No Other Name

By Rhonda Rhea –

I said I’d never do it. But I did it. And actually, I’ve been somewhere near the worst of them all. I said I’d never be one of those moms who went through the whole list of her kids’ names before hitting on the right one. But at least once a week the entire time my kids have been growing up I would want to say something to one of them, and it was suddenly a roll call. I’d hit every name on my five-kid list and sometimes even throw in a couple of my own siblings and a stray cousin or two

To add still more offense, I would often manage to get a couple of the pets’ names mixed in there, too. You can imagine how the kids loved that. At least I would fight the urge at that point to say, “Sit. Stay. Good teenager.” Well, most of the time. But it got downright embarrassing. I thought about adding a “Banana” and a “Fanna-fo” hoping they might be fooled into thinking it was some kind of name game.

I would’ve just given up and numbered my kids, but I had no doubt I would’ve called them the wrong number. By the time you call your kids the wrong number once or twice, they’re likely to be insulted enough to completely tune you out anyway. “You have reached a kid who has been disconnected or is no longer listening…

I was chatting with a friend of mine the other day. I can’t even remember why now, but somewhere in the conversation she said something surprising and I said, “Surely you’re kidding.” She said, “I’m totally not kidding. And don’t call me Susan.” Then there was a long pause. I think we were both processing. After the processing came a couple of snickers and she said, “Oh wait. It’s ‘Shirley,’ isn’t it.” Then we both laughed uproariously for a good ten minutes.

Sometimes there’s just no substituting the right name. In Acts 4, Peter and John were standing before the rulers trying to explain whose name they were using to do all the preaching and healing they had been doing—the preaching and healing they had just spent the night in jail for, by the way. But Peter didn’t need a roll call. He told them flat out, “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12, NIV).

No substitute. No other name. Not Susan. Not any name on any list I might rattle off. The name is ever and always Jesus. He is the one who has all power to do all saving. And He makes salvation available to every person of every name.

How glorious that our Heavenly Father has given Jesus the greatest name, the greatest, most honored and holy place. “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father,” (Philippians 2:9-11, NIV).

Surely that’s reason to celebrate! Though let me make it clear, I’m not calling you “Shirley.” And please don’t call me Susan.

Kangaroos and Thanksgiving

By Steph Prichard –

“Where are all the kangaroos?” I peered out the car window at the Australian countryside north of Geelong. The land looked no different than what I’d left in the United States—acres and acres of gently rolling farmland. Except … shouldn’t there be kangaroos hopping across the road, echidna as road kill, maybe an emu strolling among the sheep?

“Kangaroos don’t run wild in farmland, Mom. I’ll take you to see some tomorrow.”

Ahead of us, a car in the wrong lane aimed itself straight at us. I sucked in air through my clenched teeth as it zipped past on the right. How many choking breaths would it take before I remembered Aussies drove in the wrong … er, left lane?

Three weeks later the kangaroos and echidnas and emus and I had everything straightened out. I returned home in love with the land of Down Under, its people, and its amazing creatures. Everything … except driving on the wrong side of the road.

Had the first settlers in the New World felt a similar awe at the strange land they set their feet on? We join them at Thanksgiving in expressing gratefulness for a land of liberty and opportunity, a land in which we are free to worship God and to live to please Him. 

We even figured it out about driving on the right side of the road—but it’s still the wrong side. Spiritually, ever since Adam and Eve, the world has been driving away from God, not toward Him. Our greatest gratitude as Christians is for a Savior who became The Road, the way back for us to God.

And it only gets better. The Road takes us to a perfect land—Heaven, where there will be no more sin, no more tears, no more death, but God Himself dwelling with His people. Can it be any better than that? God with us, in person!

And, hey, since “creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God,” who knows what fauna and flora we will encounter? Think of all the plants and animals that have become extinct—what a wonder that would be to see them! (My trip to Australia has me hankering to see a Tasmanian devil.)

Thanksgiving—it’s our feast from the day of our salvation to the day of our arrival in eternity with God. How are you doing? Are you chowing down with an attitude of gratitude?

 

Discount Dilemma

By Emily M. Akin –

 

“Decaf coffee, please,” I said as I stepped to the head of the line. The teen behind the counter looked puzzled, so I repeated my order.

“One decaf coffee,” he said, ringing it up. “That’s 60 cents.”

“But the coffee price is $1.00,” I said.

“Senior discount,” he announced, already heading for the coffee machine.

I looked around to see if anyone might have heard him. The man in line behind me smiled. I didn’t know whether to feel insulted, honored or lucky to save a few cents. Since I was holding up the line, I let it go and moved on. I felt like a fraud because I didn’t really qualify for the discount. But, what made him think I was a senior citizen? Was it the dozen or so gray hairs? Did I appear decrepit and therefore truly deserving of the discount?

Senior discounts are a good marketing tool, but they can backfire. That young man went out on a limb giving me the discount. He probably thought he was doing me a favor. What if I had taken it as an insult? I might have caused a scene in front of all the other customers. He forced me to let everyone think I was over the hill already—not a kind thing to do to someone teetering on the brink of seniorhood. What was just another order for him was a stark wake-up call for me. To him, I looked old.

Another time, I went to a buffet restaurant with friends my age. The server, who seemed new to the job, eyed the bald-headed man in the group. “Does anyone get the senior discount?” she asked in all innocence. To which the shiny-head replied, “One of us does.” After the meal, the server returned with the bill listing all of our orders on the same ticket. One of us got the senior discount. We had to figure out who it was before we went to the counter. Experienced or not, that server successfully avoided insulting anyone. She passed the buck to the man at the checkout counter.

A gray-haired friend ordered food at a drive-in window. The cashier gave the total, announcing that she had received the senior discount. She wondered why he thought she qualified. Did she have a doddering, elderly voice? She was depressed for several days thinking she sounded old, until someone suggested that there was probably a video camera next to the drive-thru speaker. Not much comfort. She didn’t sound old, she just looked old.

But what’s the solution? If the employees are trained to give the senior discount to anyone who looks old enough, they don’t have to ask. But, they also run the risk of insulting folks who look older than they are. It’s true, the customer is compensated for the insult, but it doesn’t make for repeat customers. Why don’t they start carding people for senior discounts? That way, if you want that discount, you have to admit your senior status publicly.

A restaurant in my town has come up with a solution. The sign at the register says, “Senior Discount Available. Just ask.” This puts the ball entirely in the customer’s court. The employees don’t have to risk offending anyone, and customers can get the discount if they’re brave enough to request it. A classic win-win situation.

Stuck Like Glue

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

I should not be allowed anywhere near Superglue. Remember the old TV commercial where the construction worker hangs by his hardhat from a support beam? That could so be me.

OK, so I was opening a new tube of Superglue the other day. My son had stepped on his Nintendo Gameboy and had broken off a piece of plastic. Supermom to the rescue, right? Sure.

Anyway, as I said, it was a new tube. That means you have to unscrew the lid, turn the pointy nozzle around, and jab it into the seal. Simple.

I managed steps one and two alright, but the seal refused to puncture. I jabbed and forced and contorted the tube all around until finally, clear, sticky gel oozed out. And oozed some more. And some more. I tried to catch it on a piece of cardboard, intending to then dip toothpicks for my fine, crafty Nintendo repair. But the ooze kept spewing out of the tube.

I tried to screw the nozzle back on, but gel squirted out around the edges and ran down the side. Keep in mind this is happening in a matter of seconds. So I got the lid in place and tossed the thing in the trash.

Except that it didn’t let go.

No, the tube was stuck to my forefinger and thumb. And my forefinger and thumb were secured to the middle and ring fingers. And the fingernails on the opposite hand were freshly coated with a new layer of nail strengthener.

I was tempted to panic but instead remembered my pediatrician’s warning that cooking oil dissolves Superglue. You see, two of my kids have had cuts sealed with glue instead of with stitches, so the doctor had told me to keep the glued area clear of oils. Time to ignore the doctor’s orders!

I pried open the olive oil and drenched my fingers over the sink. I rubbed and wiggled and scraped myself to freedom, then washed away the residue. The menacing tube dared me to touch it. It knew my fear as it challenged from the counter. In one fell swoop, I tore off a paper towel, scooped up the glue, and dropped both into the waste bin.

Ah, sweet freedom!

I think it may be what Jesus had in mind when He said, “Remain in me, and I will remain in you…remain in the vine…remain in me…I am the vine; you are the branches” (John 15:4-5). Except that the opposite effect occurs. If I remain in Superglue, I can do nothing. However, if I remain in Christ, I can do all things. I am going to stick to Him like glue.

And I think maybe Duct tape will work fine on the Gameboy.

Will the Real Superwoman Please Stand Up?

By Kathi Macias –

I’ve always been a control freak who wanted everything to run smoothly—perfectly, actually. No bumps or surprises, just—well, a “tight ship,” as they say. And somewhere along the line I got the idea that I could make that happen—if I just tried hard enough. I think it may have started when I first saw Superman on our family’s black and white TV and wondered, Is there a Superwoman somewhere? When I put that question to the adults in my life, theysmiled and patted me on the head and said, “I don’t think so, dear.” So I decided to sign up for the job—a reasonable if somewhat naïve aspiration for a six-year-old, not so reasonable and way beyond naïve at twenty-six. Two decades after the birth of my Superwoman dream, I was still running as fast as I could and getting nowhere. My twenty-year-old dream was going down for the count, and I was nearly at the point of throwing in the towel—until I met Jesus.

What a difference! Now I could latch on to verses like “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” and “All things should be done decently and in order”—biblical affirmations of my desire to do things right, to do things efficiently and effectively, to do things with power and authority. Finally I was invincible—in Jesus, of course. Now all I needed was a godly role model and I’d be on my way.

I began my search in earnest, reading through the Scriptures until I came to Proverbs 31.Eureka! There, at last, was the epitome of the Superwoman I’d been hoping to become since I was six years old. The perfect woman—perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect housekeeper, perfect entrepreneur—all rolled into one! Not only did her husband and children praise her, but God must have approved of her as well or He certainly wouldn’t have included her as an example in the Bible. My dream was alive and well once again! At last I would be able to “get it all together,” to win instead of fail, to run a tight ship, and to keep things under control. Life was good, and the future looked bright.

There was only one problem. I hadn’t figured on all the loose cannons rolling around the deck of my not-so-tight ship….

You see, I had a family—meaning, I shared my life with other human beings. Not only were those other humans imperfect (and yes, I was aware that I was imperfect as well), but they didn’t consider me Superwoman at all. It seemed the harder I tried to organize them, the more unruly they became.

After years of trying to get them to march in lock-step, keeping their rooms clean, their clothes hung up, their homework done (I’m including my husband in this line-up!), I achieved nothing except exhaustion. And then one day—finally—I fell to my knees and cried out, “God, I’m tired! I just can’t do all this. It’s not fair! Why do I have to do everything?”

If God chuckles—and I imagine He does—He undoubtedly did so at that moment. In fact, I think I may have heard Him, even as He silently but firmly answered my question: “Nearly everything you are doing is by your own assignment. All I asked you to do was come and sit at My feet. Sadly, you’ve been far too busy for that.”

Talk about a reality check! And so Superwoman hung up her cape, apologized to her family, and reduced her to-do list to one item: Spend time with God. At last I had figured out that if I did that one thing, God would see to it that the rest got done—with or without my help. And as time went on, much like the Proverbs 31 woman’s experience, my husband and children rose up and declared me blessed.

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