In I Samuel chapter one is the story of a woman named Hannah. Her husband, Elkanah had two wives: Hannah and Penninnah. Penninnah was able to bear children, but Hannah was not. Back in this time period, that was considered a disgrace. It didn’t matter to her husband. Elkanah loved Hannah so much, he gave her a double portion at meal times because he knew she felt inferior as a wife. Peninnah was a hope drainer. She took every opportunity to say, “Nanny, nanny, boo, boo!” to her rival. Hannah was not impervious to these awful words. She wept and even refused to eat. It is rough when you feel like you have been praying for something forever and it seems like no one, even God, understands the depths of your despair. Elkanah could not figure it out. He was obviously concerned and told her that she meant more to him, then if she gave him ten sons, but Hannah did not care. In verse ten, we see a little bit more insight into this woman. She went with her husband to the synagogue to pray.
"In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord."
The definition of bitterness is: Having or being a taste that is sharp acrid, and unpleasant, causing a sharply unpleasant, painful, or stinging sensation, marked by resentment or cynicism.
I don’t think her entire prayer was this beautifully worded plea. We aren’t told her entire prayer. It is very interesting to me that none of the bitter words she uttered to God are printed in scripture. The only words we have are the vow she made to God.
I Samuel 1:11 (NIV): And she made a vow, saying, "O Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head."
She continued to pray. Eli, the priest observed Hannah and assumed she was drunk! Rather then being offended she shares her story and prayer to the Lord. Eli must have seen what God saw in Hannah’s vow.
In verse 17, Eli answered, "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him."
Hannah immediately dried her tears and went to eat something. She replaced her bitterness with hope. For years, she was bitter. She was angry. She pouted. She pleaded. She prayed. She wept. Hannah was so consumed with bitterness, she could only see the thing that was wrong with her. She was oblivious to anything positive, such as her husband loving her unconditionally. It was not until she made the vow with God, trusting him no matter what, that she received the answer she desperately wanted: YES!
The story ends marvelously with Hannah conceiving a beautiful baby that she named Samuel whose name means: "Because I asked the LORD for him."
In the end, Hannah’s biggest trial was transformed into a beautiful testimony of God giving her the desire of her heart.
I have a girlfriend that was unable to have children. I have seen her cry over it. It is a deep wound in her life. But rather then pout, or being angry, she works in the children’s ministry volunteering her time. For Christmas, she hands out free babysitting to her friends, and takes the kids to Chuck E. Cheese. She buys different children Christmas presents every year. She attends baby showers, and talks about how much fun she had shopping for a baby. Because of her love for children, family after family has been blessed by her generosity. Rather then having one or two kids, she has hundreds in her arms.
When you find bitterness eating away at your unfulfilled dreams, pray your way through the bitterness. God isn’t in shock to find out that your bitter. He is a mind reader. So, pray! Tell him all about it. Bitterness drains any hope out of the situation. Trust God to answer the way he sees best. Purge your bitterness through prayer, and then lift your head high. God has heard you!
Psalm 37:4 (NIV) declares: Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Copyright 2007 Michelle Rocker
8/25/10
Rest Stop
My car headed down the road of life.
Today it was bumpy—full of strife.
I wasn’t sure if I should scream, pitch a fit and cry,
Laugh hysterically, or drive off the cliff and die.
I realize what people would think and say.
Well, I can’t help it! Sometimes I feel that way.
Okay, I really needed help, where should I stop?
Stop? No! Too many crumbs in the kitchen to mop.
I hurried faster and pushed the pedal down.
The quicker, the better getting through this town.
Do you know which town I mean?
The one where no room is clean.
No matter how many times you do the dishes
They multiply like the five loaves and two fishes.
The baby’s finally asleep and my brain’s fried.
I slammed the brakes and pulled over to the side.
But the rest stop is too short lived
My toddler is blowing his lid.
So, I push the pedal back down
Two more years in this toddler’s town
Then my husband comes home and asks for his dinner..
Hmmm… pizza delivery sounds like a winner.
He says, “There’s no money, you have to cook.”
I glare at him, and hand him the cookbook.
My cruise control seems broken so I have to drive
That cliff sounds inviting and where I want to dive
“God, are you listening? I’m so very tired.
This job—well—I don’t want it, can I be fired?
I need your strength to get through this day.
Just a little help, what do you say?
I saw a road sign ahead,
“Leave your cares behind,” it said.
I turned and saw the road led into the sky
The heavens opened and I began to cry
This was the rest stop I really needed
“Let me stay here!” I desperately pleaded.
“Sure, my child. Rest your head for awhile.
Today you’ve traveled so many miles.”
I rested and knew this was the place to be.
Tomorrow I would stop here first, here I’d flee.
Something happens when in Jesus you rest.
It is only then that you drive your best.
Copyright 2004 Michelle Rocker
Today it was bumpy—full of strife.
I wasn’t sure if I should scream, pitch a fit and cry,
Laugh hysterically, or drive off the cliff and die.
I realize what people would think and say.
Well, I can’t help it! Sometimes I feel that way.
Okay, I really needed help, where should I stop?
Stop? No! Too many crumbs in the kitchen to mop.
I hurried faster and pushed the pedal down.
The quicker, the better getting through this town.
Do you know which town I mean?
The one where no room is clean.
No matter how many times you do the dishes
They multiply like the five loaves and two fishes.
The baby’s finally asleep and my brain’s fried.
I slammed the brakes and pulled over to the side.
But the rest stop is too short lived
My toddler is blowing his lid.
So, I push the pedal back down
Two more years in this toddler’s town
Then my husband comes home and asks for his dinner..
Hmmm… pizza delivery sounds like a winner.
He says, “There’s no money, you have to cook.”
I glare at him, and hand him the cookbook.
My cruise control seems broken so I have to drive
That cliff sounds inviting and where I want to dive
“God, are you listening? I’m so very tired.
This job—well—I don’t want it, can I be fired?
I need your strength to get through this day.
Just a little help, what do you say?
I saw a road sign ahead,
“Leave your cares behind,” it said.
I turned and saw the road led into the sky
The heavens opened and I began to cry
This was the rest stop I really needed
“Let me stay here!” I desperately pleaded.
“Sure, my child. Rest your head for awhile.
Today you’ve traveled so many miles.”
I rested and knew this was the place to be.
Tomorrow I would stop here first, here I’d flee.
Something happens when in Jesus you rest.
It is only then that you drive your best.
Copyright 2004 Michelle Rocker
8/23/10
God's Delight
My little rowboat careened out of control. The sea tossed me as if I were a mere feather that was tickling its nostril. I clung to each side of the boat, my knuckles white. Demons mocked me. Their beady eyes glowed in the darkness, and their taunting laughter collided with the thunder.
I was so gullible. I thought I knew what was best. Would I ever learn? How many chances did I have left? I lifted my face into the stinging rain. Was He up there? Did He care anymore?
The demons laughter grew louder. I covered my ears to shut them out. I slumped to the bottom of my little boat, and waited for my watery grave to claim me. The next wave hurled me to the top of its crest. It threw me into its depths; my little boat trembled, shook, and broke apart. I grabbed a broken plank and hung on for what was to be the last seconds of my life.
“God, are You there? Hey, it’s me. I messed up again. I’ve made a real mess of things this time. Do you see me? Don’t you see that I can’t win? This storm is too big for me. It’s my own fault, I know. I threw the compass overboard, oh and the map too. I didn’t think I needed it. Worse, I didn’t think I needed You. Can I still be Your child? Is it too late for me? DO YOU HEAR ME? I need you!”
One by one the demons crossed in front of my site. Their eyes played images of my demise. Hurling insults, degrading words – all correct – all deserved, right?
Unexpectedly, a booming crash of thunder blazed from the sky. The clouds parted and a streak of light bolted from the center. A beautiful luminosity, surrounded by angels descended. Clamped around the glimmering lightning bolt was a cloak of darkness that carried a storm far more severe then the one I was experiencing. How could something be so beautiful and terrifying all at the same time?
As the vision neared me, I realized the light was not a lightening bolt, but God himself coming down. He untied his cloak of darkness and flicked it toward the surging sea of ghouls. Hailstones, lightening, and wind-driven rain descended toward us all. I looped my arms around the board and covered my head as if to shield off the menacing insult. I heard the demon’s screaming in pain around me. Could I survive God’s wrath? I peaked and encountered all of God’s fury unleashed, but not an ounce of it was near me.
Astonished I watched arrows emanate from all around Him. A blast of fire discharged from his mouth, “You shall not harm her. This is my child, and mine alone.”
He was so angry, the controlled anger that could emit fear into the bravest of souls. But none of it was directed at me. It was at all of my enemies. As His arms descended, the water parted into walls on all sides. His glare turned toward me, but when His eyes burned into my soul, I only saw tenderness, love, and forgiveness. Holding out His everlasting arms, He lifted me from the jowls of the demonic sea.
I did not question where He was taking me. Questioning His will is what got me into my mess in the first place. He took me to a place I did not recognize. I thought I would feel comfortable, but then I realized I was missing the point. This is where He wanted me, the center of His will. No harm could befall me. He was in control. He truly cared and wanted the best for me.
I could not resist asking Him the one question burning on my mind. “Why? I have let You down so many times, and I told You I didn’t need you? Why did you rescue me again?”
Gazing up into His fathomless peace, He whispered to my heart, “Because, I delight in You.”
~Psalm 18:4-19 NIV: "The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. The earth trembled and quaked, and the foundations of the mountains shook; they trembled because he was angry. Smoke rose from his nostrils; consuming fire came from his mouth, burning coals blazed out of it. He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under his feet. He mounted the cherubim and flew; he soared on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him- the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced, with hailstones and bolts of lightning. The Lord thundered from heaven; the voice of the Most High resounded. He shot his arrows and scattered the enemies, great bolts of lightning and routed them. The valleys of the sea were exposed and the foundations of the earth laid bare at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of breath from your nostrils. He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me."
Copyright 2006 Michelle Rocker
I was so gullible. I thought I knew what was best. Would I ever learn? How many chances did I have left? I lifted my face into the stinging rain. Was He up there? Did He care anymore?
The demons laughter grew louder. I covered my ears to shut them out. I slumped to the bottom of my little boat, and waited for my watery grave to claim me. The next wave hurled me to the top of its crest. It threw me into its depths; my little boat trembled, shook, and broke apart. I grabbed a broken plank and hung on for what was to be the last seconds of my life.
“God, are You there? Hey, it’s me. I messed up again. I’ve made a real mess of things this time. Do you see me? Don’t you see that I can’t win? This storm is too big for me. It’s my own fault, I know. I threw the compass overboard, oh and the map too. I didn’t think I needed it. Worse, I didn’t think I needed You. Can I still be Your child? Is it too late for me? DO YOU HEAR ME? I need you!”
One by one the demons crossed in front of my site. Their eyes played images of my demise. Hurling insults, degrading words – all correct – all deserved, right?
Unexpectedly, a booming crash of thunder blazed from the sky. The clouds parted and a streak of light bolted from the center. A beautiful luminosity, surrounded by angels descended. Clamped around the glimmering lightning bolt was a cloak of darkness that carried a storm far more severe then the one I was experiencing. How could something be so beautiful and terrifying all at the same time?
As the vision neared me, I realized the light was not a lightening bolt, but God himself coming down. He untied his cloak of darkness and flicked it toward the surging sea of ghouls. Hailstones, lightening, and wind-driven rain descended toward us all. I looped my arms around the board and covered my head as if to shield off the menacing insult. I heard the demon’s screaming in pain around me. Could I survive God’s wrath? I peaked and encountered all of God’s fury unleashed, but not an ounce of it was near me.
Astonished I watched arrows emanate from all around Him. A blast of fire discharged from his mouth, “You shall not harm her. This is my child, and mine alone.”
He was so angry, the controlled anger that could emit fear into the bravest of souls. But none of it was directed at me. It was at all of my enemies. As His arms descended, the water parted into walls on all sides. His glare turned toward me, but when His eyes burned into my soul, I only saw tenderness, love, and forgiveness. Holding out His everlasting arms, He lifted me from the jowls of the demonic sea.
I did not question where He was taking me. Questioning His will is what got me into my mess in the first place. He took me to a place I did not recognize. I thought I would feel comfortable, but then I realized I was missing the point. This is where He wanted me, the center of His will. No harm could befall me. He was in control. He truly cared and wanted the best for me.
I could not resist asking Him the one question burning on my mind. “Why? I have let You down so many times, and I told You I didn’t need you? Why did you rescue me again?”
Gazing up into His fathomless peace, He whispered to my heart, “Because, I delight in You.”
~Psalm 18:4-19 NIV: "The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. The earth trembled and quaked, and the foundations of the mountains shook; they trembled because he was angry. Smoke rose from his nostrils; consuming fire came from his mouth, burning coals blazed out of it. He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under his feet. He mounted the cherubim and flew; he soared on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him- the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced, with hailstones and bolts of lightning. The Lord thundered from heaven; the voice of the Most High resounded. He shot his arrows and scattered the enemies, great bolts of lightning and routed them. The valleys of the sea were exposed and the foundations of the earth laid bare at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of breath from your nostrils. He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me."
Copyright 2006 Michelle Rocker
8/19/10
Showoff
As a mother of four children, I have seen just a small portion of how God has made each one of us unique. As we are told, he knows the number of hairs on our head. He is a proud Papa to all of us. It is hard to imagine that He cares more about my children then I do, but He does, and apparently He knew I needed to understand that.
My second son just started middle school, the hardest time of a child’s life, in my opinion. I knew that my Nolan was going to be different. He is very emotional (like his mother). He has such a tender heart and struggles with anxiety. Add puberty, and I was nervous wreck about his first day. I planned a meeting in advance with his guidance counselor to alleviate a lot of his fears and concerns. The meeting went well. Both Nolan and I were feeling so much better. I was so proud of him entering the bus with his head held high for the first day of school.
When I picked him up from the bus stop, it only took two seconds to see a multitude of feelings and emotions on his sweet face – none of which comforted my mamma’s heart. I gripped the steering wheel, took a deep breath and asked.
On his FIRST day, in his SECOND class of the day, a boy sitting behind him wacked him across the neck for no apparent reason. He, of course, did not tell the teacher. My blood started to boil when he added that he had just been punched on the bus. Turns out a fight broke out between two boys sitting next to him and one of them “accidentally” punched him. I found myself not knowing how to respond, considering that the guidance counselor and myself, had just told him three days earlier, what a great school this was, and that he had no worries. I “calmly” asked him to tell the teacher and bus driver if this occurred again. My calm façade ended there. I blasted my infuriation on my Facebook status, but had the grace enough to ask for prayer as an after thought.
The next morning, he begged not to go on the bus, and I caved. I figured just dealing with a class bully would be enough for the day. I agreed to pick him up also. Dread covered every part of his face and posture. Once again, I could only come up with a lame comment about telling the teacher, and dropped him off feeling like an incompetent mother.
All day, I worried, and my stomach hurt. (Did I mention I’m like my son?) My last minute thought for prayer the previous day on Facebook forgotten, I worked and counted the hours till I picked him up.
I met a completely different Nolan as I pulled in to pick him up. He bounced in the car announcing that he loved all of his teachers. Not choosing to volunteer any more information. I waited, but couldn’t stand it. I had to ask.
As an after thought he nonchalantly answered, “Oh, yeah. He got moved. I’m sitting next to my best friend.”
As he happily chattered, I thought about my Facebook that needed a serious update. You see, all day long I kept getting comments of all the people praying for my son. I got home and changed my status knowing that God, the master storyteller, had just sold a best seller about how special we are to him. He could have just moved the bully, but he had gone one step further by handing Nolan a best friend.
I try to be the best parent I can, but as my kids grow, I’m having to learn that lesson, that they are God’s children that he gave to me, not the other way around. He designed and knows Nolan more then I ever could. I can’t be with Nolan all the time, but God walks beside him all day long. My prayers that night were uttered with a final name calling to Nolan’s heavenly Father: “Show-off.”
*Copyright 2009 Michelle Rocker
My second son just started middle school, the hardest time of a child’s life, in my opinion. I knew that my Nolan was going to be different. He is very emotional (like his mother). He has such a tender heart and struggles with anxiety. Add puberty, and I was nervous wreck about his first day. I planned a meeting in advance with his guidance counselor to alleviate a lot of his fears and concerns. The meeting went well. Both Nolan and I were feeling so much better. I was so proud of him entering the bus with his head held high for the first day of school.
When I picked him up from the bus stop, it only took two seconds to see a multitude of feelings and emotions on his sweet face – none of which comforted my mamma’s heart. I gripped the steering wheel, took a deep breath and asked.
On his FIRST day, in his SECOND class of the day, a boy sitting behind him wacked him across the neck for no apparent reason. He, of course, did not tell the teacher. My blood started to boil when he added that he had just been punched on the bus. Turns out a fight broke out between two boys sitting next to him and one of them “accidentally” punched him. I found myself not knowing how to respond, considering that the guidance counselor and myself, had just told him three days earlier, what a great school this was, and that he had no worries. I “calmly” asked him to tell the teacher and bus driver if this occurred again. My calm façade ended there. I blasted my infuriation on my Facebook status, but had the grace enough to ask for prayer as an after thought.
The next morning, he begged not to go on the bus, and I caved. I figured just dealing with a class bully would be enough for the day. I agreed to pick him up also. Dread covered every part of his face and posture. Once again, I could only come up with a lame comment about telling the teacher, and dropped him off feeling like an incompetent mother.
All day, I worried, and my stomach hurt. (Did I mention I’m like my son?) My last minute thought for prayer the previous day on Facebook forgotten, I worked and counted the hours till I picked him up.
I met a completely different Nolan as I pulled in to pick him up. He bounced in the car announcing that he loved all of his teachers. Not choosing to volunteer any more information. I waited, but couldn’t stand it. I had to ask.
As an after thought he nonchalantly answered, “Oh, yeah. He got moved. I’m sitting next to my best friend.”
As he happily chattered, I thought about my Facebook that needed a serious update. You see, all day long I kept getting comments of all the people praying for my son. I got home and changed my status knowing that God, the master storyteller, had just sold a best seller about how special we are to him. He could have just moved the bully, but he had gone one step further by handing Nolan a best friend.
I try to be the best parent I can, but as my kids grow, I’m having to learn that lesson, that they are God’s children that he gave to me, not the other way around. He designed and knows Nolan more then I ever could. I can’t be with Nolan all the time, but God walks beside him all day long. My prayers that night were uttered with a final name calling to Nolan’s heavenly Father: “Show-off.”
*Copyright 2009 Michelle Rocker
6/30/10
Simple Salvation
The plan of salvation is so simple. It is so easy that young children can comprehend it. Unfortunately, sometimes it gets complicated and not explained in the straight forward easy way that Christ designed.
The easiest way I can explain it is how my little five-year-old daughter came to accept Christ in her heart. We were on our way to drop her off at her Pre-K class. Every morning she prayed before we arrived. Her prayers were just adorable. It made me smile.
“Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Amen.”
If something happened at school that day, she would add it to her prayer the next morning.
“Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Help me not to play guns. Amen.”
The next day, “Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Help me not to play guns. Help me not get my name on the board. Amen.”
When I would pick her up, she would bounce into the van exclaiming how Jesus had helped her that day. Her innocent, unbendable faith was such a lesson for me.
One morning, we were headed to school, and right in the middle of her prayer, she asked me how did Jesus know how to help her. I explained that Jesus lives in our hearts, and asked her if Jesus lived in her heart. She said no, and expressed that she wanted to have Jesus live in her heart.
Being that her morning school prayer, and the “thank you for this food” prayer was all she knew, she said, “Mommy, can you help me pray it, ‘cause I don’t know what to say.”
I said, “Sure, honey. You repeat after me.”
I then prayed a prayer asking God to help me to pray in the simplest form. We started with her repeating each word.
“Dear, Jesus, I want you to come live in my heart. Help me to be a good girl. I don’t want to do bad things anymore. I love you, Jesus, and thank you for living in my heart.”
Tears fell as I heard her little voice, and glanced back to see her head down, her hands clasped, and the serious expression on her adorable face. After we finished, she looked up with shining eyes.
“Oh, Mommy, I’m so glad Jesus lives in my heart. That means he is with me all the time.”
I have had the pleasure of watching her put her complete hope in Jesus Christ.
Jesus gives us two simply spoken scriptures. They clearly state how to become a Christian.
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 NIV
But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness. 1 John 1:9 NLT
Believe. Ask. Receive. It is straightforward, direct, and complete with instant forgiveness. That is simple salvation.
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
The easiest way I can explain it is how my little five-year-old daughter came to accept Christ in her heart. We were on our way to drop her off at her Pre-K class. Every morning she prayed before we arrived. Her prayers were just adorable. It made me smile.
“Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Amen.”
If something happened at school that day, she would add it to her prayer the next morning.
“Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Help me not to play guns. Amen.”
The next day, “Dear Jesus, help me to be a good girl. Help me not to pee in my pants. Help me to clean up my center. Help me not to play guns. Help me not get my name on the board. Amen.”
When I would pick her up, she would bounce into the van exclaiming how Jesus had helped her that day. Her innocent, unbendable faith was such a lesson for me.
One morning, we were headed to school, and right in the middle of her prayer, she asked me how did Jesus know how to help her. I explained that Jesus lives in our hearts, and asked her if Jesus lived in her heart. She said no, and expressed that she wanted to have Jesus live in her heart.
Being that her morning school prayer, and the “thank you for this food” prayer was all she knew, she said, “Mommy, can you help me pray it, ‘cause I don’t know what to say.”
I said, “Sure, honey. You repeat after me.”
I then prayed a prayer asking God to help me to pray in the simplest form. We started with her repeating each word.
“Dear, Jesus, I want you to come live in my heart. Help me to be a good girl. I don’t want to do bad things anymore. I love you, Jesus, and thank you for living in my heart.”
Tears fell as I heard her little voice, and glanced back to see her head down, her hands clasped, and the serious expression on her adorable face. After we finished, she looked up with shining eyes.
“Oh, Mommy, I’m so glad Jesus lives in my heart. That means he is with me all the time.”
I have had the pleasure of watching her put her complete hope in Jesus Christ.
Jesus gives us two simply spoken scriptures. They clearly state how to become a Christian.
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 NIV
But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness. 1 John 1:9 NLT
Believe. Ask. Receive. It is straightforward, direct, and complete with instant forgiveness. That is simple salvation.
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
6/24/10
My Accuser
Why did I keep coming back? Why did I come here? Day after day I showed up knowing she would be here, accusing me. She would always be here, and I was unable to stay away. But today it was going to be different. I was going to let her know that God had forgiven me. I was going to face her.
”You,” she snarled while pointing her finger down at me. “Look at you. Who do you think you are? Look at me!”
I started shaking, incapable of looking up. She knew everything. All the horrible things I had ever done. She knew the worst about me, the BIG thing. She was not the type of woman to hold her tongue. She pierced my heart and spirit quicker then anyone else could.
”I saw you went to church the other day. What gives you the right to go there? Oh, and you volunteered to help out? Who would want your help? If they knew what kind of person you were, they would never let you do a single thing. I know what kind of person you are. The kind of person who screwed up! How could you do that? You are stupid, a complete idiot. Look at yourself. You can’t even look at me.”
I backed away. I could not listen anymore, but she was in my thoughts, her words pounded in my brain.
“Yeah, and you are supposed to be a Christian? Some Christian you are. You say that God forgave you. Uh huh, sure he did,” she snarled sarcastically.
I worked up my courage to speak. I hated the way she made me feel like a complete wimp. “Well, God d-d-did f-f-forgive me. It says so in his w-w-word.”
”Oh, I s-s-see!” She mimicked. My whole face turned red with embarrassment.
”Then why won’t you look at me,” she taunted. “You don’t even know who I am anymore, or who you are, do you?”
”Yes, I know who I am!” My whole body trembled, but I knew it was time. Time to face her and stand my ground. God had forgiven me. I sent a quick prayer toward heaven, took a deep breath, and began to speak with my eyes shut, my fist clenched.
”I am God’s child. In Him, I am a new creation. I’m not same girl that you accuse me of being. I asked God to forgive me and He threw my sin away into the sea of his forgetfulness. He remembers it no more. Only you remember! He doesn’t. It’s over.”
Silence. Where was she? I swallowed and opened my eyes. She had not uttered a word. As I raised my head, tears began pouring from my eyes. I looked into her face. She was crying too! No, that was me, crying. I was facing myself in a mirror. It had been me the whole time. I was the accuser, my own worst enemy.
I smiled at my reflection. Yes, I am the daughter of the Most High. My heart is clean and I can stand with my head high and a smile on my face. The guilt—that is what always makes me hang my head, but no more. I stand here knowing no stain remains of my sin. I stand here pure, confident, forgiven.
Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—you get a fresh start, your slate’s wiped clean. Count yourself lucky—God holds nothing against you and you’re holding nothing back from him. When I kept it all inside, my bones turned to powder, my words became daylong groans. The pressure never let up; all the juices of my life dried up. Then I let it all out; I said, “I’ll make a clean breast of my failures to God.” Suddenly the pressure was gone—my guilt dissolved, my sin disappeared.
~Psalms 32:1-5 MSG
*Copyright 2003 Michelle Rocker
”You,” she snarled while pointing her finger down at me. “Look at you. Who do you think you are? Look at me!”
I started shaking, incapable of looking up. She knew everything. All the horrible things I had ever done. She knew the worst about me, the BIG thing. She was not the type of woman to hold her tongue. She pierced my heart and spirit quicker then anyone else could.
”I saw you went to church the other day. What gives you the right to go there? Oh, and you volunteered to help out? Who would want your help? If they knew what kind of person you were, they would never let you do a single thing. I know what kind of person you are. The kind of person who screwed up! How could you do that? You are stupid, a complete idiot. Look at yourself. You can’t even look at me.”
I backed away. I could not listen anymore, but she was in my thoughts, her words pounded in my brain.
“Yeah, and you are supposed to be a Christian? Some Christian you are. You say that God forgave you. Uh huh, sure he did,” she snarled sarcastically.
I worked up my courage to speak. I hated the way she made me feel like a complete wimp. “Well, God d-d-did f-f-forgive me. It says so in his w-w-word.”
”Oh, I s-s-see!” She mimicked. My whole face turned red with embarrassment.
”Then why won’t you look at me,” she taunted. “You don’t even know who I am anymore, or who you are, do you?”
”Yes, I know who I am!” My whole body trembled, but I knew it was time. Time to face her and stand my ground. God had forgiven me. I sent a quick prayer toward heaven, took a deep breath, and began to speak with my eyes shut, my fist clenched.
”I am God’s child. In Him, I am a new creation. I’m not same girl that you accuse me of being. I asked God to forgive me and He threw my sin away into the sea of his forgetfulness. He remembers it no more. Only you remember! He doesn’t. It’s over.”
Silence. Where was she? I swallowed and opened my eyes. She had not uttered a word. As I raised my head, tears began pouring from my eyes. I looked into her face. She was crying too! No, that was me, crying. I was facing myself in a mirror. It had been me the whole time. I was the accuser, my own worst enemy.
I smiled at my reflection. Yes, I am the daughter of the Most High. My heart is clean and I can stand with my head high and a smile on my face. The guilt—that is what always makes me hang my head, but no more. I stand here knowing no stain remains of my sin. I stand here pure, confident, forgiven.
Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—you get a fresh start, your slate’s wiped clean. Count yourself lucky—God holds nothing against you and you’re holding nothing back from him. When I kept it all inside, my bones turned to powder, my words became daylong groans. The pressure never let up; all the juices of my life dried up. Then I let it all out; I said, “I’ll make a clean breast of my failures to God.” Suddenly the pressure was gone—my guilt dissolved, my sin disappeared.
~Psalms 32:1-5 MSG
*Copyright 2003 Michelle Rocker
6/22/10
God's Math
I ran a daycare out of my home during my twenties. I had my son and six other boys I watched full-time. One of the boys, Douglas was three years old. He was struggling with potty training. One day, I could tell he desperately needed to use the bathroom.
I said, “Douglas, do you have to go number one or number two?”
He looked up at me quizzically, so I explained what that meant. His whole countenance lit up with understanding.
He proudly announced, “I have to go number six!”
We aren’t much different then Douglas. We think we understand the math, but God shakes his head.
We exclaim, “I got it!” but we don’t.
In Matthew 17, we read about a desperate father who falls to His knees at Jesus feet, and begs Jesus to heal his demon-possessed son. Jesus’ disciples had not been able to heal him.
Jesus said, “What a generation! No sense of God! No focus to your lives! How many times do I have to go over these things? How much longer do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy here." (Luke 17:18-19, The Message).
Jesus then commanded the demon to come out and it was gone. Later in private the disciples asked him why they couldn’t heal the boy.
Jesus replied, “Because you have so little faith, I tell you the truth. If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Luke 17:20-21, NIV).
A mustard seed is about the same size as the periods in a sentence. Jesus says it just takes that tiny, miniscule amount of faith to move a mountain. While it adds up in Jesus mind, I confess that I am confused by the visual mathematics. Mustard seed of faith = a mountain moved. What? We think our faith has to equal the mountain of the situation. God says it only takes a mustard seed to move the mountain. Don’t worry about the math. Grasp that mustard seed then stand back and watch God move the mountain. Then see your faith grow.
*Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
I said, “Douglas, do you have to go number one or number two?”
He looked up at me quizzically, so I explained what that meant. His whole countenance lit up with understanding.
He proudly announced, “I have to go number six!”
We aren’t much different then Douglas. We think we understand the math, but God shakes his head.
We exclaim, “I got it!” but we don’t.
In Matthew 17, we read about a desperate father who falls to His knees at Jesus feet, and begs Jesus to heal his demon-possessed son. Jesus’ disciples had not been able to heal him.
Jesus said, “What a generation! No sense of God! No focus to your lives! How many times do I have to go over these things? How much longer do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy here." (Luke 17:18-19, The Message).
Jesus then commanded the demon to come out and it was gone. Later in private the disciples asked him why they couldn’t heal the boy.
Jesus replied, “Because you have so little faith, I tell you the truth. If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Luke 17:20-21, NIV).
A mustard seed is about the same size as the periods in a sentence. Jesus says it just takes that tiny, miniscule amount of faith to move a mountain. While it adds up in Jesus mind, I confess that I am confused by the visual mathematics. Mustard seed of faith = a mountain moved. What? We think our faith has to equal the mountain of the situation. God says it only takes a mustard seed to move the mountain. Don’t worry about the math. Grasp that mustard seed then stand back and watch God move the mountain. Then see your faith grow.
*Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
5/31/10
God Is Not Our Fairy Godmother
I love the story of Cinderella. A young girl, who longs for so many things, finds out she has a fairy godmother that will give her anything she wishes. More than once, I have wished for a fairy godmother with a magic wand! I find myself trying to put God in the role as my fairy godmother. I find scriptures that I see as a wish, and I wait for God to wave his magic wand.
For example: Philippians 4:19 (KJV): But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
There you go! There is the proof that God will give us whatever we want. After all, it even says he is rich, but there is one word in there that says it all: "needs."
My twelve and nine year old boys always “need” the latest sixty dollar game from Game Stop. It is completely different when they need some new pants because they have outgrown their others. They do not see it from a parent’s perspective. They see it as a selfish, little child wanting things they don’t need, and needing things they don’t want. That is exactly the way God looks at us.
Matthew 17:11(NIV) says, If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
As parents we want to give good gifts to our children (emphasis on “good”). If my sons or daughters want candy or caffeine, we have to monitor it. If it is 8:00 at night, it isn’t a good idea. If they had asked for an apple or banana, we would have handed it over immediately.
We make the assumption that the gift we are asking God for is good, but he has our best interest at heart. What we may be asking for is not bad, but it is not what is best for us.
So, how do we pray with the right heart and motives? The best way to pray is to use the examples God gives us in His word.
Right before Jesus goes to the cross, he prays. Matthew 11:42 (NIV): He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."
He prayed this prayer three times, but the answer was no. Jesus completely understands our frustrations when we pray, and it is answered no. Even Jesus, had to believe that God sees the big picture.
The more and more I pray about something I’m desperate about, the more I add, “your will be done.” I do not know about the future. God does! It only makes sense that I pray that way. Otherwise I am praying out of ignorance.
A fairy godmother gives you your wants and desires, but God gives you what is best for you. Armed with confidence that God is not our fairy godmother, but our Heavenly Father, we can learn to trust him for every need and want we have. He will always give us exactly what we need according to His will rather then what we want.
There is also a small well-known fact with Cinderella’s godmother. Everything changed back at midnight. God doesn’t have a time clock. Once He gives, it is there forever with no conditions attached!
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
For example: Philippians 4:19 (KJV): But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
There you go! There is the proof that God will give us whatever we want. After all, it even says he is rich, but there is one word in there that says it all: "needs."
My twelve and nine year old boys always “need” the latest sixty dollar game from Game Stop. It is completely different when they need some new pants because they have outgrown their others. They do not see it from a parent’s perspective. They see it as a selfish, little child wanting things they don’t need, and needing things they don’t want. That is exactly the way God looks at us.
Matthew 17:11(NIV) says, If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
As parents we want to give good gifts to our children (emphasis on “good”). If my sons or daughters want candy or caffeine, we have to monitor it. If it is 8:00 at night, it isn’t a good idea. If they had asked for an apple or banana, we would have handed it over immediately.
We make the assumption that the gift we are asking God for is good, but he has our best interest at heart. What we may be asking for is not bad, but it is not what is best for us.
So, how do we pray with the right heart and motives? The best way to pray is to use the examples God gives us in His word.
Right before Jesus goes to the cross, he prays. Matthew 11:42 (NIV): He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."
He prayed this prayer three times, but the answer was no. Jesus completely understands our frustrations when we pray, and it is answered no. Even Jesus, had to believe that God sees the big picture.
The more and more I pray about something I’m desperate about, the more I add, “your will be done.” I do not know about the future. God does! It only makes sense that I pray that way. Otherwise I am praying out of ignorance.
A fairy godmother gives you your wants and desires, but God gives you what is best for you. Armed with confidence that God is not our fairy godmother, but our Heavenly Father, we can learn to trust him for every need and want we have. He will always give us exactly what we need according to His will rather then what we want.
There is also a small well-known fact with Cinderella’s godmother. Everything changed back at midnight. God doesn’t have a time clock. Once He gives, it is there forever with no conditions attached!
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
5/23/10
The Ugliest Cat
Stimpy was not your typical cat. She is one of the ugliest cats I have ever seen. My parents did not like cats, so as soon as I got married, my husband and I knew we would get a cat right away. I watched the newspaper religiously.
One Sunday there was a listing for five kittens being sold for five dollars each. I called and got directions and ran up to the place. By the time I got there, there were only two cats left, and there was a man in front of me trying to decide if he wanted a kitten or not. He was holding a beautiful silver haired kitten that had white markings on its face. I looked down at the last kitten in the box and wrinkled my nose in disgust. She was primarily black, but mixed with horrible yellow and orange all throughout. The end result was not pretty. Her tail was not only short, but it was crooked from being slammed in a door. I started praying that the man would decide against the beautiful silver cat, but he eventually decided to take it.
I had been waiting for a cat for three months. I crouched down beside the box. She meowed and it was a screeching awful sound. As I put my hand in the box, she proved to be quite unfriendly. Suddenly, I felt incredibly sorry for her. If I didn’t take her, no one else would and she would end up being euthanized. I couldn’t stand the thought of that, no matter how ugly she was.
After five minutes, I decided to take the cat. The owner’s seemed quite surprised. I held her in my arms the whole way home.
When I walked in the house and proudly presented the cat to my husband he said, “What in the world is that?”
“It’s a cat,” I stated.
“But it is the ugliest cat I have ever seen.”
”Yeah, that’s why I took her, well, and plus she was the last one left.”
My husband just shook his head.
“Let’s call her ‘Stimpy,’ you know after the ‘Ren & Stimpy Show.’ It fits her whacked out tail.”
Over the next few months, she hid most of the time, but would come out for food. We were scratched numerous times trying to hold her. But, eventually she endured our petting.
We moved to a new house, which upset her greatly, and we got another cat who was “normal.” Stimpy completely ignored him.
When I was five months pregnant, she used to crawl on my stomach and knead it. She loved to curl around it as if protecting it. But my husband is who she adored. When he came home, she was in his lap purring loudly so that he would pet her. We would have friends over and that put her in a bad mood. She only liked us. Kids would want to pet her, but she would have none of it. She would hiss and fling her claws. As soon as the company left, she would reappear to have affection from my husband and I.
The only other person Stimpy loved was my mother. The funny thing about it is that my mother hates cats, and I do mean HATES! It was as if Stimpy knew, and just wanted to bug her. Stimpy would rub up against my mother’s leg, and my mother would leap away as if she was a poisonous snake. If my mom sat down, she would jump on her lap. Mom finally would pet her a couple of times and then push her down. Stimpy walked away like a queen, with a slight sway in her hips, as if to say, “HA!”
A few years later, we noticed that she was vomiting, and having accidents outside of the litter box. She would stay hidden in the closet for days. We tried different foods, but it quickly became apparent that something more extensive was going on.
The day came when she was so weak, that there was nothing else we could do. We hated seeing her in pain and knew it would be better to euthanize her, then have her suffer.
My husband and I drove to the animal pound, and my husband refused to go in. He just didn’t want to see it.
I on the other hand, wanted her to die with someone she loved holding her. The animal shelter agreed. I sat her in my lap, and petted her until her purr rumbled against my legs. The technician came forward, and injected the shot. I let my tears flow unchecked down my cheeks. I whispered to her how beautiful she was, thanked her for being a part of our lives, and how I would miss her. I petted her until she was dead, and then sobs took over.
The story of Stimpy has always stayed with me. There were so many lessons that I learned in her short life. If I had disregarded her because of her outward appearance, I would have missed all the joy that she poured into our lives.
Copyright 2009 Michelle Rocker
One Sunday there was a listing for five kittens being sold for five dollars each. I called and got directions and ran up to the place. By the time I got there, there were only two cats left, and there was a man in front of me trying to decide if he wanted a kitten or not. He was holding a beautiful silver haired kitten that had white markings on its face. I looked down at the last kitten in the box and wrinkled my nose in disgust. She was primarily black, but mixed with horrible yellow and orange all throughout. The end result was not pretty. Her tail was not only short, but it was crooked from being slammed in a door. I started praying that the man would decide against the beautiful silver cat, but he eventually decided to take it.
I had been waiting for a cat for three months. I crouched down beside the box. She meowed and it was a screeching awful sound. As I put my hand in the box, she proved to be quite unfriendly. Suddenly, I felt incredibly sorry for her. If I didn’t take her, no one else would and she would end up being euthanized. I couldn’t stand the thought of that, no matter how ugly she was.
After five minutes, I decided to take the cat. The owner’s seemed quite surprised. I held her in my arms the whole way home.
When I walked in the house and proudly presented the cat to my husband he said, “What in the world is that?”
“It’s a cat,” I stated.
“But it is the ugliest cat I have ever seen.”
”Yeah, that’s why I took her, well, and plus she was the last one left.”
My husband just shook his head.
“Let’s call her ‘Stimpy,’ you know after the ‘Ren & Stimpy Show.’ It fits her whacked out tail.”
Over the next few months, she hid most of the time, but would come out for food. We were scratched numerous times trying to hold her. But, eventually she endured our petting.
We moved to a new house, which upset her greatly, and we got another cat who was “normal.” Stimpy completely ignored him.
When I was five months pregnant, she used to crawl on my stomach and knead it. She loved to curl around it as if protecting it. But my husband is who she adored. When he came home, she was in his lap purring loudly so that he would pet her. We would have friends over and that put her in a bad mood. She only liked us. Kids would want to pet her, but she would have none of it. She would hiss and fling her claws. As soon as the company left, she would reappear to have affection from my husband and I.
The only other person Stimpy loved was my mother. The funny thing about it is that my mother hates cats, and I do mean HATES! It was as if Stimpy knew, and just wanted to bug her. Stimpy would rub up against my mother’s leg, and my mother would leap away as if she was a poisonous snake. If my mom sat down, she would jump on her lap. Mom finally would pet her a couple of times and then push her down. Stimpy walked away like a queen, with a slight sway in her hips, as if to say, “HA!”
A few years later, we noticed that she was vomiting, and having accidents outside of the litter box. She would stay hidden in the closet for days. We tried different foods, but it quickly became apparent that something more extensive was going on.
The day came when she was so weak, that there was nothing else we could do. We hated seeing her in pain and knew it would be better to euthanize her, then have her suffer.
My husband and I drove to the animal pound, and my husband refused to go in. He just didn’t want to see it.
I on the other hand, wanted her to die with someone she loved holding her. The animal shelter agreed. I sat her in my lap, and petted her until her purr rumbled against my legs. The technician came forward, and injected the shot. I let my tears flow unchecked down my cheeks. I whispered to her how beautiful she was, thanked her for being a part of our lives, and how I would miss her. I petted her until she was dead, and then sobs took over.
The story of Stimpy has always stayed with me. There were so many lessons that I learned in her short life. If I had disregarded her because of her outward appearance, I would have missed all the joy that she poured into our lives.
Copyright 2009 Michelle Rocker
5/9/10
A Mother's Love
Mother’s Perspective:
I threw up for eight and half months.
I cried and was an emotional basket case.
My bones ached from the inside out.
I did it all for you.
I gave up a good night’s sleep.
I fed and bathed you.
I dressed you beautifully.
I did it all for you.
I dried your tears and calmed your fears.
I kissed your hurts and smiled at your antics.
I loved you like no one else could.
I did it all for you.
Today, I asked myself if it was worth it.
One look at you sleeping peacefully,
Wrapped in my arms, I knew…
I would do it over and over,
I did it all for you.
Heavenly Father’s Perspective:
I placed you in your mother’s womb.
I knew what a blessing you would be.
I shaped you into my own image.
I did it all for you.
I knew that you would cause me pain,
But I still loved you like no one else could.
I have supplied your every need.
I did it all for you.
I dried your tears and calmed your fears.
I held you quietly in my arms when you were hurt.
I did it all for you.
Today, I asked myself if it was worth it.
One look at you sleeping peacefully,
Wrapped in my love, I knew…
I would do it over for eternity,
I did it all for you.
You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them!
~Psalm 139:15-17 MSG
I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
~Psalm 8:38-40 MSG
Copyright 2004 Michelle Rocker
I threw up for eight and half months.
I cried and was an emotional basket case.
My bones ached from the inside out.
I did it all for you.
I gave up a good night’s sleep.
I fed and bathed you.
I dressed you beautifully.
I did it all for you.
I dried your tears and calmed your fears.
I kissed your hurts and smiled at your antics.
I loved you like no one else could.
I did it all for you.
Today, I asked myself if it was worth it.
One look at you sleeping peacefully,
Wrapped in my arms, I knew…
I would do it over and over,
I did it all for you.
Heavenly Father’s Perspective:
I placed you in your mother’s womb.
I knew what a blessing you would be.
I shaped you into my own image.
I did it all for you.
I knew that you would cause me pain,
But I still loved you like no one else could.
I have supplied your every need.
I did it all for you.
I dried your tears and calmed your fears.
I held you quietly in my arms when you were hurt.
I did it all for you.
Today, I asked myself if it was worth it.
One look at you sleeping peacefully,
Wrapped in my love, I knew…
I would do it over for eternity,
I did it all for you.
You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them!
~Psalm 139:15-17 MSG
I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
~Psalm 8:38-40 MSG
Copyright 2004 Michelle Rocker
5/3/10
The Sea of Forigiveness
I have discovered that I am very jealous of God’s ability to forgive. I try to forgive, but it in no way compares to Him. I forgive, but I will always remember. I also know from experience that it inevitably changes my relationship with that person even though I have forgiven them.
God says, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” (Isaiah 43:25, NIV)
That amazes me. This great God, who created the universe, who stands outside of time, whose mind and ways we will never understand, knows the number of hairs on my head, this God, is able to COMPLETELY forget our sins.
Jesus knew the only way, we as humans, could forgive was to do it over and over. In Matthew 18, Peter, one of Jesus’ disciples asked how many times he had to forgive someone who had done him wrong. “Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” (Matthew 18:22, NIV) God knows we are not capable of forgiving like He is.
Forgiving ourselves is the hardest person to forgive. Finding out how God forgives me submerges me in what it is to experience forgiveness. Through a wonderful Bible study leader, I discovered how completely God forgives with two scriptures: Micah 7:19 and Revelations 21:1.
“You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.” (Micah 7:19, NIV)
Then God, knowing how human and defective we are, gives us an additional confirmation that he truly does not remember. He supplies us with an extra promise in Revelations 21:1 talking about when we are living in the new heaven and new earth.
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.” (NIV)
I sat there and cried in disbelief that God would go that far to let us know the power of His forgiveness. He doesn’t need to get rid of the sea—He doesn’t remember what is in there, but He knows that we do. I believe when He gets rid of that tumultuous sea of sins, we will finally have no memory of our sins or the memory of people that we have continually tried to forgive. For the first time, we will experience the true power of understanding complete forgiveness.
Forgive, forgive, forgive. It isn’t a one time spoken word and done. It will require us to forgive over and over again—that offense/sin—until we are in heaven and there is no longer a sea for us to remember.
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
God says, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” (Isaiah 43:25, NIV)
That amazes me. This great God, who created the universe, who stands outside of time, whose mind and ways we will never understand, knows the number of hairs on my head, this God, is able to COMPLETELY forget our sins.
Jesus knew the only way, we as humans, could forgive was to do it over and over. In Matthew 18, Peter, one of Jesus’ disciples asked how many times he had to forgive someone who had done him wrong. “Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” (Matthew 18:22, NIV) God knows we are not capable of forgiving like He is.
Forgiving ourselves is the hardest person to forgive. Finding out how God forgives me submerges me in what it is to experience forgiveness. Through a wonderful Bible study leader, I discovered how completely God forgives with two scriptures: Micah 7:19 and Revelations 21:1.
“You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.” (Micah 7:19, NIV)
Then God, knowing how human and defective we are, gives us an additional confirmation that he truly does not remember. He supplies us with an extra promise in Revelations 21:1 talking about when we are living in the new heaven and new earth.
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.” (NIV)
I sat there and cried in disbelief that God would go that far to let us know the power of His forgiveness. He doesn’t need to get rid of the sea—He doesn’t remember what is in there, but He knows that we do. I believe when He gets rid of that tumultuous sea of sins, we will finally have no memory of our sins or the memory of people that we have continually tried to forgive. For the first time, we will experience the true power of understanding complete forgiveness.
Forgive, forgive, forgive. It isn’t a one time spoken word and done. It will require us to forgive over and over again—that offense/sin—until we are in heaven and there is no longer a sea for us to remember.
Copyright 2008 Michelle Rocker
4/19/10
Get Real*
Silence is so loud sometimes. The need to scream presses in, but I am unable to break the trance in which I find myself. I am walking and smiling and waving at people I know, and people walk and smile and wave back. They think they know me. If they could look into the window of my soul, they would run when they saw the turbulent thoughts and raging temptations lying beneath my surface. Knowing when to respond and the time to utter the right answers is second nature. I deserve an Oscar for my daily performance. Afraid to share the real me, I learned to act the way they wanted. They directed my performance, without ever knowing I was performing the part that they wanted me to play. People want to observe the smile and ignore the pain. Glimpse the twinkle, but overlook the tear. Hear the laugh, but hush the cry. So, that is what I give them: the me they want to see, not the me that’s me.
But, You, I have discovered, You are different. Even if I smile, you observe the pain. If you see the twinkle, You know it is a tear about to fall. You not only want to hear me laugh, but You want to listen to my cries. Embracing my uncontrolled emotions, You delight in my weakness, and become my strength. No one in the world embraces weakness, but You. You know the unlovely parts of me, and yet You still love me. There is no need for formalities, just the realization that You love me for me. For a long time, I thought if I found somebody who knew everything about me, they would run the other way. You ran all right—straight for me, arms open wide. It is only in looking through Your eyes that I discover the beauty within me. That beauty is You. When the windows of my soul have You looking out, that inner glow draws people. That is when I am seen as a beautiful woman created in Your image, because I know that You make all things beautiful, and that includes me.
People don’t want to know the real, they want the performance. You, however, want the real, and not the performance. That being said, I am getting real. This is the real me. The girl who covets, cheats, slanders, lusts, and lies. But this same girl begs your forgiveness, for falling short of Your glory. This girl wants You to shed Your illuminating light in my darkness. No more pretending with You—because it’s pointless, and no more pretending with other’s—because now I know. Those people walking, smiling, and waving are also performing. They are locked into that infinite, deafening silence. Live within me. When I open myself up to others, I want them to see You shining through. Help me to show them what’s real: You.
*Copyright 2003 Michelle Rocker
But, You, I have discovered, You are different. Even if I smile, you observe the pain. If you see the twinkle, You know it is a tear about to fall. You not only want to hear me laugh, but You want to listen to my cries. Embracing my uncontrolled emotions, You delight in my weakness, and become my strength. No one in the world embraces weakness, but You. You know the unlovely parts of me, and yet You still love me. There is no need for formalities, just the realization that You love me for me. For a long time, I thought if I found somebody who knew everything about me, they would run the other way. You ran all right—straight for me, arms open wide. It is only in looking through Your eyes that I discover the beauty within me. That beauty is You. When the windows of my soul have You looking out, that inner glow draws people. That is when I am seen as a beautiful woman created in Your image, because I know that You make all things beautiful, and that includes me.
People don’t want to know the real, they want the performance. You, however, want the real, and not the performance. That being said, I am getting real. This is the real me. The girl who covets, cheats, slanders, lusts, and lies. But this same girl begs your forgiveness, for falling short of Your glory. This girl wants You to shed Your illuminating light in my darkness. No more pretending with You—because it’s pointless, and no more pretending with other’s—because now I know. Those people walking, smiling, and waving are also performing. They are locked into that infinite, deafening silence. Live within me. When I open myself up to others, I want them to see You shining through. Help me to show them what’s real: You.
*Copyright 2003 Michelle Rocker
4/17/10
The Pity Pot*
I seem to love the “pity pot,” and I know a lot of people, like me, who spend a lot of time there. And yes, I’m going to go there… How deep is that ring around your butt?
Sometimes life brings so many things at once, that finally even one silly thing pushes you over the edge. That is when I break out that ‘ole “pity pot” and plop down.
I started a recovery program to deal with my issues in September 2007. For three weeks all I did was whine to everyone. I whined about the medical issues that three of my kids were going through. I whined about too much month at the end of the money. I whined that we probably were not going to get to take the kids on a little vacation to Disney World for just one day. We live two hours away from Disney, so it would be a cheap vacation. However, we couldn’t even afford that. I whined about my husband and I arguing about the issues. But the thing that pushed me over the edge was that my “enter/return key” on my laptop broke. As a writer, this button is VERY important. I called the computer repair store. They couldn’t just fix the key. They had to replace the whole keyboard for a whopping $150.00. I stuck my butt on that “pity pot,” and whined and cried. I told God how unfair all this was. How dare he put me through so much?
I called my sponsor to tell her my tales of woe, and rather then “ooing” and “aweing” with me, she told me to get off the “pity pot.” I was so offended, even though she was right. So, I decided to gain sympathy elsewhere.
I went to my Wednesday night group, and whined away. As I left, embarrassment began to enter my consciousness. They were probably sick to death of my whining. I know I get tired when someone else is whining away over and over. That picture of me on that “pity pot” became embarrassing.
Two weeks later, I walked into Thursday small groups. My favorite shoes (you know the ones you throw on all the time) broke. I twisted my ankle. At this point, I was like “whatever.” Things going wrong were following me everywhere. I had decided I was sick of hearing myself whine. I’m sure there were many friends of mine that were grateful also. I shared with the group, I was officially off the pity pot, and whenever God decided to work things out, I would just trust Him. Even though I still sported the “ring around my butt,” I was determined to not to return.
That night, I left to go to Wal-Mart to attempt to find a pair of shoes that were just as comfortable. I tried various shoes on, and finally picked one. I figured I should look at the price: $6.50. I just smiled knowing that God was taking care of me. I moved on to the section where the CD-R’s were that I needed to pick up. Right beside them were attachments for your laptop. Low and behold, there hung a numbers keypunch with an “enter key!” The price: $12.88.
God had just waited for me to surrender my will, and get off the “pity pot.” I called my girlfriends, and we shouted the praise, not just for the new “enter key,” but for my surrender.
I typed this story in 2008. It was the first thing I wrote with my new “enter key.” I did this on purpose, because I always want to remember this lesson. The “pity pot” gets you nowhere. Getting off it, allows God to MOVE!
I’m sure there will be times that I will want to sit back down. But, I don’t plan on staying there long enough to get the ring around my butt!
*Copyright 2008 by Michelle Rocker
Sometimes life brings so many things at once, that finally even one silly thing pushes you over the edge. That is when I break out that ‘ole “pity pot” and plop down.
I started a recovery program to deal with my issues in September 2007. For three weeks all I did was whine to everyone. I whined about the medical issues that three of my kids were going through. I whined about too much month at the end of the money. I whined that we probably were not going to get to take the kids on a little vacation to Disney World for just one day. We live two hours away from Disney, so it would be a cheap vacation. However, we couldn’t even afford that. I whined about my husband and I arguing about the issues. But the thing that pushed me over the edge was that my “enter/return key” on my laptop broke. As a writer, this button is VERY important. I called the computer repair store. They couldn’t just fix the key. They had to replace the whole keyboard for a whopping $150.00. I stuck my butt on that “pity pot,” and whined and cried. I told God how unfair all this was. How dare he put me through so much?
I called my sponsor to tell her my tales of woe, and rather then “ooing” and “aweing” with me, she told me to get off the “pity pot.” I was so offended, even though she was right. So, I decided to gain sympathy elsewhere.
I went to my Wednesday night group, and whined away. As I left, embarrassment began to enter my consciousness. They were probably sick to death of my whining. I know I get tired when someone else is whining away over and over. That picture of me on that “pity pot” became embarrassing.
Two weeks later, I walked into Thursday small groups. My favorite shoes (you know the ones you throw on all the time) broke. I twisted my ankle. At this point, I was like “whatever.” Things going wrong were following me everywhere. I had decided I was sick of hearing myself whine. I’m sure there were many friends of mine that were grateful also. I shared with the group, I was officially off the pity pot, and whenever God decided to work things out, I would just trust Him. Even though I still sported the “ring around my butt,” I was determined to not to return.
That night, I left to go to Wal-Mart to attempt to find a pair of shoes that were just as comfortable. I tried various shoes on, and finally picked one. I figured I should look at the price: $6.50. I just smiled knowing that God was taking care of me. I moved on to the section where the CD-R’s were that I needed to pick up. Right beside them were attachments for your laptop. Low and behold, there hung a numbers keypunch with an “enter key!” The price: $12.88.
God had just waited for me to surrender my will, and get off the “pity pot.” I called my girlfriends, and we shouted the praise, not just for the new “enter key,” but for my surrender.
I typed this story in 2008. It was the first thing I wrote with my new “enter key.” I did this on purpose, because I always want to remember this lesson. The “pity pot” gets you nowhere. Getting off it, allows God to MOVE!
I’m sure there will be times that I will want to sit back down. But, I don’t plan on staying there long enough to get the ring around my butt!
*Copyright 2008 by Michelle Rocker
4/15/10
The Flower
A seed was planted in the ground.
Soon a tiny proof of life appeared.
The stem pushed through the soil.
The bud of a flower bloomed.
Amazing, remarkable, marvelous.
Time worked its wonder.
The flower bloomed.
It blossomed and grew.
True beauty immerging from dirt.
Beautiful, innocent, vulnerable.
The flower was planted in danger.
No protection was around it.
It’s petals were plucked one by one.
It struggled to stay alive.
Sad, unfair, unjust.
Then the gardener came.
He carefully dug around the struggling flower.
He lifted it out of the path where it was planted.
He placed it in his protection.
Broken, gloomy, hopeless.
He coaxed the flower into the new soil.
It struggled, he watered it.
It drooped, he held it up.
It gave up, he fed it.
Hopeful, encouraging, promising.
The flower grew stronger.
It learned to stretch toward the sun.
It thirsted for the water.
It grew and grew, taller and taller.
Better, bigger, recovered.
The gardener admired his little bloom.
The bloom had blossomed.
No longer limited to one flower,
It was a rose bush covered with blooms.
Miraculous, phenomenal, astounding.
It was beauty from ashes.
Copyright 2005 by Michelle Rocker
Soon a tiny proof of life appeared.
The stem pushed through the soil.
The bud of a flower bloomed.
Amazing, remarkable, marvelous.
Time worked its wonder.
The flower bloomed.
It blossomed and grew.
True beauty immerging from dirt.
Beautiful, innocent, vulnerable.
The flower was planted in danger.
No protection was around it.
It’s petals were plucked one by one.
It struggled to stay alive.
Sad, unfair, unjust.
Then the gardener came.
He carefully dug around the struggling flower.
He lifted it out of the path where it was planted.
He placed it in his protection.
Broken, gloomy, hopeless.
He coaxed the flower into the new soil.
It struggled, he watered it.
It drooped, he held it up.
It gave up, he fed it.
Hopeful, encouraging, promising.
The flower grew stronger.
It learned to stretch toward the sun.
It thirsted for the water.
It grew and grew, taller and taller.
Better, bigger, recovered.
The gardener admired his little bloom.
The bloom had blossomed.
No longer limited to one flower,
It was a rose bush covered with blooms.
Miraculous, phenomenal, astounding.
It was beauty from ashes.
Copyright 2005 by Michelle Rocker
4/14/10
God's Lay-z-boy*
How do you react when an unexpected experience lands in your lap? How do you keep going when you are completely overwhelmed? When do you let your burdens weigh you down until you feel you can’t handle anymore? There is an answer. Once you learn this secret, you will know how to handle anything that comes your way.
I went to meet a friend at Starbucks for us to catch up and talk about the Bible study class we were in. We settled in with our coffee and no idea what was about to happen. Her cell phone rang and I excused myself to the bathroom. All of the sudden, I heard her screaming and crying. I hurried out of the bathroom to see her wailing while hanging onto her phone. I was able to pick up that her son had just been in a horrible car accident. He was in the process of being air lifted to the hospital with head injuries. We had no idea which hospital he was headed to, and no more information was given. My friend was hysterical, and I stood there with no idea what to do. In that moment I concluded, all we had to rely on was God.
I stopped her and grabbed both of her hands and said, “Let’s pray.”
I immediately witnessed the calming effect. We put our heads together and started furiously dialing information and police headquarters to try to figure out where her son was. Within fifteen minutes we had the name of the hospital and the phone number. He was in critical condition, but the doctors said he was going to make it.
When you find yourself in a difficult situation, recline in God’s lazy-boy. You will be amazed when you watch God at work, rather then you. My friend’s son was ejected out the front window. The car rolled five times and stopped right beside his body. God protected this child before we ever uttered a prayer. We found out after the fact, but God knew all along.
We all have burdens that fly into our lives unexpectantly. The secret is crawling into God’s lazy-boy and trusting him to handle your burdens. It is hard to do, but we cannot control our circumstances, no matter how hard we try. It is futile.
One of my mentors is a lady I greatly admire. She has three sons, and two out of the three are drug addicts. They have been in countless rehab centers and in and out of hospitals. Before they discovered how much they were enabling and trying to save them on their own, they had to file bankruptcy. Just last year, she was forced to remove her three grandchildren from the dangerous situation. During the same time, her mother became very ill, and had to be put in a nursing home. Her and her husband handle all of this with very demanding jobs. She shared during one of her devotionals that she wakes up and tells God she cannot do it, but sets up and hands everything over to God. If you met her, you would have no idea of all the pain and chaos in her life. She has a contagious smile and laugh that she uses often. She always makes time for anyone that needs her, even the smallest thing. I have asked her many times, how do you do it?
She simply says, “I don’t.”
She knows how to live in God’s lazy-boy. She utilizes the scripture, Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV) where Jesus says: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
If this was an infomercial, I would say, “Order God’s lazy-boy today. It is completely free, and no shipping is required. It can be delivered to your door immediately. It is guaranteed for the rest of your life. You will be amazed at how relaxed you feel as you sit reclining, when everything around you might be whirling like a tornado of chaos. The only warning is that once you sit in this chair, you will find yourself spending a lot of time there.”
*Published by Faithwebbin
I went to meet a friend at Starbucks for us to catch up and talk about the Bible study class we were in. We settled in with our coffee and no idea what was about to happen. Her cell phone rang and I excused myself to the bathroom. All of the sudden, I heard her screaming and crying. I hurried out of the bathroom to see her wailing while hanging onto her phone. I was able to pick up that her son had just been in a horrible car accident. He was in the process of being air lifted to the hospital with head injuries. We had no idea which hospital he was headed to, and no more information was given. My friend was hysterical, and I stood there with no idea what to do. In that moment I concluded, all we had to rely on was God.
I stopped her and grabbed both of her hands and said, “Let’s pray.”
I immediately witnessed the calming effect. We put our heads together and started furiously dialing information and police headquarters to try to figure out where her son was. Within fifteen minutes we had the name of the hospital and the phone number. He was in critical condition, but the doctors said he was going to make it.
When you find yourself in a difficult situation, recline in God’s lazy-boy. You will be amazed when you watch God at work, rather then you. My friend’s son was ejected out the front window. The car rolled five times and stopped right beside his body. God protected this child before we ever uttered a prayer. We found out after the fact, but God knew all along.
We all have burdens that fly into our lives unexpectantly. The secret is crawling into God’s lazy-boy and trusting him to handle your burdens. It is hard to do, but we cannot control our circumstances, no matter how hard we try. It is futile.
One of my mentors is a lady I greatly admire. She has three sons, and two out of the three are drug addicts. They have been in countless rehab centers and in and out of hospitals. Before they discovered how much they were enabling and trying to save them on their own, they had to file bankruptcy. Just last year, she was forced to remove her three grandchildren from the dangerous situation. During the same time, her mother became very ill, and had to be put in a nursing home. Her and her husband handle all of this with very demanding jobs. She shared during one of her devotionals that she wakes up and tells God she cannot do it, but sets up and hands everything over to God. If you met her, you would have no idea of all the pain and chaos in her life. She has a contagious smile and laugh that she uses often. She always makes time for anyone that needs her, even the smallest thing. I have asked her many times, how do you do it?
She simply says, “I don’t.”
She knows how to live in God’s lazy-boy. She utilizes the scripture, Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV) where Jesus says: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
If this was an infomercial, I would say, “Order God’s lazy-boy today. It is completely free, and no shipping is required. It can be delivered to your door immediately. It is guaranteed for the rest of your life. You will be amazed at how relaxed you feel as you sit reclining, when everything around you might be whirling like a tornado of chaos. The only warning is that once you sit in this chair, you will find yourself spending a lot of time there.”
*Published by Faithwebbin
4/12/10
God Is Not Our Fairy Godmother*
I love the story of Cinderella. A young girl, who longs for so many things, finds out she has a fairy godmother that will give her anything she wishes. More than once, I have wished for a fairy godmother with a magic wand! I find myself trying to put God in the role as my fairy godmother. I find scriptures that I see as a wish, and I wait for God to wave his magic wand.
For example: Philippians 4:19 (KJV): But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
There you go! There is the proof that God will give us whatever we want. After all, it even says he is rich. At a closer look God says, “needs,” not wants.
My twelve and nine year old boys always “need” the latest sixty dollar game from Game Stop. It is completely different when they need some new pants because they have outgrown their others. They do not see it from a parent’s perspective. They see it as a selfish, little child wanting things they don’t need, and needing things they don’t want. That is exactly the way God looks at us.
Matthew 17:11(NIV) says, If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
As parents we want to give good gifts to our children (emphasis on “good”). If my sons or daughters want candy or caffeine, we have to monitor it. If it is 8:00 at night, it isn’t a good idea. If they had asked for an apple or banana, we would have handed it over immediately.
We make the assumption that the gift we are asking God for is good, but he has our best interest at heart. What we may be asking for is not bad, but it is not what is best for us.
So, how do we pray with the right heart and motives? The best way to pray is to use the examples God gives us in His word.
Right before Jesus goes to the cross, he prays. Matthew 11:42 (NIV): He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."
He prayed this prayer three times, but the answer was no. Jesus completely understands our frustrations when we pray, and it is answered no. Even Jesus, had to believe that God sees the big picture.
The more and more I pray about something I’m desperate about, the more I add, “your will be done.” I do not know about the future. God does! It only makes sense that I pray that way. Otherwise I am praying out of ignorance.
A fairy godmother gives you your wants and desires, but God gives you what is best for you. Armed with confidence that God is not our fairy godmother, but our Heavenly Father, we can learn to trust him for every need and want we have. He will always give us exactly what we need according to His will rather then what we want. There is also a small well-known fact with Cinderella’s godmother. Everything changed back at midnight. God doesn’t have a time clock. Once He gives, it is there forever with no conditions attached!
*Published in Christian OL Magazine and The Lookout
For example: Philippians 4:19 (KJV): But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
There you go! There is the proof that God will give us whatever we want. After all, it even says he is rich. At a closer look God says, “needs,” not wants.
My twelve and nine year old boys always “need” the latest sixty dollar game from Game Stop. It is completely different when they need some new pants because they have outgrown their others. They do not see it from a parent’s perspective. They see it as a selfish, little child wanting things they don’t need, and needing things they don’t want. That is exactly the way God looks at us.
Matthew 17:11(NIV) says, If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
As parents we want to give good gifts to our children (emphasis on “good”). If my sons or daughters want candy or caffeine, we have to monitor it. If it is 8:00 at night, it isn’t a good idea. If they had asked for an apple or banana, we would have handed it over immediately.
We make the assumption that the gift we are asking God for is good, but he has our best interest at heart. What we may be asking for is not bad, but it is not what is best for us.
So, how do we pray with the right heart and motives? The best way to pray is to use the examples God gives us in His word.
Right before Jesus goes to the cross, he prays. Matthew 11:42 (NIV): He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."
He prayed this prayer three times, but the answer was no. Jesus completely understands our frustrations when we pray, and it is answered no. Even Jesus, had to believe that God sees the big picture.
The more and more I pray about something I’m desperate about, the more I add, “your will be done.” I do not know about the future. God does! It only makes sense that I pray that way. Otherwise I am praying out of ignorance.
A fairy godmother gives you your wants and desires, but God gives you what is best for you. Armed with confidence that God is not our fairy godmother, but our Heavenly Father, we can learn to trust him for every need and want we have. He will always give us exactly what we need according to His will rather then what we want. There is also a small well-known fact with Cinderella’s godmother. Everything changed back at midnight. God doesn’t have a time clock. Once He gives, it is there forever with no conditions attached!
*Published in Christian OL Magazine and The Lookout
4/10/10
Whatsoever Friends*
Friends come in and out of your lives
Very few remain in your hearts forever.
Which friends remain?
The Ones who will do whatsoever
Whenever you need to endeavor
To achieve whichever goal
Or overcome whatever problem
However much time it takes.
They never say never.
They make you better.
Those are the friends
Who are together forever.
*Published in The Storyteller and The Christian Journal
Dedicated to Bill and Sandy...my "whatsoever friends."
Very few remain in your hearts forever.
Which friends remain?
The Ones who will do whatsoever
Whenever you need to endeavor
To achieve whichever goal
Or overcome whatever problem
However much time it takes.
They never say never.
They make you better.
Those are the friends
Who are together forever.
*Published in The Storyteller and The Christian Journal
Dedicated to Bill and Sandy...my "whatsoever friends."
4/9/10
My Official Storybook Grandma*
I spent most of my young life never having what I thought was a typical, storybook grandma. My dad's mother never lived close enough and my mom's mother died before I was born.
At the age of 16, I met my future husband. From the beginning, Mike talked about his grandma that lived next door. She allowed him, his three brothers, and sister to raid the refrigerator. She defended them ruthlessly. The more he shared, the more jealous I became.
One year later, Mike invited me to his home for Thanksgiving. I was so excited until I found out I was going to be staying with the famous Grandma Reba. It was common knowledge that she had not liked most of my husband's girlfriends. I promised myself that I would not talk too much (impossible), swore I would not laugh to loud (sure), but most of all I was hoping she would love me.
I arrived and met his family, and then we walked across the street. I was more nervous about meeting Grandma Reba than anyone else. As soon as we entered, I felt the atmosphere change. Family pictures filled shelves. Homemade crocheted afghans dotted the living room furniture. Next to her chair was a basket filled with her current afghan project and crochet hooks. A tiny lady, standing around five feet with curly gray hair and incredibly thick eyeglasses, greeted us. She hugged Mike, and I could feel her eyes moving over me. All I could think was please like me! She greeted me warmly, and I began blabbing. She listened and smiled.
When Grandma Reba was able to interject, told me that she would show me my room. She opened the door and inside was a bed draped in one of her homemade afghans. She apologized for the room being so small, and then asked me what I would like for breakfast. Desperate to please, I told her anything was fine. Of course true to form, I had to elaborate: "eggs, bacon, sausage, cereal, bagel, orange juice, coffee, anything really." She smiled at my nervous chatter, and said "okay." We watched one of her favorite shows (I think it was Wheel of Fortune), and then she went to bed. I loved her, and was certain she hated me because I had not shut up since she met me.
The next morning I was greeted by delicious breakfast smells. As I walked into the kitchen, I saw the table loaded with all the breakfast foods I had named. She stood at the skillet frying some bacon. I asked her if everyone else was coming over. She smiled and said, "No, honey. It's all for you." For the first time since meeting her, I was speechless. After falling into my chair in shock, I glanced up.
"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.
I told her I would never be able to eat all of this and how I would be too fat for Mike to date and what a sweetheart she was and how I couldn't believe she did it--obviously, I had found my tongue. She laughed, and asked me what I wanted tomorrow. I told her cereal, coffee and orange juice was all.
After our visit, I knew I had experienced a storybook grandma. I was now as much of a fan of Grandma Reba as her own grandkids. During the next year, I wrote her some letters and sent her one of my graduation pictures.
The following year, Mike moved to Alaska where I lived and we got engaged. We decided to spend Christmas in New York that year with his family. I decided to purchase my wedding dress there so that his mom, sister and grandma would feel more included in the preparations. Unfortunately, Grandma Reba could not go with us. When I greeted her this second time, it was as if she had shrunk. It was more obvious that her curly gray hair was a wig, her thick glasses looked thicker, and she had lost more of her hearing. It was hard to believe she was the same person, but she still had prepared my room, and each morning I woke up to cereal, orange juice, and coffee--she remembered!
One evening while visiting with her, she got up to go bed. She lost her balance and fell into the Christmas tree and knocked it over. Mike and his brother helped her up and teased her about drinking too much. She laughed, but we all knew that something was not right.
I bought my wedding dress, and tried it on for her. I sang her the songs we would be singing at the wedding, and she cried. She told me how she wished she could come. I begged, but she said she would never be able to make a 15-hour flight. She bragged that I was going to be a beautiful bride. I told her I couldn't wait till we got married, and she was my official grandma. For Christmas that year, she gave me an afghan that she crocheted just for me. Two months after we left, and six months before we got married, she died.
We received a box of things that she wanted us to have. Apparently, knowing that her time was short, she spent her last months walking around her house, writing people's names on the things she wanted them to have.
Our trophies were a corner shelf that Mike had made for her in shop class, a picture that Mike had always loved, and my graduation picture that she had placed in a frame on one of her shelves. It was then that I realized she had told me in a very special way that she was my official grandma. Only family pictures were kept on her shelves. I was part of her family. I fell in love with her, but even better, she fell in love with me.
*Published in Chicken Soup for the Grandma's Soul and Braveheart
At the age of 16, I met my future husband. From the beginning, Mike talked about his grandma that lived next door. She allowed him, his three brothers, and sister to raid the refrigerator. She defended them ruthlessly. The more he shared, the more jealous I became.
One year later, Mike invited me to his home for Thanksgiving. I was so excited until I found out I was going to be staying with the famous Grandma Reba. It was common knowledge that she had not liked most of my husband's girlfriends. I promised myself that I would not talk too much (impossible), swore I would not laugh to loud (sure), but most of all I was hoping she would love me.
I arrived and met his family, and then we walked across the street. I was more nervous about meeting Grandma Reba than anyone else. As soon as we entered, I felt the atmosphere change. Family pictures filled shelves. Homemade crocheted afghans dotted the living room furniture. Next to her chair was a basket filled with her current afghan project and crochet hooks. A tiny lady, standing around five feet with curly gray hair and incredibly thick eyeglasses, greeted us. She hugged Mike, and I could feel her eyes moving over me. All I could think was please like me! She greeted me warmly, and I began blabbing. She listened and smiled.
When Grandma Reba was able to interject, told me that she would show me my room. She opened the door and inside was a bed draped in one of her homemade afghans. She apologized for the room being so small, and then asked me what I would like for breakfast. Desperate to please, I told her anything was fine. Of course true to form, I had to elaborate: "eggs, bacon, sausage, cereal, bagel, orange juice, coffee, anything really." She smiled at my nervous chatter, and said "okay." We watched one of her favorite shows (I think it was Wheel of Fortune), and then she went to bed. I loved her, and was certain she hated me because I had not shut up since she met me.
The next morning I was greeted by delicious breakfast smells. As I walked into the kitchen, I saw the table loaded with all the breakfast foods I had named. She stood at the skillet frying some bacon. I asked her if everyone else was coming over. She smiled and said, "No, honey. It's all for you." For the first time since meeting her, I was speechless. After falling into my chair in shock, I glanced up.
"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.
I told her I would never be able to eat all of this and how I would be too fat for Mike to date and what a sweetheart she was and how I couldn't believe she did it--obviously, I had found my tongue. She laughed, and asked me what I wanted tomorrow. I told her cereal, coffee and orange juice was all.
After our visit, I knew I had experienced a storybook grandma. I was now as much of a fan of Grandma Reba as her own grandkids. During the next year, I wrote her some letters and sent her one of my graduation pictures.
The following year, Mike moved to Alaska where I lived and we got engaged. We decided to spend Christmas in New York that year with his family. I decided to purchase my wedding dress there so that his mom, sister and grandma would feel more included in the preparations. Unfortunately, Grandma Reba could not go with us. When I greeted her this second time, it was as if she had shrunk. It was more obvious that her curly gray hair was a wig, her thick glasses looked thicker, and she had lost more of her hearing. It was hard to believe she was the same person, but she still had prepared my room, and each morning I woke up to cereal, orange juice, and coffee--she remembered!
One evening while visiting with her, she got up to go bed. She lost her balance and fell into the Christmas tree and knocked it over. Mike and his brother helped her up and teased her about drinking too much. She laughed, but we all knew that something was not right.
I bought my wedding dress, and tried it on for her. I sang her the songs we would be singing at the wedding, and she cried. She told me how she wished she could come. I begged, but she said she would never be able to make a 15-hour flight. She bragged that I was going to be a beautiful bride. I told her I couldn't wait till we got married, and she was my official grandma. For Christmas that year, she gave me an afghan that she crocheted just for me. Two months after we left, and six months before we got married, she died.
We received a box of things that she wanted us to have. Apparently, knowing that her time was short, she spent her last months walking around her house, writing people's names on the things she wanted them to have.
Our trophies were a corner shelf that Mike had made for her in shop class, a picture that Mike had always loved, and my graduation picture that she had placed in a frame on one of her shelves. It was then that I realized she had told me in a very special way that she was my official grandma. Only family pictures were kept on her shelves. I was part of her family. I fell in love with her, but even better, she fell in love with me.
*Published in Chicken Soup for the Grandma's Soul and Braveheart
4/8/10
Make A Joyful Noise*
I was at a Worship conference in 2007. It was incredible to listen to that crowd of musicians praise and worship God.
On the second day of the conference praise and worship session, I stood next to a man that sang loud and about an eighth of a tone off pitch. I was so distracted, I couldn’t sing worship or praise God. (I thought)
God has a way of tapping you on the shoulder when you are not focused on the right thing. Frustrated, I turned and felt myself get whapped across the head with a two by four. His hands were lifted to heaven, eyes closed, and worship was pouring out of him for his Savior. Completely humbled, God allowed me to hear his voice as He heard it. It was beautiful. God was listening to the worship, not the voice.
When Matt Redman wrote “Heart of Worship,” I think I understood that song for the first time. It fits with the scripture: Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands. (Psalm 66:1 KJV)
Musicians sing and worry about the correctness of the notes, and singing on key. God “worries” about the worship. Don’t misunderstand, God has made people that sing on pitch, and musicians that play amazingly and they are there to help the church by leading in worship. While people might be looking at them, God is looking at all the hearts on stage and off. I love standing next to people who can't sing. It truly does come from their heart.
I joined in with the worship, and sang as loudly as him. I’m sure my pitch was affected, but I didn’t care. I was giving God my heart.
*Published in War Cry and Evangel
On the second day of the conference praise and worship session, I stood next to a man that sang loud and about an eighth of a tone off pitch. I was so distracted, I couldn’t sing worship or praise God. (I thought)
God has a way of tapping you on the shoulder when you are not focused on the right thing. Frustrated, I turned and felt myself get whapped across the head with a two by four. His hands were lifted to heaven, eyes closed, and worship was pouring out of him for his Savior. Completely humbled, God allowed me to hear his voice as He heard it. It was beautiful. God was listening to the worship, not the voice.
When Matt Redman wrote “Heart of Worship,” I think I understood that song for the first time. It fits with the scripture: Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands. (Psalm 66:1 KJV)
Musicians sing and worry about the correctness of the notes, and singing on key. God “worries” about the worship. Don’t misunderstand, God has made people that sing on pitch, and musicians that play amazingly and they are there to help the church by leading in worship. While people might be looking at them, God is looking at all the hearts on stage and off. I love standing next to people who can't sing. It truly does come from their heart.
I joined in with the worship, and sang as loudly as him. I’m sure my pitch was affected, but I didn’t care. I was giving God my heart.
*Published in War Cry and Evangel
4/7/10
You Know How Kids Are*
Written in 2004...
Finding out I was pregnant with my fourth child has been interesting, especially experiencing it from my sons' view points. My two year old daughter simply points to my stomach and says "baby," but the boys have some serious questions and observations. The subject of fat stomachs seems to be their favorite.
On the way to a doctor's appointment, the subject came up again. Brett, my 8 year old, pulled up his shirt, and said, "See, Mom, I have a fat stomach."
To which I responded, "No, you don't, honey."
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's because I suck it in like this."
He pulled up the back of his shirt and sucked in his breath.
"It pushes the fat into my back. See? That way no one knows I'm fat."
Great theory, but unfortunately all my stomach muscles are shot after carrying the fourth one, and my back has too much fat already as it is. But I told him I was happy it worked for him.
Six year old Nolan watched and started giggling. "But, Brett's tummy isn't fat like Mommy's tummy."
"No, Nolan," I responded with clenched teeth, "it isn't like Mommy's. But that is because Mommy is going to have a baby, right?"
"Oh, yeah," he said.
Well, by the time we walked into the doctor's office, I was feeling quite pudgy, and was anxious to get this over with. The boys' regular doctor was not in, so they had to see a substitute. He walked in, and was great with the kids. The boys laughed and teased with him. Just as the doctor was fixing to leave, I saw Nolan staring at the doctor's pot belly.
"Please, God, no!" I thought, but oh yes.
Before I could get to Nolan, he walked right up to the doctor and patted his belly.
"Say, you have a fat tummy, too."
Nolan smiled up at the doctor.
I was frozen, red-faced, and speechless. Gulping loudly, I walked over to Nolan, and pulled him away from patting the doctor's belly.
"You, uh, have to understand, uh, that I'm pregnant, so there has been lots of talk about tummies," I stuttered.
Rolling my eyes, I continued, valiantly trying to think of something brilliant or funny to say, but all I came up with was, "You know how kids are."
The doctor laughed and said he had three of his own.
He then proceeded to pat Nolan's head and say, "You know, I could stand to lose a little weight, huh?"
I frantically grabbed Nolan's shoulder and squeezed as he nodded his head. Let's just say, I made it out of the doctor's office in record time with three children. They received stickers for their fabulous behavior which they all promptly put on their belly buttons. Too bad I didn't have those in advance--I would have placed them on their mouths!
*Previously published in The Christian Journal
Finding out I was pregnant with my fourth child has been interesting, especially experiencing it from my sons' view points. My two year old daughter simply points to my stomach and says "baby," but the boys have some serious questions and observations. The subject of fat stomachs seems to be their favorite.
On the way to a doctor's appointment, the subject came up again. Brett, my 8 year old, pulled up his shirt, and said, "See, Mom, I have a fat stomach."
To which I responded, "No, you don't, honey."
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's because I suck it in like this."
He pulled up the back of his shirt and sucked in his breath.
"It pushes the fat into my back. See? That way no one knows I'm fat."
Great theory, but unfortunately all my stomach muscles are shot after carrying the fourth one, and my back has too much fat already as it is. But I told him I was happy it worked for him.
Six year old Nolan watched and started giggling. "But, Brett's tummy isn't fat like Mommy's tummy."
"No, Nolan," I responded with clenched teeth, "it isn't like Mommy's. But that is because Mommy is going to have a baby, right?"
"Oh, yeah," he said.
Well, by the time we walked into the doctor's office, I was feeling quite pudgy, and was anxious to get this over with. The boys' regular doctor was not in, so they had to see a substitute. He walked in, and was great with the kids. The boys laughed and teased with him. Just as the doctor was fixing to leave, I saw Nolan staring at the doctor's pot belly.
"Please, God, no!" I thought, but oh yes.
Before I could get to Nolan, he walked right up to the doctor and patted his belly.
"Say, you have a fat tummy, too."
Nolan smiled up at the doctor.
I was frozen, red-faced, and speechless. Gulping loudly, I walked over to Nolan, and pulled him away from patting the doctor's belly.
"You, uh, have to understand, uh, that I'm pregnant, so there has been lots of talk about tummies," I stuttered.
Rolling my eyes, I continued, valiantly trying to think of something brilliant or funny to say, but all I came up with was, "You know how kids are."
The doctor laughed and said he had three of his own.
He then proceeded to pat Nolan's head and say, "You know, I could stand to lose a little weight, huh?"
I frantically grabbed Nolan's shoulder and squeezed as he nodded his head. Let's just say, I made it out of the doctor's office in record time with three children. They received stickers for their fabulous behavior which they all promptly put on their belly buttons. Too bad I didn't have those in advance--I would have placed them on their mouths!
*Previously published in The Christian Journal
4/6/10
Whine*
Do you serve whine when things don't go your way?
Or do you serve it when things are OK?
Maybe aged whine is more your style.
You have years worth stored in your vile.
Soured properly, years passed from the plucked vine,
At just the right time, you pop the cork of whine.
Gallons served without an ounce of tenderness,
A long-winded sermon fueled by bitterness.
No one wishes to dine on this whine,
Sour and bitter, the worst moonshine.
So, all you who serve whine pay attention!
Whine is quite an addicting addiction.
Zip those lips when you wish to complain,
And as for the whine, you should abstain.
*published in Evangel, The Gem, and Believer's Bay E-zine
Or do you serve it when things are OK?
Maybe aged whine is more your style.
You have years worth stored in your vile.
Soured properly, years passed from the plucked vine,
At just the right time, you pop the cork of whine.
Gallons served without an ounce of tenderness,
A long-winded sermon fueled by bitterness.
No one wishes to dine on this whine,
Sour and bitter, the worst moonshine.
So, all you who serve whine pay attention!
Whine is quite an addicting addiction.
Zip those lips when you wish to complain,
And as for the whine, you should abstain.
*published in Evangel, The Gem, and Believer's Bay E-zine
4/2/10
First Impressions Count*
The lesson in this is pretty obvious...
My cousin Casi agreed to watch my children for me, while I went to a lunch meeting. To thank her, I went by Starbucks to get her a drink. I thought I remembered that she didn’t like coffee, so I ordered a caramel, apple cider. I pulled up to the window, and the cashier informed me that they were out of apple cider. I said that it was okay, and changed my order to a mocha. As I handed my credit card to the cashier, she handed me a coupon.
“This is good for a free drink on us, any time you want it. You would not believe how many people have yelled at us today.”
“Really?” I asked.
The manager then told me how awful customers had been, and how much they appreciated my willingness to accept the problem of the lack of apple cider. Then they both proceeded to tell me what a nice person I was. I will admit that I left Starbucks with a giant smile on my face. I even puffed my chest out because of my astounding demonstration of a patient, accommodating citizen.
A few days later, I went to the bank. There was only one other car in the drive-thru in the farthest lane from the teller. I pulled right up to the spot next to the window. The teller never even looked up.
I thought, surely she can see me, but she just continued to count her money.
I watched the other car leave, and another car pull up.
I sighed and thought, any minute now.
That car left, and I began to feel inpatient hives starting to break out on my neck.
Finally, she looked up and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
Yeah, uh huh, sure, I thought.
She opened the tray, and I placed my deposit in the tray, and she pulled it back in. My jaw sagged open as I watched her walk away from the window without my deposit. The third car drove away, replaced by the fourth car. My inpatient hives had taken over my entire body. I swear you could have seen smoke coming out of my ears. She came back to the window, and still did not take my deposit out of the tray! She proceeded to count some more money. By then the other teller servicing her FIFTH car, looked at me quizzically. I cannot repeat the thoughts that then filled my brain. With huge willpower, I clamped my lips together.
My mamma always said, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
After ten minutes, this, ummm… “teller,” finally took my deposit. As she deposited my receipt into the tray, I had reached my boiling point. I violently grabbed the receipt out of the tray squishing it into a wad, as if it was her head, and hit the gas of my minivan as hard as I could. Apparently not just muscle cars can do burnouts. The satisfying sound echoed off all of the walls of the drive through. At that moment, my conscience tickled my brain.
I yelled back, “She deserved it. That is ridiculous, taking ten minutes to process a measly deposit.” Mockingly, I continued, “She ‘didn’t see me.’ Yeah, right!”
A few days later, I had a rough day with my kids. Near the Starbucks, I knew I deserved to use my free coupon. I ordered my favorite: a venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha, with whip cream. (I know that the whip cream cancels out the non-fat part, but it makes me feel skinnier.) As I pulled up to the window, I handed the cashier my little gift card.
She said, “Oh, that’s nice.”
I smiled, and explained how I had earned the gift certificate by my startling display of politeness.
The manager peeked her head out, and said, “Oh, I remember this lady. She was so sweet. We had run out of apple cider, and she said it was not a big deal and changed her order. We had been yelled at all day.”
I flashed my dazzling white smile, and nodded my head like a queen. Yes, I was a walking example of a patient, accommodating citizen. As I pulled out from the drive thru, I proceeded to choke on my venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha with whip cream.
“Too bad they didn’t see you at the drive thru at the bank the other day,” whispered my conscience.
My free mocha didn’t taste as good anymore. I bowed my head and repented. I managed to have grace enough to blush and be completely embarrassed.
We only get one chance to make a first impression. I don’t know what the bank teller had to do that was more important than my little deposit. I could have asked nicely, and to be honest, I wasn’t even in a hurry. Who knows how much she was having to get done, or if she had a deadline. I was only concerned with myself.
These incidences completely flip-flopped the way I treat the pizza delivery guy, nail technician, the UPS delivery man, the cashier, and—oh yeah—the bank teller!
*published by Evangel, The Gem, and The Standard
My cousin Casi agreed to watch my children for me, while I went to a lunch meeting. To thank her, I went by Starbucks to get her a drink. I thought I remembered that she didn’t like coffee, so I ordered a caramel, apple cider. I pulled up to the window, and the cashier informed me that they were out of apple cider. I said that it was okay, and changed my order to a mocha. As I handed my credit card to the cashier, she handed me a coupon.
“This is good for a free drink on us, any time you want it. You would not believe how many people have yelled at us today.”
“Really?” I asked.
The manager then told me how awful customers had been, and how much they appreciated my willingness to accept the problem of the lack of apple cider. Then they both proceeded to tell me what a nice person I was. I will admit that I left Starbucks with a giant smile on my face. I even puffed my chest out because of my astounding demonstration of a patient, accommodating citizen.
A few days later, I went to the bank. There was only one other car in the drive-thru in the farthest lane from the teller. I pulled right up to the spot next to the window. The teller never even looked up.
I thought, surely she can see me, but she just continued to count her money.
I watched the other car leave, and another car pull up.
I sighed and thought, any minute now.
That car left, and I began to feel inpatient hives starting to break out on my neck.
Finally, she looked up and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
Yeah, uh huh, sure, I thought.
She opened the tray, and I placed my deposit in the tray, and she pulled it back in. My jaw sagged open as I watched her walk away from the window without my deposit. The third car drove away, replaced by the fourth car. My inpatient hives had taken over my entire body. I swear you could have seen smoke coming out of my ears. She came back to the window, and still did not take my deposit out of the tray! She proceeded to count some more money. By then the other teller servicing her FIFTH car, looked at me quizzically. I cannot repeat the thoughts that then filled my brain. With huge willpower, I clamped my lips together.
My mamma always said, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
After ten minutes, this, ummm… “teller,” finally took my deposit. As she deposited my receipt into the tray, I had reached my boiling point. I violently grabbed the receipt out of the tray squishing it into a wad, as if it was her head, and hit the gas of my minivan as hard as I could. Apparently not just muscle cars can do burnouts. The satisfying sound echoed off all of the walls of the drive through. At that moment, my conscience tickled my brain.
I yelled back, “She deserved it. That is ridiculous, taking ten minutes to process a measly deposit.” Mockingly, I continued, “She ‘didn’t see me.’ Yeah, right!”
A few days later, I had a rough day with my kids. Near the Starbucks, I knew I deserved to use my free coupon. I ordered my favorite: a venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha, with whip cream. (I know that the whip cream cancels out the non-fat part, but it makes me feel skinnier.) As I pulled up to the window, I handed the cashier my little gift card.
She said, “Oh, that’s nice.”
I smiled, and explained how I had earned the gift certificate by my startling display of politeness.
The manager peeked her head out, and said, “Oh, I remember this lady. She was so sweet. We had run out of apple cider, and she said it was not a big deal and changed her order. We had been yelled at all day.”
I flashed my dazzling white smile, and nodded my head like a queen. Yes, I was a walking example of a patient, accommodating citizen. As I pulled out from the drive thru, I proceeded to choke on my venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha with whip cream.
“Too bad they didn’t see you at the drive thru at the bank the other day,” whispered my conscience.
My free mocha didn’t taste as good anymore. I bowed my head and repented. I managed to have grace enough to blush and be completely embarrassed.
We only get one chance to make a first impression. I don’t know what the bank teller had to do that was more important than my little deposit. I could have asked nicely, and to be honest, I wasn’t even in a hurry. Who knows how much she was having to get done, or if she had a deadline. I was only concerned with myself.
These incidences completely flip-flopped the way I treat the pizza delivery guy, nail technician, the UPS delivery man, the cashier, and—oh yeah—the bank teller!
*published by Evangel, The Gem, and The Standard
4/1/10
Worry? Why?*
When my son Nolan was nine, I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. With no insurance, we were faced with close to thirty thousand dollars in debt. Money was for necessities ONLY.
Nolan had a lego that he wanted. We had sat down with the kids after I got out of the hospital and explained that they wouldn't be able to get some of the things they wanted until we got some money. After a month of not getting his lego, Nolan wandered downstairs and asked when we would have enough money to buy it. I hung my head and told him it would be awhile.
He said, “Well, mom, I guess I’m just going to have to pray for a miracle, ‘cause that is the only way it can happen.”
I told him that was a good idea, but was nervous that his faith would be affected when it didn’t happen. How was a nine year old little boy going to earn and receive money. His birthday was seven months away. Christmas was still four months away. I just didn’t see how.
An hour later, I was still fretting and stewing over the issue. There was a knock on my door. It was my neighbor. She asked if Nolan could babysit their bird and dog. She was going to pay him. And you guessed it! It was the exact amount of money he needed to buy his lego.
When I called Nolan downstairs and told him that his miracle had just been answered. He wasn’t in awe like I was. He knew God would take care of him.
He just said, "yep," and smiled.
God knew what his little heart desired, and he took of HIS little boy.
Let me share some of my favorite verses found in the Bible in the book of Matthew, chapter 28.
Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow.If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and gone tomorrow, will he not much more clothe you? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
This is where I should tell you about the thirty thousand dollar hospital bill. Somebody paid it. To this day, I don't know who.
Worry? Why? God's got it covered, even if all you "need" is a lego.
*portions of this story were published in The Gem, Purpose, War Cry, Believers Bay E-zine, and Christian OL E-zine.
Nolan had a lego that he wanted. We had sat down with the kids after I got out of the hospital and explained that they wouldn't be able to get some of the things they wanted until we got some money. After a month of not getting his lego, Nolan wandered downstairs and asked when we would have enough money to buy it. I hung my head and told him it would be awhile.
He said, “Well, mom, I guess I’m just going to have to pray for a miracle, ‘cause that is the only way it can happen.”
I told him that was a good idea, but was nervous that his faith would be affected when it didn’t happen. How was a nine year old little boy going to earn and receive money. His birthday was seven months away. Christmas was still four months away. I just didn’t see how.
An hour later, I was still fretting and stewing over the issue. There was a knock on my door. It was my neighbor. She asked if Nolan could babysit their bird and dog. She was going to pay him. And you guessed it! It was the exact amount of money he needed to buy his lego.
When I called Nolan downstairs and told him that his miracle had just been answered. He wasn’t in awe like I was. He knew God would take care of him.
He just said, "yep," and smiled.
God knew what his little heart desired, and he took of HIS little boy.
Let me share some of my favorite verses found in the Bible in the book of Matthew, chapter 28.
Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow.If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and gone tomorrow, will he not much more clothe you? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
This is where I should tell you about the thirty thousand dollar hospital bill. Somebody paid it. To this day, I don't know who.
Worry? Why? God's got it covered, even if all you "need" is a lego.
*portions of this story were published in The Gem, Purpose, War Cry, Believers Bay E-zine, and Christian OL E-zine.
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