Gratitude or Grabitude

I volunteered to write a little devotional for an online prayer group that I've been part of for over three years.  I would like to get back into my blogging, but it's been a little crazy, so I thought I would jump in again by sharing what I wrote for the devotional.

Thanksgiving is done.  The malls along “over the river and through the woods” were already crowded with cars and shoppers as we traveled across two state lines.  Facebook posts warned friends of places not to go as fights broke out in lines at some store.  How quickly we can shift from gratitude to grabitude. 

This Thanksgiving, the verse that stood out to me as I made my mental lists of things for which I was thankful was Habakkuk 3: 17-19. 

     Though the fig tree should not blossom,

nor fruit be on the vines, 

the produce of the olive fail 

and  fields yield no food, 

the flock be cut off the fold 

and there be no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord; 

I will take joy in the God of my salvation. 

God, the Lord, is my strength; 

he makes my feet like the deer's;  

he makes me tread on my high places. 

When we recognize whom we thank, we realize that we truly can give thanks in all things. 

As Henri J.M. Nouwen said,  “Gratitude ... goes beyond the "mine" and "thine" and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift. In the past I always thought of gratitude as a spontaneous response to the awareness of gifts received, but now I realize that gratitude can also be lived as a discipline. The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and have is given to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy.”

On this day of frenzied shopping and commercialism run rampant, let’s stop and extend our season of gratitude, celebrating all God’s gifts to us – the ones we easily see and the ones for which we must discipline ourselves to say thanks.     

Painting - Apartment Complex Style

               During my first days here in my Georgia apartment, the weather was pleasant, especially in the early morning, so I began to take my breakfast out on the small patio and enjoy the sounds of birds and the breeze in the trees.  Soon it began to get warmer earlier in the day, so I chose my times a little more carefully and with an eye to the thermometer and humidity.  Thus when the edict came down to clear our porches because the entire exterior of the complex was going to be painted, I cheered and happily removed everything, even the begonias, coleus, and potted herbs,  Challenging as it was to get the few pieces of furniture into the already stuffed storage area, I remained resolute,  filled it to overflowing, and hauled what didn’t fit inside, including the plants. 

                The patio remained empty except for pine needles used for mulch in the yard, creepy crawlers, and the occasional wandering cat.  It continued vacant for days and then weeks.  The indoor environment proved not conducive to healthy green plant life, with the coleus and parsley first fading, then drooping and finally dying.  In the meantime, the railings on the stairs and the doors received a couple of coats of beautiful shiny black paint, though there were a few little slips over onto the cream or beige or white.  Whenever I went on the patio, I made my contribution to the beautiful end by peeling more paint pieces off the wooden  railing.

                Apparently  they were painting somewhere on the , because there was a little construction area set up and fenced off for equipment and supplies.  One early morning, well at 8:30, the sounds of hammers outside my window indicated something was happening.  The crew was checking around windows and removing any trim or other wood that had any kind of rot and replacing it.  Hopeful , I watched daily for someone to be outside painting, but then a group came through a scraped.  By now the exterior of many buildings began to look a little forlorn with bare wood showing.  Building 19 just sat there.  Finally, one day all the bare spots were painted – no they were primed white, so now all was splotchy with off white and white creating a ragged polka dot pattern.

                Buildings across the street got painted; buildings in the front began to look crisp and neat with their fresh coats of subtly contrasting hues.  Work started on building 21, then 20, and then it all appeared to stop.  Last week I saw signs of work on building 18.  Yesterday, in addition to hopping birds and green grass, the lawn sprouted a roll of blue painter’s tape (They know the right stuff here.) and two five gallon buckets.  It’s not done, but finally the multiple processes, run though in order around the complex, will culminate with my porch rail and trim painted, and it will look charming once again – just in time for cool fall mornings on the porch.

Concert and Car

                The alarm shattered a deep sleep at 5:15 on Saturday morning.  Due at the Blakely’s by 6:45 for the drive to Marietta for the Celebrate Freedom day long concert, I gathered cool clothes, sunscreen, some reading material for a break, grabbed breakfast, and headed out just in time.  Excitement levels varied.  Katie was subdued after feeling a little under the weather Friday afternoon.  Kjersten eagerly looked forward to Amy Grant and the concert experience but also had her IPOD touch and a book to read.  Beth’s main desire was to see Amy, her all time favorite artist, and check out several others performing.  Bill came graciously to provide support and spend the day with us.  I was looking forward to hearing several groups and artists that I enjoy on the radio.

                We took my car because there was more room for lawn chairs, five people, and all the other paraphernalia that goes with attending an outdoor concert.  The early drive was pleasant with little traffic.  As we turned off the Interstate onto the state roads to , “smoke” and strange sounds came from the right rear wheel well.  When the smoke dissipated, we relaxed until the heat gauge indicated the car was overheating.  Limping into a station, Bill checked the radiator reservoir finding it totally empty.  Bill added some coolant, and we headed for the concert grounds.  By the time, we arrived the air conditioning quit, but we got into the parking place just in time. 

                Admittedly, I was a mess – worried about the car, anxious about ruining the day, and wondering how we would get home in this stupid car at midnight.  However, here we were at the North Georgia Fairgrounds with the strains of the first band floating across the parking lot.  With chairs, blankets and assorted time wasters gathered, we trudged across the grass lot into the park area filled with a tent city of advertisers, promotions, and activities for the kids.  Our ears led us toward the pavilion where, thankfully, space remained for us to open our chairs and throw our blankets down on the dirt floor.  Last week, the pavilion hosted a horse show.

                The concert continued with each set separated by words from the sponsors. By the end of the day, many in attendance could speak the words of the commercials more readily than those of the featured artists, many of whom decided to introduce songs from upcoming releases rather than sing the songs for which they are known.  To me, this was disappointing, not only because I was looking forward to singing along with words I knew, but also because the volume of the band and the seeming  for the singers to scream meant that discerning  lyrics proved challenging, especially to older ears.  I’d forgotten that about live concerts. 

                As the decibels rose so did the temperature inside and outside the pavilion.  Someone mentioned it was 95° on the grounds.  The rare breeze that would occasionally filter into the pavilion provided little respite.  Pity the poor people who arrived later and were left out in the sun.  At one point one of the announcers suggested only partially in jest, that  perhaps people shouldn’t raise their hands as the heat, dust, and perspiring bodies were likely to make it quite “aromatic”.  Katie, who doesn’t deal well with heat wilted more with each set and by the time Amy came on for her set, she was pretty much in melt down – literally.

                At five o’clock, an announcer told a group in the front sitting on folding chairs that they had to remove the chairs before the evening concert.  Later he came back and told everyone that all chairs had to be removed for safety reasons, and if they were not removed, he would personally come and get them down.  Grumbling and complaining about these particular directions, we took the chairs down and Bill hauled them all out to the car.  It gave him a chance to check the car once again, only to discover that the latest sealant and radiator coolant had seeped out the back of the car again.  Between the precarious state of the car and Katie, we decided to leave after Amy Grant’s performance, skipping Jeremy Camp and Switchfoot. 

            Honestly, we were also a little frustrated that no more mention  was made of chairs although many remained and others came in with chairs which they set up in the spaces the rule followers had opened.

Having no chairs proved a non-event once Amy came on , as we were on our feet for the whole performance.  The smiles on Beth and Kjersten’s faces as they sang along with every song Amy did made the day worth it. Katie ended up piggy back on Beth, and Bill carried water to the car.  I, too, knew the words and sang along.  The more mellow sound levels and balance between singers and musicians made it the most enjoyable performance of the day, though Jamie Grace and Jars of Clay also performed wonderfully as well.  

          Leaving early was OK;  by then my ears were filled with noises whether or not a band played, and I was pretty uptight about the drive home.  We stopped and replaced the fluids, but as we were driving along a freeway, the engine shut down; we just couldn’t make it to the next station.  Bill dumped in more water, but the engine would turn over but not start.  After 25 minutes with no appreciable reduction in engine temperature, I called AAA who promised we would get priority service.  Another 25 minutes went by with no call from AAA, but with the engine temperature dropping, the car started, and we headed up the next ramp to a gas station for a safer location and added more water.  Bill decided we could make it back to their place and plotted a Quik Trip to Quik Trip itinerary.  We cancelled AAA and headed out, successfully arriving back at their place after refilling the system at least five or six times.  Numerous cars blinked lights or tooted horns as the steam poured from the tire well following each addition.

             I drove one of their cars home for the evening, and today they took me to AVIS where I rented a car while I look for alternate transportation.  This really does appear to be the handwriting on the wall.  The problem is that some metal tubing to a rear heater has rusted out.  It turns out this is a “known” problem with 2000 and 2001 Mazda MPVs;  it seems these uninsulated tubes easily corroded in the salty conditions of northern states’ roads.  Unfortunately, the expiration of the fix was 2011.  Thus with exhaust system problems and this $600 repair, it is time to say a sad farewell to my work horse car.

           Problems laced the day, but it was fun to be with family and weather the difficulties together.  All of us enjoyed some part of the concert, Bill was a trooper and such a helper, and in the end we are all fine and richer for the experience.  We were protected on the roadside, and we all slept well in our own beds.  I do think I will be selective about concert venues in the future, but every experience is worth at least a good story.  

          Praise the Lord.

Where Oh Where has my Passport Gone

                Those of you who know me well are aware that I do occasionally lose things. I have been working on this since coming to Georgia with a modicum of success.  That was all blown apart this morning when the identification items required to complete the process of becoming a sub in Gwinnett county disappeared totally.  The items needed would be my Passport, birth certificate and Social Security Card.  My Driver’s License was in my purse.

                It’s a good thing I got up early because at least an hour was consumed in a futile search.  I waited until this morning because I have a specific file in which those items have a special place.  So, even before I made my bed, I decided to get them out and put them on top of the 1 inch stack of completed paper work.  (I cannot tell you how many times I had to write my address, my phone number, my social security number,  my height and weight -that was only once-,  and date everything.)

                Pulling the drawer open,  finding the right green folder and opening it took mere seconds.  But the pocket in the back of the folder was empty.  No!!!  Wait, maybe it was another green folder, but no passport in any of them.  Maybe I was in a hurry and put it in another folder.  Panicked searching.  It was a good thing I took my blood pressure medication this morning, because it was climbing.

                Then there’s that moment when you pray, Lord, calm me down and help me think, but , the mind continues to contemplate the consequences of not finding them documents.  What if they are lost completely?  What if my identity has been stolen because I left them somewhere.  Now I can’t complete the sub process.  Should I even go?  Oh, but wait, I had to show them to get my Georgia Driver’s license so maybe that would be enough.  No way, bureaucracy doesn’t work like that .

                The clock ticked on while I looked through all my files in two cabinets, rummaged through everything on the top of the desk, searched through every bag and even checked the kitchen counter.  I had them when I got my Driver’s License so I knew they had been here.  But, I needed to get in the shower, because the search wasn’t getting me anywhere. Figuring at least the interview could get done only  completing paperwork would be left seemed to be the right option.  While in the shower, I remembered that I had opened up my Credit Union account and thought maybe they were in the folder from Delta Community Credit Union.  Excitedly,  I found that folder and looked inside.  No passport, birth certificate or social security card.  I had been certain. I could remember taking them to Delta and having copies made.

                Finally, the brain clicked into gear – I had used those documents last week, taking them to have an I-9 employment eligibility form notarized for the online job.  Mental pictures reminded me that I took everything in a plastic envelope that had to be near the top of something.  Walking into the dining area I saw it sitting on one of the chairs.  With heart pounding, I opened the envelope and there they were. Now that spells R-E-L-I-E-F  better than Rolaids.  I copied each one twice as required and also copied my Driver’s license as required, gathered everything and headed out for the interview and document review.

                Everything was in order and all was well, until I had to put my Driver’s License number on a fingerprinting/background check form.  I opened my wallet and no Driver’s License.  But remember I had colored copies of it, so that could be done.

                I am now duly fingerprinted and awaiting the letter that says I can sub in the county, providing of course the background check comes back OK.

                I drove home very carefully and found my Driver’s License on my multippurpose printer.  The passport, birth certificate and social security card are already back in the right place.  I’ll tell you, I may never travel out of the country, but that passport has proved extremely valuable here in Georgia.

My Cup Overflows

     Isn’t it amazing how God works?  This weekend, if I am honest, I was feeling a little lonesome – a tad blue.  My family was gone and I was on Ginger care duty, nothing exciting was on the agenda, I finished a depressing book, and I was tired.  That’s a formula for feeling sorry for yourself.  I officially joined the church where I’ve been attending, but the pastor preached too long and so people had to hurry to their Sunday School classes and get out of the way for the class meeting in the sanctuary, so I really didn’t get to meet anyone new.  Talk about a pity party.

     But today, I was back at school, continuing my volunteer stint in Kindergarten.  The children were glad I was there and Amy (the teacher) was glad I was there to help get ready for Open House and Curriculum night.  Several  people expressed appreciation that some of us would keep coming after our two week commitment was over.  Even the principal stopped in with thanks.  Amy invited me to stay for the Open House and I was glad to do it, because I’ve invested in those children, too, and I wanted to see their parents and loved feeling like a part of the classroom.  Amy had to take her own kids home and feed them so I stuck around and washed some tables and organized a few more things and did a little planning for working with some of the children who are struggling with letters and sounds. The Kindergarten teachers who stayed graciously invited me to join them for pizza.

     I checked my cool new Smart phone for messages and found one from the Gwinnett County Substitute Coordinator saying that I should come for an orientation, class, document gathering and fingerprinting on Wednesday.

     Then the parents came, and they had heard all about Ms. Beaver.  It was humbling to be reminded of the impact we have on children.  Amy went through her presentation and came to the volunteer section.  Then she blew me away as she introduced me and brought out a bouquet of flowers and started to cry.  Well, needless to say, I cried, too.  It brought home again how important the job of teaching is and how hard it is to do it well.  No good teacher wants to do anything less than the best they can for every child, even if there are 28 children in a class.  Amy made me feel like I had really made a difference and few things could give me more joy than feeling like I made a difference for learners and for their teacher. 

It only got better when several parents made it a point to come up to me to talk about their child and how they kept talking about Ms. Beaver.  Truly, I am honored that God through Beth and her church provided me with the opportunity to continue to yse the gift He has so graciously instilled in my heart.  It’s quite likely that this volunteer gig will give me opportunities to sub in this school if all works out on that front. 

     Indeed, I am tired, but my cup is overflowing tonight.

Church Home

     I started writing a Facebook post to a few friends this morning, and it ended up saying things I am feeling strongly right now.  I hope all of you know how important my faith is to me and how much I rely on being part of a church body where I can worship, learn, and serve.  Several of you have prayed for me to find that church.  Thank you so much for your prayers.  After attending Gwinnett Community Church for several weeks, I wanted to either commit or move on. 

     Since there are no perfect churches, I approached this decision not seeking perfection or even total  comfort, but the place where God could work with, me and I could feel right about being there.  This is definitely the south and a good evangelical church stands on every corner.  I exaggerate, but not a lot.  Being a product of my own specific faith journey means there are certain things I hope for in a church and from the people who are there.  Much of it is common sense – friendly, Biblical, loving, good teaching - but some are rather intangible and more about feeling connected. 

     Website searches found a few churches for the final check-it -out list even before I arrived.  Because we had family plans on my first Sunday here, I chose the church that had an early service, so we could do our brunch.  (That’s the same way I got to Shalom the first Sunday and never left.) That church was Gwinnett Community Church (GCC).  Friendly greetings awaited me at the door, the worship was God centered using music that blesses me and leads me to worship.  The pastor used a Bible version that just happened to match the new Bible I had purchased specifically for carrying purposes.  Before he began his message on a challenging scripture passage, the pastor quoted a saying from long ago in the church that has been part of our Women’s Bible Study covenant at Shalom: In the essentials – unity; in the non-essentials – liberty; in all things – charity.  He shared his insights into the passage at hand, and did so with grace for those who might have a different view, and yet with clarity and the challenge to consider the passage carefully.  His words provided clarity for me.

     I decided to return and to jump into a women’s event later in the week.  After two more women’s events and full participation in a summer Bible study, it seemed right  to consider whether this was the place to start establish roots or to move on.  The time to evaluate arrived, and that would involve a visit with the pastor, who had actually been gone quite a few weeks on a missions trip and a short vacation.

    GCC seemed to be the right church, at least for now, but I had a couple of little things niggling me.  Praying about those and asking the Lord to erase those concerns or make it very clear if they were significant certainly led to anticipation for what the day would hold.  In the course of the Bible study and separate from any question or prompting , the leader directly spoke to my concern about rigidity or too great a list of essentials.  More and more it feels like neither I nor even Biblical scholars have all the answers.  God is simply bigger, greater, more powerful, more knowing, than that.  He has revealed much in His Word and we can know God by knowing Jesus, but I really think that we will just never know it all, not even in heaven because He will still be that same God and we will be worshiping Him because He is GREAT! 

     I love all the traditional favorite verses in the Bible, but where I am right now puts Isaiah 55:8-9 firmly in my list and in the current top spot for favorites. It's the verse that says "For my ways and not your ways,” says the Lord, “neither are my thoughts your thoughts.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my thoughts higher than your thoughts and my ways higher than your ways.”  I also love the quickness (aliveness) of the scriptures.  They really are new every morning, because we come to them as a different person, and thus they speak to us differently.  Don’t get me wrong, there are bottom line truths where I stand,  but my essentials list is pretty small compared to how I was raised.

In any case, I scheduled an appointment with the pastor for right after Tuesday Bible Study.  In addition to flexibility in the study, that morning the interaction and heartfelt  sharing  addressed another niggle that perhaps  studies were taught more than shared.  Learning that there was plenty of room for sharing here, and for differences of opinion, was a direct and hopeful sign.

     The meeting with the pastor went well.  He is a genuine person with a love for the Lord and for his congregation.  He holds them in esteem and wants to see people of all ages grow in their faith walk.  Three years ago the church was dying.  Today, with this pastor and strong leadership,  it is vibrant and growing.  I may be among the newest, but most of the people have been there less than three years.  It is a church that is finding its way and place in the community.  So, I have decided to join GCC and see what God has for me there.  I will wait for His call to serve.  I am excited for what might be in store.  In any case it will be good, because God is good, even if I don’t always “get it.”

Lamps and Lights

Apparently, I am supposed to learn something about lamps, lights, and myself.  . 

       As the apartment came together, one significant thing was missing – lamps.  Oh, the overhead lights provided light, the ambience was nonexistent.  An old office light on a TV table provided sufficient illumination for bedtime reading, but that look was not in the decorating scheme.   When the new nightstand arrived, the light looked…ridiculous.  The lamp from my old bedroom worked, but it got lost on the rather large nightstand purchased with the idea of additional storage as well as its primary function.   The living room gradually acquired sofa and chairs, entertainment center, end table and a bookcase but no light other than with the ceiling fan.  The situation became desperate.  The search for the perfect lamps was not going well.  Oh, not that beautiful lamps were unavailable, but at some point, cost does become a factor. Thoughts of using old lamps surfaced, but their size, shape, color and style just didn’t cut it.  Thus, the day came when something had to happen to bring light.  The answer, not high class, but sufficient, was Target and Costco. 

       Of course, when you buy at those establishments, the lamp comes in a box and needs to be assembled.  The torchiere style with reading lamp from Target was first.  Cautiously removing all parts from the well engineered packaging, I carefully and tightly screwed all the sections together, adding the glass pieces with great care.  After sliding the sofa away from the wall, I plugged it in and turned the switch.  Nothing.  Moving the plug to the other outlet accomplished – nothing .  One of the switches in the living room appears to have no purpose, but I thought perhaps it controlled the outlet, but trying every combination resulted in – nothing.   The next series of possible solutions involved light bulbs and testing them in other lamps in the outlets, and once again the outcome was – nothing.  Clearly the light was defective, and I was not happy.  Less than charitable thoughts led me to the conclusion that Target would get the assembled light back.  Packing all of it back in the foam and cardboard just was not going to happen, but since it was well past Target’s closing time, that would wait until the next morning.

       Desiring some kind of success in the lighting department, I decided to see how complicated the assembly of the table lamp for the bedroom would be.  Thankfully, it was just adding the harp and shade.  Even the light bulb was included.  As I set the lamp on the nightstand, plugged it in and turned the switch – light.  One out of two is still only 50, but I could read and then rest.

       Before heading out to Target the next morning, I just walked over and turned the switch on the lamp in the corner.  First the reading light came on, then with another twist the upper lamp alone, and the third click brought both to light..  My mind jumped to “a miracle”, and it was sort of one – though the lamp did not get changed.  The miracle was that I turned the switch in the right direction.  Undoubtedly, multiple lessons could be learned from this, but in the same week a different kind of lamp/light lesson hit home.

       In the Bible study I am doing here in Georgia, we are studying  Psalm 119.  Verse 105 is pretty famous, “Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”  Between a sermon reference to the passage earlier in the summer, and the deeper study we are doing, some new insights are coming.  In the past, people have pointed out that the kind of lamps, lanterns or torches a nighttime traveler in that era would have had to light a path would have been small.  Probably those lights would have shined only far enough to see the next step.  But the Psalmist says, it is also a light to the path, which seems to imply more than just one step.  This Psalm is all about God’s word, the commandments, precepts, laws, and ordinances God gave to the Israelites and the writer’s love for them.  As I reflected on this, it seemed to me that the more the Psalmist immersed himself in the Words Moses wrote and the ones he himself heard from God, the more light was shed on his path.  It was encouraging.  And perhaps I can tie this in with my own experience by noting that  the light will shine on your feet, your path or you living room, only if you actually turn it on by examining how you interact with it.

May your light shine today.