You Are Here

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

A woman approached a Cast Member at Walt Disney World’s Epcot with a map of Seaworld. (You see where this is going, don’t you?) She happened to be standing just under the monorail there and asked where to get on it to get to, yes, Epcot.

The Cast Member was tempted to tell the woman to close her eyes, click her heels three times and say, “There’s no place like Epcot,” and POOF she would be there, but instead she chose to replace the woman’s map, turn her around and let her know, “You are here.”

I get the feeling the visitor likely thanked her host profusely and was relieved she didn’t have to walk much further. I have been to Walt Disney World many times, and my feet sing praise and hallelujah when I let them take a break! It’s been estimated that Park Guests walk an average of 8 to 10 miles per day, per Park, and there are four separate Parks on the property. With Epcot’s World Showcase being more than a mile long itself, I’m thinking that’s a low estimate. Walt Disney World is called The Most Magical Place on Earth. As wonderful as it is, though, by the end of a week’s stay, it can become The Most Exhausting Place on Earth. Perhaps this woman was hoping the monorail meandered throughout Epcot. Now there’s a suggestion I should pitch to Disney!

Have you ever stood right in the middle of God’s will yet not recognized you were at your destination? Where the settings were right but looked all wrong? Or have you ever arrived at a station in life, worn and weary from the journey, holding a map to a different destiny? Have you ever asked God for direction only to hear Him say, “You are here”?

It’s times like those when we find we do not have as much control over this life as we thought we had. It’s times like those when we learn our best laid plans can still be trumped by God’s Master Plan. It’s times like those when we realize the Lord ordains each step we take, and He has “plans to prosper [us] and not to harm [us], plans to give [us] hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).

I read of a man who was gravely ill and hospitalized. In extreme pain he beckoned the nurse to his side. She checked his vitals, adjusted tubes, fluffed his pillow, and said, “I bet you wish you were somewhere else.”

He replied, “No, not at all.”

The nurse thought surely the man’s mind had failed and reached to page the psych ward when the patient explained, “If this is where God wants me, then here I should remain.”

Next time you think you may be off the grid, stop and pray the Lord will “Direct [you] in the path of [His] command, for there [you will] find delight” (Psalm 119:35). Then open your eyes to see you are right where God wants you: You are here.

Red, White and True

By Lynn Rebuck –

I like to dress in patriotic colors on the Fourth of July, but I may have overdone it a bit this year with my red, white, and blue attire. I had no idea how flaglike I appeared until I nearly got run up a flagpole, was saluted several times, and when I bent over to pick up a Frisbee at the park someone nearby asked a fellow picnicker, “Did a previous president pass away?”

My heart is in the right place. I am a deeply patriotic American, proudly patriotic Pennsylvanian (what’s not to love about the cradle of liberty, birthplace of independence, and home of the cheese steak), and I wear my country’s colors with pride. They just happen to be bright colors. If the Founding Fathers had gone with beige or mauve, I wouldn’t look quite so garish each year.

Thanks to the high heat on the holiday, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if some of the main characters in our nation’s history were making their bold moves on behalf of our freedom with the benefit of the technology of today.

Betsy Ross, who was making flags in competition with other revolutionary seamstresses, would probably take out ads on Facebook asking fans to vote for their favorite flag design.

Thomas Jefferson would likely have Twittered from inside Independence Hall: “Long day. These guys can’t agree on anything. More rewrites.”

No doubt Benjamin Franklin would sell stoves on Craigslist, peddle bifocals on eBay, and post daily to his “Poor Richard’s Blog.” Ben Franklin would be the darling of Twitter, with his pithy, wise, and humorous tweets of 140 characters or less.

Lititz, Pennsylvania, has its own history within the history of the holiday. The Independence Day celebration in Lititz is apparently the longest-running continuous Fourth of July celebration in the country. I believe it was started in 1775, before Jefferson even jotted down his outline for the Declaration of Independence on the back of the Constitution in ink only visible to Nicolas Cage.

I love celebrating the Fourth of July in Lititz, but I was taken by surprise when three Boy Scouts swept me off my feet and attempted to fold me up into a triangle at the end of the day. Next year I think I’ll wear khaki.

© 2011 Lynn Rebuck

 

Declaring My Dependence

By Kathi Macias –

June and July have always been my favorite months. I don’t know if it’s because they fall in the middle of the year or I just like the weather, but these two months tend to put a smile on my face.

June makes sense. After all, when you’re young, June means school is out and summer vacation begins, and it doesn’t get much better than that. But July kicks it up a notch for me, starting with all the celebrations associated with the Fourth.

Now I have to say that my husband grills the best steaks and tri-tips this side of anywhere, but my personal Fourth of July picnic-and-barbecue memories have made me a hamburger-and-hot-dog kind of girl. Even though we often went on Memorial Day outings at the end of May, the REAL summer activities didn’t seem to kick off until the Fourth. That’s when the company my dad worked for had these incredible picnics at the park that we kids looked forward to all year. There was dirt everywhere, so our mothers gave up yelling at us to stay out of it. Even better, there was a little stream that ran through the park—not deep enough that those same mothers forbade us to go near it, but just deep enough to be swarming with pollywogs. You wouldn’t believe how many of those disgusting little critters we’d scoop up into old canning jars filled with dirty water from the stream. Then we’d carry them home as trophies, swearing we’d take care of them and not let them die this year.

Another highlight of the annual outing was the food itself. All the moms brought their specialties, from potato salad to brownies to baked beans. Plus we all got to help make the ice cream, which was mouthwateringly good. But the meat was my favorite part. This is where I fell madly in love with barbecued hot dogs and hamburgers, because the only other alternative was venison steak. When I found out that venison was deer meat (which happened only weeks after my parents took us to the drive-in to see “Bambi”), I swore I’d never touch venison—ever! Thankfully the cooks offered the hot-dog-and-hamburger alternative, and those two items soon became my barbecue staples.

Of course, the best part of those Fourth of July celebrations came when the company picnic ended and the sun went down. That’s when we all piled into our cars and headed for a nearby spot where we could park in rows in the dirt, sit on the hoods of our vehicles or on blankets spread on the ground, and watch the FREE firework display. As we oohed and aahed that it was the best show ever, we were reminded—by many of the adults in attendance—that the glorious colors exploding in the sky were more than just spectacular entertainment. At least one parent always retold just enough of the story of America’s independence to keep the oohing and aahing in perspective.

“Freedom isn’t free,” someone would say. “Many paid a great price so you could sit here and enjoy all this. Some even gave their lives. You should always be thankful.”

I can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason I so love this time of year, and I’m sure it has a lot to do with it. But something else happened one July—the 5^th, as a matter of fact, clear back in 1974—that made this June/July season even more special for me.

It was the day I met Jesus, the day I declared not my independence, but my dependence, on the One who paid the greatest price imaginable so that I could be set free—not just here on earth, but forever with the Father.

And that puts it all in eternal perspective, doesn’t it?

It’ll Curl Your Hair

By Rhonda Rhea –

We’ve never been one of those families that sits around a campfire telling scary stories. Too creepy. Every once in a while, though, I have to admit I liked to frighten my teenage girls with one of the scariest stories I know. And it happened to me. It’s the story about when I was a little girl. And my mom….gave me (insert a maniacal “mwah-ah-ah” here)…a home perm. Cue scary dissonant organ chord.

I describe in gory detail how I had to spend several weeks looking like a dandelion, the other cruel children making wishes and blowing on my head. Frightening. Nothing can raise up a fresh batch of goose bumps like a story of evil Frankenstein-ish chemicals and a perm gone bad. What could be scarier than that first look in the mirror? You’re pretty sure you’re so frightened you’re hair is standing on end, but who could tell? And the smell? It would singe the hair right out of your nose. After hearing my dandelion story, I honestly think my girls would buy a home lobotomy kit before they would buy a home perm kit.

Didn’t I hear this comment about that bottle of perm solution?  “I’d rather have a frontal lobotomy than a bottle in front of me.” Yeah, that had to be perm related.

How many people do you know who seem to have found a lobotomy blue light special? So many seem to make every life decision pointedly and purposefully completely opposite what the Lord spells out for us to do in His Word. It’s like mocking His instruction! Now there’s a reason to fear. Proverbs 9:9-12 says, “Instruct a wise man and he will be wiser still; teach a righteous man and he will add to his learning. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding. For through me your days will be many, and years will be added to your life. If you are wise, your wisdom will reward you; if you are a mocker, you alone will suffer” (NIV).

Making life choices contrary to the Father’s instruction brings suffering. But choosing to live a life of obedience results in wisdom, blessing and reward. That life of obedience starts with the good kind of fear. Not the hair-curling kind of fear, but a humble, awed reverence for the holy, holy, holy God.

Knowing, fearing and following Him might not guarantee every day is a good hair day, but wisdom really does lead to more wisdom. It’s blessing becoming more blessing. The blessings lead right into our ultimate blessing when we’ll see Jesus face to face. There will be no more evil, no more pain, and no more tears. It’s an eternal life full of love and laughter. And none of our heavenly laughter will be that maniacal kind.

That’s a thought that almost always leaves me goose-bumpy. The good kind of goose bumps. Not the chemically inspired kind.

©2011 Rhonda Rhea

June Gloom?

By Kathi Macias –

Okay, if you recognized the term “June gloom,” you must be from California, right? Seriously, June gloom is a major weather phenomenon here on the West Coast, and I for one love it! Why? Because I live in the desert, and June gloom is our last buffer against a summer hot enough to fry your brain five minutes after the sun comes up in the morning. To say it gets hot out here in the California desert is like saying it gets cold in the Antarctic—an understatement if ever there was one.

So what exactly is June gloom? It’s the glorious gray, damp, chilly fog that rolls in off the Pacific nearly every morning from Memorial Day until almost the Fourth of July, holding temperatures down until the sun burns through it and starts heating things up by noon or so. But at least that gives us the morning hours to get outside, take walks, prune the roses, etc. Once that desert sunshine makes its entrance, forget it! We desert rats lock ourselves inside, turn up the AC, and don’t come out again until dark.

It wasn’t always like that, though. There was a time, eons ago, when I despised June gloom, but that was because I lived right on the coast—not anywhere near the desert. June gloom there lasted nearly six months out of the year, and that frigid blanket of damp gray seldom burned off, instead leaving everything cold and miserable—including everyone who lived there.

But we were kids then. When school let out the middle of June, nothing was going to keep us from heading for the beach and catapulting our skinny bodies into the icy cold waters of the Pacific Ocean. I was nearly twenty years old before I found out that blue was not my natural skin color and teeth weren’t supposed to chatter.

Then I got old. Seriously! I refuse to tell you how many times I’ve passed another twenty years and how distant a memory those “skinny bodies” we once took for granted have now become. And somehow, some way, my husband (who grew up in the same gray beach town) and I ended up living in the desert. Now we celebrate June gloom and weep when it disappears because we know what’s coming—115-degree days for about four months or so.

And yet, when that broiling summer sun finally sets in the evening, we’ve discovered that there is nothing to compare to the beauty of desert nights. Along with our neighbors, we crawl out of the woodwork at sundown and revel in the clear night skies, the clean air, and the un-crowded streets and towns we now call home. We’ve learned that home really is “where the heart is,” June gloom notwithstanding, which makes it all the more important that our hearts are focused on God and eternity. For that’s where our Home really is, isn’t it? And what a magnificent Home it will be! No need for June gloom to hold down the temps there, for we will at last be in the ideal place we’ve been yearning for all along.

I’m going to hold that thought as I work my way through this year’s June gloom season—and on into the stifling hot months to follow. After all, in the words of the late Rev. E.V. Hill, “This ain’t it!” And aren’t we glad?

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