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Hope After The Oklahoma Tornado

May21

found dogI just watched a little clip from an Oklahoma news station (Tornado survivor finds dog during live interview) after the terrible tornado that tore through Moore, Oklahoma and surrounding areas. An elderly woman was talking very matter-of-factly about sitting in a small bathroom with her little dog in her lap when the tornado hit. She did what she was supposed to do, survived the storm, and then called for her little dog. She got no response.

As the reporter continued asking questions, someone on the camera crew notices some movement, or maybe a small sound–it’s hard to tell from the video. But someone notices a dog. As the camera turns, you can just see in the darkness of a hole in the rubble this little, gray miniature Schnauzer face. It’s the woman’s dog. Overjoyed at finding him alive, the woman asks for help uncovering him, and out he walks, probably frightened, a little dirty, but very much alive.

The woman, with softly spoken words of “bless your little bitty heart” to her dog, acknowledges that God didn’t just answer one prayer, by letting her be OK, but He answered both of them. A ray of hope amidst unbelievable destruction. There she stood, amidst the detritus of her former life–her entire neighborhood–and she knows that God is good.

It’s not just a matter of being an optimist, it’s a matter of having faith in a God who has proven Himself over and over again. Yes, bad things happen. But God is good.

And a little dog helps to show it.

Thankful today for:

886. glimmers of hope

887. healing rain

888. 4 more teaching days of school

889. the chance to stay at the Grand Hotel (location for the movie “Somewhere in Time”) in June

890. graduations

photo from CBS.com

A Fishy Lesson For Parents

Apr21

IMG_1938

(I had the privilege last week of having this article posted on the website for Campus Crusade’s global women’s ministry, after it first appeared on a blog for hurting parents (see Hope for Hurting Parents). I wanted to share it with you all. The second part about Romans 12:12 I posted several months ago here.)

A few months ago, my family and I purchased two angelfish for our aquarium. My kids named them Michael and Gabriel, of course. They have been a beautiful addition to our community tank.

Well, about a month later, we got the surprise of the week: angelfish eggs! We had no idea. Evidently, Gabriel needed to be renamed Gabriella. I texted my fish-guru friend and got some advice, and we hoped for the best from this batch.

There was advice aplenty on the internet, and most people said to expect these first-time parents to eat their fry. They’d get better with each spawning. They laid the eggs on the filter intake tube, so chances were the tiny fry would get sucked up in the filter, if the parents didn’t eat them first. Or the other fish. There was danger everywhere in the tank. Why didn’t we know this? We were so unprepared to be fish parents.

Sixteen years ago we were also unprepared to be actual parents. Kids don’t come with owner’s manuals. All we could do was pray and trust that God loved our kids more than we ever could.

 Things didn’t work out so well for our fishies. One morning, all the eggs were gone. And sometimes, in our own parenting, things don’t work out as we hope and pray they will. But God is still God, and we have a hope to hold onto.

May Romans 12:12 give you hope that God is there.  He hears you and He’s holding your wandering child close to His heart, whether they like it or not.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Romans 12:12).

Joyful: full of joy, as a person or one’s heart; glad; delighted.

Hope: The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

“But may the righteous be glad and rejoice before God; may they be happy and joyful. Sing to God, sing praise to His name, extol Him who rides on the clouds – His name is the Lord rejoice – before Him (Psalm 68:3,4).

Patient: bearing provocation, annoyance, misfortune, delay, hardship, pain, etc., with fortitude and calm and without complaint, anger, or the like.

Affliction: a state of pain, distress, or grief; misery

“I wait patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord” (Psalm 40: 1-3).

Faithful: steady in allegiance or affection; loyal; constant

Prayer: a spiritual communion with God . . . as in supplication, thanksgiving, adoration, or confession.

“To the faithful You show Yourself faithful, to the blameless You show Yourself blameless, to the pure You show Yourself pure” (Psalm 18: 25, 26).

Which of the three: Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Romans 12:12) is hardest for you?

Why do you think that is? Where have you seen God’s faithfulness in the midst of your struggle?

 

Life is Precious, Life is Sweet

Apr17

life

“Life is sacred, that is to say, it is the supreme value, to which all other values are subordinate.”

― Albert Einstein

When life isn’t held sacred, as Einstein says, we really shouldn’t be surprised when it is taken so casually. Bombs, abortions, mass shootings, stabbings and the like. My soul is weary of the turmoil it encounters every day. But we don’t consider life sacred in this country. When people get too old to be “useful,” we forget them in nursing homes. When someone is severely handicapped, we speak of euthanasia. If a child is unwanted by its mother, we do away with it.

I, along with many, have been appalled at the revelations coming out of the Kermit Gosnell case in Philadelphia. It’s horrific. And on top of that, we struggle to understand the motivations of those who would plant bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Did you know that a group of families from Newtown, Conn., all touched by the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, was there participating? Thank God they had all finished the race, and their families were out of the grandstands and back at their hotel, before the bombs went off. I can’t even imagine what was going through their minds.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

— Jesus of Nazareth (as recorded in the Gospel of John, chap. 10, verse 10).

Satan is a thief, and a liar. He steals everything that is of value to us, and the chief of that is life.

Outlawing guns won’t help. Tighter controls on abortion clinics won’t help. The Boston bomber used pressure cookers, for crying out loud! Only Jesus will cause all things to be new. Only Jesus will turn hearts from evil.

My heart is heavy for those who lost loved ones, limbs and eventually, if we keep going the way we are, their liberty.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:35-37).

My prayers go out to all those affected by tragedies, conspiracies, the hand of evil and the acts of someone else’s will. That covers just about everyone, doesn’t it?

Rocking a Mile in His Chair

Apr7

rocking chair

Today, April 9th, marks the 7th anniversary of my dad’s death. I vividly remember the call from my mom. She asked me if I was sitting down. That’s classic, isn’t it? My first thought was that she had found out some bad news about her health; she was suffering with pancreatic cancer at the time, diagnosed just 6 months before. What she said instead came as a complete shock: Dad was dead.

Just a week or so before they had returned from a cruise. Just that weekend they had gone on their annual getaway  with the group of friends they had known since college. Apparently, they had come in from that weekend just that day. Dad didn’t feel very good, so he went into the living room and sat down in his favorite rocking chair. Several minutes later, Mom went to check on him, and he was dead.

My dad was an alcoholic. He had congestive heart failure and high blood pressure. It had only been a short while ago that he had almost died falling down the stairs at their house and then gone through alcohol withdrawal while recovering in the hospital.

But I was still shocked to hear that he was dead. What I found out later was that Mom hadn’t exactly been forthright with us about his health. Even on their cruise the week before they had called 911 from the hotel before they embarked. Apparently, the EMTs were frequent visitors, and I knew nothing about it. It’s hard being more than 2,000 miles away. She didn’t want us to worry.

My dad was not a touchy-feely, hugging, emotion-revealing kind of guy. I can probably count the times he told me he loved me on one hand. That used to make me really angry. Girls need their dads to lavish them with love so that they grow up secure in their identity as females, confident of who they are as women. I didn’t get that, and I felt gipped.

And then I look at the rocking chair that now sits in my bedroom–the one that was given to my parents when I was born–the one in which my dad took his final breath–and I try to see things from his perspective. I try to rock a mile in his chair.

He grew up the only child of older parents, and, if my grandfather was with him anything like he was with us, he didn’t get much huggin’ in his home either. I imagine he didn’t get many compliments or encouragement.

He always felt that he married up and that he never really fit in with my mom’s family, never fully felt the approval of her parents.

He worked in an industry that was constantly growing and changing, and therefore he went through many job changes and many seasons of being out of work.

He had three kids in four years–that’s enough to drive anyone a little crazy–and another 7 years later. The financial responsibilities that were on  him were great, and not helped by his desire to live a lifestyle that he felt would allow my mom to maintain her place in society. Or so he perceived.

And frankly, he didn’t handle it well. The drinking grew worse, the jobs became less steady, and the downward spiral of depression and alcoholism finally took their toll. To look at him on the outside, you really wouldn’t know it was that bad. He could laugh, he drove a nice car, he loved to travel. But I think inside was a sad boy who never got the kind of love he deserved.

I miss my dad. I’m not mad at him anymore. I sit in his favorite chair and remember what he was like before the pressure got too bad. He used to take me to Golden State Warrior games for my birthday. He loved college football games and he and Mom had season tickets to the Cal Bears. He loved cars, he flew small planes, he sailed, he collected Kodak cameras and loved to take pictures, he loved traveling and eating fine food. And I’m sure he loved his kids; he just didn’t know how to express it.

Love you, Dad. Hope to see you in heaven. And when I see you, I’m going to give you a big hug.

Thankful today for:

851. the opportunity to go work with my husband out of town

852. a son with a driver’s license

853. good students, both the ones I teach and the ones I parent

854. no more lows in the 40s

855. dinner parties

856. close grocery stores

857. an abundance of choices

858. free stuff

859. hope

860. my sweet 4-year-old nephew whom I hardly ever get to see 😦

Guest Post: Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

Mar14

I’m privileged today to share some words from my new blogger friend, Julie. One of the cool things about meeting Julie for me was to find out that we have things in common from a long time ago. Julie writes today on a topic that is hard for nearly everyone in America–waiting. You can read more from Julie at her blog: www.thesandersplanet.com.

When Jesus reached the spot, He looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately.  I must stay in your house today” (Luke 19:5).

Image I remember waiting for the bus to take me to ballet class.  Mom taught piano lessons after school, and I wanted to dance.  So, even though I was 13 or 14, I took the bus.

Shiny cars zoomed by as I sat on the bench alongside Whittier Blvd.  Everyone moved with direction and purpose, the traffic thick with exhaust fumes and rattling mufflers.  I seemed to be the only one waiting.

Of course, if I wanted to catch the bus, I had to get there before it arrived.  The bus driver wouldn’t wait for me.  He didn’t know I would be there.  He would just pass by the spot if the bench was empty.

Waiting for him was the only way to be sure that I’d be there when he got to the bus stop.

So, with bag of toe shoes and leg warmers in hand, I’d wait.  And even though everyone else around me hurried by, I knew that to get where I wanted to go, I’d wait.  Waiting wasn’t fun, but dancing was.  The hope of dancing was worth the wait.

How like Zaccheaus.

Zaccheaus knew what he wanted.  He wanted to see who Jesus was.  He was curious. He wanted a glimpse.

But his height, or lack of it, hindered him.  So he ran ahead to a tree along the road, scrambled up and waited.  He waited for whom he knew was coming.  He got way more than he expected.

First, he did get to see Jesus. From his tree branch, he had a clear view over the heads of the crowd. That was all he wanted—curiosity satisfied.  But then, he also got Jesus’ attention.  At that spot, Jesus looked at him and called him by name and invited Himself to dinner.

From then on, Zaccheaus needed more than just his curiosity satisfied.  He needed his soul satisfied.  Jesus would turn Zach’s world upside down, inside out, forever changed.

All from waiting alongside the road Jesus was taking.

I want to wait like that—expectant.

Instead of impatient because it seems answers are taking too long.  Instead of anxious because I wonder if God remembers us.  Instead of fearful because what Jesus asks of us might be hard.

I want to wait knowing that whatever God has planned for us will be way better than what we’re hoping for, way more than what we expected.

There’s a spot; a place where Jesus will look at me and call me by name and invite me to feast.  And if I’m not willing to wait, I might miss Him when He passes by.

So maybe waiting is less about biding my time and more about positioning myself to see Jesus.

Thanks, Zaccheaus.  I’ll take that.

Julie Sanders just recently entered the blogging world, but she’s loved the world of creative communication for most of her life.  She and her husband have worked with Keynote, the music and creative arts ministry of Cru,  for nearly 20 years, performing and training performers around the world.  They and their 3 currently live in Orlando and are waiting to see what new adventure the Lord is writing into their stories.