Common Cents

By Darren Marlar –

Recently Coinstar allowed the American public to give their thoughts on what should happen to the U.S. penny.

For a lot of us, the penny is nothing but a nuisance. For others though (two thirds of those surveyed), Uncle Sam should keep the copper coin in circulation. The survey also found that most people would stop to pick up ole’ Abe if we saw him on the ground looking up at us (84 percent of women and 74 percent of men).

But really, we can’t get rid of the penny. Society would crumble. Think about it. What about penny loafers? They’d cease to exist. And penny arcades are already gone forever!

You could never get paid a “Penny for your thoughts.” You’d have to share your opinions for free.

People would have no need for a savings account, because “a penny saved is a penny earned” would be completely meaningless.

You’d spend money without thinking about it because you could no longer be a “penny-pincher.”

What about “See a penny, pick it up, all the day you’ll have good luck”? You’d have to move it up to a nickel or dime – meaning good luck would suddenly be five to ten times more expensive.

Speaking of inflation, making a wish in a fountain would cost a lot more too.  And how do you tell a waitress that she gave you lousy service if you don’t have a penny to put on the table face down?

Of course, this is just my two cents on the issue. Take it now, because if the penny does disappear, I’d have to give you a nickel’s worth of advice, and I don’t have enough bandwidth for that.

Would You Smell This?

By Rhonda Rhea –

Tell me you’re not one of those people who says to another family member, “Hey, would you smell this?” Unless we’re talking fresh flowers, new cologne or hot-out-of-the-oven bread, that’s rarely a question that causes a family member think, “Oh boy, this is going to be great!”

Why is it that there are those who see chunks in the milk or come across questionable socks in between the clean and dirty pile of laundry, and (emphasis on this next part) being unwilling to sniff any of it themselves, sort of pawn the smell off on someone else? I don’t want to smell this. It might be disgusting. Here, you do it.

Isn’t the sense of smell the only one of the five senses that we regularly use as a weapon? It’s a little like chemical warfare, isn’t it? There should be a standing universal rule of etiquette, approved by the Geneva Convention, that says you should never ask anyone to smell something you’re not willing to smell yourself. Sort of a “smell unto others as you would have them smell unto you” rule. I don’t think we could call it a golden rule, but maybe at least aluminum.

On the spiritual side, anytime we encourage people to live a life of righteousness for Christ when we’re not living it ourselves, we’re definitely sniffing up the wrong tree, as it were. We need to make it our own personal universal rule to follow Jesus out of love for Him. It’s the right thing to do. And as a bonus, it’s a testimony that prompts those around us in right living. Psalm 106:2 asks the question, “Who can proclaim the mighty acts of the Lord or fully declare his praise?” (NIV). Then the psalmist answers the question in the next verse:  “Blessed are they who maintain justice, who constantly do what is right.”

Not to be too nosy here, but have you asked yourself recently if you’re making a positive difference in this world by the way you’re living? Are you maintaining justice? Constantly doing what is right? Is your testimony of righteousness influencing and inspiring those around you to live well too?

Making a personal rule of consistently doing what is right out of love for Christ is always the best idea. It’s ever so much more important than living life according to the aluminum rule—or any other precious metal rule we can come up with. A personal rule of obedience is one that helps spread the charge to right living beyond ourselves as we proclaim his mighty acts and fully declare his praise, just as the psalmist inspires. And that’s like a sweet smelling offering to the Lord. Isn’t that a blessing of the sweetest spiritual olfactory kind?

Of course back on the physical olfactory side, I’m thinking it’s also a good idea to make it a personal rule that if you see chunks in the milk, don’t even bother sniffing. Just have some coffee.

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?

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