Category: My Thoughts

I believe. I believe. We say it like a mantra when we desperately want something to happen. I said it when I was a child.  I believed my father would become a Christian. For years, as I spoke to the starlit, country sky, I was certain it was God’s will for our family.

Our parents were divided over most things, like having friends over for dinner. Daddy didn’t want company, while Mama was outgoing and thrived on conversations. Daddy  worked in the field with the cattle; Mama read books voraciously. Daddy bailed hay on Sundays; Mama went to church. I thought Daddy’s salvation would solve all of their problems and consequently mine.

My parents divorced when I was 17 years old and my faith took a nosedive. My trust in God plummeted. If God had not heard my life-long, heart-felt prayer, how could I trust him? Did I not believe enough? Not have enough faith in God? What went wrong?

I struggled with this concept for years. If a child lays ill with a fever, is God obligated to heal him if I have enough faith? If my grandmother goes to the emergency room with a heart attack, will my prayers be effective? Will my believing be enough to heal her? If a little girl in Africa needs food, will God give her nourishment if I earnestly pray and believe?

Is my belief the key? Is my weakness or unbelief the cause of heartache and inaction on God’s part? Those may be questions we all wonder about.

One of the keys may be the belief part. What do we put our belief in?  Do we trust in God or in our belief? Perhaps it’s like a test.

If God did not restore my parents’ marriage would I still believe in Him? Believe that He is in total control.  God is not obligated to hear our prayer or act on our prayers.  He does however, listen to our hearts.

My prayer as a child was self-centered.  I wanted my world fixed, to be better, improved. I wanted my parents to stay together, to be happy. Was this a bad prayer, a wrong belief?  No, marriages are sanctified, vitally important to God, but my focus was wrong. I prayed for the wrong reason.  I prayed for myself. And yes, I thought about my father and his eternal life, but that was not the primary motivation for my prayer.

God searches our hearts, and if our prayer does not relinquish all control to Him, maybe we fail the test. If we believe our own prayers can persuade God to act, then we have not relinquished control. For example, if we are ill and do not get better and must go to the hospital, are we angry at God for not healing us? 

We like having control. But we have to trust in God and His wisdom and might, not in our prayers and our belief.

Does God want what is best for us? Most certainly.  But God and I may differ in what is best. I may believe health is essential. God may differ. He may see a larger picture or a bigger plan.  He is in a battle for the souls of the world, a bigger job than health.  If better health can help in the battle, bring people closer to God, then God will heal. Inversely, if a death will touch many lives, promote spiritual strength and enlightenment, then God may allow a death.  Do we believe in God enough to allow him to do whatever He chooses? Are we willing to give ourselves up to God? Do we choose God or do we choose ourselves?

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. Romans 8:18

The quickest way to meet God is through praise. When we thank Him even in our difficulties, we give up something–our human desire to understand everything and our need to control the circumstances around us. 

The Bible gives many illustrations of praise being an attitude that changes tragic events into great events. For example, look at Paul and Silas. (Acts 16:19-40).  They sang hymns and praised God while they were in jail, before they knew what was going to happen!  Anything but praise attributes more power to someone or something other than to God.

In unhappy or disastrous situations, God steps into our lives when we thank Him for the situation itself.   Mostly, He changes us on the inside, changes our understanding of life.

It’s like looking at a negative of a photograph; the image looks backwards.  The black looks white and the white looks black. We don’t understand.  To develop the photograph, the negative is plunged into the developing solution.  It becomes clearer and more correct. Darkness turns to light and the result is a truer picture. 

When we praise God by an act of choice, by our own free will, we accept the present circumstances and take a positive position.  By beginning to thank God even in hard times, we take our less-than-good situation and plunge it into the photographer’s fluid, which is the Presence of God.  We may not see the results right away, but as we praise God and wait, we will meet Him.

Written after reading one of Catherine Marshall’s book

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• The Power of Praise and Worship (ptl2010.wordpress.com)

I Love Lucy was a hit. We watched til we dropped. Our oldest six grandkids came for the week and we had a 1950’s theme. Crammed full, the first day we made individual homemade pizzas and root beer floats, then brought out the karaoke machine. They sang The Peppermint Twist and Great Ball of Fire with gusto!

We visited the Big Red Barn located on Route 66 and POPS, a diner with thousands of different flavors of bottled pop, collecting bottles and bottle pops. And yes, they liked it.

Since we couldn’t go to the drive-in (the two youngest children had to be in bed before dark) we made our own cardboard cars and watched movies in the living room.

My mother, their Great-Grandma Margaret, came one afternoon dressed for the 50’s and helped us make old-fashioned molasses taffy, so we had marathon taffy pull.

Contests included: hula hoops, jump rope, tops, yoyos and bubble gum blowing. I limited swimming to one hour because of the heat here – over 110 degrees F. We blew bubbles, ate watermelon, fed the geese in the backyard, and played spoons.

Me, the picture-taker, took pictures all week, and each child worked on their scrapbook. My daughter, the scrapbooker, came to help finish up.

The big event, of course, was a Sock Hop. We spent time decorating, then dressed up in poodle skirts, cat eye glasses, and slicked back hair. Our nice neighbor owns a 1957 Chevy, and he let us take pictures in front of it. My sister loaned us her record player, so we had the authentic Elvis Presley 45rpms, including Jailhouse Rock, Shake Rattle and Roll, Hound Dog, and Don’t Be Cruel. What a party! Even I learned the hand jive.

Puppet Plays and devotional time with stories from Even Donkeys Speak by Mary McDonald. Prayer time. Crazy times. Sweet times. The kids kept me on track as to what is most important. Being together and making memories.

I’ll always remember this special week. I have some awesome, talented, God-gifted grandchildren. Each one is precious.

The delicate gold, crafted button looked stolen from a palace, jumping from the pages of a history book, worn by a princess centuries ago. Where did it come from, this one beautiful ornamental button lost among granny’s dull, colorless mundane tools, kept to replace lost shirt buttons and hold the back of dresses together?

Ten-year-old Saretha’s precocious mind wandered. How many times did she feel like that?  Lost among hundreds of people with no purpose, only beautiful to look at and admire.

Even granny would say, “My, my honey, look how pretty you’ve gotten. With those long blond curls and big blue eyes. You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.”

Saretha would grimace. She was more than outward beauty! Her mind escaped, racing to escapades and mysterious secret hiding places where no one else could see.

“That’s my favorite button.”  Granny broke into her reverie.

“Why?” Saretha asked startled.

“When I was a little girl, my grandma gave it to me. She brought it from London when she went on a visit.” 

“And you kept it all these years?” Saretha’s eyes widened. Older than her adored gray-haired grandma who looked nearly a hundred years old?

“Yes. It’s made of pearl, trimmed with gold, handcrafted, which makes it unique. A treasure among the many.”

“It’s lovely, granny, but not really good for anything like these others. It would look silly on the front of daddy’s shirt.”

Granny smiled. “You’re right, honey. It would look at mite ridiculous, but I’ve always imagined it belonged to a King’s daughter. She must have lost it on the road to the Canterbury Castle one day.”

“So why do you keep it?” Saretha asked.

“To remind me that beautiful things are important, too. Each button has its place and purpose. Some day, I’ll find just the right golden dress for it. A long, flowing one,  ornamental to match the button. I can see it in my mind’s eye. It’s okay to dream, child.” Granny gave Saretha a big hug, “God gives us beautiful things for a reason. Like He gave me you.  I needed a gorgeous little girl to bring me joy.”

“So that’s why God made me pretty?”

“Yes, honey. You make me happy, but that’s only one of your many gifts.” Granny handed Saretha the button. “Here, you can have it. God has a special use for this beautiful button some day. Keep it safe and hold it close.”

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart… Ecclesiastes 3:11 

God used Aunt Blanche to prepare me to care for my dad. After all, by taking care of Blanche, I learned to deal with cranky people who revel in cuss words, stubbornness, and nasty attitudes. She taught me to ignore slights and idiocycrincies and to quickly change the subject when tempers threaten to jump overboard. Those lessons are essential with my father.

I must say, Dad, at 81 years old, has had it rough. His complaints about bad docs almost proved sound – once I took him to my family doctor. Bless my doc, he listened to Dad’s list of health issues, took a thyroid test and gave him a prescription. He also sent him to a podiatrist for the sore on the bottom of his foot, which didn’t look good, especially since he’s a diabetic. Sorry, Mis, I know you don’t like references to feet.  🙂  And no one seems to like the idea of taking Dad to a podiatrist for a foot massage.

We spent over an hour at the special shoe store trying to find something with ankle support, arch support, wide toes for his hammer toes, and won’t irritate his sores. Good luck. Dad’s down on orthotists at the moment. Says his wounds are their fault.

After doctoring Dad’s wound, the foot doc said she’d contact a home health agency for wound care. Took us four phone calls and a week later they showed up. Good thing it wasn’t life-threatening. Needless to say, Dad’s down on home health care at the moment. I was hoping it’d work out – for future needs. We’ll see.

Then we went to a rheumatologist for the arthritus and swelling in his hands and feet. Dad didn’t like the doc because he said Dad has osteoarthritus in almost every joint, and nothing can be down about  it except pain control. He also said Dad has osteoporis which Dad said was impossible since he drinks a glass of milk every morning. Why would he need more calcium? They took a blood test to check on gout and Vitamin D etc. Of course, the doc was a foreigner, so that didn’t help Dad’s opinion. PS. I liked the docs.

So you see, learning to deal with difficult people may help as you get older. You never know who might need your help, and it’s better to be prepared. Let go of the irritation, be patient, and learn to love one another – in spite of their weaknesses. And please learn this soon. I might be the next one needing help.