Detours

Driving is not one of my passions.  Somehow, the Lord in His infinite wisdom has arranged my life, however, in a way that I have to, against my strongest desires, drive a lot.  At any rate, one of the reasons I don’t enjoy driving that much (I could write a whole series of posts about the things I don’t like about driving…hmm, sorry, I digress yet again) I was saying, one of the things I don’t like about driving is that I am disoriented by nature.  My internal GPS got damaged at birth, so unless I know the way like the palm of my hand, though I don’t know the palm of my hand that well either now that I think about it…anyway, unless I am super familiar with the way, I will get lost.

Therefore, I really exercise the “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5: 17) command when I drive, particularly in the event I should hit a road block or a detour.  Needless to say, I pray a lot during spring and summer. : )

For instance, a few days ago, I needed to go to my Mother in Law’s house,-a road that is super familiar to me.  As soon as I rolled onto her nice country road I see the bright orange lights flashing next to a “road closed” sign.  “You’re kidding me?” I wondered aloud.  “She said the road was open! What happened?”  I knew the road had been closed for a few days due to some this or that.  Obviously, I had not gone down that way since.  But the day before, she told me it was open again.  Well, it wasn’t.

I remembered my husband saying something about another way to go there that was easier than the usual long way around half the county, so I figured it was time to test it.  Well, I figured wrong.  I drove around and couldn’t find it so I ended up having to back up and go on the long way after all, which means this time it was extra long.

After much frustrated mumbling under my breath, I made it to her house and I did what I was supposed to do there for her, but, boy, was I exhausted.  

I guess it is kind of the same way sometimes in our Christian walk.  For one reason or another, we encounter detours and roadblocks that cause us to go around the long way in order to arrive at our destination.  Even though the way that is closed is the shortest, seemingly smoothest and most effective, it is not the prescribed one,-ask the Israelites, right?  I mean, they hit the longest detour in the history of the world.

The Israelites had moved about in the desert forty years until all the men who were of military age when they left Egypt had died, since they had not obeyed the LORD. For the LORD had sworn to them that they would not see the land that he had solemnly promised their fathers to give us, a land flowing with milk and honey. Joshua 5:6

Rather than going straight through, the LORD Our God made them wander around for 40 years due to their disobedience.  They were not ready for a straight through walk and a speedy arrival to the Promised Land.  They needed the extra time to think, to grow, to mature in their faith and to become a cohesive community which would withstand the test of time.  Their time going in circles in the dessert strengthened them as a people and as believers.  Without that time, the Israelites arriving to the Land of Milk and Honey would have been a sorry bunch of whiners and spoiled brats.  Instead, the Israelites who took Jericho led by their fearless leader Joshua did so in such a magnificent way because they faithfully trusted and obeyed the LORD.  

I know that my mission the morning that I hit the detour on my way to my Mother in Law doesn’t compare to conquering Jericho (all I had to do was feed her 15 year-old dog).  But it was an opportunity for me to meditate on the way of the Lord, which more often than not seems simply incomprehensible to me.  And a chance to praise Him for His plan is always perfect, even if it takes us around the long way home.  

Lord, Have Mercy On Us...

There is nothing more disorienting and troubling than waking up to tragedy. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet when I heard my husband Dan’s voice as if coming from a tunnel, “there was a mass shooting at a Batman show last night in Colorado,” he said. Of course I was able to make out his words only after he repeated them about 3 times for I was still two-thirds asleep.

“Dear Lord,” I half uttered, “…have mercy on us…” My head fell heavy back on the pillow after Dan left the room, and my thoughts immediately went to my nephews who were planning to attend the midnight showing last night. “Lord, have mercy…” I kept repeating over and over again in my head…

I could spend time trying to figure out the reasons that motivated this 24-year-old man to break an entry into that dark theater and open fire randomly on the innocent spectators who sat in their chairs, armed with popcorn, candy and drinks, hoping to enjoy a thrill that they never expected would hunt them, perhaps for the rest of their lives, and some to their graves last night. The exercise, however, would be futile for some things are never understood. So I won’t do that here, today. I am sure there will be plenty of people speculating and coming up with theories which won’t really explain anything in the end for who knows what’s hidden in the corners of a hardened heart, but the Lord Himself? I’d leave the theories to the “experts.”

Instead, I will rather plug into the source of power which never goes out and is always there to recharge our spirit and calm our storms. I turn to Him, who is forever seated on His throne regardless of what may be happening down here on this dark world. I turn my eyes from the screen and into Him, for I “know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8: 28)

There will always be senseless violence and innocent people will fall victims of actions driven by evil. But we are not to lose heart. He has overcome the world and so will we.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. (Psalm 46: 1)

Though I’m afraid, I do not let fear overpower me, for

The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27: 1)

Though I’m shaken, I am not destroyed. Though I have paused, I will not be paralyzed. I will look at my Heavenly Father and I will resume my walk because He promised:

“…do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41: 10)

I don’t lose hope,

The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.
Taste and see that the LORD is good;
blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.
Fear the LORD, you his saints,
for those who fear him lack nothing. 
(Psalm 34: 7-9)

Join me in praying for the people of Aurora, CO today. Let’s lift them up to our Merciful God that He may receive the victims in His loving arms and that He may comfort the survivors, the families and the people of this nation.

Lord, have mercy on us…Come, Lord Jesus, come…

Faith Like Tomatoes or is it Tomatos? ; )

I'm not very fond of rain.  I don't like rainy days nor I find inspiration in cloudy skies.  On the contrary, rain usually has a negative impact on me.  Like yesterday, for the first time this summer I got to take my boys to the nearby swimming pool and yes, you guessed it...no you didn't!  It didn't rain.  It was just the threat of rain.  There were a few rolling thunders heard in the distance and the dutiful lifeguards proceeded to close shop. I couldn't believe it!  But I guess it is better to be safe than sorry.


We obeyed and got out of the pool and after a short visit to our friend's house, we went home.  As it happened, rain didn't come for many hours later, almost on time to go to bed; but there I was, with the memory of a delightful day interrupted by the threat of rain. (ugh)


This morning I stepped outside to see my tomato plant. I have to make a statement here.  This year, for the very first time EVAH, I planted something with my very own glove-covered hands! I armed myself with the tools of the trade and I have been growing a tomato plant since early summer.  I am very protective of it!  It is like my little friend.  I even talk to it...only because I know that the CO2 from my breath helps it grow...not because I'm lonely or something else strange...she is not my imaginary friend...I'm fine! I am!


At any rate, yesterday, after our unnecessarily shortened pool day, I saw that my plant was looking very VERY sad.  I was very worried about it.  It looked like it would never recover from the damaged the heat had caused to it. So I immediately showered it profusely, but to my dismay, the plant didn't seem to be coming back as quickly as I'd like it to do.  I worried some more.


This morning, however, after last night's rain, the ground was still looking moist and when I approached my tomato friend, I saw, to my delight, that it seemed much revived.  It still had drops of water on the budding tomatoes and that made me smile.  


I know that rain serves a purpose.  Without it life doesn't flourish and we cease to thrive.  But I resist it because it brings me down.  Cloudy skies just do something to my soul.  However, looking how much better my tomato plant does when it receives the rain, made me accept the truth in my heart.  Rain is a gift from God and nothing really can replace it.  Nothing really works as well as rain.  We can artificially water, but nothing is better than actual rain from above.  And now I finally see it.


So who cares if my little pool day didn't work as planned or didn't last as long as I would have liked it to.  For my tomato plant's sake, I do appreciate the rain : )


He will come down like rain upon the mown grass, As showers that water the earth. Psalm 72: 6

Unexpected

It is funny how the unexpected always catches you by surprise.  It sounds like an oxymoron statement, I know.  Perhaps it is.  But when I look at my life, I realize, no matter how much I know in my head that I should not be surprised by unexpected events since they are just to be expected; my heart always skips a beat every time I'm hit with a surprise.  

Take yesterday morning, for example.  (Here, I must give you a warning since some of the discussion to follow my be disturbing to some, particularly those who have dentist-related-phobias.  Proceed at your own risk : ) I went to the dentist to have a filling replaced.  

I have been experiencing pain on that particular tooth for a while, so after several, previous dentist visits,  X-Rays and exams, my dentist said that maybe we should try just replacing the filling because the type I had on that tooth seems to cause problems sometimes.  So there I was, reclining on a comfortable position, totally relaxed at one of the most enjoyable places on earth...no wait, what am I talking about? Yes, the dentist chair...one of the most terrifying places on earth!  At least I do have to say that my dentist is the most gentle soul I've ever met.  He even hides the syringe behind his back so I don't faint at its sight.  He cares so much about my comfort that it is hard to despise the guy.   But, I digress again...there I was.  

My gentle dentist began to drill into my tooth as I tried to go to my happy place in my mind.  He drilled, and drilled, and drilled...I began to worry because he kept drilling so deep I thought he'd puncture my brain!  He would take breaks, have me rinse and go back at it again.  Suddenly I saw a newly discovered ferocity in my otherwise gentle dentist's eyes that made me grow alarmed.  Finally, he finished.  He took and X-Ray of my perforated tooth, a new procedure I'd never had before when just going in for a filling.  I held my breath and waited for him to come back.  

He returned and then proceeded to insert these funny looking wire-thingies in my hollowed tooth...what the heck? I thought, but since I was at a communicative impaired state at that moment, I had to hold all questions until the end.  He did performed some more unidentified procedures in my tooth and took yet another X-Ray.  He left again and there I waited.  

I usually don't  inspect my mouth while at the dentist because the thought of it alone freaks me out, but this time curiosity overpowered my fear.  I slowly and carefully moved my semi-numbed tongue toward the tooth in question and made a shocking discovery.  I had two wires sticking out of my now newly re-filled tooth!!!  I know I should have just left it alone.  I was freaking out!  The dentist's assistant came in the room and began talking to me about an experience she'd had similar to mine, blah, blah, blah...I couldn't concentrate on her words.  I had two wires sticking out of my tooth!  She said something about root canal...so I began to try to re-construct her talk in my severely disturbed brain:  she said her situation was similar+root canal= what?  I managed to say, "so, am I going to need a root canal?"  to which she cheerfully replied:  "you already got one, darling!"

Surprise!

Well, the rest is all a blur.  All that is left for me to do now is to wait for the bill in the mail.

At any rate, my point is...what was I talking about?  O yes!  I was saying that life is a string of constant unexpected events that sometimes throw us off our path and cause us to tremble, so we better get use to them, though it is a mighty hard task to accomplish.  

The important thing to remember, when life surprises us with the unexpected, is that He is in control.  It is not a surprise to Him.  He knows that it is going to happen.  He doesn't see it as unexpected.  And we can take refuge in Him who calms all storms, big and small.

He is the rock, his works are perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is he.

Deuteronomy 32:4

My gentle dentist didn't warn me of what was coming since he wasn't expecting to have to do a root canal on that tooth either.  He fixed the problem, though.  I have no pain.  I'm not even sore after all the relentless manipulation I went through.  In retrospect, a root canal is not the big bad boy it has been made out to be.  I don't want to have another one done any time soon, but even though it was hard to swallow (pun intended ; ) I survived it.  And now that I think about it, I might even say that it being unexpected took the edge of it a bit.  If I had known I was getting one that day, I would have been fretting for weeks ahead. This way, it was done without me even knowing it was happening.  I guess unexpected surprises have their advantage too.

Feeling rejected, not good enough…do your part and let God do the rest.

Dealing with the feeling that you are not good enough is never an easy task.  Today I had to deal with the disappointment of being told I didn’t make the cut.  As part of my job, I need to submit papers for conferences and publications.  The field is very competitive and today I received notification that a proposal I have submitted a few months ago was rejected. 

It’s not like I was dying to attend that conference, though the prestige of participation would have certainly looked good in my CV.  What I found hard to digest was the inevitable sense of failure hidden deeply inside.  I began to think, then, that those nagging feelings of inadequacy seem to be popping up more often that I would like. 

That is not the way of the Lord.  He wants us to enjoy fulfillment not just in eternity, but also in our lives here on earth.  That is why He tells us, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”  (John 10: 10)  It is the enemy, that “thief” that comes in the night to “seal and kill and destroy” the one who invades our emotions and taunts us with failure.  God, on the other hand, is the Giver of Life, and He gives it in abundance. 

I can’t fall in the traps the enemy lays out in my path.  Instead, I must recognize them, realize they are indeed traps, and proceed to grab a tighter hold of my Lord and his promises, for He says:

Take delight in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the Lord;
    trust in him and he will do this:
He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun. (Psalm 37: 4-6)

Who cares about that conference, anyway?  As it happens, I have been accepted to a better one, so I count it all as gain.  Yes, I will be rejected many times in the future, as I have been in the past.  I will get less than glowing evaluations and I will get negative critique to my work; but rather than allowing such experiences to bring me down, I must receive them as the fertilizer that will make me grow.  I will continue to do my part and let the Lord be Lord over all my work and all my efforts, for His glory and honor.

A Lazy Saturday with "The Boss"

I don’t know what moved us to play some old Bruce Springsteen songs this lazy Saturday morning; but we did.  The guy’s got wacky thoughts and messed up political ideas, but I can’t deny I do enjoy his music.  It is tough-guy-poetry wrapped around catchy tunes.  People from old steel town, now turned rust belt America, fully understand and identify with what he talks about in his songs. 

Man, sometimes I toy with the idea that I might’ve been born in the wrong place for I sure understand and identify with it too.  I get the love-hate relationship with the town that keeps you trapped like a dog inside an invisible fence which shocks you every time you try to run away.  You love it and you hate it because it runs through your veins and you can’t escape.  This is where your sweat and tears drip down your face.  This is where you do your living and hope not to do your dying.  The twinkling lights at Christmas remind you of an age-old promise that turns it into a blessing.  The baskets hanging on the street lamps make it smell like home; and the rows of American flags in Main Street remind you that you are actually one of the braves, who lives in the land that is still free.  Though you reject the thought, this is where the Lord put you and you know it in your gut..it’s  not yet time to go.

Yes, I get it.  Even though I wasn’t born nor raised in the United States, in the figurative sense, I grew up here.  I became of age in small town America and I certainly consider it my own.  It was here that I met my Jesus.  It was here that He gave me life.  It is here that He fills me with hope.  And even though I’m not there yet, here on earth He has made this my home.  For as long as I continue to be here it is for me to seek Him first as I wait for Him and His Kingdom to come.

Philippians 3:20-21 But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.

1969 Chevrolet Impala

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38-39

“I’m going to make you a book, Mama,” Dylan said to me last night and with great resolve he turned around and went inside the house to fulfill his mission.  I sat outside reading my book for a while longer, enjoying the gorgeous summer evening.  Evenings like that bring back sweet memories of my care-free summer days back in Panama when I was a little girl.  But it was time to come in the house for the mosquitoes were on attack mode already (another thing that reminded me of Panama). 

When I came in the house, Dylan walked to me with his “book” in his hands.  It was finished. It only needed stapled.  I took the bundle of folded papers from his hands and started to admire his work.  It was all a 6-year-old work of art should be.  I loved it all! But what stuck with me the most was the picture I saw as soon as I turned the first page.  It was a picture of a car with three passengers, Dylan and Grant on the back seat and Mama driving (he even drew me wearing my seatbelt!) 

The picture stuck with me.  It deeply touched me.  The three of us spend a great deal of time in the car.  It is in that old silver Honda Civic that many of our most intriguing, unexpected, irritating, joyful, profound and revealing moments happen on an almost daily basis.  My young son had captured a familiar scene in our everyday life which may impact his memory for many years to come; perhaps even for a lifetime…just like it did me.

One of the clearest memories of my childhood that I can conjure at will is the memory of riding in my Dad’s hunter green, 1969 Chevrolet Impala.  Don’t ask me how I remember the car’s year and make.  The fact that I do is a testimony to how imprinted in my memory the moments shared in that car still are.  I was just a very young girl when my Dad got it.  It was a formative moment for me, however, because it was the car he got when I first began to have real awareness of my surroundings.  It’s the first car, of all he’s had in his long life that I ever remember.  He got it in 1972 prompted by my brother who was a senior that year.  I still remember my Dad half-complaining about falling for my brother’s relentless quest to make him buy the car.  The thing was huge!  It’s the biggest car I ever saw! It barely fit in our carport.  I remember the 6-tail-lighted rear sticking out from under the roof.

There were so many wrong things with that car that it quickly became a money pit, and a constant source of complaints and arguments at home.  It would suddenly stall without warning.  The air conditioning never worked right. It consumed indecent amounts of gas.  It had an assortment of leaks of various fluids.  There was always some kind of warning light coming off and on.  Something was wrong with the brakes and sometimes it just wouldn’t start.  My Dad had a spare battery and a tool chest in the trunk, just in case.  Regardless of all its flaws, I know my Dad loved that car.  It was big.  It was comfortable.  It was smooth.  It was impressive.  It was his mobile castle.  My Mom never drove, so it was his baby.

He loved taking his family for a ride in it.  And that’s why I remember it so well.  I spent my childhood riding on that ship on wheels.  I can still feel the green leathery material of the back seat, and the sound it made every time I moved.  I could lay flat on that seat.  Often we would take long rides to Panama city and other distant places (4-5 hour-long trips tops) leaving early at dawn, so I’d lay on the green surface and watch the stars disappear and the sunrise come up all through the long windows of the Impala.

Many years went by and finally my Dad had to let go of his dear green dream-car.  It was a sad day.  We never had a big car again.  We never had an American-made car again either.  The era of the highly efficient, not-so-comfortable, nothing-special-about-it Nissan had come to stay in my Dad’s household.  Gone were the days when I could stretch out on the back seat.  No more dreams of green.  My childhood had also disappeared. 

I don’t know what kind of memories I am building with my boys as they constantly ride with me on the back of my beat up Honda Civic.  I know they are not nearly as comfortable as I was riding on the back of that big, old Impala.  I know it is not nearly as luxurious and impeccable as my Dad’s car was.  My car is an embarrassing mess.  It might not even be as leisurely and care-free as my experience was.  But I sure hope they are good memories that would last them a life time and that would make a positive impact in their lives.  I hope they can look back at these years when they are older and remember them with the same bittersweet nostalgia that I experience today as I remember the old days riding around in my Dad’s green, 1969 Chevrolet Impala.

Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them. (Deuteronomy 4: 9)