Hemmed In, Wisconsin to Texas

By Robin J. Steinweg –

I blew through the days like a tumbleweed in a windstorm. Rehearsals and a choir concert for my second-born son were added to my full workweek. After the concert, I packed for my first-ever flight. My husband drove me in the wee hours of the morning to an airport five hours from home, the only flight that would get me to our firstborn son’s graduation.

Before my husband had driven halfway home, I landed a thousand miles away in Dallas, deaf due to air pressure. My son’s friends picked me up and got me to the auditorium fifteen minutes late. David was on stage with the praise band. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas, and I wept for joy. Then time suspended as I entered into worship.

It resumed in the congestion afterward, when David introduced me to more friends at the reception. I had my first meal since the quick PB&J I’d swallowed the day before.

David’s car took us homeward into an electric storm that covered the south of Oklahoma.

Around midnight we found a motel and slept a few hours.

Next afternoon we got as far as Liberty, Missouri, when BAM! The left front tire exploded. David rassled the car to the two-foot shoulder. We unloaded the trunk, picking hoards of local spiders off as we searched for jack and spare. I watched cars race past, barely missing us, and it began to dawn on me through the fog of shock that this was dangerous. As I shrank from speeding traffic, a pickup was forced into the ditch to our right. I called 911. Three squad cars responded, the officers standing in harm’s way to protect us as we waited for a tow. By evening we’d heard enough stories about that corner to be grateful we were still alive.

Home looked good the next afternoon.

Interesting contrasts in two short days. From ground level to 37,000 feet. From hearing to not hearing. From 50 degrees to 94 degrees. From North to South. From harried rushing to timeless worship. From steady, driven activity to sitting in a cramped car for two days. From the safety of an enclosed vehicle to the vulnerability of standing a couple of feet from hurtling metal.

Yet an unseen Hand hemmed us in. We were—and are—enveloped in His love and care.

PRAYER: Lord, whether my life is defined by unending change or unending sameness, You are present. Whether the pace is frenetic or flat, You are near. From my conception You have watched over me. Even to my gray hairs and old age, You’ll carry me. Bless You.

“You hem me in—behind and before; You have laid Your hand upon me … Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast” (Psalm 139:5, 7-10 NIV).

Stinkin’ Thinkin’

By Robin J. Steinweg –

My name is Robin J. Steinweg, and I am a closet pouter.

It took reading a post on The Barn Door, a blog started by my friend Lisa Lickel, to wake me up and hear the non-music of my complaints.

I’m cold. I’m hot. I’m tired. I’m hungry. That was too much walking. I don’t get enough exercise. Too much noise! Way too much mess. Too busy. I’ve got nothing to do. Is it snowing again? This computer strains my eyes. My closet is stuffed. I’ve got nothing to wear. You wanna hear complaining? I’m just getting warmed up!

So what was it that started this round of whining? I had a week off from teaching. It’s called Spring Break hereabouts, and many of my students had trips scheduled to warm, sunny places (and had the nerve not to invite their music instructor—go figure). So I filled in the gaps with a schedule of tasks I don’t usually have time for. With more work than usual on my list, I began to feel sorry for myself, a response that crept in from a very warm place indeed. Well, to be fair, the devil shouldn’t get so much credit for my attitude, when my own sinful nature has no trouble grumbling all on its own.

How does God stand me at such times? I can hardly stand myself. In the Old Testament, there are accounts of God so frowning on Israel’s bellyaching, He sent poisonous snakes among them.

I need to face facts—my gripes are a tacit criticism of the day the Lord has made. And shame on me. It’s time for a radical purging of the Big Stink I’ve been putting up. Time for a week of Spring Cleaning. As Henry Ward Beecher said, “An ungrateful heart uncovers no mercies; but if a thankful heart sweeps through the day, it will find some heavenly blessings in every hour.”

QUOTE: “It is literally true, as the thankless say, that they have nothing to be thankful for. He who sits by the fire, thankless for the fire, is just as if he had no fire. Nothing is possessed save in appreciation, of which thankfulness is the indispensable ingredient. But a thankful heart hath a continual feast.” –W. J. Cameron

“Do everything without complaining or arguing” (Philippians 2:14 NIV).

You Put Your Whole Self In…

By Robin J. Steinweg –

“Is this your youngest? He’s so tall! When did he mature so much?”

Startled, I looked at my son through my friend’s eyes. He had grown tall. How had I missed this latest spurt? How long was I not really paying attention? Once I’d had every eyelash, every mole, each dimpled finger memorized; his hairline mapped out; the pitch of his voice was the refrain that wound through my mind like an 8-track loop.

What things had I put my whole self into instead? A novel or a project can capture my focus, so my attention and energy converge to one point. The external world fades. I even forget meals. Most often it’s the pressure of my To-Do list.

Now properly jolted, I reacquainted myself with the features of this young man of mine. I contemplated his choice of words—the things that make him laugh or concern him—listened with care. I saw and jumped on the opportunity to ride with him in the car once a week to his choir and art classes. This had been my free morning; now it was the morning I was free to spend my most precious commodity on him.

Time.

Two captured hours with my son in the car one morning a week until the end of the semester. I’ve been told that I’ve made a sacrifice. Hmm—balance this one on the scales: my son on one hand, a few hours of my time on the other. In terms of sacrifice, I feel as though God has provided the lamb. He has gifted me with an opportunity to “put my whole self in,” as the song goes. My full focus and attention can converge to this one point. The external world can fade. My To-Do list can wait, my son’s maturing won’t.

Seconds expire the same instant they spring up. I’ll put my whole self into these!

QUOTE: “You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.” –James Matthew Barrie

“For everything there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV).

Today’s devotional is by Robin J. Steinweg. Robin’s life might be described using the game Twister: the colored dots are all occupied, limbs intertwine (hopefully not to the point of tangling), and you never know which dot the arrow will point to next, but it sure is fun getting there!

Deal With the Bunnies!

By Robin J. Steinweg –

Bunnies. Furry, cute, comical—and the terrors of my flower garden.

They set up housekeeping under our aluminum shed and did what bunnies do: eat, sleep and multiply. They decimated my strawberries, devoured my moss roses and poppies, shredded the hostas and nibbled my clematis to the ground. The marigolds I planted to deter them? Eaten.

Natural repellants and even the dog didn’t stop them. We got a safe trap and caught a baby. I watched from the window as Little Peter bloodied his pink nose trying to get to his mama stationed outside the cage. Repentant, I ran out, opened the trap and said, “I give up! Live. Eat.”

I started feeding them along with the birds.

For the next years I experimented with flowers they might not eat, and enclosed my favorites with ugly chicken wire. I complained and ranted from the kitchen: “Nefarious bunnies! How I wish you’d be gone!” I watched them play, scratch their ears and stretch out in the shade.

A few weeks ago I realized I hadn’t seen a bunny in awhile. I went to look, and found telltale hunks of fur strewn about. A hawk? A few days later I saw feathers. That seemed to confirm the hawk theory. But no bunnies appeared. The next week I spotted the cause: two young feral cats skulked on our swing-set, eyeing my feeders. I opened the door and they vanished—under the shed—where my cute furry nefarious bunnies used to snuggle. Now we have a family of not cute, tricksy, sneaky cats living off the fat of my birdfeeders (I don’t dare put seed out now), protected from the weather and soiling our former sandbox. If only we had dealt with the bunnies and filled in the area under the shed in the first place.

It occurs to me that sin can be like this. I have my pet “faults”; not too bad, possibly even pleasant. I may complain about them. But if the Holy Spirit convicts me and I tolerate or even nurture them—don’t allow Him to deal with them—those “innocent” sins are swallowed up and replaced by sneakier, faster, more predatory sins. Deal with the bunnies!

PRAYER: Lord, examine my heart for sins I’ve tolerated as cute, acceptable, or even comical. Help me to deal with them before worse ones move in. Thank You for revealing them, helping and forgiving me.

“Say a quiet yes to God and He’ll be there in no time. Quit dabbling in sin. Purify your inner life. Quit playing the field” (James 4:8 MSG).

Today’s devotional is by Robin J. Steinweg. Robin’s life might be described using the game Twister: the colored dots are all occupied, limbs intertwine (hopefully not to the point of tangling), and you never know which dot the arrow will point to next, but it sure is fun getting there!

Fixed

By Robin J. Steinweg –

I’ll fix you! This is beyond fixing. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Daddy, can you fix my remote-control car? I’ll go fix lunch. That election was fixed. We fixed the date for our wedding.

Ple-e-e-e-ase fix my printer! Fix these grades or else. Got the dog fixed. Don’t fix blame on everybody else. I’m fixin’ to head south. No worries, it’ll be a quick fix. It’s easier to toss it than to fix it.

Face it. We are folks with a fixation for fixing things.

Parents fix formula for babies and boo-boos for toddlers. Students fix mistakes. Teachers fix students’ mistakes. Medical personnel fix broken bones or worn-out parts. Computer technicians and programmers fix the world for computer users. Government leaders try to fix the world.

Everything and everyone needs fixing. It’s the oldest problem we have. Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden and introduced entropy—the measure of disorder in a system—the tendency of everything toward chaos, breakdown and decay.

In case anyone doubts that I’ve fixed upon a truth here, let me suggest we imagine how my kitchen looks if I neglect it even for a day. Or the bathroom sink. Or the kids’ bedrooms. Picture the house siding in a month’s time. It’s as sure a law as gravity—left to follow the natural course of things, our very lives are headed for destruction.

Is there a fix for the human condition? Of course there is! God has shown His love for us in this: Jesus Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Like the dirty dishes in the sink, we can’t clean ourselves. We must look to Him to do it for us. And then He makes plans for us, plans to give us a future and a hope. A permanent fix!

AUTHOR QUOTE: As we fix our eyes on Jesus in faith, He doesn’t only repair us; He makes us new.

“But my eyes are fixed on You, Sovereign Lord” (Psalm 141:8a NIV).

Today’s devotional is by Robin J. Steinweg. Robin’s life might be described using the game Twister: the colored dots are all occupied, limbs intertwine (hopefully not to the point of tangling), and you never know which dot the arrow will point to next, but it sure is fun getting there!

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