Coping with Reality

I asked my art class what they wanted to draw next.
"A cabin!" one shouted.
"With mountains!" another said.
"And a dog!" a third one cried out.
"With a dragon!" a fourth suggested.
"How about if we leave the dragon for the next picture?" I said. Fortunately, the dragon lover agreed.

Since I would not have much time to prepare after returning from my daughter's out of state wedding, I knew I had to do a practice pastel drawing this week. So yesterday, while praying to God about some of the disturbing trends in our society, I drew the picture above. It was very calming. I thought again how blessed I am to be able to draw. How do people who can't recreate a world the way they wish it was cope with reality?

For example, I got two texts last night from two different mamas we work with who chose life at the abortion mill. Both had been doing really well. Both had hit major bumps in the road. Neither is an artist. What do they do to soldier on?

Psalm 46:1-11 gives us a good idea of the best way to cope when reality disappoints:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. ...

In the midst of earthquakes, mountains collapsing into the sea, tsunamis and floods...God is immovable. His holy habitation awaits us, and is secure from all the ravages of the world where we reside. God Himself is the unshakable refuge in the cataclysmic shifts of earthly life.

There is a passage in the beautiful Psalm 23 that I never thought much about till recently, but it relates perfectly here.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overfloweth...

This is a remarkable image. How many of us are surrounded by enemies, in mortal battle, and sit down to a quiet and sumptuous feast, relaxing as our head is anointed with oil and our cup is filled to the brim?

Answer: None! We are shooting, hiding, running, freaking out!

Yet look at the image God sends us of how He leads us in this frightening, conflict-ridden, and fallen world. We are seated at a banquet though our enemies are all around us. We eat and drink in peace while God Himself keeps the enemy at bay.

Ultimately, He is the only reality that matters. The earth and its pleasures will pass away, but God remains forever. He and I, He and you, are seated together, safely enjoying the bounty of His eternal goodness. The enemies may surround us, but they cannot harm us. Not eternally.

That is even more comforting than drawing my pretty picture! Meanwhile, I have a whole host of supporters of Cities4Life I hope to galvanize to help the mamas. God is sufficient, but we cannot sit idly by while His people suffer when we have the means to help.

*********************

1 John 5:13-14

I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life. And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us.

John 10:10 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Matthew 10:29-31 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Safety in the Crate

Normally, celebrating the birth of our country is a huge deal to me. I love America and I love fireworks. But I was too exhausted from the wedding to stay up. However, it is never a fun day for the dogs. Even our brave dog, Honeybun, prefers to slink to the sound proof protection of my closet on the evening of unexplained, thudding noises. Lucky, the neurotic dog, prefers to go try to scare off the creature that is stomping the heavens. He races around the back yard, barking and lunging at the sky. Then he careens back inside and looks around to see if the monster somehow evaded him and came in the house. He would probably drop dead from exhaustion, or a fed-up neighbor shooting him, if we didn't finally corral him and put him in the crate. He knows the crate is a safe place, where thus far no awful calamity has ever befallen him and in fact, he often gets tidbits of milkbones there.

I am reminded, a little more often than I would prefer, that I am a rather hyper individual, poised on the brink of frantic when the noise and chaos threatens my calm, ordered world. I am like Lucky, afraid those unseen enemies that are raising such a ruckus in the distance will be coming for me next. I totally get his madcap racing and barking at sparks in the sky. The thing is, no matter how many times someone tells Lucky (or me), "Stop! Hush! There is nothing to be afraid of!", it doesn't make me less frantic, and it makes me feel misunderstood on top of my fear.

I have a crate too. It is prayer. It is crawling into the hands of God and nestling my cheek against His trouble scarred palms, and hearing Him whisper, "It's ok, honey, you are safe here."

I paused before dragging my tired body to bed while fireworks lit up the sky.
"Lucky!' I called to the racing dog out back.
He came bounding in, soaked by the recent rain, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
"Come in your crate," I crooned and opened the door. He crawled in and lay down instantly. The wide eyes slowly closed, and his breathing quieted.

Jeremiah 32:37-38
³⁷ I will surely gather them from all the lands where I banish them in my furious anger and great wrath; I will bring them back to this place and let them live in safety. ³⁸ They will be my people, and I will be their God.

Wise Scheduling

As soon as Amy's pancreatitis ordeal is over and done with, she is going to need to come help me clean out my house, I thought as I returned from the airport. I had spent the past four days helping my recuperating sister whip her house into shape in between doctor appointments and hospital stays. It was a sore disappointment to walk through the door of my own house, greeted by dust balls the size of small dinosaurs. All the papers and to-do sticky notes I had left four days ago were still there... including the one on top of the due library books I had asked to be returned to the library, requested of certain family members not to be named except under excruciating torture such as someone asking me politely.

Oh well, I sighed, at least I have my pancreas. This is a blessing for which we should all thank God on a regular basis.

I leave for my son's wedding in a week, and with the depth of all my experience and wisdom, I planned a social calendar that rivals the new Princess' of England list of engagements. Just the thing for one of the most happy and important and busy days of my life coming up! On this week that I need to be preparing to head to Virginia to be mother of the groom, I have planned a 3 hour Beatles Tribute Band night downtown on Saturday, a down-river 3 hour kayak trip for Monday, volunteer work for 5 hours on Tuesday,  a dog club awards dinner for Wednesday about an hour from us, and a hair appointment and hopeful visit to our Nursing Home friends on Thursday. So far on Friday, nothing is scheduled, but you can bet that in my Energizer Bunny mentality, it will be filled with something before noon today.

Why? Why do I do this to myself? So for everyone who is planning to ask me to do something else this week, I would just like to say NO. Except my son and his soon to be bride. Friday is all yours, my loved ones.

I wonder if God ever feels overwhelmed. If we are made in His image, then one could conclude upon viewing me at this moment that God is submerged in paperwork....along with dust and dog fur. But try as I might, I can't find a single Biblical reference to God slamming the door on His people and saying, "I am lying down now for a nap, hold all prayers til further notice." Not once. Every time one of us whiners lifts our hands to beseech that He help us out of yet another catastrophe, He is reputed to be always listening.

Sigh. Ok, who needs me Friday?

Psalm 121:2
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber

Digging Deep

I pulled up to the senior home with both kayaks strapped atop the car. I leave them up there since we kayak every chance we get in the summer. My old friends Comer and Evelyn were sitting on the porch waiting for me, beside a sleeping lady with an oxygen tank hooked to her. Comer glanced at the car, and then did a double take when he saw me wave.
As he and Evelyn shuffled slowly over, big smiles on their faces, a concerned aide from the Alzheimer unit came running from the home.
"Where are you taking them?" he asked.
"Kayaking, " I said, nudging my 93 year old friend, "How's that sound, Comer?"
"That sounds fine," he laughed.
"Nah, I'm taking them out for a long awaited steak dinner. Would you like that better?" I asked Evelyn.
"That would be nice!" she said.

The aide patted Evelyn's hand as she settled in my car.
"She's my favorite," he said, "We sing together."
He began singing "Zippety do dah!" and Evelyn eagerly joined in. They hit line 4 and then stopped.
"We never get any further," he said, "We can't remember the words."
"Mr. Bluebirds on my shoulder," I sang, and Evelyn sparkled as she joined in remembering, "It's the truth, it's factual, everything is satisfactual, zippity doo da, zippity aye, wonderful feeling, wonderful day!"
"Wow," said the aide ,"You should volunteer here."

As I got in the car I held up the 50's music CD, "How about some music, Evelyn?"
"I don't like music," she said.
I turned to look at her.
"Don't give me that," I told her, "You love music."
She began singing zippidy doo dah again.

For months, Comer had been telling me how he longed for a steak dinner. Evelyn's condition had been so fragile that I had been hesitant to do anything but take them sightseeing in the car while eating fast food take out. It became our little nugget of ritual hope that when I dropped them off, we would say, "One day we will go to a restaurant and have a real steak dinner!"

So today I had planned a half hour drive to Lake Wylie to a restaurant on the water. We would eat on the outside patio deck right on the sparkling lake, with ducks trolling for food next to us. The restaurant specialized in TBone steaks. I had called ahead to be sure they could serve us quickly as my old friends could not be out too long without great fatigue.

As we sat down, Evelyn was beaming the entire time. She looked happily at the ducks next to the dock. The waitress bought the menus and I told them, "The print is pretty fine, but I can read to you the steak choices."
"I don't believe I will have steak," said Comer.
I blinked at him.
"How about you, Evelyn? Would you like to hear the steak choices?"
"She doesn't like steak," said Comer.
"I want the chicken club," said Evelyn.

As we ate, Comer was recounting some of the jobs he had held in his life.
"Do you know Olan MIlls?" he asked.
Everyone knows Olan Mills. They are probably the most famous portrait studio in the nation. They are everywhere.
"I worked for Olan," he said, "Before he ever had a store even."
"The person Olan?!" I exclaimed.
"Yep, me and one other guy were his first sales crew in Alabama."
"OH my! What else did you do?"
"I was a Golden Glove boxer. Pretty good in my area. Do you know Rocky Marciano?"
"No.... I think I have heard of him."
"Greatest boxer of his time. They tried to set me up to fight him, but I said no way."
"Like the Rocky movie!" I said, laughing.
"But I made the most money playing poker."
"Poker?"
"Yes. When I was in the army I won $50-$60,000 playing poker. The FBI came out and put a $2500 cap on our games when they got wind of it."
"Evelyn, did you know he was a gambler?"
She smiled nodding, "Yes, a gambler....."
"Did you ever get in trouble....?"
"Oh, I never did anything wrong.Once," said Comer, "When the war was over and we were on the train coming home, we were having a big celebration, playing poker. One soldier kept winning time after time. And then we caught him cheating. So I picked that soldier up and I threw him off the train."
"You just said you never did anything wrong!!! You threw someone off a train!?"
"I mean, I never did anything criminal."
"Throwing someone off a train!"
"Well, it wasn't going very fast...."
"Evelyn, did you know Comer threw someone off a train?"
She smiled and chuckled, " Oh dear...."
"So what attracted you to him in the first place," I asked, "This gambler who threw people off trains?"
"He was......weird," she said, struggling for the right word.
"I quit gambling then," said Comer, "By the time I knew her. But we both played poker. She is a great blackjack player."
Evelyn nodded, giggling, "Yes, black jack."

As we drove home after dropping our friends back at their Senior Home, Asherel and I were discussing the various events she could choose from for next year's Science Olympiad.
"In the end," I told her, "It doesn't really matter which event you choose. If you go deeply enough into any subject, you will be fascinated. It is only when we do overviews, surface understanding that things are boring."
And I realized that the relationship we have developed with Comer and Evelyn is becoming likewise more fascinating each day we see them. The layers of their lives that they slowly reveal always surprise, always amaze, and always entertain. What a colorful kaleidoscope of living history my old friends are!

We also prayed together for dear sister Amy, lanquishing for week number two in the hospital with her second bout of pancreatitis in a month. News had seemed so dire, so depressing the day before and Amy seemed so down and discouraged. When we got back, I called her. The doc had been in and not only had she been moved from ice chip diet to a liquid diet with jello and italian ices, but the doc felt she would be able to go home, maybe very soon. He felt that in all likelihood, the cyst on her pancreas was best left alone for now, and any procedure could likely wait for a few weeks. He felt there was little danger to her, and gave a tentative clearing of her hopeful plans to still attend my son's wedding in July. And she was bubbly happy with a beautiful bouquet that same son, Matt, and his fiancee Karissa had sent to her cheerless hospital room.

I know many many friends have been praying for her, and my heart is so warmed by the outpouring of love and concern. Another sweet friend will be taking Asherel to her home on the afternoons I will be in Texas helping Amy. And my folks offered money to fly Asherel out if that was better for me.

In my Bible reading that morning, I came across one of my favorite verses, Philippians 4:13. It captured my day perfectly:
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Intentional Relationships

It was clear Lucky was choking on a bone, and unless I took action, all our struggles with this stupid dog would be over. However, I leaped to my feet and asked Asherel, "Do you think the Heimlich maneuver works on dogs?"
"Try it," she said.
So I hugged the choking dog around his midsection and jerked quickly
upward. Lucky yelped and swung around ready to bite me. But he was still hacking. So I did it again. He yelped again. No bone came flying out of his mouth like it does on the cartoons, but he stopped choking. He looked miffed about the Heimlich thing.

I had time to reflect on that act of saving my dog in the wee hours of the morning as he awoke me to bark bark bark at an owl.

One night of disrupted sleep would not matter much, but I had been up almost the whole night the evening before. It was National Prayer Day, and our church had members sign up to pray for one hour for the entire Prayer Week, 24 hours a day. I had signed up for one of the less coveted times- 6 a.m.  I didn't want to set my alarm and wake Arvo when he has to be up by 7 each day, so I just set my internal clock. My internal clock, like the rest of my internal apparatus, is neurotic, however. And so every hour, on the hour, I would wake up  to see if it was 6 a.m. yet.  Since I was so tired half way through the night, I decided I better do proactive praying as long as I was awake, just in case I slept through my designated 6 a.m. time.
Some of my long hours of prayer started like this, "Dear Lord, you who know all things, know that my allotted prayer slot is 6 a.m.  However, if I sleep through that time, can you please pretend this is my 6 a.m. prayer? Maybe record it and play it back at that time to fill the gap?"  And after praying for our nation, our leaders, our world, our churches, our family, our friends, our stupid dog barking at the owl, I would fall asleep .....briefly. Then I would awaken, look at the clock, see it was not 6 a.m., and decide I better pray another proactive prayer since for sure I would miss my appointed prayer time now.

I had noticed that many of the wee morning hours were not filled when I had signed up for my 6 a.m. slot. So as I prayed, I was glad to know that in case they had remained unfilled, someone was approaching the Throne of Grace while everyone else was getting their beauty sleep. That someone continued to awaken and pray all night long, until finally I opened my eyes, and it was 6 a.m at last. I had not let my church down. I prayed for my allotted hour.

Praying all night is not as hard as you might think. When I fully commit to staying awake and not letting my mind wander, to completely give over my heart, my concerns, my praises, my thoughts to God, it seems easier to focus than when I am about to go to sleep and am saying my Goodnight prayers. The mind is a traitorous thing, and tends to wander at the first chance it gets. More than once I have started off with great intentions, "Oh Lord of Heaven and Earth, may your Name be praised...." only to meander instantly into thoughts of whether roast beef is best cooked with a foil cover or not. (By the way, I still haven't figured that one out....anyone care to comment?)

It is not that I want to take prayer casually or flippantly or distractedly. It just seems I can't help it. But I noticed this phenomenon last year when I signed up for a slot on National Prayer day to commit to a full hour of prayer at a designated time. I was not only able to stay focused, but didn't want to stop when my hour was up. I found myself in an attitude of prayer all morning, and even into the afternoon.

Intentional. That is the key. So little of my attempts at relationships is intentional, including my relationship to God. That is why my weekly meeting with our old friends at the nursing home is so important. It reminds me that relationships don't just happen. They have to be cultivated. They require maintenance, love, effort, care, and intentional connection.

Like I mentioned yesterday, I was a negative space wall flower growing up. I hovered on the edges, too shy and too different to easily connect with others. I am still shy (inwardly at least) and Lord knows I am a wee bit different, and often my interests don't mesh well with normal people....However, I have learned that when I reach out intentionally to others, often enough, lovingly enough, and persistently enough....they eventually reach back.  In fact, I think God is our guide in this. If anyone is intentional in relationships, it is He. Look at the Bible and how His people ran from Him time and time and time again. And yet He never shut them away from Him, and He never gave up. He may have chastised them, but He was always offering a Way to return to Him, and He never ever stopped beseeching them....or us.

The least I could do in return is be intentional in a few moments of earnest prayer with Him. And maybe then go out and be a little more intentional in my relationships with those around me. There are two common ailments to mankind that I think we do have a bit of control over- boredom and loneliness.  I think both are cured by the same method- reaching out beyond our own molecular space with intention to bump up against something or someone created by the God who knows how hard it is.

Lucky was still glaring at me.
"Hey, sometimes what helps you hurts a little!" I said, as he licked the crumbs from the rug.

Psalm 18:16
¹⁶ He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
   he drew me out of deep waters.
Psalm 119:48
⁴⁸ I reach out for your commands, which I love,
   that I may meditate on your decrees.

Soaring upward on a wing and a prayer

Today we go to the gorgeous pink church, with a ceiling 5 stories high. The ceiling is magnificent, free of rafters or speakers or any impediments to the prayers of the devout below from soaring without encumbrance...or of helicopters doing likewise. The ceiling is taller than trees, with no branches that might rip delicate tissue or snarl hopefully whirling rotors.

"I have an unusual request," I told the head pastor of the largest church in Charlotte.
We sat in a huge magnificently appointed conference room. The conference table could seat 50. Asherel and I sat across from the Pastor and the facilities manager. Our voices echoed in the room.
"We have Science Olympiad helicopters that we think can break the 2 minute barrier..."
The Pastor tilted his head and narrowed an eye.
"Not a real helicopter!" I added quickly,"It is powered by a rubber band. And we need a really tall ceiling to test it adequately. I have always admired your tall ceilings....er, your church."
"Are you sure you don't want me to pray for a loved one or perhaps for your salvation?" (he didn't really say that but I think that was more in line of what he was expecting.)
"Oh, you certainly may if you like, but I am a believer already. I am sure your church is excellent at those functions, and now, I am offering you an opportunity to expand the definition of soaring to heaven."(I didn't really say that either, but isn't it a perfect hypothetical retort to a hypothetical question?)

"Where have you tested in the past?" he asked. (He did really say that because I think he was hoping we might wish to test there again.)
"In a gym," said Asherel, "And it gets stuck and sometimes broken in the rafters."
"Your ceiling has nothing to get stuck on," I added, "We have had to shoot it down in the past."
The pastor cringed.
"With rubber bands!" I said, "There isn't anything we do that would hurt your church." At least not physically....
"Where would you want to do these practice flights?"
"The portico entryway is perfect," I said, "Although the Sanctuary itself has even higher ceilings. Would it be sacrilegious to fly in there?"
He nodded.
"The portico is perfect then."
The pastor looked at the facilities manager.
"They could fly next Friday," he said.
"During the funeral?"
"Oh, no that would not be proper. How about Saturday the 16th?"

So today we will attend the largest church in Charlotte to fly helicopters. But we will be in the right place because we will be praying. We will be praying that it breaks the 2 minute barrier. The state Science Olympiad contest is just two weeks away. I find it very appropriate that our final test flight will be in a church. I suspect it will give us a special anointing that less spiritual helicopter teams won't have.

One of my favorite Bible verses is "I lift my eyes unto the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord , the maker of Heaven and Earth."  The best dreams I ever have are of flying. Heaven is always described as above us....as up, up, up. Why? Why do we lift our eyes...why do we want to soar....why do we look up when looking for God?  God is infinite, and all around us. Up is only part of where God resides. All those pilots who have gone as far up as we can go have never reported seeing pearly gates, or even a glimpse of the saints gathered in joyous song.

Maybe it is because when we look up, our eyes are opened as wide as they can go. Try it. You can't look up with squinty eyes. It hurts the muscles. I think God intends for us to acknowledge Him with our hearts and eyes fully open. The evidence for God is all around us but we have to be looking. And today, I will be looking up for we pray at least 120 seconds.

2 Samuel 22:11
¹¹ He mounted the cherubim and flew;
   he soared on the wings of the wind.

Running with Joy

Now that my fingers have thawed out and my tongue is no longer frozen to my soft palate, I will tell you that being the ring crew for an agility trial outdoors in 19 degree cold is not as much fun as you might think.  I had on 3 layers of wool, and my full length down parka with the fake fur around the hood all tightly strapped around my face. I looked like Nanook of the North. I was still cold.

But this morning, I awoke to snow and more snow is forecast all day!! We will certainly have enough to cross country ski on as long as the snowplows don't decide to ruin my fun and plow our streets. And despite freezing for half a day yesterday putting poles up so that dogs could knock them back down, I am thrilled to anticipate my day on the snow today in similar cold. We have gas for the generator so even if we lose power, we are fine. The generator is small but it powers the essentials- the coffee maker, and the computer.

Honeybun is curled in a little tight ball of fur next to me. She was not at her best yesterday in the frigid day test trial (called show and go). Asherel was cold and tired even before we got there, and so Honeybun picked up on Asherel's less than excited attitude and she was distracted on the course. It struck me how critical it is for teams to work together, to be in synch emotionally, with focus on the same goal. If one is not at her best, it is likely the other will be dragged down as well. I think one of the hardest aspects of running agility courses for Asherel is losing her self consciousness and generating excitement that will feed off of Honeybun's natural desire to please. It is hard for Asherel to think like and act like a dog in front of spectators, but if she can't be "one" with Honeybun, they are never quite a team. Honeybun tries as hard as she can to understand English, to read Asherel's mind, and to do what this baffling but beloved human is asking of her. She checks back with Asherel constantly while on the course, unless of course her nose chances upon a piece of dropped food from the last contestant, which happened far too often yesterday and is why food is banned from actual competition rings. Then she might spend 10 minutes in the tunnel on the course sniffing out the trail of sirloin, like she did yesterday.

But the best agility dog/handler teams are those that can read each others' cues and movements and purpose so exquisitely that they move like one. And the hallmark of both, besides grace and apparent ease is JOY. If the team is working the way it should, joy accompanies it throughout.

I have found that to be true in almost any endeavor. When I am doing what I am supposed to be doing, and my heart and mind and focus is all riveted on the proper goal, it is joyful. And when someone is with me working towards that same goal, and we are of one mind and spirit in our pursuit of excellence, it is unspeakable joy. I am quite sure that is why the Bible mentions "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be." (Matthew 18:20)  God wouldn't mention this if it were easy, or came naturally. So it must be difficult for 2 or 3 to gather in like purpose with like focus not only in the name of God, but in the name of anything.

We had a guest pastor this week who alluded to the purpose of congregating in prayer. He said so often our prayers are self-focused and our motivation really needs to be other-focused.
"Goodness," he bellowed, "Here in the dry south we are praying for rain so our grass will grow!! We don't need God to help the grass grow! What about the people around the world who don't have enough to eat, or who are being tortured for their faith.... that's what we need to be praying about!"

Now I would disagree in part- we DO need God for our grass to grow....but I get his point. Our focus needs to be unified, and it needs to be on a goal worthy of our time and effort.  And like Honeybun, who is constantly seeking her Master's desires, we should likewise be asking for His direction.

Polly, our beloved mentor in all things agility, wrote to me after the trial and told me to remind Asherel to keep it fun for both her and Honeybun.
"Dear Honeybun would die for Asherel if she thought that is what she wanted," our mentor Polly said.
Jesus did die for us so that the penalty due us was paid in full by Him. We would never have to run the race alone, but always accompanied by God. And with Him beside us, we should be running with joy, unspeakable joy.

Matthew 18: 19-20
 ¹⁹ “Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. ²⁰ For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

Rejecting Help

We begged, cajoled, almost coerced Grandma to leave her home to either live with us or have a small assisted living apartment. She refused. The only option left would be to tie her up and put her on top of the van like a Christmas tree. It would not work to put her in the car, even fully bound because she is old and frail but feisty and her mouth muscles seem stronger than ever.  So with our hopeful departure time being pushed back further and further Arvo and I both got on the phone and made dozens of calls. Finally, we arranged to have two home health services coming to assess the situation (one today) and the private one will start immediate services after the assessment. As I arranged it, before getting off the phone, I asked Grandma, "So are you on board with this?"
"I'm on board," she said, "Or you will never leave."

It is not fun using strong arm tactics with a frail and kindly, shaking old woman who would die for us. I appealed to her sense of reason,
"Mom, if your own mother were in the same level of health as you are, would you leave her to live on her own?"
"She was!" exclaimed Grandma, "And she was so stubborn! She refused!"
I looked pointedly at her without speaking, letting those words echo back to her.

The situation is not unlike what God faces with us every day.  He pleads with us to be rational; look at the evidence of His goodness and provision. Trust in Him and turn to Him and be healed. But we run on our meager and imperfect self-reliance, rejecting the source of sustenance and help, to our detriment and His despair.

In the end, we have probably done all  we can do for now, other than continue in prayer.  But I told Asherel that should I ever become so irrational, just bop me over the head, and drag me away.

1 Peter 4:7-8 (NIV)
The end of all things is near. Therefore be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray. [8] Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Butterflies and Prayer

While kayaking yesterday, in between bouts of fearing the dogs would capsize the boat, the snakes would slither on board, or the giant snapping turtles would devour our toes trailing in the water, I was in absolute peace.

As I slid along the shoreline, deep lush trees lining the sparkling shore, a bright butterfly flitted against the deep emerald leaves. He fluttered against the deep dark colors of the forest, and his path was clear, in its contrast to the darker tones. The contrast of the bright wings, tiny though they were against the immense but dark forest made him startling bright, capturing my full attention.

This morning, our Church is starting a week long devotion to prayer. People signed up for time slots, one hour for all 24 hours each day for a week to pray for our nation, our military, our church, our families, our world. I signed up for 8-9 this morning, thinking I would be up early, have finished my blog post and efficiently move on to prayer. My best laid plans were as usual, waylaid, not by mice or men but by insomnia. I was up most of the night..... so did spend much of it in prayer but that didn't count. I had signed up for 8-9 a.m., Monday morning.

As 8 a.m. approached, I snarled at my lack of foresight and grumbled a bit at all the things that would now be put aside that needed doing so I could pray. With this admirable attitude, I approached the Throne of Grace. Soon the lightness of soul that always contrasts so darkly with the cares of the world transported me like butterfly wings across the hour. I was shocked to see 9:00 had come and gone, and my hour of prayer had flitted across the morning, leaving a trail of peace and brightness in its wake. A butterfly to carry me on fragile wings to the Presence of God.

Psalm 63:7
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.