Your Perfect Creation

By Cheri Cowell –

A friend’s daughter came home from the doctor with a video sonogram of her first child. My friend was sharing her excitement of being able to “see” the little girl being formed in her daughter’s womb. I marveled at the idea that we could participate in this way with God’s greatest miracle: the creation of a baby. Even in the first trimester, the child’s genetic make-up is already determined. The Scriptures tell us that God is there in the “secret place” and has already written the child’s days in His book. Our God is so amazing.

Every artist is said to leave a part of his or her heart in every creation. Likewise, God’s character is in the creation of every person. When you or I criticize any part of His most precious creation, I can imagine His heartache. He is the Great Creator God and He considers you His finest creation. Think about how complex your inner being is, and how perfectly your body works: heart, lungs, blood, brain, and limbs. He is an amazing God!

PRAYER: I praise You for knitting me together in my Mother’s womb, and being there with me in that secret place. Thank You, Lord, for creating me as a perfect reflection of Your character. Help me see myself as You do—Your perfect creation.

“I will praise Thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are Thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from Thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in Thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them” (Psalm 139:14-16, KJV).

Today’s devotion is by Cheri Cowell, who writes and speaks on topics of Christian discipleship. In addition to her books and articles, you can learn about her speaking ministry and sign up to receive her daily devotional www.CheriCowell.com

Welcome Back to School, Please Sign Here

By Lynn Rebuck –

As a mom, I always dread the ton of homework that I get assigned on the first day of school.  There is always a sizeable stack of forms for me to review, complete and sign.

There used to be fewer, less complicated forms when kids started back to school. Now I need a paralegal to help me fill them all out.

First I encounter numerous classroom contracts which my son and I need to sign in triplicate.  Some need to be notarized.

We must stipulate to standards for classroom behavior, attendance and homework completion. I am sending my son to school this year with counter-offers.

Next I must complete the registration card requiring emergency contact information.

Designating someone to pick up your child when he or she becomes feverishly ill is always a tricky decision. It’s tough to get someone to commit for a second year of service once they’ve had to clean your child’s morning meal out of their minivan.

There is also the fairness and reciprocity rule to consider. If the individual you previously listed had to pick up your child multiple times, while her remarkably healthy children didn’t need you to come to the rescue the entire school year (they didn’t even have cavities), it would be inappropriate to ask her to commit to another year on-call.

Next in the stack is a media consent form that asks whether I authorize my son’s image to be photographed, his name to be published on the Internet or in the news media and for him to be interviewed by Anderson Cooper. Hmmm, I’m going to have to consult my son’s talent agent and publicist before I respond to that one.

By the time I get to the “radiological emergency” card I am overwhelmed with anxiety and ready to home school. Since we live within a 10-mile radius of a nuclear power plant, I must decide whether to authorize school personnel to give him an emergency dose of potassium iodide in the event of a nuclear emergency.

A more ominous card has evolved from the emergency contact card: the “catastrophic emergency” form. In the event of a total meltdown, no wait, that would fall under the nuclear emergency card…umm, in the event of a complete catastrophe, who do I want to pick up my child?  My first choice would be the First Lady. Michelle Obama can pick him up with Air Force One. I hope she doesn’t mind. I’d be happy to reciprocate.

By the time I finished all of the forms I was suffering from severe writer’s cramp, had multiple paper cuts and my signature had degraded into a series of illegible curves and squiggles.

But if a school district photographer ever snaps a photo of my son as Michelle Obama rushes him onto Air Force One following a catastrophic “nuclear” chain reaction right after school personnel administer iodide to him in the wake of an incident at Three Mile Island, district officials need not worry—I signed the forms.

Lynn Rebuck is an award-winning Christian humor columnist, speaker and mother whose humor column appears weekly in print and online. She is currently looking for loopholes in the library book return policy. Read Lynn’s humor blog on her website, www.LynnRebuck.com, sign up for her newsletter, follow her on Twitter and become a fan on Facebook. That’s your homework. © 2010 Lynn Rebuck

It’s Not All About Me

By Carin LeRoy –

My son works in a popular coffee shop, and the other day a lady walked in and ordered a drink. After completing the cup, my son handed it to her only to be assaulted with a barrage of complaints. He forgot to dribble the chocolate syrup over her whipped cream. He was shocked by the verbal outburst she displayed in the store. She took a simple omission and made a huge deal out of it at the expense and embarrassment of my son. Perhaps she experienced a rotten week, but her anger and rage were misdirected.

A polite response to the error would say, “You forgot my syrup. Could you please add that?”   Instead she found it necessary to cause a scene in the middle of a coffee shop, even calling the manager later to complain more. Graciousness did not seem to be a part of this woman’s character, and her actions show that life was more about herself than being polite. Her performance reminds me of a two-year-old having a temper tantrum.

We will encounter such people as we walk through life, but we can choose to act with courtesy toward them. Graciousness in answer to an uncomfortable response from others comes only as we respond to the Spirit of God. As our culture strays from the constraints of self-control and civility, we should be the people who stand out from the crowd. I am reminded of the verse that says, “A fool lets fly with all his temper, but a wise person keeps it back” (Proverbs 29:11 NET). Let’s show a gracious spirit that displays courtesy toward others. Use your words to uplift rather than tear down. Kindness is like a boomerang; it always comes back to you.

PRAYER: Lord, give me a kind tongue and a gracious spirit as I encounter people today. Help me to stand out from the crowd as one who loves You. Give me self-control when I encounter a difficult situation.

“The heart of the righteous considers how to answer, but the heart of the wicked pours out evil things” (Proverbs 15: 28 NET).

Today’s devotional is by Carin LeRoy, wife to Dale and mother of three grown children and one almost-grown teenager. She has been a missionary with Pioneers since 1982. Her passions are family, missions, piano and writing to challenge others to live faithful lives for God.

Bless the Beasts, the Children and Women Like Abigail

By Cynthia Ruchti –

I have this friend (no, really I do!) who is struggling in her relationship with her husband. He’s not an ax-murderer or an adulterer, so she can’t just walk away. Nor would she want to. He’s a good man, but they’re not seeing eye-to-eye right now on a few dozen issues.

My mind flipped through the pages of Scripture and stopped to rest on passage after passage that revealed incidents of women who wrestled with less-than-ideal situations with the men in their lives.

That formed the basis of this prayer on her behalf. I’m posting it here because I’m pretty sure she’s not alone.

Great God of women with issues (of blood or otherwise),

…of women with jerks for husbands (like Abigail with Nabal),

…of women who are strong but misunderstood (like Deborah),

…of women who don’t like the choices their husbands make (like Sarai),

…of women whose husbands fail to take seriously their role as spiritual leader in the home (like Eve and Adam),

…of women who through the Adamic curse get their insides ripped out in childbirth while the men are “burdened” with oh-so-traumatic sweat and weeds, poor things,

…of women who are mentioned as followers of Christ and contributors to His work…but their husbands are not (like so many New Testament women),

…of women who “go to the tomb” because they care so deeply and have to do something with their sadness,

…of women who “happen” to be in the Garden to witness angel-speak because they care so deeply ,

…of women who put the pieces together when they hear that Jesus is alive, even though the men closest to them—who ought to know better—don’t get it,

…of women who wait for their husbands to return from war, to show up after work, to show up emotionally, and to “get it,”

PRAYER: Great God of women who from the beginning of time have found their strength—and their reward—in You, please place Your Hand of enduring blessing on the heads of the women who endure. Grant them a double dose of heart-peace for every bucket of patience they pour over their homes and relationships. Refill their reservoirs of grace, reservoirs so easily drained by life and people. May they find in You an inexhaustible measure of what their hearts most need—to be understood, appreciated, cherished, protected, encouraged, wanted, treasured, approved, believed, honored, embraced, covered and well-loved.

“Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?” (John 20:15a KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). She is the author of They Almost Always Come Home (Abingdon Press Fiction) and the soon-to-be-released The Heart’s Harbor in A Door County Christmas novella collection. Cynthia writes stories of hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

Oooh, Baby

By Jane Thornton –

This spring my bi-annual case of nature fever struck as scheduled. Some time every March, when the sun has shone for seven days straight, and the daffodils and redbuds sing of the coming season, I get a yearning to be outdoors and plant flowers. The bug attacks again in September when the temperature stays below ninety degrees for seven days in a row. Unfortunately for my garden, the passion is always short-lived, and I tend to migrate to my habitual pastimes of reading novels or watching movies during every spare moment.

As usual, when my zeal peaked this year, I binged at Home Depot then came home to don my gardening attire. Since my lily-white skin rarely sees the light of day, I need to take advantage of these fits. On went the raggedy shorts and the T-shirt with arms and neck scooped out for tanning purposes.

After a few hours, my hair straggled over my forehead although a kinder person might have described it as tousled or windblown. Potting soil clung to my knees and had seeped through my gloves to embed itself under my nails. And, to use the southern, feminine term, I glowed.

At this point, my husband, Wes, drove up, returning from some long errand. I smeared my dirt-encrusted glove across my face, trying to see through the rattails of my hair. With a hand braced in the small of my back, I creaked to a stand, making it to an almost-erect position.

“Wow! You’re working.” He strode across the lawn, swept me into an embrace, and laid a fervent kiss upon my lips. Apparently he found the unusual aroma of perspiration an effective aphrodisiac.

I have noticed another aberration over the years. Wes finds the vision of me behind an ironing board a bigger turn on than me in a skimpy nightie, perhaps because the ironing is a rarer sight. We once went to a marriage seminar at which we were asked to share with each other actions which made us feel cherished. Ironing came up. So much for the impression gained by my novels and movies—they suggested a smoldering look was all it took. Recently, Wes threw out another shocker. He opened the cabinet and, finding I had stocked up on his favorite grape Kool-Aid, casually commented that a plentiful supply of the drink made him feel loved.

Now, I’m not knocking the usefulness of a beautiful negligee, but the desire for a successful marriage requires us to learn some of these other quirks—and to do something about them. Look at the description of a wife of noble character in Proverbs 31:10-31, NIV.  This woman “gets up while it is still dark,” “sets about her work vigorously,” “grasps the spindle with her fingers,” “makes coverings for her bed,” etc. The result? “Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her” (Proverbs 31:28 NIV). I have a new habit of buying a few containers of grape Kool-Aid every time I’m at the store.  And at this moment, the ironing basket is calling my name.

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