Toys

My husband thinks he’s reverting to childhood.

Now that he’s retired, he has more time to play—er, work—at things he enjoys. Like making toys.

It all started with making presents. Wooden trains, planes, and tanks. One set for each of the two grandsons, and one to keep at our house for when they come to visit (we hope).

Then it was almost time for Christmas, and we have several nieces and nephews, so he made 3 more trains—five cars each.

Then it seemed like he couldn’t stop. We ordered another 100 wheels, and today he said those are almost gone, and he’d need 200 more.

Right now, it’s planes—biplanes, jet planes, and the stealth plane, if he can figure out how to make a close imitation.

Next, he’s got ideas for cars, especially the old-fashioned kind.

He’s having as much fun making the toys as kids will have playing with them—hopefully for several generations.

Making toys for grandchildren…that may be passed on to their children.

It occurs to me that this is what God instructs us to do with His Word: “Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation” (Joel 1:3, NIV).

Just as we pass on heirloom-to-be toys, so we strive to pass on our faith to our children and their children.

Gone in 6 seconds

It’s amazing how quickly everything can change.

One minute, you’re walking along, finished with work for the day, thinking about going home and what you’ll do that evening. The next, you’re flat on your back with people staring down at you, asking if you’re OK.

One day, you are independent, driving yourself to work, changing light bulbs, pumping your own gas. The next, you’re dependent on someone else for all the large and small tasks of living, dressing, eating, even opening doors.

A broken right arm makes a difference.

In the past six days, I’ve gained a new appreciation for caregivers, for people with permanent physical limitations, and for God’s incredible timing.

As I lay awake that first night, waiting for the painkillers to kick in, I was filled with gratefulness to God. After all, I reasoned, He knew this accident was going to happen and, for His own purposes, He allowed it. Yet He arranged for my husband, who had been away on business the past month, to be home when it happened, with no trips in the near future.

I am incredibly fortunate. To be loved and cared for by this man, who can make me laugh in spite of the pain. To work with a bunch of praying people who are figuring out how to get things done in my absence. To be part of a wonderful church and Sunday school class who have offered to do whatever we need and who have relieved my husband from having to cook several meals. To be loved by God, Who sometimes forces me to slow down and focus on how suddenly life can change.

God, make me sensitive to the needs of those around me, and remind me every day that today may be the only day we have to meet those needs.

Blinkers

As I sat at a stoplight waiting to turn right, I watched a flock of cars turn left without signaling. Once again I wished that people would use their blinkers.

That started me thinking about how much easier life would be if we all had signal lights to warn each other what we were about to do. If my kids would signal when they were planning to go to a party where alcohol would be flowing. My husband would use his blinker to say that he was about to spend the evening watching football when I was hoping to go out to eat. My boss’s lights would warn me that I was about to hear about that mistake I made.

Would such a thing aid communication, or hamper it? Maybe we would be like some drivers: I’d see your signal and speed up to keep you from getting in my way. Or you’d pretend not to notice me trying to get on the freeway.

I guess God has given us signals, even if people don’t. His Word shows us how to stay on the straight road, and not turn to the left or to the right.

Most of us have not picked up a driver’s manual since we first got our license. Amazing how many rules we’ve forgotten, isn’t it?

In the same way, we have a tendency to forget God’s rules for our life if we don’t review the Book regularly. Oh, we remember the “big 10”—most of the time. But how often do we remember Jesus’ words about our hearts?

“You have heard that our ancestors were told, ‘You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment.’ But I say, if you are even angry with someone, you are subject to judgment!” (Matthew 5:21-22, NLT).

A little later, He told His listeners, “You have heard the commandment that says, ‘You must not commit adultery.’ But I say, anyone who even looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:27-28, NLT).

Ultimately, if we study God’s Word regularly, He’ll help us follow the better route of love, and we won’t need blinkers to signal our intentions to others, after all.

Missing in Action

I can't believe it's been exactly one month since my last post. I've missed writing my blog, but life got in the way, as it often does.

The past month included a wonderful visit with some of our family, attending an outstanding writers' conference, and a new twist on the work situation, as well as challenges for my husband as he headed to the Gulf Coast to do disaster inspections for FEMA. He's still there; you'd think that would give me more time to write, but you'd be wrong.

This is just a quick post to say I'm back, and I'll try to be more faithful about posting at least a couple of times a week.

When I think about it, that's the story of my life: eating healthy for awhile, then falling back into the unhealthy eating; exercising regularly for a few weeks, then missing a little, then quitting, all the while telling myself I will do it tomorrow; faithfully having my daily devotions for long periods of time, then skipping a day or two, then more, and before I know it, I've formed a "new" habit of missing my personal quiet time.

Fortunately for me, God is always faithful, and He's there waiting when I come back. Maybe someday I'll be able--with His help--to stay faithful day after day, week after week, year after year.

Right now, excuse me while I go have some ice cream.

Kicking and Screaming, Part 3

Back in July, I wrote about how God was pulling me “kicking and screaming” toward something that I really didn’t want to do.

I’m grateful that I was obedient, because God showed up—as He always does, of course.

The situation that I had been praying about for nearly three years changed "in the twinkling of an eye.” As I’ve come to expect with prayer, the answer wasn’t at all what I had prayed for or expected. But I have no doubt that it was—or will eventually prove to be—exactly the right answer.

What is even more surprising is that I suddenly found my attitude had changed. A week ago, I couldn’t even talk about this situation without crying or at least getting a catch in my throat. This past Sunday, I sensed that God wanted me to ask for prayer for other people as the changes unfold. Didn’t even occur to me to ask for prayer for myself. I told Him talking about it would make me cry. But He still insisted that I do it.

And I was able to talk about it—in general terms, of course—and ask for prayer for one individual in particular, without even getting choked up. It was the first time in three years, I think.

Maybe next time God wants me to do something, I won’t be so inclined to kick and scream.

“No doubt about it! God is good— good to good people, good to the good-hearted. But I nearly missed it, missed seeing his goodness. I was looking the other way” (Psalm 73:1-3, Message).

Hooked on Rocks, Part Two

The jury’s still out.

After finding gems in purchased buckets of dirt several weeks ago, we decided to try our hand at digging up our own dirt.

At one site, we paid to dig in some tailings from area mines, and spent about an hour looking for “color” in a pile of rocks and sand. Three different employees gave us three different ways to go about this. I was drawn to the white rocks but was quickly told that was just rock. It’s a lot harder to find color in dry sand.

We didn’t feel very successful, but when we sat at the sluice and washed our “keepers,” we discovered we had several nice sized garnets, as well as lots of quartz and moonstones. My husband thinks quartz is so plentiful that it’s not worth the effort, but it is pretty and can be made into some nice jewelry, so we kept it.

The second place we tried allows you to dig in the “mine” or to hunt for stones in the creek. We thought the mine sounded more promising, so we opted to dig. We discovered the mine was really just a series of open pits spread over a wide area, so we had no idea where to start.

It was Labor Day weekend, and the place was really busy, so the staff had no time to provide much instruction. We asked for advice and were told to “find the deepest hole and dig there.”

What we found was red Carolina clay with some layers of soft rock. We asked other diggers, but everyone else was a first-timer, as well. Finding “color” when the clay sticks to everything was even harder than finding it in dry sand. We picked through spades of clay, selecting a handful of rocks to examine more closely at the sluice. After washing the clay off, we had a few stones that might be garnets or emeralds, and again, several quartz-like pieces.

Unfortunately, the staff helping with identification had long lines and we decided not to wait to find out what we had found. For all we know, we may have brought back more red clay than gems, since the clay seemed to cover everything we wore, as well as our tools.

We came home with a determination to learn more before we go digging on our own again. It helps to know what you’re looking for.

I guess the spiritual application is this: God knows the treasure that is hidden inside each one of us. Sometimes it is not revealed to others—or even to ourselves—until we are washed clean by Jesus Christ.

Electronic Touchpad for Life

Life seems more like gymnastics than a race. But I think I’d prefer a race.

When Michael Phelps won the Olympic 100-meter butterfly by one-hundredth of a second, the electronic touchpad provided a clear, black-and-white decision. Even more than the slow-motion photography, electronics removed all shadows of doubt.

In gymnastics, diving, and tumbling, by contrast, the decisions are made by a complicated system of difficulty ratings and judges’ points. The variation between judges sometimes makes you wonder if they’re looking at the same competitor, or creates questions about objectivity. How can one individual’s dive be rated both a 6 and a 9 by different judges?

It sometimes feels as though we’re being rated in how we live. Did the way I treated my husband today deserve a 9.5, or was it only worth a 7.0? Was the lunch-table conversation with my co-workers worthy of a gold medal, or would we have been out of medal contention?

Fortunately, the only judge that matters in life is God. And He doesn’t play favorites, or use a complicated scoring method. In fact, He really has given us an electronic “touchpad,” of sorts. All He asks is that we “touch” His Son, Jesus Christ. “Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me’” (John 14:6, NIV).

If we receive Christ as Savior and seek to follow Him in all we do, we don’t have to worry about the score. All God asks is that we put forth the effort. He doesn’t judge us on how well we do, just that we ran the race.

But a “no decision” is a “no” decision. There are no silver or bronze medals when we die. Either we place our faith in Jesus and get to spend eternity with Him, or we don’t, and we will be separated from God forever.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24, NIV).