Life in the Bubble

In March we moved to a lovely community in Peachtree City, Georgia.The town encircles a nature preserve which offers frequent views of deer, squirrels, box turtles,and an occasional raccoon. Almost a hundred miles of cart paths wind through the forest, around lakes and golf courses. A relaxing evening for us consists of a cart ride to dinner and a stop along the lake to watch the sun go down.Peace envelopes us.

The teenagers nicknamed Peachtree City as "The Bubble." Their logic being, "There's nothing to do here." That makes me smile. Yes, there is a strong police presence. You will get a speeding ticket for going more than 40 mph.I am very grateful for that.Independent businesses thrive because box stores are limited.No movie theater exists within the city limits, but there is community involvement like I have not seen in decades.

On Halloween night our neighbors set up chairs and tables at the end of their driveways to dole out generous amounts of confectionery delights.Families decorated their carts and delivered scores of children to enjoy "drive-thru" trick-or-treating.Attracted by the brilliant orange lights outlining our cart, neighbors dropped by to introduce themselves. I might never have met them. Downside--I can no longer leave the house without make-up because I now know my neighbors.

Life in the Peachtree City Bubble does not protect me from political and social drama.The most distressing conflicts are those within the Christian world. The Enemy loves to watch us tear each other apart.If we do not extend mercy and grace to each other what can unbelievers expect from us? Not much.

My life in the Bubble must include God. Faith makes things possible, not easy. My trust is in Him. What does me expect from me?

He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
Except to be just, and to love[and to diligently practice]
kindness (compassion),
And to walk humbly with your God [setting aside any overblown
sense of importance or self-righteousness]? Micah 6:8 (AMP)

That's pretty simple. Would you join me in praying for an extra measure of grace to let go of "any overblown sense of importance." If we let go of that, I believe it will release us from the anxiety and fear of judgment by others as we no longer judge them.

SUICIDE PREVENTION MONTH--MY STORY

I hadn't talked to my older sister in six months to a year, but she called to wish me a happy birthday. She sounded anxious and flustered. I could hear the wind in the phone and the crunch of gravel as she paced.

“Randa, are you okay?” I asked after a minute of pleasantries. 

"No, not really. After I lost my job at Wal-Mart, I got a job helping emotionally challenged kids. I thought I could make a difference. I understand what they go through. The director said I wasn’t the fit they were looking for and let me go. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.

I’ve been clean and sober for two years, but it is so hard to stay that way. I don’t have any support at home. My husband says it’s his house and if he wants a drink, he’s going to have it,” her voice broke.

Alarmed, I asked, “Randa, are you on your medication for bi-polar disorder?”

“No, I can’t afford it without a job or insurance.”

“Honey, you’ve got to get some help. I can’t do anything from Texas. Is there anyone in Kansas I can call for you?”

“I’ll be fine. Talking to you helps,” she continued to pace.

“Lace, do you think God will forgive me for all the things I’ve done?” she asked.

“Don’t you know He only forgives the perfect people?” I responded. She guffawed. I teased her because we’d had this conversation before. I knew she knew the answer, but it worked to break the tension.

“Randa, no one is perfect. If I gave you a beautifully wrapped gift would you open it or would you put it on a shelf and wonder if it was for you?”

“I’d open it, of course,” she said.

“God’s forgiveness is the same. It was yours the first time you asked for it, but you’ve placed it on a shelf. Open the gift, Randa!"

I assured her of God’s unconditional love and begged her to get some help. She assured me she would be fine. I should have called her husband or sons and thrown a fit, but I didn’t want to interfere.

Last family photo, November 2003. Randa is in the middle of the front row.

    Five weeks later on October 2, 2004, my mother called with the news. In good spirits that morning, Randa had fixed a big breakfast for her husband. They sat and chatted before she saw him off to work with a goodbye kiss. He was clueless to her plan. 
     Her 32-year-old son was living in the basement of their home at the time. He had spent the night out and ran home before work to pick-up a few things. Entering the house, he called out for his mom, but got no answer. He ran downstairs to grab a clean shirt and saw Randa’s little Boston Terrier lying at the end of the bed. As he started back up the stairs, he called to her. She didn’t respond. Her eyes focused on the other side of the bed. He walked back downstairs and around the bed to see his mother’s lifeless body on the floor. She had used his gun to end her life. She was only 52 years-old.

     Today, I’d like to shine some light on the subject of suicide and depression. Every year at this time a spirit of depression descends on our entire family. It affects not just my parents and Randa’s three sons, but my siblings and my children.

     I have a wonderful life and do not consider myself depressed. I was surprised to recognize some of the symptoms listed below in myself. My doctor however explained it as a chemical imbalance and prescribed a low dosage of an antidepressant. I am amazed how the cloud in my brain has lifted. I no longer wake-up to a barrage of negative, self-defeating thoughts and my energy has returned. My only side-affect seems to be a dry mouth. It is totally worth it for the clarity which has been restored to me. I thank God for giving man the intelligence to create such a little pill.
     The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention lists the following warning signs of suicide:

Observable signs of serious depression:

• Unrelenting low mood
• Pessimism
• Hopelessness
• Desperation
• Anxiety, psychic pain and inner tension
• Withdrawal
• Sleep problems
• Increased alcohol and/or other drug use
• Recent impulsiveness and taking unnecessary risks
• Threatening suicide or expressing a strong wish to die

Making a plan:

• Giving away prized possessions
• Sudden or impulsive purchase of a firearm
• Obtaining other means of killing oneself such as poisons or medications

• Unexpected rage or anger

      The emotional crises that usually precede suicide are often recognizable and treatable. Although most depressed people are not suicidal, most suicidal people are depressed. Serious depression can be manifested in obvious sadness, but often it is rather expressed as a loss of pleasure or withdrawal from activities that had been enjoyable. One can help prevent suicide through early recognition and treatment of depression and other psychiatric illnesses.

      Ken Duckworth, medical director of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, stated in an article in USA Today, “Ninety percent of people who die by suicide have a mental illness, and many are afraid to seek help. Sometimes people fear they will lose their jobs or be viewed differently if they acknowledge these problems."

     If you or someone you love exhibits any of these symptoms, I implore you to get help. There is no shame in seeking treatment. Depression is an illness which can be treated. If your loved one had pneumonia you would cart them off to the hospital whether they liked it or not. Mental illness should be viewed in the same way. You may save their life or your own.
     The National Suicide Prevention Hotline number is 1-800-273-8255.

     Gratefully, that is not the end of the story. Two years to the day of sister's death, my granddaughter, T-Bug, was born. She is the epitome of joy! He gave us the opportunity to celebrate life, rather than mourn a senseless death.

Because of my sister's death, my youngest daughter and her husband chose Budapest, Hungary to serve as missionaries.Budapest has the highest rate of suicide in the world. 

Megan just before she returned to Budapest.

Please talk to your children and be aware of others' hopelessness. Light up the world with His love.

Season with Salt!

I love to entertain and like to think of myself as gracious and pleasant. I love salt!  So this verse impacted me with its wording.

• ⁵ Conduct yourself with wisdom in your interactions with outsiders (non-believers), make the most of each opportunity [treating it as something precious]. ⁶ Let your speech at all times be gracious and pleasant, seasoned with salt, so that you will know how to answer each one [who questions you]. Colossians 4:5-6 AMP. (emphasis added)

I confess my speech is sometimes seasoned with more than salt. I might even use spicy Cajun seasoning with a side of chili peppers.

 For instance, when I came out of Tuesday Morning to find the Fed-Ex  truck parked behind my car, two other cars, and an empty space, my eyebrows rose. I calmly looked around for the driver. No one in sight. I got in my car, cranked up the air and ate a protein bar. Being hangry doesn't help the situation.

Time passed. Still no driver. The driver hadn't returned to take in another load of product, so I assume there was some flirting going on with a cute store clerk. I have no idea what really delayed him, but once upon a long, long time ago I was a cute receptionist who flirted with the Fed Ex guy and kept him from his rounds.

My blood pressure rose. Irritated I got out of the car and took pictures of the empty truck and it's tag number.

 

 I looked  in the windows of the shops lining the parking lot. The door of the Herb Shop opened and the Fed-Ex driver wheeled his dolly past me.

"Really?" I asked indignantly, motioning to the blocked cars. 

"I'm sorry. There were no empty spaces when I parked," he responded 

"What?" I said pointing to the empty space blocked in by his truck. 

"That wasn't there when I parked," he denied.

"Then how were they able to drive away? I asked barely able to contain the chili and spice rising up in my throat.

"Which car are you in?" he asked.

"The red Camry," I pointed.

"Well you get in your car and I'll be gone by the time you buckle your seatbelt," he said pushing past me.

I stood there stunned by his arrogance. Lying to my face! My head throbbed with anger. I wanted to deck him. What was that verse again?

⁵ Conduct yourself with wisdom in your interactions with outsiders (non-believers), make the most of each opportunity [treating it as something precious]. ⁶ Let your speech at all times be gracious and pleasant, seasoned with salt, so that you will know how to answer each one [who questions you]. Colossians 4:5-6 AMP. (emphasis added)

I have no idea if he was a believer or not. It really doesn't matter,  What I wanted to do had nothing to do with wisdom. So I got in my car, called my husband and vented to him.

I'm pretty sure the driver did not find our  conversation  to be gracious and pleasant, but by walking away I didn't make it any worse. I don't think Jesus would have been glorified by my having a stroke in front of the Herb Store.

Hidden Treasures!

Our trip to Slovenia last August

"Mom, I just want to spend the day with you. Mani/pedi's, shopping or just chilling, I don't care what we do as long as we are together," said Megan.

"Let's go!" I responded.  We quickly made arrangements for her two boys and took off.

"May I read from my devotional while you are driving," I asked?

"Of course" she said.

"Approach each new day with desire to find Me. Before you get out of bed, I have already been working to prepare the path that will get you through this day. There are hidden treasures strategically placed along the way. Some of the treasures are trials, designed to shake you free from earth-shackles. Others are blessings that reveal My Presence: sunshine, flowers, birds, friendships, answered prayer. I have not abandoned this sin-wrecked world; I am still richly present in it.

Search for deep treasures as you go through this day. You will find Me all along the way." Jesus Calling", by Sarah Young

"I've found my treasure today. It's spending time with you," I said.

"Absolutely, but Mom, we can't overlook that some of the treasures are trials," she said as she parked the car.

"I know, but I don't generally have to look for those treasures, they slap me in the face. I've learned to go straight to Him to deal with trials, although I forget to consider trials treasures. It's small blessings and favor I neglect to recognize amid drama and pain."

We paused our discussion as a hostess seated us. After perusing the menus we decided to share a couple of items.

"Hi! My name is Kelsey. What can I get for you today," the server said.

"I'd like to try the Turkey Reuben, please. Is the Jalapeño remoulade really spicy?" I asked

"I can put it on the side for you if you like," Kelsey replied.

"That would be great." I said. 

"She likes spicy, but she knows I don't. I plan to snark part of her sandwich," Megan said with a grin.

"Ha, my parents wouldn't care," Kelsey snorted. "They would tell me to get my own sandwich."

"Yes, but she hasn't seen me in almost a year." Megan said.

"Oh, no!" Kelsey explained. "I couldn't live without my mom."

"Well she lives in Budapest, Hungary as a missionary," I said pointing to Megan. "And I just moved from Dallas to Georgia, so we met here in Austin where her in-laws live. They are keeping her two little boys while we steal a few hours to catch up."

"Oh my gosh," Kelsey said,  "That is amazing. Let me get your order in and you guys enjoy your visit."

Megan and I talked as fast as we could cramming in a year's worth of conversation and stories, pausing only long enough to eat our food. Once we finished I asked Kelsey for a to-go box and the check explaining that we had an appointment for mani/pedi's.

"I'll get the box for you, but we have something called "Customer Appreciation". I told my manager your story and your meals are on us."

"What? Thank you so much!" I said. "In my devotional today it said to look for hidden treasures during the day. This certainly qualifies!"

"And I was part of the plan?!!!" she smiled. "Thank you so much for sharing that with me."

"Thank you for being a treasure!" I said as we left the restaurant.

I love the idea of being a treasure in someone's life. Don't you? I'm going to make a point of trying to be a treasure to someone everyday. I may not be passing out free meals. It may be only a smile in an otherwise difficult day, but I'm going to try.

Dream Laundry Room!

Pinterest supplied me with my dream laundry room. A sink, plenty of space, cabinets for storage and counter tops for sewing and crafts. When we moved this is what I had in mind for my laundry room.

This is what I got. Three cabinets above the washer and dryer enclosed behind folding doors. No sink, no counter top, no place for sewing or crafts. A laundry closet!

I was not a happy camper. As I was studying Jonah I realized I needed to change my perspective. I decided to focus on what I have instead of what I don't have. I have hot water, detergent, the ability to pay my electric bill, and so many clothes. I chose to see it as an invitation to create a more efficient space.

Once I changed my perspective, my attitude improved. I determined the cabinets were sufficient to hold the necessary laundry supplies. The tops of the washer and dryer could serve as my counter to fold clothes. The only thing I really needed was a rod to hang the clothes on to dry. There wasn't enough room for a rod between the cabinets and the door. The hall was too small to accommodate a standing clothes dryer. For the first few weeks I made do by putting hangers on the door knobs. It forced me to put the clothes in the closet as soon as they were dry instead of using the laundry room as a second closet. 

And then it occurred to me as I was looking at the clearance shelves in Kirkland's....

This $12 thingie hung on the opposite wall was perfect for my needs! When not in use as a laundry tool, it was decorative and unobtrusive! i was so excited. An efficient, attractive solution. I have everything I need and the clothes are always put away! 

I changed my perspective and I am more than satisfied with what I have!

Dealing with Disappointment and Depression

His eyes look right into my soul.
Naylor Made Photography

I suffered a disappointment today. Not a big thing, just an unfulfilled expectation. No lives were permanently changed, I was just disappointed.

I know all the right phrases to say in these situations: "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose;" "His timing is perfect;" "Give thanks in all things;" I believe all those things are true. I strive to be obedient to the faith and knowledge that I have, but sometimes my heart hurts.
When diagnosing the cause of my heartache or depression, I ask myself three questions: Are you eating nutritiously; have you had enough rest; and, have you exercised? Why question my physical wellbeing when my emotions are out of balance? Because we live within natural laws of this world. My physical state impacts my spiritual and emotional state. If the answer to any of those questions is, "No," I do what I have to rectify the situation.

If the answer is, "Yes," I try to look outward instead of inward. I've indulged in more than a few pity parties. In fact I throw a good one, but I have never found self-absorption to be the solution. The answer for me is to do something for someone else. It doesn't have to be a big thing, just something. 
Tomorrow I will steam-clean my mother's carpets. I will visit my dad at the rehab center where he is recovering from hip replacement surgery. I will thank God all the way home for my working arms and legs. Then I'll probably pay someone to clean my carpets!

A dear friend shared this prayer with me. It is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. I carry a copy in my purse. It seems to fit every occasion.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is error, the truth;

Where there is doubt, the faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled, as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Blind Date--A Gift of Grace

In the days before Match.com and eHarmony, blind dates were arranged by friends or family. Mine was envisioned by a recently hired co-worker, Teri. Over lunch our conversation turned to the sad state of the dating pool. I bemoaned the fact that none my last five dates warranted a relationship.  

“I need to date around,” I sighed.

“I could set you up with a couple of guys I worked with before I got laid off. One is real macho and the other is sweet and sensitive,” she proffered.

“I’ve had macho. I’ll take sweet and sensitive.”

“I’ll give him a call. Maybe we can all go to lunch.”

When Sweet and Sensitive called, we chatted with ease. In fact we were so comfortable we decided not to include Teri on our Friday night date.

Friday, October 29, 1982, was a fun day at work. We all dressed in costume. Everyone brought food. We turned the music up and played all afternoon. If Facebook had been around at the time I’m certain some embarrassing photos would have been posted.

 When the clock struck five, I had one hour to turn from a wicked witch into an appealing first date. I raced to retrieve my 2 year-old daughter from the babysitter. Once home, I threw her a cup of apple juice and turned on cartoons. Zipping down the hall I discarded clothes and a long dark wig. I ripped off the false eyelashes and hooked nose as I jumped into a still cold shower. Shampoo flying, I washed my hair, scrubbed green paint off my face, and the remaining spirit gum from my nose. The hairdryer wasn’t the only thing turned on turbo as I dried my hair and quickly reapplied makeup. At exactly 6:00 pm Baby and I were dressed and peeking out the window when Sweet and Sensitive pulled into the driveway.

“He’s cute,” Baby said.

“Yes, he is.” I replied while hauling out my mental checklist: attractive – check; prompt--check; suit (employed) – check; late model car (not a beat-up truck w/empty cans in the flatbed)—check. So far, so good, I thought as I opened the door.

“Come in. I’m Lacene. This is my daughter.”

 He smiled and shook her hand.

 “Thank you for letting me pick you up right after work,” he said. “I work here in Norman, but live in Oklahoma City. I thought it would be more efficient to pick you up before I go home. I'll take a quick shower and we can go on to dinner. I made reservations at a restaurant close to my apartment. I’ll bring you home before you turn into a pumpkin." He finally took a breath.

I had some concerns about a stop at his apartment, but I liked the idea of a restaurant which required reservations. I had a date with one man who thought Furr’s Cafeteria was the perfect place to celebrate a new job. It was also the last date with him.

“That would be fine,” I said. “Would you like to sit and have a drink first?”

“If you don’t mind, why don’t we go on to Oklahoma City. We’ll have a 45-minute drive to visit.”

“Okay, let me grab my purse.”

He opened the car door for me and placed Baby in the back seat. He made sure the tail of my dress wasn’t hanging out before he shut the door. Good manners—check.

Baby screamed, “Oh, Mommy! My fingers!”

I jumped out of the car and grabbed her from the back seat. He was already at my side.

“What happened?” he asked.

He was so distraught I hated to tell him. “You slammed her fingers in the door.”

“Let’s get some ice on them.”

He took the screaming child from me while I dug for my house keys. I opened the door. He raced to the freezer, grabbed an ice cube and placed it on her fingers. She sat in the crook of his arm contemplating him with teary eyes. She had stopped screaming the moment he took her from me.

He knows how to handle children – check.

After a few minutes of ice and soothing words, Baby let us look at her fingers. They were red, but not bruised or broken. Luckily they were caught in the rubber weather-stripping and not the door itself. We breathed a sigh a relief that this date would not take place in the ER. We took her on to the babysitter’s where he insisted on paying.

Whoa, that wasn’t even on my checklist, I thought. I never had a date offer to pay the babysitter, much less insist on it. I may just marry this guy.

As we drove to his apartment I learned he was recently divorced after seven years of marriage. He had a five-year-old son. His visitation on alternate weekends never seemed enough, so he kept his son as much as possible during the week. His business administration degree came from OU. He went on to get his CPA while working for Arthur Young. The hours were long and hard on his marriage. When he and his wife separated he took a job in the private sector. He was now a financial manager at an oil well instrumentation company in Norman. He had been Teri’s boss before she got laid off.

Ahhh, that explains his efficiency and promptness.  I like it.

I gestured with my hands as we talked, and saw a flash of black. I looked down at my hands. To my horror I realized my nails were still painted black. (In 1982 Goth was not a trend, nor was blue, green or black nail polish. It was just weird!)

“Oh my gosh! I am so embarrassed,” I said. “In my rush to get ready, I forgot to take off the black nail polish from my witch costume.”

“It’s okay,” he winked. “I thought you were just kinky.”

I blushed and contemplated crawling under the seat. What kind of checklist is he keeping?

“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. It doesn’t matter," he said and meant it.Our conversation continued until we reached his apartment.

“Come on in,” he said opening my car door. I followed him to his first floor apartment. He unlocked the door and held it for me. I entered tentatively not knowing what to expect. I dated men in the past who decorated their living rooms with weight benches and barbells and smelled of old gym socks.He stripped off his coat and tie. “I promise I won’t be more than 20 minutes. Make yourself comfortable. Here’s the TV remote.”

I took the remote and set down on the couch. From that vantage point, I could see 400 square feet of tastefully decorated space. Ornamental pillows perched atop a crisply-made bed. A scented candle adorned a tidy kitchen counter. A bar set with two place-mats created the dining space. The tiny living room walls were hung with tasteful artwork. I was impressed. Did he do this? Or was the ex-wife still in the picture?

True to his word, he walked out of the bathroom 20 minutes later. Dressed in a starched white shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and a Houndstooth blazer slung over his shoulder, he was a vision of masculinity. I followed his well-fitting jeans out the front door and tried not to stumble as I enjoyed the view. No well-worn circle from his chewing tobacco--check.

“Do you like Japanese food?” he asked.

“I love all kinds of Asian food. I was raised in the Philippines and Guam.”

“Good, I’ve made reservations at a Japanese restaurant that cooks your food on a Hibachi grill in front of you.”

“Perfect, that will be fun,” I smiled glad that it wasn’t a stuffy formal restaurant.

“We are a little early. Do you want to have a drink in the bar while we wait for our table?”

“I’d love to.” I said eager for a something to calm my nerves.

Over drinks I learned his mother and aunt had decorated his apartment, but the tidiness was all him. I told him: about my nomadic childhood as a preacher’s kid, and a missionary kid; how I married two weeks after my eighteenth birthday to our much older music and youth director; about the dissolution of our nine-year marriage, and the joy I found in my daughter. I shared how I had been laid-off from my well-paying job as a landman with the oil bust of ‘82. Being an unemployed single parent with no health insurance was a scary proposition. I took the first job I could find even though it meant a pay cut. I met Teri when she came to work after being laid off. 

We were deep in conversation when the hostess interrupted to tell us our table was ready. She led us to a long table in front of the grill. He pulled my chair and seated me. After perusing the menus, we placed our order. A few minutes later, I leaned over and whispered, "I think all that liquid has gone straight through me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room.” I stood up and pushed my chair with the back of my legs. The chair stuck. I gave it another little nudge. It fell onto the folding screen behind us. The screen crashed to the floor startling everyone in the restaurant. All eyes were on me as I reached down to pick up my chair.

Sweet and Sensitive leaned over and whispered in my ear,

“If you’re not embarrassed, you ought to be.”

“I am. You horse’s behind!” I said angrily.

As I straightened, I caught his teasing eyes. The embarrassment faded and I laughed with him. After all he did slam Baby's fingers in the door. In a way it felt like we were even. This guy definitely had potential.

Did you see the fingers of God’s grace in my life? I found it much more traumatic to be involuntarily unemployed than to go through a divorce. But if I had not been force to take the administrative assistant job, I wouldn’t have met Teri. If I hadn't met Teri, she wouldn’t have introduced me to what I have called for the last thirty-one years God’s gift of grace to me, my Soul Mate.

Lord Have Mercy

“I’m going to be late,” I said my voice quivering.

“Is traffic bad?” Sweetheart asked.

“No, I got a speeding ticket,” my voice broke.

"What? Are you okay? Are you still driving?” he asked.

“No, I’m parked. I’m shaking so hard I pulled over to call you.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did,” he said.” Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’m fine. I can’t believe I got a ticket. I don’t remember the last time I got a speeding ticket. It’s been at least 15 years,” I replied with a hint of righteous indignation.

“What happened?”

 "North of Denton on I-35 the speed limit was 75 mph. It slowed to a crawl south of Denton although I never saw an accident or a broken down vehicle. When traffic finally began to pick up near Lewisville the speed limit was 60 mph. The drivers must have gotten impatient cause I had cars passing me like I was sitting still. A Silverado pickup zipped by me; I got cut-off by an SUV; and then a Ford F-150 blew my doors off." I paused to recall all the details.

"I was at the back of the pack when a police cruiser pulled into traffic behind me. I took my foot off the gas, looked down at my speedometer and relaxed. I was going a little over the speed limit, but not much. I watched him in my rear-view mirror. He turned his lights on. I moved to the right lane so he could catch the speeder, but he was after me! I can’t believe he chose to stop the Toyota hybrid. Reeaallly?”  I said dragging the word out sarcastically. “Hybrids don’t exactly have a reputation for racing speeds.”

“Did you try to talk him out of it?”

“I didn’t flash him, if that’s what you mean. Who wants to see my old lady cleavage?” I huffed.

“That’s not what I meant, Lace,” he chuckled.  “But it would have worked for me.”

“Well, I appreciate that you find me attractive, but it wouldn't have been respectful to you or to God for me to behave like a trollop,” I said mollified by the compliment.

“So what did you do?” he asked.

“I choked back the tears, but my hands were shaking when I gave him my registration, I didn’t want to appear manipulative. I explained how long it’s been since I’ve had a ticket. I told the officer I was on my way home from the funeral of a 21-year-old girl who died in a tragic car accident, so I know I was driving carefully. I told him I thought he stopped the wrong car. I told him about the trucks passing me and the SUV cutting me off. I didn’t make the hybrid remark, but I asked him if he could please give me a warning. He told me he was sorry, but he had to give me a ticket. He said I could explain to the Judge. I put my head on the steering wheel for a couple of seconds and then took the ticket. He even thanked me for being so respectful,” my voice rose in frustration as the tears began to flow.

“Honey, calm down. That is all you could do. We’ll figure it out. Come on home, but drive carefully.”

I set my cruise control on 60 mph and stayed in the right-hand lane for the next hour. Sweetheart met me in the garage. He opened the car door and drew me into his arms. Within the safety of his warm embrace, I began to sob.

“Babe, it’s okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “Come on in. Sit down. I’ll get your bags later.”

He sat beside me on the couch and placed his arm around me. Handing me a tissue, he said, “Okay, let’s look at the ticket.”  I handed him the ticket.

“Huh, this is not from the Texas State Highway Department,” his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s from Hickory Creek Municipal Court. I’m surprised they were patrolling I-35.”

“What is the fine?” I asked, certain the fee would be less in a municipal court.

“’For speeds 10 to 20 miles over the speed limit-$200.00.’ What? $200!” he exclaimed.

“I will admit to being 5 miles over the speed limit but not 15. What is the fine for that?” I asked hopefully.

“’For speeds from 1 to 9 miles over the speed limit it is $190’,” he read.

“Are you kidding me? Just $10 more? That’s ridiculous. This fine is not about justice. It’s about revenue for Christmas bonuses! We can’t afford $200 at Christmas time. I have to fight it.

I’m going to the Courthouse with a turkey and offer it for their Christmas party. Obviously that’s what this is about. Then I’m going to throw myself on the mercy of the court reasoning that thirty years of working for attorneys is punishment enough. A judge will understand that!” Outrage replaced tears.

“No, you are not, Lace,” he admonished. “It’s okay to vent to me, but a judge will cite you for contempt and throw you in jail. You are going to stay home and pay the fine. “He hugged me tighter.

I sat up and pulled away undeterred. "What is the date of the hearing?"

“January 22, 2013. You leave for Hungary on January13^th and won’t be back until February 9^th. You can’t be in court." 

I sank back into the couch. “But it is so unfair. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t going fifteen miles over the speed limit.”

"You admit you were 5 miles over the speed limit. It would cost more than $10 for gas to argue your case.”

“I know, but it makes me so mad. I have such good arguments too!” I said petulantly.

“I don’t want you getting yourself in more trouble, Ms. Sassypants,” he said taking the ticket. “We’ll have to wait a few days for it to be posted, but I’ll go online and pay the fine.”

I didn’t want to submit to his authority, but I did. Not just because I am commanded to do so, but because he protects and cherishes me as he was commanded*. We placed the ticket in a drawer to be dealt with after the first of the year.

Once the Christmas tree came down and decorations were stored, I began to prepare for my trip to Hungary. In addition to packing for the month away, I needed to take care of the ticket.

“Sweetheart, did you pay the ticket?”

“I’ve gone online three times to pay it, but your ticket doesn’t show up. I’m sorry, you are going to have to call the Court Clerk during the week and see if you can pay it over the phone."

I called called the Court Clerk the next day and explained my situation. I gave her my name, address, and read off the citation number. I heard the keys clicking as she entered the information. I explained the circumstances around my ticket.

"Yes, ma’am, I intend to pay the fine, but my citation does not come up when I enter the number,” I said.

“Let me try it,” she replied.

“Huh,” she said. “It doesn’t come up for me either. I can pull up the citation before yours and the citation after, but I can’t get yours to come up.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to worry about it?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“That kind of scares me because I am leaving the country for a month.  I don’t want to get home and find a warrant has been issued for failure to appear.”

“Let me go talk to the officer who wrote the citation and see what I can find out. Can you hold for a minute?”

“I’d be happy to.” My pulse quickened with anticipation. The longer I was on hold the more excited I grew. Could it be that he changed his mind? But he said it was already entered into the system so he couldn’t just give me a warning.

Was I going to be granted mercy after all? I didn’t deserve it. I did break the law. But isn't that the very definition of mercy:  compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender; lenient or compassionate treatment.

“Ma’am?” she said, coming back on the line. “I talked to the officer. He said he voided the citation. You don’t need to pay it.”

“Really? Did he say why?" 

“He just said he voided it for technical reasons before it went to the judge.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

Wow! Did the officer change his mind because I was respectful? Because I didn’t try to manipulate him with flashes of flesh or tears?  Did God reward my obedience in submitting to my husband in spite of my rebellious nature? Whatever the reason, I thanked God for this gift of mercy.

In my spirit, He gently reminded me of His merciful gift of salvation. He prompted me to celebrate His mercy by being merciful to those who irritate, use, hurt, or offend me. There is plenty of mercy to go around; use some--for yourself** and for others***. You will need it someday. I know have and always will.

*Wives submit to your own husbands as to the Lord, for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church...husbands are to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. Ephesians 5:22-28 HCSB

**The merciful are blessed, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7

 ***For judgment is without mercy to the one who hasn’t shown mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13

Life of the Party or Christ-like?

Happy New Year! Have you made your New Year Resolutions? Mine always seem to be connected with my mouth. I have difficulty not just with what goes into my mouth, but what comes out of it. I came across this journal entry from April 2009, which describes my struggle:

"I love to be the life of the party. I want to be the person everyone wants to sit next. I try never to be boring. I may be naughty, but never boring. Being Christ-like is most difficult for me in the midst of Sweetheart’s business associates. As a corporate wife I feel a social responsibility to be entertaining hopefully, in a charming and funny way. Unfortunately, I’ve been known to succumb to caustic quips on face and fashion, or the cheap tricks of sexual innuendo and flirtation to obtain this goal.  While it may be entertaining, it is not Christ-like.

God promises to do a work in my heart, but I know I make His job easier by avoiding alcohol.   I love a glass of wine. It relaxes me. My body flows to the rhythm of the music, my stories are livelier, and the world looks a little rosier. Regrettably, consumption of two or more glasses of wine turns my dancing into booty-shaking, my foot invariably finds my mouth in conversation, and by the end of the evening I am morose. Sleep eludes me as I replay each poor choice with regret and condemnation. I commit to change these behaviors and ask God to put a watch on my tongue that I might not sin against Him.

My first test came quickly. Sweetheart and I flew to Eden Roc Resort & Spa in Miami Beach for a convention where the best in the company were rewarded with four days of free food, booze, and swag.

From the moment we checked into our well-appointed hotel, free alcohol was available. Mojitos were offered at registration. A lunch buffet arranged around a pool included three open bars and stations to make your choice of fresh fruit smoothies (with or without vodka) or frozen coffee drinks (with or without a liquor).  I dodged the first bullet by asking for water.

After a nap and in-room movie, it was time for four hours of uninterrupted temptation. The opening reception consisted of buffets and bars set up around four pools. Again I dodged a bullet by drinking water with my meal. I savored a delicious frozen strawberry daiquiri Popsicle for dessert, but it didn’t cause me to join in the synchronized swimming. Likewise, the salsa dancing instructors carried on without my assistance. Instead, by the end of the evening I was deep in conversation about God’s unconditional love with a woman I had never met before. Within fifteen minutes of our introduction, she was confiding things in me she had only told her husband.  It was exhilarating to be able to reassure her of God’s love and mercy. I had no trouble going to sleep that night. I owed no one an apology.

• All things are legitimate [permissible—and we are free to do anything we please], but not all things are helpful (expedient, profitable, and wholesome). All things are legitimate, but not all things are constructive [to character] and edifying [to spiritual life]. Let no one then seek his own good and advantage and profit, but [rather] each one of the other [let him seek the welfare of his neighbor]. I Corinthians 10:23-24.
 
• Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious-the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies. Philippians 4:8-9.

“Father, put your arm around my shoulder and your hand over my mouth.”

Terrors of the Night

My night was plagued with dreams. Not just bad dreams, but heart-pounding, terrifying, please-let-me-wake-up nightmares. An overwhelming sense of evil and torment enveloped me. As I lay in bed breathless and shaking, I began to pray Psalms 91:

"He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.'
Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler And from the perilous pestilence.
He shall cover you with his feathers, And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.
You shall not be afraid of the terror of the night, Nor of the arrow that flies by day....". (Emphasis added.)

As my breathing slowed I asked for His protection from terrors of the night. Peace didn't come right away, but I took "every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ" (2 Cor. 10:5) and asked that terror be replaced by

"good things...For I am persuaded that neither death nor life,  nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us (me) from the love of God..." (Romans 8:32, 38-39).

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights..." (James 1:17)  

 Sweet healing sleep replaced the terrors of the night. As the sun began to rise my own laughter awakened me. The answer to my prayer came in a vivid dream of antique shopping with John Wayne. What more peaceful and secure endeavor could there be then one with The Duke?The very idea still brings a giggle to my throat.
     As the Halloween season approaches our children will be bombarded with scary costumes, ghost stories, and generally creepy things. Shield them from what you can. You won't be able to shield them from everything, so give them a verse to which they can cling. One of my favorites is:

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

Pray for the protection of their hearts and minds before you go trick-or-treating and then have Fun!
My friend, Mary Helen Wheeler, always said, "Why just sit there when you can worry?" Of course, she was counseling against such thinking. Mary DeMuth's blog post today 7 Ways to Get Beyond Worry gives practical ways to deal with fear and worry. I found it helpful, hope you do too!