Failure to Yield

Starting my day with a traffic court appearance was an eye-opener, to say the least.

I hadn't really known what to expect when a recent citation after a morning fender bender demanded my presence at court. I got there early, as I didn't want to start things off poorly with the judge by showing up late. I needn't have worried; the judge was nowhere to be seen. Or perhaps it's standard procedure for His Honor not to show until 40 minutes after the slated hour. Even after he had entered the courtroom, procedural business and various matters took up his attention for quite some time. In fact, it wasn't until we had been sitting before him for two full hours that he was finally ready to tackle the traffic citations awaiting his attention.

He pointed to a man sitting in the front row of chairs and asked his name. Learning that his last name was Stevens, he then directed any of us whose last name began with a letter between “S” and “Z” to line up along the side wall in alphabetical order and await his attention.

It turned out to be an instruction too difficult for us to handle. Three men apparently desperate to get out of the place arose and moved to get in line, making no effort to communicate with each other to follow the judge's instructions. One by one he called them forward, only to find that none of them had last names that fell in the appropriate range. He ranted and raved and berated the men for not following his instructions, repeating them more loudly with each offender. One by one, red-faced and humiliated, they shuffled back to their seats to try again later.

Exasperated himself, the judge next asked for those whose last names began with A through L to line up and arrange themselves in the proper order. Finding myself in that category, I eagerly jumped up and moved to do so. The rest of the group sat in stunned silence; only one other man got up along with me. Learning that his last name began with a “C”, I stepped in front of him and awaited the judge's invitation to step to the platform.

What struck me as most unusual about the strange morning was the judge's method of calling us forward. Surely it would have been much easier to just call us by name as he worked through the stack of folders before him. Perhaps he wanted to reward the man who was brave enough to sit in the front row by taking his case first. Or maybe he needed to relieve the boredom of his job by shaking things up a little bit. Regardless, he put the burden of getting ourselves in proper order on us.

And that, I realized, was what the morning was all about. Over and over I saw people whose lives were out of line stand before a judge and try to make things right. Some had entered treatment programs and were commended for their positive efforts. Others had parents with them to show a strong support system. Many asked for more time to hire lawyers, pay fines, or somehow get their lives back on track. The problem, as was painfully obvious this morning, is that we can't accomplish that feat on our own...and we are running out of time.

Not expecting to be in the courtroom for the length of time that I was, I was painfully aware towards the end of the experience that my parking meter had expired some 45 minutes earlier. As it turned out, my business took no time at all to accomplish. I gave my “no contest” plea to the failure-to-yield charge against me and finally exited the courthouse with $165 less in my bank account than when I'd entered three hours earlier.

It was a good reminder, however, that as the world as we know it accelerates toward end time events, our own final court appearance looms ever closer, a day when we will stand before God Almighty and be judged  according to the lives we have led. Happy then will we be if at some point we turned them over to Jesus, our Advocate, who will stand beside us and declare our debt to have been paid in full on the basis of His actions alone. Should we instead on that day find ourselves having failed to yield control of our lives to the One who loved us and died for us, it will cost us a whole lot more than a few dollars out of our pocket and hours out of our day.

“And all nations shall be gathered before Him. And He shall separate them from one another, as a shepherd divides the sheep from the goats. And  indeed He shall set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats off the left. Then the King shall say to those on His right hand, Come, blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…Then He also shall say to those on the left hand, Depart from Me, you cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the Devil and his angels…And these shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into everlasting life.”

(Matthew 24:32,33,34,41,46)

Looking for Light(ning Bugs)

It’s been a good year for lightning bugs.

One of my summertime delights is to grab a cup of coffee and sit on my porch step in the settling darkness, looking for the little beams of life and light that rise from the grass of the front yard to the sky. It’s a moment of peace and tranquility that I carve out for myself if ever I’m home at that time of night. With late night work schedules and a packed calendar on my days off, those moments seem to be increasingly hard to find. Even on those seemingly free evenings there are duties galore demanding my attention, but I work with one eye on the clock and stop just after the sun goes down for that half-hour time slot that is so easy to miss.

A schedule change found me unexpectedly at home last night, and I knew in my heart what I wanted to do. When nine o’clock rolled around I got the coffee ready, and then minutes later I stepped out of my busy life for a few minutes, leaving Game 7 of the basketball finals going strong on TV, the basket of laundry to be folded beside the coffee table still overflowing, and the piles of clean clothes waiting to be put away left in my wake.

The quiet I sought wasn’t to be found outside, either. Several loud BOOMs echoed up and down the street as a neighbor tested his fireworks inventory for an upcoming Fourth of July celebration. The lady across the street yelled repeatedly at her dog, even as her father-in-law on his motorcycle roared out of the driveway and headed on home. A train’s horn blasted across the countryside as it approached the nearby small town. One by one I shut out the distractions and focused on the little lights rising to the sky.

My spirit did the same, rising to meet the Friend who waits to meet with me in those moments that I set aside specifically to pursue and enjoy our friendship. Together we reflected on the day gone by, what I had done, and the things I didn’t find time to do. Deliberately we looked for those moments that surprised us, delighted us, or were somehow worthy of a second look, a rerun on the mental video screen.. A firm believer of ending the day on a happy note, I followed the Biblical mandate to think on things that were pure and good and lovely. My days are simply filled with little moments of God’s light and presence, glimmers of life and hope and happiness that rise in the darkness surrounding me, and it’s those that I look for to reflect upon when I step outside of my noisy, busy world for a moment and notice them as deliberately as I do the fireflies.

I’m grateful that it’s been a good year for both.

“And he said, Go forth and stand on the mountain before Jehovah. And behold, Jehovah passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains, and broke the rocks in pieces before Jehovah. But Jehovah was not in the wind. And after the wind was an earthquake, but Jehovah was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake was a fire, but Jehovah was not in the fire. And after the fire was a still, small voice.”

(1 Kings 19:11-12 MKJV)

Vacation Vibes

“I’m leaving, on a jet plane…”

Goodness, how that song dates me! But it’s true. I’m headed off today, flying even as I type, headed for a family wedding in Phoenix. I’ve been in vacation mode since the start of the week, but it’s this trip that changes mere days off from work into a vacation in every sense of the word. There’s something about packing the sunscreen, the bathing suit, and mentally planning one’s wardrobe rather than a dinner menu by the days of the week that puts a smile on a face and a skip in a step. Who doesn’t love a few days away?

This morning we set out, having kissed the dogs and the duties goodbye, all but cheering as we headed up the drive. Determined to enjoy every moment of the trip, we marveled at springtime blossoms that lined the roadways, pointed at farmers busy in their fields, and discussed the chances of running into rain as we headed for darker skies ahead of us. Parking at the airport was no problem, and we had barely gotten out of the vehicle when a bus pulled up to transport us to the terminal. It was all systems go through security, to the gate, through the wait for the boarding call. And that’s when all forward progress stopped as we learned the airplane had suffered mechanical problems of some sort and was only just leaving distant Dallas for the people waiting to board in Indianapolis.

A change in plans. No matter; there just had to be a few changes made to the itinerary. A few phone calls later it was all systems go again. We’ll board a different flight in Dallas, meet the family at a different location in Phoenix, and still have a fantastic time on the journey.

Now we’re on the plane. I took a quick nap, reminding my husband to nudge me should I snore. When I woke up thirsty, it was just in time to see the refreshment cart rolling down the aisle. In short, there hasn’t been much to dampen my mood. Watching cotton-ball clouds float by outside, I note that emotionally I’m flying as high as the airplane I’m riding in.

My life follows pretty much the same course as my travel diary entries above. It’s a journey, as well, and some would say I’m pretty much in vacation mode all the time. I haven’t had to struggle with many of the things other people have to deal with, and while I’m grateful, I also feel a little guilty at times about my good fortune. Just yesterday my good mood wanted to express itself in a particularly joyous Facebook post, but I held back, noting that some of my social networking friends who might be reading the online news feed were at that moment struggling with life-threatening illnesses in a hospital, dealing with the threat of divorce, struggling to keep businesses afloat and children out of jail. Aside from personal problems there were ones of national interest as well filling the news feeds, a huge tornado having just touched down near Oklahoma City causing loss of life and the devastation of a large area. Maybe it wasn’t the moment to be so happy…or certainly not to talk about it.

But perhaps I am happy for such a moment as this. Sometimes people need to see the sun streaming through a break in the dark clouds surrounding them to give them a bit of relief from the darkness and instill some hope for better days ahead. Perhaps when we’re joyful it’s not just for our own benefit but to bless and encourage somebody who’s traveling through life on the same flight as we are but might be having a much more difficult time.

Our captain just announced that our flight is in a holding pattern, bad weather ahead preventing our landing at the present time. He assures us we have plenty of fuel to ride out the storm below. Some lives surrounding me are in that same place - circling without making much progress toward their destination.  A smile on a face is not out of place when it fuels patience in travel companions to smoother skies and a safe arrival at the final destination.

“A merry heart does good like a medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones.”
(Proverbs 17:22 MKJV) 

Hospital Hallways

“That office is in the North Wing,” the diminutive volunteer behind the information desk told me. “Take this hallway till it ends and turn left. Take that one to the end and turn left again. At the end of that hallway, turn right. ”

Bravely I set out in the direction the aged lady’s withered hand had feebly waved. I had been lost like this in the hospital before; each previous time I had accidentally run into a friend who worked there and she simply guided me to where I needed to go. There was no sign of her today, however; I was clearly on my own.

At long last I found my way and finally turned the knob on the door to the appropriate office, only to be stopped by an attendant at a nearby desk.

“You sign in over here,” he said. I took the clipboard he held out to me, sat down in a nearby chair and answered the few questions, then stood to return it to him. Told to keep the paper and remain seated until my name was called, I obediently sat back down. A few minutes later in a ridiculously loud voice, considering I was the only person seated before him, he called my name. “You can go to Desk 4,” he directed.

Looking about I saw only empty chairs in the area, and nothing resembling a desk. Forced again to ask for directions, he somewhat disgustedly pointed me to a bank of registration booths I had obliviously walked by in my search for the proper department.  At long last I was given permission to go to through the door, only to be greeted by a lonely technician who clearly had had no one to talk to all day. There was no way I could hurry her along as she chatted endlessly about her children, an upcoming anniversary celebration, and the quarreling taking place between her siblings now that her parents had died.

All I wanted was my mammogram. Was there no easy way to get this thing done? No wonder I waited so long since my last one; I must have subconsciously remembered the difficulty involved in the procedure. Save me!, I pleaded in my heart to God.

Sometimes we make the process of finding God as difficult for non-believers as getting my x-rays today was for me. They walk into our churches looking for what they know they need, and too often we just give them vague directions and wave them in the direction they need to go, using a language they are unfamiliar with and landmarks they don’t recognize. When they move forward in their faith we have a tendency to stop them and make sure they have followed all the proper procedures, filling out contact information, signing up for the proper introductory class, and joining the proper home fellowship group. We chat them up like old friends instead of addressing the issue that brought them through the doors in the first place, forcing them to eventually voice their need in a soundless prayer to God,  Save me, please!

And just that quickly, He does, despite our bumbling and the unintentional roadblocks we set up to the process. What God meant to be easy we have somehow turned into something incredibly difficult. It‘s no wonder the lost and hurting are sometimes reluctant to walk through church doors. 

What I needed yesterday afternoon at the hospital was the friend I trusted to show me the way. She told me later she was stuck in a lab that afternoon and so wasn’t out wandering the halls as she usually is. And I am reminded that God needs us to be people on the lookout for others who are likewise searching for the door to His Presence, to take them to it instead of simply telling them how to find it, and then to leave them in prayer safely there in the Doctor’s care.

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.”
(Luke 19:10 NKJV)

Shopping Madness

A grocery store remodel is everybody’s nightmare. A shopper needing foil for the family barbecue or a forgotten item for dinner that is already on the stove once knew exactly where to find it and could be in and out in a matter of minutes. To rush in only to find that foil has inexplicably moved from Aisle 5 to the other end of the store frustrates them more than words can say. Some items are so mysteriously placed that it takes a whole host of store employees rushing around madly with lists in their hands before it can be found. Customers simply don’t buy the company line that we’re improving our store design with a better shopping experience for them in mind.

It’s no better on the employee end of things. Excited about the store’s coming new look and motivated to help the shoppers any way we can, the work week started off on a good note. But the continued customer dismay has worn everybody down. Anybody walking around with a blue company shirt on is a target for the shopper’s rage, and managers and assistants alike groan when they hear their names called to the front of the store for “customer service”. The pep in our step long gone, we now drag our way through the building, pasting a smile on our faces and trying our best to help the customers find what they need.

A people person by nature, I was initially delighted when I was assigned to be one of the roving clerks moving about the store assisting shoppers. A hard hat on my head, construction vest crossed by a black sash with the word INFORMATION splashed boldly across it, I set out with the list of relocated items in one hand and a basket of candy with which to mollify people in the other. By the end of the week my hard hat was long gone, I’d abandoned the vest, and the sash slipping continually off my shoulder prompted one person to tell me I looked like a drunken prom queen walking the aisles. I knew then that my struggle to keep my patience with irate patrons was beginning to show.

Thankfully God didn’t wait for me to bring the matter to His attention before He stepped in to act. Repeatedly and with impeccable timing He placed images in front of me that delighted or encouraged me. I looked up once just in time to see a little boy of 5 years old or so walk up to the display of baseball paraphernalia, pick up a stuffed doll of one of the players, hug it tightly to his chest, kiss it lightly on his cheek, and set it back down before following his parents on down the aisle. Knowing he was too young to know which player had that number stamped across his stuffed chest, I realized that moment of sweetness was really from God to me, and accepted it with joy in the toy’s place.

While I was working a register on a break from walking the store one day, the customer in front of me was suddenly moved to tears by the sight of my bagger working away as best he could despite his disabilities, a smile on his face and ever anxious to please. Too choked up to explain his emotion, we both understood God's reminder that our lives are simply blessed beyond measure, and the little irritation that comes with a store reset is nothing to complain about in the grand scheme of things. And repeatedly in recent days I’d look up to find one or another of my particular friends standing in front of me to chat and laugh for a minute as they made their way through the store, bursts of sudden sunlight in a temporarily darkened world. Later when frustration would set in again I’d go back to those moments and be encouraged and inspired all over again, as God intended.

The store remodel will be over in a matter of weeks, the new location of items committed to memory after that in just a matter of days. The important thing to keep in mind is the wonderful realization that the love and mercies of God never come to an end, but are new with every dawn to help us carry on with whatever we’re called to do in a manner worthy of Him.

“…be very patient with everybody [always keeping your temper]. See that none of you repays another with evil for evil, but always aim to show kindness and seek to do good to one another and to everybody. Be happy [in your faith] and rejoice and be glad-hearted continually (always)”
(1 Thessalonians 5:23)

Outgrowing my ZITS

There was a time when I wondered if it was going to happen, if there would really ever be a space of  time between the application of blemish-drying cream and anti-wrinkle lotion…a time in which I would enjoy the benefits of clear skin at long last. I simply had no choice but to wait my hormones out in anticipation of the day when I finally outgrew my zits.

Only last fall did I literally outgrow another ‘z-It in my life. My weight had ballooned to the point that I had no choice but to do something about it, and it was with real regret that I had to put the bright red box with Cheez-It written across the top aside.

It’s never been the sweet treats that have tempted me (my passion for frosted brownies a notable exception); I’ve always been one to favor the salty snacks. Add a taste of cheese to the mix and I’m done for. Such has been the case with my love for the little baked snack cracker. Normally a fan of cheaper alternatives and store brand substitutes, I’ve found that only the little orange squares made by Sunshine fit the bill. Their product has just the right combination of crispness, salt and cheese to overcome my self-control. I especially like the ones that are a little darker than usual, maybe just a bit burned around the edges. While people everywhere pray about a lot of things, I bet I’m the only shopper who asks the Almighty to direct her hand to the box on the shelf that is most likely to be filled with the same.

Lately I’ve had to ask Him to help keep my hand out of the box, a much more difficult task. You might ask why I didn’t just quit buying them altogether, and there are some things now that are indeed out of my life completely because of my lack of self-control where they were concerned. Instead I’ve learned a lot in the last six months about trade-offs, giving up something here to gain something else I want more down the road. The wisdom I’ve gained on the subject is worth more to me even than the weight I’ve lost.  I’ve learned that counting the cost, be it of calories or countless other temptations, is what keeps me on track for success in the long run. I also had to be accountable somehow, even if only to myself using the app I downloaded on the phone to keep my from cheating with Cheez-Its as well as in every other area of my life.

The appearance of a random blemish the other day reminded me that issues I need to deal with spiritually will likewise continue to pop up and demand corrective attention for as long as I live on this earth. God’s taught me that keeping my hand in His keeps it out of trouble altogether.

“Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel…And being with you, I desire nothing on earth.”
(Psalm 73: 23-25 NIV)

YEARNING For His Return

Bramasole.

I know. That’s a ‘B’ word and we‘re on ‘Y‘ today. But it's an Italian word that came to me in the middle of a cold winter in which it aptly described my mood. It means to yearn for the sun.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the “sun” in the definition that attracted me. It was the verb.

I know what yearning looks like. I’ve seen it in the life of my young friend, Heather, whose husband of just two years was recently deployed to Afghanistan. For ten long months she has looked for, longed for, anticipated and imagined his homecoming. She has yearned for his return.

Not that she hasn’t been busy in the interim. Surrounded by a group of extremely supportive friends, she’s occupied her time with the same things that fill most young adults’ days - working, shopping, watching movies, hanging out together in restaurants and various other recreational pursuits. But always somewhere in the back of her mind she’s been dreaming of the day her soldier walks back into her life and her arms. I’ve seen it on her face in slow moments at our grocery store jobs, an unguarded look that shows her mind and heart to be a million miles away…tears on her face over another holiday spent alone…and daydream-y posts on Facebook detailing things they’ll do once he’s back in the States. That moment is never far from her thoughts.

And now that day has arrived. He’s home and she’s happy, not that she’s hugged him yet. His first stop upon his arrival was a 10-day stay at an army base in Texas. But today he’s finally headed for Ohio to be reunited with his waiting wife. We’ve been counting down the days with her at work this last week or so, agonizing with her last night as her final shift before a week’s vacation dragged by every so slowly. Today she’s headed first to the salon to have her hair done, and then she’s off to pick him up. She’s been smiling for 24 hours straight, jumps when you talk to her, and laughs at everything that’s said. I couldn’t be happier for her.

But back to bramasole. I wrote the word and its definition in the Italian Words and Phrases to be Learned section of my journal, and suddenly laughed at the result. I had mistakenly written the word sun as son.

On second thought, I realized it wasn’t an error after all. It simply flowed out of a heart that is likewise looking for the return of a loved One who has been far away for a very long time. In the dark and dreary winter that our world has become, we’re yearning for the return of the Son who is coming for his Bride and will likewise carry her away.

Heather and her bridegroom are headed to the beach for a week. We get to spend eternity with ours. I’m simply counting the days.

“You also be patient, establish your hearts, for the coming of your Lord draws near.”
(James 5:8 MKJV)