He is risen indeed

Have a Blessed Resurrection Day.  Happy Easter from Mama’s Empty Nest.

Dance with me

At a college dance in 1975

Just a few notes of a song from my youth ring through the air and I can name that tune.  Music always sticks in my mind.

And it does something else – it transports me back in time.  When I hear a familiar tune and commence singing along with the words, a kind of magic descends.  My surroundings fade away and it’s almost like I’m immersed in a time machine. 

Years, even decades, melt away and there I am.  Transported to the past, reliving a memory.  And all because of a song.

I experienced a little time travel while driving to work the other day.  Often I drive in silence with the car radio switched off.  I don’t listen to talk shows.  I don’t even listen to music stations very often although I do love music. 

I imagine after all of those years of being the ‘mom taxi’ and driving three kids and friends around while listening to chatter and loud disagreements from the back seat, I relish the quietness of just me and my auto.

But the other day, I switched on the car radio and a classic rock station sprang to life.  I moseyed down the highway singing, “big girls don’t cry” anticipating the next fun song from the past. 

The first couple of notes sounded and instantly my time machine, doubling as a car radio, transported me back in time to my college days.

The song was Dance With Me by the group Orleans.  I used to own that record album and I loved that song. 

Dance with me, I want to be your partner
Can’t you see the music is just starting?
Night is falling, and I am calling
Dance with me

Middle daughter & son-in-law

As I sang along with the lyrics, I recalled dancing to that song with my college sweetheart, who is now my husband of 35 years.  We were young, we were in love, but we weren’t the greatest dancers. 

Dance inspires and moves me when I watch others interpret music with their bodies.  I can remember wanting to be a dancer as a kid.  Gliding on tip toe through the house, I pretended I was a ballerina. Or I danced and pranced like a go-go girl with dances called the Monkey, the Jerk, the Swim, or the Pony.

But I never was a very good dancer.  Enter boyfriend/husband, who was even more of a non-dancer than I was. 

Son & daughter-in-law

My husband listens to music every day, but his sense of rhythm when it comes to dancing leaves something to be desired.  He knows it, he jokes about it, and he’s never been a confident dancer by any stretch of the imagination.

But that song…dance with me. 

Fantasy could never be so giving
I feel free, I hope that you are willing
Pick the beat up, and kick your feet up
Dance with me

Oh, how we danced to that song.  I recall the way his arms held me tightly and even though we just swayed, moving in a tight little circle to the music, it was heavenly. 

Listening to that song in my car reminded me of the first taste of real, true love.  My mind jumped to thoughts of my grown-up children dancing with their own true loves at their weddings last year.

Oldest daughter & son-in-law

Let it lift you off the ground
Starry eyes, and love is all around
I can take you where you want to go

But then, the words of that old song from my youth suddenly transformed into new meaning for me.  I thought about true love and my first real true love – my relationship with Jesus.

As much as I love my husband, my children, my family and friends, my first love is for my Savior.  My dance partner for life. 

Thinking that over, I suddenly pictured myself in the arms of Jesus, my Lord. I could hear Him whisper the words of the song, even though they aren’t scripture.  I could imagine Him singing these lyrics to me.

And today, on this best day of the year, I wonder.  Can you hear Him sing these words to you?  Have you chosen Him as your life’s dance partner?

Dance with me, I want to be your partner
Can’t you see the music is just starting?
Night is falling, and I am calling
Dance with me

Let it lift you off the ground
Starry eyes, and love is all around
I can take you where you want to go

Dance with me, I want to be your partner
Can’t you see the music is just starting?
Night is falling, and I am calling
Dance with me

Dance with me

Dance with me.

©2013 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

These boots (or shoes) were made for walking

It’s odd to be thinking about new shoes when lately all I have been wearing are boots.

Wearing shoes outside this last week or so would just result in wet feet since my home is still encased in a snow globe world.

So shoes, old or new, haven’t really been on my mind.  Until today, when I realized I needed to write about new shoes.

Over the weekend, I yanked a pair of boots on yet again when hubby and I ventured out shopping.   I actually looked at a pair of shoes on the sale rack, but then dismissed the idea of buying them because: a.  I really didn’t need them;  b.  boots adorn my feet when I’m going anywhere this time of year since it’s snowy, icy, or just plain cold outside;  and c.  they weren’t that cute.

I didn’t think about shoes again until yesterday. Cue the new shoes reference.

During worship at our little country church, a choir member sang a solo entitled New Shoes.  As I listened to the song lyrics, “So I’ve made my reservation for my final destination, I’m changing my location to my mansion in the sky; gonna wear me some new clothes, bright shiny white robes, walk ’round in new shoes getting ready to move,” an idea popped into my head.

I found myself thinking about new shoes and wondering if really we would even need shoes in heaven.  I mean, who knows?  There are references to some form of white garments in the Bible, but I can’t find anything scriptural about having shoes in heaven, new or otherwise.

Now I am aware that for some people getting new shoes is heaven, and that some shoe stores named Shoe Heaven actually exist.  So there’s something heavenly about new shoes that attracts us humans.  I admit it floats my boat to buy new shoes, my mother also loved shoes, and my daughters are a bit shoe-crazy themselves.

Cue the next new shoes reference.

I decided to do some online research about shoes in heaven because, you know, Google is the final authority about everything (please know I’m being sarcastic, and if you’re seeking any Bible references,  use a reputable source not just someone’s goofy answer on Google).  But first I logged into Facebook to see what was happening in my friends’ worlds.

Apparently, buying new shoes.  Yep, a Facebook friend posted this status:  “Somehow new shoes always make me feel better ”

New shoes.  Again.  And that reminded me of another song about new shoes [click to hear it], which for some crazy reason, cheers me up every time I hear it and not just because it happens to be the cell ringtone when oldest daughter calls me.

So I started singing, “Hey, I put some new shoes on and suddenly everything is right I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody’s smiling, it’s so inviting.”

Hey, some new shoes…and that all brought me back to my initial question.   Will we wear new shoes or any shoes in heaven?

I don’t know.  But I do know that while we’re still here on earth, the Lord has given us much instruction on how we are to walk, regardless of our shoes.

Scripture tells us to walk faithfully, walk in obedience, walk in wisdom, walk blameless, walk in the light, walk humbly, walk by the Spirit, walk in the way of love, and walk in truth.

That’s a lot of walking!  So maybe we do need new shoes after all.  And maybe that’s why new shoes make us feel good and downright happy.

An old German proverb advises us, “Don’t throw away your old shoes before you have new shoes.”   That’s pretty decent advice unless you want to be bare-footed, but I do believe it’s wise to ‘throw away’ your old shoes if they’re taking you to places you shouldn’t go.

Even Dr. Seuss gave us some thoughts about where our feet should take us when he wrote, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You’re on your own.  And you know what you know. You are the guy who’ll decide where to go.”

It’s true.  We decide where our feet, clad in old or new shoes, will take us.  We choose our direction, our paths.  God has given us the freedom to choose, to use our free will.

For me, whether my feet are shod in boots or shoes, new or old, or I’m just barefooted, I want to walk the way Jesus shows me.

And to do that, I need to be reading His words, binding His truth to my mind and heart.

“When you walk, they will guide you; when you sleep, they will watch over you; when you awake, they will speak to you.” ~ Proverbs 6:22

On this best day of the year, where are your shoes taking you? Do you need new shoes?

©2013 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

A Sandy Thanksgiving

View from Staten Island

They call themselves the forgotten.

But on Thanksgiving Day, 1,300 volunteers, including four of my own family, showed them that they are not discounted.

A few weeks ago, while our family prepared for a blessed time of celebration – our oldest daughter’s wedding – folks in Staten Island, a borough of New York City, were bombarded by a storm that changed the course of their lives, Hurricane Sandy.

Because of their location being separated from NYC by New York Bay, Staten Island residents say they feel disconnected from the city.  When the hurricane hit the outer shore of the island, the borough once again felt ignored and cut off as they pleaded for relief help.

Meanwhile, safe and unaffected by the storm except for a week of rain, my husband and I watched the news, saw the photos of devastation, but got busy with our family wedding.  While we experienced blessings secure in our home with loved ones, homes in Sandy’s path were destroyed and lives lost.

Fast forward a few days.  Our Thanksgiving plans involved traveling to the state next door to ours, one hit by the storm, to celebrate the holiday with newly married son and daughter-in-law.  The week prior to the holiday our son phoned us to ask if we might consider an alternative to our traditional Thanksgiving Day feast.

The church’s Sandy Thanksgiving relief effort

Without hesitation, we quickly agreed as he explained what he and our daughter-in-law had in mind.

Their church organized relief help for hurricane victims; our son had already volunteered a  Saturday mucking and cleaning out homes on Staten Island.

Next the church planned a Thanksgiving weekend relief effort called Sandy Thanksgiving.

With our consent, our son registered the four of us – son, daughter-in-law, Mama, and Papa to serve. Instead of stuffing ourselves with turkey and the trimmings, we would fill those in need with a helping hand and hope.

Some of the volunteers in our group

An army of volunteers outfitted in red t-shirts proclaiming ‘Jesus Loves Jersey’ descended on Staten Island to help clean out homes, distribute relief supplies, and provide food.

We met for our shifts at Gateway National Park and dispersed in small groups to zone stations within the area hardest hit.

Our son became leader for our group of ten.  He, daughter-in-law, my husband and five other young adults spread out in our zone to help clean up yards and houses.

Another lady and I agreed to man the food station where I became grill master, cooking hot dogs, hamburgers and sausage on a brand new propane gas grill.  We served hot sandwiches, chips, cookies, granola bars, drinks including water, coffee or soda, and pie to any hungry person who came by.

We distributed relief supplies from buckets and mops to work gloves and masks.  All the supplies and food were donated and we were instructed to distribute everything.  At the end of our work shift, the gas grill and ice chest would be given to a family in our zone that needed these items the most.

Mounds of debris

God planted us exactly where we were needed.  We were the hands, feet and words of Jesus as we ministered to those who still need so much help almost a month after the storm’s devastation.

As the rest of our crew threw their efforts and strong backs into clean-up with area residents,  I served others by offering a cheerful word, a hot sandwich, a cool drink, a place to sit and rest for a few minutes, and a listening ear.

Even if I couldn’t handle the clean-up work due to a finicky back and hip, I had legs to stand, hands to flip burgers, and kind words to dispense.  I believe I was placed there for a purpose.  God wanted me to witness small miracles with my eyes and ears so I could share them with others.

Near our zone station, Juan worked cleaning up his modest home, wrecked by the flood waters.  After just a few moments of talking with him, I could sense he was a gentle soul.  He spoke of God and His provision and care even though Juan’s home was ruined and unlivable.

Juan in front of his home

Juan pleasantly agreed to allow me to photograph him standing in front of his home so I could share it in this blog.

I told him I wanted folks to realize the need that still exists on the island he calls home.  He nodded and smiled and posed for me.

I soon realized that God placed my co-volunteer there for a purpose too. Juan is a mechanic, but many of his tools were lost or ruined in the flood waters.

My co-volunteer, Elaine, knew a recently widowed woman who wanted to give away her deceased husband’s mechanics tools.  Elaine would see that the tools would find their way into Juan’s hands.

Juan shared that his home owner’s insurance company claimed his policy was cancelled two days before the storm hit.  That spurred my new friend into action.

Fluent in Spanish, Elaine conversed with Juan about his situation.  From his truck, he produced insurance papers and proof that he had paid his premiums on time and the insurance company had acknowledged receiving them.

My co-volunteer knew exactly what to do because she works in real estate.   We agreed that this was definitely a “God thing.”  The Lord knew that Juan, an ardent believer, needed her help.

Amazing things happened on this Thanksgiving Day.  A vehicle pulled over  and the driver asked me if I knew so and so.  I replied, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

As we talked, I realized he was not affiliated with my son’s church in any way.  The man explained, “I got a call to bring this food and meet him here.  I can’t find him.  Will you please take it and see that it is distributed to the people here?”

I agreed to do so.  He opened the back of his SUV where there were six boxes of sack lunches.

Each sack contained a large deli sandwich, a bag of chips, fresh pears and a bottle of water, all anonymously donated with no acknowledgement desired.

A pick-up truck pulling a trailer with construction tools stopped by next.  A handsome young man with a thick New York accent and his little dog, Bella, hopped out.

“I’ve got some boxes of pizza here – straight from my friend’s restaurant in Manhattan.  Can you please give these out?”

“This is no ordinary pizza,” he explained as he opened the top box to show me.  And it wasn’t.  It was pizza to die for.

“You’ll make sure that someone gets this, that it won’t go to waste?” he pleaded with me.  I assured him we would.   He told me he just needed to come to the island and help.  All of his family were eating Thanksgiving dinner; he was missing it but he didn’t care.

“They all think I’m crazy to do this, but I just gotta do it, ya know?”  he exclaimed as he grabbed Bella and jumped back in his pickup to go help somewhere else.

A construction company truck filled with workers drove by.  I yelled to them, “Are you hungry?  Do you need some lunch?”  They replied they were fine and drove on.

Later in the afternoon, they returned and asked if the offer still held.  They gobbled down hot dogs and sausage and exclaimed how good they tasted, thanking us profusely for providing it for them.

Another car arrived at our “block party.”  A young man emerged with a large container overloaded with fresh fruit – a whole pineapple, apples, grapes, clementines, pears, bananas.  Without a word, he deposited the fruit on our table. I thanked him with a “God bless you.”  He merely nodded, returned to his car, and drove away.

All afternoon, moments like that occurred.  The more we blessed folks, the more I felt blessed to be there in that moment.  The kindnesses I witnessed, the gratitude of those we served,  every minute was a memory-making moment that I’ll never forget.

As we cleaned up our station, loaded tables and chairs into a rented van, we discussed who to bless with the gas grill and cooler of leftover hotdogs and hamburgers.  One man came to mind.

This man evacuated his wife and children in plenty of time before the hurricane hit, but decided to stay and ride out the storm to protect their home from looters afterward.  As a wall of water descended on him, his decision forced him to swim from his home to a neighbor’s house which had a second story in order to survive.

Despite a bout with hypothermia, he had been working non-stop since the storm cleaning out his house and helping neighbors.  As my son and another volunteer helped this resident load the new grill onto his truck, this man confessed,  “I’m not used to being helped like this.  I feel like crying.”

A word of prayer

My son and co-volunteer asked if they could pray for him.   As I watched, I couldn’t help noticing how moved this man was by the experience.

And I thought to myself, “This is what we, the church – the body of Christ – are called to do, to be the hands and feet and words of Christ to our brothers and sisters in the world.”

What an amazing thing to be thankful for!

As the day came to a close, our son drove the rental van with tables and chairs back to the church’s make-shift headquarters at the park and I rode along.

We decided to walk down to the beach while we waited for my husband and daughter-in-law who were walking the several blocks back.

The beach proved peaceful and deserted.  No one else walked along the sand except the two of us.

Waves gently lapped at the shore as I shot a couple of pictures and marveled at how difficult it proved to envision an angry, out of control wall of water and wind forcing its way through this serene scene…until we turned around and saw the mounds of debris behind us.

I glanced at my son, my boy turned man.  My son who answered God’s call to help those who are hurting, those who need a helping hand, those who need hope to make it through another day.

I hugged my son tightly and said, “Happy Thanksgiving.  Thank you for bringing us here.  It’s the best Thanksgiving ever.”

As we turned to depart from the beach, I noticed God had painted yet another of my favorite scenes – a sunset.

Another day was ending.  Another day of life.  Another day for which to be most thankful.

Sunset on Staten Island

©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Dear Mr. State Trooper

Dear Mr. State Trooper,

I don’t know you and you don’t know me either.  Because we’ve never met, you probably would find what I have to say a little strange.

Oh, I’ve probably seen you before.  Either you or your comrades in arms sit watchfully in your patrol cars at strategic points along the four-lane highway which links my little town to the big city.

Yes, I’ve noticed you pointing a radar gun at vehicles traveling to and fro.  I know you are not only trying to catch speeders but also protecting the rest of us who do manage to drive safely.  I also know you patrol that highway stopping suspicious drivers in an effort to keep drugs from being pipelined to our town and beyond.  Yes, drugs right here in my little town and in the rural areas surrounding us.

I do want you to know that I truly appreciate your service as you protect citizens like me, sometimes putting your life on the line.  I have the utmost respect for you and all policemen.  But there’s something important I want to share with you today.

Yesterday as I was driving to work – yes, sir, I’m certain I was traveling the speed limit  because my car was set on cruise control – I spied the flashing lights of your patrol car stopped on the highway berm and noticed that you had a car pulled over, a speeder I assumed.

As I came upon this scene,  I signaled to move into the left-hand lane – see, I do obey our homeland laws.   I watched as you stepped out of your marked vehicle  and surveyed oncoming traffic.  It seemed as if you looked right at me.  And then you turned and started walking toward that pulled over car in front of yours.

That’s when it happened. God prompted me to do something for you.

Since I don’t know you personally, I have no idea if you believe in God or know Him.  You know who I mean? God our Creator, Maker of heaven and earth.  The same God who knit you together in your mother’s womb.  The God who came to earth in human form as Jesus, the Son, and died to save you and give you eternal life.  The God who sent His Spirit to comfort you and to guide you.

That God, very God, prompted me into action.

An overwhelming thought came into my head as I watched you in my rear view window walk towards that parked car.  I believe the Lord planted this thought in my mind and I chose to obey Him.

“Pray for him.”  That was the thought.  “Pray for him right now.”

I believe the Lord wanted me to pray for you.  So I did.  I prayed for your safety.  I prayed that angels of protection would surround you and no harm would come to you.  I prayed that the person in the stopped vehicle would not be out of control or a danger to you as you approached his car and spoke with him.  I prayed that no wayward or speedy driver would swerve out of the lane of traffic and accidentally hit you.

Mr. State Trooper, I prayed hard for you as I drove on to my destination.  And then something completely thought-provoking also entered my brain.  You see, I’m one of those “what if” kind of people.

I see things and I wonder, “What if?”  I think about possibilities and ponder, “What if?”

So here’s the provocative “what if?” that I’m considering today in my book of Opportunity.

What if I prayed like that all the time?  What if I prayed for each person as I encountered him or her – complete strangers?  What if I prayed for that clerk at the convenience store or the guy beside me at the gas pump?

What if I prayed for the safety of each person driving past me in a hurry to get somewhere?  What if I prayed for that school bus full of children and its driver?

What if I prayed for my mailman as he delivers my mail or my dental hygienist as she cleans my teeth or my chiropractor as he adjusts that achy old hip of mine?

What if all of us believers prayed like that every single day?

Praying for you, Mr. State Trooper, made me realize I need to do some major changing in my life.  First, I need to be more sensitive to the Spirit’s prompting me to prayer on someone’s behalf.  Next,  I must be obedient to pray, not later, but right then at that very moment.  And lastly,  I need to share this experience with others.

You know why I think that, Mr. State Trooper?  Because when I safely arrived at work, an event I take for granted every day, this quote greeted me on my daily calendar:  “If you have knowledge, let others light their candles at it.” ~ Margaret Fuller

What if we all “lit our candles” and prayed for one another without ceasing?  Light would overcome the darkness.  The world would be a brighter place and maybe, just maybe, a little safer too.

I prayed that the Lord would keep you safe and protected yesterday,  Mr. State Trooper.  Actually, I continued to pray for you all day because I realized that even if you don’t know Him, God loves and cares about you very, very much.  That’s why He asked me to pray for you.  And in the process, He taught me yet another lesson.

Be safe, Mr. State Trooper.  And God be with you till we meet again.

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Spectacular Sunday: He is risen!

I captured this photo a couple of years ago at the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens in Pittsburgh one day when my husband and I visited there in need of a winter’s day respite.

Something about this sight intrigued me enough to warrant taking a picture.   In comparison to some of the other photos I snapped of exquisite plants and flowers that day, this one doesn’t seem that extraordinary.

But yet, each time I view these snapshots, I am drawn to this picture over and over again.   Finally, this week as I prayerfully considered Holy Week and what it means to believers in Jesus Christ like me, I realized why this photo attracts me with such intensity.

It reminds me of the picture in my mind of how I think the tomb appeared on that Resurrection morning.  The stone was gone.  The tomb was open.  And it was empty.  Our Savior defeated death and He arose!

 “On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.  They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.  While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.  In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee:  ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’  Then they remembered his words.” ~ Luke 24: 1-8

The tomb is empty.  My Savior paid the ultimate price for my sin and the sins of this world.   He arose from the grave victorious!  And so shall we.  Hallelujah!  He is risen, indeed!!

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Do this in remembrance

Every year during this very special week I find myself a little speechless.

Holy Week, the week between Palm Sunday and Easter,  always leaves me at a loss for words.

To remember that my Savior entered Jerusalem triumphantly to the cheers of a crowd shouting, “Hosanna, blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord”  yet just a few days later, Jesus hung on a cross dying to jeers of the crowd simply astonishes me beyond words.

After observing the Passover meal with His disciples and trying to prepare them for what He knew was to come, Jesus established what believers in Christ call the Last Supper.  Then He prayed to the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Jesus was betrayed, arrested, deserted and denied, tried and condemned to be crucified until death, beaten, scourged, and mocked.

To consider that He bore the sins of the entire world on His shoulders willingly, knowing the pain and agony He would bear and to realize He loved me (and you) enough to offer Himself as the sacrificial Lamb takes both my breath and my words away.

Last Saturday evening, the day before Palm Sunday, my husband and I worshiped the Risen Lamb with 14,000 other believers at a Casting Crowns concert in our nearby city.  What an incredible night.

What an amazing way to usher in this Holy Week, listening to and singing along with one of my favorite Christian performing groups.  Surrounded by a packed arena full of fellow Christians.  Again it rendered me speechless.

My own words seem so inadequate to express what my Savior did for us.  Often when words fail me, pictures and music suffice.  So as this Easter weekend unfolds, I’ll post music that is meaningful to me and captures the waves of emotion I feel.

And all because of this:

“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

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

The courage to go straight

You know that old saying,  Can’t see the forest for the trees?  Sometimes, that describes me.

I spend so much time peering at and examining something that I don’t really see it for what it truly is.  I often wonder if I miss blessings that way.

This came to my mind because when I arrived at work this morning and turned over today’s leaf in my daily inspirational calendar, I read this quote:

“Courage does not consist in feeling no fear, but in conquering fear.  He is the hero who, seeing the lions on either side, goes straight on because there his duty lies.” ~ Saturday Magazine (British magazine published 1832-1844)

And that’s my problem I think.  I too often concentrate on the lions on the side threatening to attack me or the trees that block my path.  I’m distracted by fear for what might happen instead of focusing on what’s right in front of me, straight on.  Fear has a way of grabbing and holding my attention so strongly, making it difficult to focus on thankfulness and joy.

Over the years, my gripping fears have changed.  When I was a girl, fear came from the darkness.  I don’t know why I was afraid of the dark, but I was certain something or someone lurked in the shadows just waiting to pounce upon me.

If I was at my friend’s house next door and had to walk home alone after darkness descended, I sprinted through our yards, heart pounding, legs churning to reach the safety of my back door as fast as possible.  I’ve conquered that fear for the most part, but occasionally,  when I walk alone in the dark now as an adult, I still make haste to arrive at my destination quickly.

As a young child, I was frightened of a gigantic monster in our basement.  It had widespread mammoth-sized arms and it breathed fire, literally.  The monster was an old coal furnace that heated our house and that thing terrified me.  The dark little coal bin under the porch also was a scary place.   As I grew older, I realized how irrational my dread was, but it still helped when my dad installed a new and smaller natural gas furnace.

None of those childhood terrors were quite as unnerving though as the fear that squeezed the breath out of me almost seven years ago when my doctor informed me I had cancer.  That fear rose up, snaking its way around me, twirling its terrifying tendrils until it locked me tightly in its grasp.

But as I prayed and sensed my family and friends’ many prayers for me, I literally felt that imprisoning fear fleeing my body and in its place, the Lord granted peace and comfort to fill me.

I persevere to keep that nasty fear at bay, but yet it occasionally sneaks back for another attack.  What if the cancer returns?  What if my husband loses his job?  What if..? What if…? What if???

I had an unnerving dream over the weekend, one that startled me awake gasping for air, making my heart pound, and opening the door for anxiety.  This nighttime terror was deeply set in a foundation of fear that trapped me as surely as fast-setting cement.

Terror curled around my subconscious so securely that when I fell asleep again, I dreamed the same nightmare.   During the day, that dream weaved its way into my thoughts and captivated my mind with an eerie, unnerved feeling.

I pondered this over the weekend.  What am I to do with this fear that attacks me even in sleep?  And then I remembered.  One day several weeks ago while driving to work, I listened to Dr. Charles Stanley on the radio as he related a story that I haven’t forgotten.

This pastor spoke of a very difficult time in his life when he could have easily given himself over to fear and anxiety.  An older lady in his church invited him to her home for lunch and showed him a painting she had of Daniel in the lions’ den.  She asked Stanley what he saw in the picture.  Lions, he answered, surrounding Daniel, ready to attack him, maim him, and destroy him.

But then the woman told Stanley to look closely at Daniel.  What was he doing? Daniel wasn’t looking at the lions at all; his eyes were turned upward to God. His focus was not on the dilemma he was in, or on pain he might endure, or even on the fear of being eaten alive.  Daniel’s focus was completely on God.

Dr. Stanley said the message he learned was that as we face the ‘lions’ in our lives, we must remember that God is ready, able, and willing to fight any battle we might face and protect us just as the Lord protected Daniel.  But we have to turn to God, focus on Him, not our fears, and make our way straight to Him.

Daniel never doubted his faith in God.  He may have felt fear, but he knew the Lord would give him the courage to conquer it and bring him through the situation.  Daniel understood that the battle belongs to the Lord.

Oh, to have faith like Daniel and trust that Almighty God will help me conquer my fears.  To focus my eyes on my Savior, not on my anxiety.   To see the lions on either side but continue straight in the path He’s made for me.  To not let the trees block my view of the forest.  That is my prayer on this day in my book of Opportunity.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”  ~ Joshua 1:9

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

An ice cube told me so

It happens every single time.

It frustrates me, it exasperates me, and when I’m in a hurry, it even makes me infuriated.

Yet it is something so trivial, so irrelevant, so trifling that honestly, it’s not worth the effort it takes getting aggravated.

But this situation transpires every solitary day, sometimes several times a day, and it completely exacerbates me.

You’re probably gearing up to read a rant from me about some injustice in the world, or some terrible wrong that occurred.  Truly, my beef today in my book of Opportunity has nothing to do with the unfairness of the world, or prejudice, or some grievance I have.

You may think I’m daft but my problem has to do with… ice cubes.  Okay, I warned you that it was an inconsequential thing!  But my ice cube situation reminded me of something significantly noteworthy and I feel certain I must share what I realized.

Here at Mama’s Empty Nest, we don’t have a fancy-dancy refrigerator.  Over 12 years ago, as we prepared to move into our newly built house here in the homeland, we incurred so many expenses that we chose to purchase a fairly simple white refrigerator.

The only requirement needed was an ice-maker of some sort because I am an ice cube junkie.  Since a refrigerator with an ice cube/water dispenser on the door was not in our budget, we settled for an inside the freezer type ice-maker.

Our trusty ice giver has served us well, dishing up multitudes of ice cubes at my beck and call.   It has survived countless rounds of teenage parties and sleepovers, family picnics, graduation galas, family holiday dinners, and middle of the night middle-age hot flashes (and there were LOTS of those!).

I truly would be lost without my ice-maker because when I drink cold beverages they must be icy cold, even chilled water from the refrigerator must have ice floating in it.  Told you I was an ice cube junkie!

So my complaint is not that the ice-maker has gone on the fritz, it hasn’t.  It still molds and makes cubes to meet my demands and I’m grateful for it.  But here’s the part of the story that always ticks me off.

Because the ice-maker is inside the top freezer portion of the fridge, I must open the door and scoop up the cubes with my hand (it’s clean, I promise!) then deposit them into my glass.  Every time I do so, at least one wily and rambunctious cube escapes from my hand, lands on the hardwood floor, and slides and glides with abandon to far reaches of the kitchen.

Every time!!  And often an avalanche of ice cubes jump out of my hand in escape mode.  So to avoid wet little puddles here and there on the kitchen floor, I must stop to retrieve them.  I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when it happens without fail each time I reach into the freezer for ice, it irritates me.

Why such a minor, paltry incidence gets the best of me, I cannot say.  I can only reiterate that it infuriates me especially when I’m loading up my travel mug with ice and water to scurry out of the house for work or another engagement.

So the other day, when, yet again, those pesky little cubes that I have a love/hate relationship with jumped ship straight from my hand to the floor, I became angry.   But then as I indignantly exclaimed, “NOT AGAIN!!!”,  a sobering thought coursed through my mind.

Immediately, I thought how God must feel each and every time, several times a day in some cases, when I fail to acknowledge Him, or give Him thanks, or praise Him, or I fall once again into the same old sin pattern I’ve had for so long.

When I jump from His hand of guidance to free fall, does He think, “NOT AGAIN!”?  When I willingly escape from the straight path He set me on and choose my own sinful way, falling yet again, does He sigh with righteous indignation when He picks me back up?  When I don’t follow His Word, which is His guidebook for me, does He get annoyed and let off steam?

As I gathered the willy-nilly ice cubes and their bits broken off by the fall, and then tossed them into the kitchen sink, I realized God never, ever tosses me aside.  Not even when I’m rebellious, not even when I’ve really made a mess.  He lovingly restores me, guides me, directs me, and more importantly He forgives me.

The God of the universe shows unconditional love and patience with me, someone who is as inconsequential in the world as an ice cube.  Since I was a little girl, God has always been a major part of my life, so He has formed me and molded me into the person He wanted me to become.

And yet I stray, I fall into sin, and I forget to give Him thanks in all things.  But He loves me anyway and continues to hold me in the palm of His hand.  He doesn’t angrily throw me away each time I fall.

And that’s what my rebellious ice cubes reminded me.

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.  The Lord is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made.  All your works praise you, Lord; your faithful people extol you. They tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, so that all people may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.  Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.  The Lord is trustworthy in all He promises and faithful in all He does. The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.” ~ Psalm 145:8-14

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynestwordpress.com

A diamond day

Something miraculous happened the other night while I slept.

Someone sprinkled diamonds across my lawn!!

I know it sounds crazy, but while I snoozed and slumbered, cozy and snuggled warmly under my own mama’s hand-made quilt, next to my husband, who also had blissfully entered dreamland, someone crept into Mama and Papa’s empty nest yard and spread a glittering array of diamonds!

Some may surmise it was Suzy Snowflake or even Jack Frost who left this amazing gift.  I suspect it was collaboration between the two of them – snow meeting frost.  But I know who the Mastermind behind this gift truly is.

Snowflakes flurried the other day spreading their white, cottony blanket over our surroundings.  Grass completely covered, trees flocked, but roadways remained open and passable.   As evening approached and the sun journeyed its way to the other side of the world, the temperature dropped and while it didn’t actually create ice, it became frosty and a little slippery outside.

Tired from our day’s work, hubby and I settled down for our rest, expecting to see yet another winter’s day in the morning.  Upon awakening, I checked the weather report (our ‘Local on the 8’s’ via The Weather Channel) to see what the day would bring.  Strong sunlight already streamed in our bedroom windows, forcing its way under the unopened blind slats to demonstrate its might.

The forecast called for no expected additional snowfall, and I quickly prepared to leave for work.  I backed my vehicle out of the garage and immediately the sun blinded my vision, so I donned by trusty sunglasses.   About halfway up our long driveway, I suddenly stopped my car.  Stunned.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I tore off the sunglasses and reached for my camera.

My yard sparkled.  My yard glistened.  My yard actually glittered! I felt as if this quote from an American motivational writer had literally come true - “You are, at this moment, standing right in the middle of your own ‘acres of diamonds.’” ~ Earl Nightingale

Diamonds!  My two and a quarter acre yard literally seemed effervescent.   Brilliant, intense sunlight beamed on the lustrous, frosted snow and created a dazzling effect.  I paused in my car and simply was astonished viewing the array laid out before my eyes.

I tried to capture this incredible sight with my point and shoot digital, but the photo I hoped to seize eluded me.  So my feeble attempt to describe this scene with words is the best I can accomplish.

Now before you question why I was so bedazzled by sunlight streaming on my snow-covered yard, let me explain that snow is no stranger to me.   I grew up here in the North where snow is an ever constant aspect of winter.

Simply put, winter equals snow in my point of view.   Deep, piled up forts of snow, dollops of snowy landscapes are normal in my neck of the woods.  Snow storms, snow squalls, whiteouts, flurries, what have you, I’ve seen lots of snow in my lifetime.

But two days ago in my book of Opportunity, snow stopped me in my tracks.   This frosted over snow reclining on my grass captured and imprisoned the sun’s luminous rays while creating gleaming gems seemingly deposited every inch or two across my yard.  It seemed like I could venture out into the vastness of white and pluck some radiant diamonds from the ground.

Either I have never viewed such a sight before, or in my hurry and haste, I have never taken notice.  Standing outside my car, aiming my camera at this magnificent miracle for the eyes to behold, the warmth of the sun kissed my face even while the cold wind whipped my hair into my eyes and stung, yet joy leapt in my heart.  Literally.

The words of an old John Denver song come to my mind as I write this.   “Some days are diamonds. Some days are stones. Sometimes the hard times won’t leave me alone. Sometimes the cold wind blows a chill in my soul. Some days are diamonds, some days are stone.”

Hard times befall every one of us humans.  Just this week, my heart wrenched at hearing of misfortunes and trials people I know are enduring.  They’re experiencing days that seem made of stone when the cold winter wind blows chill through their souls.

But our days don’t have to be stone days, even during the difficulties of this life on earth.  See the Mastermind, who granted me sight to see His gift strewn over my yard, promises us diamonds for stones.  He’s always there to care, to hold us up, to see us through, but we must stop, pause, acknowledge His presence, seek His help, and fully rely on Him.

Jesus, our gift more precious than diamonds, is the living stone spoken of in 1 Peter 2: 4-6.  “As you come to Him, the living Stone – rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to Him – you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house…For in Scripture it says:  ‘See I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.’”

Jesus takes my days filled with stones and turns them into diamond days.  So when I feel burdened, like I am weighed down with the heaviest boulder,  I want to choose joy remembering that Jesus promised me He would always be with me through every moment of life.  Just as He promises to be with you if you believe in Him.

“Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” ~ Jesus Christ in Matthew 28:20, King James Version

The diamonds strewn across my front yard reminded me.

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com