I read an article today about a little girl in New York. Apparently, the great state of New York has decided to take upon it's self the burden of being the Obesity Police. They are apparently weighing and measuring little children (how often, I don't know) and then periodically sending home "Fitnessgrams" to the parents. They tell the children not to read them, but when you are a kid, you just got to peek. This little girl came home quite upset. She had read hers, you see. She gave it to her mother to read whereupon her mother discovered that her child was (drum roll please) ONE POUND OVER THE AVERAGE WEIGHT FOR A CHILD HER HEIGHT AND AGE. This is a 4-foot, 1-inch, 66 pound third grader. Her mother was outraged. Understandably so. Later that evening, she saw her sweet little third grader staring at herself in the mirror and "pinching the inch" around her middle, tearfully asking her mother if this was what they were talking about. Heartbreaking, isn't it?
I was outraged, as well. I have always had a "weight problem". I was always a little bit bigger than the other girls in my class. I do know (based on the pictures of me at that time) I was fairly hefty when I was a third grader. Not sure why my weight went up so much then, but it did. However, looking back at pictures of myself growing up, I really wasn't so big. I know I felt ginormous. Especially next to all my skinny, petite little friends. I was constantly on a diet. I had and still have a bad body image. I often wonder if I had never dieted in my life, would I have gained as much weight as I have in my adult life? There is no way to know, I guess. Anywho, I digress.
All of this got me to thinking, you see. Almost everyone has an issue with something about themselves. Too tall. Too short. Crooked teeth. Thin hair. Thick hair. Big feet. Insert your body peeve here. All of these things add up to this: How can anyone love me? I'm not pretty (or handsome) enough. I'll never be anything worth while.
Ok. Lean in, kiddies. I'm gonna share something with you that is very rarely discussed in church. Now, I know most of you have heard of God's plan of salvation. You know. The one where His only Son took on the sins of the world from the beginning of time to the end of time, died, was resurrected and overcame sin and death once and for all. Well, there is another plan. This one belongs to the enemy and it is called the plan of destruction. This enemy wants all of us to find ourselves unworthy of great love. He wants us to doubt that we can be salvaged and redeemed. Repurposed, to use the most current vernacular. He wants us to think if we can only get rid of those few extra pesky pounds, straighten our teeth, and get rid of all our wrinkles, we will be worth saving. Here's the catch. The enemy keeps upping the stakes. Through media, celebrity, and now the guise of concern for a child's physical health, he keeps setting the bar higher and impossibly higher. We will never, ever be able to reach it.
On the other hand, God's plan is quite simple: Come just as you are. Believe that Jesus died for you. Accept His gift of salvation. That's really all there is to it, friends and neighbors. Once you do that, you will see how much you are loved. As further proof, I offer the two verses in the title.
Now, go enjoy your Sabbath day. You are loved just as you are. You are beautiful just as you are.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Divine Lunacy: The Next Chapter
Today, I have been cleaning out my old car. I'm giving it to some friends of mine that want a little run-around car that gets good gas mileage. I still need to vacuum it out, but after that, I will be relinquishing ownership. Am I sad to see it go? Surprisingly, no. Although...I must admit to a small twinge of nostalgia, lightly colored with sadness that it will no longer be my car. Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, I didn't have a car or a driver's license. I rode public transportation to and from work and got rides with others for groceries and such. I wasn't interested in the added expense of a vehicle or renewing a driver's license every four years, either. Also, I lost my license due to unpaid parking tickets in LaLa Land, California. Every so often, my Mom would bug me about getting my license. I would always turn a deaf ear. I didn't want one and I wasn't going to get one.
Finally, in the year of our Lord, 2000, I could no longer tune Mom's litany of "You really should get your license...When are you going to get your license...You really ought to have your license." out. To shut her up (hopefully), I said I wanted to start with getting my learner's permit. After all, I reasoned, I hadn't been behind the wheel of a car for a long time. I needed to practice because I would probably be required to take a "behind the wheel" test to get my driver's license. We went to the DMV the next Monday that I had off so I could take the written test to get that learner's permit. I didn't tell Mom, but I had not studied the hand book that she had given me. I didn't even riffle through the pages. I figured I would take the test and fail and that would be it for a month or three. Ha, ha! The joke was on me. I answered the questions, most of which I remembered from years before. I passed the test. I was even in the mid 90 percentile. Holy drive shaft, Batman! I left the DMV with a learner's permit and Mom handed over the keys. The interesting thing was, I had forgotten how much I really like to drive. Once I got behind the wheel and got going, it all came back. Just about a month later, I was at the DMV taking the driving test and getting my bona fide driving license. Ok. I had the license. Now what?
Again, on a Monday I had off, Mom loaned me her Chevy Tahoe. After dropping her off at work, I went home and grabbed some of my CDs and then I set about to do some errands. I was at the light on Lindell at Sahara when I looked to my left and say a marquee on the Budget Rental Car Sales lot. They had cars for $88.00 down. I could do that. I had $88.00. I went to the lot, test drove my future car, and got my Dad involved. He had to secure the loan for me. My credit was so tanked, I couldn't even co-sign for the loan. By the end of the day, I was the owner of a Ticket Me Red 2000 Chevy Cavalier LS.
Not long after that, I got an invitation to my 25 year high school reunion at Rio Lindo Adventist Academy. My Mom began a campaign to get me to go. Finally, I let her book a motel room for me in Santa Rosa, California. (I spent the first night in Tulare with my cousins, Dawn and her daughter, Tiffany.) I did that to shut her up. When will I ever learn? Dad gave me one of his gas charge cards to use so that I wouldn't run out of money filling up on gas. I had to pay him back for what ever I charged, though. (I have since learned that he never cashed the check I gave him for the gas.) I was so excited. My first road trip in years!
I checked into my motel room in Santa Rosa, you know, the one that keeps the light burning. I showered and changed and set about finding a place to eat. I settled on a Chinese place I found in Coddington Mall. With butterflies in my stomach (and a fair amount of lemon chicken and fried rice), I drove into Healdsburg and up the hill to Rio. I went early because I wanted to walk around the campus. It had been over 20 years since I had roamed this beautiful school and I wanted to see what had changed and what had stayed the same. My first stop was going to be the Admin Building. It houses the Principal's office, the library, the auditorium, and a few classrooms. It also has large, framed photographs of each graduating class. I wanted to look at my graduating class' photos; see if ours was still hanging on the wall. I walked up to the building and was suddenly inundated with memories from my time at Rio. By the time I reached the front doors (they were locked), the tears were flowing fast and furious. You see, my life hadn't gone according to plan. I was going to find myself a nice SDA man to marry, have a few kids, and live contentedly going to church, potlucks, church socials, and other church related activities thereby assuring my salvation and place in Heaven. That did not happen. Instead, I met a young man (SDA) that broke me heart and left me without so much as a backward glance. I got mad at God and at the church, made sure the doors didn't hit me in the hinder on the way out, and proceeded to leave behind everything I knew to be right and true. My motto was: Lead me not into temptation...just point me in the right direction and I'll do the rest.
But not that day. That day, standing at the front door of the Admin Building with tears streaming down my face was different. I heard God speak. Very clearly. I will never forget what He said to me: "I miss you. And I want you back." I gave myself to Him right then and there. I had a lot to learn and a way to go, but me wheels were finally on the right path.
I have had my share of back sliding, trials, and general troubles. Each has served a purpose. To help me rely on, lean on, and trust in the Great I Am. Each step in this story was leading me to a better way. So, yeah. Maybe I'm a little sad to let this car go to it's new home. After all, it was the one that drove me into my Father's waiting arms. I'll tell you something else. I'm looking forward to the next chapter of road trips in my new SUV. God always surprises, but that's ok. I've got a full tank.
Once upon a time, I didn't have a car or a driver's license. I rode public transportation to and from work and got rides with others for groceries and such. I wasn't interested in the added expense of a vehicle or renewing a driver's license every four years, either. Also, I lost my license due to unpaid parking tickets in LaLa Land, California. Every so often, my Mom would bug me about getting my license. I would always turn a deaf ear. I didn't want one and I wasn't going to get one.
Finally, in the year of our Lord, 2000, I could no longer tune Mom's litany of "You really should get your license...When are you going to get your license...You really ought to have your license." out. To shut her up (hopefully), I said I wanted to start with getting my learner's permit. After all, I reasoned, I hadn't been behind the wheel of a car for a long time. I needed to practice because I would probably be required to take a "behind the wheel" test to get my driver's license. We went to the DMV the next Monday that I had off so I could take the written test to get that learner's permit. I didn't tell Mom, but I had not studied the hand book that she had given me. I didn't even riffle through the pages. I figured I would take the test and fail and that would be it for a month or three. Ha, ha! The joke was on me. I answered the questions, most of which I remembered from years before. I passed the test. I was even in the mid 90 percentile. Holy drive shaft, Batman! I left the DMV with a learner's permit and Mom handed over the keys. The interesting thing was, I had forgotten how much I really like to drive. Once I got behind the wheel and got going, it all came back. Just about a month later, I was at the DMV taking the driving test and getting my bona fide driving license. Ok. I had the license. Now what?
Again, on a Monday I had off, Mom loaned me her Chevy Tahoe. After dropping her off at work, I went home and grabbed some of my CDs and then I set about to do some errands. I was at the light on Lindell at Sahara when I looked to my left and say a marquee on the Budget Rental Car Sales lot. They had cars for $88.00 down. I could do that. I had $88.00. I went to the lot, test drove my future car, and got my Dad involved. He had to secure the loan for me. My credit was so tanked, I couldn't even co-sign for the loan. By the end of the day, I was the owner of a Ticket Me Red 2000 Chevy Cavalier LS.
Not long after that, I got an invitation to my 25 year high school reunion at Rio Lindo Adventist Academy. My Mom began a campaign to get me to go. Finally, I let her book a motel room for me in Santa Rosa, California. (I spent the first night in Tulare with my cousins, Dawn and her daughter, Tiffany.) I did that to shut her up. When will I ever learn? Dad gave me one of his gas charge cards to use so that I wouldn't run out of money filling up on gas. I had to pay him back for what ever I charged, though. (I have since learned that he never cashed the check I gave him for the gas.) I was so excited. My first road trip in years!
I checked into my motel room in Santa Rosa, you know, the one that keeps the light burning. I showered and changed and set about finding a place to eat. I settled on a Chinese place I found in Coddington Mall. With butterflies in my stomach (and a fair amount of lemon chicken and fried rice), I drove into Healdsburg and up the hill to Rio. I went early because I wanted to walk around the campus. It had been over 20 years since I had roamed this beautiful school and I wanted to see what had changed and what had stayed the same. My first stop was going to be the Admin Building. It houses the Principal's office, the library, the auditorium, and a few classrooms. It also has large, framed photographs of each graduating class. I wanted to look at my graduating class' photos; see if ours was still hanging on the wall. I walked up to the building and was suddenly inundated with memories from my time at Rio. By the time I reached the front doors (they were locked), the tears were flowing fast and furious. You see, my life hadn't gone according to plan. I was going to find myself a nice SDA man to marry, have a few kids, and live contentedly going to church, potlucks, church socials, and other church related activities thereby assuring my salvation and place in Heaven. That did not happen. Instead, I met a young man (SDA) that broke me heart and left me without so much as a backward glance. I got mad at God and at the church, made sure the doors didn't hit me in the hinder on the way out, and proceeded to leave behind everything I knew to be right and true. My motto was: Lead me not into temptation...just point me in the right direction and I'll do the rest.
But not that day. That day, standing at the front door of the Admin Building with tears streaming down my face was different. I heard God speak. Very clearly. I will never forget what He said to me: "I miss you. And I want you back." I gave myself to Him right then and there. I had a lot to learn and a way to go, but me wheels were finally on the right path.
I have had my share of back sliding, trials, and general troubles. Each has served a purpose. To help me rely on, lean on, and trust in the Great I Am. Each step in this story was leading me to a better way. So, yeah. Maybe I'm a little sad to let this car go to it's new home. After all, it was the one that drove me into my Father's waiting arms. I'll tell you something else. I'm looking forward to the next chapter of road trips in my new SUV. God always surprises, but that's ok. I've got a full tank.
Divine Lunacy Wept...
My Dad has Stage 4 Cancer. He was diagnosed the first week of December, 2009, after living two years with pain. His local doctor couldn't figure out what the problem was; what was causing the pain. My Dad went to a clinic in California for a "soup to nuts" check up. That is when he found out he had cancer. Before he went to the oncologist, my Dad had a CT-scan and they discovered a node on his lung, as well. A needle biopsy was done to determine if it was a second primary site or if it was part of the original cancer (metastisized). Unfortunately, it was the latter. That put him into the Stage 4 catagory.
When Mom called to give me the results of his check up, I was stunned. I remember sitting in my car in the garage and crying my eyes out. I was so angry at God and I was so scared for my Dad. And for my Mom. I remember yelling at God, "WHY?!?" in one breath and then begging "PLEASE, don't take my Daddy!" in the next. For most of the month of December, I went back and forth. One moment being really angry at God; the next begging for his life. God had never felt so far away or remote to me in all my life.
The day after Christmas, I was sitting in our worship service at church. Chelle Reed played the violin as a prelude to the service. Such beautiful music. Very calming; very uplifting. I don't really remember word for word what the serman was, but I remember the point of it: Let go and let God. The message really struck a chord deep inside me. I stopped wrestling with God over my Dad. I put him in the hands of the One that loves my Dad beyond all reason.
Dad started his chemo in January of 2010. He did pretty good on it for the first couple of weeks, but pretty soon the toxins began to build up in his system and he got sicker. It was difficult watching him go through that. My Dad has always been so healthy. Before the cancer, I could count on one hand the number of times that my Dad has been sick and have fingers left over. Seeing him that way was hard. Watching my Mom deal with it was hard, too. Mom and Dad just celebrated 55 years of marriage earlier this month.
There is a particularly poignant picture in my mind from during that time. My brother and his family came just about every other weekend during Dad's treatments. One such weekend, I was sitting at the dining room table with my Mom, Sister, Sister-in-Love, and my niece and nephew. I looked into the living room and I will never forget what I saw. It was such a bittersweet and heartwrenching moment. My Dad was asleep in his recliner with a blanket pulled up to his chin; my brother was sitting on the couch just looking at Dad. Looking as if to memorize every line, every freckle, every detail of Dad's face. It broke my heart it was so beautiful.
Dad had surgery twice and came out both times like a champ. The lump in his lung remained fairly consistant, not growing very much at all over the next couple of years. A few months ago, he began a natural chemo for the lump in his lung; again doing pretty good and then getting weak and sick from the toxic build-up. And then, he developed a headache last week end that wouldn't go away. It was bad enough that it knocked him off his feet and he spent the weekend in bed.
Thursday, my Mom took him to the ER per his doctor's orders. He was admitted after they did a CT-scan showing a lesion on his brain, on the back, right side. This morning they did an MRI to determine whether it was benign or not. The results were not good. It is a further metastization of the cancer or as the doctor put it a progression of the disease. In a few hours time, we will be back at the hospital with a second oncologist to figure out what course of action is best. Well, Dad will decide.
And here is the truly amazing thing: My Dad, who wouldn't say crap if he had a mouthful, wants to use whatever time he has left to be a mentor to others that are going through what he has been through. He wants to help them not be so afraid; to know that they are not alone; to know that they will get through it no matter what.
I've cried many times over the last few days. Even now the tears threaten. I know it's ok for me to cry. It's ok for me to just lay my head on my Father's chest and weep. Because I love a God that can take whatever this world dishes out; I serve a God that holds me up. He will see my Dad and my family through this and we will be stronger, no matter what the outcome.
There is a song by Kathy Troccoli called "My Life Is In Your Hands". The chorus goes like this:
My life is in Your hands/My heart is in Your keeping/I'm never without hope/not when my future is with You/My life is in Your hands/And though I may not see clearly/I will lift my voice and sing/'Cause Your love does amazing things/Lord I know, my life is in Your hands.
So I will keep singing. I will sing through the pain; through the tears. I will sing to honor my earthly Daddy and my Heavenly Daddy.
When Mom called to give me the results of his check up, I was stunned. I remember sitting in my car in the garage and crying my eyes out. I was so angry at God and I was so scared for my Dad. And for my Mom. I remember yelling at God, "WHY?!?" in one breath and then begging "PLEASE, don't take my Daddy!" in the next. For most of the month of December, I went back and forth. One moment being really angry at God; the next begging for his life. God had never felt so far away or remote to me in all my life.
The day after Christmas, I was sitting in our worship service at church. Chelle Reed played the violin as a prelude to the service. Such beautiful music. Very calming; very uplifting. I don't really remember word for word what the serman was, but I remember the point of it: Let go and let God. The message really struck a chord deep inside me. I stopped wrestling with God over my Dad. I put him in the hands of the One that loves my Dad beyond all reason.
Dad started his chemo in January of 2010. He did pretty good on it for the first couple of weeks, but pretty soon the toxins began to build up in his system and he got sicker. It was difficult watching him go through that. My Dad has always been so healthy. Before the cancer, I could count on one hand the number of times that my Dad has been sick and have fingers left over. Seeing him that way was hard. Watching my Mom deal with it was hard, too. Mom and Dad just celebrated 55 years of marriage earlier this month.
There is a particularly poignant picture in my mind from during that time. My brother and his family came just about every other weekend during Dad's treatments. One such weekend, I was sitting at the dining room table with my Mom, Sister, Sister-in-Love, and my niece and nephew. I looked into the living room and I will never forget what I saw. It was such a bittersweet and heartwrenching moment. My Dad was asleep in his recliner with a blanket pulled up to his chin; my brother was sitting on the couch just looking at Dad. Looking as if to memorize every line, every freckle, every detail of Dad's face. It broke my heart it was so beautiful.
Dad had surgery twice and came out both times like a champ. The lump in his lung remained fairly consistant, not growing very much at all over the next couple of years. A few months ago, he began a natural chemo for the lump in his lung; again doing pretty good and then getting weak and sick from the toxic build-up. And then, he developed a headache last week end that wouldn't go away. It was bad enough that it knocked him off his feet and he spent the weekend in bed.
Thursday, my Mom took him to the ER per his doctor's orders. He was admitted after they did a CT-scan showing a lesion on his brain, on the back, right side. This morning they did an MRI to determine whether it was benign or not. The results were not good. It is a further metastization of the cancer or as the doctor put it a progression of the disease. In a few hours time, we will be back at the hospital with a second oncologist to figure out what course of action is best. Well, Dad will decide.
And here is the truly amazing thing: My Dad, who wouldn't say crap if he had a mouthful, wants to use whatever time he has left to be a mentor to others that are going through what he has been through. He wants to help them not be so afraid; to know that they are not alone; to know that they will get through it no matter what.
I've cried many times over the last few days. Even now the tears threaten. I know it's ok for me to cry. It's ok for me to just lay my head on my Father's chest and weep. Because I love a God that can take whatever this world dishes out; I serve a God that holds me up. He will see my Dad and my family through this and we will be stronger, no matter what the outcome.
There is a song by Kathy Troccoli called "My Life Is In Your Hands". The chorus goes like this:
My life is in Your hands/My heart is in Your keeping/I'm never without hope/not when my future is with You/My life is in Your hands/And though I may not see clearly/I will lift my voice and sing/'Cause Your love does amazing things/Lord I know, my life is in Your hands.
So I will keep singing. I will sing through the pain; through the tears. I will sing to honor my earthly Daddy and my Heavenly Daddy.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Divine Lunacy: Double Feature, Part II
Ok. As promised, I will tell you more about the new vehicle and how all of that happened here in Part II.
After I was turned down for the car loan through NSB via ZNB I was disheartened. Disheartened? To say I was disheartened would be like saying I didn't get the right order at Starbucks. I was crushed. My dream of owning a new car was going down in flames! I could see it being left in the dust through the slightly age spotted rearview mirror of my little Cavalier. Ok. So now what?
On Monday evening, my Auntie Paula came over to help my Mom with setting up a Bluetooth that Auntie Paula had. Mom, of course, told of my woes. Auntie Paula suggested that I try getting a loan through the Clark County Credit Union (CCCU) and also that I call my cousin, Dustin. CCCU because I do work for the County, after all, and Dustin because he is quite the wheeler-dealer when it comes to vehicle purchases. So, that evening, I challenged Dustin to find my dream car, a Nissan Rogue in Black Amethyst. The next day (after the tire incident), I called CCCU and got the ball rolling for a loan. Then I sat back and tried to relax. Not an easy task. At least, I didn't bite my nails.
Wednesday morning, I received a call from CCCU. I steeled myself for the worst and then about jumped for joy when Ethan told gave me the good news: I had been approved for $25,000. Then he put me over to the broker (they will also help you find the car of your dreams) to see about finding me what I wanted. Julie asked me some fairly routine questions: What make and model and year did I want? What features did I want? Still reeling from the good news, I was trying to answer her. My co-worker is telling me what I wanted until I was able to answer in intelligible English. Julie was great. She asked me if it was a deal breaker if they couldn't get the color I wanted. I told her no. The ONLY color I didn't want was any shade of green. "Green makes my butt look big." I explained. She hung up with a laugh (and probably a shake of her head) and went to work.
Meantime, Dustin stopped at Auto Nation Nissan (ANN) and talked to Bob. He dickered with Bob and they came up with a good deal on a new 2013. Ok. Sounds good. Then I got an e-mail from Rico at ANN that he had four 2014 Rogues in the Black Amethyst. I replied that I would let my cousin know and would give Rico's phone number to Dustin. A few back and forth's and by 6pm, I was on my way to being a genuine, honest to goodness, Nissan Rogue owner. I ended up being financed through Nissan at a lower interest rate (4.99 ANN vs. 5.49 CCCU).
I'm not going to go into more details, suffice it to say, I drove off the lot with a brand new, fully loaded Black Amethyst Nissan Rogue at about $4,000.00 under ticket price. With a 7-year/70K mile warranty. It was a bittersweet moment. More sweet than bitter, I assure you. My Dad would have been so proud. That his oldest was able to go into a dealership and secure a loan to purchase a vehicle on her own would have tickled him. I can even hear what he would have said upon inspection of this magnificent piece of machinery: "You did good, kid."
I am so thankful to God. He allowed each and every one of these trials to happen so that I would lean on and trust in Him more. He put each and every one of these people in my path to obtain the vehicle I so very much wanted: The 2014 Black Amethyst Nissan Rogue. I can almost imagine God sitting on His throne and clapping His hands with joy at the smile on my face as I drove off the lot in my new SUV. A gift from my Heavenly Daddy that would have made my earthly daddy smile.
After I was turned down for the car loan through NSB via ZNB I was disheartened. Disheartened? To say I was disheartened would be like saying I didn't get the right order at Starbucks. I was crushed. My dream of owning a new car was going down in flames! I could see it being left in the dust through the slightly age spotted rearview mirror of my little Cavalier. Ok. So now what?
On Monday evening, my Auntie Paula came over to help my Mom with setting up a Bluetooth that Auntie Paula had. Mom, of course, told of my woes. Auntie Paula suggested that I try getting a loan through the Clark County Credit Union (CCCU) and also that I call my cousin, Dustin. CCCU because I do work for the County, after all, and Dustin because he is quite the wheeler-dealer when it comes to vehicle purchases. So, that evening, I challenged Dustin to find my dream car, a Nissan Rogue in Black Amethyst. The next day (after the tire incident), I called CCCU and got the ball rolling for a loan. Then I sat back and tried to relax. Not an easy task. At least, I didn't bite my nails.
Wednesday morning, I received a call from CCCU. I steeled myself for the worst and then about jumped for joy when Ethan told gave me the good news: I had been approved for $25,000. Then he put me over to the broker (they will also help you find the car of your dreams) to see about finding me what I wanted. Julie asked me some fairly routine questions: What make and model and year did I want? What features did I want? Still reeling from the good news, I was trying to answer her. My co-worker is telling me what I wanted until I was able to answer in intelligible English. Julie was great. She asked me if it was a deal breaker if they couldn't get the color I wanted. I told her no. The ONLY color I didn't want was any shade of green. "Green makes my butt look big." I explained. She hung up with a laugh (and probably a shake of her head) and went to work.
Meantime, Dustin stopped at Auto Nation Nissan (ANN) and talked to Bob. He dickered with Bob and they came up with a good deal on a new 2013. Ok. Sounds good. Then I got an e-mail from Rico at ANN that he had four 2014 Rogues in the Black Amethyst. I replied that I would let my cousin know and would give Rico's phone number to Dustin. A few back and forth's and by 6pm, I was on my way to being a genuine, honest to goodness, Nissan Rogue owner. I ended up being financed through Nissan at a lower interest rate (4.99 ANN vs. 5.49 CCCU).
I'm not going to go into more details, suffice it to say, I drove off the lot with a brand new, fully loaded Black Amethyst Nissan Rogue at about $4,000.00 under ticket price. With a 7-year/70K mile warranty. It was a bittersweet moment. More sweet than bitter, I assure you. My Dad would have been so proud. That his oldest was able to go into a dealership and secure a loan to purchase a vehicle on her own would have tickled him. I can even hear what he would have said upon inspection of this magnificent piece of machinery: "You did good, kid."
I am so thankful to God. He allowed each and every one of these trials to happen so that I would lean on and trust in Him more. He put each and every one of these people in my path to obtain the vehicle I so very much wanted: The 2014 Black Amethyst Nissan Rogue. I can almost imagine God sitting on His throne and clapping His hands with joy at the smile on my face as I drove off the lot in my new SUV. A gift from my Heavenly Daddy that would have made my earthly daddy smile.
Divine Lunacy: Double Feature, Part I
This past week was filled with some very lows and some very highs. And I'm not talking about the temperature. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I have been looking for a new vehicle. My car is 14 years young and still running, but it is time. I have no air conditioning and with summer around the corner and triple digits only five days away, I am going to need one. On Sunday, I went on line at my bank and applied for a car loan. On Monday, I received an e-mail from Zion National Bank (the bank that my bank farmed the loan to) telling me it was declined and that I would receive a letter telling me why. I thought to myself, I will be proactive and call the number provided in the e-mail. Maybe they need more information. Maybe they need clarification. Maybe I want to know why they declined me and I don't want to wait for a letter. So I called. I was informed that I had too much credit. Too many charge cards (only three have a balance and that will be done with by Sunday). I couldn't believe it. Other times, I have tried to apply for a car loan and been told that my credit was so bad, I couldn't be a co-signer on the loan. I was stunned. And flabbergasted. I tried to explain. "I am a 55 year old woman. I have been with NSB for nearly 20 years; worked for the same employer for a little over 17 years. I have worked very hard over the last few years to repair and rebuild my credit. I have paid my bills on time; even before they were actually due. (I was told that paying your bills doesn't matter. Not paying them, however, counts against your credit.) I have paid my credit cards and charge cards in a timely manner and always more than the minimum amount. And I still can't get a loan?" I was crushed. I wanted so much to be able to walk into a dealership and say that I was approved for a car loan. My dream was toast. Or so I thought. More on that in Part II. (Didn't realize this would be a cliff hanger, did you?)
Tuesday, wasn't much better. On Sunday, I had noticed that my right front tire tread looked quite worn. That still small voice spoke up and said, you need to go to Pep Boys and get that taken care of. However, with an eye toward getting that new vehicle, I didn't want to spend any more money on my little Chevy than I really needed to. I thought, "Naw...I'll take care of that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day." Thank you, Miss Scarlett. On Tuesday, I got to work, pulled my stuff out of my car, and started for the office. I noticed that my right front tire was quite low on air and that the tread was not only thin, but separating. Was that a steel belt I was seeing? Why yes, it was. Blast! Now I was going to have to take a half day off and go get it fixed. Always assuming I could make it to Discount Tires. So, I schedule the half day off. At 1pm I go to my car and, of course, the tire is flat. I felt like sweet, innocent Nell of the melodramas: Woe is me! O, cruel fate! I called into the office to see if anyone had Fix-A-Flat. No one did. I didn't want to have to call my Mommy. She was trying to get ready for her trip to Oklahoma the next morning. I ended up calling her. She stopped and bought a can of Fix-A-Flat. Well, neither of us was comfortable using it, so I called the office and asked if one of the guys (Erwin Canlas, you're my hero) would be able to come out and help. He did. The Fix-A-Flat didn't. I didn't think I had a spare, but I did. And it was good. Erwin changed the tire and put on the little donut. I made it to Discount Tires and $118.00 later, I was good to go.
Here is the thing. I was feeling weepy that day. I was missing my Daddy. I kept thinking that he should be here, because he would have gotten it taken care of for me. I wouldn't have had to stress about it. I wouldn't have had to call Mom and disrupt her day and trip preparations. As I waited for my Mom to come, I cried off and on. I tried, too, to find ways to praise God for what was happening. After all, I had been on the freeway that morning to come to work and the tire could have blown out and it didn't. I kept coming back to the fact that I am a father-less daughter and that he wasn't going to be there to help me ever again.
Here comes the plot twist, folks. Are you ready? That little donut? The spare we found conveniently nestled in the recess of my trunk? My Dad gave that to me a few years ago. When he and my Mom bought their Saturn Vue, he purchased a full sized spare and gave me their donut because mine had disintegrated. He had taken care of everything once again. And that alone is worth praising my Heavenly Daddy. He made sure that my earthly Daddy would be able to help me on a day when I was missing him so much. What a precious gift. I will treasure it always.
Coming soon (this afternoon): Double Feature, Part II.
Tuesday, wasn't much better. On Sunday, I had noticed that my right front tire tread looked quite worn. That still small voice spoke up and said, you need to go to Pep Boys and get that taken care of. However, with an eye toward getting that new vehicle, I didn't want to spend any more money on my little Chevy than I really needed to. I thought, "Naw...I'll take care of that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day." Thank you, Miss Scarlett. On Tuesday, I got to work, pulled my stuff out of my car, and started for the office. I noticed that my right front tire was quite low on air and that the tread was not only thin, but separating. Was that a steel belt I was seeing? Why yes, it was. Blast! Now I was going to have to take a half day off and go get it fixed. Always assuming I could make it to Discount Tires. So, I schedule the half day off. At 1pm I go to my car and, of course, the tire is flat. I felt like sweet, innocent Nell of the melodramas: Woe is me! O, cruel fate! I called into the office to see if anyone had Fix-A-Flat. No one did. I didn't want to have to call my Mommy. She was trying to get ready for her trip to Oklahoma the next morning. I ended up calling her. She stopped and bought a can of Fix-A-Flat. Well, neither of us was comfortable using it, so I called the office and asked if one of the guys (Erwin Canlas, you're my hero) would be able to come out and help. He did. The Fix-A-Flat didn't. I didn't think I had a spare, but I did. And it was good. Erwin changed the tire and put on the little donut. I made it to Discount Tires and $118.00 later, I was good to go.
Here is the thing. I was feeling weepy that day. I was missing my Daddy. I kept thinking that he should be here, because he would have gotten it taken care of for me. I wouldn't have had to stress about it. I wouldn't have had to call Mom and disrupt her day and trip preparations. As I waited for my Mom to come, I cried off and on. I tried, too, to find ways to praise God for what was happening. After all, I had been on the freeway that morning to come to work and the tire could have blown out and it didn't. I kept coming back to the fact that I am a father-less daughter and that he wasn't going to be there to help me ever again.
Here comes the plot twist, folks. Are you ready? That little donut? The spare we found conveniently nestled in the recess of my trunk? My Dad gave that to me a few years ago. When he and my Mom bought their Saturn Vue, he purchased a full sized spare and gave me their donut because mine had disintegrated. He had taken care of everything once again. And that alone is worth praising my Heavenly Daddy. He made sure that my earthly Daddy would be able to help me on a day when I was missing him so much. What a precious gift. I will treasure it always.
Coming soon (this afternoon): Double Feature, Part II.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Divine Lunacy: Power on...Battery high...Connected
This last Sunday, my Mom and I decided to have a "girl's day out". We found a little place (Bebee Nails on Rainbow) and had pedi and gel mani's. I got red and she opted for a very light pinkish lavender for her toes and a French for her nails. Then we went to Verizon and got Mom hooked up with my old Smart Phone. We went a little overboard and each bought a Bluetooth device that hangs around your neck.
This morning, I put the ear bud in my ear and turned on the device. As I did so, I heard these words: "Power on...Battery high...Connected." And it struck me. When we start the day off with our Lord through scripture and prayer, this is the result. The Power is turned on. The battery is charged and ready to go. We are connected.
It shall come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear. Isaiah 65:24.
I don't know about you, but I feel a whole lot better about life in general knowing this: Power on...battery high...connected.
This morning, I put the ear bud in my ear and turned on the device. As I did so, I heard these words: "Power on...Battery high...Connected." And it struck me. When we start the day off with our Lord through scripture and prayer, this is the result. The Power is turned on. The battery is charged and ready to go. We are connected.
It shall come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear. Isaiah 65:24.
I don't know about you, but I feel a whole lot better about life in general knowing this: Power on...battery high...connected.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Divine Lunacy Sits Still...
This morning, I did something I haven't done for quite a long while. I got up, went to a park, and watched the sunrise. I used to do this on a fairly regular basis when I first came back to God. I would get up, make a cup of coffee to go, and drive up to a park way out on Craig Road. I would sit there with my coffee, my Bible, and a flashlight. I would read the Bible using the flashlight, sip my coffee, and talk to God. Just Him and me. I would come home filled with joy and peace. I wonder if that's how Moses felt when he would come down from the mountain after time spent in God's presence. Today, I took my Kindle (my Bible is on it) and drove to a park not far from my Mom's house. I didn't take any coffee with me this time and I stayed in my car. I parked facing east and waited. I have a book on my Kindle that I have been using for my morning devotions called "Jesus Calling". I'm ashamed to say, I didn't have my devotion yesterday morning. So I read March 14 today. It was absolutely perfect for what I was doing.
A while back I read a Facebook post that said something to the effect of "Sit still and wait for God's grace to fall on you." In this crazy-busy world in which we live, how do you sit still and wait? I mean, I know we wait in lines to check out at grocery/retail stores. We wait in lines at the Costco gas pumps to get gas. We wait in lines inside and in drive-thru's at banks and fast food restaurants. However, we are very rarely still. We are checking our e-mails, Facebook, Google, texts, etc. while we wait. We are constantly occupied by something. My goal today was to sit still and wait. Yes, I did read the devotion and the accompanying Bible verses that went with it. Then I closed my Kindle and laid it aside. I talked to God. I asked Him to help me sit still and wait. I told Him, I wanted to receive His grace. I cried. I was still. I waited. I received. I was blessed.
I want to renew this old habit. Spending time with God as a new day starts is something I do (pretty much) every day. However, I very rarely get up and go outside to watch as that day begins. That is something I want and need to do more regularly. I want to start each week filled with joy, peace, and wonder at God's great love for me and for all of the human race. I want to have the glow that Moses is purported to have after spending time in God's radiant glory. I want to be filled up with His grace so that it overflows on to people I come in contact with throughout my days. Maybe then, I will be able to love others as God has loved me. Maybe it will help me to love myself so that I can love my neighbors, too.
May you each have a Spirit filled and blessed Sabbath Day!
The Vicountess Babbles On
A while back I read a Facebook post that said something to the effect of "Sit still and wait for God's grace to fall on you." In this crazy-busy world in which we live, how do you sit still and wait? I mean, I know we wait in lines to check out at grocery/retail stores. We wait in lines at the Costco gas pumps to get gas. We wait in lines inside and in drive-thru's at banks and fast food restaurants. However, we are very rarely still. We are checking our e-mails, Facebook, Google, texts, etc. while we wait. We are constantly occupied by something. My goal today was to sit still and wait. Yes, I did read the devotion and the accompanying Bible verses that went with it. Then I closed my Kindle and laid it aside. I talked to God. I asked Him to help me sit still and wait. I told Him, I wanted to receive His grace. I cried. I was still. I waited. I received. I was blessed.
I want to renew this old habit. Spending time with God as a new day starts is something I do (pretty much) every day. However, I very rarely get up and go outside to watch as that day begins. That is something I want and need to do more regularly. I want to start each week filled with joy, peace, and wonder at God's great love for me and for all of the human race. I want to have the glow that Moses is purported to have after spending time in God's radiant glory. I want to be filled up with His grace so that it overflows on to people I come in contact with throughout my days. Maybe then, I will be able to love others as God has loved me. Maybe it will help me to love myself so that I can love my neighbors, too.
May you each have a Spirit filled and blessed Sabbath Day!
The Vicountess Babbles On
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Divine Lunacy wept again...
"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love." Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
On December 10, 2013, at approximately 2:45am, my Dad drew his last breath this side of eternity. When my sister called to tell me, the quote above came back into my head. I had been thinking of it off and on since my Dad's decline. I had been praying that God would make my Dad well enough and strong enough to have one last Christmas with his family. God didn't and he wasn't.
Why is it that we pity the dead? Their troubles are over and they are, in essence, asleep. When they wake, the next face that they see will be that of our loving Saviour. I rather envy them. Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything rash. I will let nature take it's course, as it were. I just mean, they are done with all the crap here. No more bills or taxes or disease or death. True, there will be no more laughter or love, at least for now.
I have found myself again struggling with my anger toward God. My Dad loved God. He told our Pastor and a few other people that he would rather die from cancer and know his salvation was sure, than to be healed and lose his salvation. I get that. I really do. I know that my Dad will be resurrected on that great day. I know that God answered his prayer and that my Dad was right with God and yet, I'm still angry. I have a Facebook friend that had a cancer scare. This friend does not believe in God and scorns God and Christians every chance he gets. My Dad loves God and dies; this man hates God and lives. How is that even fair?
That is exactly the question I posed to God. Why does Ray get a pass and my Dad doesn't? Through my tears and sobs came the answer. "Your Dad was ready to meet Me. Ray isn't and I want to give him every chance to be ready." We serve a merciful and loving God.
"God isn’t late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the End because he doesn’t want anyone lost. He’s giving everyone space and time to change." 2 Peter 3:9 (MSG)
I know there are those who would excuse my anger and pettiness by saying it is a natural reaction to the situation. It is. A natural reaction for a sinful nature. My anger and pettiness are part of the selfishness I have yet to overcome. I don't wish Ray any ill will and I am glad for him that his diagnosis was not more serious.
Today, we celebrate my Dad's life with a memorial service. I know so many will be telling us they are sorry that he lost his battle with cancer, but that just isn't true. Dad didn't lose his battle with cancer. Nicole Johnson is one of my favorite Christian Dramatists. She wrote and performed a dramatic piece called "Stepping Into The Ring." There are a couple of lines from this drama: "And no one who fights with their hope in the Lord ever loses the last round. In order for cancer to win, it would have to be able to follow me beyond the grave--and it can not." My Dad did not lose his battle with cancer. When Jesus calls forth the righteous dead, my Dad will rise up. He will be whole and healthy and there won't be a cancer cell in site. Now that is a victory.
John Donne wrote a series of Holy Sonnets. One of them is quite famous. It is called, "Death, Be Not Proud." This man totally nailed it. He really understood that Death has no power over those who believe, trust, and take God at His word:
On December 10, 2013, at approximately 2:45am, my Dad drew his last breath this side of eternity. When my sister called to tell me, the quote above came back into my head. I had been thinking of it off and on since my Dad's decline. I had been praying that God would make my Dad well enough and strong enough to have one last Christmas with his family. God didn't and he wasn't.
Why is it that we pity the dead? Their troubles are over and they are, in essence, asleep. When they wake, the next face that they see will be that of our loving Saviour. I rather envy them. Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything rash. I will let nature take it's course, as it were. I just mean, they are done with all the crap here. No more bills or taxes or disease or death. True, there will be no more laughter or love, at least for now.
I have found myself again struggling with my anger toward God. My Dad loved God. He told our Pastor and a few other people that he would rather die from cancer and know his salvation was sure, than to be healed and lose his salvation. I get that. I really do. I know that my Dad will be resurrected on that great day. I know that God answered his prayer and that my Dad was right with God and yet, I'm still angry. I have a Facebook friend that had a cancer scare. This friend does not believe in God and scorns God and Christians every chance he gets. My Dad loves God and dies; this man hates God and lives. How is that even fair?
That is exactly the question I posed to God. Why does Ray get a pass and my Dad doesn't? Through my tears and sobs came the answer. "Your Dad was ready to meet Me. Ray isn't and I want to give him every chance to be ready." We serve a merciful and loving God.
"God isn’t late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the End because he doesn’t want anyone lost. He’s giving everyone space and time to change." 2 Peter 3:9 (MSG)
I know there are those who would excuse my anger and pettiness by saying it is a natural reaction to the situation. It is. A natural reaction for a sinful nature. My anger and pettiness are part of the selfishness I have yet to overcome. I don't wish Ray any ill will and I am glad for him that his diagnosis was not more serious.
Today, we celebrate my Dad's life with a memorial service. I know so many will be telling us they are sorry that he lost his battle with cancer, but that just isn't true. Dad didn't lose his battle with cancer. Nicole Johnson is one of my favorite Christian Dramatists. She wrote and performed a dramatic piece called "Stepping Into The Ring." There are a couple of lines from this drama: "And no one who fights with their hope in the Lord ever loses the last round. In order for cancer to win, it would have to be able to follow me beyond the grave--and it can not." My Dad did not lose his battle with cancer. When Jesus calls forth the righteous dead, my Dad will rise up. He will be whole and healthy and there won't be a cancer cell in site. Now that is a victory.
John Donne wrote a series of Holy Sonnets. One of them is quite famous. It is called, "Death, Be Not Proud." This man totally nailed it. He really understood that Death has no power over those who believe, trust, and take God at His word:
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love."
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