Decking the Halls

As part of my Lent in Advent commitment, I went to a women’s shelter yesterday with some church lady friends.  With step stools beneath us we framed common area windows and doorways with garland and bows.  A Christmas tree with lights, ornaments and a big gold star topper was erected in the corner of the diningroom and each table was topped with a festive centerpiece.  We worked well and chatted happily as we hammered and hung.  It was a pleasant time and the place looked quite Christmassy when we left.  Hopefully, the residents are enjoying the seasonal look and that smiles splashed across children’s faces when they saw it.

In reflection, it feels as if something was missing, though.  We labored for the residents…nothing wrong with that….yet, I wonder how the experience would have been different if we would have decorated with the residents.  Granted, we did see  and interact briefly with a few of the women (and one cute baby boy), yet they were a passin’ through or had other things to do.  They were not invited to “be” with us in any significant way–maybe it was due to house rules or is standard policy to keep residents distant from volunteers.  I don’t know, I just know that we were in their midst but never really connected with them.  It kinda felt odd, actually…but then again, I’m a bit odd….

Oddness aside, I trust that somehow the shelter’s women and children are blessed by the red, green and gold we splashed across their common areas and that the real Gift of Christmas opens before them this season.  May Jesus bring them healing, hope and wholeness.  May children laugh and play freely without fear.  May joy find a corner and ring so loudly that all know that Jesus came for them and loves them unconditionally and unreservedly…and all of Heaven rejoices in the knowing….yes, all of Heaven rejoices in the knowing…

God Help Me…

Well, I’m on my second day of this Lent in Advent commitment.  I must admit I’m not doing too well…this is very humbling…

One of the things I’ve committed to do is two nice things every day.  Yesterday we were home all day so the only ones I could do something nice for were my husband and daughter.  We were a busy bunch with household projects and I did the normal homemaker stuff (which should count, since I do it for them), but by the end of the day I realized I should go above and beyond the usual. So…I wrote a note and taped it to the bathroom mirror so both would see it…it said “You two are the greatest and I love you!”.  Ummm, yeah…lame.  I know it was only one thing, but I did it for two people, so I’m thinking that counts as two. :) 

Today had its moments too.  I began a day fast of ingesting only liquids.  I used to do this regularly (years ago), twas no big deal…not today!  I think I need to ease into this…I know this sounds pathetic, especially as I used to be able abstain for days, but there it is.  My stomach growled painfully quite often and at one point I became light headed.  I drank water (mostly) with  juice, chicken broth and coffee thrown in on the side…still I caved in with a bowl of rice at 5pm…very weak, very weak…One benefit of this fast: as my stomach screamed for mercy I thought of  and prayed for those who go to bed hungry. Ugh, how horrible to go hungry all the time…

I entered contemplative prayer both days:  yesterday was interrupted by incessant phone ringing by our daughter (I guess she needed us to pick up the phone…finally I ditched the prayer time and answered it), but I did come back and complete the time.  Today I kept the commitment too, although the time dragged on–I found myself checking the clock for the 30 minute mark. Oftentimes I felt the gray nothingness of sleep/unconsciousness tugging me…sleep is a different place in the mind than contemplative prayer–how to describe this, I don’t know, just know the difference between the two when I’m ‘there’.  I managed to stay awake, though.

I actually did do something nice today for someone else.  She was carrying a sleeping 5-6 year old boy in her arms while entering Target. I was amazed at how small she was compared to how big he was, yet she somehow managed to carry him, blankie and all. Instead of bustling ahead of her to grab a cart and go, I stepped back and let her go first and then helped her pull out a cart.  She was most grateful as she hoisted her completely unconscious child into the deep part of her shopping cart.  Whew! I actually have a bona fide nice thing that I’ve done this Advent season. 

Inner resistance to all of this is rearing its ugly head…I’m feeling like these are “shoulds”, even though I’ve chosen to do them.  I recently heard that we learn best by doing something instead of just knowing it in our head–that by actually doing it, it changes our brain, it changes us.  I’m praying that that is the case, for this commitment requires action and not just when I feel like it.  Seeing someone in need requires attention and an eye for the other.  Giving sacrificially demands some planning and discipline.  Fasting invites focusing on God and not on bodily discomfort.  Prayer in a chair for 30 minutes means setting aside time and space for solitude and silence, which often takes some doing in this fast paced, noisy world. 

I’m realizing how weak I am with all of this, how, in large part, unnatural it feels.  I’m realizing I cannot do it in my own power…I’ve started praying, asking Him to give the strength and wisdom needed to keep going and to give me direction as to whom to help and how to help…something I should have done earlier, but then again, I’m learning as I go…

Lent in Advent

Although Christmas shopping is completed my many, I’ve yet to start.  No tree is up yet, no decorations un-binned.  Advent starts tomorrow (you know, that churchy season that anticipates the coming of Jesus and invites Christians to prepare their hearts for His coming), yet I’ve not reflected a bit or thought about how to enter the season.  How now, with all the demands of the season looming large, can I stop and look for Jesus?  What won’t get done if I pause to pray?  What won’t get baked or eaten if I enter a fast?  What won’t be accomplished if I help another and look for Jesus in their eyes?  Who’ll go without if I give time, goods or money to someone in need, ”to the least of these” (Matthew 25:40)?  Is it okay to exercise Lent in Advent?

I think I’m willing to find out…I think I’m gonna try something new.

Yep, til Christmas, I commit to:
1. fast one day a week (no food, only drink)
2. pray contemplatively EVERY day for 30 minutes (yikes!)
3. see those around me and do or say two nice things, every day
4. at least once a week give time, goods or money so that others might sense God’s love for them

I’ll try to blog about how this goes….I’ll try to muster the guts to share my adventure…

Tomorrow it starts…today, though, we wrap up Thanksgiving with turkey meal #3 at my in-laws.  Gobble, gobble! :)

Thanksgiving at Grandma’s

My 89-year-old grandma is cooking a turkey and hosting the fam, just like she has most every Thanksgiving since I can remember.  Aunt Sharry, who has won a 6+ month battle with ovarian cancer (Thank you, God!!), is fresh from the hospital and well enough to help organize the gathering along with Grandma and Mom (this year they asked me to bring a sweet potato dish).

The feast will begin with a circle of held hands in the livingroom and a prayer of thanks, just like every other Thanksgiving.  Then we’ll saunter off to the kitchen where Grandma’s pint-sized countertop will have been transformed into a traditional, home-cooked Thanksgiving buffet.  Turkey, stuffing, Aunt Connie’s mashed potatoes, Grandma’s always perfect gravy, sweet potatoes, Mom’s pistachio salad, buns, etc. will be ready for heaping on Grandma’s china dinner plates.  We’ll pick a table, sit down, share life, feast well, check in and see what is new with the ones near us and listen to the tales of gregarious extroverts near and far.  Later will be the pie…oh yeah, lovin’ the pie…

Much has occurred since our last meal together, yet much has remained the same.  Children grow, adults age, illnesses come and go.  Some souls die, some disappear, some new ones appear…occupations change, stresses descend and lift, joys and pains coincide…  We look about and remember those who used to grace the table but have passed on: Great-Grandma Hue, Grandpa, Jerry, Steve, John…  Others we mourn quietly in our hearts include those who’ve left through a different kind of death, divorce…  Another we’ll miss terribly is my son, Charlie, who we couldn’t afford to fly home from Boston University (ugh, my heart hurts and tears form at the mere thought of his absence this Thanksgiving).

The face of family changes, yet we stay the same.  Bloodlines hold us in check, keep us looking for one another in a world where faces that look like ours afford us some comfort.  We desperately want to belong and here, with family, we do…whether they say we do or not, we do.  Whether they invite us over or in, we do…they know it, we know it.  It just is.  Forever we do the relationship dance, forever we’re kin.

I give thanks to God for the wonderful family He placed me in and for the loving hugs that will embrace all those who walk through Grandma’s door tomorrow.  I give thanks that all of us will be well enough to celebrate and gather.  I give thanks for the opportunity to kiss cousins, laugh out loud, watch children play, be silly, share stories, eat pie and wash dishes together. 

Next year will be different. Yet I wonder if it won’t, in some ways, be the same…

Did I Get an “A”?

It is the last day before Thanksgiving break for our senior, Emily.  She’s been studying for a Physics test, an exam she takes today.  Like most students in her class, she is dreading that hour of testing.  But then, who among us actually looks forward to taking tests?

I think back on my high school/college days and a great test taker I was not.  Writing papers, reading books, homework, learning new things I enjoyed and did okay at.  The tests, though, especially the math tests, scared me something fierce.  I remember sitting down to tenth grade geometry tests and totally blanking out–not being able to recall one darned thing, which wasn’t saying much since I never ‘got’ geometry in the first place.  I would do an internal freak and sit there and pray asking God to please help me remember something, anything.  Sad to say, I don’t recall any angel visitations or magical equations dancing before my eyes–geometrical illumination completely escaped me.  God was silent, I was paralyzed in mathematical darkness.  Low geometry test scores resulted (geometry was the very last math class I ever took, ever).  To this day I couldn’t explain a proof if my life depended on it…and I’m ok with that (really!). 

I wonder at real life tests, though, that God sends our way.  I wonder at the six months of my husband’s unemployment…was that a test?  Was that time (for me…I can’t speak for the rest of the family here) a time of revealing to me how much I’d learned in the previous years?  Was it a time where I had to not only know I could trust God to lead and provide, but a time when I had to actually trust God to lead and provide?  If so, I had test anxiety!

These past six months I vacillated about what the answers were to our conundrum.  The test question I swam in:

How do we manage to get through this time of uncertainty and financial struggle?  
a. does God want me working?  with short answer option: if so, what work does He want me doing? 
b. does God want me sticking with what I’m doing (giving my time away thru volunteer work and prayer)? 
c. does God want us to try to sell our comfy, beautiful home (at a loss) and move into a cheap apartment? 
d. does God want me to grab this sucker and make something happen in my own power/create income however I think best? 

Of course, everyone had opinions about which answer was correct.  I heard many suggestions from well-meaning friends and family.  But I sat in darkness about what God wanted me to do….I couldn’t hear His answer to the question.  I froze up, just like I did during my geometry tests, gritted my teeth and spun in my seat. 

I think part of the problem had to do with the fact that I’d had this particular test before: it was early in our marriage and we were flat broke and unable to pay our rent.  I looked to God for a rescue of sorts–I wanted Him to provide for our situation.  I wanted Him to show up on my terms.  We landed flat on our faces, utterly humiliated.  A pretty sight? No.  To top it off, deleterious effects ensued for years.  It was a hard lesson and it revealed to me I had much to learn about God and His ways–it was kinda like a pre-test that totally I sucked at it.  What did I learn? I learned that God is not a sugar-daddy but a Father bent on helping me mature spiritually and taking ownership for my decisions in light of His will.   

So, here I was, 20+ years later, taking the test again with my previous grade results blaring through my mind.  “F”, I’m going to get an “F” on this one too!  Unable to relax and let His answer come, I began to wonder if I could ever know the answer.  The best I think I heard was “wait”…which left me with answer “b”, which remedied none of our financial issues and looked (on the surface) a heck of a lot like what we did twenty years ago.   Of course, I second guessed that answer and quickly started examining my motives to see if I was hearing another voice besides His.  Was I expecting a heavenly sugar daddy to show up on my terms?  Was I moving out of fear?  Was I afraid to work?  Was I in denial?  Was I moving from messages from my childhood (that women stay home and men work)?  etc.  The internal work was exhausting  and for a heck of a long time I internally jumped from answer “a” to “b” to “c” to “d” to “e” and back to “a” again.  They all looked plausible and every day Rich was out of work the choices loomed larger before me…the test would not go away, I had to stay there, check the answer I thought was God’s will and live with the consequences. 

With motives thoroughly examined and fears prayerfully faced, I still thought I heard “wait”….”Jeepers, what a crummy answer”, I thought, yet to choose another answer would have felt like disobedience, which (I’ve learned the hard way) is a much crummier way to go.  So, wait and stick with what I was already doing was my answer…even though I second guessed it hourly, it was all I got, so was all I could do in good conscience.  Before God I sat ready to accept the fallout of my decision…ready to accept the ramifications of what I perceived to be His Will for our life.  Still squirming in my chair I handed in the exam and am waiting for the test grade.

Ten days ago Rich (my husband) was offered and accepted a position that will float us pretty well financially and allow us to stay in our home.  In many ways prayers have been answered (thank YOU if you prayed for us!!!)…in many ways I sense my answer was pleasing to Him.  Yet, I’m not sure I aced this test.  But then maybe His tests aren’t really about acing…maybe they just reveal where we’re at spiritually.  Maybe they help us see how we’ve grown or withered in our relationship with Him.  It may be years before I get to see this test grade…until then I think it is probably prudent to quit sweating and squirming in my desk wondering how I did and get on with answer “b” until I hear Him say something else.

Your Eyes Have Died…

Daniel my brother you are older than me
Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won’t heal
Your eyes have died but you see more than I
Daniel you’re a star in the face of the sky

Elton John sang these lyrics with melodic conviction through our truck’s fuzzy radio reception this morning.  I was late (again) for chapel, yet when this song buzzed in I felt myself relax and begin to sing along.  (Singing when alone is about the only opportunity I get for singing nowadays [living with introverts has its challenges...]).  Since I cut teeth on KDWB AM 630 radio, I suppose I’ve heard Elton’s Daniel hundreds of times since its early 1970’s release–it runs deep in my psyche, yet I’m not sure I’ve ever actually listened to the words of this verse.  So go figure, while racing to go adore, I hear them as if for the first time. 

Although I know many Daniels (and some very cool Daniels at that),  Daniel from the Old Testament flashed before my mind’s eye.  Need some help?  Well, he is most well known for his dip in the lion’s den found in the Old Testament book of Daniel.  The story goes something like this:  Daniel refuses to bow before any king ordained gods and openly worships God instead, so he is thrown into a pit of hungry lions, lions whose mouths are closed by God.  Daniel lives, God gets the glory-oh yeah!  This is only one story, though: Daniel, time and time again throughout his life, chose unswerving trust in God and time and time again, God rescued, honored, lifted Daniel (even after years in a prison for something he didn’t do).  God gives Daniel the gifts of interpreting dreams and prophecy that prove to be invaluable for the people of his day as well as the people of our day.  He stands tall before God and, as Elton sings, he is my brother.

My brother…my brother…in Christ he is my brother…even though his “eyes have died” and he sees “more than I”, he is my brother.  Singing happily in a Mercury Mountaineer I wondered: have I been so dense all these years of struggling with earthly family issues that I’ve not seen the Family I’m part of?  Have I really never realized deeply who I’m eternally kin with?  Do I see Moses, Daniel, Ruth, Elijah, Mary, Jesus, Paul, St Patrick, Teresa of Avila, Padre Pio and Mother Teresa as my Brothers and Sisters?  Do I dare to ponder that these departed souls root me on and want nothing but the best for me just like my biological brother does?  Could it be that they check in to see how I’m doing like my brother and I do with each other?  Do they show up, stick close and pray hard when heartache visits, like many siblings do for each other?  Do they feel my pain, “the pain of scars that won’t heal”? 

Wow!  Have I been blind!  The Apostle Paul in the New Testament states over and over that followers of Jesus are Brothers and Sisters in Christ, yet I haven’t REALLY taken that in.  I need to sit with this a bit and ingest:  I have Family (not just a cloud of witnesses, like Hebrews 12 says) who, although physically dead, are real and present and trying to help me walk by faith with God.  They stand in His brilliance and undoubtedly pray for me as I try to hang with the Big Guy……………………Oh my gosh, even when I feel alone, I’m not alone, none of us are.  And with them we’re safe for they never betray, abandon, neglect or belittle…they’re life-givers, they’re fellow siblings of faith who are free of the sin nature that we on earth struggle with, yet they know all about that struggle.  They get it and “see more than I”.  They’re safe souls we can trust, they’re like Brothers and Sisters in the flesh but oh so much more, for they perpetually live in the holy Presence of God. 

It’s not just me and Jesus, it is me and a sea of supportive Siblings too.  As I reach for God, maybe they help extend my arms.  As I weep for others, maybe they weep with me.  As I stumble in faith, maybe they’re Ones who get beneath and lift until sure footing is found… 

Surely, each is a shining, holy ”star in the face of the sky” that I’m only just beginning to see…

Waiting and an End to Waiting

Wait…it seems I’m still waiting…for what, I don’t know…I’m just supposed to wait.  I feel if I wait anymore I’ll explode, as if I’m ready to burst into anything, something, as long as it means I don’t have to sit and watch expectantly for God’s go ahead, for God’s next step. 

Rich (my husband) has been unemployed for six months now.  Job interviews are happening, even final rounds he makes.  Each opportunity takes a mini-lifetime to know a “yes” or “no”.  We wait this afternoon for another response, either a “you’re hired” or “we’ve hired another”.  If not today, then maybe next week we’ll know for sure.  No one is in a hurry, so “wait” it is, “be patient” and in a little while it won’t be so long.

Spiritually, I’m standing by the door with bags packed and ready to go.  I know not where I’m to go…maybe I’m already moving and just cannot see…Maybe things and people are being put into place during this time.  Maybe I’m being taught how to shut up, sit down and wait…yep, maybe that fruit of the spirit, patience, needs some growth and ripening so others can be nourished by it.

Rich’s phone is ringing…

He got the job!  I think I’m in shock, this time of uncertainty has suddenly come to an end.  The future has an outline and a means of support.  I am so grateful that God opened this door and that Rich is a terrific fit for the position.  Win/win…love it when God does that!!

I still am clueless about me, but I know He is not.  Maybe what I did today is part of where I’m headed: prayer, listening, silence, lunch with a friend who’s hurting.  I don’t know, but I do know that now is a time of celebration. The waiting on this gargantuan item is over. Rich has a job and a job that he is pumped to step into.  Financially, we’ll be okay.  I think it is sinking in now, with tears streaming, my heart overflows:  Thank you God!!  Thank you, God!!!

At the 11th Hour

As I write it is the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month–the day, month and hour WWI came to an end.  It was named Armistice Day and later became Veterans Day to honor all veterans of all wars.  If you’re a Veteran, thank YOU for risking life and limb for the safety and wellbeing of all of us back home.  Your efforts and sacrifice carry positive reverberations through space and time.  Even if you feel invisible in a sea of soldiers, your singular stance to protect sends out strong spiritual signals that make enemies flee. Thank YOU!

To reflect back a bit to the end of WWI, to the hour of its cease-fire, the 11th hour makes me think of the expression “at the eleventh hour”, which means at the last possible moment.  The 11th hour of 11/11/1918 was the last possible moment for the enemy to gain ground, the last possible moment for warriors to be shot down.  Were any soldiers killed that hour?  Were any ships sunk or flying aces shot out of the sky?  I suppose so, even though within the hour the war was over.

The Bible says we’re in the End Times, the final moments before the war with Satan is over.  Even though we’re 2000 years out from Jesus’s prophecy of His Second Coming, we’re at the 11th hour.  Unlike most earthly rulers, Satan seeks no truce and will never consent to a peace treaty.  There will be never be a spiritual Armistice Day: God and Satan will never shake hands and call it a day.  No, Satan’s goal is only destruction and he knows his time is short and his defeat is sure.  Unleashing his wrath he seeks to deface God, deceive Jesus’s followers, rob us of our awareness of God’s love and peace and keep souls from the salvation offered through Jesus Christ.

As Christians, we are soldiers in perpetual combat.  Internally we, with the power of the Holy Spirit, battle impurity and idolatry, mindlessness and denial.  Externally, we choose love over fear, we choose forgiveness over revenge, we reach out and, as He leads us, dare to set foot on enemy territory and claim it for Christ.  Jesus commands and oversees His Body’s movements and strategically sends angels into demonic strongholds (those called to intercessory prayer do oh so much more than simply pray for another, they enter spiritual battle).   Satan seeks our personal and collective weaknesses and goes for the jugular.  We’re in dangerous territory, yet we’ve never been safer, for in Christ we’re eternally secure. 

In Ephesians 6, the Apostle Paul unpacks our spiritual armor…may we never forget it, never shrug it off, never leave ourselves vulnerable…this is the 11th hour and our enemy is cranking up the assault…

God is strong, and he wants you strong. So take everything the Master has set out for you, well-made weapons of the best materials. And put them to use so you will be able to stand up to everything the Devil throws your way. This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.

 Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it’s all over but the shouting you’ll still be on your feet. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You’ll need them throughout your life. God’s Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other’s spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out. (from The Message, vs 10-18)

(pic info: Turamichele (“Tower-Michael”) is the name of a moving mechanical figure on the Perlach Tower (Perlachturm) next to Perlach church in Augsburg, Bavaria, Germany. It shows the Archangel Michael fighting with the devil. Every year on 29 September (Michaelmas or St. Michael’s Day) the Turamichele appears in a window on the west side of the tower. The day is also marked by a big children’s party. Permission to use: Creative Commons license; found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Turamichele-2007-4.jpg)

Gourds and God

Last week a friend and I, while on a long bus ride, visited the topic of decorative gourds–a common sight this time of year.

Somehow we ventured into whether it is possible and/or prudent to cook and eat them.  Were they cook-able?  Were they edible?  What do they look like inside?  What do they taste like?  We didn’t have a clue.  We even asked another friend close-by what she knew–not more than we.  Bouncing along side by side sharing a school bus seat, we sat in gourd ignorance…competent, middle-aged Minnesotan women who grew up with gourds every fall but never knew them more intimately than their lovely decorative features.  It was sad, but not without hope.

On my way home from our bus ride, I stopped at the local veggie stand and bought a couple (see pic above).  I had to make sure I didn’t buy look-alikes like the miniature pumpkins or one of the varieties of miniature squash.  Around to the back of the stand I found them, good ole gourds. 

Tonight the house is empty, just me and the pets, so I determined this was my moment, my glorious gourd unveiling moment.  I grabbed our brand new super sharp knife and cutting board (bought just this past summer from a friend selling knives)

and set to cut them in half, like I prepare squash.  To my chagrin, I could barely get the knife point in the beast much less cut it in two.  The shell was rock hard, carving a pumpkin is infinitely easier.  I wasn’t going to let it totally win, though, so with a significant amount of effort, I beheaded it. Bwahahahaha!!

After exercising a similar fate on its yellow fellowmate, I topped a foil laden pan with my prizes and let my 350 degree oven take over.

I set the time for 60 minutes, grateful that in an hour’s time I’d know answers to decorative gourd mysteries…

What was I going to do for an hour, though?  Upon exiting the house, Rich (my husband) had commented that I wreaked of a bonfire (we burned today).  So I figured a quiet, cleansing, contemplative bath would help ease his pain.  I drew the water, turned off the light, lit a candle and entered a long soaker.

Well along into the watery luxury terror struck!  My pruned fingers grabbed the edge of the tub while thoughts raced through my head:  “What if I was supposed to poke those gourds?!  What if they’re like potatoes and explode all over the oven if they don’t get poked, if there is no place for steam to escape?!”  My contemplative soaker was turning on me.  All I could imagine was gourd plastered all over the inside of my oven! 

I sat for a moment while waves of horror passed through me.  Then my brain began show up and usher in some logic to the situation: What should I do?  Should I extricate myself from the tub and run dripping to the oven with a sharp knife, do the deed (a sort of reversal of Psycho’s shower scene), and then drip back to the tub?  Should I cut short the bath and let the gourd win?  Should I stay submerged and let the chips fall where they may (for all I knew the gourds had already burst, it was too late)?  Then I had a Spirit inspired thought:  “Hey, maybe I should ask God what to do.”  So, I prayed and think I heard Him whisper to my spirit ”I am God of the gourd”, which I interpreted as Him saying “I’ve got you covered.  Stay put and pray.”  Well, sounded good to me although it required a leap of faith that no matter the condition of the gourds or my oven at the end of the hour that it was as God would have it.  So, stay and pray I did.  It was a lovely time–connecting with God is like that.

After a time, the phone rang, disturbing my soaking silence.  Too many “what if that is ’so and so’?” ran through my head.  I let it ring through to voicemail and heard the signal that a message had been left. So, out of the bath I arose and into pj’s I poured.  The timing was perfect as by the time I got to the kitchen only 6 minutes remained of the arbitrarily chosen 60 minutes.  (The phone call was St Olaf for Emily…I worried needlessly, which seems to  be a theme in my life!)

Fresh and clean I edged toward the oven with trepidation.  “What ifs?” ran through me.  A night of scouring the oven flashed before my eyes.  I wondered if the cooked squash scent tickling my nose was just a cruel teaser–that I’d not taste gourd this night, just know it in baked-on form.  I knew there was only one way to find out, so I boldly opened the oven door while recalling the divine “I am God of the gourd.” declaration.

Sorry for the dark pic, but as you can see, they are intact.  No explosion happened (insert Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus here)!
I cut them open pretty easily (for the skin must soften during cooking) and here is what a decorative gourd looks like on the inside:

I scooped out the seeds and went for a taste.  Not too alarming…these gourds tasted very much like squash.  My lucky night as I love squash, especially with butter and brown sugar topping.  Filled those buggers with the duo and popped them back into the oven for a few minutes of melting.  Out they came, looking quite scrumptious, if I do say so myself (note the decorative touch at the top of the plate…they ARE decorative gourds, afterall).

Although I ingested more butter and sugar than gourd (these gourds didn’t have much flesh for feasting), I found the treat quite tasty. 

Now, back to whether I should have poked them or if they were ok without, I do not know.  I know next time (will there be a next time??!!) I’ll definitely try to stab them before visiting the oven.   I wonder, though, did  the God of the gourd intervene on my behalf and spare me oven scouring?  Did He preserve these darlings so I could taste His creation, so I could know just a smidgen more about what He has provided for humankind?  I don’t know and I may never know…but I am grateful He cared enough to come and calm my fears so I could keep on soaking and praying…

What Do You Smell Like?

Breezy and beautiful today…so breezy that farm odors are wafting our way.  We live in farm country but don’t live particularly close to a farm, yet when the wind blows through cow pastures, barn yards and freshly harvested fields, we get a nose full of that signature dairy farm smell. 

In Hebrew and Greek “spirit” means breath or wind…so when we read about the Holy Spirit in Scripture, we’re literally reading Holy “Wind” or Holy “Breath” or better yet God’s “Breath” which is the Holy “Wind”.  (If we sidle this up to the doctrine that the Holy Spirit is a Person, a member of the Trinity, things get a little fuzzy for me.  But I’m no theologian, so I’m gonna leave this one alone.)

God breathes Life, God breathes His Spirit, God directs His Spirit to breeze to us, through us, to others. Like a dairy farm on a breezy day, His Holy Wind blows through us and scents the spiritual landscape.  What does His Spirit encounter? What scents does He find on His way through?  What odor do our neighbors smell?  How about those at the edge of the spiritual landscape, those who sit on the fence and wonder about God?  What do they sense wafting their way during a breezy day through you or me? 

Right now it feels like God is present with me, but I’m not sensing His Wind a-breezing through me.  Stillness and patience seem to be the order of the day…I am trying to stay put and wait for His Holy Wind to come in power and wisdom and spotlight the next step.  I’m thinking I must be pretty smelly, that He is being merciful by not breezing through and polluting populations of souls.  Hmmm…maybe He is deodorizing this stinky soul so that when He does blow through, others will smell His aroma instead of me and my sinful stench.  Now that is a happy nose thought…if so, go God!