Not Just a Pretty Face

I was floored last week to barely recognize a well known actress from a 70s sitcom as she loomed large on my TV screen. I rarely watch TV, but being it's the Christmas season, my daughter insisted that we catch a few of the Hallmark Hall of Fame cheesy holiday movies.

I had to double check the credits as this particular actress caught my eye. She slightly resembled her younger famous self, but she hadn't aged well at all. It sure got my attention. And made me sad in a way. I guess partly because I've been thinking a lot about appearance lately as I've been working on a chapter about outer beauty for my new book, More Beauty, Less Beast.

I have to admit the damage done by the ravages of time made me pity her.

And then today as I was filling my gas tank, I studied my reflection in my car's side window and suddenly identified with that poor actress. How often do we really look at ourselves? For me, it's just a casual glance in a mirror a few times a day to make sure I don't have spinach between my teeth or my hair isn't sticking out like a scarecrow. But there in the glaring light of day reflected in my window, every single wrinkle, ugly pore, blemish, and saggy jowel showed up loud and clear.

Was that really ME? It didn't look like the me in my head - the self-image I've had of me for the past decade.

It was eye-opening to say the least.

I was immensely thankful that I don't have to make my living by my appearance. How draining it must be to have to be beautiful all the time. Certainly there are those who do it and have done it well for decade after decade; Christy Brinkley, Rachel Welch, and Sophia Loren come to mind. Timeless beauties, by anyone's standards.

But what is beauty by God's standards?

That's precisely what I intend to find out. That intangible, indescribable, radiant beauty that shines from within - we've all known people who had it. People who don't necessarily posess society's standards of physical beauty, but leave us basking in their beauty nonetheless.

As I journey through life, never knowing what surprises (or wrinkles or bags) the next bend in the road will bring, I want to know that I will always be beautiful to my Father. The only one who counts.

Let's Party!

After 40 years of reading the Bible cover to cover, I discovered something I never knew yesterday while perusing the book of Exodus. But then again, maybe I'm the only one in the world who wasn't clued in.

Did you know that Moses wasn't the only one (besides Adam and Eve) to actually see God face to face and live to tell about it? In fact, did you realize that God threw a party for a hand-picked bunch in His mountain hide-away and hung out with them while they chowed down?

No? Well I'm glad I'm not alone in my duh-ment. I fear that many of the times I've waded through some of the heavier Old Testament books like Exodus , Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, I was either half asleep or brain-fried enough that what I was reading didn't register. Happily, this time it did and I feel oh, so enlightened.

In Exodus 24:9-11, it's recorded that while the Children of Israel had recently left Egypt and were just getting started in their wilderness adventure, 74 Hebrew leaders were invited up to Mt. Sinai where "they saw the God of Israel" and "they shared a meal together in God's presence!" (New Living Translation)

Is that not cool? Can you imagine being invited up to God's place and being served manna appetizers while the Master of all Creation and God of the Universe hangs out with you?

I must admit it makes my imagination run wild just considering what the party chatter must have been like:

"So, Lord, what does your agenda look like for the next 40 years?"

"Hey Moses, did you try the quail wings? The secret's in the sauce!"

"Do want us to stay and wash dishes, Yahweh? Good help is so hard to find these days."

No disrespect is intended, of course - I just like to insert myself in these amazing biblical scenarios to see what it could have actually felt like. Guess that's the actress in me.

Nevertheless, I think that's really something that God loves His children so very much that He intentionally seeks our company - He wants to spend time with us. Do we, on the other hand, give Him the same consideration?

How many times have I closed my Bible after 4 verses because I'm tired and would rather go to sleep? Or left a prayer unfinished because I got sidetracked by other important claims on my time? Or had a whole list of good intentions to perform in His name that just somehow never made it to fruition?

Hmm. Maybe it's time to rethink my priorities. Maybe I can still make the invitation list to the Almighty's next shindig.

Oy! Coty Meets Coyote

I had heard rumors of missing cats in our semi-rural neighborhood, and even a blood and guts description of, well, the blood and gut remains one neighbor found of her cat one foggy morning. There were several accounts of coyote sightings caught in headlights during the wee hours of the night.

And then this morning, I had my very own close encounter.

I was walking my dog down our quiet neighbohood street just after sun-up when we were both startled by a large critter emerging from between two houses about 20 yards in front of us. My ferocious miniature poodle went ballistic but the beast only nonchalantly glanced our way, never even breaking stride. He wasn't exactly loping, but walked at a right smart clip as he crossed the street and disappeared between two houses on the other side of the road as if on a mission.

He ignored us like we weren't even there.

I understand urban coyotes are more common in Florida than most people realize. And by the time you see one, you're probably infestated. They're cunningly adaptable and surprisingly agile. This one had the coloring and height of a German Shepherd but was more gangly, thin and scruffy. He definitely had a wild look about  him.

I actually enjoy observing wildlife, which is why I moved to this 200-home subdivision on the cusp of town and country. It brings joy to my heart to see the array of sandhill cranes, iris', red-tailed hawks, owls, silver foxes, racoons, bunnies, possums, and even the occasional alligator traipsing down the middle of the road on a trek between the ponds flanking the neighborhood.

But I must say this encounter didn't bring me the least bit of joy. I'd say heart palpitations is more like it. I've read that coyotes consume just about anything - garbage, dog food, berries, roadkill, eggs, small pets and any kind or varment they can run down. And they've been known to breed with female dogs when one is handy, producing a "coy-dog," which can never be fully domesticated.

So what's an urban animal lover to do? Take the good with the bad and just get over it? Or buy a pellet gun and start packing? What's your opinion?

Trapping the Weasel

Fear is a covert weasel that can sneak in under the wire and wreak havoc in our feelings and decisions without us even being aware of the wily little beast.

I've never been more aware of this fact than last week when my daughter asked me to accompany her and her husband to their 12-week sonogram. To my surprise, my first impulse was to shout "NO!" and run the other way. But I didn't. Carefully keeping my expression neutral, I saw the excitement and joy radiating from her eyes about this momentous occasion, her first baby, and knew it was a precious honor she was offering me and I should accept graciously.

But my gut reaction puzzled me. What was so frightening to me?

As I considered this perplexing question, a decade faded away like early morning fog and I was transported back to a tiny sterile cubical at a long-forgotten OB office. It was my own 12-week sonogram visit and I was thrilled, despite my daily bouts of nausea, to be expecting our third child at age 42 after five devastating miscarriages. Our two teenagers had been supportive and everything seemed to be going fine. I was already in maternity clothes. I'd asked my mother to come with me, since she had never seen this new technology - sonography - and we giggled like school girls in anticipation as we entered the little office.

Then, the technician began searching with the probe, and I watched her friendly smile disappear as she kept moving the wand around and around. She suddenly turned off the screen and abruptly left the room, stating, "The doctor will be in to see you momentarily."

My mother's face melted. It was only then that I suspected something was wrong. Dark, hollow dread began in the pit of my stomach and snaked outward to fill my chest cavity and my head as the doctor came in to explain my lifeless womb.

I had grieved over the years, sure, but some losses are bured so deep they never really go away. They just get planted over.

And so, as history seemed to be repeating itself, I nervously crowded with my daughter and her husband into another tiny examining room, and found my heart in my throat as the technician pulled out the ultrasound probe.

I had prayed incessantly about this moment, and given my fear repeatedly to Papa God, but tentacles of that wretched, weaselly creature wrapped around the soft vulnerability of my mother-love and squeeze the very life away.

Please, Father. Please let this baby be okay. Please.  

Suddenly, a tiny beating heart filled the screen and little arms flailed around a safe, warm womb housing a living, thriving, miraculous baby.

Tears filled my eyes - as they do even now - in grateful relief and joy for God's amazing grace that conquers fear.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7, NKJ).

Meet my future daughter-in-law!



 My son is engaged! Matthew popped the question to his beautiful Rebecca at our Smoky Mt. cabin last week. No date yet but we'll keep you posted!

The Party's Over

Just got back from a wonderful, relaxing week in the Smokies where Spouse and I saw no less than 7 deer, 2 foxes, a gazillion chipmonks (a rare treat for us Floridians) and a few elderly squirrels. Not exactly like this one - most used canes instead of walkers.

As an extra treat, we had about 2 inches of snow the last few days, which was a mixed blessing. It was great fun to romp in winter wonderland until it came time to pack up and go home Sunday morning.

We arose at 5:30 am to 20 degrees and frozen everything: pipes, screws, spigets (is that how you spell that?), even the hose we needed to drain the hot water heater was frozen stiff and filled with ice. Poor Spouse had to soak it in a bathtub of hot water to get it to loosen up enough to to run water through. What a mess!

But we were finally on the road by 7:30 am, just in time to hit a huge traffic back-up just south of Atlanta. Grrr. Three lanes funneled down to one for 12 miles for construction, which consisted of ten guys standing around watching one guy break up pavement with a jack hammer.

The hour delay was tolerable but barely. At least we had plenty of apples I'd picked from a tree up our mountain, and of course chocolate covered you-name-it (oreos, Nutter Butters, pretzels, etc ad nauseum) from our favorite chocolate shoppe in Highlands.

So now we're home and back to work with nothing but memories of frosty mornings, snowball fights.and geriatric rodents.  

A little spiritual refreshment

Enjoying a girls day at the beach for fun, food and Bible Study with my spiritual sisters a few weeks ago.

Okay, back to my series of Scripture meditations from my personal spiritual retreat. This one is from Zephaniah 3:17, CEV: The Lord your God wins victory after victory and is always with you. He clebrates and sings because of you, and he will refresh your life with his love.  

1. He celebrates and sings because of me; with deep love, joy and appreciation especially and singularly because of ... me! Wow! How incredible!

2. He wins all the victories of my life that I'll allow him to fight. So why don't I give ALL of them over to Him?

3. He's always with us. Always. I think there are three levels of His presence:
   Level 1: He surrounds us with evidence of His presence/love through nature and blessings.
   Level 2: We have a personal audience with Him, His undivided attentioin.
   Level 3: We're in Him and he in us, melded together, the vine and the branches. We're extensions of His    heart, spirit, and thoughts. He resides in us.

I aspire to the third level, but in reality, I think I spend most of my everyday awareness moments on the first level with occasional toe-dips into the second level.

4. He will refresh my life with His love. Refresh: renew, reinvigorate, animate, exhilerate, rouse, stimulate, revive, new start, renovate, reawaken, rebuild, re-do, restore, replenish. Do I need this? YES!!!

5. I am special to  Him - His beloved little girl. He loves me unconditionally, the way I love my beloved little girl.

If You Can't Fix it, Decorate it!

I didn't know the neighbor at the far end of my walking route, but I felt badly for them. One night during the sweltering summer months, someone had backed into their brick mailbox stand, toppling the top half of the four-foot-high monument adorning their front yard.

Apparently too heavy to remount, the beheaded portion stood akilter alongside its base, jagged edges exposed in a pathetic silent plea: Fix me! 

I could just picture Mrs. Homeowner helpfully reminding (some call it nagging) the little mister every day to "Do something with that mailbox, dear," and him replying, "Just what do you suggest I do with 300-lbs of broken mortor and brick, dearest?" 

So there sat the unsightly mound of brokenness, day after day, month after month. Finally, October rolled around and I couldn't help but smile as I rounded the corner on my morning walk to find their marvelous solution. Someone (I assume the creative missus) had strung fake Halloween spiderwebs all over both halves and decorated it in classic Adams Family motiff.

It actually looked terrific! Like a larger version of the vase of rose stems Morticia had carefully de-budded.

I couldn't help but be reminded of all the broken, bulky, unfixable things in our lives. They sit there day after day, year after year, hulking reminders of our inadequacy as we glare at them, grouse about them, but don't actually do anything to fix them. Maybe we can't. Maybe we just plain won't. But whatever the reason, they remain a constant source of irritation and embarrassment.

Yet here was a delightful effort to make the best of the worst, to salvage a little dignity and humor from among the ruins. An object lesson from which we could all benefit.

If you can't fix it, decorate it! 

His Voice

This is the second of a series on my meditations of scripture during a recent personal retreat.

Today's passage: 1 Kings 19:11-12: The still, small voice of God.

1. "Go stand on the mountain" was a command to take action; GO! Stand alone, exposed and vulnerable; wait on the Lord to come to you. You're in His presence on the mountain. Likewise, I'm in God's presence when I climb the mountain he sets before me.

2. The great and powerful wind came before the Lord came. It seemed to shatter Elijah's whole world but he stood firm and waited. He didn't run from the wind, earthquake, or fire, but stayed right there on that mountain ledge, exposed. Do I have the courage to wait through the turmoil?

3. Elijah recognized God's genetle whisper immediately. He knew it wasn't the same as the hubbub that came before. Do I hear God's voice enough to recognize it? Even through the noise of everyday?

4. God told Elijah to go to the mountain in the third person - why? If He was giving Elijah instructions, he must have already been there. So was this His physical presence? No - it was his spiritual presence. God is always here; He sometimes takes his presence to another level. A deeper, more personal level.

5. The huge display of elements was to show Elijah God's power - then He brought it home with the whisper: "Elijah, I am here." (my interpretation). Elijah, who was unmoved by the big show, crumbled and covered his head at God's voice. He ran back to his cave. I, too, often run back to my cave.

6. Elijah was told to go out and leave the cave in which he was hiding. Papa God tells me that, too. But I like my cave. It feels safe. If I go stand out on the mountain, exposed, I can be shot down. But I must leave my cave if I want to experience God's presence in a deeper way.

The Best Gift is a Sacrifice

This post is the first of a series sharing insights that I encountered about various scriptures on a personal spiritual retreat I enjoyed this summer while all alone for a week in our remote Smoky Mt. cabin. (If you've never invested yourself in a spiritual retreat, I HIGHLY recommend it!)

My technique was to take one passage per day, study it in numerous translations and Bible commentaries, learn the passage's background, read surrounding chapters, read the verses aloud frequently during the day, and meditate on that portion of God's Word during long prayer walks along winding mountain trails, opening my heart and mind to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

First passage: Exodus 35: 20-22 - Moses leads the displaced Israelites in building a place of worship in the desert

1. Background verse 5: Everyone is invited (not commanded) to give what they have to the Lord as an offering (for the tabernacle). An offering is a voluntary gift, not expected or demanded. The most appreciated gift is sacrificial, something that costs the giver.

2. Their very best was desired (v. 5-9) but not required. They could get by (without penalty) with giving little or even nothing. So can I.

3. Is my heart stirred (v. 20)? Do I desire to give my best as an offering to my Papa God? Am I truly willing to give my time, gifts and abilities with no expectations or strings attached (v. 22)?

4. Gifts must be prepared in private (at home) to get the final offering perfect and ready to present to Him on the altar of my life - like practicing my speeches, agonizing over words in books, responding to readers as they share heartfelt needs with me. Effort is required to prepare and (v. 21) bring/carry/pursue publication in His name.

5. "The Message" translation: everyone "whose spirit was freely responsive" was desired by God to participate.

6. Their gifts/offerings cost them something dear. They didn't have much; they had been slaves in Egypt and left with only what they could carry. The broaches, jewelry and linens they gave were precious to them (v. 22-23).

Are the gifts I'm willing to give to the Lord's work precious to me? Are they a sacrificial offering or merely the leftovers of my best efforts directed elsewhere?