WHAT'S YOUR HANDLE? preference, that is

Okay, if you don't read Boomama, you've got to start TODAY. Her post is about how people place their kitchen utensils in the dishwasher. I was having a very good week, a very good Tuesday actually until I read that blog.

It seems that some people place their eating and cooking utensils in the dishwasher handle-side up and some people place them handle-side down. Boomama noticed on a recent trip home that her mom and her aunt both put the utensils in handle-side down. She is concerned that she is deviating from the "family norm" of how to load a dishwasher.

Oh no, one more thing to worry about. On certain days I place some one way and some the other and on other days I place them all up and on other days I place them all down. I really have to wonder how I would place them if I was single. My reasoning says they get cleaner with the place where you put your mouth UP. However, the hubs is less than happy when he goes to unload the DW and sticks himself with the tines of a fork. So, I guess that sorta explains why I do it one way one day and the other way the next. Some days I actually care what he thinks.

Wonder how I will place them tomorrow. Oh well, I will think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day!

TUESDAY TESTIMONIALS! MONCHEZ CONTINUED

Go here to read the 1st installment of this story.

Quinn directed me where to go. We pulled up in front of an uninhabitable apartment building with all the windows broken out. It was a building used unquestionably for questionable activities. It was winter, the days were very short-- dusk was descending .....................

He went in to get some of his things or so he said. I don't know how long I sat there but it must have been close to 30 minutes. The dusk was really settling in. I have to admit that for a split second I was tempted to leave. But I couldn't. Rita had entrusted her nephew into my care. I was responsible for him now. With uncertain resolve I got out of the car to walk up to the building, go in, and retrieve him.

I got about halfway across the beaten down, brown winter grass when the door opened and out walked Quinn with another young man. Simultaneously, a middle-aged man leaned out of a second-story broken window, yelled at me and said, "He's not going with you so you might as well leave." In my bravest and strongest school-teacher voice I retorted, "Oh, yes, he is. I am not leaving without him." I couldn't believe that voice came from me.

Quinn and his friend paused at the sound of the man's words and then sauntered on across the yard. I thought at the time that this young friend in a hooded jacked was walking funny in his over-sized sagging pants. I would find out much later the reason for the odd gait. They walked over to the car and after a quick introduction, he asked me if his friend, Kris, could go with us. I acquiesced, even though I highly suspected they had been doing drugs and Kris seemed to be stoned.

The older man leaned out of the window again and yelled, "Here, you might need this." A knife landed a yard or so away from my feet. Thank God neither one of them picked it up.

When we got back to Rita's house, I asked Quinn if I could speak to Kris for a few minutes. We talked about his life for some time. He told me of some of his past gang activities--things really too bad to repeat--he voiced his doubts that God could or would ever forgive him for some of his horrendous actions. I assured him of God's faithful forgiving nature. God's power was able to reach beyond the effects of the drugs and touch this young man's heart.

I asked him if I could pray with him and for him. He was very receptive. I don't remember the exact words but the prayer went something like this. "Dear Heavenly Father, I thank you for the opportunity to talk to Kris," --at that point a weak and emotional voice interrupted me and said, "Monchez."

"Monchez? What do you mean?"

"My name is Monchez, he said."

I think I stopped mid-sentence and stammered something like, "Monchez, Oh, you are Monchez?" And through tears, "Oh, Monchez, I was just praying for you last night." I don't know how I made it through the rest of the prayer as the realization of God's amazing power suddenly permeated my thinking.

I suppose Monchez used an alias with me that evening because he was highly sought after by the police at that particular point in time. But it touched my heart deeply that he trusted me enough to tell me his real name. Trust is not something that comes easily with gang members. Although looking back at the situation now, I think it was coming before the throne of God that made him admit to his real identity. He could not honestly expect God to help him if he was going to come dishonestly before Him.

The next week Monchez was arrested by the police. There is a part of me that will always believe he wanted to get arrested. Of course, I will never know that for sure but I know from years of working in the projects that the street life is not easy.

I made several trips to the county jail to see him before he was carted off to prison at the ripe old age of 18 years. At one such meeting he said, "Woman, (he always called me woman) I thought you were crazy. Did you know I had a loaded sawed-off shot gun in my pants the day I got in the car with you?" --the reason for the odd walk--

I wish I could say that this story had a happy ending. I can't because I honestly don't know for sure what happened to Monchez. The last time I saw him was when I took a member of his family to see him at the first prison where he was incarcerated.

The point of the story--how faithful God was to answer a simple but heartfelt plea. I prayed one night for a young gang member I had never seen or heard of before. The next afternoon he was in my car saying a prayer. Every time I retell this story, I feel like I am fabricating. It still feels surreal to me. But God's power is not surreal and He wants to prove it to us every day that we live.

"Oh God, I love it when you take my breath away with answers to prayers such as this. But I also love it when you just keep answering my same old "day in and day out" prayers in such a faithful and trustworthy fashion. I do not take those answers to prayer lightly. I am consumed with gratitude."

I did use one real name in this story. Can you guess which one? Yes, Kris is the one because it is the alias name that Monchez used that evening. It was an alias then and used as real now. What irony!

BRIGHT PAPER PACKAGES WRAPPED UP IN STRING!

Bright paper packages must mean birthdays or favorite things or both--Seems like just yesterday that I posted last year's happy birthday message honoring my hubs and here another year is rolling around.

And here are a few of my favorite things about Larry Dale:

the way he always whistles

his tenacity to get a job done

his optimistic outlook

his love and loyalty

his friendliness

I have posted several pictures of him but I wanted to post 2 of my favorite pictures of him. One is when he was a little boy and the "attention" pose he is striking--

The other is just a few years ago when I told him to strike his "little boy attention" pose--They are the last two.

Happy birthday, Honey. I love you!

they must be felt with the heart

We atended a concert at our church tonight. Our small group friends, Dustin and Barb sang with a group call ed the STRICKLIN'S. It was a great evening of worship. The group was raising money for a trip to Slovakia this summer.

Referring back to the title of my blog, Everything else thrown in, this is an example of the richness He gives. At the close of the concert, during the last song, we all stood up. It was very informal and we were in the coffee house loft of our theatre at church. We were casually standing around singing. I link my arm through my husband's to finalize the last song with a arm in arm amen. My son walks over to me and offers his arm. I stand linked arm in arm in worship with two of the people I love most in the world. How can one be more rich than that?

When Helen Keller wrote this quote, "The best and most beautiful things in life cannot be seen or touched, they must be felt with the heart," she described exactly my feelings concerning tonight. Thank you Lord for those touches of richness that you add to our lives daily.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRECIOUS ASHTON!

Today is our 5th granddaughter's 9th birthday. Go here for my favorite post about her.

Ashton continues to bless my heart. Her talent for ballet is amazing and her work ethic is incredible.

I love you, Ashton, with all my heart. I know God is going to do great things through you.

aka Mimi

TUESDAY TESTIMONIALS! Monchez!

This is a story that happened to me about 15 years ago. The names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. You will understand more as the story unfolds. I write this story only to emphasize the fact that God answers prayer and sometimes in the most dramatic fashion.

Cast of characters:

Toby-one of my 5th grade students
Rodney--one of my 5th grade students
Monchez-Toby's teen-aged brother
Rita-Quinn's aunt, parent liason at my school and my friend
Quinn-her nephew from New Orleans
David--Quinn's friend and a former student from several years back
Kris-Quinn's friend from the crack house
Dan--Rita's husband and Quinn's uncle

Boy, it is really hard naming characters and these names are not very good--the story would be sooooooooooo much better if I could use the real names.

While teaching 5th grade several years ago in the projects in another city, two of my students were really acting up. Now this was not unusual for Toby and Rodney, but their antics on this day seemed to be worse than the norm, which was not norm for when I taught in the mid-60's I might add. Ever heard of antithesis or dichotomy??

Finally, I decided to take the guys out in the hall and see if I could find out what was really going down. They were good friends and lived in the same apartment complex so they were used to the other knowing all their business. Toby told me that his brother, Monchez (yes, I have changed the name but it was a name not unlike Monchez and one that I had never heard before--an important part of the story I think), was involved in a gang and that things were getting really hot and that he was afraid that Monchez was going to get killed. He started to cry. He was one of my toughest-acting kids so I figured it was probably true and not just some ploy to get out of the trouble he was in with me.

The ONLY thing I knew to do was to tell him that I would pray for Monchez. And as best as I can remember, that is exactly what I went home and did that evening. That really was my only recourse I thought. I wonder why our greatest resource seems like our only recourse at times? How can we get that mixed up?

At school the next day, our teacher-parent liason named Rita came up to me and said, "I don't know what to do. Quinn has been missing for over a week." Quinn was her teen-aged nephew from New Orleans who had been living with her family for a few months. I had met Quinn through my friendship with Rita. Her family, along with Quinn, had visited our church a few times. Quinn seemed to be mad at the world. He sat on the back row at church and seemingly dared people to come shake hands with him. But I did. And he would, very reluctantly, give me a cold-fish handshake and speak to me under his breath.

At that particular point in time, I was used to making home visits (we, as a school, implemented home visits in an attempt to create more parental involvement) in this crime-infested area of our city. Working in the projects was not easy but it was one of the most rewarding things I ever did in my life. And the kids, oh, how I loved those children.

When Rita told me that Quinn was missing, I told her that we would go looking for him that afternoon after school. She lived in the general area but not smack dab in the middle of the 2nd highest crime rate area of our city as so many of our students did. We figured that he was hanging out with gang members somewhere in that area. She had brought him from New Orleans to get him away from the gang members who lived in his area there.

We had no more than arrived in this depressing area, when from several blocks away, we spotted two older teen-aged boys walking towards us. We had taken my car so that Quinn would not be tempted to run away if and when he saw Rita's. Rita was slinking down in the seat so that Quinn would not see her so I told her that I would go get him. I got out of the car and started walking towards them. Of all things, he was with a kid that I had taught some years before and was now all grown up. Well, in body that is. The first week I had this kid, I knew something was terribly wrong and I went straight to his apartment one day right after school to find out what I could do to help him.

I learned that David had watched his father get shot when he was just a little tyke. His living arrangements on that particular day didn't seem to foretell of anything much better to come. Years before, someone had carved several letters into David's face. It was hard to tell because they hadn't healed well, but I don't think they spelled anything nice. He would end up in a straight jacket on the psychiatric floor of a hospital later on. I can't remember if it was the same year I taught him or not. His demeanor was quite menacing at 18 years of age.

David had on a pair of bright-colored fuzzy gloves. I won't say the color because it would give away the particular gang name. I think deep-down he had respected me as a teacher, but he was acting in his same old tough manner.

I walked up to Quinn and told him that his aunt was worried sick about him and that I had come to get him and take him home. Believe it or not, he compliantly walked with me to the car a block or so away. David, (I want to write his real name so badly) seemed to disapear into the background.

I told him to get in the car and he presented no argument, did what I said and we drove back to Rita' house. When we got there, I asked her if I could talk to him for a few minutes so she left and went into the house. I explained to Quinn that God had a wonderful plan for his life, loved him, and had sent His Son to die on the cross for him. We talked and prayed together and I felt like it was a very productive time.

About this time, he asked me if I could take him back to the old neighborhood to get some of his things. His uncle walked out of the house right then and I told him I would if it was okay with Dan, Rita's husband. Dan said it was okay so we left to go get his things.

He directed me where to go. We pulled up in front of an uninhabitable apartment building with all the windows broken out. It was a building used unquestionably for questionable activities. It was winter, the days were very short-- dusk was descending .....................

..............to be continued next Tuesday

THE MOST HAUNTING OF VERSES!

I don't know why but everytime I read Psalm 137, I get the most haunting of feelings and I start to cry. I think deep down in the core of my being, it brings back memories of times when the captor has carried me away and my sorrow is deep and regretful. When the verses speak about Jerusalem, that is a reference to where our salvation lies, I think. I have not deeply studied this from a scholarly standpoint, only asked of the Holy Spirit that He teach me what He wants me to know from the passage.

Today, after the tears, I was reminded of another passage in the old testament where God promises His people that He will give them back the years the locusts have eaten. I know that when we are sincerely sorry for our failures that God can and will redeem those days, weeks, months or years when the captor has deceived us. I think redeem means to buy them back and that is exactly what He did through the death of Jesus on the cross.

Ps 137:1-6
By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. 2 There on the poplars we hung our harps, 3 for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"
4 How can we sing the songs of the LORD while in a foreign land? 5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget [its skill]. 6 May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.
Joel 2:25-27
25'I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten — the great locust and the young locust, the other locusts and the locust swarm— my great army that I sent among you. 26 You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the LORD your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed. 27 Then you will know that I am in Israel, that I am the LORD your God, and that there is no other.

If today is a day of haunting remembrances for you, I pray that you will prayerfully read this scripture and then take heart that God is on your side, He is not against you, He is for you!

God says that when we repent of our sins, he casts them into the sea of forgetfulness and as far as the east is from the west. So, it is not His will that we keep going back and feeling guilty, however, the new testament says that 'the person who hath been forgiven much, loveth much.' I think for me at least, that I need to be reminded of what great things God has done for me, how much He has forgiven me for, and the depth of gratitude that I should continually exhibit towards Him. That is what this scripture does for me each month.

This scripture explains it a little better. Luke 7:47
47 Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven ; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

Look for a post soon about the alabaster jar. What a beautiful portrayal of gratitude and love is the picture of this woman at the feet of Jesus.

Lord, please accept my gratitude today.

Monday Bittersweet Memories!

Soon one of our neighbors as a neighbor will be a memory--dear, thoughtful Kim. You've never met a person with more of a lust for life than Kim. I never will forget how welcome she made us feel when we moved here three years ago. Tonight we had a "going-away party" for her and John, her husband. Our cul-de-sac will not be the same without her. We will miss you so much! She's only moving three miles away, though, so hopefully we will see them often.

The picture below is my neighbor, Cynthia, who hosted the party. It was the first time I had been over since she hung the piece that she commissioned me to do for her this spring. You can barely tell, but I put a striping of red around half of the outside edge. It is a perfect match for the red buffet that she found to go under it.

Click on any of the pictures below to get an "up close and personal" look.

Below is my hubs, Larry, our neighbor, Pam, and Suzanne, the sweet California sister of Kim. She had the most infectious laugh. I could sit and listen to her laugh for hours. And believe you me, we did a lot of laughing.

In this next picture is Kim, Betty, Cynthia and Paul. What a wonderful cul-de-sac of neighbors.

After the party, we walked down to Kim's house to see her Catalina Island room. Her mom was born and raised there and they still have the beautiful, old family home. A few years ago, Larry had business in Long Beach and we ended up staying on the Queen Mary. It is docked and is a hotel now. We had an afternoon to spare and ended up on Catalina Island--one of the most awesome and romantic days of our married life. If you've never been to Catalina and get the chance, it is the most quaint, romantic, beautiful place you could ever hope to go. Click here to read more about it.

These Calla lilies are growing out in front of Kim's house that is on the market. Aren't they an incredible color?

And here is the Catalina Island room. Kim took all of these pictures. Catalina Island and its scenic beauty makes anyone look like an incredible photographer--

And this is our zestful, fun-loving Kim's whimsical picture. But, don't let the beautiful, pedicured feet lying in the pool fool you. This girl is a workhorse and is involved with the Ronald McDonald house here in our area. She has touched the lives of numerous people. She is a giver if ever I knew one.

KICKING AT THE GOADS!

Acts 26:14
Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads . NIV

Recently, a good friend asked me for my opinion about the passage from Acts above. This was my response to her.

Ps 32:8-9
8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you. 9 Do not be like the horse or the mule,which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.

Many years ago I read this verse and the picture came to my mind of the differences between a horse who is easy to guide with a bit in his mouth and the horse with the same bit who chomps at it and rears his head right and left and the rider has to pull the reins harder and harder to get the horse to go the way he wants him to.

To me, the picture here is that God is the rider and we are the horses and the things that come into our lives are representeed by the bits. When we are compliant with the Master, he only has to barely move the rein against our neck (it is so easy that the feeling never even makes it to the mouth and the metal bit) and we turn and go the direction he wants us to go. The more we want our own way, the harder the Master has to JERK the reins to get us to turn in the direction He wants us to go.

Years ago, I TRIED to incorporate a compliant spirit with God into my daily life so that He wouldn't have to jerk so hard. I don't like to hurt. I have failed many, many times but my hearts desire is to accept with grace and trust all the things that come into my life KNOWING the Master will work all for my good and His glory.

The goads were used to move the oxen forward but too often they didn't want to go forward and ended up kicking against the goads only to their detriment, sometimes sustaining injury. My friend wanted to know if we needed to be concerned about where the "goads" were coming from--either from the Lord or from the evil one. When we sincerely ask God each day to draw us closer to Him, I don't think we need to worry about where the goads are coming from, only trusting that good or bad, God will ultimately use them to produce something beautiful in our lives. In that way, we don't use our valuable time and resources trying to figure something out that really doesn't matter anyway.

Madame Jean Guyon, a martyr in the 16th century, says in her book, Experiencing the Depths of Jesus Christ, that as we go deeper with God, we won't even notice the difference between the good and the bad that comes to us-- we will just trust Him so much and live to love Him and give Him glory. Wouldn't that be a wonderful state to get to?

I thought this was an interesting video if you've never watched anyone plowing before. I am not familiar with this many people being used to plow. I used to watch my grandfather plow his fields with mules and it was just him and the mule. These oxen seem to be compliant.

ASHTON AND NOELLE'S DANCE RECITAL!

Much to my dismay, I didn't get to attend but here are a couple of pictures from Ashton and Noelle's dance recital. Ashton had just been out of her broken foot cast for a few days when the recital took place. She was able to dance, however, with a few little limps. Build up those foot muscles, girlie, you will go on point soon, and a beautiful point at that.

MONDAY MEMORIES----STICKY PEACH JUICE!

When I was a small girl, most summers we would drive from Arkansas to Illinois to visit my aunt and uncle and their family. Along the way, we would always stop at a certain peach orchard and pick the peaches off the trees and eat them right then and there. Those are some of the "best tasting, sticky, juice running down my chin" memories of my life.

SUNDAY SING-ALONG!

To learn more about this amazing old hymn of the faith, go here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Old_Rugged_Cross

What a coincidence! When I clicked on the above link to check out wikipedia's information about The Old Rugged Cross, I read that it was first performed on June 7, 1913. Today is June 7th--the day I posted this. How cool is that?!

ASHTON AND NOELLE'S DANCE RECITAL!

I didn't get to attend because it was in another state but here are two of my granddaughters at their dance recital. Ashton had just gotten out of her cast due to a broken foot from jumping off a ledge.

PLEASE BE PATIENT AS I UPDATE MY BLOG!

The Steps of a Righteous Man Are Ordered By the Lord

This evening my husband and I were riding around after eating out at Genghis Grill -- really, really good if you haven't tried it and have one near you. I made the Thai Chicken tonight following their recipe suggestions. You mix your own food bowl and then they cook it for you. I made a few little changes, like adding shrimp and lots of cilantro to their suggestions.

Anyway, back to the original story. As we were riding around out in the country, we came upon a young tyke riding a toy John Deere tractor. There were a couple of houses nearby but he had a huge open field to drive in and was making good usuage of the acreage. Believe it or not, my grandfather's name was John Deere (unfortunately not THE JOHN DEERE) but he had a tractor and farmed. This little guy looked just like a little old man sitting up there driving away. He looked as though he really thought he was "doing something." He looked just like "Daddy John" as we called him.

My husband and I remembered a time when we took our family to Silver Dollar City. At that time there was a ride which included an old timey car (sorta like a Model-T and the real size) on a track that went up and down winding curves and hills. There was a concrete barrier that came up between the tires and kept the car on the track. However, the children driving thought they were really driving and keeping the car on the road.

As our 5 year old son fought so hard to keep the car on the track, my husband and I were laughing hysterically at how serious the look on his face was as he approached the next curve. Of course we were playing the game, acting all serious and telling him to get ready for the next big turn and once again unable to contain our laughter as he fought the steering wheel so hard, all the while thinking our lives depended upon his little 5 year old hands.

Thinking back on this I couldn't help but think of how it compares to us as Christians at times. We want to believe our steps are ordered by the Lord--we know the Bible says that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose (see references below), but sometimes we find ourselves fighting our day to day circumstances, forgetting to trust the God of the Universe who has a nice big barrier to keep us on course (if we let Him) and who had planned every day of our lives before we were ever born.

Rom 8:28-29
28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Ps 139:13-16 For you created my inmost being;you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;your works are wonderful,I know that full well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, 16 your eyes saw my unformed body.All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

My goal today is to trust Him more.

TUESDAY TIDBITS!

I think the following is the greatest paragraph ever written apart from the Bible. It is from Oswald Chambers.

"Behold, O my people, I will open your graves." When God wants to show you what human nature is like apart from Himself, He has to show it you in yourself. If the Spirit of God has given you a vision of what you are apart from the grace of God (and He only does it when His Spirit is at work), you know there is no criminal who is half so bad in actuality as you know yourself to be in possibility. My "grave" has been opened by God and "I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth no good thing." God's Spirit continually reveals what human nature is like apart from His grace.

MONDAY MEMORIES!

On the far horizon of my memory I recall a soft, cool hand upon my fevered brow. No human hand, before or since, has ever brought such comfort, such love, such compassion--the hand of my best friend--my mother.