U R or B

I am amazed at how simply uncomplicated worship can be. And yet, it doesn't surprise me, either. Last fall, as I searched for the perfect words to tell Him who He is to me, I stopped after, 'You are.' And I realized, He is. So, You are declares all I need to tell Him. He is my strength, my guide, my savior, my friend. He is my goal, my peace, my planner, my purpose. He is my Lord, my wisdom, my comfort, my healer. So, He is. Therefore, saying 'You are,' seemed to suffice. He is my all in all. So, in that space, during worship, where only He and I exist, those were my words, and then I seemed content to rest in His presence; to listen.
Until Sunday. I asked Him to work His way, His plan. To do what He should do, if indeed I left my life for Him to run without interference. (yeah, I know, like that will happen in THIS human life! But, bear with me.) as I communes with Him, seeking the words to asking Him to have His way in my life, I realized I wanted my God to BE. Be Who 'You are.' because in Your perfect existence you will BE exactly who I need You to BE at any given nano-second. Perhaps that is too simple. To just ask God to BE. But that perfection, coming into my life can only help me to be. Be a better person for Him, and to others. Be listening to His voice. Be understanding of the incidents of my life, and how they fit into His plan.
Yes, to praise my Lord today, I tell Him to 'be.'
"Since You are my everything; be my everything." He can be everything I need in this world, and in my life afterward, if I will let Him.
Worship can be simple, when we see Him for all He is, and is willing to be. Whether we use many words, or just one or two, it is simple communication with Him that His heart desires. He will BE when we approach Him, as He is.

It's eating my lunch!

Lunch is. Not on a daily basis, but every week! I've been trying to figure out the whole issue of providing lunch on a weekly basis for 20 different people with varying likes and dislikes, and dietary requirements. It just isn't easy. It's eating my lunch! Seriously. I feel like I'm spending an inordinate amount of time on this, and not on, well, you know, "presidential" things that might be really important to my Rotary Club, and even to the community.

Food might be a strange thing to blog about, but I am more consumed by it than I am consuming it these days! And, daily, as a Food Pantry manager, I think about it at work. So, should I get contemplative about this whole subject?

Motorcyclists ask if you ride to eat or eat to ride. My daddy used to ask us if we lived to eat, or ate to live. When you think of it that way, it gives a better perspective to the subject. Food isn't what it is all about. Living is what life is all about. Food is sustenance, energy, provision for getting things done in life. (Yes, I know you can still enjoy the food along the way. That's not where I'm going.) It shouldn't be a focus. But, it is. And with 40% of Texas schoolchildren food insecure, it must become a focus for someone. A concern.

I suppose this is bringing me back to one of my favorite Scriptures. One that I wish I would focus on much more often. "Whether then you eat, or drink, or whatever you do; do it all to the glory of God." 1 Cor. 10:31.

A Sabbath's Rest

There's something to be said for resting. Really resting. As well as talking some things out.
I don't have much planned for this weekend, but last weekend, I said, "no," to nearly everything. I told everyone I just needed a weekend of nothing; no doing; no dates; nothing. I was telling my boss, before that weekend, how much I knew I needed it. He acknowledged that we had been going 100 mph for weeks with extra projects; BESIDES doing our regular jobs. That got me to believing I was just plain exhausted.
After last weekend's rest, I felt normal. The best part of that is proving God right. He told us to take a day off every week, because we need the rest. Somewhere, I read about a study that proved that the human body needs a day of rest. I believe I'll try to take that a little more seriously.
This week was so much better for me, as well as all of those around me! I was able to look at all the things happening around me and enjoy them, or laugh at them.
No, I'm not sinking into that pit. I'm just going to have to remember that exhaustion can cause extra worries. Spending time in a good fruitful book, listening to some great music and not trying to get caught up on anything are good antidotes to weariness and the threat of depression.

Been there; done that.

Yeah. Been there; done that. Don't want to do it again. But I realized tonight that it snuck up on me. I avoided it a couple times in the last couple years. I could smell it, sorta. Something. Then, tonight, there it was.
I feel like I'm teetering on the abyss of depression again. I don't know why. I have a job I enjoy. It's tough, but it's important and I get to help people. I have a great husband; great kids. Oh, I could list so many things.
So, they would probably say we have to diagnose the situation. Quite honestly, I think I might not be busy enough. As much as I am enjoying not having homework, I think there is a part of my brain that is ashamed (?) or feeling useless because it's just not working as hard as it has been for almost three years.
I've been enjoying my weekends, and feeling guilty about it. I thought maybe it was because of my job. But, maybe it's because of my now-lazy brain!
We went on a HOG dinner ride to Clear Springs for catfish and onion rings. Then over to the Phoenix Saloon for bike night. Met some dancing friends there. Beautiful ride home, with the Big Dipper out in front of us. Gorgeous. And I was feeling guilty; or I was worried there was something else I should be doing. Something is bothering me; it's like a little cloud hanging around.
So, I'm on a quest to identify it and run as fast as I can as far away from it as I can. Since I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, and I truly know that the joy of the Lord is my strength, I really do know exactly where to start. Psalm 91 is a good one for my son while he's on assignment; but it's also a good one for my mind, so I'll start there. And head on into some mind-strengthening exercises in Matthew, I think.
God is good; all the time - and especially when I need him.

"You had me at 'hello.'"

Yea. It was one of those moments. Kinda.
Pastor Scott was saying how "being a part of people's whole lives, I mean their WHOLE lives - from their wedding, to the birth of a child, to burying a parent. Being a part of all of that is . . . " (I'm thinking , yea, it's a burden; and a lot of work, and . . . ) "well, it's a blessing." Well, no Scott, that wasn't really the word I was looking for. But he started his message that way, so I had to listen on.
So much of it scored my heart. It resounded in my being, until I leaked. Yes, tears ran down my face. It's hard to care, really. But, you have to care, really.
So, here's what I have come to, after a nice motorcycle ride home: For certain, caring is a deep thing and you can't do it without love, and you can't love without being loved by God. When you know that love, you have the strength to care as you should, because it is not of yourself that you love and care.
Now, going back to Scott's message about the sheep. Yea, we pretty much all know how stupid they are. We've heard the stories, and sometimes it isn't very encouraging to be compared to them. Which is why, I guess, we all need love so desperately. God loves that one sheep that goes astray - and most of the time they don't go astray on purpose. Like Scott said, "they nibble themselves astray," and can't find their way back. So they freeze in fright, and they cry out. And the shepherd comes, and carries them home.
Well, my shoulders had gotten so sore. My arms tired. And, the sheep keep going astray.
I want to care, but sometimes my grace storage facility seems to run dry. Maybe I should think of it as not having a bottom; or, not knowing where the bottom is. (Kind of like the Edwards Aquifer, maybe?)
When I run out, out of the depths of me, I begin to see just how big my God is. Or, better still, just how deep He is.
Later, Scott told me that I could put the sheep down. They aren't mine. Because I am not the shepherd. God is.
Knowing how shoulders can get sore, I suppose my goal will be not to get lost or go astray. I don't need to make Him come looking for me!

At the Bedside of a Warrior

He smiled and greeted me, though I'd only met him once before. He visited his mom last summer, came to church with her and sang us a song. Then, he was off for Iraq. I prayed for him every day. Him and Shaun and Rob, and now Timo – as well as all the others in harm's way.

As his friends left, his mom called, and she reminded him of who I was. She had to be a Grandma because his wife had come down with a nasty intestinal virus. He confided in her that he was having trouble with anxiety today, and they discussed the possibility of it being connected to the medications he was on. They prayed together. I held his hand. The one that was at the end of the wounded arm. The hand was cool to the touch. But his eyes were brown, and bright.

He told me he didn't know how to explain it. I said that was okay. I told my own story of an emotional moment that helped me understand that he couldn't find the words. My story communicated the frustration he was feeling. Perhaps mostly it talked about the lack of control. And, having been the captain of the largest platoon in his company, he would have a certain feeling for control.

Anyway, he seemed to relax. A little. Then he leaned his head back and cried out, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus." I remembered him singing at church, and I sang out loud, "Sweetest name I know." On the next line, he joined in. We finished the chorus and went into the first verse. He couldn't finish it. "Fear not I am with thee, Peace, be still, in all of life's ebb and flow."

His life was ebbing; it was flowing. He didn't fear, but he had been in the valley of the shadow of death, and was walking away from it still. He had been within 15 feet of a mortar going off in a building on base. Shrapnel blew a big hole in his arm. It tore into some muscles in his opposite leg. It put two small holes in his neck. It put a nifty scratch on his chin that's going to be better than Harrison Ford's. We all have to ask, "How did it miss his body?" Only the love of God, reaching down to shield a man surrounded by a cloud of prayer. Who is this man?

He couldn't finish the song. He laid his head back on his pillow and cried while I sang that verse. Then we sang another hymn. And another. No one came in the room. No one but Jesus joined our praise session. He prayed out loud, thanking God for being able to see the changing of the colors. He thanked Him for being able to smell the blooming of spring. He thanked Him for the sun that bakes the ground in the summer. He thanked Him for his lovely wife, and two wonderful sons that were such blessings to him. He thanked Him for the people that had been praying for him. I thanked God that He has promised that His joy would be our strength, and that he had made that strength so evident in this warrior, who sang, "Jesus Loves Me," in the ambulance ride after the blast. I thanked God for the many more like him, who are willing to serve, without question, for something higher than themselves. I thanked Him that He had promised never to leave us, nor give us more than we could handle with Him at our side.

We sat in quiet. Then we talked about kids. And motorcycles. And facts. We live by faith, not by feeling. Our faith is a fact. Another fact was that although he felt he couldn't get a deep breath, he still had 100 percent oxygen saturation in his blood. The fact was, he was breathing just fine. We talked about Sonic, and he is looking forward to the day he can drive through and place his own order.

I told him I would leave, if he needed to be alone, and it wouldn't hurt my feelings. I told him, also, that I could stay because I had no commitments. He said he would like me to stay. I held his cool hand, as he pulled the covers up to his neck. I refilled his water bottle. I turned the table fan for him. I suggested pizza for dinner and he said that sounded good. The doctors and nurses made their appointed rounds, and made some changes in his meds.

He told me later that he had wondered what I might do when he really started getting anxious. He didn't know if I would think he was going crazy. I think he worried I might turn and run. But we can't run from our appointed duties. It was a pleasure. It was a blessing. It was an honor, to have been called by God to serve as His hands and feet that afternoon, and to hold the hand of a wounded warrior.

I'm caught in a struggle. I'm going up and down. I'm filled with happiness and then filled with sorrow. I think this is called "life," but it is something I haven't really faced so clearly before.

I've faced death before. I've given birth. I marvel at both.

Right now, I can delight in life as I watch my one-year-old granddaughter explore it and enjoy it and marvel at it herself. The excitement she exudes when she tries or does something for the first time can be exhilarating. I'm on top of the world as I watch her. Then my mind wanders, and I come crashing to earth.

My cousin lies, on life support, in ICU, and my heart jumps back to our many discussions about God and heaven. He has determined that God bases your entry on whether you tried to live a good life; the old "balance in the skies" method. I have determined the Jesus Christ is the only promised entry ticket. Our discussions were many. His decision: concrete. There was no budging him.

What if I am wrong? Well, I suppose I'll see a lot of people that I never thought I would see. I will experience more of that adventure "high" as if I'm meeting them, again, for the very first time.

What if he is wrong? That's why I fluctuate so wildly. Yes, he is suffering now. But how do I feel about sending him to eternal torment? Is his final decision his FINAL decision? Would he give it more thought if he beat this pneumonia and the COPD and woke up?

So, here I ponder: between birth and death. That "dash" we call "life." I love it. I enjoy it. I praise God for it, even when it takes a bad turn for me. Because I trust Him to fix it, or make it work out right.