Judy’s written response: “Oh my goodness!  Whatever type of 12-step program you initiate for all of those issues—I’m in!  EVERY ONE OF THEM—been there!  That is, if I can make the time. Made me laugh!”

My brother’s phoned response: “I read your blog. Oh, my! What were you thinking? It was so …I don’t know…just so depressing! I don’t even know what to think about it. Are you OK?”

So I’ve thought these over and have decided it’s a male/female issue. Women are accustomed to admitting their every weakness and making light of them; men are not. Men are appalled at such admissions of guilt or failings. This is no castigation of our male counterparts; it’s in their DNA. Not their fault.

My mother often said, “We don’t need to tell anyone about this,” when no-harm-done errors were made. She had a good point. Keeping our shortcomings to ourselves can be to our benefit. She obviously got this point across to my brother.

But sometimes sharing our failures is even better. Telling our stories can bring laughter and shared understanding that won’t occur when we keep all our mistakes to ourselves.

I just had lunch with a dear friend and contemporary. We spent most of our time sharing stories of lost and found, spilled and cleaned up, forgotten and retrieved. We laughed so much we were weak and yet exhilarated. Sometimes we get together to weep; today it was to laugh—mainly at ourselves.

Doctors as well as Solomon seem to agree that laughter is good medicine. So next time I write such a blog post I must make it clearer that it’s supposed to be a bit humorous as well as true. And guys—lighten up. Life’s a lot more fun when we can laugh with others and at ourselves.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine…”  Proverbs 17:22a

Or in a folksier version, there’s Randy Travis’s: “I hear tell the road to hell is paved with good intentions….”

Food. Speaking kindly. Using time wisely. Caring for others. Using time wisely. Studying the Bible. Using time wisely. Praying. I never seem to have a good balance and rarely follow through on good ideas the Spirit sends to my mind. 

So I really shouldn’t eat this snack. I can go without. I’m not really hungry. Or I could get celery or some other healthy, low-calorie snack. Doesn’t happen. Finish off the bag of chips. 

Different kind of food scenario: Brandon’s recovering from surgery, so I should take food. Doesn’t happen. 

Fran will start chemo soon. She can eat this week before chemo, so I should take food. Doesn’t happen. Now she’s nauseated and doesn’t even want food—mine or anyone else’s. 

Bev’s recovering from surgery, so I’ll take food. Yes, that will happen, but only because I was approached by a proactive friend and asked to pick a date. 

I’m going to be so sweet to Steve today. But then I almost slam the taxi door on his head and when he protests, I yell, “Well, how was I to know you were going to stick your head back in there? I was the last one out!” After 46 years of marriage, have I not figured out that he always has to examine the taxi seat one more time to be sure we got everything? 

I’m going to write all day—25 minutes, then a 5-minute break. But then there’s my exercise class and my glycopeel appointment. And sure, honey, I’d love to pick up my adorable grandson while you get your hair cut. 

I’m really going to study ahead for the Wednesday Bible study I lead. Doesn’t happen. Last minute cramming again. 

Lord, I desperately want to spend time with you today. But then there are all the other things that fill my day, and I need to get started early to get it all done. I’ll pray in the car. Doesn’t happen for long. Other thoughts bombard me, interrupting my prayers. So I pray for my loved ones and especially the grandchildren, their parents, the children’s future spouses and their parents, our President, his advisors, the Congress, the upcoming election. That’s as far as I get. What about those marriages I need to pray for? And the single parents? And those struggling with gender issues, or relationship issues, or financial challenges? Maybe I’ll get to them tomorrow, if I can get up early enough. 

I’ll get to bed earlier tonight so I can get up earlier tomorrow. Right. And then there’s the “Downton Abbey” I haven’t seen, and Scrabble and Words with Friends to respond to. Early to bed never happens for me. 

So I’d better be right on top of that forgiving others thing, because I have tons to be forgiven of every day.

“But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”  Matthew 6:15

Grudgingly, I agreed. Unusual for me, I’d actually planned my dinner menu and was looking forward to the chicken and homemade noodles. Of course they could wait a day with no problem, for I knew that once we were there, we’d eat nearby. 

And joy! I had a $25 coupon I’d bought for $2 to The Black Sheep, across the street from Maggie’s. Things were looking up.

At the auction, we were uninspired by the merchandise. Never once did I wish I’d gotten a number. Then I noticed that a side room was labeled “Nell’s Kitchen.” Hmmm. I had the vague idea that a Nell who sometimes attended our church worked for Maggie, so I went to Nell’s Kitchen. I hadn’t seen her at church in months, but she’d sent us a Christmas card saying “We’ll be back.” Sure enough, there she was, and she seemed delighted to see me.

“I was at church yesterday,” she said quickly, “but I helped in the nursery. I took my granddaughter down there and it worked out fine. Our daughter was with us, too.” Nell couldn’t get it all out fast enough. “She’s the one that had the son that died four years ago and she’s been going through a bad time recently. She’s going to a therapist who told her she needed to be going to church.” She paused for a breath.

“That’s a great idea!” I said. “Not all therapists recommend that.” As well as I could recall, Nell and Jerry had never brought their daughter with them before this. They had begun by coming to the Bread of Life Café on Wednesday nights and then on Sunday mornings, too. Jerry had told me that Nell had a bad church experience as a child and he’d had to talk her into visiting our church.

“Oh, we’ll be back next week!” Nell assured me, and asked about Steve. I told her he’d stop in before we left. When he did, he got the same joyful greeting that I’d received. We chatted with Nell about her duties for Maggie, her food preparation, and how we were sorry we hadn’t spoken to her on Sunday. She and Jerry always scoot out pretty quickly.

Delighted with talking to Nell, we left the auction to go to the restaurant across the street. Heading up to the crosswalk, I almost bumped into a slender blonde who had just exited the adjacent door.

“Well, hi!” she said. “I live upstairs here. Say, I want you to know—I want to come back to your church!”

“Marcia!” we greeted her and I gave her a hug. “It’s great to see you. It’s been a while. How are you?”

At that moment her boyfriend Chris came out and we shook hands with him, saying that we missed him, too. Chris and Marcia had visited church a couple of Sunday mornings and Marcia comes occasionally to our free Wednesday meals, the Bread of Life Café..

“I’ll tell you—I just love it that your church has AA!*” Marcia said. “I don’t know what I’d do without those meetings to go to.”

“Well, you’re looking really good,” I honestly answered. She looked much healthier than she had a few weeks ago.

“And GA!** I’m so glad you introduced me to those people! I go all the time and Chris goes, too. And on 11/11, a couple that had met there got married and we all went to Red Lobster together. That was such fun!” She rattled on for a while, and then said they had to go. She and Chris promised to see us at church soon.

She kept saying, “I really want to come to your church again!” as though she wasn’t allowed. We assured her she’d be welcome.

I know a bit about Marcia. She has a daughter around 8 that she lost custody of. Perhaps AA and GA will help her be better equipped to raise a daughter. Chris seems like a really nice guy, so perhaps she’s making better companion choices now, too. Time will tell.

As they left, Steve and I grinned at each other. “Who’d imagine that this turned out to be a ministering trip?” Steve said, and I agreed.

“Maybe we should walk the streets of Cheviot some time and see who we run into,” I suggested, and we may do that soon.

I’m convinced that these encounters were not random, but God-directed. He had prompted Steve to “suddenly” have the idea that this was a good afternoon to go to the auction. And I’m so glad I didn’t dig in my heels to have my chicken and noodles that night.

We never know who God wants us to talk to until he thrusts them right in front of us. We just have to keep our eyes open to see them there—and give them hugs.
                                                                              *** 

*Alcoholics Anonymous meets in our church building Monday through Friday at noon.
**Gamblers Anonymous meets there at 7 pm on Wednesdays and Fridays.

Her primary word is “sorry.” She’s been so battered, so abused, so accused, that it is always her first response. She has learned the power of apology, but she over-uses it. She says “sorry” for closing the door loudly, for dozing off while watching tv, for making a comment during a tv show, for not eating enough, for eating too much. She apologizes for everything she does. I plead with her to stop saying “sorry” so much, and immediately she says “sorry.”

I met her because she was my husband’s student at the university. He often mentioned her and the obstacles she faced, especially with health issues, which remain. It is hard to keep a job when you have attacks of pancreatitis, throw up, pass out, and are sent via EMTs to the hospital over and over. But with no insurance, how can she afford the meds she needs?

I pray for her soul. I talk to her about God and his love for her. Finally, once, she said, “I try to talk to him but I don’t know how. I just feel worse after that.” She can’t use the word “pray,” but that’s what she’s trying, and I get a small bit of encouragement from that. I tell her that feeling worse is part of the answer to her prayer, because God is reminding her not to make the poor choices she has been making.

I can’t force her to make better choices, but I can remind her that she is in charge of her life and God wants to help her with it. I keep praying for her, and I’m confident God is working in her life.

Yesterday in our Life Group we read Isaiah 40:31, and I saw that I am waiting on the Lord with her. It’s just hard when I want him to work more quickly. But maybe I’m impatient for selfish reasons–to avoid the time I give to her and her dysfunction. Guess I’d better pray for myself on that!

We hope we draw people with more than delicious food. We also offer friendship, conversation, and a devotional time of singing, prayer, and spiritual thoughts. The prayer requests deal with needs for jobs, hopes that someone will return safely, health issues, and those who are grieving.

Before the adult part of the devotional, Steve (my husband and the pulpit minister there at the Central Church) calls all the children together and they sing a few songs and learn Bible verses and Bible facts. This time and the prayer request time are my favorite parts of the evening.

Recently, a child we didn’t know approached Steve as we were cleaning up afterward and offered him a page from a notebook. You can see it here. She said, “Would you give this to God?”

Oh, for the heart of a child! A heart that believes that righteous adults can pass messages on to God for us. A heart that can offer the simple message “I love God and Jesus” and know the message will be received. A heart that trusts completely, without hesitation. A heart that is brave to approach a relative stranger and give him a message for God.

This week I hope I can be more like Hanna. But rather than sending a message to God, I want to share God’s message with someone here below–someone who needs to know the love of God and salvation through Jesus Christ. I want my child-like spirit to touch others as Hanna touched us.

The age ten granddaughter responded with squeals of delight to getting a Nook ($79 on Black Friday). She jumped up and down and clutched it to her chest (not yet quite enough there to say she clutched it to her breast.) Her delight was loud and boisterous. 

On the other hand, age five grandson simply stared in astonishment at his little bike with the “Cars” theme ($69 at Toys R Us sale.) We could see him processing, but the only sounds that came out were a soft “Thank you for having training wheels!” Then he rose from the floor and approached it as though it were a mirage that could suddenly vaporize.  “May I ride it?” he asked. And he joyfully rode it around the living room. 

Which is better? Neither trumps the other, but his reaction did require close observation to see his appreciation. Later, he said to me, almost shyly, “Thanks for the bike. I always wanted a bike with training wheels.” 

But the most important showing of appreciation is the daily, year-round expression of thanks. Thanks for taking out the garbage, thanks for opening the door, thanks for picking up the kids. Thanks for the delicious meal (or for cooking the hot dogs), thanks for doing the laundry, thanks for getting the kids to bed. So that’s his or her job? That doesn’t mean appreciation isn’t welcomed. 

My opinion is that verbal appreciation is the most underrated aspect of a good relationship, whether marriage or work or parenting. In retrospect, I wonder if I showed enough appreciation to my children. I do recall a mantra I heard in a teacher seminar that I also incorporated into my parenting (and now grandparenting): “Catch them being good.” Noticing and showing appreciation to spouses, children, c0-workers, friends, and even strangers is a blessing to both the giver and the recipient. 

Jesus said that it is more blessed to give than to receive. This year let’s focus on expressing the appropriate appreciation for what we receive, no matter how small.

Published! No matter how many articles or stories I have published, as a writer, I still get excited when I get a copy of my words in print. Recently, I received my complimentary copy of Hurray God!  Hope Pray Believe. 

Hurray God! compiled by Jeanette Sharp (available through Amazon.com and Christianbook.com) is filled with true stories of God helping people through various trials.

As I turned to page 60 to again experience that thrill of seeing my printed words, I thought this must be how God feels every time a new translation of the Word rolls off the presses.  

So, I think He and I are both excited right now; a translation of the Old Testament in the Kuna language is set to be published in 2013. The Kuna tribe is one of the people groups I took to my heart during my years in Panama.  

You can read about a literacy project to the Kuna people that will prepare them to read God’s Word at: http://usa.ntm.org/field-news/to-grip-gods-word 

I think you’ll be excited, too, when you see what God is doing.

I admit I’ve also seen an occasional penny and even one nickel, but it’s the dimes that seem to proliferate. Do people not care about ten cents anymore, or are they so small and thin that they slip out without anyone’s noticing? 

I’ve heard other people say “not worth a red cent,” but that was not my family’s term. My mother often said something was not worth a dime, and it was sometimes something she’d bought that she was disappointed in, such as overripe fruit or cloth napkins that wadded up in the dryer and had to be ironed. Often she referred to a man who was not supporting his family well or a woman who did not take care of her children or her home as Mother thought was appropriate. But, given as she was to being careful not to gossip or speak ill of anyone, she’d often add something to soften the comment, such as, “but he (or she) has always had a hard time—not many breaks in life.”

So I’ve always known that “not worth a dime” meant totally worthless. But I’m still not sure why there are so many dimes lying around these days. Is there a message that I’m missing? 

I know a very few people that I think “aren’t worth a dime.” But they are to God, I’m certain of that. So maybe these are constant reminders that a dime may be worthless, but those I’d label not worth one are actually worth a lot. 

Have you seen any dimes lying around lately? When do you use the expression “not worth a dime?”

Mother loved feeding guests, and the less likely they were to pay her back, the better. She took seriously Christ’s admonition in Matthew 5:46-47: “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?” 

The Tennessee menus varied only slightly from year to year. My father wouldn’t eat turkey or chicken after childhood experiences seeing his mother wring their necks, plunge them into hot water, and pick the pinfeathers off them, so we always had country ham as well as turkey.

We feasted on ham for Daddy, mashed potatoes for Uncle Wilburn, sweet potato casserole for me, green pineapple salad for Claire, fried corn for Kelsey and Beth, yeast rolls for Steve, cornbread dressing for Gina, green beans for Larry, boiled custard for Mother, carrot cake for Josh, coconut cake for everyone, cranberry salad and asparagus casserole brought by Aunt Mae, and other dishes Mother found necessary to round out the offerings.

But more memorable to me than the food were the people who were present. Their names now lost to me, I can see the parade of acquaintances that joined us over the years—elderly couples whose children lived far away, single men or women whom Mother had discovered without holiday plans, college students—from Californians to Iranians. Sometimes the connection to Mother seemed so remote I feared she’d plucked them from the street, but they were all welcome and interesting. In addition to the random two to six guests each year were maiden cousins, aunts and uncles with no children or no children nearby, and of course whoever was living with Mother and Daddy at the time.

Thanksgiving in Indiana at sister Nancy and husband Flay’s followed a similar course, adding homemade noodles for Brian and Steve, as well as jam for the yeast rolls, and shrimp cocktail for all. Indiana Thanksgiving melded two or three families:  Flay’s sister and her married children and grandchildren, Flay and Nancy’s daughter-in-law’s parents and sometimes sister and her family, aunts who had no children, neighbors who had no plans. Nancy added the treat of filling plates to take to neighbors who couldn’t get out.

Two years ago, we celebrated at our house—taking the reins from the previous generation. All the specialties were there for those who came, adding our daughter-in-law Gina’s family to the mix.

This year was different. Since it wasn’t our year to go to Indiana, we were invited to join Gina’s family in Tennessee. For the first time in our lives, we ate two bountiful Thanksgiving dinners. 

First we went to Gina’s dad’s family dinner around noon. What a spread! Aunt Rachel had everything you could imagine, nicely organized on her large kitchen island. To top it all, she had made a coconut cake that looked and tasted just like my mother’s. Amazing. With all the children and grandchildren of Gina’s grandmother there, we counted 32 people. I was touched to know that neighbors with nowhere to go were also included. Rachel asked Steve to lead the Thanksgiving prayer. 

Around six, we were presented with another feast at the home of Gina’s mother Marcia. It included her extended family, her husband’s family, her son-in-law’s family, and thirteen of us that had been at the noon meal (including Gina’s father and stepmother, a gracious gesture from all.) Again the food was beautifully prepared and delicious, this time for about 24 of us. Marcia asked Josh to lead the Thanksgiving prayer. 

It was all lovely, but with so many people there was no opportunity to go around and have everyone say one thing they are thankful for. I missed that. So I’ll just start a list here that can go on ad infinitum:  I am thankful for my husband, my two children and the two they brought in as our children by marriage, our three grandchildren, my friends, the church where we’ve worshiped since 1975, Holy Spirit guidance, the beauty of nature, skills and talents we all have, the ability God has given people to design roads and skyscrapers and tree houses, good jobs, warm homes in winter and cool homes in summer, all the fruits of the Spirit, but especially for joy. 

What have I left out that you are particularly grateful for?

Time with old friends is so dear. We talked about our children and gtrandchildren, our churches, our retirement jobs, food preferences (they are now vegan), books, and mutual acquaintances. We prayed together, laughed together (a lot), ate together (a lot), and even shed some tears together.

I thank God for the gift of friendship. He saw that man should not live alone, and that is still true today–for men and women. I thank God that he gifted people with the ability to make and fly planes and the ability to make the internet available for us to stay in touch so easily.

We were as comfortable together as though we hadn’t lived in different states since 1987.

Do you have old friends like that?