Just be thankful you're not in a prison camp...

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Hi All ~ Long time no blogging I know!  My life has been consumed with elections and Christmas program preparation.  But now the election is over I'm hoping to get back into some semblance of a routine!  Hope you enjoy this Thanksgiving thought below!

Just months before my 16^th birthday my family moved from Minnesota to Florida.  If you’re imagining us packing up all of our belongings, having a few good-bye parties, loading up a moving truck and heading South to the white sandy beaches of the Atlantic, that’s not exactly how it went.

 My mom and dad decided that we would load up one of our cars with only the bare necessities.  My three older siblings were grown and already out on their own which meant my mom would take my youngest brother Rodney and me on down ahead of my dad so we could start school.  The three of us would move in with my Aunt and Uncle in their 3-bedroom 2-bath home along with four of their five children; making a total of nine humans and one large Doberman all living in 1250 sq. feet.  My dad would stay behind till he could sell the house and the business; then join us as soon as possible.  I know.  What were they thinking, right?

Actually, the experience of bunking up with the cousins is a memory of a lifetime.  I enjoyed the closeness…most of the time.  The morning routine proved the roughest interval to maintain an acceptable level of sanity.  With only two bathrooms and seven people all needing to be ready at the same time you can imagine the bedlam. 

One of those mornings the chaos grew especially hectic.  My aunt, trying to herd the six of us into her five-passenger car with all of our backpacks and gym bags, squeaked out in a panic, “Hurry up we’re going to be late…again!”

Invariably someone would holler, “I can’t find my shoes!  Has anyone seen my other shoe?  Stephen, did you take it?  Where is it?  Someone help me find it!” 

My cousin Stephen fired back, “Why would I take your shoe, you dork?”

Then another would shout, “Hurry up, I can’t have another tardy or I’ll get detention!  Why don’t you find your stuff the night before like the rest of us!  Ahh yuck! Who spilled the milk and didn’t clean it up?  I just stepped in it! Now I need a new pair of socks.  Mom, where are the clean socks?” 

She’d reply, “You don’t have time.  You’ll just have to wear those today. I said get in the car!” 

Grumble, grumble, grumble….

Then another, “Mom, where is that paper I asked you to sign?  I gotta have it today.” Each voice managed to crank up the volume level overriding the last speaker, ensuring they were heard in this simultaneous and confusing conversation.

I happened to be the only girl in the bunch and unfortunately I have an overactive sense of responsibility.  So naturally, any disaster the boys may be having, I felt it my duty to rescue as much as feasible. I’d wipe up the milk, hunt for the shoe, unless I also needed to secretly hunt for my own.  Barely 7:30 in the morning and all of us were already exhausted. 

The insecurities of being a sophomore in a new high school and trying to make my way only added to the weariness.  Everything required an effort.  Where do I sit for lunch?  Does that cute guy really keep watching me or is he staring at my flatter- than- a- pancake, humidity-suffering hairdo wondering, “Why doesn’t that girl do something with that straw looking stuff on top of her head”?  There is a reason there is only one letter difference between humidity and humility.  What hall do I take to get to my 3^rd  period class?  I am going to try to call everyone I know by name today… if I can remember them…  I didn’t regret this new adventure.  I knew God had planned it.  Sometimes it just overwhelmed me.  Today happened to fall into the “What in the Sam Hill were my parent’s thinking?” category.

By the time the sardine can of an automobile had been packed with book bags, football pads for after school practice, a trumpet for marching band, my cheerleading bag and oh, yeah, five students and one school secretary, the sour mood sloshing around in the car would have intoxicated even the strongest Positive Pearls in the world.

I confess.  My attitude stunk.  I was tired of it; everyone out for themselves.  Not enough room in the car.  Not enough time in the bathroom.  Barely enough food in the cupboard and no one ever seemed to help with the dishes.  And now I’m going to have to walk in late to my new school… yet again!  Everyone will be staring at me.  My hair and this Florida humidity make me want to slink by the edges of the hallway, not parade across the room to the empty seat up front next to that guy.  Or should I pick the other seat next to the other guy?  Ugh.

About the time I’d decided to pull out the knife and slit my wrist in peace, my Aunt slammed on the brakes- as to not run the stop sign and eject us into the oncoming traffic whizzing past us.  As all six of us whiplashed back to our seats from the sudden thrust she threw these words over her shoulder, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp!”

You might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.  Her statement stunned me. And then it just plain irritated me.  How dare she say this wasn’t a stressful and ridiculous way to live? 

I repeated the phrase in my mind, mainly out of disgust and shock at her audacity.  (Which for my aunt appeared quite audacious since she had the patience of Job and rarely stood up for herself or told anyone off.) But as I repeated the quote, somewhere mid-sentence I visualized the reality of her words, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp.”  I had read The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boon.  I vividly recalled the horror of those camps. Before I knew it, the statement settled into my heart and suddenly I saw with new eyes.

Yes!  Thank God I didn’t have to be in a prison camp today!  These obtrusive gym bags piled on top of me, wrinkling my clothes, are a sign that I get to be part of a fun school with lots of extras.  Running late meant we wouldn’t be required to wait outside for the doors to open, allowing the humidity more time to work it’s magic. Tonight I’m going home to a safe place with choices of where to go and what to eat. I’m surrounded by people who, although they stress me out once in a while, also make me laugh until I wet my pants; people who love me and want what is best for me.  I’m not afraid of them. In fact, they are some of my favorite people in the whole wide world!  Yes, thank you God, I’m not in a prison camp.

Lessons from the dog dish

Thirsty?  Lessons from the dog dish.

     I adore him…most days.  While there did exist a day I would have sold him for free, not any more.  He has wagged his way right into my heart and become the fourth member of our family. His name is Herschel Walker. He stands about 3 feet tall, weighs 104 pounds and is covered in chocolate brown hair. Best of all, I think he really loves me. And I must say the feeling is mutual.

     My dog is a living object lesson of God’s love for me. Herschel is just a dog…I didn’t create him or give birth to him, yet I would do most anything to protect him and make him happy.  We’ve never actually spoken to each other (Aren’t you glad to hear me say that… You were beginning to wonder weren’t you!) yet we communicate constantly.  I’m so familiar with his idiosyncrasies that most of the time I know exactly what he wants or needs.  He has a gentle way of hinting.  For example, if he’s thirsty he very sweetly (Ever watched a dog walk sweetly? Quite the site!) walks over to his dish and sticks his nose in it. He’ll usually throw in a wag or two and glance up at me kind of bashful like, as if to say, “Boy, I sure wish there was some water in my dish.”   

     It doesn’t matter how busy I am, I can’t resist his gentle nudge at the bowl.  He realizes I’m the source who can fill the request and he’s asking for help. Here’s the crazy part. I absolutely delight in supplying his need! I love pouring that cool water in his bowl and seeing his tail wag as he laps the stream before it even hits the bottom of the dish. At that point, if a dog can wear contentment he’s clothed from head to paw.  You can almost see how grateful he is and it pleases me to no end. 

     It never fails.  Each time it happens I’m reminded of a truth that warms my heart no matter how chilly it is outside.  If I delight that much in providing my dog’s need, how much more does my Heavenly Father, who created me and sent His son to be my ransom, love when I call out to Him for my supply!

     Many days I’m tempted to believe that the Father has lost track of me in this great, big, wide world.  Some days I get the sense that my requests are old hat and boring to Him or perhaps he gets weary of my constant dependency. None of which are true!  My affection for my dog reminds me that my Father loves me.  My Father is committed to providing and protecting me.  And best of all… He delights to do so!   And so He does for you my friend. 

     Are you thirsty?  Go ahead. Nudge that water dish and see if your Heavenly Father won’t fill it for you :) …And don’t forget to wag your tail when that stream comes flowing down!

Psalm 18:19 “…he delivered me because he delighted in me”

Hope & Glory! to you my friend ~

Rebecca

Homeless or Angel

Hi Everyone ~ 

  Have you ever entertained an angel unaware?   I know what you're probably thinking, "Well, Rebecca, that's a silly question.  How would I know? Doesn't the Bible say we minister to them "unaware"?  Hebrews 13 starts out, " Let brotherly love continue.  Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." O.K. yeah, good point...  How 'bout this: Do you ever THINK you've entertained an angel? 

     I think Ronnie and I tried to minister to one recently!  This may not seem like a big deal to you, but I am almost convinced God sent an angel across our path, perhaps even my guardian angel. By the time you hear the end of the story you'll see how God used our effort to supply my need :) Angel or not... God is really, really cool!

     So...on with the story. Late one afternoon Ronnie and I headed to a friend’s wedding in Orlando.  We were both starving.  I hadn't eaten much all day.  For one, I had been too busy, but mainly I hadn't eaten much because we were supposed to meet a good friend in Orlando that night at the Dessert Lady!  (O.K....ever heard of that place?  Me neither, but supposedly her desserts are to die for! )  We pulled off onto an exit headed for a Chic-fil-A to get dinner before we met our friend.  As we exited down the off ramp, a light rain began to fall and I noticed a man standing at the bottom of the hill at the red light. He instantly caught my attention and I said, "Ah... if I had an umbrella in here, I'd throw it out there to him."  

     It so happened that our place at the red light landed the man right outside Ronnie's window, close enough for him to make eye contact with us.  Sure enough, he stood holding a cardboard sign with black marker writing.  Actually, I don't even know what the sign read.  I just noticed the word, "homeless".  As we waited for the light to change the man made awkward continual eye contact with us, throwing these passive-aggressive, pleading looks our way. 

     The man became the topic of discussion during the ever-enduring red light.  Ronnie noticed right away that his clean-shaven, manicured go-tee and rather clean - albeit- wet clothes showed that the man didn't appear to be too homeless.  We wondered if he was indeed homeless and questioned if he would take anything other than money if we offered it to him.  All the while, the middle-aged, greying man cast occasional, yet purposed eye contact, starring straight at us and ignoring the other cars in line.  Relief swept over me as the light finally turned green. Just as we pulled off, I caught one last disgusted glare from the man that seemed to say said, "You people with your cars and homes are all alike..." 

   I can't speak for Ronnie, but I have never given anything to people holding signs on the side of the road, especially ones who give disgusted looks to those they are asking to help them. It's not because I don't want to help.  I do, if they really need it.  I've actual experienced a sort of homeless before and I understand desperate.  My heart goes out to people in need. It's just that I don't know if I should believe them or not.  And I've always heard you shouldn't give them money.  Because of all that, the thought to help this guy never seriously entered my mind.  But as we pulled away Ronnie said, "We could buy him a sandwich if you want."  Immediately, my heart quickened.  I'd love to do that and felt very impressed that God would have us do it. I piped up, "Yes, lets do it."

     We bought the sandwich and backtracked to the exit. Ronnie pulled off to the side of the road to deliver our hot meal to the clean-shaven man standing in the rain.  But the man was gone.  I mean gone... like he had vanished.  It hadn't taken us long to get the food.  We couldn't imagine where he could have slipped away so quickly.  We rode over to the gas station and Ronnie jumped out to see if he had dashed in there for cover from the rain.  He was no where to be found...

     I remember thinking, as we finally gave up the search for the man, the impression to buy this sandwich was so strong and the whole experience so odd, I knew God meant it for someone. Obviously the roadside stranger wouldn't be the recipient, but in my heart I figured God had something up His sleeve.  My curiosity grew in anticipation as to what God had planned.

    We finally made it to our hotel and longer story short...our plans fell through to meet our friend. The only problem being that I still hadn't eaten enough at supper.  I had rationed out my food intake, saving for the Dessert Lady and now we weren't going... 

    My sinking energy level from the stress of the week and bad meals had begun taking its toll. Like the straw that broke the camel's back, I was wiped out and didn't know how to snap out of it. This may seem really silly to you, but at the end of the day, I was the one who ate the sandwich...the glorious, 2 hour old, cold, Chick-fil-A sandwich!  I gobbled it up like a homeless person who hadn't eaten for days. Here's the kicker... I don't even like Chick-Fil-A, but at that moment it tasted like The Loop to me!  The sandwich hit the spot like a weird magic potion that brought life back into my soul.  

    I can't prove it, but I believe the stranger on the side of the road may have been an angel sent by God to help his weary daughter.  No, I hadn't experienced a life or death situation, but I needed the encouragement of knowing I have a God who sees right where I am.  The fact that He loves and cares enough to make provision for my future needs warmed my heart and ensured me I'm safe in His care :)  

     He feels the same about you!  He cares enough to assign an angel specifically to you.  And even better than that, He sent His Holy Spirit to be your constant Companion and Guide.  May you know His comfort today.  May your heart be set at rest knowing He is with you.  He sees you.  He is, as we speak, providing for what you will need in the moments and days ahead :) 

Hope & Glory! To You ~ Love

Rebecca 

Fight Like a Girl

Hi All ~ Ever feel like giving up?  Read on...please!

     The dry crusty earth beneath my cleated shoes begs for relief.  And the earth is not the only one longing for a respite. All of those around me are affected by intensity of the day. The scorching sun rests itself directly above us for what feels like hours raining down heat rays intense enough to boil water. My metal shield soaks up the sun like a horse shoe in the furnace. But I don’t dare let go.  That trusty shield is my only recourse against the Enemy’s fiery darts whizzing past me in every direction.

     I hate to say it but some of the darts originate from behind and to the sides of me where fellow comrades stand.  It sounds odd. In such an intense and fierce battle you expect to ward off darts from the Enemy in front of you, not from behind... from your own. But it happens. Those blows prove the most fatal, causing the victim to drop her shield and gasp in disbelief at the wound.  She drops to her knees in agony not only from the arrow’s penetration, but also from the piercing sting to her heart. Looking around in confusion and disbelief, her head drops as she realizes that this gash came from within the camp. 

      Regardless of where or how a soldier is hit by the fiery dart, the first tendency is naturally to drop the shield. Then you are open game. Vulnerable. Susceptible to the whim and whimsy of the evil schemes. Exactly what the Enemy is banking on. Unfortunately, the Adversary (big shock)…doesn’t play fair. The minute a shield lowers, the arrows seem to come like a magnet toward the wounded.

      I know. It’s happened to me.  If it hadn’t been for members of my squadron coming to my aid, who knows what would have happened to me!  I guess that explains my passion, not only to fight the fight, but to look out for the fellow soldiers around me.

     The battle’s intensity has escalated in recent days. Lately, I look around at those I love; those faithful to the cause; those determined to endure to the end. Many are being hit.  Hit from all directions. All I know to do is hold tight to my shield as I run to their aid. I slam the shields upright in the dirt to form a tiny garrison as I assess the damage.  I wipe the tear and offer a drink from my canteen. Then I do my best to stabilize the wound.  And the cool thing… All around me others loyal to the cause are shouting out warnings, “Soldier, duck!  Incoming!” Once they’ve spotted us they rush to our side and stand guard to protect us.  As more help comes, I grab my shield and run across the field to offer the same comfort to another, ever mindful of those who did the same for me.

     Sometimes I find a big rock to lean against and take a minute to hide behind my own shield, darts dashing in every direction. The tears bubble up from the pit at the pain of my friends. I am weary and overwhelmed…My water bottle is empty.  I’ve given all its contents away to those who needed it more. And then I ask myself, "Is this worth it?"  But the question doesn’t linger long.  My teeth grit, my lips press together, my fist bangs into the ground below me.  Through the mist I breathe these words of resolve to my Commander in Heaven, “By your grace I will not give up! I will not quit! The cargo is too precious, the price too costly.  I will pick up my sword of your word and my shield of faith. I will fight on!”

     About that time, my good buddy catches me huddled to the side.  She rushes to my aid, pulls her shield close to mine as she rests herself against the rock. Catching her breath she says, “Are you alright?  Here, I thought you might need a little of this.”  From her side she pulls out her own precious canteen and to my lips flow the ice cold drink my dry soul so desperately needs.

     And so it is in the battlefield of life…but I grit my teeth and press my lips together in steadfast determination.  I will look up.  I will not quit.  I will accept your help.  I will offer mine to you. Together we will fight the good fight!  We will endure hardness as the good soldiers of Jesus Christ! II Timothy 2:1-4

Hope & Glory! to You ~ Love 

Rebecca

P.S.  You know we win, right?!      

Got Questions?

Hello All ~

     I have more questions today than I have answers.  I’m positive you know what I’m talking about.  There are those days or weeks or even years when we just don’t know…  It’s important to decipher which questions are of God and which are of the Enemy.  They both ask them.  Just take a look at the very first story in scripture in Genesis 3 and you can see that.  But today is not about the questions…

     While I don’t have all the answers I’m thankful for the parts I do know.  For the last 3 months God has delivered the same message to me in various ways.  He keeps telling me, “Be strong.  Be very courageous.  Do it.  Be strong.”  I wish I had the space to share with you all the passages He has lead me to in the last several weeks that communicate these words.  I didn’t go looking for them!  They have come in my regular Bible reading or messages I’ve heard preached on the radio or at church.  It’s been wild.  Who knew those words appeared so many different places in scripture!

     I’m grateful for each encouragement, but I realize this verbiage is more than some happy little cheerleader type of positiveness. (I know that’s not really a word) These words are a command.  So I’ve dug my heels in and I’m trying… but I haven’t done so well.  In fact, I’ve been more stressed out and crazed than ever…hence some of the question… but once again today is not about the questions.  “So what is it about?” you ask. (See more questions!)  Follow me here…

     Recently, during a much-needed Sabbath rest, God showed me something amazing.  I’ve always loved and often quoted the verse, “For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth to show Himself strong on behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward Him…” from II Chronicles 16.  But until this week I never knew the verse’s context OR that the verse doesn’t end there. 

     This verse landed in the middle of a conversation a prophet had with a king who had loved God with all his heart and called upon him for help when he found his nation in trouble… until now.  King Asa enjoyed years of peace and quiet until the end of his reign when an enemy decided to attack.  So what did Asa do? (Stop with the questions)  He called on the King of Syria to help… Seemed logical enough, but logical and God don’t always jive. The prophet reminded Asa of the times when huge nations were headed for Judah’s jugular and God miraculously saved the day.  And how God’s eyes roam to and fro to show Himself strong…  In other words, He loves to step in and rescue when we cast ourselves on Him!

     The verse ends with, “but you have done foolishly…” Interpreted…You didn’t allow God to be strong on your behalf.  You tried to figure out how to be strong on your own…Click!  Light bulb! That is sounding a little familiar.

     Oh!  After all these years of watching God step in for me, of witnessing miraculous provision, of enjoying the freedom and relief of complete abandonment on Him, how could I have forgotten to ask Him for help? (May be the best question I’ve asked all day) And yet I had.  I realized during that Sabbath rest, that God, while commanding me to be strong, never intended for me to be strong on my own.  He desired to be my strength.  He delights in showing HIMSELF strong on my behalf if my heart will only be perfect toward Him.  So instead of trying to figure it out on my own I plan on seeking Him to be my strength from now on.

     …Well, I don’t have all the answers, but I think I have the answer I need most today. I believe I'll take God up on His offer :)

Hope & Glory to You my friend ~

Rebecca

The Ole Baby Powder Trick!

Psalm 51

Hi Ya Gang...

     This week has been a "mock speed, hair on fire" kind of week, if you know what I mean.  In fact, I've had to use the ole 'baby powder in the hair' trick on the days I haven't had time to wash my stringy locks.  My friend even asked me one day, "Rebecca, have you washed your hair yet?"  We joked that I'd be like the dusty guy on Charlie Brown and if anyone touched me or patted me on the back, a puff of powder would fly up all around me! 

     As far back as I can remember, I've always resisted washing my hair.  I hate the feeling of getting my head wet. As much as I hate dripping strands, I love clean ones more!  So, on days I requiring the powder trick, I always feel off kilter.  On the outside I look acceptable, I suppose.  In fact, a lot of times my hair does better on the powder days, but I know it's dirty so it's a constant distraction.  It's itchy and dull feeling. I'm self conscious that maybe everyone will know my hair is dirty or maybe it smells bad...  (Hence the question you may have heard me ask before: Would you rather look good and smell bad or look bad and smell good?  Anyway...I digress)  Truth is that powder trick will keep me socially acceptable for a short period of time, but eventually if I don't make time to wash my hair bad things begin to happen! ...not to mention how awful I feel on the inside.  

     I thought of that this morning as I cleaned up to face another day.  I thanked God continually for the privilege and relief of being clean and smelling fresh.  I remember an interview with a Jewish man released from a concentration camp.  He explained that one of the most debilitating, emotionally difficult parts of the whole prison camp experience centered around not being able to get clean... no soap or clean underwear or fresh clothes for months... Can you even imagine?  

     I don't think anyone would discredit the importance and positive psyche associated with a clean clothes and body.  But what about a clean soul?  Do you realize how much stress and discomfort comes into your life when you ignore your inside?  Unfortunately, I've wielded "baby powder tricks" for my soul and heart and conscious.  And you know, for a while it may appear to work...at least on the outside.  But eventually if I don't take time to deal with my heart, bad things begin to happen!  

     Just a gentle reminder today to you and to me... don't neglect your inside cleanliness any more than you would your outside.  It's important to God because He has abundant life He wants for you! He can't offer it to us if we refuse to deal with our hearts :)  And take it from me, once you take the time to meet with Him, it's worth every bit of pride and self you've had to sacrifice to make your heart right with Him!   Psalm 51:10 "Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a right spirit within me."

Hope & Glory! to You~ Love

Rebecca 

PS ~ I’d love to connect with you on Twitter @RebeccaFussell

Smells like cocky...

Smells like cocky…

Psalm 31

     You can spot them a mile away…Funny, while it’s obvious to everyone else, often the person of reference thinks no one knows.  I’ve been guilty.  I’m talking about the person who thinks they’re all that and a bag of chips.  Weird isn’t it how we can almost smell when someone is just a little too big for their britches?  I’m not sure what gives it away, but there is a certain air around those who believe they are God’s gift to mankind or to the workplace or to the neighborhood block party…I can't speak for anyone else, but like I said, I've stunk to high heaven with it myself.

     I’d like to think many of those days are behind me as I’ve matured and grown to understand more of my need for Christ as my daily life.  I do, however, recall with vivid memory the first time I realized how ridiculous I had been acting after thinking initially how cute and flirty I must be.  It’s embarrassing…

     I was in Jr. High.  My youth group gathered in someone’s home for something. I had a crush on someone whose name I don’t remember or even recollect what he looked like.  I do recall sitting on the couch convinced I must be making a darling impression on him when something clicked.  It was almost as if I could see myself apart from myself, like in a movie, and I realized how ridiculous I actually acted.

     I thank God for that memory…strange how certain things will stick out in your mind.  I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, but I recall that feeling from 30 years ago clear as a bell.  

      I say all that to say just be who you are.  Don’t worry about impressing anyone.  Dress with a desire to honor your King.  Treat others with respect and the humility of realizing when you look into their eyes they are a person created in the image of God.  Each person is someone of value.  Each person puts his or her clothes on the same way.  All must brush our teeth to have clean breath and all have uniqueness to be celebrated. 

     So instead of flitting around vying to make a good impression or slipping into the shadows in hopes of being lost in the crowd, take it as it comes.  Every person you come across is a person to look into the eye gate of their soul and hopefully share the love of Jesus with a warm smile and kind word. 

     I’m challenged and guided by the verses in Ps 31… I remember reading it the night I came home from that activity, embarrassed and needing a new plan of action!  “In Thee O Lord do I put my trust; let me never be ashamed…Into thine hand I commit my spirit…My times are in they hand…Make thy face to shine upon thy servant…Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man…Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart…”

Hope & Glory to you my friend,

Rebecca

Just Do the Next Thing

Psalm 103:14;  Deuteronomy 33:27

Hello All ~

     “Just do the next thing…”  That’s my mantra these days.  If I listed all the areas that lacked and needed my attention I’d just tie a cement bag on my leg and jump into the St. Johns.  Well, of course I wouldn’t really do that but I’d feel like it.   My present life whirls on two speeds: fast and faster.  The barrages of duties and deadlines have added a few wrinkles to my face and probably some gray hair to my head. (I’m not sure about the gray because I don’t actually know my true hair color thanks to Lindsay my hairdresser)

      I’ve experienced other times in my 45 years of life that have required this same mental focus, forcing my mind not to delve into the future, but concentrate on just dealing with the next task.  A season much different than the one I face now; a season of despair and wounds.  A season of “I don’t want to get out of bed today… or ever”.  After my first husband left, I couldn’t imagine life alone.  Within that same year my parents were in a deadly car wreck that took my dad home to Heaven and left my mother in the hospital for days causing her to loose her job.  Those days threatened to paralyze me.  It was all I could do to open my eyes in the morning.  But I thank God for the advice I read in one of Elizabeth Elliot’s books.  Don’t worry about next week or even this afternoon.  Can you just get up and let the dog out?  Yes.  Can you just walk into the bathroom and brush your teeth?  Yes. I think I can do that, but what about… Just do the next thing. Don’t worry about 30 minutes from now…just do the next thing…and then the next thing…

     I don’t have time to elaborate.  My sticky note reminders wallpapered around me are calling me to the next thing!  Here is what I’m witnessing first hand in this season.  My only responsibility is to be obedient to God’s leading one moment at a time.  I’m learning afresh I cannot be everyone’s savior.  I cannot accomplish it all by myself.  But the good news is, I am not meant to do that. Neither are you.  I am called to obey one moment at a time.

     May you be encouraged today.  Whether your heart is broken or wrapped in a suffocating to –do list; just do the next thing.  While I don’t necessarily enjoy this type of living it does have its advantages.  In an odd way it’s quite freeing because there is no way in Heaven’s name you can survive without Him.  God’s got this.  You just do the next thing…   

“He knows our frame.  He remembers that we are dust Ps. 103:14 …underneath are the everlasting arms.” Deuteronomy 33:27

Hope & Glory! to You ~

Rebecca

Redlights or Roadblocks...

     II Timothy 2:3

Hey Everyone~

     I’m not sure where I ever got the idea that life would be easy…I want to be strong, but I don’t want to have to lift the weight or push my comfort zone.  Obviously, it doesn’t work that way…obviously. The other day God gave me a picture of life, as simple as it sounds, that has helped me endure when I’ve wanted to give up. 

     Driving to an appointment recently, I managed to hit almost every green light.  In rare form I sailed through intersections without hindrance.  Traffic flowed at the perfect pace and all was well with the world!  I made the mistake of equating my driving ease with confirmation of God’s will for my life.  Crazy I know… I said, “God, this must be your will for my life!  You have blown open every door and made it simple for me today.”

     As soon as the words formulated in my thoughts it dawned on me the error of my assumption.  So began the dialogue with me, myself and I.  Me started if off with a chuckle, “Wait a minute Rebecca… Are you saying, if you hit a red light you’d just turn around and go home?” 

     I responded, “Well, no.  I hate red lights, but I know if I will just be patient eventually it will turn green and I’ll move forward towards my destination.”

     Myself added, “You do realize that if you did turn around every time you hit a red light you’d probably never get home anyway.  Chances are the other lights on the pathway home would not all be green and you’d be caught in no mans land, giving up and turning around each time you hit a light.” 

     Time for a new thought process…Just because I hit red lights along the path of life doesn’t mean it’s time to turn around and head back.  I need the discipline and focus to push through those times or I’ll never reach the destination God has prepared for me.  One huge point my husband Ronnie reminded me of as I relayed to him my newly discovered understanding is the fact that red lights often protect us from disaster.  My cousin Daniel chimed in by asking me to name one hero in history or the Bible that turned around or quit when the going got tough.  I couldn’t.  That’s because to achieve God’s plan for your life will require a sense of determination not to quit just because it gets uncomfortable. 

     Today, as I type, I am facing problems and situations I’d like to chunk into the pond. Anyone else?!  I’d rather just turn my life around to remove myself from the situation.  And at times God does place roadblocks in our life or lets us know the bridge is washed out and we must turn back.  But there is a huge difference between a red light and a roadblock.  I don’t want to turn around when the going gets tough or things don’t move as quickly as I’d like.  I want to do as Paul encouraged Timothy in II Timothy 2:3, “Thou therefore endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” 

      I can endure because He’s not sending me out on this journey of life solo!  He’s always with me and I rest in that fact.  So today, I’ll endure patiently through the red lights in my life.  I’ll push forward knowing that God’s got this!  He is with me and will get me to the place He wants me, right on time!

The Power of Touch

Hi All ~

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word,

a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring –
all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”  Leo Buscaglia

    I loved my teaching job at Parkview.  I couldn’t believe I actually received a paycheck to be there every day! One of the perks of my job entailed our Tuesday morning prayer meetings. The privilege of being with such incredible, Godly teachers always inspired and encouraged me. But on this particular Tuesday, my mind struggled being present in the room.  My body sat towards the back of the group just as I had done numerous times. The conversation, the announcements for the week and a few prayer request sounded more like the teacher on Charlie Brown than anything I recognized.  The fierce battle exploding in my heart and mind forced my undivided attention. What if God isn’t enough? I needed to know…  Suddenly, I began to shake.
     I didn’t notice it at first because my insides had been shaking for weeks.  I think periodically throughout the last several days there had been moments I began to shake outwardly, but I had always been able to regain my composure.   Today, however, I couldn’t control it. In recent days, I’d been forced to ask God and myself, “If everything were stripped away from me, would He truly be enough?”  The reality of that question scared me to death.  I’d been banking on the truth of His sufficiency my whole life. The test day had arrived and I didn’t know the answer.  
      At that moment every external thing I heard and saw clicked into slow motion. I started fading away into a world I could not reach and I believed could not reach me.  The foundational question about God being enough thundered through my thoughts like a storm.  The louder it shouted the more my uncertainty built.  My insides intensified like the winding of a Jack in box.  I dreaded the closing prayer. I had no idea how in Heaven’s name I’d be able to stand up, let alone walk down the hall to my class.
     As the group bowed their heads to pray, the shaking escalated becoming more visible and uncontrollable.  I felt any moment now, the strength to take the next breath would be gone and I would end up in a puddle on the ground.  Everyone would be so shocked and say, “Oh, my goodness, what’s wrong with Rebecca?” I had no idea what would happen next. I didn’t know what to do.  I wondered if this was how it felt to go crazy.
     Suddenly, in the midst of this intense battle, I felt a gentle hand on my back.  As if somehow this hand yanked me from the fight and lifted me above the warfare long enough to catch my breath and stop the arrows for just a moment. This touch propelled love and compassion through my veins, overriding the debilitating doubts and fears.  Strength and calm returned to my body.  I could breath again and almost instantly my shaking stopped! Someone had reached through the dark veil and pulled me back to the present.   I peeked to see whose hand had ministered the relief.  It was Jessica, our new student teacher.  She’d been sitting in the desk next to me. After prayer she looked over to me and asked, “Rebecca, are you alright?  You were shaking.”
     She just touched me.  No words. No solutions.  No magic potions. But her simple gesture overwhelmed my senses and stopped a torrent of fear from erupting.  Her powerful act created a calm, peacefully stream of courage and hope to flow instead. Her touch pointed me in the right direction to finding the answer I so desperately needed to know.
        A hero is someone you would want to emulate.  Jessica matched the description perfectly that morning.  She will never know how God used her simple act of kindness to help me.  It humbled me, as it revealed my inability to do this thing called life alone.  But even more, her willingness to reach out to one in need inspired me, even in my pain, to see past myself to those who may need a simple act of kindness.
    I wonder how the leprous man must have felt the day Jesus reached out and touched his disease infested body. I imagine he may have felt somewhat like I did in that classroom prayer meeting; wondering if anyone could make a difference, wondering if there is still hope.

     I have a feeling that he, like me, will never again underestimate what a simple touch can do!

Hope & Glory! To You ~ Love

Rebecca