Across the Street

I am sitting in a hotel in Louisville, Kentucky, adjacent to a medical complex.  From my room on the third floor, I can see a short distance into the fifth floor of the building across the street.  Large windows the length of the building reveal a row of recliner chairs with an IV pole next to each.   In addition to the chairs, there appears to be one room that is private and has a cot in it.  I am guessing this area of the fifth floor to be a chemotherapy parlor.

A few minutes ago people began arriving and sitting in the chairs.  One man is accompanied by a woman who is sitting in a standard chair which she pulled up right next to the recliner.  I expect that she is holding his hand.  Perhaps this is a first time experience for the man in the chair.  A white coated nurse stood next to him talking at length...probably explaining what was about to happen.

Another man, with no hesitation on his arrival, turned his recliner around to face the window.  I am guessing this is not his first time.  Interesting, that his focus is outward.  I wonder if it will improve the odds of the chemo working.

I don't know any of these people across the street.  I will go about my day today attending a conference, while they allow a toxic substance to flow into their bodies, hoping that it will kill the cancer cells and not them.

I wish them well.

Children's Sermon-Getting dirty

Need: a pair of new work gloves and a pair of dirty work gloves.

(Here is what I said....you would need to adapt.)
I just bought this pair of work gloves for my husband. The label is still on, and they are perfectly clean. You can see no work has been done in them. (At this point, someone in the congregation called out a smart remark about my husband not doing any work and me trying to coerce him. I hadn't seen that coming.)
But, I have another pair of work gloves. When my son was a little boy...probably about 5 or 6...he was hanging around while his dad was working. I think they were stacking wood. He came in the house and said to me, "Mom, I need a pair of dirty little work gloves."
I replied, "I can get you a pair of work gloves, but you will need to put the dirt on them yourself."
This reminds me of the Bible verse in Phillipians that tells us "work out your own salvation."
When we accept Christ as our personal Savior, we receive eternal life, and we are set on a course for heaven. We do not get salvation by works...it is by faith in Christ. However, from that point on, we are supposed to be doing God's work in the world. We are responsible for putting the dirt on our own gloves.
The brand new work gloves are just like all the others on the rack at the store. The "dirty little work gloves" are special and one of a kind. Someone has lived life in them, done work in them. They have personality.
Each day of our lives, we should be asking God how He wants us to get our hands dirty that day. What work does He want us to do. That is how we "work out our own salvation." God didn't save us and put Jesus in our hearts, so that we could sit back and cruise into heaven. He has a job for each of us, and we need to discover for ourselves what that job is.
So go out and get your work gloves dirty!

The Theft of the Anatomically Correct

I am a nice little old Christian grandma. However, part of my job is to spread awareness of various cancers and ways to prevent and/or detect them. Hence, the following sad story.

Late in April, I was invited to attend a health fair at a high school which has a science fair the same evening. This results in a lot of attendees from the community, as parents and grandparents come to see their child or grandchild's science project. I set up my display with literature about breast, ovarian, prostate, testicular and skin cancer. I also have two anatomically correct models. One is a model of a breast with lumps in it, so that women can practice the correct way to do a self breast exam. The other is a model of testicles.

Testicular cancer is a young man's disease. It usually happens between the ages of 15 and 35. Just as women should do self breast exam each month, so young men should do self testicular exam once a month. This is done in a warm shower so that the scrotal sac is relaxed. The man should roll each testicle between his thumb and fore fingers and feel for any lumps. The testicle should be smooth.

The models were out on the table next to the appropriate literature. At one point in the evening, I was helping someone at one end of the table teaching the correct way to do self breast exam. I glanced at the other end of the table. The testicular model was gone. Someone stole my testicles!

Of course, I have no difficulty imagining that in a roomful of people there was at least one teenage boy who simply couldn't resist the urge. That is why when I go to such events, if I need to leave my table, I put the model back in the box and out of sight. But, I was standing right there. Apparently someone seized an opportunity while I was distracted.

I can only imagine what they are being used for....my best guess is that they are dangling from a rearview mirror.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day....ah, yes. That day when we are supposed to feel all warm and cozy inside and extol the virtues of motherhood and the impact mother's have on their children.
Mother-child relationships are very complicated.....especially, mother-daughter relationships. In my experience little boys adore their mothers no matter what. Little girls may idolize their mothers initially, but in the teenage years, some of them decide to challenge just who is the alpha female in the household.
During my teens years, no harsh word passed between my mother and me. We both worked at interacting in a respectful manner. I was, in many ways, very different from my mother, but that was perfectly OK with her. Therefore, I was ill prepared for what happened when my daughters were teenagers. I should qualify that by saying that one of my daughters and I got along every bit as well as I had with my mother. The other two.....not so much. Fortunately for me, while two of my daughters were doing pretty much everything they could to push the boundaries and to make me feel that I was an awful person and a disgrace to motherhood, I had a toddler boy who thought the sun rose and set upon me. This provided some sorely needed balance in my life. I had not planned on having this son, but God knew I needed him!
So, now all three of my daughters are mothers. I watch them struggle with various issues, and I remember. When they were giving me a rough time, not once did I ever wish they would get a dose of their own medicine....I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I take no pleasure now in listening to their anguish.
As a mother, my only real wish was for my children to grow up loving and serving God. I genuinely believe that this is the only way to be truly happy and fulfilled in life, so it is what I desparately want for my children. Before I had kids, I told God, "I will take any child you send me....I don't care about gender, level of intelligence, appearance, whether biological or adopted, race, or even physical health. I care about whether they know and love you."
So after years spent trying to instill values and teach both directly and by example, a mother has no choice but to sit back and watch what happens. Sometimes she can rejoice, and other times she grieves and helps to pick up the pieces of a life shattered by poor choices.
In summary, I don't need to go to an amusement park on Mother's Day...motherhood itself is an extreme roller-coaster ride. Sometimes I shriek in glee and other times in terror.

African Violets

I do not have a good history with African violets. Several times in my life, I have been given an African Violet with lovely blossoms. Under my care, those blossoms have run their normal course, but the plant has never blossomed again.
Last June my sister-in-law brought my husband and me an exquisite basket of African violets for our 40th anniversary. The basket contained 5 different varieties of violets in full bloom. I simultaneously experienced delight and a sinking sensation.
"Oh, yes, they are gorgeous!"
"Oh, no, how will I keep them alive!"
I told my sister-in-law that I have a lousy history in violet horticulture. I have tried in the past to water them appropriately, being careful not to get water on the leaves, and to place them where they get light, but not direct rays of the sun. But, I never see another blossom after the intial ones fall off. She said, "Oh, well, they will last at least as long as a cut flower arrangement."
I did enjoy the blossoms, while they lasted. Then for months only greenery was evident. I watered them somewhat infrequently, and I did NOT talk to the plants and "pat their little leaves." I had an aunt who had beautiful African violets who claimed that was the secret.
Wonder of wonders, this time benign neglect worked!
A week ago delicate purple and white blossoms appeared on one of the five plants. A couple of days ago a second plant showed signs of developing stems with blossoms on the ends. I can't tell what color they are going to be yet, but I am excited.
After 40 years, the miracle is happening.
I can think of some other miracles for which I have been waiting for decades. Sigh. Perhaps, I should wait more hopefully.

The Lock on the Back Door

The lock on the back door has been a source of frustration for months. First it was difficult to open. Then there were days when it was impossible to open, I had to put down everything in my arms to work at it...unsuccessfully...then go around to the front door to get it in. Finally it became impossible to close it without the key.
I have been complaining for months. My husband said that we actually had a new lock still in the package in the basement. Weeks later, he decided to put the lock on.
My husband is a very intelligent man, but he does not enjoy handyman projects. He is extremely perfectionistic, and if anything goes wrong or doesn't line up correctly, he gets upset. Of course, this means that he always gets upset with projects, because Murphy's Law runs rampant in the world.
So, he got the new lock out of the package and got far enough to decide that something was "too long." He was convinced that he couldn't do it, and we would end up with a door which couldn't be locked. He refused to continue unless I knew of someone he could call for help. I was busy with something else at that point, and sort of ignored the fact that he gave up.
Fast forward another month...I didn't go to work today and planned to spend the day cleaning. However, this morning the lock problem occurred to me....well, that would be because the new lock was out of the package and laying in pieces on the kitchen counter that I was trying to straighten up.
Hmmm....why not do this myself?
When I was in high school and we took aptitude tests, the guidance counselor told me with a chuckle that I had wiped out all the guys in the class in the portion of the test on mechanics. He joked that I should be a garage mechanic. That was about 1961. If I were growing up today, the combination of that and my 99th percentile math ability would probably result in the recommendation that I consider mechanical engineering. However, when I was in high school, I was even told that I had to take typing instead of mechanical drawing, because it was more useful to girls. In any event, I was pretty confident of my ability to change the lock on the back door.
My husband was right....there were two screws that were too long. But, the directions indicated that this might be true, and stated that there were break off points on the screws. I didn't have the physical strength to break them off, even with a pliers. But, I went to the basement, put the screws in the vise, and sawed them off to the correct length with a hacksaw.
When my husband came home, the new lock was on and the new key was at his place at the table. He asked if I'd found someone to put it on. I told him that the person in my high school class with the highest aptitude in mechanics had done it. I added that he shouldn't feel bad about that. He laughed and said that he didn't.
Lucky, my husband and I enjoy each others strong suits. He is currently outside mowing the lawn.

What if Jeremiah is right?

Last night I read Jeremiah chapter 5 and was struck by the last two verses in that chapter.
A horrible and shocking thing has happened in the land: the prophets prophesy lies, the priests rule by their own authority, and my people love it this way. But what will you do in the end?
If for prophets, I substitute politicians and the talking heads of the media, and if for priests, I substitute the religious and "spiritual" leaders in our culture, it sounds like a description of our society today.
We may complain about politicians, but we don't mind their lies, as long as our lives are prosperous and everything is going well for us personally. We want to believe that there is someone to blame for any problems we do have, other than ourselves. So, if they point the finger at the party that is not in power, or some specific element of our society that we personally aren't part of, or something foreign, we can nod and agree, as long as our own greed, self-interest and resultant poor choices aren't to blame.
When religious and spiritual leaders promote a spirituality that allows us to pick and chose what we believe, we like that. We can draw from something mystical with no committment involved. If there were actually a God who is creator and sustainer of the universe, who desires to know us and be known to us, that would involve some accountability and responsiveness on our part. It's just easier not to deal with that!
The problem, of course, is what will you do in the end?
And the solution is not to believe in an end. How convenient. What if the "prophets" and "priests" are lying, and there actually is an end? What if there is a time when we will be held accountable?

Rhubarb Leaves

Prepare ahead: obtain a stalk of rhubarb with the leaf still attached.

One of my favorite things about this time of year is that I have rhubarb growing in my back yard. Some people don't like rhubarb, but I think it is wonderful. Rhubarb is also known as "pie plant. You can cut off the leaf and throw it away, then cut the stalk into small sections. It makes wonderful pies when mixed with sugar, spices and thickening, and baked in a pie crust.
The leaf is always cut off, because it is poisonous. How do you think that people first figured out long ago that the stalk could be eaten, but the leaf was poison?
(One of the children will probably answer that someone ate a leaf and either got sick or died.)
Right...that's probably how it happened. Now we could send a leaf to a lab and have it analyzed to figure out exactly what is in it, but long ago, there were no labs to figure things like that out. Someone did probably get sick or die from eating rhubarb leaves.
Suppose you were there when it happened, but you never told anyone, and didn't say a word, when someone else tried to eat a leaf? That would be wrong, wouldn't it. If there are "dos and don'ts" that are helpful and protect others from harm, we should tell them and spare them the injury.
In the Old Testament, God gave lots of laws to His people. Along with the other instructions, He made it clear that these rules were to be shared. In Deuteronomy 4:1, it says, "Hear now...the decrees and laws I am about to teach you. Follow them so that you may live." Later in verse 9, this is added, "Teach them to your children and to their children after them."
When Jesus died on the cross for us, He freed us from keeping all the strict laws of the Old Testament. But the idea still holds, that when we know something that is true and helpful, we should share it with other people.
We know that Jesus died for us to pay the price for our sins. We know that if we ask Him to forgive us and come into our lives, we can find real peace and joy. That's wonderful news that is helpful to people who are sad and in need of someone to love and comfort them. We should be sharing it. Don't keep it to yourself!