Nuff said......

http://youtube.com/watch?v=OkynTSM1jFw

Prayers of the righteous

So - tonight was prayer time with the wonderful people who have become my brothers and sisters in Christ on the Christian Cafe (yet another shameless plug). We had 18 people tonight (I believe that's a record), and it was incredibly amazing. Tuesdays at 9 have become a much-anticipated time as several of us gather to share what's going on in our lives and in the lives of those around us. The most difficult of times are shared without fear (which is awesome in and of itself because some don't know each other at all). This atmosphere of welcomeness and acceptance reminds me of Christ's love and His sacrifice for us. "Come one, come all, and lay Your burdens at My feet." I can hear Him say these words to us on a regular basis. We have to be able to let them go and not hang on to them, and that's tough. We have to trust that He is at this very time working in each and every one, and that He has a plan and an answer for each and every one. (I'm not sharing any deep wisdom here, just rambling...) Anyway, it was another terrific night of sharing and prayer, and I'm so very grateful for the ones who gather there.

To close, I need to share (I know, again!!!) some lyrics. Because it's what I do. :) One of my new favorite groups is Building 429. They have a great new CD out called "Iris to Iris", and the song that is currently getting a lot of play by me is track #10 - "Constant":

I can't live without You
I can't live without You
I can't live

The light has gone and darkness has covered me
The moon is hidden and my eyes don’t see
I still follow, I still follow
Beautiful is love revealed to me
Through the depth of my disparity
Even when I’m shattering I know that … you’ve got me, yeah you’ve got me
When everything else is changing... you are constant
Lifting my eyes to see far beyond this misery

I am consumed with you
I can’t live without you
Breathe without you
I must confess to you
That I can’t live without you
Breathe without Your love

Perfectly ordained and formed with love
My heart has been designed for your touch
So I will follow, I will follow
Stunning is your glory revealing
The hope that lives deep inside of me
And I know that you have captured me… you got me, yeah you’ve got me
When everything else is changing.. you are constant
Lifting my eyes to see far beyond this misery

I am consumed with you
I can’t live without you
Breathe without you
I must confess to you
That I can’t live without you
Breathe without Your love

I can’t live without you…

The Old Man and His Dog

Ok - so it's been AWHILE since my last post. I was talking to a friend last night thinking, "I need to get back into that...." I received this email from a dear friend/co-worker earlier today and bawled my head off. Good grief. Sometimes things just hit you a certain way and there's just no use holding back the tears. This story goes to show/prove that friends can often come in the most unexpected forms and ways, and God has His hand in ALL of it.


Grab a hankie.................


THE OLD MAN AND HIS DOG



"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.

At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritablewhenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctors orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.


My husband, Rick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Rick. We began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Rick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent.

A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human beings on this earth.

I was tired of waiting for a God who did not answer.

Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."

I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair.

As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down.

It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

"He's a funny one ~ Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.

At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly,
carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.

Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.

Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.

I woke Rick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene; but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Rick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's
peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church.

The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers..."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article ~ Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter ~ His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father ~ and the proximity of their deaths.

And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.


~by Catherine Moore~








Life is too short for drama & petty things,
so kiss slowly, laugh insanely,
Love truly and forgive quickly


Linda Helen Theresa

Lifestyles of the rich and happy

Forwards - ya gotta love 'em!!! I received one today that was of the "please pass this on" variety - something about "if you pass this on, you'll be rich" in so many days or hours - and if you don't, you'll be sorry. While I don't take stock in any of these such things, I replied back to the sender that I was already rich in the ways that count, to which she agreed. Then I thought, "Wait a minute - I think I may have something here!!!" I have memories of childhood and asking my father, "Daddy, are we rich???" and he said, "In the ways that count - yes!!" I guess I've never forgotten that gem of information. But it's true. I'm not wealthy (money-wise) by any stretch of the imagination - I live extremely simply, am frugal to a fault (not cheap, mind you!!!), and have no debt; I'm fortunate. (Huh - the word "fortune" is in there - hmmmm....) However, the way my life has been made richer has absolutely NOTHING to do with money, fortune, or fame. I am rich because of my family, my friends (who have become my family), and most importantly, GOD. (You knew I was gonna say that, now, didn't you??!!)

I had lunch today with a DEAR friend who I don't get to see often enough. She is a former co-worker, and we were at one time office mates. She is the greatest person (she reminds me of my dear mony mony, and her name just happens to be Monica...). Although she is 10 years younger than me, she is wise beyond her years. I often go to her for a shoulder to cry on or for a free counselor (I owe her BIG time) because she gives really good advice. We had a nice lunch, as usual, with great conversation and chick-bonding time, and before we knew it, it was time to get back to work. We said our goodbyes and both made our treks back to the grind. I got back to work and found an email from her - one of those that just made me tear up (I do that a lot lately). She'd been having, as she put it, a crappy day and a crappy week, and our lunch just cheered her up. Funny, I'd been thinking exactly the same thing. A simple inexpensive lunch at the local barbecue place for 60 minutes with a good friend did that. Wow. While it doesn't take much to really make me happy (seriously), the thought entered my mind (for the umpteenth time) that God has truly blessed me.

Monica also mentioned that I was the happiest she'd seen me in awhile. She's right about that. I told her that this lovely Christian website I was now involved with was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. The people are encouraging, uplifting, and just all-around good people. One of the things I constantly struggle with is feeling sorry for myself because I'm still single. I often wondered, "What the heck is so wrong with me?" - you know, stupid stuff like that. But through this website I've encountered AWESOME and AMAZING people. And ya know what - they're single too!!!! GASP!!!! We're all in the same boat together. As I was telling my lovely friend Tania the other night, most singles don't like to hear, "Just wait - when you're not looking, someone will come along", especially from married people. I may be being bitter here, but I'm just being honest. I also felt loneliness a lot, even with people IN the room. I know you all know what I'm talking about!!! But the consolation in that is that we are NEVER alone - our Lord and Saviour is ALWAYS with us. I'm reminded of that fact a lot lately, especially when I listen to a song by Avalon called "Orphans of God". I've included the lyrics below, and I encourage you to find the song and listen to it sometime. It's just mind-blowingly profound. I'm a simple creature, what can I say? The song says there are no strangers, no outcasts, no orphans of God. Isn't that just so neat??

The world pulls this trick on us, especially through advertising (God love them) that we need this or that to be happy, that we need to be a size 0 and look like so and so, and that if we procure these things, others will pay attention to us or notice us or whatever. Well, I'd rather do it God's way. He made me who I am, and I'm not into being someone else, thank you very much. Also, it's my choice and my decision to feel sorry for myself, or to be happy because of the many blessings He's bestowed upon my life. So I leave you with this: be who He made you, be happy with it, be GRATEFUL for it EVERY day, and you'll never want for anything because He's gonna provide everything we need. That's what it means to be rich.


ORPHANS OF GOD (From Avalon's 2006 release Stand)

Who here among us has not been broken
Who here among us is without guilt or pain
So oft’ abandoned by our transgressions
If such a thing as grace exists Then grace was made for lives like this

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

Come ye unwanted and find affection
Come all ye weary, come and lay down your head
Come ye unworthy, you are my brother
If such a thing as grace exists Then grace was made for lives like this

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

O blessed Father, look down upon us
We are Your children, we need Your love
We run before Your throne of mercy
And seek Your face to rise above

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

Unexpected Friends

So, never in a million years did I think I would join a Christian singles site. It was recommended to me by my best guy friend who met some very special people, the last of whom he has now been dating. I thought, sure, why not, I'll just go on there and see what's up. After the week and a half free trial, I had already corresponded with some really nice people, so I thought I'd give the membership a shot. Little did I know how much of an impact that decision would have on my life. I decided to take the plunge one May evening and entered the world of chat. This was no ordinary chat room. There were no offensive remarks, no one slamming anyone, and there was talk of God and His love for us. Whoa - this was different!!! It wasn't as difficult as I thought to join a conversation since there was so much going on at the time. I soon "connected" with a few who I now call my "core group". One very special night a few weeks ago I met with these people to pray. It was a God thing; that's all I can say. For some reason most of us were called there to the chat room that night. And for some reason most of them decided to come in and pray together. All I can say is - WOW!!! The love felt, although not in person, is indescribable. I truly felt everyone pulling together in Jesus' name. This may sound corny, but I believe that night bonded some of us like nothing else could have. We shared with each other some personal struggles and trials and encouraged and lifted each other up in prayer. Again, I have not personally met any of these people, but their friendship has become a mainstay in my life. We have become each other's shoulders to cry on, cheerleaders in good or bad times, and, most importantly, we are all members of God's family.

To Monique (confidante and best bud in chat), MaryBeth (supporter and voice of reason), Phil (truly God's man and master blogger), Rodney (prayer warrior and good friend), Doug (advice giver), Tania (whom I've been fortunate enough to meet and who has become like a little sister to me), Leslie (your happiness abounds), CJ (joyful and playful), Lilly (quiet humor and introspection), Joyce (a steady rock), Rhoni (a great mother and friend to all), Tim (for being there to talk to), Bruce (Mr. Prayer Man) - I thank God for the opportunity to have come to know you and I pray that one day our paths will cross in "the real world". Again to quote a song (because my life is one big song!!!), there is one out now called "Happy" by Ayiesha Woods. The bridge goes "I cannot count the ways You have made my life so blessed. All I know is that You came and made beauty of my mess." Thanks to all of you for being one of the many ways my life is so blessed, and I praise God that He has brought us out of our messes and into one another's lives. You all are truly the beauty in my mess!!! Much love to you.

Be Careful What You Say

I was forwarded the following email recently:


I saw him in the church building for the first time on Wednesday. He was in his mid-70's, with thinning silver hair and a neat brown suit. Many timesin the past I had invited him to come. Several other Christian friends had talked to him about the Lord and had tried to share the good news with him. He was a well-respected, honest man with so many characteristics a Christian should have, but he had never put on Christ, nor entered the doors of the church. "Have you ever been to a church service in your life?" I had asked him a few years ago. We had just finished a pleasant day of visiting and talking. He hesitated. Then with a bitter smile he told me of his childhood experience some fifty years ago. He was one of many children in a large impoverished family. His parents had struggled to provide food, with little left for housing and clothing. When he was about ten, some neighbors invited him to worship with them. The Sunday School class had been very exciting! He had never heard such songs and stories before! He had never heard anyone read from the Bible! After class was over, the teacher took him aside and said, "Son, please don't come again dressed as you are now. We want to look our best when we come into God's house." He stood in his ragged, un-patched overalls. Then looking at his dirty bare feet, he answered softly, "No, ma'am, I won't ever.""And I never did," he said, abruptly ending our conversation. There must have been other factors to have hardened him so, but this experience formed a significant part of the bitterness in his heart. I'm sure that Sunday School teacher meant well. But did she really understand the love of Christ? Had she studied and accepted the teachings found in the second chapter of James? What if she had put her arms around the dirty, ragged little boy and said, "Son, I am so glad you are here, and I hope you will come every chance you get to hear more about Jesus." I reflected on the awesome responsibility a teacher or pastor or a parent has to welcome little ones in His name. How far reaching her influence was! I prayed that I might be ever open to the tenderness of a child's heart, and that I might never fail to see beyond the appearance and behavior of a child to the eternal possibilities within. Yes, I saw him in the church house for the first time on Wednesday. As I looked at that immaculately dressed old gentleman lying in his casket, I thought of the little boy of long ago. I could almost hear him say,"No, ma'am, I won't ever." And I wept.


This heart-wrenching story really made me stop and think. Needless to say, I have no doubt if Jesus physically walked into most of our churches, it would be terribly sad to see how quickly he would be shooed away, "tsk"ed at, stared at, or talked about upon sight of his long hair and dirty bare feet. Casting Crowns sums this up perfectly in their song "We Are the Body": Jesus paid much too high a price for us to pick and choose who should come.

Ouch.


I am extremely fortunate to be a member of a church where appearance is thankfully not a factor. It is not uncommon to see any of the congregation in shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops, etc. In contrast to this (as I'm sure you all could agree) is that growing up we learned to wear our "Sunday best" to church. I've since learned that my "Sunday best" is on the INSIDE, and that it's not to be used for Sunday ONLY. If I have nothing of import on the inside, if I don't exude God's love and light, does it really matter what my outward appearance is?? We never know what trials and heartaches someone may be facing or encountering, and it is up to us to share God's love with them. We never know if they may come back through those church doors or feel free and welcome to accept God's most precious gift of salvation. And we never know who is watching and listening to what we do and say. I for one am thankful that Jesus accepts us as we are; broken, dirty, and messy. He's the only one that can truly clean us up.

Diving into the blogging world

Well, I'm an official blogger. After reading several friends' postings, ponderings, thoughts, and lessons learned, I thought I'd jump on the blogger bandwagon. At first you wonder, hmmmm, what to write about??? On the drive home from work today, all these thoughts popped into my head; some profound, some silly, some thought-provoking, some not, so here goes.....

I was listening to my favorite Christian radio station this morning and the deejay was talking about one of his friends being obsessed with her cellphone. Whether keeping the address book up to date, always making sure the latest upgrades were obtained, and making sure it's always on so as not to miss a call, she was deeply distressed when she left her phone on top of her car and drove off, only for it to fall off and get run over by an oncoming car. This prompted my favorite radio personality to ponder the profundity of the situation at hand. Here is this object that is most definitely easy to replace, but all this importance is put on it. What if we treated our Bibles in the same way? We can make sure its words are always on our hearts so we can share what it has to say with others, it always speaks the truth, it's always up to date no matter the situation, and it's always there for us. It certainly provides comfort, unlike the cellphone that can often cause stress or anxiety depending who's on the other end. And unlike people who may not always return our calls, Jesus is always there with His arms wide open, ready to receive our calls. Plus, most importantly, the service is FREE!!!!!! There is no plan better or more comparable. We will never be disconnected or cut off, and our call always goes through. As a good friend of mine at church muses, "Go to the throne instead of the phone!!"