BEWARE THE FINE PRINT

 

My sister would never take medication until she read the fine print on the packaging.  Then she wouldn’t take it at all.  By law, pharmaceutical firms are required to list every possible side effect whether or not it has ever been suffered.  Last, on many of these lists of side effects, is the word “death.”

June was always sure she would be the one who would fall victim to these unusual exceptions.  Hence, no medication, even if it would save her life.

I took her to the dentist a few days ago.  While filling out her “new patient” files, I read through a long list of illnesses which might or might not trouble her.  I was supposed to check off the ones that applied to June.  I had to laugh, when I realized that she was not troubled by any of these frightening maladies.  There were no checkmarks.  Me?  I would have had to check off at least six items.  It seems that reading the fine print has served my sister well.

Reading the fine print is indispensible in our times, for institutions and businesses are forever seeking ways to protect themselves from their own tricky practices.

I recently, after less than a week, returned a piece of equipment, for which I had paid cash.  The equipment had never been used and still sported its original tags.  I was told that I must forfeit 25 % of the purchase price.  When I objected, the salesman pulled out the paper work showing me the fine print.  Suffice it to say, “He had not directed my attention to that clause, when I made the purchase.”

A few years back, I went to the local Honda dealer ready to buy a new car. Actually, I am leery of car salesmen, but I knew exactly what I wanted, and I went armed with needed information.  Sitting down with the salesman, I told him what I wanted, and then I said, “Give me the bottom line.  I want to know exactly what I will pay.  I don’t want any surprises later.”

Then we went to look at cars, and I found the perfect one.  Returning to the sales room, we sat again at the desk, and the salesman added up the cost.  Taking the original amount he had quoted me, he began to add this and that and the other. “No, No, No!” I said, “I asked you for the bottom line.” “Yes, but then there is this and there is that, and…” he replied.

“Please give me my keys,” I demanded.

“But why,” he asked.

“Because I going home.  I don’t deal with dishonest people,” and I turned and left.

The next morning I received a call from the manager of the Honda Dealership.  He wanted to apologize hoping he could still sell me a car, but I was finished with them.

It is only smart to be cautious these days for we can no longer accept a man’s handshake as insurance against fraud.  Businesses have found a way to circumvent the courts and ban people from joining together in class action law suits by adding to the “fine print” a clause that says, “They may elect to resolve claims by INDIVIDUAL arbitration,” and that clause is always and only in the “fine print.”

The upshot is that it is nearly impossible for an individual to take on a multi-billion dollar corporation.  There is no way to win.

Now-a-days, it is difficult to apply for a credit card, use a cell phone, get cable or internet service, or shop on line without agreeing to private arbitration.  The same applies to getting a job, renting a car or placing a relative in a nursing home.

I must admit that my problems in this area have been minimal.  However many people have suffered big losses, but what are we to do?  We can continue to do business, (as we must) ignore the possibilities, and believe that everything will be all right, and for the most part, I guess, it will be.  Yet, I hate feeling that I must always be on guard lest I be cheated, so I am learning to “READ THE FINE PRINT!!!”

Companies have essentially made it impossible for an individual to challenge them.  Business has a good chance of ignoring the legal system all together and doing as it pleases without dire consequences.

It is disappointing, frustrating and hurtful to acknowledge that there are so many untrustworthy people and agencies in our society today.

Thank God!  There is still one in whom we can trust, for there is no “fine print” in God’s word.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and he will direct your paths.”

In Proverbs 30:5, we are told, “Every word of God is pure…”

Again, John 17:17 tells us, “…Your Word is truth.”

Matthew 24:35 declares, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My (God’s) words will by no means pass away.”

“TRUST IN THE LORD, AND DON’T DISPAIR…,” and READ THE FINE PRINT!

 

Remember the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT’S SO GOOD ABOUT FRIDAY?

WHAT’S SO GOOD ABOUT FRIDAY?

As a public school teacher more than fifty years ago, I still remember the clang of the dismissal bell on Friday afternoon, and the sense of relief that washed over me, as the last little hiney wiggled out the door.  Sitting at my desk I savored that brief moment, when those stress fighting endorphins were released flowing to the very tips of my toes relaxing every fiber of my being.

Actually, I enjoyed teaching, and I loved my little urchins, and at the same time, I was ecstatic that I wouldn’t be required to look into their shining faces again for another sixty hours or so.

TGIF!  Thank Goodness it’s Friday, or Thank God it’s Friday!

This well known, well used phrase is said to date back to 1941, at Ohio State University, where a group of undergraduates formed a booster club and named it “Thank God it’s Friday.” Doesn’t that sound just like a bunch of college kids?

While the phrase TGIF can trace its origin to the heartland of America, there are slight narrations or other equivalents used by peoples around the world.   No matter how it is said, each expression serves to celebrate the end of the work week or school week anticipating a week-end of fun and relaxation–no school, no work, more sleep, and family time.

My favorite time is Saturday afternoon—an afternoon, when there is absolutely nothing required of me.  I don’t have to get dressed.  I don’t have to put on makeup.  I can sleep, read, eat, watch T.V. or do nothing.

Sadly, those afternoons are very scarce—almost none existent.  It is my understanding that, for many if not most people, weekends are every bit as stressful as any other day.  All responsibilities that cannot be discharged Monday through Friday must be squeezed into the weekend, and we return to work on Monday more tired than when we left.

Truth is, stress has become one of the main ingredients of life, and there seems no way to avoid it.  Medications, psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists really have no lasting effect.

So!  What is so good about Friday?

Friggatriskaidekaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th.  Some say this day has been associated with misfortune since the 13 hundreds.  Seems the fear is very real affecting millions of people, and it is estimated that businesses, especially airlines, suffer from severe loss on Friday the 13th.

For the fearful there is no escape, for all years will have at least one Friday the 13th, but cheer up, there will never be more than three in one calendar year.  Friday, September 13, 2019 is the next.  Mark it on your calendar.

Others believe the myth has a Biblical origin, citing the fact that Jesus was crucified on a Friday, and there were thirteen guests at the Last Supper the night before the crucifixion.

However, I must tell you that, rather than being the source of fear, Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, on the third day, was and is the only source of hope and redemption for mankind.

Let me tell you the story.  It is found in the Gospel of John, chapters 18 and 19.  Read it for yourself.  After Jesus had prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane following the last meal with His disciples, like a criminal, He was arrested.  Early on Friday morning He stood before Caiaphas, the High Priest.  Then He was taken to Pilate, the Roman Governor of Judaea.  Upon the insistence of the Jews and their leaders, Pilate finally released Jesus to them to be crucified.  He was beaten, and a crown of thorns jammed upon His head.  Robed in purple bearing His own cross, He was led to Calvary, where He was crucified between two thieves.

Jesus’ death was the sure fire, fool proof, unassailable, guaranteed, fail-safe, never-failing antidote for this world’s wickedness, hurt, sadness, failure, and, YES, the stress that results from the mess we have made.

On that Friday morning, when Jesus committed Himself to this horrendous death on the cross, when He said, “It is finished,” and bowed His head and died, the Spiritual Endorphins, His own precious blood, flowed from Calvary providing forgiveness, peace, rest, hope and healing for the weary soul—Redemption for all mankind.

Jesus’ last words, “It is finished,” were words signifying that God’s work was complete.  This sinless man had been obedient to the Father’s plan sacrificing His very life.  Nothing else need be done.  He did it all for you.  He did it all for me.  The only piece left in this puzzle is our acceptance of the sacrifice He made.

So, what’s so good about Friday?

This Friday in particular points forward to new life beginning on resurrection morning, when Jesus arose from the grave.  That’s what’s so good about Friday!

Matthew 28: 5-6.  “But the angel answered and said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here; for He is risen, as He said.  Come see the place, where the Lord lay.’”

The old song says:

“He lives.  He lives. Christ Jesus lives today.

He walks with me and talks with me

Along life’s narrow way.

He lives.  He lives salvation to impart.

You ask me how I know He lives.

He lives within my heart.”

 

BLESSED GOOD FRIDAY and GLORIOUS EASTER to YOU!

 

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

APRIL FOOLS’ DAY

Little is known about the origin of this April tradition, but the predominant theory dates from about 1582, the year France adopted the Gregorian calendar, which switched the beginning of the year from what’s now the end of March to the first of January.  Some folks, out of ignorance or stubbornness or both, continued to ring in the New Year on April 1.   They were made the target of jokes and pranks on account of their foolishness.  Hence, they were April Fools.

The custom of setting aside a day for the playing of harmless pranks upon one’s neighbors has historically been relatively common around the world.  It’s supposed to be fun, but I wonder.

As well as people playing pranks on one another on April Fools’ Day, elaborate practical jokes have appeared on radio and TV stations, and in newspapers, and have been performed by large corporations.  In one famous prank, The BBC broadcast a film in their current affairs series claiming to show Swiss farmers picking freshly grown spaghetti, in what they called “The Swiss Spaghetti Harvest.”

The BBC was overwhelmed with requests to purchase a spaghetti plant forcing them to admit the film was a hoax.

In 1938, on Halloween Eve, “War of the Worlds,” a science fiction novel by H.G. Wells, was dramatized on a CBS radio program.  At the beginning, it was announced that the program was an adaptation of this novel.  However, it caused panic for those listeners, who tuned in late, not knowing the Martian invasion was fictional.

This panic was bolstered by fictitious news bulletins, which periodically interrupted the broadcast.  “Odd explosions observed on Mars, A strange cylindrical object falling from the sky, Martians using heat rays, War machines spouting poisonous gas.”

The program has become famous for supposedly tricking some listeners into believing that a Martian invasion was actually taking place.  Only at the thirty-minute break in the show, did people realize it was only a drama.

Widespread outrage was expressed in the media.  It was described as deceptive leading to an outcry against the broadcasters.

There are mixed opinions concerning April Fools’ Day.  Some say it is good for one’s health encouraging fun and laughter, thereby relieving strain and stress.  Others label it as being creepy and manipulative, rude and a little nasty and deceitful

Even as a fun-loving child I must admit that I don’t remember April Fools’ Day ever playing any kind of role in my life.  In a way, I was a sensitive, self-conscious child, who would not have taken kindly to pranks aimed at me, and as an adult, I will own that I still have difficulty with being the brunt of a joke.  The joke is on me, however, for this of course, makes me a prime target.

If our jokes and pranks, and hoaxes could be confined to innocent fun, all would be well, but in today’s world, hoaxes have become very serious, and hurtful.  One of the most recent examples being the fiasco in Chicago, where hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent, and hundreds of hours of law enforcement energy wasted.  You can’t laugh that one off.  You can’t slap someone on the back and shout, “April Fools!” Although, I’m imagining that the perpetrator is doing that very thing.

Our media is no longer reporting the news. It seems, at times, that they are making it up,  based on hearsay and innuendo.  Mr. Trump calls it “Fake News.” You can think what you will of him, but the press does not have the right to invent or even slant the news in one direction or another.  Talk about a hoax!

I am disturbed and confused at the climate in our country today, and I am not talking about “Global Warming.”  We have become hateful, critical, and abusive toward each other.  There was a time when we at least honored the office of our Congressmen, our President, or Supreme Court Justice.  No more!  Everyone is fair game.

Our beloved America is on a slippery slope headed downhill at breakneck speed.  We are no longer admired by the world. We are no longer held in high esteem.  We are no longer in love with ourselves.  I certainly can’t love the things that are going on today.  We can say, “I love America!”  But, we, you and I, are America.  The things we do and say—that is America.  So where does that leave us?

Remember the attack on our country on September 1, 2001?  Our Congress stood on the steps of the Capitol building singing “God Bless America.”   It was a heart bursting sight.  They were united for a brief time, but then it was back to business as usual.

In I Timothy 2:1-2, God says to us, “Here are my directions:  Pray much for others; plead for God’s mercy upon them; give thanks for all He is going to do for them.  Pray in this way for KINGS AND ALL OTHERS IN AUTHORITY over us, or are in places of high responsibility, (Presidents, congressmen, justices…) so that we can live in peace and quietness spending our time in Godly living…” LB

This is the solution to our dilemma!  This is God’s direction to us.  Pray for your family, your neighbors and our leaders, especially those whom you do not like.   PRAY!

REMEMBER, THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW!

CHASING RAINBOWS

 

            Petey was my sister’s little Apricot Poodle.  He had more personality than a dozen other dogs combined.  He was like a naughty two-year-old.  Petey stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.  I’m convinced he watched with eagle eye, and when someone laid down the remote, or a pair of eyeglasses or a writing pen, in a flash, this adorable puppy snatched it and furrowed under the table to gnaw it to shreds.  It was a game with Petey, and my sister fell for it every time.  She jumped up and yelled and chased him.  “Give it back!  Put it down, Petey!”   He loved it!

Every time the door was left ajar, he was out and down the street running lickety-split with his long apricot ears flapping in the breeze.  Terrified that he would be hit by a car my sister always chased after him yelling, “Petey stop!  Petey come home!”  Sometimes I chased with her.  Even the neighbors got into the act enticing him with a slice of bologna or some other delicacy.  Finally, June gave up.  Turning around, she started back to the house announcing, “I’m going home now,” and, without further coaxing Petey turned around and padded after her glad to come in out of the heat.

Chasing a dog in the 118 degrees August heat wasn’t fun, but thinking about that experience, I realized that we spend most of our lives chasing after one thing or another.

When we were kids, we chased after the ball, the dog and each other.  As teens, the girls chased the boys and the boys chased the girls.  Then life became serious, the future loomed, and we began to pursue more important things—the ingredients of a “good” life—the things that would make us happy.

According to the Dalai Lama, our sole purpose in life is to pursue, chase after, happiness.  Many people have bought into this believing that possessions, position, and prestige are the secrets to that longed-for happiness.  All their lives, they chase the dream convinced that if they can just earn a little more money, enlarge the business, acquire a snazzier automobile, live in a better neighborhood, and run with the beautiful crowd, life will be perfect.  Only to discover that happiness is fleeting, and the nose must be kept to the grindstone in order to sustain that lifestyle.

            “I’M ALWAYS CHASING RAINBOWS” was a popular vaudeville song first produced back in the early nineteen hundreds, but recorded by many artists through the years.  To me, the lyrics portray disappointment, defeat and unrealized dreams.

“I’m always chasing rainbows watching clouds drifting by.

My schemes are just like all my dreams ending in the sky.

Some fellows look and find the sunshine.

I always look and find the rain.

Some fellows make a winning sometimes.

I never even make a gain…”

What a sad, sad song!  A rainbow is a meteorological phenomenon.  It is an optical effect produced by sunlight and water droplets.  Yes, God gave us the rainbow as the sign of His promise to never again destroy the earth by flood, but the rainbow, though beautiful, is not something that can be physically approached, nor can it be leaned on or trusted in.  It is not a thing of substance, and it disappears almost as quickly as it appears.   Chasing rainbows is pointless.  My apologies to Irish Leprechauns.

I am sure the writer of these lyrics had in mind something more than an actual rainbow.  I believe he was thinking of those things for which we work so hard hoping that, miraculously, they will produce the life we long for—that magically our dreams will come true.

Contentment is an ingredient in short supply in today’s world, because whatever it is, IT’S NEVER ENOUGH!  We strive so hard to get ahead, to acquire more stuff, to “keep up with the Joneses,” to make a better life that we leave ourselves no time to enjoy the simple pleasures.  Don’t you just wish sometimes that you could forget about what your friends have and what your neighbors are doing?

Our hearts and minds are so fixated on the present, on stockpiling the “good” things that we have little thought for the future—for eternity.

Matthew 6:19-20 (The Message) counsels us to “…stockpile treasures in heaven…” because those earthly treasures, on which we set such store, are in danger of being “…eaten by moths and corroded by rust or –worse!—stolen by burglars.”

Matthew is telling us that those things we chase so aggressively are just as unsubstantial, just as fragile, just as fleeting as the rainbow.

There is only one true source of the peace and happiness we so long for, and that is God Himself.

In Psalm 63:1, David cries, “O God, You are my God; early will I seek you; my soul thirsts for you…”

Again in Hebrews 11:6 “…He(God) is a rewarder of those who diligently seek (who chase after) Him.”

CHASE AFTER GOD.  HE IS THE ONLY SOURCE OF REAL HAPPINESS!

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT AN EXAMPLE

WHAT AN EXAMPLE

            I am thinking this morning of the well-publicized University Scandal.  That it is a disgrace, most people agree.  Yet, I cannot help but wonder about the children involved.  Did they know about the deception?  Were they party to the dishonest deals?  Then I am tempted to think, “Oh well, they are children of well-heeled parents, spoiled, privileged kids, who have been given everything their heart ever desired.  So, why not four years of partying at Stanford or Yale?”

However, I must consider the hurt and embarrassment these young men and women may be suffering.  Their parents may pay fines, and some may spend time in prison, but the kids now have a black mark on their reputation, and their chances for a quality education in a fine institution, if that is what they really looked forward to, are damaged, perhaps beyond fixing.  What a wonderful example their parents have set for them!  If you don’t qualify for it—if you don’t want to work for it, just steal it!

I am the first and only one in my immediate family to graduate from college earning an advanced degree.  My brother Lincoln was Full Professor at Florida State University, not because of his college education—World War II deprived him of that, but because of his many years of experience and diligent work in the World of Opera.  My brother Paul was a wonderful pastor for more than sixty years, but not because of his college education, for there was no money for such a thing.  He studied as long as he could, working as much as possible, but never able to finish.  He was self-taught digging in and working hard becoming one of the best preachers in the country, but without a degree.

Our parents were God fearing, hard working, and intelligent people with little formal education.  My Mom graduated eighth grade, but my father, who was needed on the farm, only had three years of schooling.

Three things were important to my Daddy—hard work, honesty, and his faith.  It wasn’t so much that my parents disdained higher education they just couldn’t pay for it.

When I decided I was going to college, my parents didn’t discourage me, but I knew I would have to make it happen.  So, after high school, while my classmates went off to college, I went to work.  I worked in a factory for a year making pajamas for SEARS.  I was guaranteed seventy-five cents per hour, but I was fast, so I doubled my earnings, $60.00 a week.

Sewing pockets on pajamas for an entire year was boring, believe me, but I was determined to get to “Southwestern,” one of our church colleges in Waxahachie, Texas.  I gave my Mom and Dad $15.00 a week to help pay bills, and I saved almost every nickel of the rest of my income. Wow, a $1,000.00—my savings for the year!  Though it wouldn’t get you around the corner in today’s economy, it was a good chunk of money in 1955.

Early in September that year, I packed my footlocker, boarded a Grey Hound Bus, and made my way to Waxahachie.  I subsidized my $1,000.00 by working part-time on campus first in the laundry and then in the Choir Director’s Office.  My savings almost got me through two years of college.  Today, at that same school, tuition and living expenses on campus is close to $35,000.00 per year.  Even that doesn’t compare to Harvard’s costs.

At the end of my second year, I was in debt to the college for $200.00.  I couldn’t go back until that debt was paid.  Try as I might, I couldn’t find a summer job.  My heart was broken.  I wanted so much to return.  Mama knew my sorrow.  One morning she disappeared for a couple of hours.  When she returned, she put her arms around me, and, with tears in her voice, said, “Pack your suitcase. You are going back to school.”  After a good cry, I did just that.

Mama had been to the bank and based on her good name only, she borrowed $200.00 to get me back to school.  She paid it back by hard, sometimes backbreaking work, but she never regretted her sacrifice.

My Master’s Degree Certificate hangs on the wall above the desk where I am now writing.  I am grateful for a good education.  I am grateful that it wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter, nor was it stolen.

Honestly, I don’t know if I would entrust a child of mine to one of these prestigious universities that have become more like a four-year summer camp, where courses meant for those living in fairytale land are offered.  Courses such as “The Amazing World of Bubbles,” “The Unbearable Whiteness of Barbie,” “Lady Gaga and the Sociology of Fame,” “Pattern Making for Dog Garments,” “The Joy of Garbage,” “What if Harry Potter is Real?,” and many more such ridiculous  offerings.

I have discovered that you don’t have to go to Princeton or Brown to receive a good education.  You can go to a small college in a Podunk town, where qualified professors care about students mentoring and encouraging them to rise to their highest potential.  That’s the kind of undergraduate education I was exposed to.

Yes, I am thankful.  I’m thankful for the example my parents set for me.  From them, I learned hard work, sacrifice, and honest living.  They gave me everything I needed and more.  I would not be where I am today were it not for their exemplary, sacrificial life.

In 2 Corinthians chapter 9, the Apostle Paul commends the cheerful giver.  In verse 10, he says, “Now may he who supplies seed to the sower, and bread for food, supply and multiply the seed you have sown and increase the fruits of your righteousness.”

In 1955, my Mama sowed $200.00 into the soil of my life.  Her seed multiplied.  It grew into more than forty wonderful years of active, full-time ministry, and it still multiplies today, through my Bible teaching.

I AM THANKFUL FOR THE EXAMPLE OF HONEST, HARD WORKING, GODLY PARENTS.

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

You surely have had one of those days.  You know the kind that starts with such promise and little by little unravels into a tangled mess leaving you frustrated, despondent and a little angry.  Nothing catastrophic has happened—just a bunch of, comparatively small, unpleasant surprises that you can’t fix.

This is a stressful time of year for me because, as my sister’s guardian and conservator, on or before March 10, I must file papers with the court proving that I am neither abusing her, nor am I stealing her money.

I learned the hard way that it is smart to hire an accountant to handle the financial report.  He likes to keep me on pins and needles each year wondering whether or not he will finish it before the deadline.  Bless him!  He sent the final copy yesterday, five days early.

I awoke this morning with great anticipation.  I would finally hand my reports over to the court, and forget about them for eight or nine months, while they drag their feet deciding whether or not to grant their stamp of approval.  I could feel the stress slipping away, as I struck out for the courthouse.

Of course, the closest parking place was thirteen miles away, but I finally made it through security allowing my cane to be scanned, I don’t know what they thought I had in it. I headed down the hallway toward the Probate Office, but the Probate Office was no longer there.  Upon inquiring, an officer told me that it had never been there.  Oh, really?  “It’s on the second floor where it’s always been,” he said.  It wasn’t there either, so after limping around for miles, I finally came back downstairs, and there was the office, just around the corner.

Thankfully, I didn’t wait long before my number was called.  The pretty girl took my papers, “That will be $300.00,” she said.

“For what,” I demanded.   “I have to pay you for doing something you make me do?”

The clerk had an extended conversation with the girl behind the next window, and together, they decided, “Yes, $300.00.”  I didn’t have $300.00, and they wouldn’t let me write a check, the rules will not allow me to use my credit card to pay my sister’s bills.  Being reimbursed is a sticky business that requires a lot of explaining, but I had no choice.  Suffice it to say, “I left the courthouse thoroughly deflated.”

From there, I traveled across town to return a walker I had purchased at a Mobility Store.  I didn’t need it after all, so I wanted my money back.  Wonderful news!  I had to forfeit 25% of the original purchase price for a restocking fee.  When I objected, the salesman pointed to a sign high on the wall on the other side of the show room.  “Of course,” I said.  “I’m going to nose around the store ferreting out all your sales rules before I make a purchase.”  Though he insisted he would have to resell the walker as used, I knew better.  It had never been out of my car and still had all the tags on it.

We finally agreed that he would return everything but the sales tax.  This morning, I discovered that he had cheated me by $7.00.  I hate that!  Oh well, it was one of those days.  I even left the grocery store without my groceries, and my brother wasn’t home when I called to whine to him about my crumby day.

What do you do with a day like that?  Well, you can come home and pout and complain and feel sorry for yourself.  I must admit I did exactly that for a while, but honestly, that kind of behavior takes a lot of energy, and I am a bit lazy.  So what is the alternative?

Psalm 118:24 says, “This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Does that mean every day?  Did God actually make this insufferable day? Must I really be glad about it?  I think so!  However, if we remember that GOD IS IN CONTROL, He knows exactly what is happening, and He has allowed those annoyances in our life, that makes all the difference in the world.

“…I will rejoice and be glad in it.” That’s hard to do, but it’s a lot more fun than pouting.   Shout joyfully to the Lord.  Come into His presence with singing, dance a little jig, for the Lord is God, and you belong to Him.  You are one of His lambs.  That assurance alone ought to be enough to lift the gloom.

A song I used to sing with children says it all.

Happiness is to know the Savior

Living a life within His favor

Having a change in my behavior

Happiness is the Lord.

Real joy is mine no matter if the teardrops start.

I’ve found a secret.  It’s Jesus in my heart.

Happiness is to be forgiven

Living a life that’s worth the liven’

Taking a trip that leads to heaven,

Happiness is the Lord.

Tomorrow may be another one of those days, even a day with tears.  Who knows?  Just remember He is in control, and…

The sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOD BLESS AMERICA

GOD BLESS AMERICA

No, it is not the 4th of July, but I am thinking about my beloved country today—no longer beloved by many, much to my sorrow.

Our President is in Viet Nam negotiating with Kim Jung Un about denuclearizing  North Korea while, at the same time Congress is in session trying desperately to find reason to impeach him.  Celebrities are fabricating stories about being personally terrorized, and politicians are promising to turn everything green and give away the store, while Americans are approving the murder of newborn babies.

I am thinking of those who sacrificed to make America a great country—a country once admired throughout the world.  From the Pilgrims, who made that perilous journey across the Atlantic to the boys who died in the Iraq War, and are still dying to defend our land, untold sacrifice has been made.

I was three weeks shy of my sixth birthday when Pearl Harbor was attacked and The United States of America declared war on the country of Japan.

I was much too young to understand the enormity of things that were going on in our world, but I did know there was concern in our home.  Mama was afraid her boys would have to go to war, and they did.  Three of my brothers served our country during that long, drawn out nightmare.

For the most part, I was a happy carefree, uninformed child during the war years, but there are things I do remember.  For example, there was V Mail or Victory Mail.  The morale of our military depended, to a great degree, on news from home, so mail was important.  V-mail letters were written on a thin, blue, 7 X 9 1/8th inch page, which, when folded properly, formed its own envelope.  Our V-mail letters were censored, removing any sensitive information, copied to film and printed back to paper, reduced in size by 60%, upon arrival at its destination.   Thirty-seven mail bags were replaced by one single sack, and 2,575 pounds of mail was reduced to a mere 45 pounds.  V-mail also deterred espionage communication.  Small and brief though it was, we anxiously watched for and devoured every letter from our boys.  It wasn’t unusual to receive a letter with parts missing. “LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS,” was a well-worn slogan during the war.

I remember the British Air Cadets who trained at Falcon Field just northeast of our little town.  My high school sister, who worked at the corner drugstore fountain, fell in love with Jimmy.  In time, Jimmy was shipped back to England to fight the war in Europe, but letters arrived faithfully until they didn’t arrive at all.  What happened to Jimmy?  He either fell out of love or was shot down over Germany.  My sister was truly one of the wars wounded.  She often sang to me:

There’ll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover,

Tomorrow, just you wait and see.

There’ll be love and laughter and peace ever after,

Tomorrow, when the world is free…

And Jimmy will go to sleep in his own little room again…”

 

Then there was rationing.  So many resources had to be reserved for the military, mail from home and good food encouraged our boys, while at the same time, making many things scarce to the general public.  Sugar, tires, gasoline, meat, coffee, butter, chocolate, canned goods, shoes and many other things were difficult to come by.

Every person, from the youngest baby to the oldest grandpa, had two rationing books—blue for processed foods, and red for meat, fish and dairy products.  The rationing books were filled with stamps that must be presented at the store when any of these items were purchased.  No stamp, no purchase!  When the stamps for a certain item were used up, you couldn’t buy anymore until next month’s rationing books were issued.  Everyone was allowed only two pairs of shoes each year.

World War II was the backdrop for the world debut of Margarine.  Margarine was a glob of white stuff accompanied by a capsule of yellow food coloring.  Mama put the white stuff in a bowl and mixed the food coloring in.  It looked like butter, but in our home, “fake” butter created somewhat of a crisis.  Daddy would have none of it.   There were farmers in the church, where my father was pastor.  They often brought us real butter and other dairy products.  Daddy always bragged to visitors about our real butter, but sometimes it was not real at all.  Mama got a big laugh out of that.

We saved cans and planted Victory Gardens.  Women went to work in factories doing the jobs vacated by our men, who were fighting on the foreign front.  Everyone sacrificed in one way or another.

For a six year old the scarcity of bubble gum was probably the greatest sacrifice, and I did miss my brothers.

In some ways, those war years were good years.  Americans came together.  We were one united family loving the same thing, working for the same thing, and fighting against the same enemy.  We had one great purpose—keep our country free and bring our boys home.

The majority of people went to church, and even if they didn’t believe, there was still a sense of respect for God and the rule of law.

I look at my country now and see how things have unraveled.  It seems there is no longer any respect for anyone or anything.  Judges 21:25 says, “In those days…everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”  That sort of describes what is going on today.

I do want America to be great again, but in spite of how hard our president is working, and the good things he is accomplishing, I believe there is only one way that is ever going to happen.

Psalm 33: 12 says, “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord…”  America will never be great unless God is great among us—unless He is our Lord.

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

GRATEFULLY SURPRISED

GRATEFULLY SURPRISED

Has it really been two years since I moved my seventy-eight-year-old baby sister out of the house, where she had lived for forty-three years, and into an adult, assisted living facility?  Seems impossible!  June suffers from Alzheimer’s.

For many heartbreaking weeks, I cleaned out, threw away, gave away, sold, and packed up my sister’s whole life, with the exception of a few choice items, saved to furnish and decorate her room at the new residence.  Those were stormy, tearful, exhaustingly sad days for both of us.

In the beginning, being extremely paranoid, June was certain that her caregivers were stealing her jewelry and clothing.  She would wad up her favorite things and hide them in drawers or in the corner behind the bureau.  She was combative to the degree that caregivers were hesitant to enter her room.  I tried to be there to smooth the path for everyone.  That’s hard, but that’s who I am.  Over the months, with the adjustment of medication, things improved.

I had committed to spending two afternoons a week with my sister.  As a court appointed guardian and conservator, I am required to see her only once a month.  But, she is my sister!  So, I went faithfully on Tuesday and Friday afternoon.  Did I want to go?  Not always!  Sometimes we fussed because I had little enough sense to try to reason with her.  When I finally learned to agree with my sister, or just keep silent, the yelling stopped and things were much calmer.

When I was angry with her, as I often was, I tried to remember special times we had shared.  I thought of the chubby toddler with big blue eyes and a mass of curly hair.  I remembered the sweet kindergartener I pushed high in the swings at recess time, the summers we sat in the living room floor playing “Sorry” all day long.  Could I ever forget picking cotton beside her on Saturdays, in the summer heat, and the fun of singing together at church, and her poetry?  Of course, I remember the joy of singing at her wedding, and the sorrow at seeing the tears slide down her cheeks, as we stood beside the grave of her infant, stillborn son.  O, so many memories! Precious memories!

I have been sick this week, so I didn’t see June until yesterday.  Length of time evades her now.  If I say, “I’ll be back in three days,” that could be thirty days or tomorrow, so she is always pleased and surprised when I show up.  When I enter her room, like a child, with twinkling eyes, she asks, “Did you bring me something?”  I always take her a bit of chocolate.  I break it into small pieces and put it in her mouth.  She can no longer grip with her hands.

Our two hours together are spent watching “The Waltons,” and “Little House.”  She cannot manipulate the remote, so the TV stays on the same channel.  Actually, June talks continually always trying to tell me something that has happened or something she wants me to remember.  When she loses her words, she says, “I know what I want to say, but I can’t say it.”  If I try to help her by contributing a word or a name, she declares that I am worse off than she is.  Sometimes, out of frustration, she is angered, but many times she just laughs and I laugh with her.

Yesterday we talked about her husband.  When I called her attention to his handsome photo on the bureau, she said.  “I was wondering where he is.”

“Oh, sweetie, you remember,” I said.  “He is in heaven waiting for you.”

Her eyes widened, and with a smile, she said, “Oh, yes, in heaven!”

Then she said, “You look very pretty today.”

Looking at my watch I realized it was time to go.  “Is it all right if I leave?” I asked.

“Yes, but please be careful out there,” she replied.  “You know, you’re the only one I’ve got.”

I was surprised, gratefully surprised, at the pleasant time we had together.  Driving home, I realized that when I finally quit trying to fix her, trying to make her remember things she could not remember, when I decided to accept her as she is, our relationship improved immediately.  I pray for us every morning, but, honestly, I pray for myself more than for June.  I pray that God will give me wisdom, and understanding, a gentle spirit, and an abundance of love.

Now I look forward to our visits.  It is no longer a chore to be dispatched, but a time to be enjoyed.

Let me encourage you today.  Accept your loved ones for who they are.  You cannot fix them, but you can love them, pray for them, and serve them.  God will do the rest.

Romans 12:10 says, “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.”  These words speak for themselves.

REMEMBER, THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW!

 

 

 

 

AND THERE WAS LIGHT

 

Although Thomas Edison was not the inventor of the electric light bulb, twenty others came before his, he did produce the first commercially viable one – the first practical one, and literally changed the way we live after dark.

Prior to the light bulb, folks burned lamp oils or used natural gas (rather dangerous) for illumination.  I still have my mother’s old kerosene lamp, from nearly a century ago, when there was no access to electricity in rural areas.  Mama’s lamp is made of clear glass.  It consists of a bowl on a pedestal.  The bowl serves as a reservoir for the kerosene.  The lamp is equipped with a wick protected by a glass chimney.  The cotton wick dipping down absorbs the fuel, and produces a light when ignited.

I love the lamp because it was Mama’s and there’s something romantic about it, but never would I trade it for the light switch on my wall and the bulb it illumines with one touch.

Truth is we cannot live without light.  Oh, there are some parasitic plants that can live in complete darkness for a time, but no plant can live forever without sunlight, and there are some pale, furtive, multi-legged, eyeless animals that live in the dark of caves.  However, aside from a few exceptions, life demands light.

I live in Arizona, in the “Valley of the Sun.”  This valley gets 211 days of full sunshine each year plus 85 days of partial sunshine.  Yet, my doctor tells me that I must take Vitamin D capsules, because I don’t get enough sun.  I must admit that I actively avoid it, particularly in July and August, but to be healthy, I must be exposed to light.

Also, to be safe I need light.  I have never used a night light.  I just didn’t think I needed one.  However, a few months ago, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and fell over my recumbent bike that sets in my bedroom floor.  The bike hadn’t moved, but somehow I had strayed off my beaten path and nearly broke my neck.  Now, with the bathroom light on, I leave the door open a crack.  That makes all the difference.  Fact is we must have light in order to be safe.

To dispel the darkness- to find our way we need light.  We use flashlights, headlights, lighthouses, spotlights, floodlights, strobe lights, and for some reason, I think of the torch lifted high by The Statue of Liberty, and the words of Emma Lazarus.

“Give me your tired, your poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free…

Send these, the homeless, tempest tost to me.

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

 

For well over one hundred years, that torch has been a symbol of light to immigrants from all over the world saying, “Welcome!  You have found your way home.”

Not only our physical and mental being demand light in order to survive, but that spiritual part of me must also be illumined.

Genesis 1:1-3, tells us, “… God created the heavens and the earth… and darkness was upon the face of the deep…Then God said, “Let there be light, and there was light.”

Genesis 1:16, “Then God…made the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night.  He made the stars also.”

Now, for all these years, since creation, people and animals and plants have grown and flourished in the light of the sun, moon, stars, and the God given ingenuity of men.  I can’t imagine living without that marvelous light.

Sadly, though, I must admit that we live in a darkened world today.  Oh, the sun, moon, and stars are still functioning, but our world is darkened by hatred and bigotry, by strife and politics and greed and dishonesty.  No lighthouse or floodlight, however powerful, can dispel this kind of darkness.

The only antidote to this darkness is Jesus Christ Himself, who said, in John 8:12, “…I am the light of the world.  He who follows me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

            Jesus, the Son of our Creator, Jesus, who was there with the Father, when light was born, declares Himself to be the “Light of the World.”  He is ready to come into your life, any willing life, and dispel the darkness that lurks there.

If you are a follower of Christ, you need not fear the darkness for you have the “Light of Life,” and according to Matthew 5:14 & 16, “You (also) are the light of the world.  A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.”  So—“Let your light shine before men…”

Can you imagine what a faithful, shining army of Christ followers could do to push back the darkness that rules our world?

LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE!

 

REMEMBER, THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TAKING RISKS

TAKING RISKS

Yesterday I heard that Americans will place $6,000,000,000.00 in bets on the Patriots or the Rams, and they will sit through the Super Bowl, on February 3, hoping for or dreading the outcome of the game.  Many of them will lose their money, but that is the risk they are taking.  SIX BILLION DOLLARS!!!  That’s a whopping risk!  Many, if not most of us, cannot conceive of that much money.

I must own up.  I am not a football fan, nor am I a gambler, so I don’t care who wins.  I guess it’s all right, at my age, to admit that.

As I said, I don’t like taking risks.  The stock market, for example, scares me.  I’ve worked too hard for what I have to risk it in a volatile market.  However a few years ago, about 2008, (wouldn’t you know) I was advised to invest a small portion of my savings in stocks.  I was thrilled when, at the end of the first quarter, I had earned 12% interest.  At the end of the second quarter, I lost the 12% and part of my capital.  During the third quarter, I withdrew that bit of money and spent it on things I had been longing for.  So much for the Stock Market!

Life is inherently risky.  If you leave the house, cross the road, play football, spend time in the hospital—in a very real sense—it is a risk.  Everything we do is a risk.  The only way to avoid risks is to do nothing.

I suppose the riskiest decision I ever made was to marry, for the first time, at the age of seventy-seven.   My family thought I was nuts.  Friends cautioned me.  One woman backed me into a corner and told me how miserable her mother was, after marrying a second time at an advanced age.

Risking the loss of my prized independence terrified me. I came and went as I chose.  I lived the way I wanted.  My schedule was mine to arrange.  If I wanted to work in the middle of the night, there was no one to object.  I was accountable first to God and then to my church leaders.  That was it!  At that late juncture, I wasn’t looking for a man.  I had done quite well on my own.

My emotions ran rampant.  I was excited…fearful…hopeful…pessimistic.  I was determined I couldn’t do this:  yet, like the proverbial moth, I was drawn helplessly, hypnotically toward the flame.

However, when I walked down the aisle, on that beautiful cool, clear, cloudless day, I never once entertained the thought of risk.  The future beckoned to a life of love and laughter, and I couldn’t wait to get started.

Five months later my Cecil suffered and inoperable aortic hematoma and God took him home –away from me.  My pain was unbearable.  This made no sense.  Didn’t I know what a risk it was to marry at this late date?

Then I thought, “What if I had not married him, had not taken the risk?”   I would have missed the brief life and love we shared.  I would have missed his kisses, his warm embrace, and a hand holding mine.  That joy, however brief, far transcends the searing pain, the irretrievable loss and the ever present sorrow.

Yes, everything in life involves risks.  Life would be boring, dull, and tiresome, if we didn’t take risks.  Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

There are different kinds of risks.  For example, becoming a Christ Follower, a Christian, carries incredible risks.

In America and around the world the price of being a real Christian is rising.  I am appalled by the dishonesty, anger, hatred, and strife, which permeate our atmosphere today

2 Timothy 3:12 tells us, “All who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.”   These words make more and more sense every day.

In the early church, to become a Christian was to risk your life.  Every Christian knew that sooner or later he might have to defend his faith at the cost of his life.  Scripture is filled with risk takers.

Queen Esther said, “If I perish, I perish.”  Shadrach and his comrades refused to bow down, and the Apostle Paul said, “I do not count my life of any value…if only I may finish my course.”

No one better appreciated the risks of obeying God than Jesus Himself, who came, “…to give His life a ransom for many.”

            No one can say for certain what kind of risks you will face as a Christian.  Some have lost family, friends, and even their life, but I must tell you—THE FINAL RISK IS GONE!

Romans 8:1, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus…”   

Romans 8:37 – 39, “…neither death nor life (or anything else) will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

John 11:25, “Whoever believes in me, though he may die, he shall live.”

No matter what we risk today, this is our promise for eternity.

The question is:  Will I, accept the risks?  Is what Jesus offers worth the price?

THINK ABOUT IT!

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!