Somebody Wanna Help Me Out Here?

In all seriousness, I have a question:  "Am I as bad as people say I am?"

I don't like hanging out with the girls. I don't like sitting around kibitzing about what someone else wore to last week's PTA meeting (Homeschoolers don't have a PTA, and if they did, I wouldn't go!) or discussing where to get the best eyebrow wax (I don't have eyebrows either; I'm 45, they were one of the first things to go. Deal with it!)

Apparently, this makes me anti-social.

I HATE -- oh, was I too vague? Let me clarify, H-A-A-A-T-E talking on the phone. My ear sweats, I get a crick in my neck, and I usually get whatever disgusting goo I'm mixing in the kitchen all over the phone. I also keep a very odd schedule. So when you call me on Tuesday, don't expect a call back until Friday -- maybe. Unless you need an immediate answer, in which case I will try to put aside my aversion to earsweat and call you back soon. But just to chat? If you didn't see my obit, I ain't dead; I will assume the same for you, and we'll chat when I see you.

Apparently, this makes me irresponsible and bitchy.

I don't email jokes, nor do I respond to email jokes I receive. It's a joke! If we were hanging out and you told me joke would you expect me to say, "Ha!Ha!Ha!" or make a face like one of those stupid emoticons? Maybe you'd prefer I told you a joke you had heard twelve times in the office, just like most of the email jokes I get through interoffice email marked "For Business Use Only." And Facebook, tweets, causes? Weren't computers supposed to make our lives easier, enable us to "do the things we really wanted to do" with all the free time we'd have? Judging by standards others believe I should maintain, I've always wanted to feed fake farm animals, air dirty laundry at alarming speeds, and verbally support non-violent schools in every state. I have to ask, is there a cause for violent schools?

Apparently, this makes me lazy, bitter and snooty.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I'm hearing is:

Because my family is more important to me than any other individuals on the face of the earth, because I love to cook and clean for them, because I work part-time out of the home, help my husband with his business in our home, write, homeschool, walk my dogs once a day for exercise and spend the rest of my time in the Word (reading), around the Word (church and church groups), about the Word (practicing it by serving others)... I need help. So be it.  

Do You Hear Yourself?

My new favorite show is "Hard Time" on NatGeo.  I've occasionally wondered whether God has a purpose for piquing my interest in prisons.  Maybe prison ministry.  Hopefully not prison in general.  But I guess one is His choice, and the other would be left entirely up to me.  Anyway.  I hear so many of these guys talking tough, posturing, trying to maintain an illusion of control.  My favorite is the guy freshly released from prison, in his early thirties, ninety-three dollars in his pocket and riding shotgun to his new accommodations at mommy and daddy's house.  Still he brags, "I made myself who I am today; I am responsible for everything I have right now."  Oh, the irony.
9.3 million or ninety-three cents, I pray no one will ever hear me brag I have achieved anything in life!  If you do, stop me in my tracks IMMEDIATELY!  All I have "earned" by a temporal sort of definition, all I was ever given, was given at God's discretion and by His grace.  Understand, that as human beings who have thumbed our noses as the very One Who breathed into us the breath of life, and determined to do this thing on our own, we are entitled to do nothing but go it ALONE -- in a most desolate sort of way, a way that leads to certain death.
In spite of this, God gives.  Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue recently gave an interview in which he states, "I'm so blessed, and I don't know why."  Well, I do.  But it doesn't come without a price.
"See, I knew there had to be a catch," you say.
Well, here it is: You have to put it to God use -- not a typo, not "good use" -- God use.  He gives to us as stewards.  Think about that.  Although you are controlling, managing, distributing, allocating -- you are doing it for someone else; you are a servant of the master.  Or in this case, The Master.  It does not belong to you.  Though you may allot some for you salary, even that you can't take with you.  The gain itself -- money, brains, good looks, athleticism, musical talent, even great health -- is temporal; the stewardship is of an eternal nature.
I pray today that not only do I humbly give due thanks to The Giver of Good Gifts, but I recognize and with all my energy fulfill my responsibility as His steward.
And, having said that -- Scott and some of my friends have been on my case for several months now about "stepping things up" -- writing a book, getting published, following my dream and my calling.  I know I need to be a better steward of my talent.  So, there it is -- my committment to taking my own advice.              

It's Not Always the Thought that Counts

I was just admiring how my husband's brain works.  Just a little background here -- when I first met Scott he was, let's say, a little rough around the edges.  (Some say "scary")  His lifestyle was more conducive to murder-suicide than growth and development.  He still remains high-strung, but it is tempered with much happier, healthier choices; I choose to believe he is using his powers for good instead of evil. 

For example, one day I was admiring a couple of wooden dog crates.  Scott said, "I can build them."  Three prototypes later (Bishop kept eating his way out) and an entire wall unit dedicated to canine comfort and storage...

...we have personalized dog crates that Ethan Allen would envy.

The other day we dabbled in a discussion about "assisted reproductive technology," provoked by th issue of Social Security benefits for children conceived after a parent's death.  Scott casually tossed about euphemisms such as "Fast Freddie" and "Johnny Appleseed" to describe the paternal winner in the race to conception.  We wound up on opposite sides of the argument, as we usually do, but it's never dull, and it's never personal.

But what caught my attention today was his prayer.  The simplicity of it all, the submission, the love and care that went into each thought -- a man praying for the will of One Whom he wishes to honor and glorify, asking God Almighty's blessing on his family as specifically as if he were filling out a written request, admitting his inadequacies but approaching the King of Kings with the confidence and familiarity of a child curling up on his father's lap.

We often joke that, left to its own devices, Scott's mind can be a very dangerous place.  I guess it's a good thing Someone Else has control of his heart!

Re-Re-Re-Redemption... That's How Jesus Rolls

I haven't been feeling well lately.  So, in my PJ's on the sofa, going stir crazy, I discovered the mind-numbing entertainment of television -- specifically, Stories of the ER, or some such dramatic nonsense.  In today's episode: even after numerous panicked trips to the ER (hence the name, I suppose) a pastor was having serious heart problems, for no apparent reason.  A member of his congregation approached him about doing a sleep study; long story short, the pastor's problems stemmed from sleep apnea.  The pastor credited his friend and congregant with "literally saving [his] life."

What tremendous gratitude this pastor and his wife must feel toward the other man.  Let's face it, this was huge -- a reprieve from certain, maybe even painful death, an escape from the clutches of mortal ends.  But now what?

Let's suppose next month the pastor is diagnosed with inoperable cancer.  Will his redeemer be able to offer another suggestion or service to save him from death?  Let's say he does.  Thirty years later, when the pastor is well into the end of his years, will that congregant be standing by to pull him from the fate that awaits all temporal beings?  Or maybe he could just stick around to make sure the pastor doesn't break a hip, or catch a cold.  Nope.  Let's face it.  The redemption is done, the deed is over.  For as much as we can do for one another, we can never accomplish what Jesus accomplished on the cross.  Nor, can we offer anyone the daily, hourly, moment-by-moment salvation that is part of a personal relationship with Jesus.  Knowing Jesus not only saves me from eternal death and separation, but if I am following Jesus, obeying Him, seeking to glorify Him -- well, perhaps I will never know exactly what I have been saved from, be it physical or moral, emotional or financial.  But I do know that, like no other, He is with me with every beat of my heart.