Time to Clean House - Literally, Virtually and Spiritually

Black Friday, our family was checking out computers on sale. While learning about gigabite memory, dual core processors and the like, we asked about software we have installed on our current computer. We wondered if we'd lose it all. Some programs, we were told, we would certainly lose unless we paid an extra fee to have the hard drive information transferred over to the new computer. I turned to my daughter and said, "You mean if we don't do this, we'll lose the Sims' houses?"

Now if you've never played The Sims, that comment means nothing to you. In this video game, you can create families and houses. I never got into playing the game itself, but I loved designing and decorating houses. I got to play architect, interior designer and landscaper. My kids know a cheat code, so my houses had no monetary limit. I could design whatever I wanted in the grandiest scale. I haven't played Sims in several years now, but when I was designing houses for my children's Sims families, I would spend hours crafting homes. And I had some pretty awesome ones. (Not the one you see in the picture above, however. Someone else made that beauty.) Therefore, my comment to my daughter - and trust me, it was sincere - was refering to the fact that we could lose virtual homes. Fake homes. Imaginary homes. Pixels and megabites, if you will. I was lamenting losing them.

When I heard myself say it, I was embarassed. I haven't looked at those houses in years. I spent so much time on them. Yes, I had fun doing it, but what a waste of time! I thought back to Christ speaking to the disciples at the Sermon the Mount where He says, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal."

Typically I'm a tosser - or a donater. I don't save what I don't use. I don't believe in wasting space. So a cabinet filled with Tupperware that I don't use to me is ridiculous. Yet for some reason, I was actually saving virtual homes on the hard drive of my computer!

While in prayer recently for several young men who I pray regularly for that do not believe in Jesus Christ, I thought about the wasted hours I'd invested in the Sims. Hours that could have been spent serving God's children, sharing His story of grace and mercy, reading and memorizing His Word or praying to Him. I was mortified at the lost time.

It's time for me to do a little house cleaning. December is always a great time to go through the stuff you have to decide what to keep, what to toss and what to donate. And yes, even a good time to clean houses off my computer. But I also need to do a little spiritual house cleaning as well and decide what needs more time, what needs fine tuning and what needs cast aside. Time to focus a bit more on those heavenly treasures, I think.

No more "Comen snada" for me. Comen snada you ask? It's Sims talk - they have their own language. I don't even know what it means, yet I remember the little virtual people saying it. Great ... I've even wasted brain space. Yes, definitely time for some house cleaning.

Wasting Away; Renewed Day by Day

There is a woodpile over the hill in my backyard. I didn't put it there. It was there when we moved in. When I found it, it was covered in vines and downed trees. After cleaning the overgrowth, I was able to utilize this wood for our many fall and winter campfires. Just recently when I went back there to get some dry wood, I'd found that a goodly portion of the pile had begun to decompose. Tiny bugs, weather and time itself have taken their toll on the cut logs back there. Many have decayed clean through. And there at the bottom of the woodpile, is the most beautiful earth you've ever seen. Those logs have been transformed into deep chocolate-brown loamy soil. I spent an afternoon recently digging up that dirt and filling a wheelbarrow, which I rolled up the hill to my garden. There I dumped it on top of the less hospitable soil I've planted my tomatoes, green beans and other vegetables into this past summer. Now nearly filling the garden plot, is beautiful black soil filled with nutrients God Himself supplied. I can hardly wait to plant my garden for next year.

How beautiful, how amazing is our God to take what wasn't being used and transforming it into something that not only will be used, but will make something else better! I like to think of us human beings in that same light. A friend told me recently she is lamenting leaving her family for the first time as she and her husband are relocating in the New Year. She wanted Bible verses to lean on in this transition. In addition to those verses, I gave her some advice from our many moves. I told her to find a church as soon as she could, for the church will become her new family. I also told her that every move our family has made has grown us spiritually. There is no doubt that we are closer to Christ, better servants and deeper in our faith with every relocation.

God is so wise and so good with this change. He's taken something that might not have been used in another place, and made it something that not only will be used, but perhaps make something else better. Scripture tells us that "Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day." (2 Cor.4:16). I can't wait for stories of God's plans for this young family after their move! How will they better themselves and God's Kingdom, I wonder. Just like the new soil will make for a better ecosystem in my garden, no doubt this move will make a better Kingdom of God! Glory to Him!

Waves of Life

My husband was holding me from behind with his arms around me as we stood in the Gulf of Mexico waste deep near the pier in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida. He rested his chin on my head and we stood staring south out over the beautiful clear blue-green water. My husband delighted in the calmness of the sea, with the small rolling waves breaking behind us closer to shore. I spent much of my time looking for the sharks I'd heard about that I thought would love swimming near the pier where fisherman cast bait over the railing.

Since the gulf was so calm, the sea was nearly flat with tiny ripples, but every once and awhile a wave would nudge us both enough to throw us off balance just a bit. We'd giggle every time it happened. Finally my husband profoundly said, "You know this is just like life. You think you have your feet firmly planted and something comes along to try to knock you over."

As we were celebrating our 23rd wedding anniversary there in the panhandle of Florida and reminscing over our years together, I thought about his analogy. Many times over those years we thought everything was stable, blessing after blessing, when all of a sudden something would happen to knock us off our feet. Sometimes the challenges were small and other times they were huge, difficult challenges that took much more time to recover from. Many times, it wasn't a recovery that occured, but rather a sharpening of sorts, winnowing perhaps or even a readjustment. No matter how firmly we thought out feet were planted in the sand, that has never stopped the waves. Brad was right. This was like life.

The morning of our anniversary as we looked at pictures from our wedding I asked my husband, "If you could go back in time to your newlywed self, what would you tell him?" He said quickly, "I would tell him to get his spiritual act together." I then asked, "Would you have listened to yourself?" Without hestitating he responded, "No, probably not." When asked the same question about what I would've said to that young bride in white silk organza, I replied, "Armor up, girl. There are challenges ahead."

When I think about the two of us standing in the cool waters of the gulf, I remember what each of us was doing at that moment, and how it reflects our outlook in life of late. My husband delights in the calm moments. You can hear him sigh, breathing in God's goodness. While I'm busy looking for sharks in the water, watching for the next challenge to head out way. It's just what our life experiences and spiritual journeys have brought us to thus far.

And no matter what waves are coming, it looks like between the two of us, with God as our anchor ... we've got a nice balance.

Enough Troubles For Today

Sitting at the end of one of my neighbor's driveways is a bowl of water, a bowl of catfood and a bamboo placemat usually with a feathery toy laying on it. It's right there near the road. It sits there because in the sewer that drains right there at the curb lives two feral kittens. Apparently my neighbor, while not claiming ownership of the cats, has not turned a blind eye to their need for food and water. It's full every day when I walk by.

Recently my pastor preached on Matt. 6:25-34 about worrying. Though I've read this Scripture countless times, this sermon couldn't have come at a more perfect time. Just recently, my sister was diagnosed with malignant melanoma. She has had surgery and awaits a meeting with a doctor to determine the amount and frequency of her chemotherapy treatments. Then just the other day, my father was diagnosed with the same thing. He is awaiting news from his doctor about surgery and whether or not his body can even handle the surgery since he is already dealing with a low white blood cell count due to his leukemia. If there was ever a time to worry about tomorrow, this is it.

But God assures me in the above Scripture that worrying isn't worth it. By worrying, I can't add a single hour to my life, Jesus says in vs. 27. I know by worrying I've lost more than a few hours, however. Jesus adds later in vs.34 tomorrow will bring worries of its own and to just handle today's troubles.

In the midst of that passage of Scripture, Jesus asks His disciples to consider the birds of the air and the lilies of the field and how God cares for them, adding "Are you not of more value than they?" It made me think of that neighbor down the street caring for these two kittens to make sure their needs are met. And it made me smile. I know God is going to care for my sister and father.

A friend recently asked me how I was doing after this latest health blow to my family. I said without hesitation, "I'm not going to worry about it, because Jesus told me it won't help anything." I'm going to spend that time praying instead.

Coming or Going?

I have a rip-a-day calendar titled "Islands" that has breathtaking photographs of islands all over the whole world. Recently, the photo for one day showed the Fakarava Atoll, a Tahitian island where you can do some excellent snorkling. The picture showed half under the turquoise water while the top half showed the palm-tree covered island above the water. Under the water, were some colorful tropical fish. I looked at the picture and thought these tropical fish were the cutest ever with their golden yellow faces, big black eyes and white and black tail ends. After some googling, I learned this tropical fish is called the Threadfin Butterfly fish. Then I realized upon closer examination that these cute little yellow faces were actually their tail ends. I was looking at the fish backwards. The face was the black and white striped end and the tail was golden yellow with a black dot on it. I chuckled when I realized my error and thought how clever of God to create a fish that just by looking at it you couldn't tell if it was coming or going.

I feel like this fish many days. With a scheduled packed with responsibilies that only seems to get added to, I feel sometimes like I don't know whether I'm coming or going. And I've got no clever creative coloring to fool those looking at me. By all appearances sake, I should be going in just one direction, but, like many folks these days, am tackling lots more than I probably should. My fear is I may start forgetting to do things I'm committed to or the quality of some things I'm doing will be diminished because of my overcommitment.

Our Father has given us 24 hours in each day, 16 of which we are normally awake for (unless you're my teenage son, then it's closer to 12). I do not think God intended for us to fill every moment of those 16 hours with multiple tasks, regardless of our ability to handle so many at once. I think He'd prefer we stick to the tasks He's called us to, gifted us to do, so that we do them well and do them with energy and love.

The other day I was between tasks and wondered aloud what I should do next. I heard the calming voice of my Father asking me to slow down, take a seat and enjoy some time with Him: time in prayer and in Scripture. It was truly the most beautiful, most relaxing and most fulfilling part of my day.

If you're feeling overwhelmed, overcommitted and, well, exhausted, perhaps it's time to say "no" to a few things ... and say yes, to a little quiet time with our Father. And after looking at this rip-a-day picture, I wouldn't mind spending some of that time on Fakarava Atoll. :)

Father of Compassion, God of All Comfort

I walk two miles every day, sometimes more. I take different routes through the neighborhoods adjacent to mine for some variety. On one particular street there is a home with seven garden gnomes under a magnolia tree. It's the same home that had lifesize carolers on the front porch at Christmas. I mention this because it's a home I notice everytime I walk by it.

More recently there has been another reason to notice it. This summer, nearly every time I've walked by this home, I have waved to the owners. An elderly couple lives there, I'm guessing in their 80's. And every day, the husband wheels his wife, still in her jammies, out onto the driveway. He brings out their black poodle to run out by the gnomes and sets his resin chair next to her wheelchair. And they sit there, sometimes in the sun, sometimes in the shade, waving to passersby and enjoying each other's company. They are always smiling. I am touched each time as I see him gently bringing his wife out to enjoy some fresh air. And I was especially touched when I saw him bring out a standing fan on a long electrical cord to blow a soft breeze on her during our hotter days. She still enjoyed the outdoors and people, but now with some comfort. It was truly beautiful to see. I asked my husband later, "Will you wheel me outside and put a fan beside me when I'm unable to do it?" He assured me he would, then added, "unless it's you wheeling me outside."

Our daughter, Ayla, visited a weekend recently. She's a workaholic and had exhausted herself to the point where her body was begging her to slow down. I got to coddle and cuddle her in an effort to try to get her rested and strong. I enjoyed caring for and loving on her. She is so precious to me, so her well-being is important to me.

I'm reminded in the caring of an elderly man for his wife and my love for my daughter of our Father's care for us. Jesus tells us in Matthew 6:8, we don't need to use a bunch of words in our prayers because God already know what we need. He knows our needs and wants to care for us. And who could possibly do a better job than the Creator of the universe. He knows what's best for us physically, mentally and emotionally. I love that he even knows the number of hairs on our heads (Matt. 10:30. Every time I brush mine and watch several fall out I'm telling God, "Recount!"). This is a God who truly, lovingly cares about the details, growth and abundant joy of His children. (2 Cor. 1:3-6)

I live for the day when I can sit by my Father in Heaven and delight in His company. I'm thinking I won't need to bring a fan to cool Him or a dog to entertain Him in Paradise, but I know I'll want to see to His comfort and serve Him. In the meantime, I'm going to love on His children here. I think He'd like that.

To Whom Are You Accountable?

I was a whipping post last week. The old saying "People shoot the messenger" is dead on, as I was getting quite the beating for delivering a few messages. In several instances last week, I felt called by our Father to "stand in the gap" between the world and Scripture and provide some Godly counsel to friends. Fully armed with the Bible and fully confident that God was doing the nudging, I went in with my whole heart sharing what He asked me to say.

What I hadn't counted on was that perhaps those friends didn't necessarily want to hear it. The reactions weren't ones of "Wow, that's exactly what I needed to hear!" but rather more along the lines of "Mind your own business." I was surprised and took personally the rejection of the messages.

Not going to God with the "What's up with this?" I instead vented to my husband. He responded with some Godly counsel of his own. He said, "To whom are you accountable?"

That silenced my pity party. I had forgotten who those messages were from. I had spoken exactly as the Father instructed and delivered it with the love and grace He's shown me over and over again. That doesn't guarantee God's message is welcomed with open arms. I had to be reminded of the many times Christ spoke and was pushed out of town to the point of hanging on a cross outside of one. Or Paul spoke and was flogged or stoned. I was grateful for that reminder from my husband.

I can honestly say even after his reminder, I was persuaded to never deliver another such message because of the hurt feelings I was nursing. That's when another friend, who is in my Christian accountability group, spoke up and said, "Isn't that exactly what Satan was hoping you'd do?"

This is not new information to me, but it sure is nice to have Christian brothers and sisters remind us of it when we face the very persecution Christ warned us about. The world hates hearing the truth and will hate us for repeating it, whether God told us to say it or not.

Have you ever seen the T-shirt slogan, "I'm the Christian the devil warned you about?" Yeah, well that's me. I'm armed with the Word and fully prepared to share it. Or how about that other T-shirt that shows a person getting out of bed and Satan is saying, "Oh, crap, she's up!"

It took a couple days and it took a few shed tears, but world ... I'm up.

Greater Love Hath No Man Than This

I am fiercely patriotic. I love America. I have stars snd stripes on the walls of my kitchen hanging near to a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Up until we moved to Alabama, an American flag flew every day at my home in Wisconsin (I just haven't found a place for it yet). I love red, white and blue. I love that our country has "under God" in its pledge. I admire our Constitution. And recently I painted a bird house with the words "God bless America" on it. "America is the home of the free, because of the brave," I once read on a bumper sticker. I couldn't agree more. We are a blessed nation with servicemen and women who put their lives in harm's way for the sake of our country. And I am grateful to them.

My grandfather, John Lauritzen, was one of those men. In 1945, he served in World War II, leaving behind a wife and four children ages 15, 5, 4 and 2. My Dad was the 5 year old. On Feb. 2, 1945, Grandpa wrote this letter/poem to my grandmother, Elizabeth:

My Dearest Mommy:
(never knew your Daddy as a poet, did you?)

I know I cannot write a poem
About a lovely place like home;
A home where my wife and children pray
Their Daddy soon comes back to stay.

I do know I will always feel
A love so deep, so strong and real;
That all this suffering I now see,
Will not in future bother me.

I want my mind and my heart, too,
To be reserved for all of you
To start where our lives stopped before
God, please, end all this darned old war!

How's that?

Love from your Daddy.

Two days before my grandmother received this letter, a telegram from the United States government was delivered to her informing her that my grandfather was killed in action Feb. 16, 1945. My Dad says he remembers Grandma sitting on her bed holding the telegram in her hand and sobbing. He says he knew, before she said anything, that his Daddy was never coming home again.

Grandma couldn't afford to have Grandpa's body shipped back home. Instead she was sent his belongings and what they found on his body ... which included two pictures: one of my grandmother and the other of his three preschool children. John Lauritzen was buried alongside 7,992 other American fallen in Germany at the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetary in Belgium. Just recently, my Dad made a trip there to see his father's gravestone cross. It's just one in a sea of white crosses arched across the grassy field. Dad said it gave him finally the chance to say good-bye to his father ... more than six decades later.

My grandfather fought, bled and died for America. Jesus, when refering to a sacrifice He was about to pay for all our sakes, said in John 15:13: "Greater love has no man that this, that he lay down his life for his friends." I am so proud of the grandfather I've never met. And I look forward to the day when I can thank him in person for his sacrifice. When I asked my grandmother about him once, she said, "He was the love of my life."

This Memorial Weekend, I am remembering with honor Americans who died serving this country ... like John H. Lauritzen, one of the brave.

Hardiness Growing Zones

It's raining as I type this. God is watering is beautiful creation and, thankfully, my garden, flower beds and lawn. That's something I have had to do myself a lot lately since it hasn't rained much prior to this for about a month. Typically I water about every two or three days, and if I miss one watering, my Black-Eyed Susans are the first to complain, shriveling and drooping.

But one thing I have never watered, not once, in my yard, are my crepe (crape) myrtle trees. It's because they grow like weeds here in Alabama. They are everywhere and nearly every one of my neighbors has one color of crepe myrtles in their yard - white, fushia, red, light purple or pink. They are just gorgeous and start blooming right about now. The interesting thing about crepe myrtles is you can prune them to the trunk and they will spout new branches, flowers and all, each summer to just the height you want. Some have gigantic crepe myrtles in their yards, and others have several all pruned to a shorter height to keep their blossoms at eye level. Little more than a month ago, you'd find these pruned crepe myrtles everywhere and they looked so strange, with stumpy trunks all over town like someone had tried to kill them by removing all their branches. But then they sprout leafy branches and not long after those gorgeous blossoms hanging like grape clusters all over.

The crepe myrtle was made for this climate ... as are the azaleas, dogwoods, magnolias, gardenias, mimosas and roses. They thrive here, and beautifully. All these gorgeous blooms to bring a smile to my face, yet one of my most favorite flowering bushes can't grow here. It's the lilac. It's just too warm for it here. I miss seeing the hundreds of lilac bushes all over our former state residence of Wisconin. And I miss their amazing fragrance.

The crepe myrtle was designed for this growing zone, just like the lilac is for climates further north. Neither survive in the other's climate.

This got me thinking about Christ's church and how Paul compares its members to various parts of the body, each designed to do something different. He talks about it in 1 Corinthians 12. "God arranged the members in the body, each of them, as He chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be?" Paul asks in verses 18 and 19. An eye can't do an ear's job and an arm can't do the job of the brain and so on. He's expanding on his discussion of spiritual gifts and how God has created each person with specific gifts to do certain jobs for building up His Kingdom. Some have the gift of hospitality, service, leading, teaching, preaching, etc. Not everyone can do every gift.

Christian women's Bible study creator Beth Moore has laughing recalled how when she was first called by God to a ministry, she thought she was to be a singer. She is an outstanding Bible Study writer, and I have been blessed by her more than a dozen thorough studies. I know I am further along in my spiritual life because of her Bible studies, there's no doubt. How much I would have missed if she would have become a singer! Her success would have probably been the same as my tropical palm tree that didn't survive our 17-degree temperatures this winter.

Then I think of the late Rich Mullins whose gift it certainly was to write and sing Christian music. You are probably aware of his classic song "Awesome God." It was his song "Calling Out Your Name" that brought me deep into the fold of Christian music ... eventually leading me years later to a new ministry as a midday host of a Christian music station.

Praise God for our different spiritual gifts! Praise God for how we use those gifts to bring God's children into a deeper relationship with Him!

What are your talents? How can you use those gifts to glorify our Father and encourage His precious children? If we develop those areas, those ministries will grow and flourish ... like crepe myrtles in Alabama or lilacs in Wisconsin, just as God arranged.

A Chance to Die

I remember crying the first time I heard this quote. It was in the 2006 movie "The Last Holiday" starring Queen Latifah. She played a woman who learns she's got just weeks to live. She says while looking in the mirror at herself: "Next time, we will laugh more, we'll love more, we just won't be so afraid."

For the last year or so, I've been afraid. Paralyzed with fear, actually. I went through a period in my life of doing something the Lord asked me to and got spiritually pummeled for it. I was beaten down so badly, that I withdrew from a lot I'd invested in, because it was safer not to try. You don't get hurt when you don't step out, was my rational.

Today I read two devotions that brought me to tears again. One was from the Upper Room for April 29, 2010 by Ebenezer R. Vedamuthu. It spoke about obeying God to "move into deeper waters" like Peter did in Luke 5:4. It asked: "How will we respond when God calls us to go deeper? Will we stay where we feel comfortable and safe, in shallow waters ... or are we ready to put our hand trustingly in God's and venture into greater spiritual depths? The reward will be worth it - a richer, more intimate walk with God and a more abundant life."

The second came from Our Daily Bread. In the April 28 devotion by Anne Cetas she tells the story of Amy Carmichael, a missionary in India for 55 years. When asked about her life, Amy responded: "Missionary life is simply a chance to die." It was then I started weeping.

I have commented often that I cannot wait to get to Paradise to be with the Father. Truly, I can completely relate when Paul says in Phil. 1:21, "For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." The problem was, I was forgetting to live.

While walking today, God is His perfectness, had a song come up on my ipod I've heard countless times. It's called "The Untitled Hymn" or "Come to Jesus." The song tells of a true spiritual journey ... sin, burdens, fear, loneliness, pain, storms, love, joy and eternal life with Christ. What I don't think I noticed before was that every single stanza ends with the same word ... live. "Fall on Jesus and live!" "Come to Jesus and live." "Cry to Jesus and live." "Dance for Jesus and live. "Sing to Jesus and live." "Fly to Jesus and live." In many ways, I'd forgotten about the living part.

A missionary's life is simply a chance to die. Every one of us is a missionary, whether in some other country in the world speaking to the children of God, or in our homes, workplaces, churches and communities. Everywhere we are is our mission field. If we are paralyzed with fear to step out into paths the Father leads us, we are missing out on prime missionary opportunities. And, yes, we're gonna fall and fail. But isn't that what living for Christ is about! It's a chance to die! Die to self for Jesus for His Kingdom, for His children. The Our Daily Bread devotion brought up Matt. 16:25 "Whoever desires to save his life with lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

It's time to start living again.

[image: Untitled Hymn/Come to Jesus by Chris Rice]

Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

I know it's been a long time since you've received a letter from me ,,, years and years. I've been very busy. Busy with life, as always. Enjoying my husband that you love and approve of so much. Enjoying my precious children and their growth and changes. Busy with home and job. And, of course, devoted to church just as you exemplified.

I'm writing to tell you about my garden! I can't tell you how much I enjoy digging in the earth, planting seedlings, watering, weeding, watching everything grow and then enjoying the harvest. I just love it! This year, I planted tomatoes, corn, green beans (which the bunnies seem to be leaving alone thus far), spinach, herbs like thyme, basil, cilantro and lemon mint and, most recently, asparagus crowns. They are two year old crowns, so it will be a year before I can enjoy that harvest. But you know I got my love of asparagus from my father who in turn got it from your father. He has told me often about Great-Grandpa's fresh asparagus for breakfast every morning when he visited as a child. I can't wait for that myself! I remember how much you love gardening, Grandma. I remember how in every letter you wrote me while growing up, you told me about your garden, everything you planted, how you were caring for it.

Which comes to the second reason for my letter today ... an apology. I remember being bored out of my mind when reading those letters. I used to think to myself, "Is that all she'll talk about is that garden?" I am so sorry for thinking that. Because, Grandma, I would so love to receive a letter from you today about your garden. I would love to get your advice on mine! Matter of fact, I would love to garden with you, dig in the dirt and watch with joy the fruit of our labor. I'm so sorry I didn't appreciate those letters when I had them.

Grandma, I'm sure you are delighting in the greatest garden of all time now, surrounded by beauty I cannot even imagine. I truly cannot wait to see what you see. Until then, I will put on my overalls and gardening gloves, grab my shovel and gladly continue to till our Father's earth. And I will share this love with my children and, hopefully someday, my grandchildren. And they will probably get bored when my letters go on about my garden. But you know, Grandma, I won't mind. Because when I write those parts, I'll be thinking of you, knowing someday, they may enjoy what we have both had so much fun with. And planting seeds not just for a garden, but for the many other things you helped grow in me.

I love you, Grandma, and miss you ... really miss you. Give Grandpa and Jesus a hug for me.

Love, Jill

Greater Works Than These

Brad and I had a rummage sale in February to rid ourselves of a bunch of stuff we just didn't need anymore or couldn't fit into our Alabama home. I truly hate to hold rummage sales because it's so much work for so little profit, typically. But we went ahead with what I'll now call our very last rummage sale ever.

We selected the date making sure that it would not rain that day. With all we had, we knew we couldn't keep it all under shelter. It was a brisk day, but no rain was on the horizon. Then we saw it, off in the northwest, a dark forboding front headed our way. It started sprinkling, then sprinkling harder. I couldn't believe our luck. I started praying something like this "Come on, Lord, are you kidding?" I quick ran in the house to grab some towels and sheets to cover everything and prevent as much water damage as possible, and the sprinkles kept coming. As I saw no break in the clouds, I remembered Jesus' words in Mark 11:23 "Truly, I tell you, if you say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you." And I also remembered John 14:12: "Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these because I am going to the Father."

I remembered those great works of Christ: healings, multiplications of fish and bread, water to wine, raising the dead ... and calming storms. So with confidence I said, "In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I rebuke you storm. You cannot rain here." It continued sprinkling. I looked up to Heaven and said grumbling, "Thanks, a lot."

Brad suddenly ran out of the house. "You would not believe what I just saw! I went to the Weather Channel website and typed in our address to see how much more of this storm was headed our direction. There was a huge red spot on the radar headed right for us. It suddenly made an abrupt turn, went around our street, then got back into the same path it had before and headed south."

My jaw dropped. A beastly storm was headed right for our rummage sale, and the Father knocked it out of the way. Those sprinkles, which lasted only a few more seconds, were nothing compared to what we could have had. God had answered my prayer in a mighty way. Jesus was right.

Jesus was right! Do you see the significance of this? In Christ's name, me, Jill Zimanek, wife, mom, sinful human, stopped a storm! Christ said we could do greater things than what He did on earth if we believed so that God would be glorified through Him. This morning I realized I'd shared that story with several people, but not to the extent that God's children should have heard. Now isn't that something worth glorifying Him for! He makes promises and keeps them. He loves us. He truly is the coolest God ever. Praise you, Almighty Father!

We can move mountains in Christ's name ... just believe.

Complete Coverage

Experience has taught our family that anytime you are at the beach, cover yourself from head to toe in sunscreen ... and I mean head to toe. Before even stepping out on the sand, our backs, faces, the part in our hair, ears, tops of our feet and even under the fabric edge of our swimsuits are covered in sunscreen. I use 85 spf. At the very least, we're rubbing 30 spf on. When we get sweaty or wet from the salty sea, we reapply. We're religious about it.

That doesn't mean we don't miss spots, however. The end of the day is quite revealing as we may have missed the spot under our forearm, the left side of our neck or even our knees. Once Ayla put her own lotion on her back and you could see her handprint where she stopped putting sunscreen on. Sure enough, those spots we missed are bright red and hot to the touch. It's interesting that something that only takes a few minutes to do saves us days of pain, not to mention the potential for skin cancer.

Applying sunscreen to prevent burn is similar to arming ourselves spiritually. We need to be sure to cover everything. Are we praying regularly? Are we immersing ourselves in Scripture? Are we worshipping regularly? Are we surrounding ourselves with believers? Are we reaching out in Christian love to God's children? Are we telling others about the grace of God? This time of focusing on our Lord is not for His benefit ... it's for ours. This world is trying everyday to get us to become of it and not just in it, to push our Christianity to the side and embrace whatever culture throws at us. Satan hunts for the unprotected spots; the places where we allow temptation to lure us. It's a never-ending battle, but God promises us that if we obey Him and keep the faith, we will be victorious.

I once saw a church sign that read: "Applying Sonscreen prevents burning." Indeed it does. It's certainly worth the time to apply it ... preventing a burn that doesn't just last a few days.

Even Nature Knows

For years we have traveled to Garden City, SC, to the condo of a dear friend, to enjoy our favorite vacation spot during Spring Break. We spend the week swimming in the ocean, collecting shells, sunbathing, building sandcastles, watching the dolphins leap by, feeding seagulls, avoiding jellyfish, delighting in sun and moonrises, catching anoles, starfish and coquinos, flying kites, playing football, frisbee or bocci or just praying, walking and breathing in the Good Lord at the ocean shore. We love to be there.

Typically when we go it falls on Holy Week. With Easter coming the Sunday following the first full moon after the spring equinox, we always get to see the full moon rise red out of the ocean then hover over a calm sea ... once with a halo and moonlight reflection in the ocean that looked like the cross of Christ.

But with all the fun we're having at the beach, often times we forget it's Holy Week. Never Easter, of course, but Maundy Thursday to celebrate the Last Supper and Good Friday often would succumb to sunny days at the beach, seafood buffets and late night dips in the hot tub.

Until one year we got a nice reminder from nature about the significance of the holiday. In 1999, we visited Garden City with Brad's parents and brother's family. We were having a great time together and the weather was so cooperative giving us warm temperatures and lots of sunshine. This particular Good Friday we were out on the beach as usual when suddenly a fog rolled in ... nothing like we'd ever seen before. It came out of nowhere thickly settling over the beach. It was so dense, we couldn't see the water anymore from our beach chairs. Brad and Anton were trying to play football and were having trouble seeing each other to catch. Looking at the time we noticed something interesting ... it was noon. We headed up to the condo to wait out the fog. And promptly at 3 p.m, it lifted. But the rest of the day remained gloomy. When we realized the fog was from noon-3 p.m, we realized the significance.

Luke 23:44-46 says: "It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon while the sun's light failed and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus crying with a loud voice said, "Father into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this He breathed His last."

Good Friday was very different for us that day. We all took notice of what nature was trying to remind us: an innocent man suffered and died on a cross nearly 2,000 years before for our salvation. God came down from His throne in Heaven to die for us. That is some profound kind of love. It was overwhelming and deep for us all. And we have never forgot it.

Likewise, we have not forgotten our sunrise service on the beach one Easter morning a few years ago. As the seagulls began to cry with the dawn, the sun just peaking over the horizon, we burst into singing my favorite hymn, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today." The church we worshiped with that morning had a large wooden cross standing in the sand and the sun rose behind it. I took a picture of that moment and it's on this blog page all the time. It was a beautiful, breathtaking moment in time.

I am grateful to God for these reminders in nature of the importance of the events that week. A horrifying death ... and triumphant, glorious life!

Seeing Stars

The first time I saw one, I thought they were so cool looking. The first time I stepped on one barefoot, I screeched in pain. The first time I stepped on one in my shoe and rolled my ankle I thought, "What good, exactly, is this thing?"

I'm talking about the sweet gum seed pods. They are spikey, round, hard pods about an inch or so in diameter that carry the seeds of the sweet gum tree. The Good Lord created them with this hard spikey outer shell to protect the more tender sweet gum seeds within.

The sweet gum tree is a beautiful hardwood native to the Southeast with leaves shaped like stars that turn purple, gold and red in the fall. Interestingly, its seed pods are star-like as well. Spray-painted gold and covered with glitter, they could make great Christmas ornaments, but step on one just once and you'll curse the tree they came from.

When I'm out for a walk and find them in my path, I kick them away to prevent others from accidently stepping on them. I've heard of people putting the seed pods in places they don't want dogs or cats to go to keep them away. Others plant them around garden seedlings underground to keep away slugs.

These sweet gum pods remind me of a few people I know. Not in appearance, mind you, but in personality when it comes to hearing about Jesus Christ. Hard, spiky folks rejecting the gift of grace. I've talked to a few of them about Christ only to get turned away, sometimes with nasty comments questioning my intelligence in an invisible God. I press on in faith - hopefully with gentleness and reverence as 1 Peter 3:16 says and not the passionate directness I more likely employ - in efforts to open their hearts to the mercy of the Almighty and salvation. I know the seeds are there within them, so I pray for them regularly, hoping the Lord finds another to water, soften and get them to grow in Him.

Every single person on this Earth is God's child. We, as Christians, need to find ways of loving them, praying for them and gently sharing the love of Christ with them. We also need to be prepared and educated enough to answer their questions as 1 Peter says a verse prior to the one above. It's what we're required to do, according to Matthew 28:19-20.

I know I'll encounter more and more sweet gum seed pods as they drop in my back woods, in the yard, on sidewalks ... and spiritually in my life. I'll be prepared for the latter with the Word in hopes they hear it, embrace Jesus and grow into strong Christian soldiers who will "shine like stars in the world" [Phil 2:14] ... without the spray paint and glitter.

Good As New

This morning as I was changing my sheets, I noticed a large split in the seam of my fitted gold sheet nearly top to bottom. I'd seen the hole earlier, but this morning knew something had to be done. Pre-Recession, I might have just trashed it and got another fitted sheet to match. However, luxury is not a word in our vocabulary right now. So I got out the sewing kit and in 30 minutes the seam was repaired. As I put the sheet on the bed, I noticed an opposite seam splitting. So rather than wait until it got worse, I repaired it as well. The fitted sheet was as good as new.

Later in the morning, I went to put on a pair of copper loop earrings when I noticed how tarnished they were. My first thought was trash them, but instead I got my jewelry cleaner and polished them up as good as new.

It was then I realized how disposable I'd become in my thinking. If something had become less than perfect it was time to throw it away and get something new.

Then I saw my palm tree. I think it may be dying. Just recently we were hit with a stretch of temperatures in the teens. When I bought my palm tree last summer it said, "Hardy to 20 degrees." Knowing our bitter temperatures of late could be detrimental to the palm tree, I covered it each night to keep off the frost. The first few nights it seemed to do okay, but two days ago the fronds started dropping. I cut off the fronds that snapped to the ground. Then I prayed to God to save what is left of the tree. I love to look at my palm tree. It makes me smile. And it's not something I want to toss or replace. I'm doing what I can to help it, but wondering if the palm will grow and thrive.

When I think of my many faults and weaknesses, I wonder if the Lord ever says to Himself, "Time to toss her and replace." I do think a time will come when He does just that, but for now, He's sewing seams, polishing what's tarnished, cutting off what's dead in me and hoping I will grow and thrive. I hope with the years left in me, I can be useful for God's Kingdom, growing it and sharing our Father's love with the lost and lonely. All of us, no matter how used, worn and broken, can be healed by the Father ... good as new. Praise our Lord Jesus for that!

Snuggling When You're Not Sick

When my children were little, getting them to sit down and snuggle was a next to impossible. Filled with boundless energy, they had people to see, things to do, places to explore. So any moment where they might actually want to sit next to me and cuddle, I delighted in it. And typically anytime they were ill was the most common time for that cuddling. With little energy for anything else, we'd sit on the couch together and snuggle, reading books, talking or watching television together. It may sound twisted since my children were ill at the time, but I loved those moments.

I have noticed on my spiritual journey that I am much the same as my children. When things are going well, when I'm too busy, I have a tendency to not find my quiet alone-time with God - to "snuggle" with the Creator, as it were. And inevitably when I am ill, whether physically or spiritually, I'm all about the snuggling. I wonder if God wraps me up in His mighty arms, me sitting there ill on His lap, and if He smiles, thinking how much He enjoys this time with me ... and wishes it were more often.

I'm thinking God doesn't deserve that. I think He deserves the well me and not just the sick me. He is so special, important, awesome and loving, that I should be able to cozy up to Him every day to talk and read His Word. I work my schedule around many ridiculous things, truly, like some insignificant television series for example. Surely I can fit snuggling with God in there. We could talk about what I'm up to, what I need to fix, needs of my friends and family and how I could serve His children better. And what better time to do that than when I'm healthy!

I'm feeling pretty good right now. I think I'll go thank Him for that.