A Woman’s Purse, the Final Frontier

By Kim Stokely –

Everyone knows a woman’s purse is a black hole in which a myriad of objects can be lost or found. If she carries a big purse, it can weigh up to thirty pounds and carry the Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. A woman who carries a small purse may fool others, but I know she’s mastered the game of Tetris and is probably carrying the same amount of stuff, just packed more economically.

Young mothers often use their purses as supplemental diaper bags. Diapers, wipes, plastic containers of Cheerios and teething rings are often stuffed next to wallets and key chains. I know women who are prepared to survive in the wild for months. Swiss Army knives, water bottles, first aid kits and granola bars; not to mention GPS devices, flares and a box of matches somehow find the room to coexist amid mundane checkbooks and pens in their handbags.

I often feel like I’m reenacting a scene from Mary Poppins when I decide to tackle cleaning out my purse. I may not have a lamp stand like the practically perfect nanny, but I’ve found some mighty strange objects of my own.

This morning, as I waded through the inevitable sea of receipts filling the bottom of my purse, I found a carrot cake muffin. Fortunately, it was still in the take-out bag I’d stuffed it in after lunch with a friend last week. Unfortunately, I could have sent it to the NHL to use as a puck in their next game. I guess I should be thankful it hadn’t exploded into tiny carrot cake pieces of sand. That could have been a real disaster.

Every time I discover something like this I promise to do better next time. I won’t horde receipts as if I want to someday create the world’s largest paper mache′ piñata. I won’t let unwrapped cough drops melt to the bottom of the bag until I have to use a chisel to remove them.

I need to periodically take a look at my soul as well to see what kind of garbage I’m carrying. Sometimes I think, because I’m not bowing under the weight of some major sin, everything must be going okay. But it just isn’t so. I often let stuff creep into my life that I need to remove- old habits, negative thoughts, judgmental attitudes and other “small” sins can clutter up my spiritual life so that I can’t find what I need; God’s grace and His mercy.

Psalm 139: 23-24 says, “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting”(NIV). As much as I might hate the process, I know it’s the best for me. After all, I’d rather be filled with God’s blessings than a stale carrot cake muffin any day!

When God Used a Rubber Chicken

By Dawn Wilson –

The macho men stared me down. I stared back. They folded their arms, unreachable. I sent up a quick prayer for help.

While at a conference working with teachers and school administrators in Central America, I was introduced as the small group leader for six men and two women, local school administrators. The men in the group were clearly not accepting me and my two young interpreters. I prayed, “Lord, how am I going to share what you’ve brought me here to give?” I felt intimidated, conscious of a wall of … what? Distrust? Pride?

The words “rubber chicken” popped into my mind. Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard God say, “rubber chicken,” so I prayed again. “Father, I need for you to overcome the cultural differences and help these macho men listen to a simple woman like me. I don’t know what to do.”

Again, “rubber chicken.”

I suddenly remembered the silly rubber chicken I’d packed in my computer bag—a travel “mascot.” When I pulled it out, and made my chicken “nod” his hello, one man laughed and pointed at the squishy fowl.

“I want you to introduce yourselves to the group and tell us what city and school you are from,” I said, “and when you finish, pass my friendly rubber chicken to someone else in the group.” As one of my interpreters repeated my instructions, two of the men sat up, intrigued.

One man practically begged me to give him the chicken first. He squished it a bit and made the chicken “talk” to the group.

I watched as they introduced themselves, laughing the whole time. They didn’t just pass the chicken, they threw it! (Later, one administrator told me he might need to get each of his teachers a rubber chicken to encourage shy children to get involved in their classrooms.)

At the end of the week-long outreach, my new friends wanted a group photo. My chicken, which they named “PioPio,” had a starring role.

As I later considered the week-long outreach, I was struck by two things.

I wondered how many instructions I’ve received from God that I did not hear because I was either too proud to ask Him for help, or too busy to listen.

Also, I was reminded that God often uses simple things and people to accomplish His will and work.  The apostle Paul wrote, “For you see your calling, brethren, that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called” (1 Corinthians 1:26 NKJV).

God often uses the foolish, weak and base—what the world might describe as “nobodies,” sometimes even the “vile” or “unworthy” in the world’s eyes. And why? Verses 29 and 31 of 1 Corinthians 1 tell us: “that no flesh should glory in His presence… He who glories, let him glory in the Lord” (NKJV).

God used a really old man (Abraham), a stutterer (Moses), a frightened judge (Gideon), a prostitute (Rahab), a widow (Naomi), a worrier (Martha), a young guy (Timothy), and so many others—the foolish, the weak and the base.

This gives me hope. If God can use them, He can use me too. From God’s perspective, it’s not a matter of our worth, but our availability and a heart surrendered to Him. As the old song says, “Little is much, when God is in it.” Even a wiggly rubber chicken.

Says Who

By Rhonda Rhea –

Whenever someone is working really hard to make a solid argument on an issue they’re passionate about, it’s easy to get frustrated. I always advise against trying to turn the argument around with “I’m rubber and you’re glue.”

“Says you” doesn’t really do much for a person’s believability either. And anytime I’m trying to defuse a heated discussion, I try to remember that “I know you are but what am I” is not the best way to go either. I might opt for “takes one to know one” except that I would be insulting myself at the same time and that seems counterproductive.

Using words as weapons is always counterproductive. It also doesn’t take long to figure out that words don’t really bounce either. They can wound. And when we’re bent on wounding, we miss a big opportunity to grow in character and wisdom. Proverbs 18:2 says, “A fool does not delight in understanding, but only wants to show off his opinions,” (HCSB). Trading wisdom just to show off? Bad trade.

Not only do we miss the opportunity for growing in understanding, but we miss the blessing of blessing. Every time you use your words to bless someone else, it becomes a rubber blessing of grace that bounces right back around to stick to you.

Paul teaches in Ephesians 4:29 to “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear,” (ESV). The word “corrupting” is from a Greek word that was originally used for rotten, putrefied food. I’m at this very moment recovering from merely looking at a bag of spinach in my college daughter’s fridge yesterday. We were digging around for salad fixings and our conversation went something like this:

Me: “Kaley, your spinach has brown juice sloshing around in the bottom of the bag.”

Kaley: “Yeah, don’t eat that. Also, don’t eat that bacon.”

Me: “No prob. I never eat bacon that’s…blue.”

The smell made my eyes water a little. Major reek-age. Do I even need to say that I wasn’t the least bit tempted to put any of that in my mouth? How sad it is when we pay more attention to the salad we put in our mouth than the words we let out of it.

We’re told in that Ephesians passage that we’re to choose a word that “fits the occasion”—words that are just right. That brings us back to the blessing of blessing. Paul doesn’t only tell us to stay away from the words that reek, but he gives us specific instructions for how our words should smell instead. When people get a whiff of our words, they should be taking in the sweet scent of grace.

It’s not about what “says you.” It’s not about what says me, either. It all comes back around to “says Him.” Jesus Himself said, “For the mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart,” (Matthew 12:34, HCSB). I don’t want to overflow liquefied spinach or bacon that might move. I want to allow Jesus to so fill my heart that my heart overflows grace words to all around.

Not “Yo mama.” Not “Talk to the hand.”

The scent of grace. Not “so’s your face.”

Touched by an Angel

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Two weeks before my first writer’s conference I was in a car accident. Rear ended at a stop sign, I contracted a closed head injury.

One of the biggest challenges for closed head injury patients is that any information or sensory overload makes the patient very tired. A writing conference? What was I thinking?

I planned to travel back to Denver nightly to save money. The first evening, I was so exhausted I didn’t think I could drive across the street, let alone the dark, windy road down the mountain.

$42 is the sum total of the money I had for the week, but I knew it was not possible for me to drive home. I decided to ask if there might be an old room or even a closet, where I could just lay down.

With a big bruised forehead, and both eyes rather blackened,. I practically crawled up to the desk at the YMCA. A cheerful middle-aged woman listened as I shared my situation. She smiled, “Let me see what I can find. Well, look here, I could put you in the outdoor lab building. You’ll have your own bed and bath, but will share the building with many children, would that work?”

“I’m a teacher, with three small boys, that would be perfect.” I was afraid to ask the price.

She winked “Would $40 for three nights be possible?”

“For all three nights?” I croaked.

Very matter-of-factly, “You need to stay for the whole conference don’t you?”

Walking to the bunkhouse, I decided I could just eat the snacks put out for the conferees and lose a few pounds as I had just gladly given my food money for a bed. Weary as I was, I didn’t care if I ever ate again.

Opening the room door I was stunned, a queen and two sets of bunk beds in a lovely room. I sank onto the bed and opened the envelope. When I opened the folded receipt a meal ticket for the whole week fell into my lap. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I slid off the bed onto my knees to thank God for His provision.

Next evening, I decided to thank the woman for her kindness, so I went back to the office. I asked the clerk if Linda was working. She looked puzzled, “We don’t have a Linda working here.”

I said, “Oh maybe I have the name wrong. She is blond, about 50, very pretty and VERY nice, she was here last night.”

She shook her head again, “I’m sorry but we don’t currently even have any blonds working here.”

I walked away in disbelief.

Had I just been touched by an angel?

Every year but one since 1997, I have made my way to Estes Park in May to enjoy one of my favorite weeks of the year at the Colorado Christian Writer’s Conference. Now, by God’s amazing grace, I get to teach there too, but few years have rivaled the blessings I enjoyed at that very first one.

This, and many other instances in my life, have brought the words in Hebrews 13:2 to life.

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (KJV).

What a Friend We Have in Garmin

By Kim Stokely –

I have a confession. I am directionally challenged. If there’s only one way to get to a location, I’ll still manage to take a wrong turn. I’ve accidently gone to another state. Even with that handicap, I’m one of the only people I know who doesn’t have a GPS device in the car. I don’t think I ever will either.

The one time I tried using one was in a friend’s car. We were on our way to a retreat and plugged in our destination. I’d been told it would take us an hour to get to the center. An hour later, my friend and I were lost in some rural town with no name out in the middle of nowhere. Her Garmin kept telling us to turn right which would have sent us into a cornfield. The disembodied voice seemed quite put out that we wouldn’t obey her command. Every time we tried to find our way back to the main road I could hear Garmin sigh as she told us she was, “recalculating.” If she’d been a real woman, I know she would have crossed her arms and tapped her foot with impatience. We finally turned off the GPS and called someone we knew was already at the retreat center to help us find our way. I have no idea where the GPS wanted to send us, but it certainly wasn’t the place we wanted to go.

Others have had similar trials. One friend told me their GPS led them to the edge of a lake before ordering, “Find a way to the other side.” Sounds pretty much like Garmin was telling her to go “jump in the lake” to me! Another friend was trying to find an ice skating rink and instead ended up in a cemetery. Fortunately, he’s not paranoid. Me? I would have been convinced Garmin was trying to tell me something.

Give me a plain old map. I love to unfold the colorful accordion of paper and locate my destination. My fingers enjoy tracing the route. My brain likes to read the different towns along the way. And, I admit with a small amount of pride, I can usually re-fold the map into its original slim rectangle without a problem.

I feel the same way about my Bible. It is God’s map for us. It’s the same today as it was thousands of years ago. Although it never changes, it is new every time we read it. I know there are fancier ways to read scripture (apps on Smart phones and I pads) but I like to crack open the pages of my leather bound Bible. My fingers like to follow along certain passages and I love to mark out new “routes” that I discover along the way. Whether you choose an old-fashioned Bible or an electronic app, make sure to be in God’s word daily. As Psalm 119:105 says, it truly is “a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path” (ESV) and will keep you from getting lost in the rural cornfields of life.

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