Lessons from the birds

My prayer life has been suffering. 

The truth is, I have my priorities all out of order.  I make sure to get my son to his activities and appointments, keep the fridge stocked, the car running and the house operational (mostly).  I try to read a morning devotional, but then the phone rings or the dog gets into something or......and then the day is over.

It took one little grey bird to point out my error.

I recently put a bird feeder outside my office window.   Originally, I set it up so that I had to sit at my desk in order to enjoy the activity. Maybe I would be more successful tackling all of my paperwork.  My project board listed goals and steps to accomplish.  My calendar included dates.  The CD player had my favorite station set.  I had even placed my devotional book and bible within elbow's reach. 

This morning, the family of birds returned to perch and eat.  That's when I noticed her.  A rather small grey and white bird periodically stopped eating and cocked her head several times, as if to listen.  It's a common behavior, but today, it had a special meaning. After she flew.  I wondered.

Was her turn of the head an instinct or a habit?  Did she hear anything before leaving?  Am I like her?  Do I even listen for God's guidance in Scripture or worship?  Or, have I made myself too busy?

I picked up my devotional journal, Jesus Calling, written by Sarah Young.  Here's what it said for today: "When you approach me in stillness in trust, you are strengthened.  You need a buffer zone of silence around you in order to focus on things that are unseen."

I need to be more like that bird:  feeding on His word and waiting for His guidance every day.   

Five Loaves

Did you ever read the story about Jesus feeding five thousand?  I believe that many people in Atlanta did.  In Matthew 14: 13-21, Jesus performed a miracle as He used five loaves and a couple of fish to feed thousands. 

Our area just experienced a severe winter storm-leaving many drivers stranded.  Stories are coming in now about how people walked miles out to the cars and delivered food and water.  Some offered their stores, churches and even homes as a shelter. 

I bet there were few millionaires among our heroes.   As a matter of fact, whole thing happened near the end of the month. For hourly employees, payday wasn't until Friday (and this week's check might be low).  For everyone, January is usually marked by cutting back after a generous Christmas.  I bet that most of the people who reached out were just ordinary folks, trying to get by.  Somehow, though, they gave their best. 

As we thank God for our safety and comfort, let us lift our prayers for those who served so selflessly.  May God meet their needs.  And may He lead us to help them.

Warts and All

My teenager informed me that I looked like an Eskimo.  That would be fine if we didn't live smack dab in the heart of humidity.  The Atlanta area is beautiful, but today's weather dictates short sleeves and sandals. 

Nevertheless, I am covered.  My legs showcase a road map of veins.  When my son was five, he asked me about these long, violet vessels, "Mom, how did you draw all of those lines?" So, long pants have become a standard.

When I turned 50, my arms started their own art show.  Penny-sized, crescent-shaped, rose-colored bumps appeared on my hands and arms.  A quick trip to a dermatologist relieved some fears that I was contagious (or even worse yet-that skin cancer was developing).  Benign, I tried to make peace with my body's attempt to turn me into a dalmation.  The prognosis was positive.  Most people who develop this skin condition, officially called Granuloma Annulare, report that the spots fade after about two years.

Three years later, I am still trying to use creams to subdue my spots.  I've even found a special make up that will mask my arms.  I teach in the Science lab at our elementary school.  Sometimes, I feel very self-conscious and give in.  It's long sleeves and band-aids.

As soon as I'm back among family and friends,  the make-up comes off and long sleeves are exchanged for short ones.  It's a relief to forget about my skin and what people think. 

I never have to worry about God's reaction to my body's flaws.  He loves me warts (spots) and all.

In the Dark

Isn't this the way that I came?  Steady beats and swishes by my wipers kept me company while I strained to find road signs that would reassure me.

I had lost my bearings and was two hours away from home.

 I'll go five more miles.  If I don't see anything familiar, I'll turn around.

Ten miles later and no safe place to pull over, I felt for my phone.   The  charger had not been working.  Without the phone, I couldn't use any of the car's SYNC system to guide me.  I had only had the car since last Spring and was still learning about it's features.

The tone sounded.  My phone had power. Whew!  I pushed the button to activate the GPS.  The automated voice asked for my destination. On a whim, I replied, "Operator." 

Someone answered!

Suprised, I told him that I was lost.  "No problem.  I'll locate you and send you turn by turn directions to guide you home."

My shoulders relaxed.  My grip on the steering wheel did, too. 

As I drove, I reflected.  How often do I just go ahead and do my own thing, only to find out that I have lost my way?  Would I find more peace if I made a more deliberate attempt each day to stay in tune with God's voice?

 If my life is like a quilt, I found another seam to redo.  I'll grab my seam ripper and straighten things out again.  I can do this so much easier when I'm wrapped in  a community of believers, rich in love and rooted in Scripture.  Well, I've got to go.  It's time for church.






  

Sunday Seam Rippers

Tempted to hit the snooze button again, I rolled over.  Whoosh! The covers off, I rushed to get a shower.  I didn't want to miss church-affectionately coined "Sunday Seam Rippers."

As a novice quilter, I use one of these to take seams out when I have discovered a crooked seam between patches.  In the past, I tried to ignore my mistakes and hoped that no one would notice. But now, my quilts, whether hung around my house, given as gifts or to charity, are seen.  So, some days are spent with a generous amount of ripping. This simple little tool pulls the thread that binds two pieces together.  Then, and only then, can I straighten things out and start over.




It's Advent.  I have always associated this time with Christmas card writing, tree trimming, prayer, advent wreaths and gift getting.   Last Sunday, I watched a video clip of a segment by a group called Busted Halo.  It's called, "Advent in 2 minutes."  I stand corrected.

Check it out. http://bustedhalo.com/video/advent-in-two-minutes

It was the bottom on the last inning and the home team came up to bat.  Our team was in the lead by nine runs.  The outfield looked relaxed.  Maybe even a little cocky. There was a pitch and a hit.  Yikes.  The ball flew past shortstop and there was a scramble.

Hmm. 

Yesterday was a little like that game.  I started the day and felt confident that we would have a great day in school.  Piece of cake.

Ten minutes after the bell, "Ms. Hetzel, She stole my crayon!"

Before you begin to worry, yes, justice was restored.  The crayon was returned.  The girls embraced.  All was well.

For a moment.

God constantly reminds me that I need to stand ready.  The game is not over until it's over.

So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.    (Mat 24:44 NIV)

That's What It's All About

I have been running from one appointment to another, racing through my "to-do" list, only to feel frustrated and defeated.  Yuck.   Overbooking myself physically and mentally is not getting me anywhere. 

It took two middle schoolers to bump me back into reality again.  It started as one weekend Science project involving atoms and molecules.  Well, actually, there were two projects since they didn't finish the lab about making ice cream.  And the first one looked so simple.  They were "done" within 30 minutes.  Against their pleas to do otherwise, I looked at the rubric (list of required features)  and proceeded to tell them that they had only scratched the surface. 

It's twelve hours later and they are almost done.  Well, kind of.  And no, before you are alarmed, they did not work twelve consecutive hours.  On the contrary, they have given me an example of how I should plan my days: brief periods of work, alternated by play.

Of course, we needed supplies. So our time on this project has included a trip to the grocery store, supper at a local Chinese restaurant (because "Mom, we can't think if we're hungry!"), countless episodes of rolling eyes,  debates (what constitutes good enough versus completing the assignments), spills, races with our dachshund (affectionately named Dipstick),  research on the computer, lots of laughs, candy, writing, rock salt, duct tape, more spills, sleeping in, playing on the piano, more writing, many heavy sighs, and a few more pieces of duct tape just to be sure.

So, I learned something this weekend, too.  I need to mix in a little more playtime.  Maybe I would find myself smiling more and rejoicing in the Lord.  After all, that is what it's all about.