Tuesday With Teri

          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

            I’m not sure where she came from.  I’m not even certain of her age.   I do know that she sat atop the Christmas tree for many of my growing up years, quietly presiding over each holiday season.  I acquired her from my mother many years ago.

Her gold foil, cardboard wings, once ended in perfect points extending her stature to seven inches.  Now her wing span is slightly reduced, as the tips went from being slightly bent, to folded, until they eventually tore off.  Her dark red velvet dress, trimmed with gold brick brack, fits snuggly to her waist before flowing over her cardboard form.  Her once silky, radiant white hair, now hangs in brittle coils around her shoulders.  A little gold foil halo covers a place on her head where some of her hair has given way to the passage of time.

Her head and hands are made of wax, as is the candle she holds in one hand.  I remember her as a beautiful lady, her face perfect and delicate.  Those qualities are now faded.  Her head, once held high and straight, has melted somewhat.  It now bows lovingly downward and a bit to the right.  Two years ago a significant amount of time and effort was put into reattaching her long held candle to her now misshaped hand.  Yep, she’s a bit of mess you might say.  I like that about her.

She doesn’t light up or sparkle, and quite often she is too small for the tree, making her look even more out of place.  But I look forward to her presence in my living room each Christmas.  Late at night, when the tree is lit and others have gone on to bed, I find myself thinking of her and all we have in common.

I too, know what it’s like to have my wings bent and torn.  I know what it feels like when your body gives itself over to the challenges of time.  My hair is no longer silky or radiant, and I only wish had a halo to hide the places where it has become thin.  I understand the sagging of her shoulders and the bowing of her head.  I have felt the weight every mother bears for her family.  I know the need to bow my head in constant prayer.   I love her imperfection.  She’s a holiday reminder that God loves us in our imperfection.

A love full of grace, a savior born to take on the sin of the world, a reason to celebrate, reflected in the melted features and unraveled edges of our Christmas tree Angel.

God’s love was revealed among us in this way. God sent His son into the world so we might live through Him. 1 John 4:9

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

         This week we continue our advent celebration.  Each week, four prior to Christmas  Eve, we gather to light a candle and consider the coming of our savior.  It is a  wonderful time to stop in the midst of the season and truly focus on the reason for all the wonderful merriment of Christmas.  This final week we celebrate His LOVE for us.

         As I sat at my computer beginning to compose this week’s devotion, I was met with a bit of an intrusion…my pesky, porky Yorkie, Hughie.  I had finished my Christmas shopping, house cleaning and dinner preparations and was looking forward to collecting my thoughts in a rare moment of quiet and calmness.  Hughie normally sits at my side on the bench with me as I write devotions for the blog.  Today he had other plans.  Today he kept jumping up onto the desk sticking his wet nose in my face, laying down on the mouse pad or licking my fingers as I tried to type.  Hughie is a Yorkshire “Terrier”, which is by God’s design a very persistent breed.   This may be a handy quality if you need him to track or catch prey…not so fine a quality when the task he is focused/driven to accomplish is to have your attention.

          No matter how often I placed him off the desk or scolded his efforts to distract me, he continued to insist I stop everything and love on him.  Yep, all he wanted was for me to stop typing and pet his head, scratch his ears and hold him in my lap….none of which are easily done while writing.  When placed on the floor he sat below my desk and cried/whined nonstop.  He was not going to give up; he is a terrier after all.  He wanted love and attention, and NOTHING was going to keep it from him.  I finally conquered his strong will by placing him in another room altogether, along with a nice bone and his favorite blanket.  I tend to get frustrated with his antics; dogs should not be this needy.  Of course, I realize I am to blame in part…he loves me.

         In the morning, he seeks me out.  He needs to lick my face and feel me rub his furry noggin before he even thinks about eating his breakfast.  If I am still upstairs, and the hubby lets him out of the kennel, he races to the bedroom door and whines/waits for me to emerge and greet him.  Every time I come home, no matter how long I have been away, to the mailbox or mall, he wags his whole body with absolute relief and joy. 

        I have often teased my family that if they would love me as much as Hughie does life would be so much better for all of us.  I’m not saying my family doesn’t love me, they just don’t  love me with the tail wagging, face licking enthusiasm I get from the dog.  (I am not saying I want my face licked by any member of the family by the way…you know what I mean). 

        Now that I think of it, I do know what it feels like to be loved enthusiastically by someone other than my dog.   My God loves me like that and more.   God desires to be close to me.  He never gives up on me, never stops loving me even when I try to shut Him out or quiet His calling on my heart.  He never tires of my pushing Him away, He waits patiently for me to turn to Him and experience His love.  He does not love me because I have earned or deserved it.   He loves me because I am His creation and it saddens Him that my sin separates me from Him.  He has provided a way for me to be restored to His fellowship, be forgiven of my sin, and find peace through the sacrifice of His Son.

“By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him.  In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be a propitiation for our sins.”   ( 1John 4:9&10)

Our God is more tenacious than any terrier and loves us with unfathomable enthusiasm!  This week we consider His great love evidenced by the birth of His son, our Savior.  Let us respond with an enthusiastic, tenacious love for our God!

          It has been a while since I worked a jigsaw puzzle.  I used to like having one set out on the kitchen table so everyone could work on it throughout the week.   The other day, as I was cleaning out a cabinet, I found a small pile of puzzle pieces in far corner on a shelf.  This seemed odd at first; I did not have a boxed puzzle in the cabinet.  I laughed when I realized where they must have come from. 

          One year, when my mother was in town visiting us, I emptied the contents of a puzzle onto the kitchen table.  It was a puzzle we had tried to complete before but had eventually put away .  My mom is good at working puzzles and I thought she would enjoy the project.  We all worked on the puzzle from time to time, but it was my mom who managed to fit most of the pieces into their proper place.   She seemed to enjoy working on it throughout her stay…until she came to the final stages of the puzzle.  With almost all the stray pieces nestled in place, it was obvious there were numerous pieces missing.

          Yep, I had inadvertently given my mom an incomplete puzzle!  In my defense, I had no way of knowing there were missing pieces, but that did little to detract from the cruel reality that she had started something she would never see finished.  The beautiful scene was marred by a severely lacking sky, bits of a house and carriage and even a few vital “edge” pieces.  I have no doubt the small pile I unearthed from the cabinet was comprised of those missing pieces.   I tossed them in the trash; the puzzle they belong to had long since been discarded.

           I thought of that day when we concluded our puzzle would never been complete.   It was frustrating and deflating.  How much is humanity like our puzzle?  Nations and generations of individuals have tried to work things to fit a plan or expectation.  How much have we strived to find our place in the world and to be happy?  We are not complete.  By our own deeds we find we are lacking.  We are separated from one another by so many aspects.  We are separated from our heavenly Father by our sin…we are as a group and as individuals, incomplete. 

           The missing pieces of my puzzle may have been found on a back shelf in a cabinet, but the piece we are missing in our lives was been found lying in a manger long ago.   This week we consider the PEACE brought to all of man at the advent of Jesus Christ our Savior.   It is through his birth, life, death and resurrection that we find the pieces that reconcile our imperfection with the perfection of our God.  Through Christ, we find true PEACE and forgiveness for our sin.

“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ.  For He himself is our peace…”  Ephesians 2:13-14

        This week we continue our advent celebration.  Each week, four prior to Christmas Eve, we gather to light a candle and consider the coming of our savior.  It is a wonderful time to stop in the midst of the season and truly focus on the reason for all the wonderful merriment of Christmas.  These devotion entries will center on the advent themes of Hope, Joy, Peace and Love.  This week we consider JOY.

           I could not help but smile as I read this facebook post from one of the young moms at our church, she wrote…

“I asked Zachary to pick out the little broken crayons for a project. He comes back with a handful and tells me that there weren’t enough so he had to make some (by breaking our good crayons). God is testing me…”

         Beyond the hilarity of this miscommunication and Zachary’s creative problem solving skills, I keep thinking of those broken crayons.  Though I do not know what sort of project his mom had in mind when she asked for the little broken crayon pieces, I am assuming it might involve melting them into something new, beautiful or useful.  Broken crayons are perfect for things like that…they are easier to melt and are more than likely not being used in their current state.

          While it may not have been his mom’s intent, little Zachary’s efforts were meant to provide his mom with all the pieces she might need for her project.  Are we like these crayons?  Perhaps we are whole and finding ourselves being put to use just as we are, where we are.  Perhaps we are broken, waiting for God to repurpose us for His glory and melt us into His perfect will.  PERHAPS we are intact, but find God snapping us into the piece He needs for His perfect plan for our lives.

         I think of the many times I have felt broken and realize that it has been in these times that I found growth and God’s grace.  When I am broken, I am eagerly seeking my God.  When I am broken, I am listening to God.  When I am broken, I am more easily molded into what God’s plans are for me.  Just like Zachary broke perfectly good crayons, maybe God breaks seemingly perfectly good people so He can use them and melt them into something even better!

This week of advent, we consider the JOY the birth of our Savior brought to us all.  Today I am praising God that the advent of the Christ child, means that though I may be broken He can restore me for His glory.  The birth of our savior was indeed, “good news of a great JOY, which shall be for all people”!

May we take JOY in knowing He has provided redemption for all people…

broken people.

“And the angle said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold I I bring you good new of a great joy which shall be to all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”   Luke 2:10-11

          This week we begin our advent celebration.  Each week, four prior to Christmas Eve, we gather to light a candle and consider the coming of our savior.  It is a wonderful time to stop in the midst of the season and truly focus on the reason for all the wonderful merriment of Christmas.  These next four devotion entries will center on the advent themes of Hope, Joy, Peace and Love.  This week we consider HOPE.

          I forget what year it was, all I recall is that I was young and my dad was deployed overseas.  My mom had taken my sister and I to see our grandma and family members in Illinois.  It was a long ago and my entire thought process has long since been lost to time, but for some reason I had conjured an expectation in my wee little head on the way to grandma’s house.  I had begun to hope that my dad was going to surprise us and be there when we arrived.(This was long before images of military  dad’s and mom’s returning to surprise their families appeared on YouTube or even on television.)  To this day, I am not sure why I ever thought this could happen. 

          So certain was I that upon entering the house I took one quick glimpse at the man before me and ran to him and wrapped my arms around his legs and shouted “dad!”.  While my memory of this day has sadly grown cloudy, I do recall some things with great clarity.  I remember a shocking silence.  I remember allowing my eyes to truly focus on whose legs I then held.  I remember seeing the sad; tear filled eyes of my dear Uncle Max and becoming aware of my mistake.  I was horrified.  I was embarrassed first because I had mistaken my Uncle Max for my dad, although they have always looked a lot alike.  Secondly, I was embarrassed that I had even allowed myself to hope my dad would surprise me.  My Uncle Max would later tell me that he never wished he was my dad any more than at that moment.

I have known misplaced hope.

          I  am now the proud parent of a 25yr old.  Yep, as of November 27^th my “baby” boy is officially a quarter of a century old!  Not sure where the time went, but I am sure it did not go uncelebrated.  Since Steven was born on Thanksgiving Day, his birthday has always been on or near this special holiday.  It is easy to celebrate each year of his life with thanksgiving.  We had hoped to start our family.  The day we found he was expected was both a relief and terrifying. 

I have known Hope fulfilled.

          I often joke about being “hopeless” when it comes to certain things.  My husband could clearly argue that I am hopeless when it comes to retaining information that is in any way technical.  I have been described as hopeless when my daughter has attempts to increase my fashion sense.  Just today, my son was trying to help me throw out some clutter so, as he so kindly put it, “I would not end up on an episode of Hoarders.”  It is safe to say he too thinks I am a bit hopeless.

I have felt hopeless.

We are not strangers to hope.  Maybe this finds you celebrating a hope fulfilled or struggling with misplaced hope.  Perhaps this holiday season finds satan burdening you with feelings of hopelessness. 

WE ARE NOT WITHOUT HOPE!

          Today, as we celebrate the first day of advent and light the candle of HOPE, let us remember the hope for forgiveness and redemption His birth brought to us all.

We celebrate the birth of our Savior because it is through His birth, life, death and resurrection, we have the hope of forgiveness of our sins and eternity in heaven!

“But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for us appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing and regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, Whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, that by being justified by His grace we might be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.”  Titus 3:4-7

          This last week we went on a bit of an adventure.  My hubby and I took our boat, a 48ft Silverton called Miller Time(for our name not the beer), from Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina.  We rode her down through the Inner Coastal Waterway(the ICW).  The ICW runs the entire length of the East coast allowing boaters to navigate all the way to south Florida without needing to venture into the ocean.  We intend to travel to South Florida and the Bahamas in 2012, so we figured taking Miller time part way for the winter would be a good idea.  We will also be able to visit with our daughter, she is in college in Charleston.  I will be setting up a blog soon that will recount the days of this latest trip as well as journal the remainder of our journey to Bahamas in 2012.  I will post the link here when I get it set up.

          We have met some great folks along this leg of the journey and I can’t wait to tell you more about them.  We have also learned numerous valuable lessons.  At the start of our trip we had the fortune of being able to follow along with two other boats and their more experienced captains.  It was helpful to have someone leading the way.  The last two days of the trip, we were on our own.  No longer able to simply follow the crowd, we felt a surge of excitement and trepidation for what was ahead.  My diligent captain had everything planned and plotted and we were ready for the day’s challenges.  Most of the trip would be uneventful, the weather was perfect, the scenery breathtaking and only a bridge or two to fit under(more about bridges in the blog from the trip).  There was only one issue we felt a bit uneasy about, The Rock Pile.

          The ICW was literally cut into the earth by the Corp of Engineers.   The waterway varies in width and depth.  While it is surprisingly deep, there are places where it is narrow making single file passage a must.  Most of the ground around and below is a soft sand or clay.  Boats that venture beyond the marked channel may find themselves stuck.  The Rock Pile is not so kind.  For 5 miles the ICW is nothing but unforgiving rock boarding one of its more narrow passages.  We had been encouraged to proceed with caution and perhaps find a commercial boat or experienced captain to follow.

          As we approached the section we dreaded most, we could hear chatter on our VHF radio of other boats in the area.  Since so many boats are heading the same direction this time of year we often saw the same boats from time to time, or perhaps stayed at the same marina.  After a while you become familiar with your fellow ICW travelers.  We recognized the hailing call of one such boat, 70ft Lazarus(fancy boat) named Touch the Sun.  We knew the captain was experienced with the ICW.  We could tell from the radio chatter they were not far behind us.  We slowed and waited for them to catch up.   When we had them in sight we radioed them and requested to follow them through the Rock Pile.  “No problem captain,” came his response, “when I pass you, just get inside my wake and you will be fine.”

          Boats create wakes as they pass through water.  The bigger boat is, usually the larger the wake.  Speed and boat hull shape also effect wake size.  Wakes can be very dangerous.  Wakes flow out at angles from the boat’s bow creating waves that can damage shorelines, rock smaller boats or send sailboats into a chaotic roll.  Being outside the wake means you will most likely find yourself rocking and rolling over a rather large wave, but inside the wake(just behind the boat) it is calm.  Touch the Sun’s invite to fall into his wake was much appreciated.

          We had to keep up our speed to stay tight behind him.  The further we got into the Rock Pile the more grateful I was for their leadership.  Dark and menacing, the rocky ledge stretched out towards our boat like a mob of fans trying to touch a rock star.   The wake and waves created by Touch the Sun crashed against the shore and sprayed water in the air much like the waves on the rocky shores of the north Atlantic.   As long as we stayed tucked inside his wake, we knew we would not hit the rocks.  We knew that wherever they found safe passage we would also find safe passage.   When we finally got beyond the Rock Pile we breathed a sigh of relief.  The remainder of the trip held no greater anxiety and we comfortably found our way to the marina in Charleston.

          We are enjoying a relaxing morning here in South Carolina.  After getting up and underway at dawn for the last five days, it is nice to just sit and ease into the day.  As I think about all the lessons learned along the way here, I cannot stop dwelling on Touch the Sun’s captain’s reassuring radio transmission, “When I pass you, get inside my wake and you will be fine.”    We did, and we were.  It was not always easy to stay in his wake as my hubby/captain will attest, but knowing they had passed before us gave us the confidence to keep going and assurance that we would pass safely.

          Today we honor our veterans, many who have gone before us to create a safe passage for us.  I also think the numerous people God has placed in my life who have created a wake in which I can find confidence and assurance.  Our journeys may not always be easy, but today I am thanking God for all the wakes in which I now safely travel.

 Following a long list of God’s faithful in Hebrews 11, Hebrew 12:1 refers to some of those who have created wakes before us as a “cloud of witnesses”….

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

          I have a morning coffee routine that includes lots of splenda and creamer in my coffee in addition to a generous pile of Redi Whip floating atop my morning mug.  The other morning as I was fixing my coffee I realized I was out of Redi Whip and  grumbled enough for my hubby to notice.  “I forgot I ran out Redi Whip last night”.  “Oh” he said, “I was wondering why you put so little on my apple crisp.”    There was a bit of a dead silence as I tried to make sense of his comment.  What?!?!  Was I hearing correctly?  Did he just let me know he thought I did not give him enough on his dessert last might?    From his point of view, he saw a small portion of apple crisp and a miniscule dollop of Redi Whip topping and perhaps felt somewhat disappointed. 

           HERE is the reality:  When preparing him a bowl of apple crisp, left over from the night before, I realized there was only enough left for one serving…so I made it for HIM.  When I went to top it with whipped cream I discovered it too was running low, so…even though I knew it meant no special coffee in the morning, I emptied the contents onto his dessert.  Talk about LOVE…I would sacrifice Redi Whip for only the man I love( or maybe visiting family members, maybe).  I thought I had made quite a small sacrifice and munched on dry popcorn while he seemed to enjoy his special treat.  I had given him abundance, he didn’t notice.

          What I thought was a huge treat and special love offering, he saw as “nice” but not meeting his expectations.  After making certain he clearly understood “why” he had only a little of Redi Whip on his dessert, and hopefully instilling a little more appreciation for my efforts,  I began to feel a bit convicted myself.

          My dear hubby had no idea of what a special dessert he had been given, because he did not know about the sacrifice of the giver.  It is all too easy for us to forget what a wonderful life we have through the sacrifice of our God.  How often do I look at what God has done in my life or given me, and because I had a different expectation, I missed the true treasure He lovingly gave me.  I am not referring to financial gifts, but rather a prayer not answered as I had desired, a delayed response, or at times a path I was sent on when I had expected something different.  How often do we look at what is before us and because we cannot fathom the enormity of the grace with which all things are given, we miss the joy that comes with knowing the giver.  God gives us abundance, do we see it?

“Not that I speak from want; for I have learned to

be content in whatever circumstances I am.”

 Phil. 4:11

           A  Raggedy Ann doll,  a three-armed thing,  a giant foot(bloody stump of an ankle included), and of course the less than figure flattering stuffed pumpkin, these are just a few of the creative Halloween costumes my mom managed to make for me when I was growing up.  In fact, I do not recall ever going to the store to buy a manufactured costume.  I suppose that is why, when my own kids began to require Halloween costumes, I felt compelled to MAKE their costumes.

          I am sure my kids would have been THRILLED to have the normal costumes they saw in the stores, but that did not keep me from insisting on a good old homemade costume.  Unfortunately, I did not inherit my mom’s skills.  Following a pattern and sewing were out of the question.   I was pretty pleased with myself when I figured out I could transform my youngest into a mouse using a grey sweat suit, headband, felt, glue gun, safety pins and face paint.  My son morphed into a tiger with nothing more than an orange sweat suit painted with stripes, elaborate face paint and a safety pinned tail. 

         I had not planned it, but eventually most of my kid’s Halloween costumes were some variation of a sweat suit and fabric paint. 

Dalmatian puppy– white sweat suit painted with spots

 Wolf-black hooded sweat suit with ears pinned to hood and fancy face paint

Kitty Cat-black sweat suit, felt tail, headband with ears

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle– green sweat suit, felt, painted cardboard

You get the idea…

          Looking back, I am impressed with what good sports my kids were about it.  They stood beside their friends to pose for photos and never once asked me why the other costumes looked better than theirs did.  “Well, you see…Mathew and Kristin’s mommy knows how to sew and she used REAL fabric and REAL patterns and she spent A LOT more time on the costumes…someday your mommy may learn to sew too.”  I had my reply practiced, but knew it would not be truthful, I knew I was not likely to learn to sew.  I was glad they never asked. 

           I did it out of love.  Handmade costumes represented time and effort, which I knew to be valuable.  I wanted to give my kids time and effort, but I am not certain my costume making was entirely from a pure heart.  A closer look at past Halloweens reveals a secondary reason for my undertakings.  I wanted OTHER moms to see that I cared enough to MAKE my kids costumes.  I do not recall actually thinking that at the time, but if I am honest with myself, I can see it was an incentive.  Even when my kids wanted nothing more than a plastic mask held in place by a thin strip of elastic, I insisted on one of our sweat suit creations. 

          At some point, it stopped being about what made them happy and more about not looking like a mom who did not invest time and effort.  Yep, in trying to make costumes so my kids could pretend they were something they are not for Halloween, I was pretending to be something I was not.

          I heard a friend of mine give a devotion recently in which she talked about masks.  Her words struck my heart as she spoke of how often we place on a mask.  I was convicted about how often I pretend to be something I am not.  I have used masks many times.  Saying we are okay when someone asks, when in reality we are not and smiling when we do not really feel happy are just two examples of masks we tend to wear.  Sometimes we put on a mask and cape and secretly hope no one notices that below the “super mommy/daddy” or “super husband/wife” costume is a worn, discouraged, thirsty soul.   If we do not learn to put our masks aside, how will others know our need, and how, when God brings us through a trial, will others be able to see His good works and glorify Him?

          The memory of all those sweat suit costumes makes me smile, but it also reminds me how important it is to let others see us, not as we wish they would, but as we know we are…for it is in this way our God can best be seen and glorified.

          Paul could have put on a mask so others did not know he was physically weak, but instead he shared God’s response to his struggle.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness” Most gladly therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.  Therefore, I am well contented with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. 

(2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

          There I was, innocently watching a silly sitcom on television, when all of the sudden one of the characters spouts a  line that not only causes a lilt of laughter, but also sets the path for God to remind me of something He is forever teaching me.

          One of the characters was anxiously trying not to take sides when two of his friends were in a disagreement.. He was trying to avoid conflict. His character worked hard to keep both friends happy and unaware he was seeing them both.  While this did  lead to lots of comedic moments, the poor guy was overwhelmed with anxiety.   He finally admitted to one he was spending time with the other friend.   The response he received was both a relief and a surprise. It did not matter to him if he spent time with the other friend.  That is when he said it, the thing that stuck in my head long after the show’s laugh track subsided…. “Well, looks like we slaughtered a pig and no one wanted bacon!” at which point he simply turned and walked away as if all was well.

          “Looks like we slaughtered a pig and no one wanted bacon!”  

 I love this phrase.  This is a great visual for the wastefulness of our effort sometimes.   We can create a mess of things when it is not necessary.  I can easily recall spending time and energy fretting over things I had little control over, only to later realize my anxiety was in vain.  I cannot count the times I attempted to resolve a personal problem on my own and later regretted not letting God lead me.  I would love to have back the hours I wasted on worry.  I have done a lot of “pig slaughtering” only to find there was no need, no one wanted “bacon”. 

          The next day, as I sat in church, this same phrase swept through my mind as I found myself reading  Matthew 6:34 “Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.”     Is my anxiety little more than slaughtering pigs when no bacon is needed?  It did not take long for the words of my mom to echo in my heart as well…for as long as I can remember she has quoted Phil 4:6&7 to me, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and mind in Christ Jesus.”    Today I am reassessing my slaughterhouse.   May we all be challenged once more to lay down the burden and fruitlessness of anxiety, and resisit the urge to “slaughter a pig when no one wants bacon”!