Strawberry Pie

    "I can hold that if you want," I told my co-teacher, Raelynn. 
    "I can hold it," she said confidently, starting the car. 

    I surveyed the situation dubiously from the passenger seat. The mostly full pie plate was balanced delicately, and Raelynn was supposed to be driving. 

    All went well until we swung into the driveway. The pie, escaping from Raelynn's grasp, flung itself facedown all over the center console. It was a mess. 

    Luckily, Raelynn was of a cheery disposition and saw the humor, even amid the strawberries and cool whip now adorning her car. If only she had let me help her out and hold the pie, the disaster could have been averted. Instead of cleaning the console, we could have been polishing the last bits off our plates. 

    So often we think we can make it on our own. We don't need others in our lives. We are holding the pie and are sure we can manage it just fine. And then everything we thought we had under control flies to pieces. 

    It takes humility to admit our need for others. It takes giving of ourselves to be there for someone else. It's sometimes scary and painful to depend on others, but the blessings far outweigh the pain. 

    As we travel through life, we need to share each others burdens. There is little hope for a person who chooses to try living a life void of others. Reach out a hand and lift a burden. Relinquish a weight you are carrying to a friend. Perhaps someday, after we've helped each other home, we'll all sit down and enjoy a piece of pie together.

A Real Artist

     Norman Rockwell refused to call himself an artist. He saw real art as being more a Rembrandt thing, not the homey images he was so popular for. He tried different painting styles, searching his soul to see if there was a "real artist" hidden somewhere inside. When there was an outcry from his publisher, he stopped. Though America at large lauded his prowess with the brush and the way he was able to bring people to life upon a canvas, he never gave himself a title other than illustrator.
    I understand, I think. many times I've tried to search myself to see if I am a "real artist" or a "real writer" or a "real teacher." Maybe you've been there, too, wondering if you are truly completing your mission as a mother, a friend, a daughter, or whatever other position you find yourself filling. The standards we set for ourselves can be very high. 
    There is one area of life that I sometimes discover it is difficult to search: my relationship with God. The feeling I get is akin to being atop a very tall building and being afraid of looking down. What will I see? What if I fall? What if I can't do it? It's just easier to stand back and say, "Oh, yes, I'm sure I'm a Christian."
    As time on earth draws to a close, searching my relationship with God is the most important thing of all for me to ponder. Unfortunately it's not very pleasant. It seems much easier to compare myself to those I see around me. My high standards disappear, and I'm quite happy to say, "See? I'm holding a paintbrush. I must be an artist!" We forget that anyone can slap paint on a canvas, but it takes an artist to make the colors blend into a picture.
    We would like to think that just because I follow most or all of the Church's guidelines I'm OK. A living, breathing, passionate relationship with Christ is smothered by our own ideas and the hope that we'll be all right depending on customs, traditions, and head knowledge.
    It's not enough. We've got to go deeper. It's not our standards that matter, but those of God. Yes, it's scary to let God lead us deeper. Our knees tremble as we stand looking down into the depths of our own hearts, but there's no alternative for those who wish to be saved.
    Are you a "real Christian?" Don't depend on your own discernment alone. Open up to a friend. Talk to your minister. Seek advice from an elder you trust. But above all, take it up with God. Don't be afraid of where He will lead you. His heart wishes only to draw you nearer to Him. His steady hand will help you hold the brush and guide you in living the life of a true artist. 

Launchers

    James was working in his desk again. The lid was up and he was furtively doing something inside. As I approached, the lid went down quickly and he got to work on the math page in front of him. 

    "What have you got going on here?" I asked, as I lifted the desk lid. I viewed with trepidation the collection of bent paper clips, tiny springs, and other small pen parts that seem to intrigue fourth and fifth grade boys.

    "It's my workshop," he said explained.

    "What are you building?"

    "Oh, a launcher," he said. 

    I groaned inwardly. I love the creativity of my students, but why, oh why, do they try to build when there is other work to be done? They know they will only get in trouble. And why is every boy on the face of the planet obsessed with things that launch?

    Sometimes we, too, build things, even though they will lead us to trouble. We build them covertly where others cannot see. Often they may never notice that something is happening. But you and I know. In the secret places of our hearts we erect idols.

    They may start out small, but invariably they grow. Maybe it's the idol of perfection or peer pressure. Maybe it's the the idol of wealth. You know your idols better than I do.

      Almost without us realizing it, these idols take our eyes off God, the Master Teacher. Suddenly, devotions aren't so important, church becomes an option, our fervent love for Him is cooled.

    God hates idols. We have it in His Word in Ezekiel 14. Tear down your idols. Turn your heart toward God. Get back to work on the assignments He has given you. They are so much greater than any idol you will ever construct.

Toilet Plunger

     Sawyer's teacher was surprised one day when he broke the boys' bathroom mirror. He was a bit mischievous, but this event seemed a little out of character. After some questioning the full story came out.
    Sawyer had seen the older boys do this cool thing several times where they suctioned the toilet plunger onto the mirror. It looked fun, so he'd decided to try it. Imagine his surprise when he went to pull the plunger off and the entire mirror came with it! There was no way to hide his guilt so he confessed to his teacher. 

    Why did the mirror not come off the wall for the older boys? The answer was simple. They had realized that the seal needed to be broken before they could pull the plunger free. Sawyer had somehow neglected to take note of this fine point, and so became the one to make the fatal mistake and bear the punishment.

    Have you ever pulled a mirror off the wall using a plunger? It's likely more common than you think. I know I've pulled many a mirror off! I look at the lovely dreams and ideas I've created for myself and attach myself to them so closely there's no room for God to work. I  seal my plans off tightly from Him and try to proceed on my own. Then, when everything crashes about my feet I stand in foolish amazement, surprised I couldn't make a go of things.

    It's hard, yes, but you and I both know we've got to step back. We've got to break the seal of our own will and give God room to work. Maybe His plan doesn't look like as much fun. Probably, if you're like me, you'll question if it will even turn out at all. 

    Trust Him. You've nothing to lose. Break the seal. Give Him the space He needs to do His perfect work, and be amazed by the wonders He alone can perform.

    

She Said Yes

    The book, She Said Yes, is the true story of a teenage girl's descent into hopelessness and how she managed to escape. Cassie Bernall slowly succumbed to the influence of bad friendships until she hovered at the edges of Satanic worship. Through the grace of God, she was released and redeemed.

    The story, though, does not stop there. When two of her classmates entered her school armed with deadly weapons, one of them spotted Cassie. Knowing of her faith in God he asked her, "Do you believe in God?" With no hesitation, Cassie's last word on earth was "Yes" as she affirmed her faith.

    We, too, are met with many questions that need a yes. God, through the Holy Spirit, asks us, "Are you willing to give up that attitude?" Sometimes it's a new purchase or a dearly held dream He asks us to part with. Sometimes He needs our yes to go about His business, simply handing out a tract, taking time to listen, texting an encouraging message. But whatever it is, He needs our yes.

    The world around us would condition us to believe that saying no is our right and privilege. Popular opinion tells us that we need to take care of ourselves, our dreams, our wishes, our desires first.. That has its place, certainly, to some degree. Our earthly bodies can't handle everything. Yet as Christians do we have a right to tell God no? He will not require more of us than we are able to give.  

     Like Cassie we will sacrifice ourselves with our answers. Usually it is not our mortal body that is sacrificed, but our selfish human natures. How carnal man rebels at this notion of being subdued and humiliated! But, again like Cassie, the death of our flesh will matter little in the light of an eternal reward.

    With Heaven almost in sight, don't hesitate to say yes, whether asked to abandon the things of this earth or to reach out a helping hand. Every yes will be worth it.

    She Said Yes: The Unlikely Martyrdom of Cassie Bernall is a true story about the shooting at Columbine High School in 1999. The book is written by Misty Bernall, Cassie's mother. I am inspired with God's ability to reach people and make a difference in their lives every time I read her story! 

Daddies Don't Forget Their Little Girls

     This poem is far from new, and many of you have likely heard it before, but its message remains very dear to me. It was written January 28, 2009, and first recited at a community supper the same year. I hope you find the same comfort in this thought that I do.

Daddies Don't Forget Their Little Girls

She trembled on the corner bench

Where Daddy told her wait,

And she watched the sun start sinking

As the hour became late.

Daddy'd went and left her here,

For an errand he'd had to do-

"Just stay right here," he told her,

"And I'll come back for you."

But now the streetlights flickered on,

And yet she sat alone.

Shivering in the evening breeze,

I heard her softly moan:

"Daddy! Wherever are you?

I'm weary and tired and cold!

I want you here beside me-

I want your hand to hold!"

But still there was no daddy-

A tear ran from her eye-

And then another, yet another,

As she began to cry.

So forlorn was her state!

A man coming up the street

Saw the child weeping there

On the bench's wooden seat.

Heavy-hearted he sat down

And murmured very near,

With his arm about her shoulders:

"What's the matter, dear?"

The little girl looked up at him

With joy so great to see,

And blurted, "Daddy! I thought

You had forgotten me!"

Her father kissed her gently

With a hand upon her curls,

Then softly told her, "Daddies

Don't forget their little girls."

So oft we find we're wandering

Confused and feel alone.

We want to feel a father's love,

But only find a stone.

It seems that He's forgotten

and lost forever we'll stay-

That we will have to walk alone

Upon the toilsome way.

But then we must remember,

Never mind what Satan hurls...

God's the greatest Father, and daddies

Don't forget their little girls.