Tuesday With Teri

         One of the boats we are meeting up with frequently while on our journey here in the Bahamas is “Miss Grace”.   Though I do not know the origin of this name; most boat names have some sort of story or significance behind them, I am struck by the appropriateness of such a name this time of year.  All year long I am mindful of the grace (God’s unmerited favor) that I receive, but perhaps at Easter it is even more prominent in my thoughts as is the cost of such grace.  I know that it is only because of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ that I am able to come to the cross seeking forgiveness I do not deserve.   

          Today at 6am, thanks to a dog that likes to wake up early, I was out walking around the marina and docks.  The full moon was slipping down below the horizon casting a glow across the marina yard.   As I slowly lead the dog form tree to tree I could hear several roosters crowing.

         For reasons I do not wish to dwell on, there are several roosters, chickens and baby chicks, which reside in a thicket and field just beyond the restaurant kitchen.   These roosters do not quite “cock-a-doodle-do” so much as cackle and sort of screech out an odd melodious choking sound, “ah ah ah, ahhh, eech!”

         In the quiet of today’s walk, in the stillness of the air, the roosters crowing sent shivers up my spine.

          Today I thought of Peter.  I thought of his cowering just beyond the violent persecution of Jesus.  I thought of how his heart must have caught in his throat when HE heard the rooster crow…just as his friend and savior had predicted.  I thought of his overwhelming shame at the realization that he had indeed denied knowing his Lord. 

        This morning I too felt overwhelming shame at the sound of the rooster’s crowing.  How often have my choices saddened my God?  How often have I taken for granted the gift of every breath of life?  How many times have I squandered His resources or walked out of His will for my life?  The rooster’s crowing continued to fill the air around me.  I wanted to cry, my heart ached.

         I watched the moon completely slide under the curve of the earth, its pale light giving way to a dimness that is difficult to describe.  Within moments, a soft light emerged across the marina.   My eyes slowly adjusted from the dimness to pastel light as the sun punched its way up through the clouds on the horizon.   I am thankful today, and always, for the hope of redemption, a new day, for forgiveness and God’s grace.

          Those roosters certainly do not care what time of day it is, they continued to carry on throughout today…but I am glad.  You see, now when I hear their ragged cries, I remember God’s amazing grace, I remember my need for redemption, and I think to praise my redeemer!  My Redeemer LIVES!

“And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.  And they were saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?”  And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back…and entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were alarmed.  And he said to them, “Do not be alarmed.  You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  HE HAS RISEN HE IS NOT HERE!” Mark 16:2-6

          The other day I went for a jog.  It was not complete drudgery since it was when the hubby and I were at Spanish Cay Marina in the Bahamas.  I have been trying to jog a bit whenever possible since sometimes it is hard to exercise on boat trips like this.

         Spanish Cay is a privately owned place, which simply means there is not a lot there in terms of development.  However, it is beautiful, like a nature preserve.  I was trudging along the only road/path on the island, headphones blaring Mercy Me music, when a shape came up behind me and startled my heart to a whole new  aerobic level…it was Hurricane.

        Hurricane is a potcake.  Potcake is a term used for any kind of wild dog in the Bahamas.  The islands are almost overrun by dogs of mixed breeding.  There are even rescue groups and organizations trying to encourage neuter and spade practices in the local culture.  Some of these dogs are sad sights and severely neglected, others are thriving and happily wandering the streets and finding handouts and attention.  I think the word “potcake” comes from the practice of feeding them with scraps from the dinner pot.

         Hurricane came to Spanish Cay as a foster rescue dog.  During Hurricane Irene one of the marina’s managers received a call from friends running an animal rescue.  They needed a foster home for a puppy.  There was an interested owner, but due to the weather, they could not return to the island for a few months.  No surprise that once the folks at Spanish Cay had little Hurricane in their midst they fell in love and he would eventually call it home.  He is now much bigger and certainly healthy.  Hurricane has known grace and love.

         Hurricane pounced alongside me with typical puppy enthusiasm.   I’ve never had a dog run with me, it was kind of cool.  I’ve seen other runners out for a jog with their dog and always thought it looked fun…just not likely to happen for me since my porky yorky, Hughie,  not much of a runner,  even if I am slow enough for him.

        Hurricane kept pace with me for a while before moving on ahead.  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at me several times before disappearing over a hill.  I appreciated his company and that he seemed to care about what I was doing and where I was going.  That matters.

       I thought of Hurricane when a loved one of mine was sharing about a very difficult time she is going through.  In the midst of having a lot to complain about, she was quick to say how much support and love she had around her through family and friends.  That matters.   God knows we all need people around us who care what we are doing and where we are going.

        We’ve  met other boaters who shared they had been friends for over 40 years….met in 2^nd grade and had seen each other through every aspect of life it seemed.  At our current marina, I met a woman who has been meeting the same group of friends here since 1975!  I watched them gather for dinner at a table near ours, and thought of the friends God has set by my side.  I am thankful God has placed people in my life who care about what I am doing and where I am going.  That matters.

        Hurricane was a frolicking furry reminder of the importance of knowing someone cares what you are doing and where you are going. 

Lord, thank you for those you have placed in our lives that care what we are doing and where we are going.  Help us to be that person for others, to care for our loved ones and friends in such as way that they too know someone care what they are doing and where they are going.  It matters.

The hubby and I are on a bit of a trip.  As most of you all know we embarked on an adventure to take our boat down the ICW to the Bahamas this month. (www.boat2bahamas.wordpress.com)

With so much beauty all around us as we travel I began to feel overwhelmed…so much to share, so few words to describe.  Everyday I am humbled by the handiwork of God and reminded to thank God for every new morning as a gift.  Funny how when the days began last week I so quickly launched into my “things to do” that I seldom thanked God for the day even starting.  I had thought my first post here would be a reflection of the wonderful things I am seeing…but no, instead God placed a lesson in my life and on my heart that has to do with hair.

This afternoon, as Scott and I spent a bit of time in a pool at the marina dock, I bemoaned to my hubby about my dwindling hair supply.  My parents blessed me in many ways, but genetically hair is not one of them.  I have fine and rapidly thinning hair.  I am probably more aware of it at this time since I must keep it covered with a ball cap to prevent a sunburned scalp.  When my head gets wet it pretty much melts away like cotton candy and I look bald.   Sigh, I don’t mean to be vain, honestly normally I don’t mind too much…I could have much worse problems and I know this….but for some reason today I was complaining.

Later, when we were back at our boat, we met a few residents of a nearby condo community out walking their dogs on the dock.  A couple and their friend.  As we listened to their stories and got to know them a bit, Deb, the wife, said, “Tomorrows the day!”   Apparently she has been battling cancer.  She is in her second chemo treatment and the prognosis is very good…but she was told she would lose her hair and now it was happening.  “I was able to be pretty okay about everything, I even already have the wigs, but yesterday when the hair came out in handfuls, I sort of freaked out.”  She said this with a smile that I am certain has been plastered on her face throughout this ordeal.  She is genuinely upbeat and grateful for her loving husband and supportive family.  “Tomorrow is the day I go to the hair dresser and have my hair cut off,”  I looked at her thick mass of curly blonde hair poking out from under a ball cap, “it’s pretty much gone on top now anyway.”  She was still smiling at her friend, but it was obvious this was not an easy time for her.

Tonight as I walked our dog, Hughie, out past the docks and over by the condos, I couldn’t help but look up at the lit windows and wonder which was hers.  I thought of her brushing her hair for the last time tonight, of her maybe trying on her wigs one more time, of her husband telling her how beautiful she is and reminding her it will grow back.  I prayed below the condo windows, asking God for continued healing and grace for them, and also asking for forgiveness for my petty concern about my follicle challenges.

I pictured this sweet couple as a well anchored boat.  Even when anchored, a boat will swing with currents and feel the pulse of the waves around it.  They may be weathering a swinging boat, but they are anchored in hope.  I am reminded that we too have a great anchor of hope in the savior whose life death and resurrection we celebrate this coming month(and always)…..so let life swing us, waves come around us, or weather grow foul…our anchor will hold.   Now, when I see my thinning hair, I will challenge myself to not think of the loss, but thank God for the reminder of the lesson of hope.

“We have this sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone a forerunner on our behalf..” Hebrews 6:19&20

The other night, as I sat on the couch watching TV with my little dog Hughie asleep by my side, I heard a noise in our kitchen.   It was the sound of dog food being moved around the bowl.  Let me pause here so you can refer back the first sentence…oh, and by the way, we only have one dog! 

After stalking the ghost like movement of the culprit, I was finally able to snap a blurry photo of a not so cute mouse squeezing himself under the laundry door and helping himself to some Kibbles & Bits!  We even found quite a stash of dog food piled behind the washing machine, ick.  It was battle time!

Armed with no mess mouse traps, peanut butter and a few kibbles for bait, I set out to protect our domain.  When I woke the next day, one of the traps was tripped.  I like the new no mess traps,  they have a tab that moves positions when there is a mouse inside.  I simply plucked it up by the little handle and tossed it in the garbage outside.  I felt victorious!  I felt empowered!  I felt like a big girl who handled her crisis with grace and courage, without having to call on my hubby!….until the next night.

I continued to set out traps.  One evening, just before bed, I looked at one of the traps and noticed the tab had shifted.  “Hmmmm,” I thought, “I just put this down, maybe it just tripped accidentally.”  I held the plastic container up to the light to see if there was a critter inside, didn’t see anything…so I decided to reset it…MISTAKE!  As I pushed it down a bit, I heard the panic filled squeal of a live mouse!  I dropped it on the table and joined in the squealing!  Oooo, ick, ick,, ick….creepy, creepy ,creepy, even as I type this the goose bumps run up my arms at the memory!   I almost let the mouse out as it was in my hands….let’s just not try to imagine what would have transpired had the mouse leapt from it’s trap and into my arms!  It was bad enough as it was…. I yelled like the girl I am for the hubby who was upstairs, grabbed a hanger and snagged the trap by the corner and carried it outside.  The entire time I was emitting those embarrassing sounds we usually only make when no one sees how truly repulsed we are by something…”eewewewewewewewe, ahgahgahga, eeeeeeeeeeek, yuuuuuuuuuuuuck” combined with shuddering and convulsing dance like moves.  Yep, not my finest hour.

I am happy to report we have not seen any mouse activity these last few days.  Of course this got me thinking….this is not the first time we’ve had to “deal” with mice in our home.  Several years ago we saw evidence of their existence and actually hired professionals to handle them for us.  THEN the next year we had what one professional reptile exterminator referred to as “not quite” an infestation of snakes.  Those of you who follow the blog may recall this time in our lives as it was an issue that inspired a few posts.  Apparently our snakes, which NORMALLY stay inside the house walls(I know, yuck right) or around the perimeter of our home, were having difficulty finding dinner since we did such a good job of ridding the house of mice.  Apparently, this resulted in them actually getting in to our living areas a few times.

Sooooo, now the mice are back since we kindly got rid of their predators.   Now I wonder if I get rid of too many mice, will the snakes become more evident?    One day I am asking God to help me get rid of mice, next, I am asking God to take away the snakes; then again, for Him to rid our place of mice…so now I am thinking, maybe I was a bit hasty in my requests.  God knows what He is doing….he knows what I desire, and what the snakes and mice need for a balanced environment.

 I certainly would not think of snakes as a gift from God, nor would I think to be thankful for the inconvenience of mice, and yet they had purpose.  What a great example of how God’s ways may not be my own…sometimes I do not understand why God allows things to happen in our lives, or even why He keeps certain things from taking place as we desire….but I am humbly reminded by my mice that in ALL things He has a plan and His ways are best.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways declares the LORD.”  Isaiah 55:8

Lord, help us to trust Your ways and to understand Your thoughts that we may obediently follow you.

I’ve seen it in the news before….“Couple Found, Safe After 30 Minute Hike Became a 30 Hour Ordeal!”, “Man, Survives 5 days on Trail Mix and A Single Bottle of Water After Getting Lost During A Late Afternoon Jog.”,  “Day Trip Turns Into Nightmare as Hikers Veer Off Trail, Found by Local Scouts 3 Days Later!”

          I always thought it a bit odd that these wayward wood travelers never seemed to be remotely prepared for an unexpected extended journey.   After all, who goes traipsing into the woods with little more than a bottle of water?  How hard is it to stay on a trail in broad daylight?  How can a 30 minute hike turn into a news worthy, life threatening event?  Well, I think I have the answer to these questions now.

         Yep, the hubby and I went for another hike the other day.  The sun was shining and he was anxious to try a new trail and his handy new backpack/camera case.  Having learned a bit from our previous hiking misadventures, we were careful to dress appropriately for the chilly weather and dodgy terrain.  We loaded Scott’s new camera bag/backpack with one energy bar and some water.  I had tissues in my pocket for the inevitable drippy nose that accompanies early morning, chilly weather, pre-Spring hikes.  We both had our cell phones and a good pair of sturdy shoes.  We were ready to hit the trail like Luis and Clark, or Lois and Clark, or maybe more like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.

           The trail was clearly  marked with blue lines painted on various trees.  As part of an old civil war trail, it is maintained with great care.  By maintained I mean, someone saws logs that have recently fallen onto the path and the rickety wooden bridges that span small gaps where the trail crosses water or ravines are never missing important boards.  It is still a natural trail, and as such is prone to variations caused by time and weather.

          When the trail changes direction, or if there are various paths to choose from, the trail is marked with two blue lines on the nearest tree.  We were feeling confident in our ability to spot such marks; after all, we have hiked at least two of these trails before…we were practically experts! ( In hindsight, I can almost hear God giggling at our misplaced confidence.)

         About an hour into our journey, we realized we had not seen any of those blue marks in a while.  Matter of fact, we could no longer see the well worn trail we had been on…it was as if the path just disappeared into a pile of leaves, rocks and tree branches.   “Are we lost?” I asked my hubby/trusty trail guide.  “Not at all, just follow me” came his reply, and I did.

          I followed him over tree trunks, under thickets, past thorn-covered plants and deep into a tangle of tree branches, vines, and piles of decaying leaves.   “Are you sure this is the way?”  I asked, not just once, but with every step I took.  “Yes!” he would respond in an ‘I can’t-believe you don’t trust me’ tone.

          As I teetered over a rather large fallen tree and struggled to catch up to my ‘sure he knows where he is going’ husband, I began to envision the headlines.  “Wife kills Husband for Last Energy Bar Only to Die Herself from Starvation a Day Later on Remote Trail” or “Local Couple Found After a Early Morning Hike Turned Into a 10 Day Ordeal!” ….. “So THIS is how it happens!”, I thought to myself.

          We were not lost for too long,( according to my hubby/trail guide, we were never actually lost), but it was humbling to see how quickly we could lose our way.  How did we miss the marks?  How did we manage to veer off the intended path?  I was reminded of how beneficial a well walked; marked and planned path is to those on a journey to an unfamiliar place.

Lord, as I follow the path you have set my feet on, help me to keep my eyes and heart open to the things You use to guide me,  to follow the trail worn down by the “cloud of witnesses” you have lead before me and to surround myself with co-journeyers who will do the same.

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race set before us…” Hebrews 12:1

          “A dolphin!, my husband yelled from the back of our boat. I rushed to where he stood and looked quickly the direction he pointed….no dolphin.   I could see only the concentric rings of rippling water marking a place where something had no doubt surfaced.  I scanned the area, squinted into the sun reflecting off the water, and tried my hardest to see the dolphin.  “Over there!” , the husband now bellowed as I scurried to his side of the boat and followed his pointed finger…again only ripples and waves did I see.  I really, really, wanted to see the dolphin!  I stared into the swift moving current for a  long time.  I was drawn to any disturbance in the water, certain I almost caught a glimpse of the dolphin.

          This brought back a memory from when I was a little girl.  The details, of course, are not clear, so I will no doubt embellish the story a bit…but I do recall being in the Seattle Washington area and visiting a place where it was possible to see whales at times.  My family was there along with and aunt, uncle and my cousins.  I remember my cousin and I trying hard to see a whale…I really, really wanted to see one.  Every white capped wave, every shimmer of sun off the ocean surface, seemed like a promise of a whale sighting…to the point that I convinced myself I had seen, well, almost seen, a whale.  That is when I uttered the memorable line, “I ALMOST SAW A WHALE!”  Yep, the adults thought it funny…my cousin and I felt we had succeeded in our effort to spot a whale.

          Dolphin spotting this day felt much the same.  The hubster kept seeing the elusive dolphin and I kept feeling like I was only “almost seeing” one.  I thought about how in life, it is easy to miss seeing the important things God has for us, lessons, blessings, evidences of Him and reminders of His care for us.   Am I the one who only sees the “rings or ripples”, the one who is a bit late to recognize something, or too distracted to take the time to really look?  Do I look everywhere but where God wants me to look?  Was I destined to be the “ring, ripple” spotter while others get to see the real thing?  Is that enough?  No, I want to see the real thing!  I want to appreciate when I see the “rings or ripples” that mark a place or situation that God had impacted…but I also want to be busy seeking God always, heart open, eyes wide, and ready to witness His grace and mercy.  I want to be able to shout “There He is!”

          I did learn that day that sometimes to see what others see, you have to be where they are and be patient.  I stood on the dock for quite a while, but eventually the dolphin came into my view.  I don’t think seeing dolphins will ever get old…it is always exciting.  We watched as a small pod of them  played  around the marina and then disappeared into the deeper water, but not before I had a chance to point to them for others on the dock nearby and shout, “There they are!”

“How blessed are those who observe His testimonies, Who seek Him with all their heart” Psalm 119:2

Lord, help us to seek you with all our heart and not just “almost see” , but to truly see Your work in our lives!

          Had a rather odd thing occur today….Quick background:  I donated a kidney to my dad about 20 years ago (I’ll save that for another blog post someday).  Recently  the university medical center that performed the procedure contacted me about participating in a research project following living kidney donors.  A gentleman from the center has been working with me over the phone and by mail.   I have filled out questionnaires, submitted test results, and stuff like that.  Normally he contacts me, but I have tried to return his call at least once.  I entered his number from a voicemail into my phone a few months ago.  Wellllllllll, apparently I managed to enter in a wrong number…but this is where it gets really really  weird.

          I hit the call button to contact the kidney research guy , I needed to confirm he had all the info he needed.  A nice woman answered the phone.  Obviously, a wrong number…but before I could excuse myself the voice on the other end of the line said, “Teri? Is that you?”   SOMEHOW, I managed to enter a wrong number that just happened to be the phone number of the woman I met last year while running my first half marathon down in New Orleans! 

Let that sink in a minute……….it took me a while to wrap my head around what had transpired too.

         The only thing she had in common with my kidney guy was an area code….what are the chances of that!!!!   I did not even have her number saved in my phone!   She had entered my phone number into her phone following our race, so when I called it came up as “Teri 13.1”….she said the last time I called, I left a message about kidney stuff, but it did not make sense to her.  She wondered what the deal was. 

         Imagine dialing a wrong long distance number and finding the person on the other end is someone you know!!!  Definitely a wow, weird and wonderful happening.  I might say I don’t know why it happened, but I know my God enough to know it was not the freak chance it seems to be. 

          It was so good to talk with Angie again.  My relationship with Angie began as we trudged alongside each other to complete our 13.1 mile run.  She was just a stranger amid the mass of runners but, after a short exchange of conversation, she quickly became my encourager, inspiration, and running buddy.  She lives in Alabama and my only contact with her since then has been through e-mails, and sadly not even recently.

         After trying to reconcile my brain to the crazy circumstance that found me talking to this distant friend, we quickly fell into comfortable conversation again.  It was great catching up.  We may not have a lot in common, but we have a common God.  He continues to use this sweet lady to inspire me.   I’m pretty sure I could not do all that she does, homeschooling, caring for her family and extended family, and working full time and dealing with the occasional health issue.  I love how we kind of get each other too…when I confess that sometimes I am too lazy to go for a run…not because it is hard, but because I don’t want to have to shower again, she laughs…not because it’s funny, but because she knows what that feels like! 

          By the time we said goodbye I felt refreshed and inspired.  To be honest she had not been on my mind in some time, yet now I find myself eager to pray for her and her family.  I am also reminded of our first meeting and the half marathon we managed to complete…even though it was a life impacting event, time had already begun to thin the memory a bit, and I want to always remember that time and the lessons I learned. 

Thank you God, for the wow, weird and wonderful moment today, and for the inspiration found in the faraway friend!

          When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the dark.  This posed quite a problem since I shared a room with my sister who preferred a dark room in which to sleep.  Each night there would be a quiet battle about just how far to crack the door and how much light we could let in the room.  She would try to give me tips on going to sleep in spite of my fear…count sheep, talk to the Sheppard, think happy thoughts…none of which helped in the least, until one night she told me to close my eyes.   She then proceeded to make the point that when I closed my eyes, it was dark and no different from the dark room.  Now, that could have gone badly, I often wonder why I did not start feeling afraid to close my eyes, but it worked.  I also knew that I could banish that mean old darkness with nothing more than the flick of a switch or the opening of a door…peace at last.

          Today is Valentine’s Day.  Today I am not only thinking of those I love, but of a love far greater than any I could imagine.  I am thinking of the love bestowed on us all by God through His son Jesus Christ.  Today I am reminded that in Him there is no darkness.  Today I am thankful for a love that immerses me in light.

          I hope that as you read these Words you will know that you are loved beyond measure by a God who defeats darkness, immerses you in light ,who created you, knows you, sees you, protects you, plans for you and thinks of you more often than there are  grains of sand…that is LOVE. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

1 God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand. 2 I’m an open book to you; even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking. 3 You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of your sight.

4 You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. 5 I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too – your reassuring presence, coming and going.

6 This is too much, too wonderful – I can’t take it all in! 7 Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit? to be out of your sight? 8 If I climb to the sky, you’re there! If I go underground, you’re there! 9 If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon, 10 You’d find me in a minute – you’re already there waiting!

11 Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark! At night I’m immersed in the light!” 12 It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you; night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.

13 Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. 14 I thank you, High God – you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration – what a creation! 15 You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

16 Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. 17 Your thoughts – how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them! 18 I couldn’t even begin to count them – any more than I could count the sand of the sea. Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!

(Psalm 139:1-18)The Message

I have had quite an adventurous few weeks. 

          Two weeks ago, I went into the hospital for a medical “procedure.”   (I will try to walk the fine line between being transparent and honest with not over sharing.)  Late last year I discovered I had developed uterine fibroids.  Not cancer, not even a big health concern, but after discussions with my doctor we agreed it was best to have them dealt with at this time.  Suffice to say it was not life threatening, nor was it a big deal.  Rather, it was a fairly common procedure requiring a short overnight stay in the hospital and an easy two week recovery.  

          All went as expected.  I had great care and was home by noon the following day.  Recovery was nothing more tasking than rest and medicine; I am a fan of both.   Five days later I was feeling fine and excited to see life close to normal around the corner, that is until I went to the grocery store.

          It was Tuesday.  I remember it well.  I had stopped by the local grocer to pick up a few things.  As I was checking out the kind cashier simply uttered , “Hello, how are you today?”  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was overcome with emotion.  I wanted to crawl over the counter, throw myself into her arms and cry.    I hurried out to my car, thankful I was able to fight such a crazy urge, and drove straight home, crying all the way.  “WHAT WAS THAT?” I kept asking myself once I was safely home.   All throughout that day, I kept having odd bouts of crying, no reason, and not long lasting.  Something was not right.  I admit I am an emotional person, but this was not normal even for me!

          My husband was out of town, which may have been a good thing since I am certain my behavior would have worried him.  The next day I continued to feel on the verge of tears throughout the day.  Anytime someone asked how I was on the phone or in an e-mail, I had to fight back sobs.  Yep, as if crying easily was not bad enough, now I was SOBBING at every kind word sent my way.  I began to pray asking God to keep kind people out of my path.

           I had to go to Target.  I purposefully went to one further from my home in hopes of avoiding running into someone I knew who would ask, “Hey. How are you?”   I knew this would trigger illogical sobbing in public.  I even prayed asking God to place disconnected, stern faced people in my path this day.  It almost worked.  I was practically at the check out before a worse case scenario crossed my path.  Not only did I run into someone I knew, but it was a couple I had not seen in some time, he, a compassionate local pastor and she, a typical kindhearted pastor’s wife complete with a sweet southern accent.   Pastor: Hey Teri how are you? It is so good to see you!  Wife: Oh my goodness, it is good to see you, HOW ARE YOU?(said with a sweet and very earnest tone)Me: I’m good.(do you get in extra trouble with God if you lie to a pastor?)  I hold my shopping cart with white knuckles and we manage a brief surface exchange of pleasantries before I hurry back to the car.  I am grumbling under my breath to God, “Seriously God?  What were you thinking?”

          By Thursday, it is safe to say the wheels were coming off the wagon.  I was sure I was going crazy and convinced it had something to do with the afore mentioned procedure.  Satan latched onto that and soon I was imagining all kinds of reasons why I no longer had control of my emotions, none of them good of course.  That morning I had a previously scheduled doctor appointment, not at all related to the procedure.  It was a simple check in with a doctor who has been working with me on my overall health and diet.  On the way there, I prayed, pleaded, with God. “Please don’t let me cry in front of these people, please do not let them be too kind.”    Felt fine, pleasant hellos in the waiting room, all seems good….yep, as the nurse is simply taking my blood pressure I begin to SOB, not cry, SOB.  Confused and worried she held me and the dam broke.  I am sure I got snot on her shirt as I fell heartbroken against her shoulder.   No reason.

          The doctor entered the room with the kind of caution one would use when approaching a crouching tiger.   I cried as I tried to explain the events of the last few days.  He encouraged me to see my other doctor and confirmed that yes, this was not normal.  Before I left, he took my hand and prayed with me, that I would find an answer and peace. Yep, I cried.

          I then went to the hospital where the procedure was done in hope of securing a follow up appointment so I could ask questions about this turn of events.  As I walked up to the receptionist desk, the two ladies who handle registration and scheduling recognized me and greeted me with big smiles and a sweet refrain of my trigger phrase, “Hey! How are you?”  Once again I fall apart. Who cries when someone asks how they are?  Apparently, I do these days.  It did not take long for one of the dear women to take me in her arms.  Both of them uttered loving encouragement.  “God has this.” ,“The Holy Spirit is here, you are here for a reason.” “We’ll figure this out.” 

          They had a nurse come and speak with me.  Of course I cried as I told her about my problem, which was obvious I guess.  She was kind and caring.  Even though I did not have an appointment, one of the doctors agreed to see me.  As I sat waiting for her, one of the nurses who remembered me from my procedure stopped in the midst of her busy day and asked how I was doing.  Instead of hurrying away when I burst into tears once more, she gave me comfort and assurance. The doctor arrived and asked, “How are you?” (At this point I think everyone is saying that because they know I’ll cry.)  Eventually, after listening to me and asking all the right questions, she confirmed I was not crazy, whew, but that my hormones were a mess in part due to the procedure and a change in medicine I had recently had.

          Today the sun is shining and I am sooooooo much better.  Things are leveling out and I no longer feel compelled to launch myself into the arms of unsuspecting kind people!  God is GOOD!

          During those days I spent considerable time asking God to KEEP kind people from me.   Instead, God in His infinite mercy, put kind people in my path.  His people, who would reflect His love to me.

         I was surrounded by friends, medical professionals and even strangers who lived out Colossians 3:12 “…those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience;”    They were the hands and feet of our God.

           I share this challenge with you, that we not only be the  hands and feet of God to those He puts in our lives, but that we also welcome and recognize when God is using His people to love us….even when the wheels start coming off the wagon.

          It was an uncharacteristically warm January day.  Scott and I decided to go on a bit of an adventure.  We had discovered a nice civil war era hiking trail and wanted to do some more exploring. 

         The riverside trail had obviously been overrun fairly recently.  Long grasses laid flat like hair slicked back on a 1950’s teenager.   Trees, leaves, and mud lined the path as if someone had taken a spackling paddle and smoothed it down.  At first, it was neat to see the river’s meandering footprint…until we realized that also meant the trail was reduced to a quagmire of mud and leaves.  The further we ventured the more time we spent walking on mud than dry ground.  Our fancy hiking gear, i.e. tennis shoes, soon became caked with mud, which greatly affected traction. 

          I was following behind Scott and thankful I could plot my next steps based on how far he sunk in the mud before me.  For the most part, we managed to avoid great tragedy, but there were several close calls…mainly on my part.  There was no way to step confidently, even if the path appeared dry.  Slick mud hid below dusty leaves as if nature had created her own booby-traps for wayward hikers. 

          Several times I found myself flailing my arms in an effort to realign my torso with my feet and keep from falling in the mud.  After a while, I began to notice something.  No matter how treacherous the terrain was, or how difficult a particular patch of the trail was to navigate, Scott never looked back to check on me!  Oh, every now and then he’d ask “You okay back there?” without so much as peering over his shoulder.  At first I figured he was too busy focusing on his own effort, and who could fault him for that, I did after all count on his good foot choices to guide my own.  However, eventually I began to feel a little uncared for and neglected.  What if I needed help?  What if I could use a hand to steady my step? What if I fell?

          “Scott, aren’t even going to turn around and check on me?” I asked after a particularly squishy passage.  “I don’t need to, I am keeping an ear out for you.” He replied.   I’ll let that statement set with you a while….umhmmm The man of my dreams, friend for life, father of my children and current hiking buddy was only listening for my falling!  Apparently he was sure that he would hear the “swoosh, thud” that would no doubt result should I fall and THEN he would help me!!!

          You will not find it surprising that I took opportunity in the middle of the forest to correct his mindset.  Just keeping an “ear out” for me only allowed him to assist with the consequences of my fall, whereas if he would keep an “eye out” for me he could see I needed assistance and perhaps lend a hand to lessen, or even PREVENT, a fall.  Surprisingly, we made it back to our vehicle without him ever hearing the dreaded “swoosh thud.”   

          I am happy to report that on a more recent hiking endeavor, he did visually check on me periodically and asked if needed assistance at least twice!   I can’t help but think about how grateful I am that my God does more than “keep an ear out” for me.  A life journey can be filled with slick spots, hard rocks, and difficult passages.   I know that every step I take is under the watchful eye of a sovereign God.  He is there to prevent my falling.  If He allows me to fall, it will be so He can show me His provision.  If I fall because I fail to follow Him, He is the first to see it and the first to be there for my recovery.

          “For the eyes of the Lord move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His.”  2 Chronicles 16:9