Amazing!

When I pay attention, when I obey, when I listen to God, it’s the small things that become the big things, and miracles happen.

Teaching at a Recovery Center began when God moved me to give 100 books to their library, which took six months for me to do. No I don’t always listen to God in a speedy fashion.

This was May 2009, and almost as soon as I packed the books he put another idea into motion. Teach a service, hold a worship time for the ladies. Since my schedule is full, I tossed out the time to God, telling him that 8 a.m. on Sunday mornings was the time I was available.

Hmm…he knew they didn’t have a service at that time. So I now teach from 8 a.m. until 10 a.m. each Sunday with my friend Mary who is our prayer warrior.

We’ve heard guards sing in our services, had ladies tell me they’re getting to see their children, heard of how forgivenss has taken place in their families. One lady got her doctor’s report back — no cancer.

Each Sunday ladies sing, some share scripture and I always have someone who offers to run the music on the equipment.

I love my ladies in purple, the color they must wear while going through this program.

Two weeks ago, I prayed with one lady, who had some things on her heart. During the service, I also prayed with another lady who told me she had hurt feelings, it turned out to be the first lady who’d said things to lady number two.

I prayed for them, asked God to restore their friendship, and reminded the second lady of their bond in Christ.

Then yesterday, I was elated to learn how out of the 100 ladies, my two prayer buddies were asked to speak to young juveniles at a detention center, offering motivational speeches.

Isn’t it awesome how God used them? He picked them from everyone there–and yes, they’re bond of Christian fellowship was restored!

Thank you Lord!

A new protective top for soda cans seemed like a great purchase.

The pop-top keeps the fizz in the can and closing and reopening the lid is easy, at least that’s the promise written on the package.

My sister Mel was sold on the product, especially since she drinks a zillion diet-cokes a day. She wears a can of soda on her arm, like a bracelet of caffeine, her fix it always at hand.

Mel bought a package and gave me six of the little pop-tops to take home for myself.

At the house, I tossed the colorful plastic tops into the sink, wanting them rinsed off, before attempting to test one out.

Later that day, hubby saw the plastic thingys in the sink, asked what they were and proceeded to use one. He placed an open soda can on the bar, rinsed off a pink top and pressed with all his strength.

Nothing happened. It wouldn’t go over the rim of the can. It would not snap on.

I shared, “Try harder, press straight down. It can’t be that hard.”

He grabbed the plastic top, pressed with both hands, only this time the can shifted like a waterfall of surprise. It flew from the bar in dive to the floor and soda coated the stove, the fridge, the counter top and finally poured gooey soda onto the tile.

And yes, the pop-top remained safely in my hubby’s hand.

Why is it that seemingly easy, no nonsense sort of tasks, turn to overwhelming and troublesome chores? Why do manufacturers and inventors guarantee items offering promises that aren’t true?

I wonder, are we a lot like a pop-topper? We promise, we give our word, only we don’t snap into place. We forget to engage and protect the fizz of friendships. We forget that our word should be our bond of protection in relationships.

Even my sister’s hubby smashed an aluminum can into pieces when he tried to snap on his pop-topper. Do I come smashing into a person’s life, when I don’t follow through, when I say one thing, and do another?

I believe people mean well, most of the time, but aren’t we all kind of messy and sticky especially when we’re less than honest, less than truthful?

So when others fail you, and for those times when you fail your friends, pop over to Philippians 4 where it speaks of how we should think on things which are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy.

Now, as for the pop-toppers, here’s my advice. Drink all of your soda in one sitting. Recycle the can and return the toppers to the store for a refund.

And don’t drink diet-soda, real Coke is the best!

Squirrels confuse me. They just can’t make up their mind.

After all the rain last weekend, the squirrels took over my yard. They raced through the branches of my trees and they jumped from limb to limb. It was like they were playing tag, using my roof for their playground. I could hear the pitter patter of their feet as they ran across the shingles.

I almost joined them, but I would have fallen from the roof, so I tossed out the idea. But oh the view, if I’d only gone up to the rooftop.

But I must ask. Why are squirrels compelled to sit on the side of the road, waiting for cars? After all, they dart out into the highway and cause havoc.

Not long ago, a squirrel ran out in front of the SUV in front of me. I expected to see a flattened, bloody little critter flying out from beneath the vehicle.

Instead I watched this furry four-legged creature do a somersault and a triple-axle. He concluded his exhibition by skating through the air and he landed upright on the asphalt in front of me.

He looked my way and smiled. Yes, he grinned, right before he ran to the side of the road, readying to do it all over again.

If squirrels would stay on the rooftops or up in the trees, they could enjoy the best view, only these critters prefer the danger of the road.

I’ve done my best to not hit them, but over the years, I’ve ran over a few. And every time, I cry. I can’t stand inflicting sudden death and pain on these sweet little critters, especially the ones that smile at me.

I think humans are somewhat like squirrels, we’re dashing from task to task. We run in circles and our playground of life is filled with so much tail chasing we get lost and can’t find our way to the other side of the road.

We are doing triple axels and it’s like we’re darting to and fro, only to find ourselves back on the side of the road the next day, ready to start all over again.

What about the view? When did you last count a star? Or name one after someone?

When did you rise early to see the sunrise? Or sit in the shade and watch squirrels play?

That’s why I love Zacheeus in the Bible, because this guy wanted to find the best view and he literally went out on a limb for Jesus.

Sure, he was a squirrelly man from Jericho, a tax collector who’d gotten rich by cheating others. When he heard that Jesus was coming to town, he wanted to get a look, to check out this guy who was creating a playground of hope in people.

So Zacheeus ran, climbed up a sycamore tree and waited.

Now, I’m not sure what made Jesus look up, but that fact is; he did. He saw this squirrely guy hanging on a branch and said, “Come down. I’m coming to your house today.”

Of everyone in the crowd, Jesus picked the guy in the tree that day. 

Jesus loves squirrely folks like Zacheeus and since we all have a little bit of squirrel in us, it’s refreshing to know Jesus longs to hear the pitter patter of our heart. As we run to him, the good news is, most likely we will never have to climb a tree or go out on a limb to find him, since he’s looking for each of us on the side of the road.

However it may take a somersault of faith before you can land on your feet.

I happened into my kitchen last week, the room where my stove cries from boredom at not being used.

It’s also the place where only the microwave knows its function. While in there, I discovered a drawer full of utensils begging to find their way into bowls, skillets and pans.

As I cracked open a drawer, some of the spoons screamed at me, “Stir me. Pick me up. Use me.” Even a couple of forked prongs dove at me in a desperate move to get out of the drawer.

I grabbed a knife, a cutting board, a spoon, and a skillet. What utensil was next? In the pantry, I’d found some diced tomatoes, so I grabbed the can opener, yes, the one singing a tune of joy.

I pulled out several cans of chili beans and saw a packet of chili seasoning. Chili! I would make chili!

Not until that moment, did I know for sure what my hands were creating!

What I love about my kitchen adventure is, the fact that my kitchen utensils danced with delight at having rediscovered their purpose. I find inspiration in such things, because I see myself at times like a big spoon tossed away.

Or maybe, I’m the spatula longing to spread the frosting of goodness to others, only to be hidden in a maze of leftovers.

We are designed to stir, to dip, to taste the goodness of the Lord, thus passing on his blessings to others. We have a purpose, only people like me should do it in other rooms beside the kitchen!

So are you stuck in the drawer of bad decisions? Canned into a place like a dark pantry? Have you forgotten how seasoned life can be?

It’s not too late. We can stir up his goodness, we can be used by God. Just call out to him and say, “Stir me. Pick me up. Use me.”

But be ready, the crock pot of life can often be hot and spicy. However it is quite tasty and ever so full-filling!

One summer, I worked as a checker at grocery store, didn’t work out. Dropping food and running orders together was a problem.

Worked in their deli, splattered food and shake mix on the wall. Didn’t work out.

Spent some time in the candy department with the popcorn machine. Couldn’t weigh candy, and couldn’t make popcorn so when the sprinklers went off from burning popcorn, I got yet another post in this store.

Ended up in their restaurant, seating folks and making toast. Oh, to be trusted with making buttered toast and handing folks their menu!

All I can say, I’m still here and God has loved me through my messes, a few fires, and a few smoke filled situations.

The best part is, I’m no surprise to him. Although, I’ve surprised a few bosses along the way!

Moral: Persevere. Keep your resume updated. And always trust God for the journey of a lifetime, a new job and the hope of tomorrow!

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Click on the link above to see if your pastor lost anyone during a baptism lately! Or better yet tell your pastor how much you appreciate him!

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. At a specific point in the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without anything to say, he wrote in the sand: “TODAY, MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.”

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who got slapped and hurt started drowning, and the other friend saved him.

When he recovered from the fright, he wrote on a stone: “TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE.”

The friend who saved and slapped his best friend, asked him, Why, after I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now you write on a stone?”

The other friend, smiling, replied: “When a friend hurts us, we should write it down in the sand, where the winds of forgiveness get in charge of erasing it away, and when something great happens, we should engrave it in the stone of the memory of the heart, where no wind can erase it.”

I thought everyone knows Joyce Meyer, a Bible teacher who speaks to hearts. She deals openly with my messy attitudes and often addresses my motives and my emotions. She tells me that I can live with integrity and she challenges me to enjoy everyday life, not just vacations but each day.

On a trip to one her conferences, I wanted to be alone, to sleep late, to eat whatever I wanted at any time or hour. All was going as planned … until I met the two ladies from El Dorado, Ark.

As the hotel elevator door closed, I found myself alone with them. We smiled and offered the traditional elevator greetings. Their smiles told me they were excited about their outing.

When they discovered that I had traveled alone, that we lived near each other, they did something awful, the two ladies proceeded to become my friend.

How dare they? I’d come all this way, booked my private room and planned my three-day excursion. I simply wanted to be by myself, alone.

On the first night, they invited me to a late night Earl Grey tea party in their room. I kindly declined the offer.

The following day, they slipped a note under my door inviting me to lunch.

Then that night, my phone rang and they wanted to know if I’d ride over to Lakewood Church with them for the second session.

How dare these two women show kindness to me?

I’d turned down the tea the night before and I rejected their offer for a meal, but their relentless efforts to befriend me, wore me down, so I accepted the ride.

I was drawn to their joy and after a few minutes in the car, I wanted to be with them, to laugh, to talk, to engage in conversation. Gosh, being alone is so overrated!

We got lost in the underground garages beneath the church. It was like an entire city existed underground, and we laughed like four-year olds as we circled the same area.

Once we parked, we strolled in like kids on a hunt for the best seat in the house.

We shopped at the resource tables for an hour. We worshiped with the band Hillsong and eventually listened to Joyce Meyer deliver some awesome Bible teaching.

And the best part is, I’d made new friends!

Sure, I longed for some down time, but God knew I needed fun and fellowship more than I need sleep or junk food and he sent me two wonderful gals from Arkansas to bless me!

Their kindness was as natural as sipping tea from a cup! To think, it took two ladies from Arkansas to teach me how to enjoy everyday life!

These days, I keep Earl Grey tea in the cupboard. I never want to forget how precious a cup of friendship is and how it warms the heart!

If you want to hide in a crowd, never wear a red pant-suit to a church service.

See, I’d scouted out this tall lanky blue-eyed worship leader during a revival nearly 30 years ago. Okay, actually I was simply going because a friend had told my mom about this single man whose voice and life measured up to the things on my list, except for the fact that he wore boots.

When I first saw him from the pew, his voice shook the stained glass window of my heart. I sensed a rejoicing, a fresh feeling and my soul whispered a prayer, one I’d rehearsed many times before, “God let this guy be the song of my heart.”

After the service (no, I have no idea what the preacher said, I was lost in a world of anticipation) the man I was scouting, walked up and said, “I just need to find out if this young lady is single.”

On our first real conversation he asked me if Jesus was my Savior! Never in my life, had a man asked me such a question! This guy not only sang about Jesus, but he loved him too!

We’ve been married 27 years this October. I’ll always remember the small church and the day when God cared so much for me, he sent me Ray, my husband, the joy of my life. And yes, I’ve gotten over the fact that he wears boots from time to time.