Believe it or not...I'm back again.  


Angels Among Us


At this time of year, whether you are Christian or not, there are symbols and icons of the season that are certainly recognizable to all of us.  The jolly old elf, trees, stockings, stars, nativity scenes, shepherds, bells  and angels--to name a few.  Angels feature prominently in the story of Jesus's birth.  First, angels foretold Joseph and Mary of the virgin birth.  Then,  the news of His birth was given to shepherds by an angel, who was then joined by "...a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.'" (Luke 2:13b-14)  


Perhaps your faith--or lack of faith--does not allow you to believe in this story.  Maybe you doubt the existence of angels and the caution given in Hebrews 13:1-2--"Stay on good terms with each other, held together by love.  Be ready with a meal or a bed when it is needed.  Why some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it!"--The Message//Remix.  


However, I fully believe that God sends angels among us.  Not robed in glowing white, winged and wearing halos--but disguised as one of us.  Listen to my stories with an open mind and then make your final judgement.  


My first encounter with an angel came when I was 16 years old, working my first job at a small florist.  I was making a delivery in the shop's old light blue station wagon.  It was twilight, raining and the windshield wipers did not work.  I made my delivery, ran back through the cold drizzle and began to back out of the narrow gravel driveway.  Somehow, I miscalculated the distance and wound up with the rear axle sitting atop a brick edging between the drive and a drainage ditch.  This was before cell phones and I was standing forlornly in the rain staring at that right tire suspended helplessly above the ditch and wondering what to do when a Plumber's van pulled off the street and a slight, middle-aged man hopped out.  In a matter of minutes, I was safely back on the road and wondering at the kindness of strangers.


My next automotive angel came about 16 years later as I drove my van through morning rush-hour traffic on my way to work.  Flying down the interstate at about 65 mph, smoke began pouring up through my hood, coating my windshield with a film of gray.  I pulled off at the nearest exit into a convenience store.  Once again--before cell phones--so I went inside and asked to use the phone.  I called my husband's office, which was 20 miles from where my crippled van sat.  While I was on the phone, a young man walked into the store and offered his help.  He was a Fed Ex driver and lived near by.  He went to his house to get a part and came back and fixed my van.  I tried my best to pay him or get his contact information to mail him a check.  He would not hear of it.  He just told me that he hoped someone would do the same if his wife needed help.  My heart was touched at the generosity of a total stranger.


My next angelic visitation came from a more familiar face. One Christmas season working retail, I was nearing the end of my day.  I'd spent hours on my feet, helping impatient shoppers, trying to get my department ordered and periodically taking a turn on a cash register.  My nerves were stretched, my blood sugar felt low and a customer had just decided to vent her ire at me because something was not on sale.  The line of waiting shoppers looked at me with sympathy as I fought back tears.  (You have to know...I don't cry that easily.)  Several even shook their heads in disgust or murmured "Unbelievable" at the hysterical woman.  Finally, she left and I turned aside to get a tissue and wipe the tears that were threatening.  There was one of my regular customers standing at the back side of my register with a decorated brown paper bag in her hand.  


"Pam," she said, " I am so sorry for the way that woman behaved.  That was horrible."  The tears were continuing to threaten as I heard the other shoppers echoing her sentiment. "I just felt like you might need a treat today,"  my loyal supporter went on as she held out the bag.  I realized that it was a gift...decorated with the items that she purchased often from my department and tied with a bit of curling ribbon.  Inside was an embroidered tea towel in blue and white.  As I hugged her neck, the tears fell and I knew that God had sent me a gift of hope and encouragement when I needed it most.


I could write a book about the angels that God has sent my way through the years.  Sometimes I don't recognize the angelic aspect of their visit until much later.  Reflecting on the wonder of a kind word, a hug, a phone call, note card or just the kindness of a driver letting me out into traffic when I'm running late...that's when it hits me that God knew how much I needed some hope, encouragement or friendship...and HE provides.  


Reflect on moments in your life when miraculously your needs have been met. It might have been something as simple as a smile and a friendly, "Hello!"  at a moment when your heart was heavy.   Perhaps you will begin to believe in angels, as well.  
Listen to this song by the group Alabama:
http://www.topcountrymusicvideos.com/alabama-angels-among-us/

Appreciating the gift of this day

If you've followed my two previous entries on this blog you probably think I'm constantly in need of encouragement.  When I re-read my own words I think that. Admittedly, some days it seems to be true.  Life has a way of beating us up and kicking us around like that.  However, recently I ran across something I wrote several years ago that has convicted me about my attitude of ingratitude.  (Sounds like a preacher's sermon title, right? ;)




 Here is what I wrote:
"...It's amazing how one moment in time can forever alter your entire life. ...This particular moment, however, is the most life-defining moment I've ever faced.  This moment, which seemed to stretch out into hours and days, brought me to the edge of God's one revelation that is most important to all Christians.  Something we all know, yet refuse to acknowledge daily by the very character of our lifestyles.
                    
                       This life on earth is not what we were made for. 


Our only purpose while we are passing time here is to serve God in whatever ways we can.  Our ultimate destination still lies ahead of us.  It is what matters most in all of eternity.  HE waits for us there with open arms.  Everything that we work to acquire does not add one bit of importance to our eternal lives.  Everything that we have does not count for much when measured by God's standards.  All that matters in God's eyes cannot be seen with human eyes.  It is what--or Who-- resides in our hearts.  It is giving back to HIM ownership of our lives--body and soul.  It means realizing that we never had control of our lives and surrendering our wills to HIS.  It means total and complete trust in whatever comes.


...This will never be an easy road to travel.  We will never achieve perfect harmony and peace for every day of our lives.  We are still human.  This is a life-long struggle to keep God first, above all else.  Daily we must remind ourselves that, whether good or bad, this day is a gift from God..."


And, Here is what preceded that moment:
In September of 2002, my world was turned upside down in a series of moments.  After several hours of waiting in the ER where my husband, Dewayne, thought he was trying to pass a kidney stone, a young doctor's non-chalant words knocked my world off its well-ordered axis.  Here is what I remember hearing him say, "Well Mr Raines, we've got some good news and some bad news.  You definitely don't have kidney stones.  Do you know what lymphoma is?"


Imagine how you'd feel if your heart stopped beating and you knew it.  You can see and hear everything around you but you feel like you are no longer a part of the existence of this world.  You're just standing there watching everything like a scene from a movie.  


Several hours later--as Dewayne lay in a drug-induced sleep--my heart began to beat again, the oxygen began flowing to my brain and conscious  thought returned.  My need to control this situation became apparent to me.  What to go home and say to our children, phone calls to our parents and family, friends, church members, employers...my brain tried to organize the words and prioritize the tasks.  Amazingly, I was even trying to think how I was going to "fix" this whole cancer situation.  Because, up until this point in my life even though I claimed to trust God, my prayers usually centered around trying to tell HIM how to handle my life.  


That evening as I lay across Dewayne's hospital bed, crying and pouring my heart out to GOD, my life forever changed.  No angels appeared.  There wasn't a bright light shining down from heaven.  Merely a small, quiet voice whispered to my heart, "You can't fix this.  But everything will be okay."  In that moment I realized that I did not want to lose this man who is the love of my life...but if I did...how blessed my life had been to have him.  His salvation is sure and if he left me now, we would be together again one day in glory.  I knew in that moment that whatever happened would be God's will and that gave my heart peace.  


If you don't know--the cancer was not lymphoma and Dewayne is in remission now. I am grateful for everyday that we have together.  I am blessed that I found and married my soul mate.  Our lives are in no way perfect...but they are intertwined as our hearts are.  


Though I often need reminding, I have peace because I know who is in control of my life. Each moment is a gift that I may waste or spend wisely.  Daily I struggle with the choices I make.  But today I gratefully continue my journey...


"...By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward--to Jesus.  I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back."  Phil.  3:13-14

So, there was never any doubt for me that sustaining this blog would be a challenge.  I've already said that fear of failure is one of my biggest problems.  It's what has held me back from ever really attempting any serious writing.  I might believe I have the makings of a Mark Twain narrative inside this head...but I don't Truly trust in it.  Nevertheless, here I am again.  Bad grammar and poor punctuation be damned...I'm writing again.

What will I be when I grow up?
A few years back--when I first quit working retail--my friends and I began discussing this phase of our lives that feels so new and fresh in so many ways.  Kids have grown, left the nest and our time and obligations have slowed down a bit.  When so many years were spent cramming endless events and activities into the hours of a day, suddenly free time seems to stretch out before you with new promise.  How to fill those hours with something enjoyable, productive and fulfilling starts out as challenging and exciting.  Yet, after the conversations that my practical, logical brain holds with my creative, adventurous brain...I'm left sitting in front of a computer playing Mahjong Solitaire or in  a recliner with a Sudoku book and a collection of mechanical pencils near at hand.  I still haven't written the next great American novel.  I don't have my B & B.  I haven't scaled any mountains or swam any seas.  I'm still just me.


What happened?  


 Don't get me wrong-- I love the creative work that I am doing now with Etsy.  Finding the cast-offs and trash that others have tossed aside and breathing new life into them is fun and fulfilling for me. First, the dirt, grime and filth is removed.  Sometimes an object just has to wait until I can see what I want it to become.  Then it is primed, painted, sanded, cleaned and sealed.  Even then, if I am not happy with the final result, sometimes I repeat the whole process.  Until finally it's ready to photograph, upload, edit and list for someone else to see the beauty that I see.  Now it is useful and has purpose once again.   Finally, when someone wants my re-creation...there is joy in that for me.  


Maybe these things that I repurpose, recycle and recreate are analogies of my own life.  The catch is I feel that I have the control over them.  I can take something that is dirty, beat-up and ugly and turn it into something that looks new and beautiful again.  Something that was destined for the landfill is now attractive and useful. 


Me?  I don't have the control over the events that shape my future.  Or that's the way it feels.  Mortgage payments, car repairs, aging parents, beetles in the garden, weeds in the flower beds, trees that need trimming, a world that is too demanding...what happened to that promise of free time and fresh beginnings?  Suddenly life becomes overwhelming and dreams become distant memories.


I learned several years ago--after much head-banging and whining--that I can't have control over every aspect of my life.  I'm good with that.  God created me and I belong to Him.  I'm good with that.  Does that mean that the cleaning, priming and purifying processes that I must go through are easy?  Of course not.  Is the scheduling as I would like it?  Definitely not.  But must I trust the One who holds me in His hands as He completes His work?  Faithfully.


If I truly claim His promise in Jeremiah 29:11  "'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans for good and not for evil to give you a future and a hope.'"...then I have to trust the Master artisan.  I am His and He knows what is best to repurpose, recycle and recreate me into a useful and beautiful object that can serve some further purpose in this life.  And so I wait.