We’re all Prodigals

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him”………from the Prodigal story book of Luke.

I wasn’t going to blog this morning. It will be a tough day, full of challenges. Elaine’s Mom will be moving into her new home today. When everything is done, the tidal wave of emotion will come, but not yet. There is too much to do.

I was trying to think of a word for this year, and right away the word, faithfulness came. After that, it was restoration. Then it was committment. So maybe I don’t have a word yet for this year and that’s okay. I have always had a problem with too many choices. Maybe later today God will bring forth a winning word, but right now the thing that drove me to the keyboard was the idea that wouldn’t let itself rest:

We are all prodigals.

I thought how we all tend to distance ourselves from the story of the prodigal; as if we never came back to God ourselves. Yeah, right. Every single one of us belonged to God first. We were His children from the beginning. None of us is coming to Him for the first time, we are all making our way back to Him. I don’t know about you, but I had to wallow in a few pigsty’s before I came back.

So the question I pose today is, “What’s your pigsty?”

Before I came back, I worshipped many years at the temple of self-indulgence, rebellion, self-hate, anxiety, fear……you name it, I rolled in it.

I played the role of Superhero when I selfishly and recklessly withheld food from my own body, the healthy body He gave me. I proved myself a rotten steward. But He didn’t forget me. Through the prayers of my parents and others He brought me back. Then he and I had the long work of restoration together.

I spent time in the haze of alcohol dousing grief and guilt, and then after the grief disappeared the desire for alcohol didn’t. That was another pigsty I had to climb out of.

And the truth is, life is a continual process of coming home, coming back to Him. Jesus came to this earth to love those living in the pigsty, and until we get comfortable loving those who have been there, or are there still, we will never be of any use to the Kingdom.

He sees us as washed and cleansed and healed, how we could be, how we will be.

But until then, each one of us is that lost son or daughter, walking on our own dusty road home toward our Father’s kingdom.

And He waits for each one of us with open arms.

Seeds…….

This morning was one of those mornings I woke up about 2 hours before I actually had to get up. It was 2 AM when I looked at the clock. When I stirred, my little white cat came up as he usually does to snuggle and fitted himself like a furry spoon into my chest. His purr was the only sound in the room. The morning commute hadn’t yet started.

As I lay there in the dark, in the quiet, a thought dropped silently like a pin on carpet.

Sometimes writing is like throwing seeds up in the wind……….

You never really know if your words will hit good ground, or any ground at all for that matter. There is only one reason to write, and that is because you must. Writing is a writer’s way of making sense out of the world around. It is our magnifying glass and it is not always so gratifying. We pour our hearts out and think, this will really resonate with someone. And sometimes it does, but not always. And that’s okay.

The truth is, writing hurts sometimes. It’s like cutting yourself and waiting for someone else to staunch the flow but no one’s running up with a roll of gauze so you have to go get it yourself.

Other times it rewards you greatly. When that happens you feel on top of the world. You know you’re doing the thing that God meant for you to do.

Sometimes you actually get to see the flowers resulting from the seeds you threw up months, even years ago.

Other times you feel like the words are scattered to the four winds as soon as they hit the page. And sometimes you question why you keep doing it because you start to feel like an abused spouse going back to the abuser.

But no matter, we will keep going back whatever the outcome.

Because the little everyday moments of life are too important to miss.

And because it’s what we do.

A New Chapter

The moon was bright this morning and the desert air had a snap to it and my nose stung breathing it in, but it is marvelous. Forty degrees is a wonder when you think that four months from now it will be creeping into the hundreds already. My mind was already mentally ticking off tasks today as I settled down to pray, but I put all those thoughts to rest temporarily as I focused on what really matters.

Just being with God and resting in His presence before I start the day seems to make everything go smoother.

Today, I will make some edible Valentines to send off to my girls, and Wal-Mart is on the list. Later this morning Elaine and I will visit the carehome director to see just what kind of room her Mom will have, shared or single. We are praying for single. She doesn’t co-habitate well with strangers, but if a double is available we will have to make it work. She just may surprise us all.

Saturday is moving day for her Mom, and Elaine is having a hard time this week. Sending her away in the state she is now feels much like putting a special needs child on a bus to boarding school, and though her Mom is demanding and not nice, Elaine still wants her to have what she likes and what she needs. It’s not easy to cast aside what has enveloped and consumed your whole life for the past 5 years. She worries like the parent now. But it is time.

Yesterday her Mom got in the cabinet and took Elaine’s pills in addition to her own. That was a first.

And a few days ago she came in to find the glass carafe sitting on the stove, which was still warm. She also didn’t seem to know her own husband when she went to see him just the other day, that was another first. It has been a week of “first’s” I guess. But it is all working out, and I think at just the right time.

Freedom looms on the horizon and although she is too scared to believe it she made plane reservations for the first vacation she has had in a very long time. She told me she feels much like a prisoner walking out of prison, afraid the gate will be slammed in her face before she gets to the other side.

Just yesterday she said, “I won’t take a deep breath until we drive away from the carehome.”

I took Saturday off to help out, and a very nice co-worker of Elaine’s has offered a dresser and help with delivery. Day by day things are falling into place. We are shoring up for a battle.

She will not want to stay. She will want to come home. She will probably be very angry.

And prayers are always appreciated, of course.

Letting the rain speak

I was presented with a gift this morning, it was the pitter patter of rain on my little tin roof. I thought I should give God the respect to stop and listen instead of opening my windbag of prayer requests right away, so I settled back and did just that. Thank you God, for letting me hear You in it this morning. Rain is somewhat of a miraculous thing in the desert. It makes the news. We go outside and gaze at the clouds to see what direction they’re moving to see if we will get more. And Arizona is the only place I have ever experienced the curious phenomena of rain in the front yard and blue skies in the back.

The thought of rain can incite different things when you are in a tent. Fear and dread. Of course the sound of rain on canvas has its own kind of magic, but it’s never a good feeling when you realize you forgot the plastic tarp.

After I thanked God for the gift of the rain, I brought a few before the Throne. For me there is always a readjustment of sorts when I pray, a pulling back, thinking who do I think I am anyway, to enter into that Holy of Holies? Then I remember that when He looks at me He sees me just as I am, but He also sees His Son superimposed in my heart. He tells me that I should come boldly before the Throne, so I do.

Once again I run like a kid into my Daddy’s office where He’s working and though sometimes I think He has every right to shoo me away impatiently He never does. He grabs me……and hugs me, and in His eyes I see nothing but love.

Today in my Bible reading plan, one of the Chapters was Matthew 10. I wondered how it applied to me, here in my comfortable chair, here in my place of peace. I will probably never be flogged in any synagogue, or be brought before any governing authority and be questioned about my faith. I haven’t cured anyone of leprosy lately, or of anything else for that matter.

But this is what I love about Jesus. He spoke to me in those verses anyway. And just when I was feeling like I was less than anyone I read about in Scripture, He assured me that He loves me very much. And as He spoke to my heart, He told me the most important thing I could do here in my corner of the world is to be a conduit for His love, and to not let those things like anger, bitterness, impatience crop up so that the gifts of His Holy Spirit can’t come through.

And He also told me that this little blog can be a perfectly good testimony for Him because in it, I tell others what wonderful things He does in my life, every single day.

Thanks, God. You just have a way of reminding me everyday of just how wonderfully you love me.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Ephesians 5:22-25

Why Bach made me cry this morning

I heard the announcement for the Brandenburg concerto before it came on and I was glad. I was on my way to work, with all the people I care about swirling around in my head. Some of my best talks with God are on the way to work. I see the Ford F-150 I see everyday and I pray for my brother because that’s what He drives. I pray for my Mom and Dad who despite their advancing years, have little down time for themselves and so I pray for them too.

And I was praying for Elaine too. Today she has to deal yet again with the director of the care home her Mom will hopefully be going into soon. The truth came out yesterday after he hemmed and hawed and he said, “Well, I don’t really agree with the caseworkers’ Level 1 assessment…..and I really don’t deal with her anyway, I have my own……and actually we get less money from the state for Level 1 care…..” Really.

“Unless,” he said, “the family is willing to contribute monetarily.” So it seems it’s mainly about the money not the care, and that’s disheartening. And when I think of how much stress she is under already, I don’t know why she should have to put up with this as well.

The first strains of music started playing and I wasn’t prepared for the tears when they came. Mascara liquefied as I tried to staunch the flow. All of a sudden, I was 18 again. It was the fall after I had purchased my first stereo, bought with my own money. When I got a real job, it was the first thing on my list. It cost me either $179.00 or $79.00, the years and inflation have skewed my memory on that one.

It took up my whole closet with big tower speakers placed strategically apart on either side of the room. My first classical music album was borrowed from the public library. It was Vivaldi, but one of my first actual purchases was the Brandenburg concertos by Bach. That fall I listened to them over and over.

I would gaze out my bedroom window and watch the gold leaves fluttering in the wind as I listened to that music fill the room and those moments solidified in my mind. Anytime I remember fall back then that’s what I think of.

Right along with cracking walnuts on the garage floor, Halloween, crackling fires, flannel shirts and coconut rolls from the bakery on the corner.

My Mom would tell me to turn it off because it made her nervous. The fast parts anyway. And the slow parts she said made her sad. I think that was what sparked the tears this morning, thinking of her. And my tears fill all over again at my desk just now, because I love her and she is much too close to Heaven for my comfort level and so is my Dad.

And I just want to tell everyone I care about right now, how I wish everything could be easier and I wish I could make it that way for them. And just when I was feeling like one of those silly sentimental people who cry at the drop of a hat I looked across the street and the silly fountain on the corner seemed to be squirting right in time to the music.

It was a Grace moment.

I have learned that God does those things all the time. We just don’t notice all the time. But today I did. He always seems to find a way to make me smile, God does.

Miracle in the parking lot

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Lately, it has been hard to keep emotion under control. Always, it threatens to break like a breach in a dam when it finally gives way. She is in the last stages, (she sincerely hopes) of placing her Mom in a care facility. In between her bus route this morning she was doing her other job, collecting paperwork for the placement process. If you are a private pay patient it’s a whole different scenario; they wave you in like royalty, roll out the red carpet, fresh flowers in the room and all that, but her Mom is not. When you are dependent on the State, you have to jump through hoop after hoop. Today was yet another visit by yet another case worker. And really, they have been very cooperative….for that we are thankful.

But lately, she has begun to lose hope in the process. It is wearing her down.

Behind weary eyes she confides her fears……”It’s not going to happen, I’ve resigned myself to it.” She feels like giving up, and I am doing my level best to convince her that we are at the tail end. Right now, that’s my whole goal, to give a fresh supply of hope. To help her along and be her strength when she has none.

Just now, as I type this, her Mom is taking a plate of food out to the living room, balanced precariously. I know that potato chip crumbs will end up all over the floor I just vacuumed. But that part doesn’t matter anymore. That’s small stuff.

When you are a caregiver it seems like nobody notices all the hundreds of little things you do, certainly not the one you are caring for. Sometimes you need a little verification that God sees you, that He’s still there. Today, as she was finishing up at her Dad’s care home she noticed two folded pieces of paper half hidden under a tire. Something made her stop and pick them up. Opening them, she found two beautifully handwritten pages of prayers:

Two pages of hope.

At the top of each prayer was a verse:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

Who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? 2 Samuel 22:32

Just when she needed it most, a sign…..and those notes may as well have floated down from Heaven itself. I would love to know who wrote two such beautiful prayers. They must have needed some confirmation as well. I find myself wondering what set of circumstances led them to it? We will probably never know, but I would love to tell them how much their words helped.

To honor the one who prayed I am including one of them below:

Often, when people are experiencing problems, or if they need advice, they turn to a friend for help. But human effort always falls short. If you find yourself in a difficult situation, don’t underestimate the power and love of God. Complete healing flows from an absolute and unconditional trust in and surrender to the living Christ. It doesn’t matter what your problem is, the only lasting solution is to be found in the unfathomable love which God through Jesus, bestowed on humanity. Never be too proud or too afraid to turn to Jesus. Lay all your problems at His feet. He gave His life for you and will grant you the healing balm of His peace.

I want to hold on to you Lord, when the storm winds blow and I feel insecure. Grant me your peace. Amen.

An unknown writer

This is our miracle today. I thank you, whoever you are who wrote that. I hope you found the help and peace you were looking for, we certainly did.

The Proof of the Cross

As I type this I hear the roar of the fire engine as it comes down my street. The lights were flashing today, that means there is still hope they are alive, though the siren wasn’t on. In a retirement community this happens a lot. Living here there are more than the usual reminders of the thin line of mortality. That can be a good thing. The residents here keep a healthy attitude about it, we all call it the meat wagon. Yes, it is kind of sick but a healthy sense of humor goes a long way, and behind the humor there is caring. It’s a close-knit community.

This morning, after I lit the heater in the shop where I pray I went out briefly as I always do to gaze at the stars. I felt the Presence of God there with me and I was thankful once again for the gift of seeing Him, feeling Him. I grabbed my coffee and settled in my chair, the heater sputtering warmth on my feet. I opened to the story where Abraham goes to the mountain to sacrifice Isaac and for the second time in two days I run into another speed bump in the Word.

As I read, I felt my faith shrink and shrivel away to almost nothing.

Who on earth could measure up to that? And what kind of kid would go along with it and how much faith did he have to have, and wouldn’t he have argued? Wouldn’t have he refused to get up on that pile of firewood? And how could God even ask such a thing, even knowing He wasn’t going to make Abraham go along with it.

I wrestled and I wrestled, as I always have with this passage. And there in the flickering light, I asked God how it is that He can love me, knowing I will never do anything as big as that. Knowing how small my faith is? And then the answer came and nestled softly in my heart. “I love you because my heart is big enough for everyone, even those whose faith is small.” Then I remembered the mustard seed and I smiled through my tears.

The God who loves Abraham loves me too. And suddenly the story all fit together, it all made sense. It was all meant to be and I have my own small part in eternity just like Abraham had his.

God loves me, the proof is in the cross.

Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:29

“Jesus, your words are troubling me again.”

Jesus, your words trouble me. Just started a new Bible reading plan and ran into my first major speed bump on day 7. I have read these words so many times and yet when I read them today I had to close my Bible and have a conversation with God.

It’s funny how I breezed through all the other verses so easily. It was all black and white, all so right, that is until I got to this verse:

^“But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also.”

It is one of those many troubling things that Jesus said, and I could not seem to sail over it as easily as I did all the others.

It’s because when I read it, I kept thinking of an incident that happened just recently in my hometown. A 91-year-old lady was beaten within an inch of her life, one very well-known in the community and known to my family, when two thugs broke in to her home. She had just come in from watching a bicycle race that was going by her house when they followed her in.

I think they got a TV but that’s about it.

Her husband was home at the time but out in the back doing work in their orchard when it happened. She managed to live through the terrible ordeal after spending weeks in intensive care.

I am having a hard time reconciling the events I hear about each and every day with this verse. I hear about someone breaking into a store and I want to cheer when I hear the shopkeeper had a gun and they used it. I want to defend what is mine, what I have worked for. And I want others to have the right to do the same.

I am struggling with this hard saying today, because I look at all the evil in our society and I think that they are taking over and we have to take it back.

I think of places in my childhood that used to be safe and they aren’t anymore and that’s sad; so many places taken over by thugs and gangs and drugs.

And what if, God forbid, something should happen to my own folks like what happened to Mrs. Kezsler? Could I truly forgive?

No doubt the Israelites struggled with what Jesus said too. After all, they were an oppressed people, ruled over by an evil empire for hundreds of years up until then. They thought He would free them, and He did, but not how they were expecting, but with love, forgiveness, the cross.

And today I guess He came how I wasn’t expecting either.

I realize again, that all battles start and end in the heart, and I only have to look as far as the cross for my answer.

I didn’t plan for this message today, but it seems fitting, the day we celebrate Martin Luther King’s life and legacy. His message still rings clear after all these years:

” Hatred paralyzes life; Love releases it. Hatred confuses life; Love harmonizes it; Hatred darkens life; Love illuminates it “

Join me at the foot of the cross today, in prayer for our nation. I am thankful that no matter who is in the White House, my God is still on the Throne.

Minimizing regret

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14

If there is one thing that pain and loss and life have taught me it’s that if I live each day with the goal of wanting to please God more in thought word and deed, I greatly minimize the things I regret.

I never seem to regret doing the right thing in hindsight, only the wrong things.

Anger, resentment, worry, selfishness…..all those petty little things I let come between myself and others mean nothing in light of eternity. And now, when time and God have mellowed and aged me, well, more like knocked me upside the head, I would give anything to have those years back.

Time that should have been cherished is forever tainted and that can’t be changed, but I can do something about the time I have right now.

I can cherish it. So today I will gather my loved ones close around me like a precious bouquet. I will inhale deeply, appreciating the sweetness they bring to my life while I still have them. And if they are not near, I will remember to write or call.

Dwelling on the past is never healthy, and yet not all looking back is bad, because it can inspire us to change how we live now. Though my heart aches with scar tissue memory of words I never should have said and things I never should have done, I don’t waste my time punishing myself because there is too much love to give now.

And there is no time to waste. Because time is precious and years have wings.

When you need to find your way home

Sometimes it is very easy to get lost amidst all the traffic online. Being engaged in social media can be a good thing, but it can also make you feel lost in a crowd. You look around and all of a sudden you are in a dark forest full of words and soup and you feel like yours disappear as soon as you hit.

Publish.

You remember when there was light on the path, sunlight filtering through the trees. You were encased in warmth of community, of comfort. You were there once, but you aren’t so much now and you are not even sure how it happened.

You didn’t notice at first just when the sun went behind the clouds. It all got to be confusing and noisy and you noticed less and less peace and more and more pressure.

But there is always a way to get home.

As a writer, as a person, as a believer.

To me, that is the best thing about what we believe. With God, there is always another chance to get home. Every moment, every day. We just need to be reminded how easy it is. How easy to remember that we are already wearing the ruby slippers.

My three taps……..

Getting alone with God in a quiet place.

Remembering who I am writing for, and why I am writing.

Open the pages of the Words He wrote to light the path again.

And really, the truth is, we are all daily prodigals aren’t we? Every day we confess our failings and once more He cleanses our hearts, clears the way for progress, and we get strong enough to go on.

He is just over there in fact, standing right beyond that thick stand of trees you can’t see around. It’s amazing just how close He was all along. “God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’ Acts 17:28

When I lift my gratitude and focus back to Him, I realize that, like Dorothy, I had everything I needed all along. All I had to do was remember.

And just like that……. I am on a hillside sitting in the Narnian sun with my arm around my Aslan.

Home once more.

Lori's Prayer Closet

"And when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done is secret, will reward you……"Matthew 6:6