cool.  I think he gets that ability from his mother.

I was shocked at the wave of sentiment that threatened to overtake me as I sat in the cool fall air listening to the fight song floating out over the field.  I have no personal history with high school football. My graduating class had a whopping 7 students, not exactly a sporting powerhouse.  I'm not sure what caused such a strong emotion, maybe it was the feeling of expectation in the air, the feeling that anything was possible.  Here was a whole school of kids with their whole lives stretching out ahead of them full of limitless opportunities.

On further reflection, I have decided part of what I was feeling was jealously, mixed with a little regret.  How many times have we looked at our past and thought "if only"?  If only I had known then what I know now, if only I had not made that choice, or dated that person, or walked away from that opportunity.  When I look back there is so much I wish I had done differently, or not done at all.  What kind of person would I have been if I had taken a alternative road from the one I took?  Where would I be now? Would I have the same life?  Would I have the same hang ups, the same troubles, the same "issues"?  Does it really matter?

I believe there is a danger is looking back like this.  The word tells us in Philippians 3:13-14
...But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
In other words, don't look back!  Looking backwards is a good way to run off the road!  I remember when I was preparing for my first horse show.  I had arranged to take a lesson at a local prestigious stable. One thing they taught me that day has stuck with me all these years and I have had reason to apply it to life in general more than once.  Before you want your horse to make a turn, you change what you are focusing on.  If you are in the air over a jump and you know when you land you have to make a sharp right turn to make the next jump, you'd better be looking to your right while you're still in the air.  You change your focus and your mount will follow.


What I'm stumbling around trying to say is things run smoother if you watch where you're going.  You cannot move forward while looking back.  So my goal this week will be to keep my spiritual peepers pointed where I want to go because, as we've heard today, your focus becomes your destination.  I don't want my destination to become a foray into the land of could of, should of, would ofs.  As difficult as some things in life may be, they are all part of who you are today.  Just think, if you went back, sure, you may have that cheerleader body again, you may not have your grey hair, your stretch marks, your wrinkles and middle age spread, but you also would not have the wisdom you have gained through the years.  I don't know about you, but I don't want to have to learn all that over again!



Enjoy this week where you are. Don't look back.  I'll be here working on facing the front and continuing to be forward focused.  Now, if I could only find a place to store my pom poms........


Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Indiana Jones and the lost suggestion box

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, won't you be mine? Oh won't you be mine?  Sorry, I couldn't help it.  It really is a gorgeous day today after the rain and the wind of the last two days.  Irene limped into the area, huffed and puffed and slid on out leaving limbs down and flowers bedraggled by a bit of a beating.  I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed it.  There are few things I like better than a rainy Saturday.  Things are getting back to normal now that the storm has passed.  J is working in the yard, getting all the debris cleaned up and the kids have all gone their separate ways to worship band practice or marching band practice, or video games or homework (hey! a mom can dream!) or whatever else they do while hiding in the rooms acting like teenagers.

I've tried to drag them out and make them spend time together as a family, but it's like pulling teeth.  I know they are at that age when they are establishing their own identity, forging their own way, pulling away from mom to form their own life, blah, blah, blah!  Where did my little boys all go??!  I remember the days when all I had to do was suggest they come sit on my lap, or give me a hug.  There was ever a time when I could simply suggest they clean their rooms and, sometimes, they actually did it.  Now they have turned into these big smelly creatures with a mind of their own.  They don't mind the mess, the clutter, the funky smell.  I can "suggest" till I'm blue in the face, but that room won't be cleaned without, usually, a computer ban threat.  I think my suggester must be broken. 

Lately, I have found my suggestions falling on deaf ears in other areas of my life as well.  It seems the answer to some of my prayers has been no or not yet, despite the fact I strongly suggested otherwise.  I heard someone say once that they had asked God for something and it hadn't happened and, to them, this indicated He just didn't answer prayer.  I tried to be very loving when I informed them, maybe the answer was "no".  They looked at me as if I had lost my ever lovin mind.  Sometimes we forget "no" is an answer.   When we ask things of God, when we share our hearts with Him, He listens. He cares. He feels our pain.  The word tells us He even saves every tear we've ever cried.  He is, however, also an all knowing God as well as an all loving God and occasionally what we think is best for our life, he knows is not.  We can share our hearts with him, thereby deepening our relationship, but He is not a vending machine where you put in the right amount of money/prayer and out pops your desire.  The Holy Spirit does not have a suggestion box.  To live a truly fulfilled life is to trust that he has the right answers at the right time. 

This concept is such a freeing one.  No longer do I feel the need to take a list to the Lord of all the things I want/need in my life.  I can relax and just enjoy spending time with Him.  Sure, I still tell Him what I would like to happen, but I try to remember the answer may still be "no".  I remember the word tells us to seek Him first and He will add all the other stuff to us.  I find as I spend more time with him that He fills my heart with the desires He wants me to have.  When you pray something the Lord wants to do anyway, you can rest assured of that positive outcome. 

My goal this week is to relax in my heavenly father knowing he wants only good things for my life and I won't always know what those things are.  I hope to begin to respond in a way that pleases him when the answer is "no".  I will keep reminding myself that he doesn't need my suggestions on how the world should be run.  He's pretty much got a good handle on things. 

My teenagers are a different story.  I'm thinking of finding a way to move those suggestions into the physical realm, like maybe with a bull whip.  I bet that would get their attention!  Indiana Jones ain't got nothing on me!



Till next time I'll be
Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Italian dinners and snot nosed apple thieves.........

 The following is a post that was written just about one year ago.  I thought it needed some editing so I never published it. Then, true to form for me, I forgot about it.  But! It made for a great discovery today.  So here it is............


We went to a dinner at church tonight. It was called Dinner and Discovery. The food was great, lets get the important stuff out of the way first, but, more importantly, it was a great opportunity to get to know some other people in this new church we now call home. Pastor Awesome took time after we ate some wonderful italian, to give us an overview of what Church Alive believes and how it came to be. It was a time of discovery, but not only about the church, I discovered something about myself as well. I'm still in there! Even after a thousand years of being a mom, a wife, a writer, a singer, a worker, I'm still me, just little old me.

It's so easy in our busy lives, especially as women, to lose ourselves as we nurture, care for, and give out to our families and others. That is one thing God is working on in me with this relocation. I am in a church that is filled with people and a ministry team that is open to me. They have no preconceived notion of who I am or what I have done in the past. I am just me, with all my strengths and weakness, with all my good and bad traits, my intelligence and stupidity, my gifts, my passions, my goofiness and everything else that makes up who I am.

It's so easy when we have been in the same place for a long time, with the same people, to become locked into what others perceive us to be. It becomes comfortable. We cease to become stretched and sometimes, to grow. The word speaks of a prophet having no honor in his home town. I can only imagine it might be difficult to take seriously the message of God coming from the same guy who used to be the snot nosed kid running barefoot through your yard, stealing apples from your tree.

So the challenge is this; be who you are! Be who God created you to be, not everyone else's perception of who God created you to be. You will probably rock a few boats, upset a few apple carts, and blow a few minds, but it's worth it. To live a life short of what God intends, is to not really live life at all. There is great joy in the freedom that comes from breaking out of the rut, the easy life you find yourself in.

So, take a chance and be who you are, not who others think you are! You don't have to have a relocation to set free the real you from the bonds of the expectations of those around you.  Turn a few heads, shake a few worlds, rock a boat or two, step out and embrace the wonderful you that the Lord created you to be!  There's great comfort in relaxing and doing what comes naturally, whatever that may be!

Until next time, I'll still be,

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Boats, Mice, and Cheese Pizza

Here I am home, mostly alone, almost at peace.  Aaahhh, you gotta love it when the guys feel the need to run off to the woods and do the "guy bonding thing".  It's been just Scamp and me at home since yesterday morning and, I must admit, the semi-solitude has been enjoyable.  The laundry pile hasn't really grown all that much, there really aren't a lot of dishes in the sink and the clutter in the living room is at an all time low.  I could get used to this.  Of course, it loses some of it's shine when I have to do things like, go out and untangle the dumb 3-legged dog because she keeps getting her line caught in the bushes, or go get the mail, or pump gas, or take out the trash or bring in the groceries or walk the dog or, or, or, ok, it's time for them to come home!  Upon further review, I'm tired!!

I spoke with J earlier today and it sounds as if everyone has had a good time.  They are on a white water rafting trip with the youth group from church.  Of course, J had to start our conversation with something like "well there was only one injury on the river today.......... it was Mumbles"   It seems there were 5 boats but only 2 guides. So 3 of the adult chaperones were "captains" over the other 3 boats.  Mumbles was in a boat with the youth pastor as captain.  The boat with one of the guides came along side and he started to goof off and give the guide a hard time, just playing around. The guide, being of the fairly young variety and therefore lacking a while lot of good judgement, reached out, grabbed Mumbles and yanked him from his boat.  All in good fun ha ha, good joke, very humorous, no harm done. Right?  Well, it seems the guide had forgotten they were approaching a series of rapids right about that time and, after being sucked under the boats and spit out the other side, Mumbles was out of reach of anyone actually inside a boat.  He ended up going through that whole series of rapids on his back, head first.  Thankfully, the Lord was watching over him and he emerged from the other side with only a slightly beat up knee.  It could have been so much worse! It could have been disastrous! 

Here's the thing, I prayed for my boys, just like I always do, but my prayers were concentrated on Monkey Boy and Surfer Dude, who, despite their names, are not the strongest swimmers in the family.  Mumbles, while goofy, is a very strong swimmer so I worried less about him.  In the end, it didn't matter. God had it all under control and no one was seriously injured and some important lessons were learned. Namely, don't give a hard time to someone who has your life in his hands while going down a river. (cue the banjo music)

Once I stopped hyperventilating over the near miss of tragedy and picked myself back up off the floor I started to ponder what had happened in the way only my tilted brain can do.  You know me, once again, there was a startling spiritual parallel.  I guess the moral would be "be careful who you float your boat close to".   Sometimes, in the enjoyment of our life's river we get a little lax and start to float places we don't really need to be.  I'm not talking about strip clubs, bars, crack houses or Chuck E Cheeses (sorry, Chuck, truth is truth, you live in a house of insanity), I'm talking about those times in life where we just simply quit paddling and start to float.  The problem with floating, while relaxing enough, is that we have no control over our destination.  We are at the current's mercy.  Before we know it, our boat has drifted alongside the enemy's boat and, in an instant, he has snagged us and thrown us into the water.   It pays to vigilant.  It pays to stay in control of your path by listening to the Lord and following what he says, not simply going wherever the river might take you. 

Who are you floating near today?  Have you stowed your oars in favor of a relaxing float? Are there things or people encroaching on the space that should be reserved only for the Lord?  Today I'm going to re-examine the current that I'm in.  I'm going to pick my oars back up and ask the Captain for some direction.  Floating may be relaxing, but I'd rather stay in my boat.  I don't want to get my hair wet, I just washed it.

Until next time, I'll be here, paddling away and trying to avoid large grey mice hawking cheese pizza.

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Why do you ask???

Sooo, this post will be a little different than what I usually post.  I've participating in a fellow blogger's weekly writing workshop.  I've chosen one of the prompts from the list given and the following is the result.  Hope you enjoy this little side track from the usual.....


prompt - Why didn't they ask you? Write a list of 5 or 10 sentences that begin with the words 'No one ever asked me'; then, write about one of them in detail, or use them all in a poem, or use several in a personal description of yourself.

1. No one ever asked me how much I love my children.
2. No one ever asked me how I wish my childhood had been different.
3. No one ever asked me what it was like living on foreign soil.
4. No one ever asked me what super hero I want to be.
5. No one ever asked me if I would like to be a bear.
6. No one ever asked me what it's like to have 5 boys.
7. No one ever asked me to jump into a volcano.
8. No one ever asked me if I was really a woman
9. No one ever asked me why schools consider ketchup a vegetable.
10. No one ever asked me to dance. 


Ok, so there's my 10 sentences. Now, what should I do with them?  Well, I guess I could address them one by one.  First, my children and how much I love them;  I have five gorgeous boys.  They are both spread out in age and all squished up all at the same time.  How is that possible?  Well, the year my oldest started college, my youngest started preschool.  The middle 3, however are only 2 1/2 years apart and none of them are twins!  So, having that many males in my house gets a little busy, busy and smelly.  ( I guess this is really the answer to #6 as well!)  Most of the time my house looks a little like a frat house minus the beer kegs.  The bathroom would rival any bathroom at any truck stop on any interstate in the country!  When we can smell it from outside I make my husband go clean it.  I'm certainly not going in there! Most of the time I know way too much about the latest video game craze, alternative christian music, geeky techno movies and other such strange boy stuff.  I have no help cleaning house, no help in the kitchen, no help with the laundry.  I am swimming in a lake of testosterone and am in danger of sinking.  On the other hand, I am so blessed!  I never have to open a door, pick up anything heavy, carry in the groceries, start the fire, take out the trash, pump the gas, change a light bulb, cut the grass, wash the car, walk the dog, or fear the boogie man will break in and get me.   I never have a shortage of hugs, kisses, snuggles, or laughs.  I've learned it's not the end of the world when the baseball goes through the window, the toilet overflows (again!), there is nothing to eat in the house, the music is loud enough to rattle the windows, there are more teenagers in the house than humanly possible and there is yet another argument between brothers.  My boys. I can't live without them, I can't do away with them. (it would take too much to hide the bodies)
To answer #4, my perfect super hero? I think I would want to be Procrastination Woman!  I've had so much practice already.  When I hear a cry for help, I will answer with "I'll save you.......................eventually!!"  
#5 Do I want to be a bear?  Why yes, thank you, that would be so cool!  Just think of it. A female bear is expected to be fat, her legs are supposed to be hairy, she gives birth in her sleep,  it's her right to be cranky and she gets to sleep for months at a time and no one calls her lazy.  She eats all she wants and no on bothers her.  Sounds pretty good to me! 
To sum it all up, yes, I really am a woman,  there are no volcanoes anywhere around, I can't dance, and since tomatoes are technically a fruit, that makes ketchup a smoothie not a veggie. 


This has been an interesting exercise and I hope you have enjoyed this glimpse into my tilted brain and have not been too traumatized by it.  Come back in a couple of days as we resume our regularly scheduled programing.  Still, as always, I'm ,


Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Don't give your flowers an umbrella

It rained here this weekend, almost all weekend.  It wasn't a non-stop kind of thing, but it was fairly frequent over both days.  I enjoyed it.  I always enjoy the rain. It's the perfect sleeping weather.  It does make it humid, though.  We attended the graduation party of a special young woman Saturday afternoon. It was a great time with tasty food and wonderful company. It was also hot, not your average, "it's a little warm out here, I need to fan myself hot", but "oh my word! I'm melting and I can't even breathe" kind of hot!  I spent a large portion of the time inside in the air conditioning.  Sometimes it pays to bring along the antsy 6 yr old who can't be still while the speeches are all going on before the cake is cut.  So, Scamp and I sat in the den and watched "Shark Week" as I tried to recover from getting too hot and making myself sick.  Even with that, it was a wonderful party for a amazing person. 

What made it seem so hot and sticky was the humidity.  Sure, the temp was up, but the real culprit  was the rain that had saturated the air and made it so moist perspiring did nothing to cool you down.  I will say, however, the yards haven't looked this good in a while, at least in my opinion.  J sees it a different way.  He was frustrated with his inability to get any real amount of yard work done.  J is a worker. Me? Not so much.  I have no problem sitting inside on a rainy weekend and reading a book or watching tv or taking a snooze.  For J, that is pure torture!  He has to be moving, doing, accomplishing, not sitting.  So, while we need the rain and he was thankful for the rain, he was really wishing it had come during the week and not on one of his "home" work days. 

I had no problem with it. We've already covered the fact that I have a PHD in relaxing, but besides that, I'm really enjoying the results.  The sun is just coming up and it's soft light is dappled by the leaves on the trees giving it a fresh, gentle look, as if speaking of the days promise.  The grass and the bushes look lush and green and plump with satisfaction having taken in all the moisture they could hold.  It really is quite beautiful.  The peace of this lovely scene is broken only by the cat who is snoring as she lays at my feet.  It's always something around here! 

I am also noticing the flowers on my back porch.  They don't look so good.  I've got several pots of some sort of pink and red flowers.  I don't remember what they are, but I've worked hard this summer to keep them alive.  It's a difficult task me for as I am usually where plants go when they have been sentenced to die for some horrible deed in the plant world.  These are still hanging in there.  I have to admit, though, they are the second planting as the first ones didn't make it.  That one wasn't my fault, however, since it was due to a freakishly bad hail storm, but that's a different story.  Anyway, the current residents of my back deck flower pots look a little bedraggled.  I'm sure they'll be fine once they get a little sun, but the beating they received from the downpours have left them less than perky.  (now there's something I can relate to, being less than perky, but that, too, is a different blog) 

All this pondering has deposited a realization in me.  It rains when it wants to rain, not when it's convenient for us, not when it fits into our schedule or our agenda, but when the right elements align, we get rain.  It really doesn't matter what day of the week or time of the year it is.  When it's right, it's rain. 

You know I can't just leave it at that.  Nope, gotta go one step further.  The Lord brings the rain of refreshing into our lives on his time, not ours.   I'm sure, if you could ask mr flower on my back deck if he enjoyed being beat half to death by the rain he would have assured you it was not one of his favorite things.  However, when the sun is at it's highest today and it's beating down on him in all it's fiery strength, that flower will be glad it has moisture deep down around it's roots it can draw from.  I believe that is the case in our lives sometimes.  The Lord can pour out his rain on us until we are nearly drowning.  It can soak us to the point of saturation and beyond.  We can even think "enough!" and yet he still pours it down. But then, the heat of life comes and we have that moisture deep down we can draw from.  If the water doesn't go deep, the roots won't go deep.  Just like that flower, our roots won't grow deep into the soil if there is no moisture there. 

There may be times in our lives when we thirst for the rain of the Lord.  Life is rough, we are feeling dry and there's not a cloud in the sky.  Then there are times when the Lord is ready to pour into us the waters of refreshing, but we are too concerned with what we need to do.  We find it difficult to sit still and allow him to revive us because we have work to do and the rain is hindering us.  The downpour of the spirit's rain comes on his schedule.  When God decides  it should rain, you'd better get ready because, like it or not, convenient or not, you're gonna get wet!

I want to be so attuned to the Spirit I don't ever miss a time of refreshing because I'm too wrapped up in my work.  I ask the Lord, today, to make me child like.  I've seen my kids, when they were small, playing in the rain without a care in the world.  Standing out in the yard with raindrops falling all around them, soaking them to the core, they had no thought to anything, they only felt.  They only were.  Content to soak up the glory of the moment, they had no thought of muddy feet or dripping clothes or the bath that would have to follow.  I want to be as caught up in the moment as they were, so caught up in the flooding of the spirit I have no thought for anything else but enjoying the moment.  Because it rains when God wants it to and not before.

So take a good look at your spiritual sky today.  Are there clouds up there full of refreshing rain getting ready to unleash all over you and your schedule?  Take advantage of it. Don't let what you wanted to accomplish hinder the work the Lord wants to do in your life. Sometimes that is to rain all kinds of blessings of refreshment down on your head. So don't get out your umbrella so you can keep working! Stand out in the yard and soak in the wonder of it.  The rain doesn't come every day so be ready to enjoy it when it does.  Just like those flowers, one day you're going to need that moisture, so soak it up while you can. 

I'll be here, enjoying the view from my window.  You didn't expect me to go out there, did you?  It's hot out there!  It's humid out there!  There is dirt out there with bugs and junk!  No thank you.  I'll enjoy my view from my table by the window.  My idea of roughing it means the pool is closed.  Until next time I am.......

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor


The Secret to Life

Soft, misty shades of green
seem to float outside my window,
beckon me to gaze, dream
as the day emerges from slumber.

I lose myself in the glory
of the newness, the freshness of hope
again within the grasp.

The shadows are dappled,
the air cool,
pure, like breathing champagne,
untainted by a sun not yet harsh.

How simple, how childlike,
how uncluttered is the morning.
Therein lies the secrete to life.

Don't forget to recycle!

It's been a long hot summer around here.  It's been a busy one too.  We've had 2 birthdays, 2 trips to Ga, 2 trips to Wy, 2 deaths and a surgery, not to mention, various trips to dentists and eye doctors, pediatricians, and the like, a terrible tick infestation and a lyme disease scare.  It hasn't left a lot of "leisure" time!  J's birthday went almost unnoticed, unfortunately.  No, I didn't actually forget, J was out of town on his birthday.  I'm not sure he even received much of a present.

I love giving  presents.  I take it as a personal challenge to find the perfect gift to match the person.  I'm sure I enjoy it as much as the person receiving it!  I love to wrap them in unusual ways as well.  I remember one year at Christmas I used the old trick of wrapping J's present in a box that was in a box that was in a box that was in a box.  I don't even remember what I gave him, I just remember how much fun it was to watch him keep opening boxes until he finally reached the prize in the middle.

The Lord brought this image to mind not long ago.  I was sitting with a friend over coffee talking about the freedom there is to be found in Jesus.  I was explaining how I was once in a church I thought was free, then God moved us to a different church and I found more freedom there.  After a while, the Lord moved us yet again and I found a bit more freedom.  After this last move, I can honestly say He brought me into a place of still more freedom.  It was like those boxes, only instead of each one getting smaller, they were each getting bigger.

God wants us to live, to grow, to operate in complete freedom.  That means, not a bigger box, but no box!  I don't mean with no order and rampant chaos, but to live in such a manner that I free God from whatever "box" I have him in and allow Him to do just as He pleases without my interference.  I also realize it's a process, this freedom thing.  It doesn't all happen at once.  He brings us into more and more freedom as we walk with him, and as we walk with him and get to know him more and more, we will trust him more and more.  As we learn to trust him more and more we realize he doesn't need our help.  He doesn't need our schedules or plans or programs or agendas.  He only needs open hearts that are willing to relinquish control to him, no matter what that looks like in life.  I don't want to hinder what God wants to do in me and through me by saying "yes, God have complete control in my life, as long as it looks like this and it can happen within these parameters".

It can be a scary thing to let go and let God be God.  It takes trust to realize he is, in fact, bigger than I am and quite capable of handling the control I so reluctantly turn over to him.  I'm sure things looked pretty out of control for Joseph about the time he landed in the bottom of that pit, but God was doing something too big for him to see at that moment.  We must not fear turning control over to the Lord. (I know!! I know!! easier said than done!!!)  But the word tells us in 1John 4:8 that perfect love casts out all fear.  That's all fear, even the fear of losing control.

So, I say to you, get out of the box!  Better yet, release the Lord from the box and put it in the recycling bin where it belongs!  Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!  Cardboard is not a good look for you, anyway.  It's so last year!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Invisible ropes and hot pink toenails

I like to think I have a fun family.  All my boys have their own quirky personalities and wit and I enjoy each and every one of them.  Most of us are spontaneous and passionate about so many things in life, be it faith, politics, our schools, our church or even whether or not ketchup is actually a vegetable.  J, my husband, is like the may pole in the celebration.  He just quietly, resolutely stands firmly in the middle of the chaos while we all spin around him.  One thing I love that my boys are not always appreciative of is a good practical joke.  I remember painting my oldest son's and a friend of his toenails hot pink while they slept one night.  That doesn't hold a candle to the time my middle boys had a bunch of friends over for the night.  They were all sleeping on the floor in the play room upstairs.  I rose early that Saturday morning (something unheard of!!!) and quietly taped plastic wrap across the doorway in a 3 foot section just about 10 year old boy height.  Then, I went back downstairs to the living room and yelled up over the loft "boys! I've got pancakes! last one down does the dishes!!".  All 6 of those boys hit that door running and went down like a stack of dominoes!   After I was able to stand once more and had wiped my eyes I did make those pancakes and I didn't make any of them do the dishes.  I still laugh whenever I think of that morning!

They did get their revenge, though.  They put a rubber band around the trigger of the sprayer on the kitchen sink.  When I turned on the water to do those dishes I got a big surprise!

Monkey Boy has learned well what he has witnesses in his home as he has grown.  One afternoon he and a friend of his, being bored little boys, were looking for some mischief to get into.  They went out to a little side road, one on each side of the road and waited for a car to come by.  Then, they would both pantomime pulling on a rope, as if they were stretching it across the road in front of on coming traffic.  Of course, there was no rope, but I cannot tell you how many cars actually stopped and waited for them to lower their "rope" before they would attempt to drive past.  One person even became angry and would not drive on until they pretended to remove the rope completely from the road!  It was all in good fun, but, like so many things in life, it got me to thinking. 

How many times have we been stopped in our tracks by that invisible rope of the enemy?  We're moving on down the path God has set us on, focused on our destination, when we are momentarily distracted by something on the side of the road.  Once we lose that focus we open ourselves up to the distractions of Satan.  Often times he (Satan) will throw things in our path that are meant to trip us up, to stall us, to get us to lose our focus and pull up.  But just like that invisible rope my boys were using they can't stop us unless we let them.  If those drivers had looked where they were going more than at what was going on on the side of the road, they would have seen there was no rope, but because the boys were doing such a good job of pretending there was a rope the drivers bought into the idea and it became an obstacle for them.  Many times we see the enemy acting and talking as if he has finally found the thing that can stop us and we buy into the idea.  Satan doesn't have to actually do anything, he only has to make us believe that he is blocking our way for his plan to be successful. 

We don't have to stop and wait for him to lower his invisible rope.  We get to buzz on by, free in the liberty of Christ, knowing there is nothing the enemy can do to hinder us as long as we keep our focus on the Lord. 

So go!  Drive on! Don't let the goofy people on the side of the road slow you down.  Give no thought to the man behind the curtain, oh wait, different story.  You get the idea.  There's nothing our there that can stop you, except YOU.   I'll be here, spinning around my tall, bald may pole. You're welcome to stop by, but be careful using the kitchen sink and fall asleep at your own risk.  You can't say you haven't been warned!!!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Chocolate Tar and Good Intentions

I'm in the mood for cake, chocolate cake.  Anybody out there got a good recipe you could share???  I'm bored with the ones I've got and ready for something new, maybe something with sour cream.   MMMM!!  just thinking about it makes me want to get the milk ready!  We're a true southern family around here, despite J's upbringing.  We celebrate with cake. We not only celebrate with cake, we see just about any reason a good enough one for a good cake.  If someone has surgery, take them a cake, baby arrives? Time for cake!  Birthday, anniversary, end of school, pass your drivers test, pass your eye test, go all day without stubbing your toe?  It all calls for cake! 

I remember one Valentines day J and the boys thought it would be sweet to back me a heart shaped chocolate cake.  J does nothing half way so this was not to be simply a cake from a box, but a real life, from scratch, mess up the whole kitchen, cake.  What you must remember is, all this took place while I was out somewhere.  I don't remember where and, I guess, it doesn't really matter (probably hiding from my children, if the truth be known! lol).  While an amazing engineer J is less than a star in the kitchen.  Let's just say, if I ever want water burned I know who to call! lol  He has come a long way since then.  One thing he has learned that he didn't know at the time was how to tell the difference between flour and powdered sugar when they are in unmarked canisters.  So, when I got home I was met with a dirty kitchen, 4 smiling boys, 1 chagrined husband, and a heart shaped cake pan filled with sweet chocolate tar!  After I confiscated the spoons from the boys as they all stood around having a cup of cake I wondered if I needed to give them insulin shots! lol  It's the thought that counts, right?  that and the fact that he cleaned up the mess for me!

It's true that things would have been much easier if J and the boys had used a box of cake mix.  It would probably have turned out much better, for sure, but then I wouldn't have this sweet memory! (pun intended!)  I wouldn't trade that unique sweet treat, as uneatable as it was, for any box mix anywhere.  Why? You ask?  Because, as "different" as it was, it was made with love.  It was a one of a kind.

Have you ever thought about how unique we all are?  We are like that sweet treat made so many years ago by my men folk.  Each one of us is different.  We've all had cake from a box.  I'm not knocking it, I've certainly made my share.  It's quick, it's easy and it's a step above buying the ready made ones in the freezer section, but they're all the same really.  I'll bet if I put a piece of cake made from a cake mix and a piece of home made cake in front of you, you could tell the difference.  Why?  Because we've all had the box mix before and it always taste pretty much the same.  You could make 1000 boxes and they would all taste pretty much the same.  It's different when you make a homemade cake.  There's always that little difference.  It's never exactly the same as it was the last time you made it. 

I've got news for you.  God doesn't use box mixes either!  He didn't sit up in heaven and mass produce 100 Susans to spread around the world. Then 200 Daniels to scatter over the earth. Nope, He took the time to create each one of us from scratch!  No shortcuts here, only the real thing.  We are like a bakery's display window, filled with many different treats, each one slightly different than the next.  This one has frosting, this one doesn't.  This one is round and this one is square.  This one is made with nuts and.......  well, I know quite a few of us who are nuts so we'll leave that one alone! lol 

My point is this. Don't envy the donut beside you or wish you were like the nutty fudge down the way.  Be proud of how God made you!  If you have sprinkles, share your sprinkles with the world!  God delights in each and every one of us.  It doesn't matter if we think we are the sweetest treat in the window or not.  He made you, from scratch, and he sings over you!  He desires to consume us in His love.  How wonderful does that sound??? 

So spread your sweetest to those around you.  Be proud of your pink icing, your powdered sugar glaze or your sprinkling of pecans!  There's not another cookie like you and that's just how the master baker wants it!

Meanwhile, I'll be here, craving chocolate cake and trying to keep J out of the kitchen!  Feel free to drop on by, especially if you're carrying cake!

Misbehaving Women and Polite Stones

Recently J and  I found ourselves in Blowing Rock North Carolina.  It's called Blowing Rock because there is a rock there that does seem, occasionally, to blow at you.  Maybe I should explain.  Up in the mountains of NC, just outside of town, is a rock formation with an entire park built around it.  It is said, if you throw something off the top of the rock, which juts out over a drop of a couple hundred feet, the wind will blow it right back to you, kind of like a gentleman returning a lady's dropped hanky! lol Maybe it was out of order that day, but it didn't work for us, but people swore to us that it did, indeed happen at times.  We have been living here for almost a year now (wow! I can hardly believe that!) and there are so many places we have been unable to go see yet.  This was one such place.  So, when the in laws were in town for Easter we decided to make the trip over there. The problem was, no one informed the weather just what our plans were and it was miserable!  It rained, it was cold, and the fog was so thick you couldn't see the end of the van we were driving!  So, in the end, I think it was beautiful up in the mountains, but I really don't know as I couldn't actually see anything!

My favorite thing I brought back with me from our trip was, believe it or not, a bumper sticker.  It had the startling saying "women who behave seldom make history" emblazoned on it. I just love that!  I bought one for a good friend of mine whom I knew would appreciate it.  We all need one good friend who understands us.  Anyway, I have been pondering that saying lately (yes, I know I need to get a life!).  History is full of women who made a difference, who furthered the cause of justice, or saw growth in the kingdom of God simply by misbehaving.  Think of Rosa Parks.  You could say she was a misbehaving woman.  She certainly didn't obey the rules of where she was supposed to sit on that bus and look at the impact it ended up having.  There were so many nameless, faceless women who resisted obedience to the laws of the day in order to enact change during the women's suffrage movement.  The word of God is full of examples of misbehaving women.  Think of Rahab the harlot. She disobeyed and hid the spies  from Israel and in return she and her house were spared, and we know her story, she made history.  Let's don't forget about Queen Esther.  She broke the law when approaching the king without being first summoned, it didn't matter that she was his wife.  He could have, within the law, had her killed for that act alone. Yet, she bravely disobeyed that law and in the end saved the nation of Israel.  In the New Testament we find the story of the woman with the issue of blood.  She was considered unclean and therefore was not to be in the company of other people.  If she did venture out, she was required to walk along shouting "unclean, unclean!" By pressing in through the crowds and quietly touching the hem of his garment she broke Levitical law, but by breaking that law she received her healing.   Sometimes it's not an act that is against the law but against the accepted culture of the time.   Look at the harlot who interrupted Jesus with a group of men in order to break open an alabaster box and anoint his feet, wash them with her tears and dry them with her hair.  That was a great big 'no-no' that had tongues flapping and the town buzzing, but she walked away with the gift of forgiveness.

There are many times in our lives where, in order to get something we want, we have to go against the flow, against what is considered acceptable.  Sometimes the Lord will ask us to step out in faith and do something that will set a few tongues a wagging. Don't stop to listen to wagging tongues. Step out onto nothing and you will find it become solid beneath your feet. 

So step out, take a risk, don't be afraid to do the unacceptable, the dangerous, the unexpected, the taboo if that is where the Lord is leading you.  You won't be disappointed. He won't leave you hanging out to dry.  Trust Him and go misbehave and make history!

Until then I'll be here checking the weather and hoping for another trip to the rock that huffs and puffs!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Cleaning the fish does not mean giving them a bubble bath.....

I can't believe summer is here.  I know the calendar says it's a little ways off yet, but Memorial Day has passed and it's hotter than a cheap tamale so I say it's summer time.  We can all pull out the white pants and shoes now with no fear of being out of season.  I am in the south, remember, where white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day is taboo.  We survived the three day holiday intact. We had the required grilled burger and yard work without the annual trip to the pool.  I just didn't have it in me this year, well, that and the fact that I still don't have a pool key, but that's another story completely.  (sorry, I'm a little distracted by the ginormous spider right outside my window that has just caught a bug and is busy wrapping his breakfast to go. eewwww!!!)    We also watched the required series marathon on tv.  This year it was a show called "River Monsters with Jeremy Wade".  Have you ever seen it?  It really is fascinating.  I will never swim in a river again, but the show was great.  This guy, Jeremy, travels the world, fishing in all these remote locations for what he calls "fresh water monsters".  Some of the things he pulls out of the water are enough to give a girl nightmares!  He caught a catfish that weighed 300lbs.  300lbs!!!!  It looked as if it could have swallowed a small child, and was actually accused of doing just that.  Boat ride? No thanks, I'm just find right here on the shore!  On the last episode we watched, Jeremy was fishing somewhere on the Amazon river in South America.  He was trying to catch a really nastily aggressive fish with way too many teeth called the wolf fish.  So here this guy is in the middle of the night, fishing a small stream out in the jungle, hundreds of miles from civilization, for a fish that could rip him to shreds.  (Jeremy, while somewhat attractive, is not necessarily the smarted fish in the pond!)  After days of fishing, he finally hooks a wolf fish.  Unfortunately, the stream he is dipping his rod into is also home to a cayman.  If you're not familiar with the cayman, it's a slightly smaller, somewhat more aggressive cousin to the crocodile.  It's not something you want to cuddle up to! lol  They are the gangstas of the jungle. In other words, they will cut you.  Anyway, back on the river, Jeremy has finally beaten the odds and his frustration and hooked a wolf fish.  However, he is really more concerned about the cayman and it's interest in his catch than he is landing his trophy.  In his rush to get it out of the water before his competition can sink it's teeth into it, he lets it get away.  After words of extreme frustration the likes of which I cannot reprint here, Jeremy decides to try a different location.  Good idea, Jeremy!  Wow! what made you think of that one?  Could the critter waiting to remove a limb have been part of your persuasion?  So the mighty hunter moves to a more conducive spot, lands his aquatic treasure, gets the shot on camera, releases his gilled friend and as his smiling face filled my tv screen the credits roll and everyone is happy.

Most of you know me well enough by now to know my brain works in mysterious ways and sees connections where few others do and this is no exception.  After the tv watching was completed for the evening my mind continued to return to the cayman inhabited stream in the dark, lonely regions of South America.  (if I have my way, in my mind is the closest I will ever get to actually being there. my idea of roughing it means there's no room service!)  You see, Jeremy was fishing in the cayman's territory.  His reptilian friend was there first and had already laid claim to all that surrounded it.  Being a conservationist, Jeremy wouldn't just pick up a gun and blow the gnarly, blood thirsty monster away.  I, on the other hand, not being a conservationist would not have had any problem at all helping Mr Toothy meet his maker before I started fishing.  (don't send me nasty notes, I love all God's creatures, but I am allergic to being eaten by one)  Jeremy wanted something the cayman considered his and in the process of trying to get it nearly lost more blood than was healthy and in the end lost the fish as well.  When we are going after something in our lives the enemy considers his we must not go in blindly, hoping he won't mind if I just grab this one little thing and go.  Unless you enjoy a good spiritual blood letting it would be wise to take some precautions first.  Think of how much easier it would have been to land the fish had the cayman (the enemy) been bound up first.  When we have, by choices we have made, given the enemy of our souls legal right to something we can expect he will fight to keep it.  The good news is, through the blood of Jesus, it's possible to remove that legal right, bind the enemy up, and regain what has been lost.  Make no mistake, trying to do this in your own power will, most often, result in spiritual blood loss as well as the possible removal off a spiritual limb or two.  Don't hesitate to accept the authority given to you through the blood of the lamb to bind up the caymans in your life and take back what the enemy has stolen and now considers his possession.

What are you missing in your life? Are there things you have allowed the enemy to slip in and take that you would like to have back? Go! Get your spiritual fishing rod, the bait of the Holy Spirit found in the tackle box of the Word and go fishing!  But first, make sure you deal with the cayman in your stream or you could be in trouble.

In the meantime, I'll be here, sitting on the side, dangling my toes in the water............of the pool!  If you had seen what I had seen you would feel the same way.  I'm now suspect of the little creek behind the house. You never know...........

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Do I have a weasel stuck in my teeth?

I love Charlie.  There, I said it. I admit to it.  I love him and I don't even care if J knows it.  In fact, J is the one who introduced us this past fall.  I took one look at that curly dark hair around big brown eyes and I was hooked!  The deal was completely sealed when he looked right up and licked me on the nose!  Yes, in case you haven't figured it out, Charlie is my little shiz-tzu. I know I am not spelling that right so don't bother to send me notes about how it's wrong and what the correct way to spell it is.  You are dealing with a woman who occasionally has to check her drivers license to make sure she is spelling her name correctly.  After all, I've only had this last name for 20 years.  You can't expect perfection over night.  Aaaanyway, back to Charlie.  He was a birthday present from J last year.  He's a sweet little dog who is a lot of company here when I'm alone in the house, which seems to be more and more as the kids grow up.  Charlie doesn't do any tricks, he doesn't sit when you tell him to, he won't shake your hand, he won't go to bed when told, he won't roll over, sit up, or play dead.  The one thing Charlie will do is play fetch, over and over and over and over and..... you get the picture.  He has gone through countless stuffed toys, bones, balls, socks and numerous other items that have been fetched into ruin.  Right now we're working on a stuffed weasel, or ferret, the jury is still out on which one it actually is.
The thing is, Charlie will chase that toy for as long as you will throw it.  Sometimes I sit on the couch watching tv or reading and just throw it over and over again hoping he will tire of it but he never does.  Then one day I realized I am basically his home gym!  Who needs a doggy treadmill when you have someone who will give you something to chase for the equivalent of 12 miles?  I do, however, get some entertainment out of it.  You see, our downstairs are all hardwood floors and when you're a small furry dog they don't offer a whole lot of traction.  So, if you're not careful and you run pell mell after a small, stuffed weasel you can slide right into the wall. Every. Single. Time.  I find this hilarious!  Does that make me a bad person???  Do you think he'll end up needing doggy therapy?  Since little, lovable Charlie is the equivalent of a furry, male Dory from "Finding Nemo", I don't think he even realized he is being laughed at.  All he sees, all he hears, all he lives for is the weasel.  Must catch the weasel, must catch the weasel!  In his extreme focus he fails to see the obstacles right in front of his eyes.

How many times have we been guilty of that very same thing?  I know, for me, the count is too many.  I get a plan in my head, I set a goal, I make a decision and while not listening closely to the Holy Spirit charge full steam ahead and end up crashing right into the wall.  I must remember the safest place to be is along side, not in front of, Him.  He will never lead me into a wall.  I am convinced this tendency alone is a large reason why so many times the Lord will not lay out the whole plan in advance, but reveals it one step at a time as we walk close to Him.  If the path was highlighted in front of us there would be a great temptation to say "thanks, Lord! see ya on the other side" and go tearing off unmindful of the twists and turns in the path ahead.  I once saw a horse go running down a wooded path too quickly for his rider to control him.  When he approached an intersection he had no clue what to do and was going too quickly to receive the guidance the rider was so desperately trying to give him.  He ended up in the bushes.  He was on the right path, but he was going too fast to listen closely to his leader.  When we go racing ahead of the Lord, even if it's down the correct path, we will not be able to receive guidance on the turns and could very well end up on the bushes, or with out noses smashed against an unmoving wall.  It's easy to get excited about what the Lord is doing in our lives and in the lives of those around us, but we must not, in our zeal, go running off ahead of him. Because in our excitement we could very easily be having a dinner of paint and plaster or picking weeds and leaves our of our teeth.  The word has something to say about this subject too. In Isa 30:21 of the message Bible we read:

Your teacher will be right there, local and on the job, urging you on whenever you wander left or right: "This is the right road. Walk down this road."

If our weasel becomes our focus and not the Lord we won't be close enough to hear his voice and that is a recipe for disaster.  So I urge you today to stay close, listen up, don't run on ahead, you'll only get yourself into trouble.  You'll have less need of the AAA of the Holy Spirit to come pull you out of the ditch and put you back on the road again.  (good thing our spiritual insurance rates never go up! but that's another post entirely! lol) 

My goal today is to slow down a little, stay a little closer, and listen a little more intently.  I've spent way too much time in my life climbing out of ditches, bushes and brambles.  It's time to keep it between the white lines, keep hands and arms inside the car at all times, follow all speed limits and arrive alive!  Meanwhile, Charlie and I will be here.  I'll be on the couch throwing a stuffed weasel as I hold an ice pack to my nose.  He'll be the fur ball running after the furry little toy and.....  well, you can guess how his story ends.  Any one have the number for a good doggy plastic surgeon?  I think my puppy may need a nose job!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

How I was blinded by vanilla creamer

Yesterday seemed like a normal day upon it's dawning.  There were no tell tale signs it was anything other than your average Monday.  No shadowy forebodings lingered upon our rising, the sun didn't turn to black and the moon to blood.  Nothing fell from the sky and there was plenty of hot water.  How could we have known what this day would hold? How could we have had any idea it would go down in history as, would forever be known as, THE FRUITY COFFEE INCIDENT OF 2011.  (da da da dum!)

Maybe I should back up here just a little and give you a little history.  J loves his coffee.  He's not your ordinary coffee drinker.  He doesn't just go to the grocery store and buy a pound or two of coffee. No sir-ree Bob!  We have to order our coffee on line.  It comes from places like Yugoslavia or South Africa, or Venezuela or a bunch of other places I can't even pronounce, much less spell.  It all tastes the same to me, tastes like coffee.  Of course the fact that I like my coffee with as much vanilla creamer as coffee may have something to do with that.  It's just coffee.  It's sweet, it's yummy and it helps me wake up in the morning.  How can you go wrong with that?  That's right!  You can't!   J shakes his head at my immature coffee palate.  If I forget to rinse my spoon after stirring my creamer laden cup before stirring his coffee he can tell!  If I make flavored coffee the day before, despite my washing everything thoroughly, he can tell the next morning by the flavor of his coffee!  I have to say, sometimes, it makes me nuts! lol

On the day in question, however, I thought J was the one who had finally jumped the coffee bean, slow boat to java land.  I got up, made his breakfast and made our coffee just like I do every morning. (yeah, I thought I'd throw that in there just to make myself look good! lol)   J came down, took a sip of coffee and got the strangest look on his face.  "This coffee tastes fruity" he said.  Since mine tasted just like it always did (like vanilla creamer) I had no idea what he was talking about.  He insisted I taste his (shudder! no creamer, only sugar!) to see what he meant.  I really couldn't taste anything fruity, although by this time, he was looking a little fruity, if you know what I mean!  So he poured out that cup and made a fresh one with the same results.  By this time he was frustrated and running out of time so that was the end of that, or so I thought.  Several times that day J called me to complain about his coffee.  It seems the to-go cup and the thermos I fixed for him contained the same fruity coffee.  I really didn't know what to make of any of this.  I was sure it was all in his head as I surely didn't taste anything amiss.  I was getting tired of hearing about the fruity coffee and the many theories concerning it's origin.  By the time J got home from work I was so over it!  I made us a pot of coffee and, you guessed it!  He claimed, once again, it was fruity.  I yelled at suggested to him that he make his own cup of coffee this time.  He took the spoon, still wet from being rinsed off and stuck it in the sugar bowl.  When he started shouting I thought he'd found a gold nugget.  I looked at the spoon he was holding up to see a pink substance on it.  It seems the "sugar" had turned pink when it became wet.  Surfer Dude just happened to be standing there in the kitchen when this happened and I asked him if he knew anything about the "pink sugar".  He was trying really hard not to laugh when he informed us that the day before, while making kool-aid a bunch of it had spilled out into the sugar bowl.  He claims he tried to get all of it out of the sugar, but, obviously had missed some.  Obviously! lol

So in the end, J was vindicated about his fruity coffee.  He was not, in fact, two coffee beans short of a full pot.  His coffee was actually fruity.  After I stopped laughing I started thinking. (funny how that happens sometimes)  Why didn't I taste the fruity? Why did it appear to me that my coffee was the same as it had always been?  The thing is, I had never bothered to develop a discerning taste for coffee. It's simply the method by which I receive my morning vanilla flavored caffeine fix.  J, on the other hand, had taken time to savor his coffee, to distinguish the subtle nuances of flavor between the different blends, roasts and varieties.  I am so ok with that.  Just give me my vanilla caffeine and no one gets hurt.  Then I thought of something else.  (so much thinking in one day! where's the tylenol?) I began to wonder what else in my life have I covered with sweet creamer and so disguised the taste that I can't tell when something's not right?  The father of lies, our enemy, is very accomplished at sugar coating things for us.  He tells us "it's okay to hang on to that hurt a little while longer. That person meant to hurt you and by you holding on to that hurt maybe he'll see what he's done and change his ways".  You might hear him say something like "it's okay to be rude behind the wheel on Sunday morning, you don't have to really stop at that stop sign, after all, you can't be late to church. You have to teach Sunday School!"  The pureness of the voice of the Holy Spirit's conviction can be so covered with sickly sweetness we no longer hear it loud and clear as it urges us onto the straight and narrow path.  The problem is, we like the sweetness. Just think of Mary Poppins!  "A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down!"  To our human reasoning these little "sugar drop lies" sound right, they sound good.  But the word has something to say about our human reasoning.  Proverbs 14:12-13 tells us,

^12-13 There's a way of life that looks harmless enough;
   look again—it leads straight to hell.
Sure, those people appear to be having a good time,
   but all that laughter will end in heartbreak. (Message Bible)

I don't know about you, but, suddenly, I'm not too sure I want to be following the ways that look good to me.  I want to live so close to the Lord and know His voice so intimately that I can tell when there is the tiniest thing wrong.  I want to learn the subtle nuances of his voice so perfectly that there is no doubt when he is trying to tell me something.  I want to develop my spiritual ear in the same way J has developed his coffee palate.  If one grain of "fruitiness" drops in I want to know it!  My mind told me there was nothing fruity about that coffee, but J's strongly developed sense of taste detected even the slightest hint of it.  I'm asking God to develop my ability to sense when something is just a little "fruity", when something is just a little bit off so I can tune even more sharply into  what He is saying about any given situation.  That is my goal, to learn to listen to His voice and not to my own reasoning.

We have all recovered here and found our "new normal" in this post fruity coffee household, though we have taken corrective measures to try to prevent such a disaster from occurring again. Surfer Dude is no longer allowed to make kool-aid,  the sugar bowl has a new lid, and I'm thinking of enacting the biblical method of making coffee.  That's where J always makes it.  What?  You didn't know that was biblical?  Sure!  The word says it's "He-brews" not she-brews!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor

Itimidating Cats and the Dogs Who Love Them

I love my kids. I love my kids and my husband and my pets.  In fact, I love just about all animals, except raccoons and bugs, but bugs don't really count as animals.  Anyway, yesterday I was taking Mumbles to the dentist (who knew 3 root canals would cost so much? 3!).  There is a place in the road where there's a sharp turn as it goes up a little hill with train tracks on top of the little hill.  Confused yet?  Well, as we were approaching the little hill we saw a HUGE turtle.  This was no average sized turtle.  That boy could have made enough soup to feed a small city!  He was smack in the middle of the lane next to us.  Mumbles wanted to stop and take the reptile home, but since it was a snapping turtle I vetoed that idea pretty darn quick.  Little did Mr Turtle know, but a big work truck was coming from the other direction. Because of where he was sitting on the side of the hill the truck (or the guy driving it! lol) couldn't see our hard shelled friend.  I motioned for him to stop and Mumbles climbed out of the car again and moved Snappy to the side of the road where he was safe.  All was right with the word and the land was once again made safe for adventurous turtles everywhere! 

I have to admit, I get a kick out of watching my animals, even my four legged ones! (or as in the case of Leggo, my three legged animals, but that's a story for a different time! )  Take little Charlie for instance.  He's just turned a year old and he's the cutest little black and white dust mop you've ever seen.  He has springs in his legs, loves wearing a sweater and will do just about anything to get at a bacon treat.  What you see is what you get.  He's just Charlie.  I imagine, if he could talk, he would sound a little like a male version of Dory in the Finding Nemo movie, only housebroke.  He has no filter.  If he's happy, you know it, if he's sad, you know it.  When you come home and open the kennel his joy is overwhelming as he throws himself at you with complete abandon.  I can only laugh at his antics.

Then there is Yum Yum. 

Yum Yum is a gianormous Siamese cat we've had for years.  I think he's going on 9 years old now and he is beautiful.  He lives upstairs in Surfer Boy's room.  He has, for the most part become his cat.  You see, Surfer Boy's bed is positioned right by the widow for optimum sunlight exposure and this cat is no dummy.  He knows a good thing when he sees it.  Charlie isn't allowed upstairs, no little kids are allowed in Surfer Boy's room and he has a large expanse of bed which is never made up and is bathed in sunlight most of the day.  All in all, it's pretty much cat heaven.  The thing about Yummy is,  he's a great big softie on the inside but he doesn't want you to know it.  If we've been gone for a couple of days leaving him here without us he doesn't run to the door to greet us upon our arrival home, but he will sit at the top of the stairs and survey the scene as we come in.  When I go then, to pet him,  he gets this "oh good grief! if you must!" attitude, but then snuggles down into my arms and starts to purr.  Unlike Charlie, you can't take him at face value.  I know this about him, but Charlie, it seems does not. 

Yum Yum can make the most hideous noises you can imagine. (It's the Siamese in him)  Charlie is fascinated with him and yet scared of him at the same time.  Earlier this morning the cat decided to bless me with his presence down in the kitchen for a while. (I refuse to think it has anything to do with the fact his food bowl is down here)  He was sitting majestically starring out the widow in that cross-eyed way of his and Charlie caught sight of him.  He was immediately drawn to where Yummy sat but did it in that way we've all seen dogs do, where they want to go somewhere but are scared to so they get really low to the ground, stretch their bodies our and their legs shake.  It's always good for a giggle or two.  Anyway, Yum Yum started making these horrible sounds deep in his chest, almost like he was growling at Charlie.  Then he hissed and I thought I would have a mess to clean up on the floor.  Then, finding no traction on the hardwood floors, Charlie made a cartoon spectacle of himself trying to get away, fur flying!  Yum Yum then calmly walked up the stairs, ignoring Charlie the whole way. 

This is the thing. Charlie was never in any danger.  Yum Yum has no claws!  Even if he had claws he wouldn't know what to do with that dog if I served him up on a silver platter.  He is all talk, or yowl as the case may be.  Because Charlie doesn't know this (I've tried explaining it to him, but we have a bit of a language barrier) he assumes he is about the be eaten alive.  I guess you could say Yum Yum goes about roaring as a lion seeking whom he can devour.  (see where I'm going with this???)  The only power that cat has over my little dog is what the fur ball gives him.  Yummy's power lies in his ability to cause fear to rise up in Charlie.  If he could get over his fear the cat would be powerless. Actually, you could say the cat is already powerless, it's the fear within Charlie that holds the power.  Lose the fear, lose it's power. 

How many times have we heard the enemy roar like a lion in our life and cowered in fear? For me, the answer would be too many times to count.  As sons and daughters of the living God, satan has no power over us, except what we give him.  It is my fear of what he can/may do to me or in my life, that has kept me imprisoned not even looking for a way out.  I am in no danger from him. He can only touch my life if my God allows it. So why do I fear?  My fear hands the devil the power over me.  The word says in 1 John 4:18

¹⁸ There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

The presence of God's love "displaces" fear.   If I allowed God's love to rule in my heart, trust will abide there as well.  The two go hand in hand.  If I am trusting God why should I fear anything?  I am asking the Lord to change my default button from one of fear to one of trust in Him.  I'm tired of always having fear be my first response to anything.  I also will strive to remember one more thing.  Remember the verse that says "Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." (1Peter 5:8)? What most people don't realize is lions don't roar when they are getting ready to kill or when they are hunting at all.  It's only when they want to be intimidating.  Our enemy wanders around roaring like a lion, but like a lion, can only intimidate, not touch, those who are under the blood of Christ.  Remember that the next time fear grips your heart and you want to run and hide.  Hide yourself in the Lord for He loves you!

In the meantime I'll be here sweeping up fur balls, emptying litter boxes, getting the leash out for our walk, feeding, watering, brushing....  After I'm done with my kids, I'll start on the animals!

Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor