WHAT THE BIRDS TAUGHT ME ABOUT LIFE

In the midst of the Christmas season. I’ve been running around trying to get everything done, checking off my to-do list. Whew! I’m tired.  

This morning, I sat down at Starbucks, and as I sipped my cappuccino, I gazed at the steeple on the church across the street. Perched on the steeple, two little birds rested, contented, enjoying the day the Lord has given them. Resting. Not in a hurry. Not striving. Just enjoying.

What a life. Sweet. Pleasant. Didn’t the Lord say something about them?

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.

If I’m not very careful, I find myself even striving in prayer. I try to make sure God is well aware of everything that needs attention, reminding him of this and that, as if He doesn’t know, and it’s up to me to take care of the myriad of details in running the world.

Just for today, I want to be like a bird. Quiet. Peaceful.

Casting Crowns new song, Just Be Held, speaks to me.  

Hold it all together
Everybody needs you strong
But life hits you out of nowhere
And barely leaves you holding on

And when you're tired of fighting
Chained by your control
There's freedom in surrender

Lay it down and let it go

 

You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held
Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place
I'm on the throne, stop holding on and just be held

Just be held.

What words of wisdom! Just for today, I want to enjoy this day the Lord has made. The Lord

takes pleasure in his people. Let’s bask in his love. He’s taking care of everything.

A VETERAN'S DAY I WILL NOT FORGET

When my daughter called to say my grandson’s school was putting on a Veteran’s Day program and my WWII Veteran father was to be an honored guest, I looked forward to a sweet little presentation and afterwards having lunch with my family.

I was not expecting the New Summit School in Jackson, Mississippi to have been working for months to pull off an extravaganza. It seemed all of the approximately two hundred and fifty students were involved.

When we entered the gymnasium, an entire wall held framed pictures of veterans who were family members of the students. Centerpieces of elegant red roses graced every table. The posting and retiring of the colors was done with military precision.

 Adorable kindergarteners tapped to the tune of “The Grand Ole Flag”.  School choirs sang. Poems  

were read. 

The culinary students (yes, they have a culinary class) made French pastries to rival any bakery in Paris.

The highlight of the day was to honor two WWII veterans, Hugh Grant Caradine, age 96, and Nailor Jerome Adams, age 93, my father. Their great-grandsons presented them with ‘Honorary Veteran’ sashes. Videos were made of them, telling their stories of the war.

When Pap was introduced, he stood in his WWII uniform and said, “I just didn’t know there was so many of you who still remember what we did.”

The entire crowd rose to their feet with a thunderous ovation. Pap, with tears streaming down his face, looked around and then saluted us. Forget trying to save the makeup.

I’ve thought a lot about the significance of that day. The obvious was, of course, honoring all vets. A week after the ceremony, my father still talks about that morning with shining eyes.

But, the impact goes so much further. The Scriptures exhorts us to “Teach the children.” New Summit is doing that. Among other values, the students learned:

·         Patriotism and pride in our flag. I’ll dare say, there won’t be any flag-burners in that bunch.

·         Respect for our veterans and their service. The kids were shown what our freedom cost others.

·         Respect for the elderly. Those two old vets are now frail and walk with assistance, no longer the strong, young warriors they once were. The students treated them with the utmost dignity and respect. After the ceremony, dozens of high school students stood in line to shake their hands and thank them for their service.

·         They were being taught to give back. Each student worked on the program. The first graders colored pictures of the flag, then the older kids laminated them to make placemats for the tables. The middle and high schoolers served the tables. And it goes on and on.

As I drove back to New Orleans, my heart was full. New Summit is teaching, by example, the core values that make a person and a nation strong.

If I still had school age kids, I would hope and pray for a school of the quality of New Summit, now that I know one exists.

MADE IN THE GHETTO

   Martin Luther King wasn’t the only one with a dream.

Russell Gore sat across from me in the coffee shop on the corner of Decatur and Barracks, in the

French Quarter.

He frowned and looked past me as if talking to himself. “I grew up in the projects. They’re like Spanish fly traps. You get stuck in ‘em and can’t get out. You just sit around waiting on the next check. The blight passes from one generation to the next.

“My mama would go to the grocery store on the corner and buy what she needed to feed us on credit until her food stamps came in.” His voice thickened. “It hurt me to see her struggle like that, but I couldn’t do nothing to help her.

"All of us don’t want that. We want to get out if given a chance.

"I made up my mind back then I wouldn’t go down that road."

And Russell didn’t.

He attended and graduated from Delgado Community College in New Orleans with a Fine Arts degree. Today he creates original jewelry and sells it in the French Market. He had used the same product for twenty years when he woke up one day to find it had been discontinued. He was confronted with his greatest fear, that he wouldn’t be able to feed himself.

But, according to Russell, when God closes a door, he opens another one.

He grinned. “You’ve heard ‘em say, birds of a feather flock together. Well, I think, sometimes you’ve got to leave the flock and soar with the eagles. When I couldn’t get the material I needed to make a living, I found me an eagle. A woman showed me an even better product.

Russell creates a lovely line of jewelry of unique jewelry, made by combining and firing various colored clay.

But, his jewelry is only a means to an end. His life goal is to show other people, his people, he calls them, a way up and out of poverty. One day he wants to teach others how to make jewelry.

He has principles he lives and is constantly teaching others. Some are:

·         We all make mistakes. Quit blaming others for your failure. Don’t point the finger. Own up to your own mistakes.

·         You can find a job. Don’t give up. Keep trying.

·         Work. Find something to do. Get the best job you can today and work hard. Better yourself.

·         Never forget where you came from. Once you get out, reach back and pull someone else out with you.

·         You can fall, but you have to get back up.

·         Never forget where you came from.

·         Be around positive people. Find yourself an eagle and soar.

 

Russell's jewelry line is called "Made in the Ghetto". He said he never wants to forget where he came from.

He's a delightful man. You can meet him everyday at the French Market in New Olreans, Booth 107.

Mention you saw this blog and he’ll reward you with a 25% discount off any one item.

His jewelry is not painted. It's made by combining various colors of clay, that when fired, create this exquisite jewelry.

I love it! I've never seen anything quite like it. I think you will, too.

AN AMAZING IMAGE OF GOD

Do you remember George Strait’s song, ‘I Saw God Today’?

Well, on a warm Sunday last month,
I saw an amazing image of God.

Mical and I settled comfortably into our chairs at our church in New Orleans, and the young director and his wife, Tim and Tasha Levert walked to the stage to give the morning talk. (We used to call it ‘the sermon’.J)

Tasha spoke first. “We have three beautiful daughters, Elle, Zoe and Ashton.” A picture flashed on the screen behind them of two adorable little blue-eyed, blondes, and Tasha said, “These two are our youngest. Ashton, the little one, was five at the time, and Zoe was seven. Tim coached their soccer team.

"Ashton loved soccer. She loved wearing her uniform. If I didn’t watch her, she would drag it out of the laundry and wear it three days in a row. She loved her cleats and loved her bows. She even wanted to wear her cleats with her little dresses. She loved the warm-ups and the practices. She would skip on to the field bubbling with excitement.”

Until the whistle blew, and the game began.

Two new picture flashed on the screen, and Tasha continued. “Ashton’s beaming face would streak

with panic, and she would race as fast as her little legs could carry her to her daddy. After a few times, he learned to expect her reaction, and would simply kneel and open his arms as she hurled herself into them.

“For the rest of the game, he would continue to coach the other girls with Ashton glued to his chest.

He cradled her next to his heart for as long as it took to make her feel safe and protected.”

Some of us have this picture of God as the coach yelling from the sidelines, “SUCK IT UP! WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? YOU’RE PLAYING LIKE A GIRL!

Not Tim and not our heavenly Father.

As I stared at the picture of Ashton clinging to her daddy, honestly, I don’t remember anything else that Tasha or Tim said. I think it was something about facing your fears. But, the volume on the screen was just too loud.

Why did Ashton react that way? Who knows? She was just his little girl who needed him. His job was to protect her tender heart, and he did. He knew she would eventually grow out of her fears.

Jesus said, “In this world, you’re going to have trouble.”

 

All of us need extra attention at one time or another, given the vagaries of life. We have a compassionate Father whose arms we can race into, and he will hold us until we are strong enough to stand again.

On the drive home, Mical asked, “What did you get from the talk?”

Tears streamed down my face. I said, “I’m the child clinging to the Father’s shoulder.”

He stared ahead as he drove and quietly said, “Me, too.”

We are all plagued with fears and insecurities, real or imagined.

 

At least, everyone I know. Little Ashton was never in any actual danger, but she obviously thought she was. I’ve started a new career at sixty. Mical recently restarted an old career. It’s scary.

Ashton knew what to do. She raced to Daddy.

When the noise and chaos of life assaults us, let’s take her example and run to the Father.

You Don't LOOK Sick!

In the early 2000’s, I contracted Lyme disease from a tick bite. Because I am from an area that is not endemic to the disease, it was misdiagnosed for several years. By that time, it had developed into the chronic form, called late-stage Lyme.

Lyme is known as the great deceiver because it mimics other diseases, such as fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis. It caused excruciating pain all over my body. If I unconsciously started to turn over during the night, pain would rip through my body. If someone touched my arm, I would have to fight not to recoil because of the discomfort.

Thankfully, after the correct diagnosis and several long, long treatments of IV antibiotics, the Lyme went into remission.

The interesting thing was, I didn’t LOOK sick.

There were no lesions, scars, or even redness.

During those years, some well-meaning friends unknowingly inflicted emotional pain on top of the physical hell I experienced.

Below are some thoughts for supporting a friend who finds themselves in a similar position.

What NOT to say to someone with chronic pain.

·         You don’t look sick.

Don’t assume if a person looks fine they are not desperately ill. I perfected a special talent, honed from years of practice. I could chat with you, and you’d never know I was carefully schooling my features to hide the stabbing pain. I would tell myself, ‘A little while longer and I can lie down.’

·         You should get out more. It’ll make you feel better.

It may be true, but I am the only one who can make that call.

·         If you had enough faith, God would heal you.

It still amazes me, but I’ve had people say that. Maybe it’s true, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

·         You can handle this.

I used to believe I could handle anything I had to. Not anymore. The pain was so unrelentingly vicious, I asked my husband to pray I would die. (He refused, thank God). But, there are some things worse than death.

What TO say to someone in chronic pain.

·         I’m so sorry you don’t feel good.

·         I’m praying for you.

·         How are you today?

·         Can I do anything for you?

·         I’m going to the grocery store. Can I pick up something for you?

·         I make too much soup yesterday. Thought you might like some.

·         Wondered if the kids could come over and play at my house for a while. I could pick them up.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on ways to help someone who is suffering with this type of unseen disease.

Who am I . . . Really?

This morning I met a girlfriend at the coffee shop. The room seemed to fill with sunshine when she stepped in the doorway. Two men turned and watched her walk to my table. I smiled to myself and
felt pretty by association.

As we talked about life and kids and work, her laughter rang around us like a lilting melody. I wondered how she was consistently so full of life and cheerful. As if she heard the unspoken question, she began to talk about the transforming work of Christ in her life.

Her eyes danced. “There is nothing I can do to make him love me more. He loves me. He just does. I’m his princess. I don’t have to try to be. I just am.”

Sounds like a perfectly put-together life. Right?

She sipped her cappuccino, then continued. “I choose to walk in that truth rather than get bogged down in all the other.”

The other, I wondered. What weights was this radiant person deliberately throwing off? Fortunately, she told me.

Due to, according to her, some mistakes in her youth and victimization by others, she had more than one divorce behind her and children who were confused as to who they were. She said, “As a child, I never dreamed that would happen. I struggle with shame and guilt.”

I looked into those clear, dark eyes. Shame and guilt did not fit in the picture.

 Her voice softened. “The Lord gave his life to provide an abundant, rich, and overflowing one for me. Every day, I can realize I am the Lord’s precious one or be crushed under the lies the devil would heap on me. I choose to believe the truth.”

Ahh. Her secret. She knows who she is. A precious one.

As I reflected on her words, I glanced at a picture of my new granddaughter. She came much later than the rest of the kids, and we are all silly over her. Could any of us love her more?  That doesn’t bear considering.

I pray we can see ourselves through the Lord’s eyes. His treasured ones. Just like we are this minute.

Jason Gray must have been pondering this when he wrote his insightful lyrics.

Tell me, once again

Who I am to you, who I am to you

Tell me, lest I forget

Who I am to you, that I belong to you

If I’m your beloved, can you help me believe it?

The Secret of Contentment

 But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. (1 Timothy 6:6)

My husband and I are blessed to still have both of our fathers. Mical’s dad will be one hundred this year and mine is fast approaching that age.

We recently had the pleasure of my father spending a week with us. Last night, as Mical and I sat in the courtyard, we reflected on their lives. 

They both have sharp, quick minds. They love the Lord and if you spend ten minutes with them, they will tell you so. We were reminded of how few their needs are now. With a good meal and clean clothes, they’re happy as clams.

That wasn’t the case when they were younger. Raising their families, they worried and fretted over money and how to keep us all fed. Somehow, everything worked out, and none of us starved. (To the contrary, most of us are overweight.)

I pondered the advice of an older man to his son. Paul said to Timothy,
Godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. If we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.

In the frustrations and busyness of life, we can lose sight of the important. As dusk fell, and the scorching August heat abated, Mical and I recommitted ourselves to the grace of contentment. An amazing thing happened next. The peace of God descended and enfolded us. Whispering across the centuries, I heard Paul's voice again.

 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Early Christian Baptisms--in the Nude?

 

 

I love reading and writing historical fiction. Not only do I get absorbed in a fascinating story, I learn the culture of the day. My novel is set in the first century. My research of the life of the first century church has spanned over five years.

One of the interesting subjects I came across was nude baptisms. I was first shocked and then intrigued to learn more. Was it true? Was it widespread or just done in random areas? I started with the early church fathers.

Cyril of Jerusalem, a distinguished theologian of the fourth century, addressed the persons to be baptized. “As soon as ye came into the inner part of the baptistery, ye put off your clothes, which is an emblem of putting off the old man with his deeds, and being thus divested, ye stood naked, imitating Christ, that was naked upon the cross, who by his nakedness spoiled principalities and powers, publicly triumphing over them in the cross. Oh wonderful thing! Ye were naked imitating the first Adam that was naked in paradise, and was not ashamed.”

The archbishop of Constantinople, St. Chrysostom, an important early church leader and contemporary of Cyril of Jerusalem, in part of a longer passage, stated, “In baptism, a man is naked that he might be freed from sin.”

St. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, of the same era wrote, “Men came as naked to the font (of baptism), as they came into the world.”

St. Amphilochius, the Bishop of Iconium in the fourth century, spoke of his baptism. “He arose with fear and put off his clothes, and with them the old man.”

At this point in my research, my face turned red and I felt the need to defend a position of propriety. I quoted Paul from I Timothy. ‘Women are to adorn themselves with proper clothing, modestly and discreetly.’ I sighed, poured another cup of coffee and decided I must not impose my twenty-first century filter, so I continued.

I posed the next question. Surely men and women were not baptized together? Thankfully, I found the answer to be no. According to the Apostolic Tradition, small children were baptized first, then men and finally the women.

The Didascalia, a Christian treatise written about 220 AD, states a woman is to have her head anointed by a male minister. Then a female deacon assists the woman and receives her as she comes out of the water, traditionally, wrapping her in a white robe. There is evidence that many baptisteries had curtains or panels for privacy. .

Another thing that leads me to believe baptism was likely done in the nude were the depictions of nude baptism in a great many forms of art in the early centuries, including those in the catacombs. The image on the right is a catacomb painting depicting the baptism of Jesus. 

This blog is to share my journey. I decided not to portray nude baptism in my book. The great truth of baptism is that we are identified with our Lord in his death and resurrection. In an effort to keep the focus on the Him, I chose to bypass the controversy over whether baptism was done nude or clothed.

I’d love to hear from you if you have anything to add or discuss.

 

The Day I Chose to be Happy

Sometimes life can be tough, can't it? I was recently waylaid by another person’s unwarranted and cruel actions.

I slogged through weeks of my life trying to get past the feelings of hurt and anger. I believed the verse, ‘All things work together for good to them that love the Lord’. Yet, I couldn’t pull myself out of the abyss I had sank into.

Ever been there?

The truth is, that’s life. The only way to avoid it is to live alone on a desert island. And then we would miss this amazing adventure we call life.

I’m a Biblical fiction writer. My purpose is to encourage others to walk in God’s ways.

One would think I would gain insight and courage from being immersed in the Bible. But no. On this day, I shut my computer down and walked to a restaurant for lunch. Staring out over the French Quarter, I felt like I was being crushed under the weight of despair.

Then, I had a God moment. As I watched people walking by and listened to a musician playing on the corner, something welled up within me.

I thought, “I’m not wasting one more minute of my life being upset about this. God has given me this beautiful day, health, a career I love. All I have is this hour, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

That awakening was as refreshing as a spring shower. I wish I could say that was the end of it. It wasn’t, but it was the beginning of living again. I learned some points that will help the next time life happens.

So what do we do when we find ourselves in a place of despair? Through my mess, I gained some insights to help me crawl back out. And I hope, for the future, to not tumble so low in the first place.

Ask friends to pray for you.

I shared what happened and asked trusted friends to pray for me.

Live in the moment

The truth is, all any of us have is this moment in time. Not an hour from now, certainly not  tomorrow.

Be thankful.

I have the most wonderful husband God ever made. My children are delights to me.

Remember how God has helped you in the past.

Look back on other difficult times in your life and remember that the problem passed.

Happiness is a choice. I can choose to be happy. Or not.

I choose life. And in a way, it gives praise to my creator because I am appreciating this life He’s given me.

I'd love to know what's helped you through your tough times.