KeziahCarrie

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Guatemalan Getaway

July 31, 2016

Heavy black exhaust fumes are unwelcome visitors barging in bus windows we have quickly opened to escape the heat. We are two hours from the Guatemala City airport and there’s no quick way out of here. Getway 6

Not now.

We are officially committed on a nine-day course.

Our tag team of new age missionaries has set out to make monetary modifications; while our first visual encounters threaten to submerge us in a sea of hopelessness. Poverty has clearly permeated every community in this war-torn country. So, in self-defense, we make jokes about the “chicken bus,” the obnoxious horns, and the extra-large Taco Bell.

Getaway 2

Still, it’s hard to ignore the little tin huts and greasy auto repair shops that are all around us as we head deeper into the abyss. The obnoxiously rude blaring bus horns continue to assault the senses and the smell of blackened filth seems to sit all around us.

Just as the sun is setting low over our arrival in this third world country, we pull into the place that will be our refuge. There is barely enough light to see and a hot shower is considered a luxury. Even when we have hot water, it is so contaminated we are warned not to get it in our eyes or mouth.

The temperature has dropped to a brisk 54 degrees with a noticeably cooler breeze blowing. The rain started, but quickly stopped, and everything feels just a little damp. It might dry out in the heat of tomorrow, but more than likely another little cloud will drift in again.

Yet, we feel incredibly blessed.

We were expecting much worse conditions.

Our guard goes down and we settle in.

Morning comes with hot pancakes and coffee.

Our arrival is anticipated in the Guatemalan village of Getaway 31 Patzicia where their reactions, and ours, are mixed with apprehension, anticipation, and excitement. It’s a pleasant place with happy home visits, a few minutes at the market, and a spontaneous soccer match.

We are good to go on.

Bland refried black beans for the next breakfast, with grainy unseasoned corn tortillas, signal that the trip is about to change. Our initial introduction into this mission is finally morphing into the real reason we are here. Happy home visits segue into an introduction to small hidden huts not fit for human habitation.

Getaway 30 They are homes for families with five or ten children. The despair runs deep. The necessities for their existence are lacking at every level. Our hearts sink. Our emotions steel. We take inventory of what we have to give and we get to work.

Prayer is priority as our God sees and He knows and He is able. We dole out compassion, understanding, encouragement, and love. Getaway 29 We offer up hugs, and smiles, as laughter seeps through the cracks and out into the courtyards.

God is in this place.

And, he has more for us to see. Getaway 33

Up on a remote mountain, where we experience a million miracles just riding safely in that chicken bus, we see and smell a society so far removed from our own that we are stunned!
Children, under the age of five, are dying here in San Antonio Nejapa on days when the smoke inhalation is more than their Getaway 12 little lungs can filter and fight.

We are anxious to help solve this unnecessary situation and we set about installing new
stoves. Getaway 13

The inventors of this quickly assembled contraption should be honored at the city gates, as they have been given the great gift of God’s wisdom.

Getaway 15

We are humbled.

Truly humbled to help.

Our iPhones are pulled out of pockets and backpacks for the sole purpose of taking pictures so this moment of meeting on God’s terms is recorded outside of our hearts for others to see.

Getaway 17 We have to share their story. We have to tell about the stoves.

They are not expensive. In fact, their affordability is astonishing. Who among us would not give $110 to save the life of a child?

Getaway 16

Time is running out.

It’s not the setting of the sun, but thick white clouds coming down on the mountain that send us back to our weeklong refuge.

The revelation of all that we own will be a bit more relevant tonight. We gather together around a fire to sing praise songs, share stories, and make plans with a new purpose.

It doesn’t have to be us. It can be anybody. It can be you. There are volunteers trained in the art of stove assembly. They just need people who are willing to pay for the life of a child.

We walk reluctantly back to our rooms.

There is still barely enough light to see.

We know that a hot shower is a luxury they have never had.

Getaway 19

“Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD,

and he will reward them for what they have done.”
— Proverbs 19:17

http://www.compassion.com

Category:

Christianity, Enlightenment, Hope, Obedience, Truth

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As I Walk through the Valley on Shadow

October 3, 2015

There’s a line between wisdom and insanity that gets blurred, every time anyone willingly comes into contact with Shadow. He’s a kind, loving and obedient boy, but make a move he’s not expecting, and he’ll
snort, bolt and run. He’s the ultimate contradiction. A “kid broke” horse that kids can’t ride.

We love him. He’s beautiful. He’s a gentle herd leader. And he is truly something to see when he reaches top speed running across the pasture. But trust him? Not a chance! He doesn’t just spook, he spooks at the same things sometimes, not at all other times. When you expect him to spook, he doesn’t; and when you don’t expect it, he does. You can never be sure.

Shadow supposedly had lots of training before we bought him, and we were told he had worked at a kid’s camp for years. So, given that we were looking for a “kid broke” horse and he was ebony black and beautiful, we bought him. Paid money. From our perspective, quite a bit of money (relative to the budget) and we confidently brought him home to join our other (free) horses. They’re the ones that haven’t had much training, but can likely walk through a war zone with only a slight tremble or twitch. Shadow will run from his own lead rope.

It’s fear, plain and simple. We’re not sure why or what his history might be. He is a registered Tennessee Walker, with a long lineage of family champions, and there’s a strange little quirk about him when he sort of bounces up high before he trots; but what his early life must have been like before us is an unknown. What we do know is he is very afraid…not always… and not on any recognizable timetable… as best we can tell. It’s more like the movie, Groundhog Day. What he learns not to fear today, he will freak out over tomorrow.

And, this is why I now think we may all be just like him.

In an attempt to get Shadow some help from someone other than myself; I was making a video to submit to a master horse trainer, showing Shadow’s sporadic spooky behavior. As I was explaining how Shadow can be desensitized to scary objects one day, but is afraid of the same objects another day, the realization of what I was saying was not at all something I wanted to see in myself. But, unfortunately I think it’s true.

I get afraid. God calms my fears. I realize there was no reason to be afraid. And, then, confronted with the same things that scared me before, I’m afraid again. This is an agonizing epiphany. We worry about Shadow. We stress over Shadow. We don’t understand Shadow. We make fun of Shadow. And, yet, he’s a walking, talking testimony of what we need to work on in our own lives.

Let’s take money and bills for example, because that’s one of “my things” that causes me great fear. I’m afraid of a bill we can’t pay. God provides, as he tells us over and over in His Word that he will. The bill gets paid. I’m no longer afraid.
Then another bill comes. I look at our account and there’s not enough money to pay it. But, it comes due and somehow (thank you, God) it gets paid. I’m no longer afraid. Until…

Maybe it’s not money for you. Maybe you’re afraid of your mother-in-law…maybe it’s your boss…you’re afraid your husband is going to cheat on you even though he never has and never will…maybe you’re afraid to fly even though you’ve always landed safely. Yet, that SAME fear keeps coming back again and again. Shadow is a shining example of what happens. He’s supposed to be a “kid broke” horse and yet he can’t live out the life that was intended for him, because fear (False Evidence Appearing Real) has rendered him incapable.

You may have heard this before, but fear is the topic most often addressed in the Bible. Our fear is no surprise to God. He knew this was going to happen. He prepared all these many verses for us. Right now, I’m thinking, “If Shadow could only read,” but the fact is, I can read, and I have read the verses and it would probably help me to go read them again.

There is always going to be a bill coming due. And, until I learn not to be afraid the next time, God is going to have to desensitize me to it this time. He often turns up the heat until we can handle the pressure. Remember the Israelites 40 year journey around an eleven-mile mountain? God wants to get us where he wants us to go, more than we want to get where we want to go. But, we have to be willing to give up our unhealthy relationship with fear. Fear is an enemy intended to keep us from fulfilling our intended purpose.

We’re still trying to teach Shadow, but maybe now it’s just time to stop for a minute and learn from him. We can bolt and run, or we can hide under the shelter of God’s wings, and in doing so, be reminded that First John 4:18 says there is no fear in love because perfect love casts out fear.

After all, a shadow is just an obstruction from THE LIGHT!

Who knew more about fear than David the shepherd boy?

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:

for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever!

Psalm 23

Learning to turn away from the crooked road of fear

will lead us straight to the gateway of freedom.

Shadow and the tarp

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Entertainment, Faith, Inspirational, Spiritual, Truth

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Trust me Moses!

July 9, 2015

Sometimes, trust is the only thing that stands between us, and the life we were meant to live. Or a stubborn streak keeps us from seeing what God has for us. Even worse, rebellion blocks our view, when what is waiting for us is not only what we need, but what we want.

We just fought our way through three days in a desert of distrust…Moses and me…my dad…the owners of Sycamore Valley Ranch, a couple of friends, a new vet, a vet tech, a fellow boarder and then there were the well-wishers and YouTube trainers…and count on it, this “horse tale” will preach!

It all started with an opportunity to move our horses closer to home. The decision to leave an amazing ranch was difficult enough, without Moses making the most of every opportunity to stay. But, divine encounters, are often unexpected…and interruptions, in our normal routines, almost always tell us more about ourselves than our momentary circumstances ever could.

Moses has never had trailer trouble, as far as we know. When we went to get our foster horse, on a cold and rainy day in March, he was ready for a ride. So it never even occurred to us what we were going to encounter, or how his resistance would cause us to question the bigger message in the mess. Much like his namesake, our Moses did not react the same way twice.

In Exodus 17, God told the original Moses to “strike” a rock in order to get water. And, he did. But, flip over to Numbers 20 when God tells Moses to “speak” to the rock and, we find out, he didn’t. His willful disobedience was one of the worst things that could have happened to him. Continue into the book of Deuteronomy and we discover that Moses got to see The Promised Land, but he never got to put his foot in it. Forty years in the desert and a lack of trust, stubbornness, or all out rebellion kept his feet firmly planted in the wilderness.

And that brings us back to our Moses. His feet were planted right outside the horse trailer where I threatened many times to leave him. He had watched his brother, Gideon, get on the trailer and head for home. Shadow, Star and Judah all jumped right on. But, Moses, well, he was having none of it. If you’re a horse person, I can almost hear you saying, “I’ve never seen a horse I couldn’t load onto a trailer.” We had those same discussions. Pressure/release, endless lunging, Join Up, small trailer, large trailer, withholding and reward, making the wrong thing hard, the right thing easy, and I could keep going. It didn’t work with Moses. His mind was made up. Despite visual signs of depression, due to being separated from his herd, he wouldn’t go.

I don’t doubt there might have been some fear associated with the situation. My Dad jokes that Moses saw the others leave on the trailer and not come back, so he wasn’t about to get on and go. But, what I saw was an obstinate, determined, rebellious, willful, disobedient horse that is normally gentle, well-mannered, and the first to meet you in the pasture. So, why would this happen? We all asked ourselves that more than once during the time it took to bring this bad boy back around to our way of thinking.

And, yes, we prayed. We rebuked. We laid hands on his self-inflicted injuries. Rebellion can be very painful. In the end, God answered our prayers. Moses didn’t have a change of heart and hop on the trailer, like we all hoped. But, God did send a compassionate, caring, veterinarian to help us and to help Moses. How do we know God sent him? Well, maybe it’s because he just happened to be coming to see another horse at the exact time we ran out of strength, energy and determination. The Doc offered to give Moses a small injection of sleepy meds, like they often use to load race horses, but even then, it still took six of us to hoist Moses’ 835-pound body up into the trailer.

The medication wore off quickly. Moses enjoyed a little “Scooby Snack” on his way home and, when he stepped off the trailer 35 minutes later… there was his family… his herd…running to meet him.

So many times, during the stress, the frustration, the 90-degree heat, the “what are we going to do next” mode, we kept trying to tell him, “Moses, if you only knew what was waiting for you, you would go.”

And, that’s where I think we are most of the time. We’re afraid to trust, so we just go with stubborn. We put our feet down and refuse to budge when God is trying to lead us. But, willful disobedience and rebellion have to be dealt with if we really want the best that God has for us. It’s so easy to plant our feet in a comfort zone, or fear what is out of sight, when, what is up ahead is so much better than anything we could ever obtain on our own. I suspect God also says to us, “If you only knew what was waiting for you, you would go.”

I’ve heard two messages on endurance since all this happened and one message on how I need to trust. So, trust me, Moses, I’m wide-awake and listening!

Is there some area of your life you are refusing to surrender?

Do you feel afraid, stubborn or rebellious?

It’s okay, God is amazingly patient.

But, the sooner you come around to his way of thinking, the better off you will be!!

Just trust Him.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,

but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. —Psalm 20:7

Trust in the lord and do good;

dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. —Psalm 37:3

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make your paths straight.” —Proverbs 3:5-6

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Entertainment, Home, Inspirational, Obedience, Truth, Understanding

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I did it His way

November 3, 2014

If not for the 25th chapter of the book of Psalm, the confrontation would have come as a complete shock. But that morning, as I busied myself with the routine of feeding, mucking and watering, the reminder to do my Bible study kept pressing on my mind. I finally set all the chores aside and submitted.

The words written on the tattered and torn pages were a warning to my heart and soul. And, so, instead of going forward ill prepared, I put on the full armor of God and waited for what was about to happen.

I almost laugh every time I think back on it because, somehow, I think we all thought it had something to do with us. And, maybe, at some point, it had. Maybe there were things said, and done, that had set the course in action. But, in the end, as in the beginning, it was a test and God was offering us a choice.

I am grateful for the compassion of the one who had to tell me I was losing my job. I am grateful for the honest words I was allowed to speak. I am most grateful for the peace that passed all understanding at a time I could have chosen a much different path. In the natural, my normal reaction might have been anger and resentment. It would not have been unlike me to say things I would later regret. But, in the presence of a Holy God, I did my best to remain silent and wait.

There were bouts of blame. I mainly blamed myself. And, even though I participated in parties of pondering…who, why, what, where and when…I was quickly reminded to go back to The Word. The next few weeks were spent about as close as I could get to the One who warned me, the One who already knew, the One who would know what to do next. There were days of grief, sorrow and repentance. There were times spent praying for those who made the decision. There were messages of hope, sent periodically, by those who knew I needed encouragement.

At every turn, I asked God to please tell me what to do before I hit the deadline to pack up and leave. In response, God made me wait even longer. He showed me that His plan had a purpose and that He was not bound by a date circled on the calendar. He brought me out…so He could bring me in. And this time, I trusted. I watched. And, I waited. There were so many things He could have done…so many things I thought He was going to do. But His way has brought more happiness than I had even imagined.

Every time I am placed in a position where I must trust, I find myself promising I always will. But each walk in the wilderness is different, and it is always the unknown that leaves us vulnerable to the accusing voice that says, “What if he leaves you this time? What if he abandons you now? What if you are left out there alone to fend for yourself? What if you look like a fool for your faith? If this is your fault, shouldn’t you be forced to face the blame and the shame?”

But I find that voice can always be silenced by going to God, by staying in The Word, by watching, by waiting, by also recognizing the voices of those who try to convince you to do it their way.

This time I did it HIS way and I have in fact received an amazing reward!

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him,

so that you may overflow with hope

by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13

If you are facing a time of uncertainty, a disappointment, an unexpected occurrence, or any change in your life that has left you afraid and confused, lift up your head.

He is the light. He sees, He knows, He has the answers.

Just wait. No matter how long He takes.

He may not be early, but He is never late!

God of mercy sweet love of mine

I have surrendered to Your design

May this offering stretch across the skies

And these Hallelujahs be multiplied

Written by: Bo and Bear Rinehart

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGF-MGGLpB0

God, I run into Your arms

Unashamed because of mercy

I’m overwhelmed, I’m overwhelmed by You

Music & Lyrics: Mike Weaver / Phil Wickham

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BiGb14tTaH4

Category:

Enlightenment, Faith, Happiness, Hope, Truth

“Hi, Friends!”

August 6, 2014

The first ride of the day often starts with a horse sneezing on the back of our bare legs. It’s usually followed by horse hooves kicking hot sand a couple of feet in the air to stick and stay right below the back of our knees. The grains of sand that aren’t picked up like little hitchhikers jump in the back of our boots. Sweat is already seeping into our socks to join the water sloshed in there that morning while we were filling eight individual buckets. We’re about to take a test ride around the arena to see if we dare leave the safety of the sand and the security of the fencing. And, it is now when the stress level slowly begins to creep its way up.

Children who sometimes boast of their riding skills realize they are still beginners. Those who have taken English lessons on a tight rein try to wrap their understanding around a Western trail horse that wants the freedom of its mouth. And while many kids ride for the very first time, thrilled with what is finally happening, others are in tears begging to be brought back down on solid ground.

There are four of us. Two directors. Two counselors. There are 16 of them. Eight kids. Eight horses. We usually have 20-30 minutes to get all the kids on a horse, get them going in the same direction, get them to listen to us (the kids and the horses) and override each and every opportunity our equine friends find for mischief. You know the old saying, “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink”? Well, it’s true! It’s also bankable information that you can take well-trained horses, put them in random riding situations every hour for five hours, and see them react in ways that will either throw your heart into overdrive or melt it in one memorable moment. Our emotions, if monitored during one ride, would look like an electrocardiogram right before a heart attack. The intensity can be indescribable, while the satisfaction at the end of a good ride can be quite soothing. But, what is constant in our world of unknown equestrian circumstances is a greeting we often receive, if and when, we venture out of the arena onto the open trails.

“Hi, friends!”

The young woman easily voted Counselor of the Year at our children’s farm day camp is so full of light that she helps all of us walk right out of the darkness. Just those two words, “Hi friends,” spoken in genuine kindness, sincere sweetness and a directness that makes you feel as if you are here among the best of friends…those two little words carry amazing power. We see her, we hear her, and we know her heart for the children, the horses and us; and, with those words, our fear washes away, our stress is released, and even our legs, still gripping grains of sand, feel strong and determined to walk the road ahead.

In a place where my words look for ways to join in the cacophony of complaints, Miranda chooses her words carefully. She is quick to listen and slow to speak, and like Proverbs 12:18 tells us, her wise words bring healing.

If asked about her life, I would have supposed she had an idyllic childhood. I would have further ventured to guess that she has been so much the center of someone’s attention, the art of making other people feel special, just came naturally to her. But what I’ve found out is that her life has not always been fairy tales and princesses. She’s had some struggles along the way…she rises above them. Instead of focusing on herself and “what could have been,” what “might have been,” or what “she may have missed,” she looks out ahead of herself for the next face she’s about to see.

During a recent late night dinner, a bunch of us were gathered around a table at a 24-Hour Steak and Shake. I was on the opposite end and wasn’t always privy to her conversations. The next day, I was told she engaged others in a way they had never experienced. Full on, eye-to-eye, completely engrossed in what they were saying and obviously, genuinely interested. Those who might have felt awkward, uncomfortable, or on the outside of the little group, were immediately put at ease, welcomed in, and not just made a part, but an important part of all that was happening.

In a world war-torn by angry and aggressive words, where what we want to say often outweighs what others might care to contribute, she honors others above herself.

It’s why we all wanted to spend time with her. It’s why the kids clung to her, crying, begging, and not wanting to leave even though it was time to board the buses.

Sumer camp is over

The horses are grazing gracefully in the pasture as if nothing ever happened.

And, Miranda’s life is about to change. She’s on her way to a big exciting city to pursue a graduate degree in social work. She’s confessed her fears and little bouts of anxiety. Still, she knows not to worry about tomorrow, for God has promised tomorrow will take care of itself.

Her wise words will bring healing in her new exciting city as they did at our dusty hot summer camp. Proverbs 13:2 tells us she will be blessed because of the words she chooses. Just those two words that wield such amazing power.

“Hi, friends!”

Category:

Happiness, Inspirational, Love, Truth, Women

Coffee Shop Community

May 18, 2014

The old man held court in the corner of the coffee shop. It seemed every other person, who came through the smudged glass door and braved the blinding rays of sunshine cast through the wall of windows, made their way to his table.

He smiled and greeted each one with, “It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?” His salutation seemed amusing, given the fact that it was freezing outside. The younger crowd could be heard mumbling throughout the room about the unexpected drop in temperature. It’s all in the perspective I guess. As I watched him entertain a young, long-haired coffee shop employee on a break, then take company with a frazzled sweat-clad, errand-running mom, talk to a dad with a young child, and congratulate a pregnant woman, I looked on in fascination and remembrance that–even in this fast-paced technology-driven world where I frequently communicate with my own husband, daughter and son, via text message– we are still in need of personal, face to face, one on one, affirming, loving and entertaining socialization. Years ago, this same older gentleman might have found a seat out on a park bench in the town square or down at the corner hardware store. But his well-placed position here in the coffee shop serves him well as he caters to the needs of a younger generation more desperate than they know for his words of wisdom.

We were created to live in community. No matter how much we feel Facebook connects us into an online world of communal living and no matter how we feel connected to our tribe through the 140 characters allowed on Twitter, we still need some real genuine, authentic, in person, huggable, loveable, face time.

The little girl hugged tightly to her daddy’s arm with the biggest, sweetest smile on her face. The older gentleman reminding her dad of the innocence and beauty he was charged with protecting. The frazzled mom in her peach sweat suit, took time to talk to the little girl eye-to-eye, attention full on, and was quickly rewarded with a big bear hug before the girl followed dad out the door. The older gentleman and the mom were beaming. And I wasn’t the only one watching. Several people stopped to watch it all; the hope, the promise, the expectation that all will be well with the world regardless of how it sometimes seems we are losing our societal grip. Sure, that little girl will probably open up a new iPad on the next Christmas morning or text her friends on her new iPhone; but today, she stopped to smile at the old man, to hug the frazzled mom, to cling tightly to the daddy who loves her more than anyone else.

The old man’s attention turned to another visitor who came straight to his table. This one was sporting a new engagement ring and anticipating a brand new life. He gushed right along with her. Then, one by one, each visitor went out the smudged glass door with their backs to the rays of sunshine. He reached for his coffee cup and, with a shaking hand, picked up his fork to finish off a piece of lemon cake. He’ll probably be back tomorrow. You could tell from the steady stream of visitors that he is here a lot, in his corner seat holding court, for anyone who has time to stop and talk.

Category:

Enlightenment, Happiness, Hope, Inspirational, Truth

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The “Who Can Do It” Way to a Happy Relationship

March 11, 2014

Come on, let’s laugh a little.

There’s a reason we draw lines in the sand.

It’s so we can smudge them out.

And draw them again.

As an at-home mom for the 16^th year, I still dream of that day when the house is SPOTLESS, the laundry is DONE and dinner is on the DINING ROOM table, not the coffee table in the den. But then dreams wouldn’t be dreams now, would they, if they were just our simple reality, right? So I keep dreaming.

However, what I never really dreamed about, growing up, as I pondered the forever husband who would come through the back door happily exclaiming, “Honey, I’m home,” was the possibility that it would be me coming through the back door yelling, “CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME WITH THIS STUFF???” Despite the fact that I no longer hold down what most people would consider a NORMAL job, I do work a lot. I work about four hours a day as a taxi cab driver, an occasional television producer, three or more hours a day as a horse trainer, groomer, feeder and poop scooper, at least an hour running endless errands, about an hour as a cook, an ironing board attendant, a wet clothes cleaner as opposed to the nicer — more expensive — dry cleaner, a freelance writer, a band mom, a dog feeder, dog waterer and a let-them-in-and-outer. I often wonder how many hours of my life I actually lose letting the dogs in…and out…in…and out…but I’m getting off track. Oh wait, I do that too on a regular basis and it’s work just getting back on track and figuring out where I was and what I was doing. So, you see, as this story goes, the little woman at home vacuuming the floors in heels and pearls was NEVER in my DNA. I love a clean house, clean clothes and dinner on the table; but, sometimes, if that is going to happen, it’s my husband doing it after he gets done at the office. YEP, you heard me. I have one of those crazy husbands, who not only supports every non-paying job I have, but helps pick up the slack so I can maintain all of them.

When my dad needs a ride to the doctor, my husband believes I’m the one who should be there. When I have a friend in need of moral support, my husband finds something else to do. If I take up the better part of a day doing back-to-back Bible studies, he tells me how glad he is that I do it so I can share what I’ve learned with him later.

Now, don’t shoot the messenger, because it’s not always, “Oh honey let me do that for you,” around here. Just this morning, as he headed for his car, he told me how NICE it would be if he had some CLEAN underwear for tomorrow. Just as he was backing out of the driveway, I grabbed a pair off the floor, swung them around, and told him ,“I am on it!” Salute! He called on his cell phone mere moments later, as he drove away, to remind me how he had joyfully folded my underclothes just the night before. But, wait a second; this is where the title of this story plays in. He folded laundry while he was watching a basketball game. Why? Because he could. It’s one of those little secrets of a happy relationship. I ironed his clothes and packed his lunch because, at the time, I was the one who could do it. He took our son to school and gave me the morning off because he could do it. I dropped off a business package downtown, because, hey I was already going that way. He stopped by the pasture and fed the horses because he could make a quick detour.

“Whoever can do it” should just be the way things work all over the world. It’s worked for us… well, except for all attempts I’ve made to draw a line in the sand when it comes to the shower. I think he should scrub it as many times as I’ve had to do it.

He just washes that idea right down the drain.

I Peter 4:11

Do you have the gift of speaking?

Then speak as though God himself were speaking through you.

Do you have the gift of helping others?

Do it with all the strength and energy that God supplies.

Then everything you do will bring glory to God through Jesus Christ.

All glory and power to him forever and ever!

Amen!

Category:

Enlightenment, Entertainment, Happiness, Home, Truth

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The Three Wise Men

December 15, 2013

The tumblers inside a tiny little padlock we use on the hitch of our horse trailer were stuck and it wouldn’t close. I was struggling in the dark trying to get it done and get home before bedtime. My son, my dad and I had returned from a trip later than we expected, had just unloaded the horses and turned them out into the pasture. As Dad took over, fiddling with the lock, I stepped back and busied myself with some of the other details. I wasn’t really aware of what all was happening until I heard him say, “If I had some WD-40 I could fix it.” My son and I glanced at each other, both of us knowing there was a can in the barn, but neither of us wanting to make the trip up the steep hill in the dark. So, rather than ask us to do that, my dad went about looking for the next best solution. I’ve watched him do it my entire life and now my 16-year-old son is witness to what happens when you can’t get the answer on-line.

Once Dad had driven his SUV over and turned on the headlights so he could see the lock and trailer in the dark, he popped open the hood. Then, with a little hand-held flashlight shining on the engine, he reached in and slowly removed the dipstick from the oil container. He carefully let a couple of drops ease into the lock and it snapped shut. As we got into our separate vehicles for the 45 minute drive to our homes, my son, a straight A Honors English and AP History student, looked at me and said, “Gramps is brilliant!” In a laugh that let him know I was in total agreement, I responded, “Yes, he is, but I bet that’s not the first time he has used that little trick to fix something.”

My Dad is one of those people who took a 12^th grade education and turned it into an ability to fix, build, design, and create just about anything he wants or needs. He even has the most amazing and precise handwriting. And, anytime he starts talking mathematical equations, measurements, or geometry-type stuff, I slowly slip away, hoping he won’t ask me if I know the answer. My college-educated brain just doesn’t work that way.

Likewise, my husband’s father took his high school education and not only ministered a church for 40 years, without a salary, but also built houses…entire houses. It wasn’t like he hired an architect and a contractor; he did it with sweat equity and his own two hands. All this he did after his regular job as a weigh master at the stockyards. Some of the men he worked with used to tease him about his volunteer labor at the church and nicknamed him “Preach.” But when anyone was in need, sick or dying, he was the one they sought after. Even at his funeral, a child of one of his co-workers credited him with leading his dad to the Lord.

The “Little Flock” he tended still talks of all they learned from him. And the many houses he built are all standing as shelter for families he never met but had a hand in protecting.

Three full-time jobs, one man, one wise and remarkable life.

My Papaw only got to go to the 3^rd grade. It’s unheard of these days, but back then, it wasn’t at all unusual for a child to be required to leave their opportunity to learn in order to care for family. He wasn’t very tall, mostly bald and wore bib overalls almost every day. A little like Jesus is described in the book of Isaiah, there was nothing about the way he looked that would necessarily attract anyone to him. Yet, he was a fascinating man. During two weeks every summer, at Christmas and any opportunity in between, I wanted to be his shadow…except, of course, when he got up before dark, in the freezing cold, to draw water from the well and get a fire started. Those times I was content just to lay under a heavy mountain of blankets and quilts listening as he moved about the house preparing it for the rest of us.

He grew the best garden for my mamaw, planted and worked a large tobacco crop; he worked at a lumber mill, for the railroad, and he used mules and slip scrapers to help build a highway. (Don’t ask, I have no idea what a slip scraper is, but he told me about it once.) And while all of this may make him sound somewhat like a common, blue-collar man, it’s totally uncommon in our society today. Would you know how to cut a perfect beam out of an old tree sawed down in the woods? Could you operate a freight train or connect the steel with sharp spikes to form the track? What about hitching up a couple of stubborn old mules, convincing them to move in the same direction and then using them to navigate hills and valleys scraping out the right amount of rock and dirt for a new highway? I have no idea where he acquired the necessary tools to make it in this world, but I know where he got the wisdom.

“If any of you need wisdom, ask God for it. He will give it to you.

God gives freely to everyone. He doesn’t find fault.”

James 1:5 (NIRV)

If I weren’t always so busy telling my husband what “I” think “He” should do, I might be able to learn more from the wisdom God has given him. He is a very wise man. When I’m in over my head, he frequently rescues me. But this is “The Three Wise Men” — not the “Four” — so he’ll have to wait and get on our son’s “wise man list” in the lineage of family storytelling.

As you celebrate this holiday season, look around you and identify three wise men in your life.

You might be surprised by the great gift God has given to them.

Remember, God took a shepherd boy and made him a king.

He took a bunch of fishermen and made them apostles.

And He took a little baby and made Him our Savior!

Merry, Merry Christmas!

Happy New Year!

Hope to see you again soon!

Category:

Christianity, Enlightenment, Home, Inspirational, Truth

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Worn Out on Words

August 25, 2013

The rooster doesn’t seem to know the difference in daylight and dark. He crows in the morning, he crows at night, and at high noon, sun shining, or rain clouds forming, he perches somewhere near and wears us out with his cock-a-doodle-doo’ing. Likewise, his harem of chickens cackle on all day, boasting of their latest egg laying experience, while those of us at the horse barn get caught up in the chaotic cacophony.

It’s not unlike the commotion of constant chitchat, which seems to ensue at work, home, or any other event where co-workers, family or friends flock together. Someone doesn’t meet our expectations and we assume justification in trash talking them to anyone willing to listen. We are overworked, under-appreciated, taken advantage of, and now we feel we have a green light for gossip.

A family member decides to ditch a once-in-a-lifetime event, and we feel we have every right to replay what they’ve done, long after they’ve forgotten it themselves. A friend makes a foolish choice and they are fodder for tantalizing talk at the dinner table. Someone is rude to us for no reason and the gloves come all the way off. A boss places unreasonable demands on us and we just have to let off steam. Venting is therapeutic. Or, so it seems. In reality, it’s one of the easiest traps to slip into, and one of the hardest to escape. While we are fanning the flames, we’re the ones getting burned. It wears us down mentally, physically, and anyone with half a conscious begins to feel guilty. But we continue to convince ourselves it’s our duty to rake the “really guilty ones” over the coals.

Proverbs 26:20 “Without wood a fire goes out; without a gossip a quarrel dies down.”

The words are right there. We see. We know. We’ve done this before. After all, there’s nothing quite like the righteous indignation of thinking we are the ones who are right. Even if our self-focused opinions lead to anger, stress and frustration — for some insanely repetitive reason — we keep signing up for the scenic route around the same old mountain.

I recently found myself in more than one situation with no shortage of words. The Holy Spirit reminded me to keep quiet. My late father-in-law’s wisdom reworked its way through my mind, “The less I say, the less I have to give account for.” And yet I ran into the fray, stumbling over everyone else’s words to hurry and get in my own.

And now, I am worn out on words. I am worn out on my own words, and I am worn out on the words of others. I feel frustrated, angry and stressed about all that has been discussed. I’m certain nothing that was said changed any of the situations. But every word I spoke contributed to the “dis-ease” of all that was happening.

In the book of Titus, Chapter 3 verses 1-7, it says: “Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and always to be gentle toward everyone.

Trust me, I’m not climbing up on a self-righteous soapbox. In fact, this is more of a confession. I’ve been doing a lot of “fence-sitting” next to that rowdy old rooster. The more I flap my mouth, the harder it is for me to hear from God. The louder my voice, the quieter His becomes. It causes me the greatest stress. It causes me to stop and look around; and when I recognize the same old path I’m on again, I realize it’s time to turn back. I need His direction. I need to hear His words, not my own.

So, I crank up some contemporary Christian music to drown out the sounds of those crazy chickens. Music can change our moods quicker than most anything. Then, I stop long enough to sit down and look for some answers to this age-old problem of talking too much.

I get more words.

But these will never wear us out.

“And the words of the Lord are flawless, like silver purified in a crucible, like gold refined seven times.” Psalm 12:6

The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing Proverbs 12:18

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:8

What are you spending your time thinking about?

Who are you talking about?

Have they done something far worse than the things you have done?

Sometimes it’s so hard to extend our mercy.

But mercy has been given to us, over and over and over again.

Category:

Enlightenment, Obedience, Spiritual, Truth, Women

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Did They Drop the Nails?

March 30, 2013

The old Catholic convent smelled like smoke as we walked toward the flickering glow of small candles illuminating the altar. Everyone had been handed a nail and most of us knew what we would be asked to do before the night was over. It’s an annual tradition, a ritual of sorts, and a precious opportunity that only comes around on Good Friday. Sometimes I think I would rather not go. I came up with any number of excuses that sounded legitimate this year. But just when I thought I had made up my mind to do something else, I felt drawn to go.

Our friends wanted to go with us this year and the desire to share this sacred moment with them was leading us back on the path that was now lit by tiny votive candles.

It was supposed to be a silent service. But we, as a society, find it so hard to sit still, so hard to unplug, so hard to quit whispering messages to the person next to us. When the auditorium was almost full and we had just begun to settle in and try to still our thoughts, a cell phone began to ring in the row in front of us. The man’s wife gave him that scolding look only a wife can give a husband. He struggled to turn it off as it rang and rang and rang. About five minutes later, her phone began to ring and there was no stopping the laughter that came from all those around them.

Then the ping, ping, ping of nails hitting the floor seemed just as distracting, at first. But then I started to wonder, did they drop the nails? Did the men who crucified Jesus drop any of the nails? Were their hands shaking in anger? Were they shaking in fear? How must it have felt to place that sharp point on His most perfect and innocent flesh and then raise the hammer, make contact with the head of the nail and drive it into those loving, giving, accepting, amazing, most beautiful hands?

Our choir sang in Latin with an English translation on the large video screen. It was amazing. We silently read the last seven sayings of our Lord and Savior before He willingly gave up His spirit. Tears were flowing throughout the darkened church as we each stood and walked toward the old wooden cross. There, just beyond the altar, we each nailed our sins to the cross. It is always the hammering that makes it almost unbearable. Our son said he imagined the sound to be steady beats from a drum as he tried to contain his emotions while stepping forward to accept his part in the process. No matter how many times you have heard hammering, you have not heard it like this. It feels like the floor is moving, with our hearts pounding, and our hands shaking. No matter how many times you participate, it feels much the same. My sin, my shame, my fears, my failures, held Him there on that cross.

Oh the sweet relief of communion. The hammering finally subsided. We ate the bread of life and drank from the fruit of the vine and it was over. It was finished. It was done. He is alive. Resurrected in all His glory and sitting at the right hand of our God. Our debt PAID IN FULL! Our lives begin again. We are renewed.

As we walk toward our cars, our friend says she has never gotten more out of an Easter service in her entire life. We smile. I joke that no matter how it made us feel, I will walk right out that door and sin again. They double-check to make sure I’m not planning to sin anytime soon. And I’m not. But I know I will, probably even before the night is over. He knows I will. He knows me. But He came to save me. And He will save you too. He can even save the men who crucified Him. Did they believe in Him before their wretched job was over? Did the earthquake, the sun going dark, the dividing curtain of the Temple ripping apart, convince them that He was and is in fact the Son of God? Did they have extra nails? Did they drop the nails?

And Jesus said to the thief on the cross, the one who believed in him at the last-minute,the one who had sinned up until that very moment,

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:43

Category:

Christianity, Enlightenment, Faith, Hope, Inspirational, Spiritual, Truth, Women

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KeziahCarrie

A Place for All Women

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The Three Wise Men

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Did They Drop the Nails?

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