Splash Blessings

One of my boys got in trouble and the punishment was no electronics for a week. This affected his twin brother as well. The electronics had to be turned off for both, so that the guilty one could not watch whatever his brother was doing. This caused great frustration for the innocent brother.

“Why do I have to suffer, when he is the one who got in trouble?” he asked indignantly.

“Sometimes people’s sin and the consequences splashes over onto us,” I answered.

“Well, I wish he would quit splashing his sin on me!” he retorted.

This is so true. Many times when someone sins, we feel the consequences. Or when we sin, other people are affected. A person speeding or texting while they are driving can run into an innocent person. That person’s sin has splashed on the innocent person.  Someone can cheat or steal something at their workplace, and all of a sudden management tightens up on everybody’s freedom. Their sin splashed on the whole company.

It is the same way with blessings. Remember the movie Pay it Forward? It is about a boy who starts a movement to do three people a favor. The favor cannot be a repayment, but something unexpected and helpful to the recipient. Isn’t that like splashing blessings on them? It is so easy to do. Maybe not the huge blessings, like buying someone a car. But splashing small blessings is easy. Have you ever let someone go in front of you at a check out line and seen how appreciative they are? How about letting someone in when you are driving and their lane ends? How about buying someone lunch or coffee?

One morning a woman in a big SUV was talking on her cell phone and cut me off getting in to the drive through at Starbucks. I didn’t think it would do any good to honk or outwardly express my irritation, because I didn’t think she even saw me or noticed what she did.  Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to order and the barista said through the intercom that the woman in front of me would like to pay for my order. Splash! Blessed! Just for fun, I decided to pay for the person behind me and splash a blessing on them as well.

Matthew 5:16 “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Lord, help me to remember that my sin affects other people. Help me to splash blessings on the people I come in contact with today.

How about you? Have you ever paid it forward? Or have you had someone splash a blessing on you lately?

A New Beginning

I didn’t know anything about her, except that this was her second time to church and she wanted to be baptized. Vince introduced her and said, “She wants to be a Jesus follower. Will you tell her how?”

Her name was Cathy and she looked about 25 years old. She was short with blonde hair and a pleasant face. Her round blue eyes looked eagerly at me as I started to talk. I asked if she had grown up going to church. She said no, that her parents never went to church.  A friend had invited her last week and she brought her three-year-old daughter by herself today.

Not wanting to repeat what she already knew, I asked her if she understood the message from the sermon. She said she did. I asked if she understood the prayer at the end, where the Pastor explained how to follow Jesus. She said yes, she did.

Then, I began to explain, “Jesus was born in a manger and lived a perfect life and died on a cross, to forgive us for all of our sins, past, present and future. It’s like our slate, our life, gets washed clean and we get to start over. Would you like that?” I asked. A smile spread across her face, “Yes, I would. I need that.”

I went on, “Ok, first we pray and ask God to forgive us for our sins. Then, we thank Him for sending His son, Jesus, to die on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins. Then, we commit our lives to follow Him, the best way we know how. When we do that, God sends His Holy Spirit to live inside us. He will guide you in how to live your new life as a Jesus follower. He will never leave you and will be with you where ever you are. Do you understand?

“Yes, that would be great,” she eagerly replied.

“Even though this prayer of committing your life is a one time thing, our new life of following Jesus is a journey. We all learn as we grow. We learn through coming to church. We learn through reading God’s Word, the Bible, every day. The Holy Spirit will help you."

I prayed out loud and she repeated what I said. I feared I had left out so much. Did she know what sin was? Or heaven or hell? I forgot to tell her how great God is and how much He loved her. I forgot to say that this would not make her life perfect, and that there would still be difficulties, but now she would have Jesus with her.

I held back saying, “ Do you know what a huge miracle this is, that the God of the universe picked you, out of all the people in our city, to come to church today? It is God who put the desire in your heart to want to have a relationship with Him. Your life will be blessed beyond measure from this day on.”

I had only just met her, so I didn’t want to smother her with Jesus. But I wanted to hug her and say, “Welcome to the family! I can’t wait for you to get to know this wonderful God, who has an incredible life planned for you!”

People do not wake up and out of the blue decide to come to church. God calls them because He loves them so much.

I left to get a New Believers Bible for her, while she went to pick up her daughter from the kid’s area.

“My daughter loves coming here,” she beamed excitedly. “All week she has asked when do we get to come back to church? She asked me everyday.”

She turned to me with new excitement in her eyes, and a huge smile. “I feel different already,” she told me. "Thank you for telling me about Jesus and praying with me. I had never heard that before. I can’t wait to come back next Sunday.”

I can’t wait either.

She held her daughter’s hand and they walked out, both smiling with joy.

Amazing!

I never stop being in awe at how God calls people to Himself, forgives them with His amazing grace and changes their life forever.

It was all God. He did everything. I forgot to say so much. Where was my pen and paper to draw out the ‘The Bridge’ illustration, showing how we pass from death to life? I didn’t quote any Bible verses, not even John 3:16. And really, how is she going to believe the Bible if I didn’t tell her about Genesis 1:1 ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth  . . .’?

It did not matter. Today was her day. God called her, prompted her to come to church, prepared her heart and mind to eagerly ask about God. He gave her understanding and the desire to follow Him.

Amazing!

Amazing grace that saved another wretch like me.

She came in lost and now was found.

She had been spiritually blind, He opened her eyes, and now she could see.

A Tail of Two Dogs

Our family has had quite a few pets: dogs, cats, ducks, snakes, gerbils, a tarantula, a skink and lots of fish.  Currently, we just have two dogs. One is a big, beautiful, eight year old Siberian Husky. I don’t say he is beautiful to brag. I say it because people will stop their cars when we are out for a walk and say, “Wow! That is a beautiful dog!”

The thing about it is, I think he knows he is beautiful. I think he knows when people stop their cars, and talk to us, that they are talking about him. His name is Tacoma, and one of my friends described him in one word ‘regal’.  That really does sum it up. He is regal. He acts like he is the king of everything. He acts like everyone and everything is beneath him. He likes people and he likes to be petted, but he would never lower himself to beg or jump on you just to be petted. He will walk close to you and offer you his beautiful fur, for your opportunity to pet him. He, very seldom, will lower himself to bark. Again, I think he thinks barking is for little dogs, that are not large and in charge, like he is. When we go walking, he proudly holds his head up high, walks a straight line, knows where we are going, thinks he is leading, and does not even glance at the poor dogs yapping away at him from inside a fence. He is purpose driven, and knows his assignment is to get his pack completely around our walking path. He does not have time to stop and smell the roses or acknowledge any other dogs along the way.

We have another dog too. I hate for her to be called ‘the other dog’, but that is what she is. We got her from a rescue shelter, when she was a puppy. Her tag said she was Australian Shepherd mix. The truth is, she is mostly mix. As the vet said, “She looks like an ordinary ‘rez dog’, a little bit of everything.” Great. I was hoping she would be more Australian Shepherd looking, so she could hold her own with the regal dog. No such luck. She looks very ordinary, tan, short hair, medium sized, like so many other mutts walking around. We named her Darla, because she was  so darling when she was a puppy. The thing that makes her special though is that she loves everybody. She does think everyone around her wants to pet her and she wants to show doggie love to everyone who comes close to her.  She wags her tail and shakes her whole body, so excited to see new people. Even when she comes in the house for the tenth time in the morning, she acts like she hasn’t seen us in days. In many ways, she is the opposite of Tacoma. She knows she is not the boss of anyone. She obeys all the non-verbal, dog dominant communication that Tacoma shows her. If they are getting treats, Tacoma always gets the first one. If they are getting fed, she lets Tacoma choose the bowl he wants first. If he wants her pillow, chew toy, bone or treat, she will automatically acquiesce to his preference. Sometimes he wants his bone AND her bone, and will get both. She will sit a few feet away, wagging her tail, watching his every move and waiting to see if he will get up and leave one of the bones, so she can snatch it back. She is the happiest dog we have ever had, and really, the happiest one in our family. She will never make it on the cover of Dog Magazine, but she brings a lot of joy to our family.

They say that dog owners start to look like their dogs. I wonder how we look. Do I want to look beautiful, but act large and in charge, like everyone else owes me something, like Tacoma? Or would I rather look plain and ordinary, but show love to everyone I meet, like Darla? I always choose Darla, anytime there is an opportunity where I can (or should) only take one dog. Nobody is going to comment about how beautiful she is. But, she will make others feel loved just by her enthusiasm to see them and her sweetness while she is around them.

As much as our world admires and is impressed by beautiful looking people, and dogs, I would much rather be a person who shows love to others, who is enthusiastic to see anyone new, and who is sweet to those around me. Just like it says in 1 Samuel 16:7 “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

How about you? Do you have a beautiful dog or one with a sweet spirit?

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Israel

Some couples golf together, some ski together, and others bike together. Vince and I lead trips to Israel together. I know, it sounds kind of funny. The very first time we went to Israel, we sat on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and said to each other, “We have got to come back and bring our kids and our friends!” So, that is what we have done the last few trips.

Our very first trip was the most unforgettable though. Not only was it amazingly wonderful and gave us a greater love for the Bible, our Lord and His people, but it started out as a comedy of errors.

***Disclaimer here: If you go to Israel, this will NOT happen to you. This story could happen on any international or national flight. ***

We joined a tour group, where we knew no one, except the leader. He held some meetings where a travel agent told us what to expect during international travel and answer any questions.

At this point, we were in our early 30’s, and had traveled a few times, mostly non-stop to Phoenix or Dallas. The verse “pride comes before the fall” was written on our foreheads as we sat and listened to the expert advice of a TRAVEL AGENT, who had flown internationally many, many times.

I took copious notes, and we listened intently to every word.  All I can say is our pride got the better of us. The travel agent strongly recommended, that, since the flight would be about 24 hours with the plane changes, we should pack a change of clothing in our carry on bags. Looking back, it was excellent advice. At the time though, Vince and I looked at each other like she was from Mars. We had never heard of such a thing. Why would we want to carry around, for 24 hours, an extra set of clothes, including underwear, extra toothbrush, and toiletries? Instead, we both packed a small backpack with vitally important necessities like: peanut M & Ms, corn nuts, trail mix, cheese crackers and gum. I also packed make up, which is vitally important.

We used frequent flyer miles for the trip. This meant we would not be flying with the group, but would be by ourselves until we met them in Israel. We had enough points for Business Class. We had never flown First Class, nor did we even know there was a Business Class. The morning we checked in, the lady at the airline desk asked,

“You do know that you will be changing airports in London, right?”

No, we didn’t know. She spoke like it was just a simple gate change.

“You land at Heathrow Airport and you will take a short bus ride to Gatwick Airport to catch the final leg of your flight to Tel Aviv.  Don’t worry about your luggage. It is checked all the way through to Tel Aviv.”

So, off we flew. The first stop was Dallas, because no matter where you are flying from, when you are on this particular airline, you must fly through Dallas. We then flew to Chicago, and then overnight to London. I started wondering how our luggage was going to get from one airport to the other. Was someone going to carry it on the bus over to the next airport? Shouldn’t we be carrying our luggage from one airport to the other? Did they have a finely tuned system, where the passengers took the bus, but their luggage mysteriously got to the other airport by train, helicopter or magic carpet ride?

When we landed in London, I asked the first British Airways attendant I saw,

 “Do we need to pick up our luggage and bring it to the next airport?”

She looked at our tickets. She was wearing a crisp, navy blue dress and an old fashioned, round top, keystone cop type of hat. She answered in a polite, British accent, “No, your luggage is checked all the way through.”

We walked through the airport and I found another keystone cop capped attendant and asked again. He replied, “No, you are checked all the way through.”

Finally, I went to a British Airways counter and asked again, “How does our luggage get from one airport to the other?”

Again, in a pleasant, yet firm, quaint accent, she said, “I’m not exactly sure, but if your ticket says the luggage is checked all the way to your final destination, it will get there.” Alrighty then.

It was about 3am, our time, when we got on the very tall, but not quite a double-decker bus. Feeling terribly sleep deprived, I was dizzy, light headed, feeling a little green and had a headache. We sat in the first row behind the bus driver, because I am also a terrible passenger and got carsick just walking up the steps onto the bus. As we took off, speeding very fast on narrow, winding roads, I remember feeling like the top of the bus was swaying from side to side as we raced through the countryside. I had no idea a bus could take a roundabout at 90 miles an hour and not tip over. I was sitting sideways, leaning my head against the back of the seat, with my eyes closed. I asked Vince, very weakly, if he would ask the bus driver how our luggage was going to get to the other airport.

Only because he loves me, and saw how green I was, did he ask the bus driver. The driver rambled something very fast, and not loud enough to be heard over the roaring engine. Vince turned to me and said, “I couldn’t understand a word he said. But I think he said our luggage is checked all the way through.”

Agitated at this, I remembered Vince was terrible at understanding any accent. He could never follow any of the Pride and Prejudice type movies. I think I said something to him like,

“This is England. The man is speaking English. You should be able to understand him.”

Fed up with me, and exhausted too, I think he finally said, “Robyn, you don’t have to understand how everything works. Trust them. They do this all the time.”

Somehow, without any sleep, and feeling more dizzy and nauseous, we boarded our last flight to Tel Aviv. There were 6 rows of First Class, which was nothing more than larger seats. The last row was labeled Business Class. Basically, they were all the same, except there was a sign posted that read:

“No Smoking in First Class. Smoking is allowed in Business Class only.”

 I thought this was some kind of joke!

Smoking had been banned on American flights for years. But, apparently, it was not overseas. Our section was filled with businessmen, returning from whatever business they had done. The only thing they wanted to do besides, talk really loudly and laugh, was, you guessed it . . . smoke! There were about 20 men and every one of them took turns getting up out of their rows, walking the few feet to our row, sitting down next to us and smoking. It was the weirdest thing ever!

I was beyond sick at this point. I was huddled in the corner against the window, legs up in the seat, with my arms around my knees, in a fetal position. I had the blue blanket covering my head, trying to filter out the smoke, and wondering if I could request that they drop the oxygen mask from the ceiling for me. I held the blanket in one hand and the airsickness bag in the other hand. Vince is as allergic to smoke as I am, but I had no idea how he was fending off the growing cloud of smoke.

The only thing I remember him saying to me during the entire five-hour flight, was, “Sweetie, they are serving fish for dinner. Do you want any?”

FISH! On an airplane!  Gagging was the only response I could muster up. I think I heard Vince laugh a little.

The best part about the entire flight was that it landed away from the terminal, so we had to walk outside to get to the terminal. This was the freshest, sweetest air I had ever breathed. I wanted to stay right there and let the wind blow all the fishy, smoky stench out of my hair and off my clothes. This may be a slight exaggeration, but I really felt a physical revival inside my lungs and nose. It was almost more than I could stand, to breath in the clean outside air. I felt like I was coming back to life with every breath.

When we got inside to the baggage claim area, there was laughter, noise, and people hugging each other and clamoring to pick up their luggage off the winding belt. A tremendous amount of luggage came out. Vince and I waited for everyone to clear out and stepped up to the baggage claim belt.

We waited

and waited

and waited

until there were no more suitcases going around. Our suitcases were nowhere to be found.

We went to a customer service counter and told them we couldn’t find our luggage. They had me fill out a lost luggage form. I told them of our unique situation.  I said our luggage had been checked all the way through, but we changed airports in London, so maybe our luggage got here before us, and was sitting in an office somewhere.

The man shook his head; “You changed airports, but left your luggage at the first airport?”

“Yes, because they said it was checked all the way through to Tel Aviv.” I said meekly.

“If you had to change airports, that changes everything. Why didn’t you ask someone if you should get your suitcases and bring them to the next airport? How did you think they were going to get from one airport to the next?” he asked incredulously.

Yes, how indeed.

He assured us, that the airline would find our luggage and drive it out to our hotel. It could take between a week and ten days!

The airport pick up area had cleared out by now. The multitude of taxi drivers and bus drivers that had been holding up cardboard signs with people’s last names, were mostly gone. I had scanned the names on the signs earlier, when we were waiting for our missing luggage, but did not see anything that resembled our last name. Finally, after an hour had passed there was only one taxi driver left holding a cardboard sign. We, minus our luggage, were the only tourists left looking for our ride.

Vince went over to the man whose sign was printed in big, black letters:

                                                                   REUBEN

Vince told the man our last name, and asked if, perhaps, he was really waiting for us? The man shook his head and said he was waiting for a REUBEN party. 

Vince asked, “Do you think you could mean ‘Robyn’ - R-O-B-Y-N?

The driver, obviously irritated from having to wait so long, said,

“Yeah, yeah. That is what the sign says, Rueben.”

Not at all sure this was our driver, but not having any other options, we got in his taxi.

He was puzzled when we told him we would be staying twelve days and had no luggage. He laughed and jokingly said something about us having all our clothes in our small backpacks.

The trip got MUCH better after that. Amazingly, the airline found our luggage and delivered it to us the next day! We were shocked and so happy to be able to change out of our stinky clothes.

We have been back several times since then. We have never flown again without a complete change of clothes, including a toothbrush and toiletries. We have never seen anyone smoke on an airplane before or after that flight.

Our life lessen?    Proverbs 13:10

 “ Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisdom is found in those who take advice.”

Confessions of a Baseball Mom: Wear it

It was the coldest, windiest day of the season. Brrrrr. The wind felt like it was whipping right through me. Every part of my body that was not covered with several layers, and wrapped in a huge blanket, felt like an ice cube. Not surprisingly, most of the other parents chose to stay at home for this game. Our team had to travel two hours to a small town to play another varsity team looking to improve their standings with a win.  But, my son was a senior and since this was his last season to play baseball, I was determined to make it to all of the games, freezing wind or not.

I had never been much of a yeller in the stands. One, it hurts my throat to yell, and two, my son told me when he was eight that he was never able to hear anything I yelled from the stands anyway. Plus, this year I was the backup scorekeeper, keeping track of every pitch, hit and defensive play, on an official looking scorebook. So, there wasn’t a lot of time to yell if I had wanted to.

It was a tense, close game, made more tense by having to fight to keep sitting upright against the wind. Honestly, it was brutal for the few fans wearing parkas watching the game. There was no talking in the stands. With the wind howling so loudly we could not have heard each other anyway. Everyone was just wrapped up in their own little cocoon, peering out under hats to watch the game.

Toward the end of the tied ballgame, my son was up to bat. He, along with most of the others had not had a hit this game. In fact, during his last two at bats he had been hit with the ball in the back and the left arm. Ok, it happens, and there was the wind factor. But, having watched and recorded every single pitch, I noticed that nobody else from either team had been hit with a pitch. With the ball flying 85 miles an hour, it was able to cut a straight line to the plate even in the wind.

I was anxious for him. I knew he wanted a hit, and the team needed him to hit a run or two in, so we could get ahead. A homerun would win the game. The pitcher got ready and threw what looked to be a rocket blasting out of his hand. Pop! Right on my son’s left ribs.

I lost it!  Standing to my feet, defying the freezing wind, I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“THROW HIM OUTTA HERE! 

COME ON UMP! 

THAT’S THE THIRD TIME! HE’S DOING THAT ON PURPOSE!”

Nobody gets hit by a pitch three times in the same ballgame without it being intentional! My son had been on a home run streak the past few games, and that pitcher and opposing team had my son’s number. Literally. Either their coach had decided, or the pitcher took it upon himself to bean my son with the ball every time he got up to bat, rendering him unable to hit a homerun or anything else. I had had enough! I focused all my outrage at the umpire.

THAT’S THE THIRD ONE!

HE’S DOING THAT ON PURPOSE!

THROW HIM OUT!

Later, I was glad that I hadn’t grown up with cussing in my home, so it wasn’t something I had to worry about flying out of my mouth in uncontrolled moments like that. Still, that was not my proudest moment. As the howling wind drowned out my voice, I doubt the umpire or the other team was able to hear me at all. The two men in the stands wearing parkas looked at me and nodded their encouragement for me to keep yelling at the injustice.

In the end, the pitcher got a warning. A warning! My son would come home with three huge welts that took a week to go down. I don’t think he cared. In fact, like so many other idiosyncrasies in baseball, it was actually a badge of honor to get hit by the ball. As he slowly jogged to first base, past his teammates in the dugout, they, as only teenage boys can, were smiling and laughing and calling to my son.

“Wear it! Wear it! Wear it!”

My son smiled at them. The team was chanting almost in unison.

“Wear it! Wear it!”

That game is long since over. I think we lost. Nobody thinks about my son wearing those three welts anymore.

Later, it came to me. Isn’t that like us? Sometimes people wear the injustices and the bad pitches that life has thrown at them. It becomes who they are. They can think of, or talk about, nothing else. It seems to go in to their fiber and changes them.

Someone is unable to get pregnant and they feel like their body has failed them. Everyone around them is glowing pregnant and their body feels inadequate. A huge welt.

A parent driving to the principal’s office, or worse, to jail to bail out their child. On the way, every car in front of them has the ‘My kid is an honor student’ bumper sticker. Welt.

A spouse decides to leave a marriage. A business downsizes and has to let someone go. A person fails at staying sober. Or, someone has a dad who was never there for them. Failed out of school.

Rejected. Betrayed. Wounded.

Welt. Welt. Welt.

And we wear it.

Life has thrown us a terrible pitch and now it becomes who we are. We define ourselves by the injustice or the terrible choice we made. We think about it. We talk about it. We worry about it. We pray about it. It consumes us. It is not a badge of honor, but a badge of shame.

We no longer view ourselves as a child of God. We no longer feel free from condemnation. We no longer feel worthy of joy, peace and confidence.  The enemy is laughing and chanting from the sidelines, “Wear it! Wear it!” He wants us to be stuck the rest of our life with the label:

 Divorced

Addict

Alcoholic

Bad parent

Inadequate employee

Loser

But that is not what God says. The Bible says we have been forgiven, redeemed, free from condemnation, a citizen of heaven, worthy, bought with a price and adopted into the family of God. God doesn’t define us by our bad choices or the injustices done to us. In fact, He sent His Son to die for us so that we don’t have to wear it. We are a new person, washed clean and able to have confidence that God sees us as beautiful, no matter what we have been through. He has a wonderful plan and purpose for our lives and He is able to work all our bad circumstances together for good, if we will let Him.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wear the welts the world throws at me. I want to have joy and know that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me as a child of the King, forgiven, healed, whole and ready to do the good work He has prepared for me.

What about you? Are you still wearing the welts that life has pitched at you?

You might enjoy listening to this song:
"I am New" by Jason Gray