Our Christmas season started the week of Thanksgiving with the birth of granddaughter Isabelle Faith Reis. She reminded us of the precious gift of life the baby Jesus brought. We know all the stories: the stable birth, the shepherds, the angels, the Wise men, but what about the Wise women? Three women bring their gifts to the story of the coming of a Savior.
First is Elizabeth, wife of a priest named Zechariah. She had no children and, now past child-bearing age, her sadness might have become bitterness whenever she saw a friend have a baby. Her husband had long since given up hope of a son and knew better than to even mention it to his wife. He’d find his joy in his work. Then, the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah he’d have a son, but the priest couldn’t get past the problem of his age and his wife’s barrenness. Gabriel got in the last word by taking Zechariah's power of speech away.
Imagine Zechariah’s dilemma as he tried to tell his wife with hand gestures that he was struck mute by an angel and she was about to become pregnant. Her sadness must have been replaced with anger, and perhaps some wonder about his sanity.
Elizabeth brings the gift of joy beyond all expectations to the Christmas story. God gave her her heart’s desire and changed her bitterness into joy.
Mary is the second Wise woman. Although barely old enough to become a mother, she was available to God and willing to set aside her own plans for her life for His plan for all generations. Mary brings the gift of life to the Christmas story. Mary went to Elizabeth’s home, and when Elizabeth saw her, her baby leaped in the womb. If Elizabeth had not been convinced before that she had a child within her, she knew now. Mary stayed until the baby John was born. How the young woman must have wondered if her own baby’s birth would be the same, in the company of family, with neighbors sharing the joy of the birth of a son.
Anna was a very old widow and prophetess who lived at the temple where Mary and Joseph brought their baby for his circumcision. For 84 years, she waited for God to make Himself known to her, and He did so in the child she met that day. We read of an insignificant encounter, barely mentioned, yet profoundly important to her. She brings the gift of faithful hope to the Christmas story.
The Wise men brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. The Wise women brought joy, life and hope, gifts that are renewed every Christmas season, and with the birth of every baby.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
For Want of a Sister
We have a friend who is a young college student in Ecuador. She has a dilemma: she may only date if she is chaperoned by an aunt. The problem is, her mother has no sisters.
She must carefully evaluate a young man she meets. She won't ask herself whether she likes him or if she might like to date him. She must consider whether he is worth the expense to her parents of hiring a doula.
I have 4 sisters, but we live too far apart to supervise our nieces' dating (for which, I am sure, they are very thankful). It almost seems a shame not to have the opportunity to more fully develop the relationship and roles of sister to something beyond being the children of the same parents.
Three years ago, I met a group of women in Atacucho, Ecuador. They struggle to feed, clothe and educate their children. They had no electricity or clean, potable water in their homes. Their babies often died of preventable illnesses before their first birthdays.
The members of my all-women's medical mission team pooled some money to help these women, and purchased beads for their necklace-making cottage industry. They requested we come up with a name for their project and we suggested: "Hermana a Hermana," Sister-to-Sister. We bought a few of their necklaces and helped them sell more.
Today, this women's co-op makes enough money to send their children to school. They have purchased 3 treadle sewing machines to makes clothing and purses to sell. They petitioned the local government and obtained electricity for their homes. They hold parenting classes and Bible studies in the church they helped to build. Because of their sisters, from another culture and land, they have hope for a better future for their children.
How do you define sisterhood? Is it a relationship of sharing yourself in serving others because you share the same Father? To borrow a phrase from Fred Rogers, "Won't you be my sister?"
She must carefully evaluate a young man she meets. She won't ask herself whether she likes him or if she might like to date him. She must consider whether he is worth the expense to her parents of hiring a doula.
I have 4 sisters, but we live too far apart to supervise our nieces' dating (for which, I am sure, they are very thankful). It almost seems a shame not to have the opportunity to more fully develop the relationship and roles of sister to something beyond being the children of the same parents.
Three years ago, I met a group of women in Atacucho, Ecuador. They struggle to feed, clothe and educate their children. They had no electricity or clean, potable water in their homes. Their babies often died of preventable illnesses before their first birthdays.
The members of my all-women's medical mission team pooled some money to help these women, and purchased beads for their necklace-making cottage industry. They requested we come up with a name for their project and we suggested: "Hermana a Hermana," Sister-to-Sister. We bought a few of their necklaces and helped them sell more.
Today, this women's co-op makes enough money to send their children to school. They have purchased 3 treadle sewing machines to makes clothing and purses to sell. They petitioned the local government and obtained electricity for their homes. They hold parenting classes and Bible studies in the church they helped to build. Because of their sisters, from another culture and land, they have hope for a better future for their children.
How do you define sisterhood? Is it a relationship of sharing yourself in serving others because you share the same Father? To borrow a phrase from Fred Rogers, "Won't you be my sister?"
Monday, September 29, 2008
Bailout: A New Perspective
“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” FDR
These days, it is hard for me to remember that both my husband and I have jobs, a comfortable house, more than enough food to eat, healthcare when we need it, safe, drinking water, electricity on demand, and the freedom to worship where and when we wish. We live better than 98% of the world’s population.
So, why get on board the worry train with politicians and the media? I can easily tie myself in knots over the state of the economy, the “bailout,” the stock market, the cost of gas and food, or whatever is the “worry du jour.” Then, I need to be reminded to look at these nagging concerns, fears and anxiety for what they really are: distraction. They keep me from focusing on what is really important in life.
The only bailout I need to think about is the one that happened about 2000 years ago on a hill outside Jerusalem. I’m not sticking my head in the sand, nor minimizing the very real pain many people are experiencing because of the economy, but I am trying to teach myself not to hit the panic button with every news report. I am choosing to lean on God, and trust His promises. Most importantly, I am working on my response to worry: no blood-pressure-rising knee-jerks, but steady, unfailing obedience to God’s purpose for me. My bailout involves walking by faith, rather than by sight, or fright.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Time Flies
This weekend, I experienced that feeling of time passing so quickly it slips through our fingers like water, yet also staying the same from year to year to year. Two daughters and one son and I travelled to IL for the 90th birthday of the children's grandmother Evy, (my former mother-in-law).
In the span of a few minutes, we visited the graves of my children's father and grandfather, then the house I lived in when the first two kids were babies, and "main street" Fairbury which was lined with people waiting for a homecoming parade. The house had changed enough that I passed it the first time. Trees that were saplings when we moved in thirty-five years ago now tower above the roofline, and the owners had added a front porch.
But the corn fields, the small town atmosphere, the horizon-to-horizon dark skies at night, the flies (which thankfully we don't have in FL), the crickets, and Evy never change. She has now been a part of my life for 37 years. Seems incredible. Yet there was also the sense of the fragility of life in this celebration. Evy speaks as if each day is very precious, and she might not celebrate many more birthdays, in spite of our promises to be with for her 100th birthday. How many great-granchildren will she have by then, we tried to guess?
She asked me to say the "Grace" at the family dinner. That was one of those "matriarch" moments. I am the second in line--oldest in my family and second oldest member of her family. I asked everyone to hold hands, to reach out to one another as individuals, and as one in a family. I thanked God for giving her to us and I know she was thanking Him for giving us to her.
So, hug the ones you love and hold them close today because life moves quickly, and we are here for just a blink of the eye in the universe's time. And what is most important is the love of family that transcends time.
In the span of a few minutes, we visited the graves of my children's father and grandfather, then the house I lived in when the first two kids were babies, and "main street" Fairbury which was lined with people waiting for a homecoming parade. The house had changed enough that I passed it the first time. Trees that were saplings when we moved in thirty-five years ago now tower above the roofline, and the owners had added a front porch.
But the corn fields, the small town atmosphere, the horizon-to-horizon dark skies at night, the flies (which thankfully we don't have in FL), the crickets, and Evy never change. She has now been a part of my life for 37 years. Seems incredible. Yet there was also the sense of the fragility of life in this celebration. Evy speaks as if each day is very precious, and she might not celebrate many more birthdays, in spite of our promises to be with for her 100th birthday. How many great-granchildren will she have by then, we tried to guess?
She asked me to say the "Grace" at the family dinner. That was one of those "matriarch" moments. I am the second in line--oldest in my family and second oldest member of her family. I asked everyone to hold hands, to reach out to one another as individuals, and as one in a family. I thanked God for giving her to us and I know she was thanking Him for giving us to her.
So, hug the ones you love and hold them close today because life moves quickly, and we are here for just a blink of the eye in the universe's time. And what is most important is the love of family that transcends time.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
ADULT TIME-OUT
True confession time: Want to know what I do when I am procrastinating? I clean. No, not the ordinary cleaning to keep my husband from complaining about cat hair balls on the living room carpet, nor the necessary cleaning so the Health Department won’t shut down our bathroom. Not even the annual cleaning—okay, semi-annual—cleaning out my closet.
When I am procrastinating, I clean my desk. If I am really desperate to avoid some project, I add the bookshelves in the closet next to my desk to my cleaning list.
Last year, I changed my nursing work schedule so that I have every Monday off as a “writing day.” I like to write and I always have three or four projects to work on, so why do I find myself procrastinating today? What is the problem driving me to dust behind the computer monitor?
Focus. It’s got to be focus. I’m having trouble with my focus. No, that’s not it. Motivation. I’m lacking motivation today. I wasted a Monday yesterday and unexpectedly, have today for writing. So, why am I not getting down to work? Motivation isn’t the problem.
It’s the balls. Specifically, all of the balls I juggle everyday as a wife, mother, grandmother, nurse, writer, photographer, mission leader, sister, friend and woman. Normally, these roles all flow together seamlessly as I cruise through life at warp speed. So, why am I hitting a speed bump today? Aren’t women wired to manage simultaneously multiple roles and responsibilities without batting an eye? We couldn’t raise children without being able answer the phone, stir the soup and step between a toddler and the cat he’s chasing all in one smooth, effortless motion. My husband cannot fathom how I can plug in the I-pod earbuds and read a book while I’m on the treadmill at the gym.
Are there times in our lives when we need to shut off speed control and focus? If God speaks to us in still, small whispers, do we need to take a time-out and listen?
A Time-out. Works for kids. “Go to your room and think about what you have done.” I’m smiling inside. I love my room. It’s neat-messy. On my desk are colorful paperclips, raspberry scrap paper and neon push pins. The bulletin boards are covered with stuff I couldn’t figure out where else to store. There’s a pen holder my granddaughters made with their pictures wrapped around it. The computer monitor displays my photos on the desktop. A handful of books sit within reach. There are three stacks of papers on the desk—two for current projects and one of to-be-filed papers. My clock actually ticks and the sound keeps the room from getting too quiet.
Thinking isn’t something I have a lot of time for. Certainly not something I’d waste time on. It’s my punishment today. But hey, thinking about what I have done is a wonderfully-affirming exercise. I have raised 5 children solo, single-handedly and proudly. And, they’ve given me 9+ wonderful grandchildren. I have five published books and have recently begun selling photographs. Last month, I made 93 cents from a new website. (in 150 years, I’ll be able to retire on that income!) I take on new projects fairly easily and love a challenge. But I’m also more of an idea person than a do-it worker-bee. I’m a list-maker. I’m a procrastinator.
When I am procrastinating, I clean my desk. If I am really desperate to avoid some project, I add the bookshelves in the closet next to my desk to my cleaning list.
Last year, I changed my nursing work schedule so that I have every Monday off as a “writing day.” I like to write and I always have three or four projects to work on, so why do I find myself procrastinating today? What is the problem driving me to dust behind the computer monitor?
Focus. It’s got to be focus. I’m having trouble with my focus. No, that’s not it. Motivation. I’m lacking motivation today. I wasted a Monday yesterday and unexpectedly, have today for writing. So, why am I not getting down to work? Motivation isn’t the problem.
It’s the balls. Specifically, all of the balls I juggle everyday as a wife, mother, grandmother, nurse, writer, photographer, mission leader, sister, friend and woman. Normally, these roles all flow together seamlessly as I cruise through life at warp speed. So, why am I hitting a speed bump today? Aren’t women wired to manage simultaneously multiple roles and responsibilities without batting an eye? We couldn’t raise children without being able answer the phone, stir the soup and step between a toddler and the cat he’s chasing all in one smooth, effortless motion. My husband cannot fathom how I can plug in the I-pod earbuds and read a book while I’m on the treadmill at the gym.
Are there times in our lives when we need to shut off speed control and focus? If God speaks to us in still, small whispers, do we need to take a time-out and listen?
A Time-out. Works for kids. “Go to your room and think about what you have done.” I’m smiling inside. I love my room. It’s neat-messy. On my desk are colorful paperclips, raspberry scrap paper and neon push pins. The bulletin boards are covered with stuff I couldn’t figure out where else to store. There’s a pen holder my granddaughters made with their pictures wrapped around it. The computer monitor displays my photos on the desktop. A handful of books sit within reach. There are three stacks of papers on the desk—two for current projects and one of to-be-filed papers. My clock actually ticks and the sound keeps the room from getting too quiet.
Thinking isn’t something I have a lot of time for. Certainly not something I’d waste time on. It’s my punishment today. But hey, thinking about what I have done is a wonderfully-affirming exercise. I have raised 5 children solo, single-handedly and proudly. And, they’ve given me 9+ wonderful grandchildren. I have five published books and have recently begun selling photographs. Last month, I made 93 cents from a new website. (in 150 years, I’ll be able to retire on that income!) I take on new projects fairly easily and love a challenge. But I’m also more of an idea person than a do-it worker-bee. I’m a list-maker. I’m a procrastinator.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Pennies from Heaven
Have you ever heard about “pennies from heaven?” According to some superstitious theory, if you see a penny lying on the ground, it could be from a loved one who has died and is trying to communicate with you. Well, if any of my family members are trying to talk to me from heaven, I wish they’d do it with $1000 bills instead of pennies.
A penny just isn’t worth much these days.
I used to pick them up when I saw them lying on the ground (especially when I was a single mom trying to feed five kids). I’d feel a little self-conscious as I bent to snatch it from the pavement. I’d wonder if what my kids said about heads or tails-up mattered, and I tried to divorce the mother-voice in my mind that warned me about germs swarming all over it, as if those coins already in my wallet were significantly cleaner.
So, putting aside the thought that dead people are trying to get my attention, why do I see pennies on the ground frequently? Am I just a lucky person following careless people who drop change in parking lots? Is there some meteorological phenomena that rains pennies instead of cats and dogs?
I think perhaps pennies on the pavement are a bit like rainbows in the sky. Rainbows remind me of God’s promise that He would never again destroy the world by flood. When I spot a penny lying in my path, I think of God’s blessings in my life. Some of them have been small, unexpected surprises, not worth a lot in the grand scheme of life, but reminders of His presence and His interest in me. A penny on the ground encourages me to thank Him when I find a convenient parking spot, or the elevator doors open just as I walk up, or a traffic light turns green at just the right moment. It’s these little things of life which we can never explain that are the real “pennies from heaven.” They add up to a lifetime of treasured moments with God.
A penny just isn’t worth much these days.
I used to pick them up when I saw them lying on the ground (especially when I was a single mom trying to feed five kids). I’d feel a little self-conscious as I bent to snatch it from the pavement. I’d wonder if what my kids said about heads or tails-up mattered, and I tried to divorce the mother-voice in my mind that warned me about germs swarming all over it, as if those coins already in my wallet were significantly cleaner.
So, putting aside the thought that dead people are trying to get my attention, why do I see pennies on the ground frequently? Am I just a lucky person following careless people who drop change in parking lots? Is there some meteorological phenomena that rains pennies instead of cats and dogs?
I think perhaps pennies on the pavement are a bit like rainbows in the sky. Rainbows remind me of God’s promise that He would never again destroy the world by flood. When I spot a penny lying in my path, I think of God’s blessings in my life. Some of them have been small, unexpected surprises, not worth a lot in the grand scheme of life, but reminders of His presence and His interest in me. A penny on the ground encourages me to thank Him when I find a convenient parking spot, or the elevator doors open just as I walk up, or a traffic light turns green at just the right moment. It’s these little things of life which we can never explain that are the real “pennies from heaven.” They add up to a lifetime of treasured moments with God.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
A Bad Day
My daughter shared with me that bad day she’d had. She started out the day having to press a pair of pants for her husband who was running late. That, in turn, made her late leaving for work. Getting out of her car, she stepped into an icy puddle which flooded her boots. She remembered she had an extra pair of white tights in her backpack and thought she’d put them on to warm her frozen feet. But when she pulled them out, she discovered a purple pen had exploded in her backpack and colored everything, including her white tights.
Where is God on a day when everything that can go wrong does?
Mary must have been having one of those days also. She had to leave the comforts of home to go on a long journey when all she wanted to do was stay warm and cozy in the nest of familiar surroundings. She rode on a donkey, slow, smelly and miserable, not to mention the baby that kicked with every plodding step of the trip. She was tired, hungry and sore when they arrived at their destination only to discover they had no place to stay.
Her husband managed to find a barn for the night, a dirty, musty, unpleasant place, but at least she was out of the weather, and they’d have a little privacy. But, her day was about to get a whole lot worse when her baby decided to be born in that stable.
Where was God on that day when everything that could go wrong did?
Where is God on a day when everything that can go wrong does?
Mary must have been having one of those days also. She had to leave the comforts of home to go on a long journey when all she wanted to do was stay warm and cozy in the nest of familiar surroundings. She rode on a donkey, slow, smelly and miserable, not to mention the baby that kicked with every plodding step of the trip. She was tired, hungry and sore when they arrived at their destination only to discover they had no place to stay.
Her husband managed to find a barn for the night, a dirty, musty, unpleasant place, but at least she was out of the weather, and they’d have a little privacy. But, her day was about to get a whole lot worse when her baby decided to be born in that stable.
Where was God on that day when everything that could go wrong did?
Monday, August 25, 2008
HEAV’N BEFORE US
While I was driving I noticed a license plate on the car ahead of me. It read “HEAV’N.” Am I glad I’m not in that car, I thought to myself. He has heaven behind him and I have heaven ahead of me. All day, I thought about life with heaven before me. Like driving, living with heaven before us involves certain rules of the road.
Stay within the speed limit. Life has both difficult and easy-going times. By racing through them, we lose the opportunity for the growth that accompanies challenges and the peace that comes with contentment. Learning to pace ourselves means living each day as it comes, neither borrowing trouble from tomorrow nor resting on yesterday’s accomplishments.
Do not cut off people, or pass them by. Being available to others requires us to give every moment and opportunity to God for the work of His kingdom. Listen to Him first, then to those who come in need of answers or help. Never hesitate to detour when someone asks for assistance.
Obey the rules. I would have had a difficult time following the car with “heav’n” on its license plate, if the driver had been weaving in and out of traffic, speeding, running stoplights, or leaving the road. Even though Paul reminds us we are not under the law but grace, we still have certain rules to guide everyday living so that we can arrive at our destination safely. Lead others with your actions. Telling them about God’s love is not nearly as effective as showing them.
Always wear your seat belt, or, as Paul wrote the Christians at Ephesus, gird yourselves with the belt of truth. Without the map found in Holy Scriptures, we can easily lose our way. The wise traveler recognizes the necessity of consulting the directions frequently, especially when the terrain is unfamiliar or challenging.
Let God take the wheel of your life. When I am driving, I know the way; I take the shortcuts; I know when and where to stop. With God in control, we sometimes go the long way, up hills, through tunnels and valleys, across bridges. He may go too fast or too slow for me and when I say, “Stop,” He often urges me to go just a little farther. As I learn to trust God at the wheel, I can concentrate on the adventure of the journey rather than the potholes ahead.
How do we live with heaven before us? Every morning as you climb into your car, ask God to take control of the wheel, the direction of the day, and the opportunities along the way.
Stay within the speed limit. Life has both difficult and easy-going times. By racing through them, we lose the opportunity for the growth that accompanies challenges and the peace that comes with contentment. Learning to pace ourselves means living each day as it comes, neither borrowing trouble from tomorrow nor resting on yesterday’s accomplishments.
Do not cut off people, or pass them by. Being available to others requires us to give every moment and opportunity to God for the work of His kingdom. Listen to Him first, then to those who come in need of answers or help. Never hesitate to detour when someone asks for assistance.
Obey the rules. I would have had a difficult time following the car with “heav’n” on its license plate, if the driver had been weaving in and out of traffic, speeding, running stoplights, or leaving the road. Even though Paul reminds us we are not under the law but grace, we still have certain rules to guide everyday living so that we can arrive at our destination safely. Lead others with your actions. Telling them about God’s love is not nearly as effective as showing them.
Always wear your seat belt, or, as Paul wrote the Christians at Ephesus, gird yourselves with the belt of truth. Without the map found in Holy Scriptures, we can easily lose our way. The wise traveler recognizes the necessity of consulting the directions frequently, especially when the terrain is unfamiliar or challenging.
Let God take the wheel of your life. When I am driving, I know the way; I take the shortcuts; I know when and where to stop. With God in control, we sometimes go the long way, up hills, through tunnels and valleys, across bridges. He may go too fast or too slow for me and when I say, “Stop,” He often urges me to go just a little farther. As I learn to trust God at the wheel, I can concentrate on the adventure of the journey rather than the potholes ahead.
How do we live with heaven before us? Every morning as you climb into your car, ask God to take control of the wheel, the direction of the day, and the opportunities along the way.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
S'mores
S'MORES
Ever have one of those days when your hopes and dreams are crushed? My daughter did.
She was on a team of five students working for several months after school on a special project. They had to build a bridge out of balsawood sticks. They had very strict instructions about its size, weight and shape. Their bridge was entered in a competition to see which one would hold the most weight without breaking. The students drew up plans, measured and cut the thin, lightweight wood and glued it all together. Then they carefully piled weights on the structures. Time after time, the bridges cracked and broke.
Weeks went by and the competition drew closer. They built bridge after bridge, each time learning something new about construction techniques and what shapes would hold the most weight. The competition also involved a skit which they acted out as they stacked the weights on their bridge. They wrote it and practiced it for hours. Finally, they perfected a plan and were satisfied that they had an award‑winning bridge and play.
We watched the other teams before us. The competition was fierce, but my daughter's team was confident. They presented their much‑rehearsed skit and carefully loaded their structure with weights. Fifty pounds, sixty pounds, seventy, eighty, only two other bridges had made it that far. Could they go to one hundred? Ever so slowly, they eased another ten‑pound weight on the pile. The bridge held and they moved a step closer to the record. Only one bridge had held more than that. They slid past the one hundred mark and were ahead! A two pound‑weight was added carefully. The bridge held at the 104 mark, then 106. At 108 pounds, they heard the sound of cracking. The bridge collapsed! But the students cheered. Though their bridge was smashed under a pile of weights, it held more than any other. They finished their skit and watched the rest of the competition nervously, certain of victory, but afraid someone else's structure might outdo theirs.
None did. None surpassed the 102 pound mark. However, the team's victory was overturned and they were disqualified because the judges believed one of the parents gave improper assistance. My daughter was as crushed as their balsawood bridge. She saw weeks of hard work smashed unfairly. Bitter tears fell as we gathered the splintered structure. I put every piece of wood in a paper bag and tried to comfort her. But she wasn't ready to listen.
The next day, I took her to a park near our home. Without explanation, I opened the two sacks I had brought along. There was a box of graham crackers and several chocolate bars, a bag of marshmallows and two long forks. In the other sack, the broken bridge. I laid the sticks in a charcoal grill and lighted them with a match. While they burned, my daughter loaded the forks with marshmallows and roasted them over the flames. When they were gooey and brown, we placed them on the graham crackers and sandwiched a chocolate bar between the crackers. You may have had this treat before; we call it "s'mores" because they are so good we always want s'more.
After we had eaten several, and the fire died down, I explained, "Sometimes life seems unfair. It doesn't always go the way we think it should or want it to. Your bridge was good, and no one can take away the experience of working as a team to learn how to build it. But the best thing about that bridge was the great fire it made for melting marshmallows and making s’mores. When something bad happens, God can take those unhappy circumstances, if we let Him, and make something good out of them.”
Ever have one of those days when your hopes and dreams are crushed? My daughter did.
She was on a team of five students working for several months after school on a special project. They had to build a bridge out of balsawood sticks. They had very strict instructions about its size, weight and shape. Their bridge was entered in a competition to see which one would hold the most weight without breaking. The students drew up plans, measured and cut the thin, lightweight wood and glued it all together. Then they carefully piled weights on the structures. Time after time, the bridges cracked and broke.
Weeks went by and the competition drew closer. They built bridge after bridge, each time learning something new about construction techniques and what shapes would hold the most weight. The competition also involved a skit which they acted out as they stacked the weights on their bridge. They wrote it and practiced it for hours. Finally, they perfected a plan and were satisfied that they had an award‑winning bridge and play.
We watched the other teams before us. The competition was fierce, but my daughter's team was confident. They presented their much‑rehearsed skit and carefully loaded their structure with weights. Fifty pounds, sixty pounds, seventy, eighty, only two other bridges had made it that far. Could they go to one hundred? Ever so slowly, they eased another ten‑pound weight on the pile. The bridge held and they moved a step closer to the record. Only one bridge had held more than that. They slid past the one hundred mark and were ahead! A two pound‑weight was added carefully. The bridge held at the 104 mark, then 106. At 108 pounds, they heard the sound of cracking. The bridge collapsed! But the students cheered. Though their bridge was smashed under a pile of weights, it held more than any other. They finished their skit and watched the rest of the competition nervously, certain of victory, but afraid someone else's structure might outdo theirs.
None did. None surpassed the 102 pound mark. However, the team's victory was overturned and they were disqualified because the judges believed one of the parents gave improper assistance. My daughter was as crushed as their balsawood bridge. She saw weeks of hard work smashed unfairly. Bitter tears fell as we gathered the splintered structure. I put every piece of wood in a paper bag and tried to comfort her. But she wasn't ready to listen.
The next day, I took her to a park near our home. Without explanation, I opened the two sacks I had brought along. There was a box of graham crackers and several chocolate bars, a bag of marshmallows and two long forks. In the other sack, the broken bridge. I laid the sticks in a charcoal grill and lighted them with a match. While they burned, my daughter loaded the forks with marshmallows and roasted them over the flames. When they were gooey and brown, we placed them on the graham crackers and sandwiched a chocolate bar between the crackers. You may have had this treat before; we call it "s'mores" because they are so good we always want s'more.
After we had eaten several, and the fire died down, I explained, "Sometimes life seems unfair. It doesn't always go the way we think it should or want it to. Your bridge was good, and no one can take away the experience of working as a team to learn how to build it. But the best thing about that bridge was the great fire it made for melting marshmallows and making s’mores. When something bad happens, God can take those unhappy circumstances, if we let Him, and make something good out of them.”
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Servanthood
During a visit with my two-year-old granddaughter, she said, “I can go potty all by myself, but you can come up with me and wipe my bottom.”
I raised five children and have wiped many a bottom, but her invitation made the opportunity a precious gift. She wanted my presence at an event that is a normal part of her daily life and something she can easily manage for herself. I could have dismissed her invitation. I could have been insulted at being asked to wipe a dirty bottom.
But I was honored. It was a privilege because of who was doing the asking.
When you serve on a Short-Term Mission team, God is asking, “Will you serve me? No matter what the task, will you serve my people?”
Will you take on an attitude of servanthood? Serving others puts their needs ahead of your own, then goes a step further with an attitude of privilege. It says, “I am honored to serve you.”
Serving may not be glamorous, fun, easy or rewarding, but it is always a privilege.
Ask God to give you an attitude of servanthood, to teach you to see every opportunity to serve others as a privilege and to understand that your presence is more important than just the task.
I raised five children and have wiped many a bottom, but her invitation made the opportunity a precious gift. She wanted my presence at an event that is a normal part of her daily life and something she can easily manage for herself. I could have dismissed her invitation. I could have been insulted at being asked to wipe a dirty bottom.
But I was honored. It was a privilege because of who was doing the asking.
When you serve on a Short-Term Mission team, God is asking, “Will you serve me? No matter what the task, will you serve my people?”
Will you take on an attitude of servanthood? Serving others puts their needs ahead of your own, then goes a step further with an attitude of privilege. It says, “I am honored to serve you.”
Serving may not be glamorous, fun, easy or rewarding, but it is always a privilege.
Ask God to give you an attitude of servanthood, to teach you to see every opportunity to serve others as a privilege and to understand that your presence is more important than just the task.
Friday, June 6, 2008
God's GPS
For Christmas, my husband bought me a GPS (Global Positioning System). I generally have a good sense of direction and don’t get lost too often, but, for my job, I drive in areas that are largely unfamiliar to me so the GPS seemed like a good idea.
I have to admit I do like it for certain things—especially for driving from one place to the next in communities where I don’t know my way around. I also like that it tells me when I will arrive at the next destination, and I try to beat its estimate.
You know how a GPS works—a satellite somewhere way above earth tracks my car, (almost scary, isn’t it?) and tells me when to turn. If I decide I know a better way and take a detour from the programmed route, the GPS complains and tells me to turn around. After a minute or so, it gives up trying to correct me and recalculates my route and gives me new directions.
I think God does the same thing. He allows us to make mistakes; He uses our mistakes to teach us His way is best. He constantly re-calculates our path and tries to tell us which way He wants us to go. If we follow His way 100% of the time, life wouldn't necessarily be easier, but it would make Him happy. And ultimately, we’d be happier also.
Instead, I stray, He corrects, I learn (sometimes), I stray again.
I have to admit I do like it for certain things—especially for driving from one place to the next in communities where I don’t know my way around. I also like that it tells me when I will arrive at the next destination, and I try to beat its estimate.
You know how a GPS works—a satellite somewhere way above earth tracks my car, (almost scary, isn’t it?) and tells me when to turn. If I decide I know a better way and take a detour from the programmed route, the GPS complains and tells me to turn around. After a minute or so, it gives up trying to correct me and recalculates my route and gives me new directions.
I think God does the same thing. He allows us to make mistakes; He uses our mistakes to teach us His way is best. He constantly re-calculates our path and tries to tell us which way He wants us to go. If we follow His way 100% of the time, life wouldn't necessarily be easier, but it would make Him happy. And ultimately, we’d be happier also.
Instead, I stray, He corrects, I learn (sometimes), I stray again.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
JOY
JOY
(Jesus, Others, Yourself)
My 5-year-old granddaughter told me she knew all about “joy.”
I smiled as I thought about all the magazine articles I had recently read about how to find happiness, capture that elusive emotion. We adults so often get bogged down with the day-ti-day grind of living. Joy slips through our fingers when we aren’t looking. Like a fog around our ankles, joy melts away in the light of trouble.
The more we seek it, the harder joy is to find. Joy disappears like a child playing hide-and-seek.
I was eager for Em’s answer, but my adult heart remained skeptical. Of course, she knows about joy. She’s a little kid with no worries. She has wonderful parents to protect her and provide for her. How could she possibly not be a happy child? And what could she really know about joy?
“Joy stands for Jesus, others and Yourself,” she said.
Jesus, others, yourself…the priorities of life in the correct order. When you put your life into this order, joy fills you, clings to you, saturates you to overflowing.
A 3-ply cord is strong. A 3-legged stool stands firm. There is power in the trinity of Jesus, others, yourself. Jesus himself said, “Love the Lord, your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.”
Young as she is, Em has both wisdom and joy.
(Jesus, Others, Yourself)
My 5-year-old granddaughter told me she knew all about “joy.”
I smiled as I thought about all the magazine articles I had recently read about how to find happiness, capture that elusive emotion. We adults so often get bogged down with the day-ti-day grind of living. Joy slips through our fingers when we aren’t looking. Like a fog around our ankles, joy melts away in the light of trouble.
The more we seek it, the harder joy is to find. Joy disappears like a child playing hide-and-seek.
I was eager for Em’s answer, but my adult heart remained skeptical. Of course, she knows about joy. She’s a little kid with no worries. She has wonderful parents to protect her and provide for her. How could she possibly not be a happy child? And what could she really know about joy?
“Joy stands for Jesus, others and Yourself,” she said.
Jesus, others, yourself…the priorities of life in the correct order. When you put your life into this order, joy fills you, clings to you, saturates you to overflowing.
A 3-ply cord is strong. A 3-legged stool stands firm. There is power in the trinity of Jesus, others, yourself. Jesus himself said, “Love the Lord, your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.”
Young as she is, Em has both wisdom and joy.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Morning After
Have you ever thought about the day after Jesus was born? When the shepherds went home and the angels stopped singing "Gloria," and the Wise Men had not yet arrived, Mary and Joseph were alone with a baby. And while we don't know exactly where they were, chances are they were still in the stable, or perhaps in a crowded room at the inn. Certainy they must have looked at each other and said, "What have we gotten ourselves into?" Mary must have been tired, feeling overwhelmed. This was a time when women gathered for labor and birth, and banished men from the room. We know Mary was "unclean" and had to present herself later to be made clean again. She must have felt alone, without her mother and kinswomen to help and fuss over her. She probably knew how to take care of a baby; women of that time had plenty of contact with newborns, but it's always harder when it's your own. Did she wonder about whether she could make enough milk to feed him? Did she lie awake all night listening to him breath, marvelling at the tiny fingers and toes, holding him against her belly and wondering how he had ever fit inside her? Did she look at Joseph and fall in love all over again? Did she thank him for protecting her and helping her give birth?
And Joseph...did he look at the baby and feel the reassurance he had made the right decisions. Did he feel uncomfortable trespassing on the woman's world of labor and birth? Did he feel pride at seeing "his" son? Or was he afraid of the responsibility of raising the son of God? Did he feel ashamed he had not been able to get a room for them? Did he wonder where their next meal would come from or if he should leave Mary and the baby long enough to go get food for them?
They must have been scared, facing their greatest fears that morning after. They must have looked at each other and their baby with new love in their hearts. They must have known their lives would never be the same again. But they couldn't have known how different their lives would become. In the quiet of the morning after, their thoughts must have turned to God.
We all have our "morning afters." Most of the time we think of the morning after as a time of regret for mistakes made the night before. Sometimes we awaken with gratitude for having made it through the night and for the promise of new opportunities before us. How often do we embrace the quiet and turn our thoughts to God? It's your morning after. The shepherds have gone home. The angels have silenced. The Wise Men are still weeks away. It's just you and your fears, and your tears, and God's promises. Tomorrow is too far away and today is just beginning. It's the morning after and there's just you and Jesus.
And Joseph...did he look at the baby and feel the reassurance he had made the right decisions. Did he feel uncomfortable trespassing on the woman's world of labor and birth? Did he feel pride at seeing "his" son? Or was he afraid of the responsibility of raising the son of God? Did he feel ashamed he had not been able to get a room for them? Did he wonder where their next meal would come from or if he should leave Mary and the baby long enough to go get food for them?
They must have been scared, facing their greatest fears that morning after. They must have looked at each other and their baby with new love in their hearts. They must have known their lives would never be the same again. But they couldn't have known how different their lives would become. In the quiet of the morning after, their thoughts must have turned to God.
We all have our "morning afters." Most of the time we think of the morning after as a time of regret for mistakes made the night before. Sometimes we awaken with gratitude for having made it through the night and for the promise of new opportunities before us. How often do we embrace the quiet and turn our thoughts to God? It's your morning after. The shepherds have gone home. The angels have silenced. The Wise Men are still weeks away. It's just you and your fears, and your tears, and God's promises. Tomorrow is too far away and today is just beginning. It's the morning after and there's just you and Jesus.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Valleys and Mountains
We frequently talk about mountains and valleys when we consider the challenges of life and our walk with God. But our real-life experience of driving down one mountainside , across a valley and up another mountain really opened my eyes.
We were traveling from Cayambe to Quito, and had to cross several ranges to reach Quito which lays in a valley ringed by volcanic mountains. We had to be in Quito by nightfall since it is too dangerous to travel through the mountain after dark. As we drove down one mountainside into a valley, only one more mountain stood ahead. The sun hovered just above that last mountain.
Behind us, the mountain glowed in a red-orange late-day sunshine. I looked back at the mountain we had just crossed over and a storm was brewing behind it. The sky turned violet-deep blue in contrast to the golden-blue in front of us.
As you know, driving up and down mountains is never a straight road. The road buckles back on itself in twists and turns cut into the mountainside. Sometimes you are at the edge looking straight down hundreds of feet. Other times you hug the cliff and look up dizzyingly, hoping the hand of God holds the rocks in place as you travel beneath them. Back and forth you go, hoping you are making some progress, sometimes only being able to tell that by looking back.
When you reach the valley, you can't pause. The road is straight, and that means "Go faster!" There's urgency in your pace to reach the next mountain. The sun has slipped behind the mountains and shadows gather in your path. The mountain behind is still bathed in sunshine. It beckons you to return to the comfort of the past, the known way, the experiences that you've already conquered. That mountain was easy, a down slope in full light with the goal ahead visible and welcoming. Now, you've sped through the valley and the upslope ahead is almost in full darkness, only the silhouette of the mountain light by the waning sun. The most difficult and dangerous way lies between you and your goal. As you labor to climb, back and forth again, close to the precipice, against the wall, the engine groaning, fatigue straining everyone's nerves, you look forward into dimness, back toward even greater darkness.
You climb the last of the mountain in blackness and then at the crest you see the last glimpse of the sun as it disappears behind yet another mountain. But the city lies in the valley below. In darkness, but twinkling with thousands of little lights. Home. You breathe a sigh of relief. You've made it. But twilight is full and you can't see the reward just yet. The storms are behind you. But the sunlight isn't there either. Not until tomorrow.
Lessons learned:
1. Keep moving. The past always looks better, brighter, greener, because you've been there, you've conquered its battles and learned from them. But you can't stay there. You have to move on.
2. Moving on is almost never easy. There's a lot of back and forth, up and down, sunshine and darkness, cliffs and walls. Just keep going.
3. Sunshine isn't the goal. The valley isn't the goal. Home isn't even the goal. The journey with God is the goal. Each part of it is unique and has its own challenges and rewards. Traveling with Him teaches you to rejoice in the journey.
We were traveling from Cayambe to Quito, and had to cross several ranges to reach Quito which lays in a valley ringed by volcanic mountains. We had to be in Quito by nightfall since it is too dangerous to travel through the mountain after dark. As we drove down one mountainside into a valley, only one more mountain stood ahead. The sun hovered just above that last mountain.
Behind us, the mountain glowed in a red-orange late-day sunshine. I looked back at the mountain we had just crossed over and a storm was brewing behind it. The sky turned violet-deep blue in contrast to the golden-blue in front of us.
As you know, driving up and down mountains is never a straight road. The road buckles back on itself in twists and turns cut into the mountainside. Sometimes you are at the edge looking straight down hundreds of feet. Other times you hug the cliff and look up dizzyingly, hoping the hand of God holds the rocks in place as you travel beneath them. Back and forth you go, hoping you are making some progress, sometimes only being able to tell that by looking back.
When you reach the valley, you can't pause. The road is straight, and that means "Go faster!" There's urgency in your pace to reach the next mountain. The sun has slipped behind the mountains and shadows gather in your path. The mountain behind is still bathed in sunshine. It beckons you to return to the comfort of the past, the known way, the experiences that you've already conquered. That mountain was easy, a down slope in full light with the goal ahead visible and welcoming. Now, you've sped through the valley and the upslope ahead is almost in full darkness, only the silhouette of the mountain light by the waning sun. The most difficult and dangerous way lies between you and your goal. As you labor to climb, back and forth again, close to the precipice, against the wall, the engine groaning, fatigue straining everyone's nerves, you look forward into dimness, back toward even greater darkness.
You climb the last of the mountain in blackness and then at the crest you see the last glimpse of the sun as it disappears behind yet another mountain. But the city lies in the valley below. In darkness, but twinkling with thousands of little lights. Home. You breathe a sigh of relief. You've made it. But twilight is full and you can't see the reward just yet. The storms are behind you. But the sunlight isn't there either. Not until tomorrow.
Lessons learned:
1. Keep moving. The past always looks better, brighter, greener, because you've been there, you've conquered its battles and learned from them. But you can't stay there. You have to move on.
2. Moving on is almost never easy. There's a lot of back and forth, up and down, sunshine and darkness, cliffs and walls. Just keep going.
3. Sunshine isn't the goal. The valley isn't the goal. Home isn't even the goal. The journey with God is the goal. Each part of it is unique and has its own challenges and rewards. Traveling with Him teaches you to rejoice in the journey.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
So I imagine the conversation between Mary and Joseph went like this:
What do you mean he's not with the caravan?Where could he be?
I thought he was with you.
Well, I thought you knew where he was.
How could this happen? How could he do this to us?
He's still in Jerusalem? Why would he do that?
My baby is in the city? What if something has happened to him? He could have been taken and sold into slavery. He could be on his way to ...
Wait till I get my hands on him...he'll be grounded for life.
I'm sure he's fine...he's very mature for his age. You'll see. He's probably having the time of his life.
Yes, well, he'd better live it up now because when I catch up with him...
Fear and anger and a whole set of what-if's must have flashed through their minds as they set out to return to Jerusalem. The city was not a place for an adolescent to be alone. Especially not this pre-teen. Since his birth, Mary had been waiting for something. Parenting Jesus was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can give birth to such a special child without wondering why, how, when, what. For years, she had watched him grow and wonder what God had in store for him, for them. Was this part of His plan? This disappearing? Had Jesus run away? Sometimes she thought she didn't even know her own son.
She should have seen this coming. After all, wasn't he almost a man. When she was his age, well, a year or so older, an angel had told her she would be a mother. Why couldn't that angle have stuck around for times like this?
*******
So why did it take three days of searching to find him? Did they have to retrace their steps through the whole city? Why as the temple the last place they looked, instead of the first place? Did they think he'd be in prison? In the marketplace? In the synagogue school? I think I'd have thought: "We always come to the temple. Every year to the same place, so that's where he'll be."
But it still took them three days to find him. Why three days?
Could it be a foreshadowing of the three days in the tomb?
When they found him, he was listening and asking questions. Not teaching, but encouraging others to answer his questions. How had this carpenter's child astonished the religious leaders and amazed his own parents? Why did none of them request the boy be left there? Didn't Solomon's mother give him to the priests to raise when he was only a toddler? Surely there was a school there and Jesus was old enough to have been left there. If he were that smart, why not leave him to be trained as a priest?
Or did the prejudices of the priests prevent this (Nothing good can come out of Nazareth)? Or perhaps they didn't want to deal with a pre-teen who knew more about the Scriptures than they did.
Or perhaps it wasn't God's time yet and Jesus knew and understood that. "He went down to Nazareth and was subject to them (his parents)." There was much to be learned in obedience, in serving, in learning from his father and his mother. "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men."
At 12, he thought he was ready. But after three days, he understood he needed to grow and mature more. He needed to do that within the shelter of his family and his relationship with his parents. They cared enough to search for him, but also perhaps to give him 3 days' taste of freedom.
What do you mean he's not with the caravan?Where could he be?
I thought he was with you.
Well, I thought you knew where he was.
How could this happen? How could he do this to us?
He's still in Jerusalem? Why would he do that?
My baby is in the city? What if something has happened to him? He could have been taken and sold into slavery. He could be on his way to ...
Wait till I get my hands on him...he'll be grounded for life.
I'm sure he's fine...he's very mature for his age. You'll see. He's probably having the time of his life.
Yes, well, he'd better live it up now because when I catch up with him...
Fear and anger and a whole set of what-if's must have flashed through their minds as they set out to return to Jerusalem. The city was not a place for an adolescent to be alone. Especially not this pre-teen. Since his birth, Mary had been waiting for something. Parenting Jesus was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can give birth to such a special child without wondering why, how, when, what. For years, she had watched him grow and wonder what God had in store for him, for them. Was this part of His plan? This disappearing? Had Jesus run away? Sometimes she thought she didn't even know her own son.
She should have seen this coming. After all, wasn't he almost a man. When she was his age, well, a year or so older, an angel had told her she would be a mother. Why couldn't that angle have stuck around for times like this?
*******
So why did it take three days of searching to find him? Did they have to retrace their steps through the whole city? Why as the temple the last place they looked, instead of the first place? Did they think he'd be in prison? In the marketplace? In the synagogue school? I think I'd have thought: "We always come to the temple. Every year to the same place, so that's where he'll be."
But it still took them three days to find him. Why three days?
Could it be a foreshadowing of the three days in the tomb?
When they found him, he was listening and asking questions. Not teaching, but encouraging others to answer his questions. How had this carpenter's child astonished the religious leaders and amazed his own parents? Why did none of them request the boy be left there? Didn't Solomon's mother give him to the priests to raise when he was only a toddler? Surely there was a school there and Jesus was old enough to have been left there. If he were that smart, why not leave him to be trained as a priest?
Or did the prejudices of the priests prevent this (Nothing good can come out of Nazareth)? Or perhaps they didn't want to deal with a pre-teen who knew more about the Scriptures than they did.
Or perhaps it wasn't God's time yet and Jesus knew and understood that. "He went down to Nazareth and was subject to them (his parents)." There was much to be learned in obedience, in serving, in learning from his father and his mother. "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men."
At 12, he thought he was ready. But after three days, he understood he needed to grow and mature more. He needed to do that within the shelter of his family and his relationship with his parents. They cared enough to search for him, but also perhaps to give him 3 days' taste of freedom.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
A New Look at the Wilderness
Moses led the Chosen People into the desert wilderness, a story familiar to us of 40 years of wandering in a fairly small space as they traveled to Canaan. I wonder, what they expected when they would get there and how they would know they had arrived?
The Israelites in Egypt had no personal memories of Canaan. It was generations before that their forefathers had left. My ancestors left England in the early 1700’s to sail to the American Colonies. 300 years later, my daughter and I visited England. I felt slight twinges of nostalgia in England but in reality, it wasn’t my home and I didn’t feel drawn to the land as if I were a native. How did the Israelites feel?
They had heard stories passed from grandparents to grandchildren. I am sure the stories grew more impressive with each successive generation. “A land of milk and honey…the best of everything…the sweetest water…the bluest sky…the greenest landscape.” They married, had babies, died. They kept their traditions alive. They worshipped one God, but He was silent. His covenant with Abraham was, perhaps, forgotten.
Then, the word came…we’re leaving. We’re going back…we’re going home. But where was home? What did it look like? What did it feel like? What will we do when we get there?
They gathered all they could carry. People who had lived in homes, in a neighborhood…people who had forgotten what it was to live in a tent and follow the herds. They left…whole families, friends, whole neighborhoods. This was no solitary camping vacation. For most of them, everyone they knew joined the parade. A grand adventure! We’re off to the Land of our Forefathers!
Wandering in the desert…are you sure this is the right way? Why, in God’s name, did we ever leave our homes? At least we’re all in this together.
They left behind what they couldn’t carry. They left behind their ancestors to go to the Land of their Ancestors, to reclaim the Covenant of their Ancestors. They brought with them only what they could carry…their memories, their stories, their family, their friends, their neighbors, their tradition, their God.
When we wander through the desert times, we feel so alone. It’s so easy to lose track of where we are and who we are and whose we are. We forget about family and friends and neighbors. We forget traditions, stories, memories. Like the Israelites, we rail at God, we wander away from Him, we question, we sin, we wander back. All the while, we forget about His promises and what lies ahead. And, like the Israelites, we have no idea what our destination looks like, and how we will know when we’ve arrived there.
The Israelites in Egypt had no personal memories of Canaan. It was generations before that their forefathers had left. My ancestors left England in the early 1700’s to sail to the American Colonies. 300 years later, my daughter and I visited England. I felt slight twinges of nostalgia in England but in reality, it wasn’t my home and I didn’t feel drawn to the land as if I were a native. How did the Israelites feel?
They had heard stories passed from grandparents to grandchildren. I am sure the stories grew more impressive with each successive generation. “A land of milk and honey…the best of everything…the sweetest water…the bluest sky…the greenest landscape.” They married, had babies, died. They kept their traditions alive. They worshipped one God, but He was silent. His covenant with Abraham was, perhaps, forgotten.
Then, the word came…we’re leaving. We’re going back…we’re going home. But where was home? What did it look like? What did it feel like? What will we do when we get there?
They gathered all they could carry. People who had lived in homes, in a neighborhood…people who had forgotten what it was to live in a tent and follow the herds. They left…whole families, friends, whole neighborhoods. This was no solitary camping vacation. For most of them, everyone they knew joined the parade. A grand adventure! We’re off to the Land of our Forefathers!
Wandering in the desert…are you sure this is the right way? Why, in God’s name, did we ever leave our homes? At least we’re all in this together.
They left behind what they couldn’t carry. They left behind their ancestors to go to the Land of their Ancestors, to reclaim the Covenant of their Ancestors. They brought with them only what they could carry…their memories, their stories, their family, their friends, their neighbors, their tradition, their God.
When we wander through the desert times, we feel so alone. It’s so easy to lose track of where we are and who we are and whose we are. We forget about family and friends and neighbors. We forget traditions, stories, memories. Like the Israelites, we rail at God, we wander away from Him, we question, we sin, we wander back. All the while, we forget about His promises and what lies ahead. And, like the Israelites, we have no idea what our destination looks like, and how we will know when we’ve arrived there.
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