Quite a Spectacle

By Karen O’Connor –

As I slip on my sunglasses today I’m reminded of how they might just as easily still be in Burlington, Ontario, Canada.

I walked out of Community Presbyterian Church one Sunday morning in April––the day before my appearance on the Canadian television program, 100 Huntley Street, fresh from the inspiring sermon, and delighting in the brisk morning air. I felt free, excited, and eager for what lay ahead.

I exchanged my clear glasses for sunglasses. Then I pulled on my warm jacket to shield myself from the wind. I thrust my hands into the side pockets––checking, as my husband Charles has taught me to do––for each item I had brought with me. I had left my purse behind in the hotel room.

Kleenex™ tissues. Room key. Identification. Check! Check! Check! All there—except my prescription glasses. Where were they? I had been wearing them just a moment before. I was certain I had returned them to my pocket after putting on my sunglasses. I couldn’t lose them. Not now. Not in a foreign country.

“What did you do?” I drilled myself.

I retraced my steps over the half-block from the church to where I was now standing. Back and forth I walked, looking at every square inch of pavement, in the street gutter, around bushes, under tall clumps of weeds. I might have appeared to be a spy or a detective to anyone passing by.

My glasses were gone. Out of sight. Vanished.

I rushed back to the church and checked in and around the pew where I had sat. Then I dashed to the hotel to be sure I had really taken them with me. Maybe I hadn’t been wearing them after all. By that point I didn’t know what to believe. This was more than a mere senior moment. It was a disaster in the making. I had to have my glasses to see!

Then I became downright giddy. “Hang on, glasses. I know you’re out there somewhere. I will not leave without you. You don’t belong here in Canada. You live with me in the United States.”

I was sure I was losing it by then. I prayed like mad, then returned once again to the route I had taken, and looked at every speck of ground in front, behind, and beside me. I begged God to show me the answer.

Then I felt His counsel––to relax, breathe deeply, walk slowly, look up. And then it happened. I saw my glass case with my glasses snuggled safely inside, sitting on top of a fire hydrant in front of an abandoned cottage.

“Hallelujah!” I shouted right there in the middle of the block on a Sunday morning in Burlington, Ontario, Canada–and I didn’t care who heard me. I kissed the case and slipped it into my pocket, my right hand holding it firmly. Then I nearly skipped all the way back to the hotel.

But it was not until I stopped to thank and praise God that I received the gift He had for me. “Look up, Karen. Up to me. And I will hear and answer you.”

I’m still not sure how my glasses ended up on top of a fire hydrant. Perhaps a kind person found them on the sidewalk and placed them there for the owner to notice. Or maybe I laid them there for a second while I pulled on my coat and switched to my sunglasses. I don’t remember. Nor does it matter. God knows.

Mind the Gap

By Kim Stokely –

Is it just my kids, or do others recall the oddest things from family vacations? We take them to Disney World and they don’t talk about rollercoaster rides or Mickey Mouse, but hotel pools and getting wet in the rain. And if you ask my children what they remember most from their vacation to England several years ago, they’ll probably laugh and tell you to, “Mind the gap!”

If you press them they’ll tell you about Stonehenge and the Tower of London, but the thing that stands out most in their minds is the ever present, disembodied voice on the tube (the underground train) telling passengers to “mind the gap” at every station. The gap is the space between the train car and the platform, sometimes several inches wide. As the rattling subway approached the station, a proper British voice, like an invisible, yet vigilant sentinel, would call out its warning and we’d laugh, repeating it to each other as we jumped off the car to go sightseeing.

Even with the cautioning voice, we saw several people trip as their foot got caught in the gap. They’d stumble, but manage to right themselves, before they fell. I must confess to a little self-righteous judgment when I saw them. If they’d only paid attention, they’d have been fine. The funny thing is, most of the people we saw trip weren’t obvious tourists, like my family, but Londoners who more than likely ride the tube every day. People for whom the journey had become routine. They didn’t hear the warning because of being caught up in their own thoughts and worries about the day.

I wonder how often it is that I ignore God’s reminders to “mind the gap?” I may not hear a voice with a British accent cautioning me, but I know there are daily signs He gives me to keep me in His will. And yet I, like those passengers on the subway, often get so focused on my own little world and the hurried pace of the day, that I find my foot caught in the gap (or sometimes planted solidly in my mouth) and I end up sprawled in sin or just consumed by needless angst. Psalm 119:105 tells us, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (NLT). It can also be that still, small voice that reminds us daily to “mind the gap!”

Not Yet Ready to Titus

By Carol Barnier –

I should have seen it coming. The Bible says, “For everything, there is a season,” but somehow I missed that memo saying “. . .and Missy, your Autumn approacheth.”

It’s true, I no long qualify for MOPS. I haven’t had a preschooler in, well, awhile. My calendar no longer schedules play dates, but rather, testing dates for the SAT, and ACT.

Whether I’ve taken note or not, time is marching on in my life, even though I’ve made every attempt to age only on alternate leap years. But I think it hit me hardest when I was approached by a lovely young woman in my church asking me to assist in a program. I assumed I was about to be asked to help in the nursery, to perhaps teach Sunday School. But no. . . instead, she asked me to become. . . wait for it. . .a Titus woman. The surest sign that you have aged is being asked to become a mentor to younger married women, which of course means that you are no longer one of them.

I don’t know if my face gave testimony to my shock, but inside I felt the sudden stirrings of rheumatism, and a shocking need for more fiber.

Now I know it’s an honor to receive such a request but I have problems even with the name. Titus. Think of it. It rhymes with Phlebitis, Gastritis, Hemorrhaging Encephalitis—ALL good words to stay away from.

Nonetheless, since it’s an honor, perhaps I could manage it. I decided to go home and look up just what this job description entails.

Have the older women. . .[ah. . .that’s supposed to be me I think. . . joy] to be reverent in the way they live.

Uh oh. We may have a problem right off the bat. My humor is often described as IR-reverent. Perhaps I’m not qualified for this matronly honor after all.

She is not to be a slanderer. Okay, I think I’m good there. In fact, I sincerely hope that I’m more a Barnabus—you know, an encourager and keeper of the heart rather than a slanderer. Moving on.

She is not to be addicted to much wine. . .

That one’s easy. I don’t even like wine. But if addiction is the key word here, I must confess to a less-than-healthy relationship with my morning cup of coffee. My favorite mug reads “I drink coffee for YOUR protection.”

Moving on again.

. . .but she is to teach what is good.
Well, maybe I could teach one or two good things. Perhaps age does bring some worthwhile experiences with it.

In the end, maybe I could pull this off. But somehow, I’m just not quite ready for this Titus-Woman thing. The honor of the request is not lost on me, but it seems such a serious responsibility. And perhaps, I’m really not right for such a task, even with the aging requirement easily fulfilled. God doesn’t call each of us to be the same thing. That’s why He said, while we’re all a part of the body, some of us will be an eye, others a foot, others an ear, still others a hand. Yet all are a part of His bride, which I think means I fall somewhere near the elbow—a silly looking part of the body, the purpose for which is not totally clear, but is nonetheless directly connected to the funny bone.

Snow, Snow Glorious Snow!

By Liz Cowen Furman –

We live in the mountains above Denver, Colorado. We often have big snows, especially in March. One year, we had the daddy of all storms, one of those historic six and a half foot heavy wet snow storms.

Our three boys were in elementary school and the school was closed for a whole week. In Colorado that almost never happens!

The storm was so big, the weather guys saw it coming and predicted its arrival way in advance. We, being very scout like, went to the grocery store to stock up on provisions. Even shopping was fun as there was an air of excitement of the coming blizzard. Everyone was shopping for supplies. Many of the shelves were empty. We bought lots of food we could cook on the wood burning stove and eat without cooking just in case. And of course baking supplies.

Then it hit.

Unshoveled decks and roofs were collapsing all over town under the incredible weight of the heavy spring snow. Trees snapped and power lines were down.

Miraculously, we lost power for only a few hours the first day. Others went without for more than seven.

That glorious week holds some of my fondest memories of my children’s early years. We made snow ice cream (several times). We took clothes baskets outside and used them to make snow blocks, then stacked the blocks into an igloo. Our entire family, dogs and all crawled in to play cards by lantern light. We went sledding (of course), skiing, snow shoeing and even jumped off the wall into the snow drifts then crawled out. We made snow men (and women) that looked like us. Even a snow ball fight or two ensued battled behind snow walls.

We trudged to neighbors houses to offer our freshly baked cookies then sat by wood burning stoves drinking hot chocolate and eating s’mores while we warmed up. We watched movies and played Dominoes and Parcheesi. Bliss beyond words. Then we dug out!

Several of us able bodied neighbors and our kids went digging driveways and shaping paths from houses to garages, especially for our elderly neighbors. It really felt like a community.

There were so many times during the storm when neighbors helped each other out. A dear friend, just weeks before the storm, had given me a little plaque that read: Sometimes He calms the storm; sometimes he lets the storm rage and calms His child.

The new plaque, which I loved, sat right above my kitchen sink and almost every day I would read it and be reminded of something. One morning I thought, as I looked out the window at the group of snow shovel toting residents, how great it is that He uses His kids in each other’s lives to bring comfort and help.

Another day, as I watched the snow swirl and drift with the incredible force of the wind I was reminded that every storm we encounter in our lives whether emotional, physical or actual weather related, He controls. He can calm or let rage as He determines necessary. But the best thought of all came to me one morning as I was reading in the book of John. He can calm His child no matter what is happening around her, I found great comfort in that one.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

Shouldn’t I Be Scrubbing Toilets?

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

The end of the month was fast approaching. That meant deadlines. Several deadlines. So I faced the blank computer screen and dared it to a staring match. It won.

There I sat. Fingers finally glided over the keyboard. Backspace, backspace, backspace. No, that’s no good. Typing frenzy #2. Better. A few keeper sentences, but something nagged the back of my mind. I checked Facebook. Hmm, nothing going on there. OK, back to work.

A few paragraphs were complete. I read back over them and smirked at the computer. Perhaps it had not won our contest after all. Alas, the article required more, so I stared at the screen again, when a sudden thirst overwhelmed me. I felt as though I’d traversed the dessert with not a drop to drink. I downed cool water to refresh my parched mouth, then returned to my seat with renewed vigor. (A march across the dessert is very inspiring, you know!)

Alrighty, back to task. Write, write, write. Done. Right? No, backspace, backspace, backspace. Sigh. Shouldn’t I be scrubbing toilets?

Have you ever had moments like that? Moments when you know you need to get your work done, but you just don’t want to do it? Moments when you’d rather do anything, anything—even scrub toilets—to avoid the job at hand? What do you do in those moments?

Here’s what I have done. First, I have made a commitment to the Lord that in all I do, I want to glorify Him. I desire to live my life in a way that pleases Him. I want every decision I make, every action I take, every word I write, every breath I breathe to be what God desires. I don’t want to get in His way, because when I do, I stumble and struggle.

Second, I pray. First Thessalonians 5:17 says to pray continually, or pray without ceasing. I must be diligent to do just that. I must make a conscious effort to stop and pray before I ever sit down to write or perform any dutiful task. I know the Lord has blessed me with desire and ability, and I must use it for His purpose. I will be useless in all areas if I do not seek Him first in all I do.

Matthew 6:33 says to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. Jesus promises that if I do that, He will give me the things I need and perhaps some blessings I hadn’t requested as well. If I seek the Lord first in prayer and devotion, He will reward me with countless ways to glorify Him.

As my writing endeavors turned out, I decided scrubbing toilets wasn’t worth it. So I sat back down, BIC as they call it (bottom in chair), sent up a silent word of prayer, and finished the article you are reading right now. Take that, you rascally computer!

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12).

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