I’m a Reading Rainbow

I did finally get to read to my neighbor.  It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

My friend whom I met with in regard to God’s harebrained plan about reading to her husband the doctor, was glad to see me and optimistic about our arrangement.  Unfortunately her husband had fallen asleep and she was not able to readily wake him so instead of introducing us she left me with her eleven year old daughter while taking her other kids to youth group.

Waiting made my anxiety worse.  My husband had asked earlier in the day if I was nervous and at that time I was not, even when I showed up I was not but sitting there I began to entertain my reservations.

What will he think of this crazy plan?  Will he think I intend to evangelize him without compassion.  I bet he is wondering if whatever I have planned will allow him yet another chance to sleep or let his thoughts wander.

I chatted with my heart in my throat, nervous about what to do if he woke.  At last we heard him coughing in the other room and that darling little girl got up and ran into his room exclaiming, “Good morning, sleeping beauty!”

It was actually six at night!

“Do you wanna meet a new friend?” she exclaimed and beckoned with her hand for me to enter.

Thank you Lord! 

I had been so nervous about how to approach him and yet this lovely little girl had taking away all tension with her plucky introduction.

Lord, help me not to talk down to him, help my conversation to be comfortable and respectful.  Lord give me the right words so that I don’t pity him but that your love shows through me and your hope is evident without my having to preach at him.  Jane and I want so badly for him to learn to trust you, help me to understand your timing.

She left us alone and I sat beside his bed and began to explain why I had chosen the book that I did.  Despite the fact that God clearly directed me to read House, by Ted Dekker and Frank Peretti, I had many other reasons for agreeing with Him and I shared those. 🙂

As I spoke I took in a couple quick glances at the pictures above the bed, they were of healthier times for the doctor and I was shocked at the stark difference.  Though he had thick cotton white hair even then, it was silky and bright .  Now his hair was a coarse gray mat against his head.  He had been a big man with a broad inviting smile.  Now, emaciated and limp, his smile ghoulish, his head appearing too large on his skeleton frame.  My heart ached.

I opened my book and read stopping now and again to take a sip of water and allow him to cough.

We finished one chapter and I paused to talk a little about myself.  I told him briefly about each of my kids and that I felt blessed to know his family.  His daughter came in to check on us and I took another drink of my water while conversing with her.

I read another chapter and twice I made major mistakes that sent us both into laughter.  His eyes sparkled and he tried to laugh but it caused a coughing fit.  I winced at the pain it seemed to cause him as he gagged and sputtered.  I could not believe that I was sitting there, next to a man who was so incapacitated and yet the Lord was allowing us to fellowship.  I was not disturbed by the monitors and wheelchair.  My mind was filled with compassion and my heart longed only for him to know my Jesus and accept the promise of complete healing whether on earth or in heaven.

I read a total of three chapters and in the third had another laugh fumbling around with my voice attempting to recreate a “booming” male voice.

Though I had seen the sparkle in his eye and thought I made him laugh it was hard to be sure how he was taking it until his daughter ran to her mother the minute she arrived and exclaimed “He was so into it, I haven’t seen him that alert!”

My reservations were wiped away and the Lord graciously confirmed that His thoughts are completely different from ours…and His ways are far beyond anything we can imagine.

I read again soon and will be sure to keep you updated.

“My thoughts are completely different from yours,” says the Lord.  “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.  For just as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my ways higher than your way and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

“The rain and snow come down from the heavens and stay on the ground to water the earth.  They cause the grain to grow producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry.  It is the same with my word.  I send it out and it always produces fruit.  It will accomplish all I want it to and it will prosper everywhere I send it.  You will live in joy and peace.  The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands!  Where once briers grew, myrtles will sprout up.  This miracle will bring great honor to the Lord’s name; it will be an everlasting sign of his power and love.”

Isaiah 55:8-13

Window on the World

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Window on the World: When We Pray God Works

The boys and I absolutely love this missions minded textbook.  It was recommended by a blogger friend and is a must have! Thanks Karen!

Each two page spread gives you a thorough look into a different people group of the world, mostly through the eyes of a child in that nation.  It details struggles and successes in reaching that group for Christ and has a section on how you can pray.  My boys practically fight over the prayer requests each day.  They love to hear the stories about boys and girls in other countries and even my two year old is learning.

When Matt came home from work the other day, a good 5hrs after we read about how God healed Niki in Albania and learned to say hello in Albanian, Bubba hollered “Tungjatjeta (toon-jat-yeta) Dad!”

Look to the Rock

Isaiah 51:1 says “…look to the Rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were hewn.”

I was thinking about that verse and our discussions on names and I had an epiphany….  what do God’s names mean and what are  they all?

So I went on a little hunt.  Do you know that our English translation of the Bible is quite limited in understanding of His names.  What I mean is that God’s names are so deep and rich yet in our language there is no comparrison to the original Hebrew. 

Where we use “Lord” there are many many different versions of the name Jehovah (YHWH or simply the 4 letters) which is God’s covenant name or the name He promised.  It means that he is the God who continually reveals himself to us.  Add it to another name and it literally means he will reveal himself to be as such…. Example; there is Jehovah Raah, which means shepherd, Jehovah Nissi meaning banner or refuge and carries with it a hope that can’t be understood in just one word of the English language.  Since Jehovah preceeds each of the names they literally mean, God who reveals himself to be our shepherd, or the God who will show us He is our hope!

I’m not doing all the work for you! 🙂  Find out for yourself who God want’s to reveal that He is for you today!

Here are a couple few 🙂 websites I found to help you study.

Blue Letter Bible

Hebrew Christians

Bible Gateway

On the Subject of Our Value in Christ

 I have very little to say about this book but freakin’ awesome and INSANE pretty much sums it up.  You must know that I hate modern romance books but Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers (an allegory of the book of Hosea) ROCKED MY WORLD! It was loaned to me and I opened it reluctantly but finished it in 3 sittings …and I bought my own copy AFTER reading it!

Among my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis and Frank Peretti, Francine Rivers finds good company!

What’s in a Name?

If you look at Biblical examples many times children were named for the mother’s first impression; Esau (hairy), Jacob (deceiver- he came as a surprise, hanging onto the heel of his elder brother) and so on….

I’ve decided if I were to name my kids based on my current impression they would not have the most flattering of names.  Would I for that matter??

Introducing Lawyer (master of debate and arguing his case):

 

Here is Ticking Time Bomb (everything is fine until an unknown switch is triggered and KABOOM!):

 

This is Clown (jokester, magpie, remember-er of everything especially naughty words and apparently “funny” jokes):

 

Finally the Girl (at least she IS a girl but man can she scream and manipulate and get everyone wrapped around that pinky finger):

 

Sigh! Then there is me, I can’t even imagine the things I deserve to be called.  Thank you Lord for giving us a “new name” for making us children of the Living God, for allowing us to be know by association of YOU. 

Christian

“Christ follower”

“Little Christ”

“Child of the Most High!”

Revelation 2:17  He who has an ear let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.

Revelation 3:11-13  11.I am coming soon, hold onto what you have so that no one will take your crown.  12.Him who overcomes I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will he leave it.  I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem which is coming down out of heavenfrom my God; and I will also write on him my new name. 13. He who has an ear let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

The Doctors Doctor

It wasn’t even Sunday and I got that feeling in my stomach that happens when you know you are supposed to go up during the altar call.  The very same butterflies that urge you to speak out on something important.  The unrest that does not settle until you take action.  I’m sure you’ve felt the same feeling in one situation or another.  But this was the middle of the week.  No pastor preaching, nobody challenging my ideals just me driving my car down the road in peace and quiet!  Maybe that was the trouble, I’m usually unable to think, let alone pray with my Thinglets poking each other and Pee Wee squealing along with them, my radio blaring to try to drowned out the noise.

I knew what it meant. We have a new neighbor in the valley whose house I pass each time I go to town.  The  family had moved into the single level home six months after the man of the house had suffered a major frontal lobe stroke that put him in a nursing home and made it unable for him to return to their multi level house only a few miles away.

Matt and I had stopped by one day and offered our assistance when we saw them moving in.  Jane told us the whole story about her husbands stroke and how he was unable to return home to her and the kids until they moved into a house that was better suited to a wheelchair.

When we left I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could serve them better.  What could I do to help out? 

Drop off a meal?  Ugh!  No offense to any kind soul who serves meals in love but I always cringe at the Christian cliche, “Just serve them a meal!”  Although this common practice is how I was introduced to one of my favorite meals to date (so I had better not frown too obviously) it’s just not my cup of soup.

I could babysit the kids but anyone who knows me IRL knows that I am not the gal for that job! While I love my kids and have an absolute blast with each and every one of them I’m not the little kid type. Please send me all your teenagers but not your babies!  Only one of Jane’s children would fit my category so I didn’t think that would be my job either.

“How then Lord, how can I help?”

Have you ever asked a question and promptly found you regret the resulting answer?

I did get a clear answer.  Not in the form of actual words but a vivid and real epiphany complete with the thought process behind it, none of which I came up with on my own.

For months the Lord has been preparing me to stop and present His harebrained plan of which I am supposed to happily facilitate.  I’ve prayed many times since then, ” let me know when it is time Lord,”   and yet even when he made it distinctly evident, I didn’t want to go through with it.

***************

Imagine an intelligent and mature man who had spent a lifetime pursuing a successful career as a doctor, a family practitioner.  He has a beautiful wife many years younger than himself, loving and devoted to him, his three darling children and his time consuming  job and passion.  They live in a grand custom home on a private lake and lead a life of ease.  The family entertains many friends and attends church every holiday.  They are the ideal American family.

Now imagine you are that man and one night after you lay your head to rest you awake to the bright lights of the ER.   The smells and sounds as familiar as your  jobplace. 

Wait… you can not turn your head, you can’t sit up and reach over to turn off the monitor beeping in your ear.  Your heart begins to race, your eyes dart from the lights on the ceiling to the IV in your hand.  The blue coats rushing around are not your nurses, but you’ve seen them before while attending surgery at the local hospital.  Why can’t you speak?  You want to ask “Why am I laying here?”

***************

I thought about these things and I imagined myself in Dr. Smith’s position.  I feared the inability to move myself, to express myself, to learn.  When I climbed into his shoes I was terrified and lonely.

It’s been a year since his stroke but mobility has not returned, speech continues to allude him.  People come to the new house to wish him speedy recovery but most of them don’t know what to say, they talk to him like a child.  He can’t lift his hand to shake theirs, he can not assure them he is still as sharp as ever in thought.  He can only sit alone with his  thoughts hoping to either get well or die.

If I were in his shoes I can only imagine the struggle I would have pondering the apparent either/or.

Armed with compassion I would not have mustered on my own and the harebrained plan that made me blush each time I explained it to those who were praying, I drove up the driveway to the new house and parked reluctantly at the barn.

I was really hoping this was another practice run since I’d parked there once before (another time when the butterflies made me do it) only to find that Jane was not home.    This time she slipped out the back door almost immediately and strode confidently toward my Suburban.  A lump formed in my throat.  I conjured up a front for my visit and began to converse about our kids, 4-H, the Mariners (not really) until finally the swirling, fluttering, shaky feeling could no longer be ignored.

“Jane, uh er, I uh…,” I took a deep breath then spit it all out, “the real reason for my visit is to see if your husband would like if I was to read to him on a regular basis.” 

I didn’t look for her reaction before I continued, “I have a book in mind that I have not read yet, it’s a supernatural thriller that honestly sounds a little scary.”

Then I took another breath and tried to blur the next sentence into an unrecognizable muddle, “It has a faith based component, so I believe it ends well.”

To my surprise my lovely neighbor whom I barely know anything about latched onto the whole idea like I was sent by God to help ease her burden.  Imagine that! 😉

Before blurting out the whole plan I had thoroughly convinced myself of the stupidity of reading to an intelligent man, like I was Mr Rogers.  The Lord told me clearly to read  to a scholarly doctor who despite his medical condition I was convinced  could certainly read on his own.

After I had settled my fluttering friends, I confided in Jane as to how stupid I felt for even suggesting the idea.  The only read aloud forums I would let myself imagine were juvenile gatherings; the library story hour, Saturday nights as a kid listing to my dad read “Little House on the Prairie” and visions of my own children nestled around reading “The Indian in the Cupboard.”  What in the world would a full grown man think of me READING to him.  “I’m sure he can read on his own, maybe he would prefer to borrow my book!”  I explained.

“Oh, no,” Jane grew solemn “He would not be able to hold the book.”

The stroke had been severe enough that even a year later the doctor is still unable to sit fully on his own or steady his hands for anything other than a squeeze or a meager wave.  His speech is nearly non existent and if he stands at all it is only with the help of a strong adult.  Most of the time she said he doesn’t even lift his head to watch the TV.  “He just listens,” she assumed aloud.

At the mention of faith (a word I had used hoping to avoid the subject of Jesus all together) a whole new conversation emerged and I spent the next hour sharing a spiritual connection with Jane.  I learned that she is a believer herself and concerned about her husbands salvation.  Before the stroke, he had been successful and preoccupied, not the one to persue Christian gatherings but never in the way of her endeavor to educate the children on “religious” matters.  She told me about how more and more people have been pursuing him and telling him that Christ wants to be a part of his life.

She told me, with an embarrased but mischievous glint in her eye that she had been reading her Bible to him and dragging him out to church every Sunday. 

As she described it, they had recently had a discussion where she told him that he needed to give his burdens to the Lord and allow Christ into his life.  Things that day had been really bad, he was weak and unhelpful when she tried to get him up, she had struggled to lift while he resisted and in the end he had fallen.  She knew that her prayers could only go so far since the Lord will not make a person believe so she urged him to pray and ask God for assistance.  The next day his strength was back and his face a little less ashen.  

The Lord hears and the doctor is beginning to ask!

There was an urgency in Jane’s mind in regard to her husband knowing the Lord’s healing.  We talked about the possibility of the Great Physician bringing total healing and she insisted it won’t happen until Dr. Smith allows it.

I invited them to a bible study at our house and she said they would be sure to come.

Through obedience to the Lord, I have made a new friend, been given a new prayer, and am a participant in the healing process of the doctor in heart and health!  I am confident this won’t be the end of the story.

Click here to read what happened next.

Sometimes I Forget

Sometimes I forget to taste my food.

I’ve even forgotten what wheat tastes like.

Sometimes I forget that my children are all very young,

That the oldest is young enough to still fear the dark.

Sometimes I forget to hug my husband,

And that my best weapon is prayer, my shield is the God who sees!

Sometimes I forget that I do a good job,

That the children will not remember a swept floor, a well thought out meal.

Sometimes I forget my manners, my patience, my happy countenance

But my Jesus, my Joy

He is my witness

Sometimes I forget

He never forgets

Please visit the others by clicking the picture below!  There are so many great photographers that participate!

Where has the mind gone?

Where has the time mind gone?

Anyone else might not understand my devastation when I forgot where I’d put Matt’s paycheck the other day.

Life happens, things get misplaced, even important things.

Even the biggest organize junkie can have a day like I did and end with the realization that the most important slip of paper went into her hand and back out without the slightest recollection.

Why then, did this understandable event cause such grief that I spent nearly an hour huddled in the corner of my bathroom sobbing into my lap while my husband, unaware that I was beside myself, frantically looked for his months pay.

The day began a bit earlier than usual with a hot cup of coffee.  Matt and I packed lunch in a cooler and tried to make breakfast to go before the kids all stumbled down the stairs with hungry tummies.  If we could beat them to it we planned to whisk them into their car seats and stuff bananas in their chubby hands so we would not be held up by the usual hour of dressing, diapering, breakfast routine.

We made it just in time. Buckled the Thinglets into their seats, shoveled a green smoothie into Pee Wee’s little mouth and off we went for the 2 1/2 hour drive north for hay.

Twenty or thirty songs and stories later we made it to the farm where we collect our hay twice yearly.  The farmer was ready with hay forks on his tractor.  I hired Thing 1 to divvy up the snack and give a bottle to the littlest before jumping onto the flatbed to roll 120lb bales of pokey, itchy hay into position while Matt hefted the strays.  Rolling bales might sound like a simple endeavor but when the rectangles are turned they tend to want to stay turned.  With all my might I fought them into place, swiping the sweat under my baseball cap, occasionally letting my boot slip through a crack in the ever growing stack.

Don’t feel too bad, I love to do hay but it sure is exhausting work.

Once most of the bales were loaded I took a break to let the little ones have a few minutes out of the truck before our long trek home.

With Pee Wee on my hip and Bubba in tow we picked alfalfa flowers as I threatened the big boys to stay out of the way of the tractor.  Finally it was time to pull out the checkbook so I summoned Matt with the “Mary Poppin’s Pockets”.  He pulled a somewhat soggy pile of papers from his back pocket and we laughed at having to find a dry check to pay with. 

The farmer (a friendly granfatherly man) snatched up the Bubba and tickled him upside down like he would have done to his own grandson.

Matt noticed his paycheck in the stack of papers and handed it to me for safe keeping, I set the checkbook down on the bumper of the green Chevy and…

POOF!

I can’t remember what happened next.

Remembering has become infinitely more precious to me this year.  You see, my Dad was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimers a disease that robs the brain of memory by depositing plaque in areas with previously perfect activity.  Early Onset is the only type of AZ that is believed to be highly hereditary.  At one point I heard a stat that children of Early Onset AZ patients have a 50% chance of contracting this disgusting disease which can begin it’s tragic effects as early as 30.

Did I mention I turned 30 this year?

That’s how an ordinary event and an active imagination gets turned into a cause for devastation.  A crippling reminder that life is short and a tragic way to start a perfectly good day.

Thank goodness that isn’t where the story ends.

God’s promised are not bound by time, events or circumstance and despite my first raw feelings that somehow my Jesus caused this to happen to Dad.  The facts are he did not, he does not, he can not cause ugly, depraved and sin induced things to happen. He does however allow us to wrestle through life bumping into our circumstances (sometimes self induced, often not) with the choice to include him or not.

When Jacob (the deceiver) wrestled with God (Gen 32:22-31) in the desert he hung on till daybreak. God could have ended the match at any second and yet he allowed the hand to hand combat to continue.  Why?  To be cruel, because he was heartless?  A game?  Jacob had been dubbed a liar from birth, it was on every tongue when his name was spoken.

“Liar, come to dinner.”

“Liar, clean your room.”

God eventually ended the tussle by simply touching (and injuring) Liar’s leg and when he let go he announced,

“You have wrestled with God and with man and you have overcome.  From now on your name will be Israel (he struggles with God)”

In a recent Bible Study I attended the leader implored us to “hang on until the blessing comes.”

The Liar, wrestling with God would not let go. He clung to the struggle and stuck with it until he had encountered God (the wrenched hip) and received a new name “Israel my beloved!”

Even though I don’t like it, even though my mind deceives me I will hang on till the blessing comes and not allow my circumstances to cripple me and keep me from encountering God.

The Long Long Story- Short Version

Where to begin?

Lost horses?

My internet boyfriend?

Life in the long long trailer?

It’s a story about control. A story about learning to give up the illusion of control. This is my testimony written and documented as a “stone alter” to remind me where I’ve been. Equally it’s the story of my ever growing love for my husband a memoir for my children, a written legacy. It is the story of their parents and more importantly the story of the Lord’s unending provision.

It is not always a pretty story and I haven’t attained all that I’ve reached for throughout the years but thank the Lord I haven’t been given what I deserve! He is a good God, giving good and perfect gifts but sometimes that did not include the very things I had my sights on. The desires of passionate moments faded away and in their place my Jesus has given me a full and passionate life.

How about I start with the short version.  Remember, Jessie doesn’t do short so I will give it my best shot!

I asked Jesus into my heart when I was five.  I can still remember it in vivid living color!  My Daddy and I were sitting on the carpeted landing of our three story, turn of the century home in downtown Coeur d’Alene (Core-duh-lane, it’s French).  My mom fondly recalls how I would tell complete strangers my address pluckily including the “downtown” part in my montra!  There is a different feel in “downtown” and even as a five year old I knew it. 

Each block had a dozen or so quaint old houses. Huge oak and maple trees lined the street yawning with their branches over the road, touching in the middle creating a canopy of glistening leaves in the spring and summer.  Those same trees with swelling roots had pushed up the sidewalk in places but people didn’t mind, they just bumped their baby carriages around the crevasse and went on their way awestruck by the sheer beauty of their surroundings.  We had one such tree but it sat back off the road, almost close enough to climb into from the window at the landing where we sat.

I would sit with Daddy and press my little nose against the glass to watch the Robin’s nesting and caring for their young.  Year after year the same family would return to the cradle in that old maple to gather twigs.  Weeks would pass and the mother would lay thumb sized, speckled blue eggs.  She would sit patiently while father, with his beautiful red breast, would flutter off busily caring for her until the chicks had hatched, and then they both would busy themselves caring for the young.  Sometimes I could see the sharp beaks stretched out from fuzz topped heads blind and helpless, waiting for morsels of goodness.  

I’ve often thought of those brilliant birds as an allegory for how God places us here on earth then watches, drawing us while His truth grows inside us ready to burst through the shell of selfishness into a realization that He is the one true King.  Jesus provided a way for us to get out of our mortal shell and really live, then he carefully feeds and cares for us through His Word (spiritual food) and the fellowship of believers as we mature into strong God fearing individuals. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself and my story is getting long!

Sitting there that day watching the Robins with my dad I asked probing questions about life and our existence.  Soon he could recognize that the Holy Spirit was working and he asked if I would like to have Jesus in my heart!  My own heart picked up it’s pace as I pondered the magnitude of this decision.  As much as a five year old mind could I understood that I could not get out of that shell alone. I needed Jesus. 

Daddy prayed with me and covered me with his protection and guidance for the time being.  I understood the Father because I had the example of my own Daddy and I wanted to grow up to be like him. 

Thus began my journey and consequently my life!

I am me everyone else is taken.

I just stumbled upon a blog whose title is “I’m just me (everyone else is taken)” and I love the quote so I stole it 🙂 Hehe!  It got me thinking.

I’ve been really moody lately- what’s up with that?  Who knows maybe it’s the onions they made me eat!  I even told my husband the other day “I don’t like myself lately!”   You know that feeling it’s like the saying “wherever I go there I am.”  So the question remains, what to DO about it!?

CHANGE!  Do you remember our discussion about change?  I’m very resistant to it, I’m married to it and I am living by it all at the same time.  I think we all are really, like it or not.  Can I change?  Can I forget about the onions and enjoy the blessings of the day?

My blessings are numerous really.  Four beautiful children and a wonderful loyal, hard working, supportive husband. A gorgeous house in the woods complete with vegetable garden, animals of all kinds, many many lovely friends.  I really have nothing to be moody about yet I find myself going about my day with a wrinkled brown worrying about my WORRYING!  Ack

Thank the Lord he doesn’t define us by our worst day, in fact I am even more grateful he doesn’t measure us by our BEST day.  Instead our Gracious Father sees us through alens of  mercy, he views us through the veil of the blood that flowed on calvary.

Thank you Jesus for seeing me Redeemed!

Thank you Jesus for seeing me Whole!

Thank you Jesus for seeing me on YOUR BEST DAY, the day you bore my sin unselfishly, most lovingly I am forgiven through your Grace!

Whew!

Help me to see others through that lens!