Innholdsfortegnelse for March/April 2023 i Mornings with Jesus

Moment. There are quite a few definitions of this word according to Merriam-Webster, including “a minute portion of time,” “present time,” “a time of excellence.” I saw a T-shirt the other day that said, “Life is short. Enjoy the little moments.” That got me thinking about what constitutes a little moment. I suspect one person’s little moment might actually be another person’s large moment. The first new bloom on a flowering cherry tree. The dog running across the yard when he sees me pull in the driveway at the end of the day. A wave from a neighbor walking down the street. Dinner with my family at the table. A clear night with lots of stars. Are these little moments? Large moments? Yes and yes! Little and large, they are…

IT WAS A HARD BUT necessary lesson. Refusing to ignore it any longer, I took a look at all the automatic renewals on my credit card. I didn’t even recognize some of the companies to which I’d been paying a monthly or annual fee. It happens. I’m probably not the only person who forgot to cancel a trial subscription, or who decided on the paid version of software I experimented with, then realized it was more cumbersome than what I was already using. It was time to clean up those oversights. The sums weren’t huge, but I was paying without reaping the promised benefits. Stagnant, inactive, unnecessary. As I finished unsubscribing and deleting, it occurred to me that sometimes I treat my faith in Jesus as an automatic renewal. It’s…

RECENTLY, MY SISTER ERICA TEXTED me a baby picture of herself sandwiched between her two granddaughters’ pictures. The three of them could have been triplets. Erica’s daughter is glad her girls inherited their grandma’s looks. I called Erica as soon as I saw the picture. “Girl, you’ve got some strong genes!” My own boys don’t look much like me, or Scott, or each other. They are uniquely their own people. But one thing we all have in common is our sense of humor. Our “funny gene” has been passed down to the next generation. Our sons may not physically look like us, but the humorous way they look at life is an inherited family trait. Jesus’s family traits are written on the hearts and in the behavior of everyone who…

MY STINT AS A PUBLIC high school teacher was positive in some respects but deeply disillusioning overall. As a longtime work-athome mom who lived in something of a spiritual bubble, being knee-deep in a broad cross section of humanity was eye-opening. Many days, I'd leave school in tears or enraged over the impact of my students' dysfunctional homes and lack of moral training. It troubled me to see exhausted, underappreciated teachers and to be one myself. I struggled with the futility of my efforts to make a difference. How could me being in the classroom make things better? I lamented my plight to a friend. She listened with empathy. “Now you know how God felt,” she whispered. “That’s why He sent Jesus.” Our perfect God, full of mercy, loving-kindness, and…

MY CHURCH DECIDED TO CREATE a library of video-recorded hymns to use in online services. The music director asked for soloists and duettists to come in and record a few songs. With more enthusiasm than sense, I signed up for a duet with my husband. The night we were scheduled to record, I was fighting laryngitis. When we began the first hymn, the music director stopped us. “Sharon, you’re straining on the high notes.” He coached me, and the organist lowered the key. I felt embarrassed, wishing I was a stronger singer. Then we started “Beautiful Savior.” When we reached verse two, I confidently belted out verse three by mistake. We had to stop and start over. When we sang “Abide with Me,” I cheerfully sang a choral arrangement I’d…

I’M STANDING OUTSIDE ON MY deck in early spring, surveying the patio below where a bunch of ceramic and plastic pots are filled with dead plants. It’s a somewhat depressing sight, and I wonder if the perennials will come back to life. I know they won’t with any help from me—I’m a serial plant killer. My husband, Hal, is the one with the green thumb. He’s out there, early in the season, tidying up the space and preparing for the new growth. I know in my heart that when spring really kicks in, many of those sad-looking plants will begin to sprout and later flourish. What I see now is only temporary. Change is happening in the garden; I just can't discern it with my eyes. In my mind, I…

MY COAUTHOR AND FRIEND, BETH, often tells me she’d like to have a more outgoing personality. “I have to think about everything I say and always second-guess myself. I wish I were more spontaneous, like you.” But I disagree. I may act and speak quickly, but that impetuousness gets me into trouble more often than I care to admit. I pray— a lot—to control my words and impulses. Actually, when I think about it, I should be more like her. Beth is the perfect balance for my gregarious, bold nature. Just having her in the same room with me is calming and helps me focus. Her insights and wisdom, spoken in a soothing tone, often keep me from making foolish mistakes. Jesus knew what He was doing when He made…

I WAS A TIMID KID, insecure and often picked on. I also faced many family issues I simply could not fix, no matter how hard I tried. Weakness, I thought, was definitely bad. Very bad. This notion persisted well into adulthood and even after meeting Jesus. I was conditioned to develop and muster strength to tackle any obstacle, task, or problem with all my might. If it didn’t work? Well, that just meant I needed to redouble my efforts and try harder. Mostly, this approach not only didn’t work, but it also exhausted me. Often, this fatigue would lead to my getting sick. True to form, I’d power through, artificially energized by DayQuil and too much coffee. I’d get so sick that, eventually, I could do nothing but lie in…

WHEN MY HUSBAND, DAVID, SUFFERED a life-threatening accident, I reeled beneath the weight of it. His injuries left him physically debilitated and mentally fragile. The hours slipped past as I juggled his medicines, prepared meals, and helped with his personal hygiene. During his naps, I converted our home to be handicapped accessible. I plotted my time like an emergency room doctor, making the most of every second, each moment a testimony of both my love and my self-perceived capability under duress. By the time night fell, I’d collapse into bed, overtired and unable to sleep. I was overwhelmed. Then reality crept in. I couldn’t do everything all the time. I dearly loved my husband, but I broke under the burden of caring for him. Enter my loved ones. Each of…

I’VE ALWAYS LOVED VOLUNTEERING. OVER the years, I’ve served in a wide variety of roles at church, ranging from chairing committees to staining baseboards during a remodel and everything in between. While my kids were in school, I helped with classroom parties, listened to students read so they could earn prizes, and sat on the P.T.O. board. Looking back, I realize that whether I was lining up a cleanup crew or planning a Christmas dinner, there always seemed to be one or two certain people I could count on. Those dependable folks were always ready, willing, and able to jump in and serve wherever needed. Matthew 26:17-19 tells about someone who jumped at a chance to serve Jesus when needed. Looking ahead to Passover, Jesus instructed Peter and John to…

FOR MONTHS, I PUT OFF washing the windows across the back of my house. Centered behind a flower bed in our backyard, they were hard to reach. It was much easier to ignore the layers of grime that had built up on the window screens than fight the overgrown tree limbs and bushes that blocked them. But when rumors of quarantining first echoed through the world in 2020, my windows came to mind. I couldn’t be stuck at home for an extended amount of time with those dirty windows blocking the sunlight. After an afternoon scrubbing the screens and polishing the windows with a special glass cleaner, I went inside to survey the results. I was amazed by how much brighter it was now that the light could pour in…

KEN AND REBECCA LOVED TO surprise their friends with unexpected gifts—a pot of cheerful flowers on the front porch, a gift card to a restaurant in the mail, a basket of fresh peaches on the church pew. Just before Palm Sunday one year, they loaded blessings into their truck and began their route from house to house. When my parents answered the knock at their door, Ken presented them with a three-foot cross made from treated pine. “Happy Easter!” he said. “Hammer this into the ground at the end of your driveway.” Rebecca handed them three sashes: one purple, one black, and one white. “Drape the purple one on the cross on Palm Sunday,” she said. “Purple stands for royalty and for King Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey.…

“MR. SELBY, YOU CAN’T TAKE that into the operating room. You’ll have to leave it with your wife,” the nurse said. My dad tightened his grip around the tiny metal cross in his right hand. “Then I won’t have surgery,” he stated. The cross was a gift from my daughter to her papaw, engraved with the words “God loves you.” He had found great comfort by carrying it into multiple surgeries. ”But you know you really need this heart stent,” the nurse pleaded. “Nope. Not without my cross.” Eventually, the nurse gave in, and the staff wheeled him down the hall, cross in hand. Dad had endured so many procedures that I’d lost count. Each time, in the presurgery room, he joked and laughed and acted confident. But I realized…

“WHICH FLAG BELONGS TO YOUR state, Becky?” a guest on my Kennedy Center tour asked. “The least creative one in the entire Hall of States,” I said, pointing at the Alabama flag hanging from the ceiling. The plain red X on a solid white background seemed dull to me. I preferred the yellow and red sunset rays on the Arizona flag or the white magnolia blossom above “In God We Trust” on the Mississippi flag, or the farmer, covered wagons, and riverboat on the Kansas flag. A bit of research into the meaning of my state flag, however, changed my opinion. The X represented a Christian symbol known as the “Cross of Saint Andrew.” Andrew was one of the first disciples called by Jesus. He heard Jesus teach in person,…

JUDSON STUDIED EACH WORD BEFORE slowly pronouncing it out loud. “Should I sip a fizzy soda through a curvy, crazy straw?” “Good, Judson,” I said. “Keep going.” I tutored the blond-haired second-grader on Tuesdays after school. He tried hard, and his family helped him, but he still struggled to read. “Or munch a sour pickle sure to pucker up my jaw?" He rubbed his eyes and sat back in his chair, frustrated and exhausted. Judson’s poor grades in all subjects puzzled his teacher. He was bright and articulate in conversation. Might he have a vision problem? The teacher contacted his parents, and a visit to the optometrist confirmed it—Judson needed glasses. Immediately, he flourished in his schoolwork and, after a short period of time, no longer required my assistance. To…

PAM, ONE OF MY BEST friends, is a personal trainer. When I pulled a muscle in my back recently, I asked her to teach me some stretches that could help strengthen the area. As she showed me different moves, she emphasized the need to lean into each stretch for at least thirty seconds. Apparently, muscles have a defensive reflex for protection. When engaged, they automatically tighten as a way to avoid being stretched too far. Pam told me I needed to remain in each position, waiting for the reflex to let go. After that is when the change occurs and the muscle extends. I have a defensive reflex when I read my Bible. I automatically think of someone else who could benefit from that day’s message. It’s my way of…

I USED TO HATE THE lady described in Proverbs as “an excellent woman.” Well, not really hate her, but all of her noble endeavors intimidated me. Any woman who rises before the sun, buys a field and plants a vineyard, helps the poor, sews her own clothes, and always honors the Lord is too perfect. How could I measure up? When I complained to my pastor/husband, Kevin, about that perfect lady, he enlightened me. “These are her accomplishments over a lifetime,” he explained. Aha. Kevin’s insight made me feel better. And when I read how Jesus treated women, I feel a lot better. In an era when females weren’t considered valuable, Jesus gave them dignity and significance. Instead of shaming the unclean woman who touched the hem of His robe…

I’VE BEEN BLESSED TO NEVER have had any known enemies. Sure, there have been people over the years that I’ve disagreed with or didn’t click with. Nonetheless, I always treated each one with respect. I believe that we should love and pray for our enemies. Right now, as a troubling divide continues to widen in our country, I find myself labeling “the other side” my “enemy.” I bring those on the other side into my prayer time, pleading with Jesus to do whatever is necessary to change their hearts to draw our world back to Him. But one day as I sat at Jesus’s feet, He revealed that when I use the words “us” and “them,” I am feeding the divide. Such terms assume one side is right and the…

MY OLDEST SON, GIDEON, BEGAN playing cello in sixth grade and was often required to play “living room concerts” for us in order to prepare for school performances. During his last living room concert of junior high school, he put his bow in his lap midway through his second song and stared at his sheet music for an uncomfortable amount of time. “I have eight measures of rests right now,” he finally explained. “Just pretend you can hear the other instruments playing.” Later that week, when I heard him perform the same composition with the full school orchestra, it was an entirely different experience, completely devoid of any awkward moments. This time, I barely noticed when his cello went silent because the music continued with violins, violas, and basses. As…

I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4 (NIV) MY TWO-YEAR-OLD GRANDDAUGHTER, LEXI, IS frightened by loud noises. We dare not turn on the kitchen blender or use the coffee grinder without warning her first. We can’t use the vacuum cleaner when she’s in the room. When someone mows the lawn, she needs to stay inside. Lexi recently noticed the sound of the furnace running. She wondered what was making that sound, so I carried her into the utility room. “This is the noisemaker. It’s called a furnace,” I said softly. Her grip on me tightened, but she didn’t cry, so I pointed out the washing machine and dryer and explained how helpful they were to her mommy. Then she saw…

I’M CONTENT WITH ALMOST ALL of the words Jesus used when instructing His disciples how to pray. Apparently, like many of us, they had been uncertain they were doing it right. Jesus countered that one’s heart, attitude, and approach needed to be right, rather than specific words (Matthew 6:5-8). I appreciate the “hallowed be thy name” part and the “thy kingdom come, thy will be done” portion of the Lord’s Prayer. I lean on “give us this day” and quickly ask forgiveness for my transgressions. But yesterday I was stuck on a less comfortable phrase that, despite being a prayer directive from Jesus, is one I’ve slid over too lightly. “Deliver us from evil.” There it was on the page before me. It did not say, “grow complacent with evil,…

MARCH Every flower must grow through dirt. I’M CURRENTLY JUGGLING AN ARRAY of projects in process. That’s because I’m converting a forty-foot school bus into a rolling home. This entails a multitude of do-it-yourself projects: planning and designing the layout; installing electrical, heating, cooling, plumbing, flooring, and window coverings; and choosing paint colors, fixtures, appliances, and more. If I wasn’t having so much fun with this challenge, I’d feel overwhelmed by this big project. Especially since follow-through isn’t my strength. Realizing the magnitude of this undertaking, I’m inspired by the characteristic follow-through of Jesus. He successfully completed every single thing He set out to do. From the creation of the world to the salvation of humankind, Jesus is a finisher. I’m relying on Him to give me the help and…

MY HUSBAND, STEVE, AND I have moved a lot over two decades of marriage. First, we moved into our starter home, then remodeled and flipped a few houses along the way; we even downsized at one point. But with all the upheaval, I wondered if Jesus was moving our family forward. He’d moved us again and again and again, in and out of jobs and homes. I felt like we kept circling, instead of landing. Last year, we sensed God was preparing us to relocate, again. Really, Jesus? I wanted to ask. We went through the familiar motions. Our home sold in two days with multiple offers. It took us three tries to buy our current home (sight unseen, God bless our realtor). We were down to the wire before…

I OPENED THE EMAIL AND quickly became irritated. I’d helped organize a program and the sender wasn’t pleased about the way something had been handled. I agreed that all hadn’t gone as smoothly as I had planned. What ruffled my feathers was the cranky, snarky tone of the message. My first reaction was to fire off an equally rude response. But after taking a few minutes to calm down, I decided against it. Lord Jesus, what should I do? How should I respond? I thought. Extend grace was what I heard in my spirit. No! I can’t do that, I said to myself. But then I sought guidance from a trusted friend. “Apologize,” she said. I pushed back. She repeated, “Apologize.” I told her I would, but I was still…

ONE SUNDAY, MY HUSBAND, ZANE, invited a young couple over for dinner without asking me. That afternoon, we were already hosting our small group, so I felt overwhelmed. When we got home, I scurried around cleaning the house. I found myself grumbling about entertaining so many people. Couldn’t he have invited the couple over a different night? I thought as I threw dog toys into a basket. I was in a crummy mood, definitely not an attitude of hospitality, at least not the type of hospitality Jesus modeled. Jesus, of course, didn’t grumble when He made a meal for thousands of hungry people out of fish and bread without a kitchen (Luke 9:16). He created an intimate moment of connection by cooking breakfast over a fire on the beach for…

MY OLDEST SON, ZACK, SIGNED up for boxing last year. We bought all the gear, but one essential item he used drove me nuts—his wraps. Wraps are two-inch-wide, fifteen-foot-long strips of fabric with Velcro on the end. Wound around the knuckles and wrists, they provide protection. Because Zack’s hands sweat, I had to wash his wraps between classes. Those long, sticky wraps always came out of the washer tangled. As I fought to unsnarl the endless length of wet fabric to line-dry them, my irritation level rose, especially when the Velcro kept grabbing on, complicating the process. I was thrilled when I found a wrapless version that slipped on like fingerless gloves. It would make the hassle of my sparring with Zack’s extra laundry items so much easier. But when…

I’VE DISCOVERED THAT AT A certain age, one’s junk mail takes on new themes. Several years ago, my husband and I began receiving cards and letters that, on the surface, look like desirable invitations— often to a nice dinner free of charge. In reality, these mailings are attempts to lure us into attending sales pitches for different Medicare plans, investment services, and even hearing aids. We RSVP by tossing them in the trash. My favorite invitations are the ones from Jesus, printed in the Bible. First, He invites us to accept forgiveness for our sins and receive eternal life (John 3:16). Then, He bids us to follow Him and help build His kingdom (Matthew 4:19); live abundantly (John 10:10); and come to Him when we feel weary, burdened, and need…

I’M NOT TYPICALLY A FEARFUL person, but approaching border security guards unnerves me. One time, a uniformed, gun-packing guard did a random check of my belongings and found a sandwich bag filled with sugar snap peas in my backpack. It had been there for a week, and I’d completely forgotten about it. He accused me of smuggling and interrogated me to see if he could catch me in a lie. Thankfully, he believed my explanation and waived a threehundred-dollar fine for failing to declare an agricultural product. Ever since, I’ve wondered if the stress of forgetting something critical makes me look like a nervous, suspicious traveler. There’s a stark contrast between how I feel about approaching border guards and how I feel about approaching God in prayer. In Old Testament…

MY EIGHTY-SOMETHING-YEAR-OLD COFFEE BUDDY, PAT, walks two miles every morning, texts a prayer to nearly one hundred people each day, and spends many afternoons mentoring me in my new season of life as an empty nester. Recently, I began to notice changes in her complexion and exhaustion in her eyes. Pat confessed she’d been skipping her walks and taking more naps. We both agreed she should see a doctor. First, the doctor scheduled an EKG, then an echocardiogram, and finally a stress test. Nothing peculiar surfaced, so he adjusted her medication. “The doctor says I have a good heart,” she reported. A good heart indeed! No medical testing is required to reveal Pat’s goodness. She organizes Bible studies and prayer groups, recruits for a global mission project, and raises money…

YESTERDAY I READ AN ARTICLE about commitment to Jesus. Afterward, I brooded. What’s wrong with me? I spend time worshipping and talking with God every morning. But most days I feel no excitement or zeal. Am I a lukewarm Christian? Near the end of the day, I took my feelings to the One who knows everything. Before I even finished, He sweetly reminded me of the scene in Luke 10. A group of Jesus’s followers returned from a mission trip. When they reported their success to Him, Jesus praised God with joyful abandon. I also recalled how Jesus grieved over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41), sighed over religious leaders who wanted a sign instead of relying on faith (Mark 8:12), and tossed thieves out of the temple in righteous anger (John 2:14-16).…

I HUSTLED FROM THE GREETING card shop to my car, preoccupied with the next errand I needed to run. I pressed my clicker key and heard the reassuring beep beep, then hopped into the front seat of my car. And onto the lap of a strange man! Panicked, I asked, Lord, why is this man in my car? And I heard the Lord whisper, Pat, this is not your car. Mortified and scared, I jumped up, apologized, and scrambled out of the car. The man could have been a murderer, a kidnapper, or at the very least, a purse snatcher, but Jesus protected me. “I’m so sorry,” I babbled. “I have a silver car, see, there it is right across from you, and all silver cars look the same to…

AT FORTY-EIGHT, I NEVER EXPECTED to be one of the youngest women in our small Bible study group, which included homeschool families. Most members were senior citizens, some in their nineties. I was also the only one in my group who brought children to the concurrent program. After taking my six kids to their classes, I usually arrived frazzled, had little to offer compared to others’ insights, and hurried out afterward. When it was announced that everyone would go to lunch the following week, I quickly declined. Taking my whole crew to a sitdown restaurant wasn’t in our budget. But the elderly ladies in my group insisted. They said they wanted to meet my children so much that six of them had come up with the idea to pay for…

AFTER LIVING IN A RATHER tiny bubble as a work-at-home mom for many years, my stint as a public high school teacher dramatically broadened my appreciation of diversity. I’ve always considered myself a cosmopolitan people person, but the variety of individuals I met while teaching humbled me. My classes had students of multiple nationalities, including those who didn’t speak English at all. Many had family backgrounds, life experiences, economics, and spiritual traditions that were dramatically different from mine. Personalities, skills, talents, and academic orientation covered the gamut. Highly motivated to help them, I sought to understand the teens in order to connect with them as individuals and to teach each one as best I could. It was very difficult work for many reasons, and I leaned heavily on Jesus, praying…

I HANDED MY FIVE-YEAR-OLD GRANDDAUGHTER, Sadie, a pretty cross, crocheted from threads of yellow, blue, green, and pink. “My friend Kathie made Bible bookmarks for us,” I explained. Picking up her children’s Bible, I located the picture of Jesus on the cross and began: “Jesus died on the cross. Everyone who loved Him felt sad. But they forgot something important. Jesus had said He would see them again soon.” I placed Sadie’s crocheted cross between the pages and closed the book. "Wait, wait, wait!” she exclaimed. “Read more." I smiled, found the bookmark, and continued. “Jesus’s friends sealed His tomb shut with a big round stone. Three days later, an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and pushed that stone away.” Sadie used to beg me to read…

OUR EASTER SHOPPING LIST INCLUDED a ten-foot-long board, nails, a roll of chicken-wire fencing, a staple gun, and several baskets of cut flowers. My husband sawed and hammered to create a simple wooden cross and then stapled fencing over each part. Not a pretty sight but exactly what we needed for our church service. Families arrived on Sunday morning wearing yellows and blues, bonnets and ties, sandals and shiny shoes. As they entered the worship center, the ugly cross at the front caught their attention. With wide eyes, kids pointed and asked, “What’s that?” Adults did their best to explain, though they weren’t sure themselves. The pastor began, “The cross once symbolized sin and death. But because of Jesus’s resurrection, the cross now symbolizes grace and eternal life. Join me…

MY HUSBAND RECENTLY BOUGHT THE truck of his dreams. It has all the bells and whistles—heated seats (with a massage feature), satellite radio, sensors that assist with parking, a premium sound system, and rain-sensing windshield wipers. There are so many fancy features that even now, months later, Hal still doesn’t know how more than half of them work. “Yeah, I gotta read the manual to figure that out,” Hal often says while we’re driving, after I ask why an icon on the digital dashboard lights up. I frequently remind him that he’s missing out on enjoying a lot of the great benefits the truck has to offer. I have to say that I’m guilty of the same. Sometimes I miss taking advantage of all the benefits in the most important…

I GROANED AS I LOOKED at my watch and saw that the hands had not moved. Having a solar-powered timepiece had been great—for two years. No need to ever change the battery and nothing special to do to ensure that the watch absorbed enough light. Then, suddenly, it became unreliable. After a couple of weeks, I left it in a sunny window all afternoon and reset it. Success! I put it back in my jewelry box, but the next morning it wasn’t working again. The warranty had expired and repairs would likely be too expensive, so I got ready to throw the watch away. As a last resort, I retrieved the little booklet that still sat in the box. Then I read this warning: The watch will be adversely affected…

I FOUND A HILARIOUS PICTURE online the other day. A mom, trying to get things done, had tucked her six-month-old baby inside her shorts. The baby looked completely content as its feet dangled through each of the mom’s leg openings. I texted the photo to my nieces, Aly and Claire, who have babies. In response, they sent me selfies of their own. Claire gripped the back waistband of her yoga pants, while her son was secure in front of her. Aly’s daughter fit perfectly inside the front of her shorts. Both babies were snuggled next to their moms, completely at ease and trusting, despite not having a clue what was going on. Being close is what moms and babies are all about. Being close is what Jesus is all about…

I COULDN’T BELIEVE MY EYES as I read the comment on a social media post. An acquaintance was extremely upset by something she thought I’d said. Clicking on the original post, I released the breath I’d been holding. Another woman with my name had said harsh words, and I’d been tagged by mistake. It hurt my heart to see the abrasive things the other Tricia had said. I quickly untagged myself and said a prayer for the situation. With social media, it’s easy for me to hide behind a screen and spout whatever is on my mind or place blame, whether warranted or not, on others. But the Bible states that true wisdom is considering our words and caring for the person or people who are listening. Before I post,…

MY HUSBAND, HAL, IS VERY particular about his coffee mugs. He says coffee just doesn’t taste as good unless it’s in the right cup. His favorite mug is one he received as a gift from the diaconate ministry with the words, “Serving with the joy of Jesus” on one side. So when Hal broke that mug, I expected him to have a moment of anguish, then proceed to throw away the pieces, select another cup, and move on. That’s what I would have done. Imagine my surprise the next day when I opened the kitchen cabinet. There was the coffee mug! Hal had used Super Glue to repair the handle, which had broken into three pieces. The cup wasn’t as perfect, but it was still functional. Hal continued to use…

TEACHING A TEEN TO DRIVE may be the reason ibuprofen was invented. Each teen driver in our family brought his or her own set of curiosities to the process. One feared nothing. One feared everything. One was a natural. Six were not. The most recent new driver in the family “invited” me to ride with her as she logged hours behind the wheel. She prefaced the invitation with, “I don’t like anyone trying to teach me something while I drive. Don’t give me instructions unless someone’s life is in danger, okay?” She might have meant it sincerely, but as I climbed into the passenger seat, my conclusion was that my life probably would be in danger at some point during our drive. How can an inexperienced driver learn without instruction?…

THE WILLAMETTE VALLEY BAKED IN the midst of a heat wave, so I spent the morning watering the garden. As I bent to place the sprinkler in one of its last positions, I noticed several of my primroses looked terrible. Their leaves had wilted, and the blooms withered. We’d placed these flowers at the edge of a flower bed, surrounding a fountain. As I investigated, I discovered that some of the plants lay just beyond the radius of the water’s spray. As other parts of the yard soaked up life-sustaining moisture, these blossoms waited just inches away, shriveled and dying. I repositioned the watering system, making certain the entire area was covered. I’d noticed the problem and made the necessary adjustment just in time. Before I found my way to…

I’M A TEACHER AT A small private school where elementary, junior high, and high school kids and staff meet in separate buildings on one campus. Every morning, after I put my belongings in my classroom, I grab my coffee cup and make the long walk across campus to the main building where the industrial coffee machine is located. No matter how early I arrive, I’m always in a rush to get back to my classroom so I can tie up loose ends before the first bell rings. I often cross paths with other teachers, and over time I noticed a significant difference between another teacher and me. When Jenny walks her daughter to class each morning, she never seems to be in a rush. While my walk seems underscored by…

THIS MORNING, I DRANK MY tea from a ceramic mug with painted images of birds sitting on a wire. The cup used to be my mom’s. Now, a week after her funeral, I cherished the memories of how much she loved her morning coffee and how often she watched and identified birds outside her window. The picture on the mug also brought to mind one of her favorite hymns—“His Eye Is on the Sparrow.” At a time when I’m grappling with exhaustion and grief, I thought about sparrows. They are small, common, everyday birds that Jesus says are cherished by God. I’m not like a majestic eagle or a brilliantly plumed macaw. And that’s all right. In my ordinary ways, my Savior sees me, knows me, and loves me. His…

OUR CAT, EARL, WAS NOT at the door one morning, demanding to be fed, as usual. I wasn’t particularly concerned, but as the day wore on and Earl didn’t appear, I worried. I beseeched Jesus to send the feisty stray, whom we’d adopted a few years earlier, home. Night fell and still no Earl. I put a picture of him on a lost pet Facebook page. I walked around the neighborhood calling his name. I put flyers in nearby mailboxes. I barely slept as I begged Jesus to send Earl home. The next morning, I hurried to the door, but Earl wasn’t there. All day long, I searched, called, and prayed. By the third morning, Earl had still not appeared. With a heavy heart, I gave up and stopped praying.…

A FEW MONTHS AGO, I received a message from my friend Gabi, who lives in the Czech Republic. “My new granddaughter is here, in your part of the world,” she said. “And my grandson will be joining our family soon, in your part of the world,” I replied. Gabi and I met fifteen years ago on a mission trip. In the years since, my daughter moved there and married a Czech man. And Gabi’s daughter moved to the United States and married an American. Our friendship is built on our love for Jesus, and Jesus has connected us across the nations. I used to think Jesus’s love was for Christians like me. However, the longer I followed Him, the more I understood Jesus’s love was also for those unlike me—others…

OUR TWO-YEAR-OLD CHOCOLATE LABRADOR, ODY, loves the outdoors. The other day I found him outside the front door. “How did you get out?” I said as I let him in. Then, he escaped again. I was puzzled until one day I saw him jump up and hit the downstairs door handle, which is a lever. He pulled it down with his paws and opened the door. He had figured out the key to his freedom—the door handle. I wondered what my life would be like if I escaped the confines of my world and lived freer. Every day I have a long to-do list. I’ve even started getting up at 5:30 a.m. to get it all done. Because I work at home and have taken on all sorts of obligations,…

MY CAT, IVY, ADOPTED FROM a farm, proves that although you can take a cat out of the country, you can’t take the country out of the cat. She loves to hunt and is an excellent mouser. One bright spring morning, she stood before me in the living room, her stance proud. And then she dropped a surprise offering at my feet. She'd brought in a bird—an unhurt but terrified bird. It immediately flapped its wings and flitted to a windowsill. My husband and I formulated a plan on how to catch it. Minutes later, we carried the frightened creature to our front yard, careful to lock Ivy indoors. As we set the tiny bird on our porch railing, she stood stock-still, then seemed to shake the situation off. A…

I FIND MYSELF SITTING FOR hours while working from home. I become so absorbed in what I’m doing that I forget to get up and move around. It didn’t take long for my aging body, especially my knees, to signal that I had to make some changes. Since I can’t always break away for an outdoor walk or a treadmill workout, I decided that I would do something quick and easy that I enjoy: dance. I played a couple of my favorite R&B or funk tunes and shimmied in my kitchen when no one was watching. I loved the heart-pumping music and ability to freely move. After a few days, it occurred to me that I could turn my midday dance party into a midday praise break. I remembered that…

I’M ALWAYS TRYING A NEW fitness gadget or changing my exercise routine to lose weight and rebuild my muscles. My latest workout plan includes a hula hoop. Before that, I bought a pair of professionally fitted running shoes. The first few weeks of exercising are always exhilarating, but before long, I run out of steam to keep it up. I quickly forget about what motivated me in the first place. I take my eyes off the prize, my goal, and lose focus. It’s natural to want to give up when I’m tired, bored with my gadgets, not seeing results from routines, or just a little too comfortable carrying around that extra weight. When I get discouraged, I picture Jesus facing me, running backward, taking two fingers to point to His…

I HAD AN INSIGHTFUL DREAM where I was riding a bike through our town of Boulder, Colorado, carrying all three of my adult sons. One was on the handlebars, and the other two were in a cart I was pulling. I was struggling to ride up a hill. I glanced at my feet, exerting all of my strength, but I was unable to pedal because of the heavy load. This dream gracefully awakened me to grasp that I still worry about my children, even though they are capable adults. I know the boys don’t want me to worry about them. And Jesus doesn’t want us to be anxious about anything either. He says, “Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me” (John 14:1, NKJV).…

A POPULAR TELEVISION SHOW’S ENDING segment often featured broadcaster Andy Rooney asking, “Did you ever wonder…?” Did you ever wonder why Jesus frequently quoted Psalms? He had such a good command of God’s Word that He could pull out an appropriate scripture verse for any situation. After forty days in the wilderness, Jesus then exchanged volleys of sacred texts with Satan, who misused, misapplied, and lied about what Jesus knew like the back of His soon-to-be-scarred hands (Matthew 4:1-11). Judging from His frequent quotes from the writings of David and the other psalmists, the Book of Psalms provided comfort and wisdom for Jesus on His earth journey. He applied Psalms to His followers and the crowds listening as if they were a balm and worship with which He was well…

APRIL Spring adds new life and beauty to all that is. THE CURVY COUNTY ROAD NARROWED as the fields of bluebonnets encroached on the blacktop, reducing it to one lane. If a car approached from the opposite direction, it couldn’t possibly pass without hitting mine. Not that I’d seen another vehicle on this desolate road pitted with neglected potholes. How in the world did I end up here? Did I take a wrong turn? With no cell service, I couldn’t ask Siri to navigate. I considered turning back, but there was no place to turn around safely. I had no other choice but to slow down, keep driving, and enjoy the view. Beyond acres of purple wildflowers stood grand hills covered in green foliage, topped by a bright blue sky.…

I FOLDED THE PAPER THIS way and that as I taught the Easter lesson. “The thief on one side of Jesus yelled at Him. The thief on the other side believed in Jesus and asked for His help.” The kids stared while I folded the paper two more times. “Jesus showed kindness to the man who asked and said he would go to heaven that very day!” I slowly tore the folded paper from bottom to top. With unusual focus, the kids watched me unfold the pieces to reveal a paper cross. An ordinary paper and a simple Bible story introduced the kids to the grace of Jesus. The surprise on their faces duplicated my own the first time I saw the paper cross. Try it yourself with a sheet…

I WALKED ALONG A PAVED nature trail under towering trees. Suddenly, the ground seemed to rush upward, and I fell. I’d recently had some moments of weird dizziness, but that fall from an unexpected flash of vertigo sent me to vestibular training for balance. I learned a few techniques to use when I have a sense of being unbalanced. The two most helpful are to plant the soles of my feet firmly down as I walk and to keep my eyes on a focal point straight ahead. Those tips work in a spiritual sense too. Jesus calls me to walk on a narrow path, keeping my feet planted firmly and my eyes fixed on Him. John 1:14 describes Jesus as being full of grace and truth. He spoke hard truths…

LAST NIGHT, I MADE A mistake while knitting a silk and wool hat in a complicated pattern. The directions had a multicolor symbol chart with arrows to show the direction of each row, which I desperately needed. When I stopped for the night, I counted my stitches and came up with 23 instead of 24. Somewhere along the way, I’d dropped a stitch. I couldn’t find the error and threw my work down in frustration. My scheduled Bible reading resonated with my knitting situation. Jesus gave his Jewish listeners unexpected advice when He told them to go back and make things right with anyone they’d offended before presenting their offering at the temple. Some of these people would have been holding a lamb or leading livestock. Their baked offerings would…

My YOUNGEST DAUGHTER ASKED HER dad and me to consider living with her family to lend a helping hand when she developed complications with her second pregnancy. We were happy to say yes, especially because this gave us an opportunity to be more involved with our two-year-old granddaughter’s care for three months. Building a stronger relationship with little Lexi brought immeasurable joy. During our stay, we saw her motor skills develop and independence grow. She learned to express her desires and dislikes. She began talking in eight-word sentences. At the same time, she remained dependent for pretty much everything. She needed us to bathe and dress her, provide her meals and snacks, take her outdoors, oversee her safety, and tuck her in bed. We read stories to her, kissed her…

MANY YEARS AGO, A GAME show treated women as “Queen for a Day.” The winner was lauded with a royal robe, a bouquet of roses, and many prizes. While the fantasy of sitting on a throne with treasures at my feet might be fun, Jesus challenges me to chase a very different path. He is the King of Kings. Yet He set aside His throne and crown to become fully human, to ride into Jerusalem on a lowly donkey, to suffer and die for my sake. The righteous and victorious Son of God could have ridden on a fiery horse surrounded by thousands of glowing angels. Yet He chose humility—from His birth in tiny Bethlehem to His ministry among the poor and outcast to His entry into Jerusalem. I confess…

MORNING SUNSHINE STREAMED THROUGH THE entry window. I squinted and yawned and headed for the kitchen and the coffee maker. Some people wake up perky. Not me. Even though I wasn’t all in for the day yet, those sunbeams shined with hope. It was the first morning in several when my cold symptoms weren’t dragging me down. Carrying a steaming mug to the front porch, I sank onto an Adirondack chair and drank in the warmth of the sun and the brew. Thank You, Jesus. I’m making it a priority to reacquaint myself with simple pleasures—namely, the pursuit of joy. Every moment has potential for joy, and I’m determined to find all the happiness I can. Jesus didn’t let happy times pass Him by either. In fact, it’s easy to…

IN SOME RESPECTS, I’VE LIVED like an atheist for much of my Christian life. Wait! Before you wonder if I’m a spiritual impostor, hear me out. You see, despite my love for Jesus, I acted as though everything that happened—or didn’t happen in my life—depended on me. What’s worse, despite all my Bible reading, prayer, and praises, I thought I could somehow manipulate the events in my life by my own effort. That’s not grace. That’s not faith. That’s the world’s way. My way. The Bible tells me plainly that apart from Jesus, I can do nothing (John 15:5). Yet I had this idea that I had to make all the best decisions to ensure the right outcomes, as though I could even determine what the right outcome was in…

FOR WEEKS, MY HOUSE RATTLED as thunderous heavy equipment dug up our street. The hundred-year-old water main had become so badly perforated with leaks that the ancient pipe was beyond repair. We were finally getting a much-needed new water main. My little town has no shortage of water. A prominent river flows through it, while a network of creeks, natural springs, and underground streams weave their way throughout town. In opposition to this abundance of fresh water, I’m contemplating how to dramatically reduce and limit our usage. Not only is conserving water a responsible practice, but also my husband and I are planning on doing some off-grid camping—aka boondocking—where we won’t be connected to a municipal water supply. Contemplating water usage, my thoughts naturally turn toward Jesus and the contrast…

MY HUSBAND AND I ENJOY avocados. But catching the opportune chance to enjoy them is an ongoing challenge. When we buy them, they’re hard and unripe. Each morning, we expectantly and gently squeeze every one to see which, if any, are ready to eat. But no matter how diligent I am, sometimes I miss that optimum moment, and an avocado becomes too soft. When I cut it open, the fruit is smudged with bitter gray. Their brief window of perfection makes me think of my life. I have limited days to serve Jesus here on earth, but distractions cause me to forget that truth. I get busy with work, worries, or projects that consume my thoughts, time, and energy. When I’m too preoccupied, I can miss ripe opportunities to be…

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