Loose Connection

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

My daughter’s television pixilates. Turn it on to watch a show, and every few minutes the action stops. Like a game of Red Light-Green Light, actors freeze in odd poses. Their faces blur. Sometimes the audio continues, giving the frozen frames a storyboard effect. So, naturally, we worked that into a homeschool lesson on the art of animation.

Despite its educational value, interrupted programming is annoying and hard on the eyes. My husband tried troubleshooting. He replaced the cable. No difference. He traded boxes from another room. No difference. He reset the entire system multiple times. No difference. When all else failed, he called for help.

The cable guy was scheduled to arrive between 8:00 AM and noon. You know what that means—he arrived at 11:59 with a few seconds to spare. He proceeded to do all the things we had already done. No difference. He then checked the main connection upstairs. It was so loose the cable detached when he touched it! He tightened some wires, and voila! Big difference.

All that for a loose connection.

Sometimes life gets pixilated. I go along my merry way when suddenly my forward progress halts. Images become unrecognizable. The continuous audio is the chatter in my head, the noise of me making my own plans.

I troubleshoot. Did I skip something on my schedule? No difference. Did I neglect to pay a bill? No difference. Did I leave the iron on when I left the house? No difference. Time to reset the system and call for help.

In John chapter 15, Jesus gave an illustration regarding the importance of staying connected to Him. Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15: 5). When we disconnect from Christ, our lives pixilate and our signals scramble, much like a faulty TV. The scene gets fuzzy, and despite our own best efforts, nothing makes it any better. Clarity is not restored until we reconnect to the Source.

Don’t miss the educational value of the pixilation. Go to the Man Upstairs and tighten your loose connection.

Jodi Whisenhunt is an Amy Award winning freelance writer and Senior Content Editor of The Christian Pulse. Find her editing services at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com, and let her show you how Disney IS school at www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com.

Lemons and Lemonade

By Kathi Macias –

“When the world gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

Okay, I get it. Don’t cry over spilled milk and all that—just clean up the mess and find a way to make something good out of it. Before you know it, those tears might just turn into laughter, right?

Right. Seriously! It happens.

We’ve been going through a really tough time lately—walking my almost 90-year-old mother through the last of her days/weeks/months (years?) on earth before bidding her farewell when she goes home at last. It’s the cry of her heart to leave this world and “graduate” to heaven, as she so longs to see her Savior and be reunited with loved ones who have gone ahead of her—particularly my dad. In fact, she says that’s one of the most difficult things of living so long: you soon find that nearly everyone your own age has already checked out! On the positive side (making lemonade again!), you don’t have to deal with peer pressure.

Mom lived with us for almost eleven years before we realized we could no longer care for her. She needed someone with her 24/7, and we simply couldn’t do it. We visited a lot of nursing and private care homes before deciding on an assisted living facility within fifteen minutes of our home. It’s a lovely place with delightful people and gorgeous grounds. Mom has her own private room, which we decorated with many of her personal things, and yet she still has the care she needs. It’s ideal!

But every now and then we’re reminded that we won’t find “perfect” until we get to heaven. It happened to me the other day when I went to visit Mom. I was walking down the hallway toward her apartment, thrilled that we had found such a nice place for Mom, when I heard a voice behind me mumbling, “It’s so hot in here! Why do they keep it so hot in this place? And where is my apartment?”

Uh oh. I asked myself if I should turn around or just keep walking. I made the wrong choice. I turned around and there, heading straight toward me, was a woman who had no doubt marked a minimum of eighty years on this planet—and was as naked as a jaybird! Her clothes were strewn along the hallway behind her where she had apparently tossed them in an attempt to escape the “heat” as she searched for her home.

A couple of phone calls quickly confirmed that she was a new arrival who had managed to “escape” her apartment (they are now working on getting her moved to the dementia wing) and had no idea how to find her way back—or even where “home” was.

I know. That really isn’t funny, though the incident did cause a few chuckles among the other residents who are now being much more careful to keep their doors locked, since apparently the “happy wanderer” had stopped into their places while seeking her own.

I couldn’t help thinking of that precious woman when I sat with my mother at the Sunday afternoon church service held at the facility each week. There are several hundred residents there, but only about thirty or forty who avail themselves of the chance to come together for corporate worship. (Some ride the van to their own churches, but many others do not, and each has the opportunity to come downstairs to join in.) Is it possible that at least some of those who don’t attend are as spiritually naked and lost as the woman I saw in the hallway that day? At least she was making an effort to find her way home; how many of the others have no idea where “home” really is—and they’re running out of time!

Makes me that much more determined to make lemonade out of lemons! Moving my mom into the assisted living facility has been difficult, but it has opened a new door for ministry—both for her and for me when I visit. We are determined to make a difference there and to walk in such a way as to light the way home for all those who are lost and homesick…even if they don’t know it.

Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com; www.thetitus2women.com) is an award-winning author of more than 30 books, including her upcoming April release, People of the Book, the final installment of the Extreme Devotion series from New Hope Publishers.

Fast Time and Fast Food

By Lynn Rebuck –

I have long admired the Amish. Recently, I learned yet one more reason to respect them: some pay no mind to daylight savings time.

A friend who used to drive for the Amish (a car, not a team of mules) told me that when arranging pickup times, the Amish would inquire whether the pickup time she stated was “fast time” or “slow time.”

Fast time is how the Amish refer to our odd practice of changing the time arbitrarily based on the calendar and someone’s bright (no pun intended) idea.

Clearly, Fast Times at Amish High has a whole different meaning than at Ridgemont High.

It seems that the cows belonging to the Amish pay no regard to the man-made ritual of time change and prefer to give their milk as previously scheduled.

This year I was reminded that the great state of Arizona also shows udder disregard (okay, pun intended that time) for the switch to daylight savings.

So why is Arizona so rebellious? Do they just like to make it difficult for airline travelers who panic about making it to their Phoenix connecting flights in time?

To complicate things even further, the Navajo Nation, which is located within the boundaries of Arizona, follows daylight saving. However, the Hopi Nation, which is surrounded by the Navajo Nation, does not.

So, if you are hoping to pick up a Hopi friend in Arizona soon after the switch to daylight savings, you’d better take extra care in coordinating schedules. It is possible that preceding predicament may wind up as a word question in a math textbook.

Hawaii doesn’t change the clock either. They are still “hanging ten” while the rest of us are hanging eleven or twelve.

So what gives these states the freedom to regulate their own time? Well, states have the right to opt out of daylight savings under the federal Uniform Time Act of 1966. They need only pass a state law to do so, as Arizona and Hawaii have done.

In 1987, an extension to daylight savings time was enacted as part of another federal bill. What was the driving force behind that change?

French fries.

Yes, you read that right.  French fries.

What’s the connection? To find out, email me at Lynn@LynnRebuck.com.

Well, it’s time for me to go change the clocks. I think I’ll set them back another hour instead of springing forward. I could use the extra sleep.

Lynn Rebuck is an award-winning Christian humor columnist, speaker, and comedian.  She was once asked to be the keynote speaker at a silent retreat. Her column/blog appears weekly in print, online, and on Amazon Kindle.  For more of her humor, visit www.LynnRebuck.com, email her at Lynn@LynnRebuck.com, fan her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter. © 2011 Lynn Rebuck

Grampa’s Sermons

By Emily Parke Chase –

When one of my brothers, in a sentimental mood, decided to give each of our kids a recording of their grandfather’s sermons, the response was, um, muted enthusiasm. So I was surprised when those tapes began to lead a wild life of their own.

Mind you, my children were all under the age of ten at the time. They were not inclined to listen to their mother in person, let alone a series of sermons on a cassette tape. That is why, one day when he was ridding his closet of clutter, my oldest son sneaked the tape into his sister’s room and hid it in her pile of clean laundry. And when she found it? She dutifully returned it to her brother, this time hiding it in his underwear drawer.

From that time on, they passed the tape back and forth year after year, ever escalating the value of the hiding places. When Tim became a teen and began dating, his girlfriend invited him to dinner at her home. After the meal, she served him lime Jell-O for dessert. Inside the green gelatinous mountain, courtesy of his sister, was the cassette, carefully preserved in a ziplock bag.

When children go off to college, don’t they all look forward to receiving care packages? Our daughter asked a house guest from Wisconsin to take along an unmarked box and mail it to Tim’s campus mail box. He ripped open the out-of-state package with enthusiasm only to find not home-baked cookies but Grampa’s sermons.

When our family moved out of state for a year, our daughter Prisca was still in high school. She played volleyball for her new school’s team, and at the end of the season, the coach called her out at halftime for special recognition in front of all the fans.

“Prisca has been a powerful assist to our team this year, and we will miss her greatly next year,” he concluded. Then he presented her with a beautifully wrapped gift. Flushed with pleasure, Prisca returned to the bench, pulled off the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box to discover a note from her brother and . . . the infamous plastic cassette.

Did anyone ever listen to the sermons? Yes. Driving across the country on a road trip, Tim stuck them in his tape deck. Hearing his grandfather’s voice was far sweeter than, um, lime Jell-O.

“Everything that is now hidden . . . will eventually be brought to light,” Mark 4:22 (NLT).

The author is busy listening to sermon tapes. Visit her at www.emilychase.com to learn about her books, including Help! My Family’s Messed Up!

A “Leftover” Celebration?

By Kathi Macias –

February is the shortest month in the year, and I’m okay with that. But why does it have to be the busiest too? (Okay, next to December.)

Seriously, February starts out with my hubby’s birthday on the fifth. Now, he claims that he’s too old to make a big deal of such an occasion, but I happen to know that he’d be crushed if we actually took him at his word and let it pass by unnoticed. Besides, he’s been dropping hints since November that he’d really love it if we treated him to a prime rib and lobster dinner. (Guess McD’s is out of the question, eh?) And, of course, you can’t celebrate with a dinner like that and not have a present, right? That’s a challenge in itself. He’s a golf fanatic, but I think we’ve already bought and given him every golf gadget ever created, so what’s left? Our grown children keep calling and asking me for ideas, as if I actually had any. Can anyone say “stress”?

Following on the heels of that birthday celebration comes our second son’s birthday and a granddaughter’s too. More ideas needed, though pre-teen granddaughters aren’t nearly as difficult to buy for as grown men.

We no sooner recover from that than it’s officially “hearts and flowers and chocolate” time—i.e., Valentine’s Day. Of course, I enjoy that one because I don’t just have to come up with ideas for other people; I can also count on being on the receiving end of the day too. Dinner out? Flowers? Candy? I’ll take ’em all!

After that we get a little breather until almost the end of the month when my husband and I (hopefully!) remember that it’s our wedding anniversary. Now shouldn’t that be a really special, romantic celebration? You’d think so….

Problem is, everyone’s broke from buying birthday gifts, and romance ideas are all used up on Valentine’s Day. Dinner out? Did that three times this month. Budget is blown. A quiet weekend getaway? Out of the question—same budge-related reason. Flowers? The dead ones are still drooping in the vase and shedding on the counter. Candy? Puh-leeze! I already can’t button my pants, and I still have half a box of chocolates left from Valentine’s Day!

So what were we thinking when we chose February 26 for our wedding day? Surely there’s something left to celebrate at the end of such a short, busy month…isn’t there?

When I whined about it the other day, our oldest son, whose birthday is December 22, reminded me of how many times he felt cheated having a birthday three days before Christmas. He has a list a mile long of gifts he got with the note “Happy Birthday AND Merry Christmas” on them. He’s got a point.

His mention of Christmas got my attention, too. Only two months since we celebrated the greatest gift ever given, and now I’m complaining about not getting or doing anything special on my anniversary. The more I thought/prayed about it, the more I realized how self-centered so many of our celebrations are, and I decided it was time for a change. Not sure how everyone else will react, but here’s the plan.

This year, for our anniversary, instead of going out for a dinner we don’t really need, I’m going to suggest donating that money to one of our favorite ministries and maybe even donating the time to a local outreach at our own church. If my husband and I do it together, something tells me it will be more meaningful than anything else we might have planned for ourselves. And it just might be a great idea for the next family event, where we can include children and grandchildren, siblings and their families, and work together to bless others. I have a feeling it just might catch on—and permanently do away with “leftover celebrations.” Care to join us?

Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com) is a popular speaker and an award-winning author of more than 30 books, including the popular Extreme Devotion fiction series from New Hope Publishers.

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