23 Jul

Picnic Basket Epiphany

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , , , , , .

It’s 5:45pm on a Monday.
Everyone and their brother is at Target.
Maybe their grandma, too.
Why?!
It’s pouring cats and dogs outside.
Can’t people find anything better to do than peruse the aisles of knock off candles, As-Seen-On-TV gadgets and turquoise jewelry?

Wait a minute.  I’m here, too.  Without my brother, might I add (’cause I don’t have one), but Nana is waiting in the car outside.

A quick trip to the pharmacy found me lolligagging through the grocery section whilst I waited on a prescription to be filled, seeking out a quick meal to fix for my family tonight.

Spaghetti sauce?  For just a dollar a jar?
Heck yes!  I’ll take two, thank you!

Sourdough bread?  Peperidge Farm?
I never buy that brand, ’cause it’s so pricey.
It’s a splurge, but I just saved a ton on the store brand sauce.
Sure, put it in my buggy!

Now I need some of that sprinkle stinky cheese for the top of Ole’ Smokey.
Maybe the name brand kind will be on sale.
Now where is it at?

As I rounded the corner of aisle number 5, I saw it.  I SAW IT!  Not the cheese, but something more sparkly.  Sitting on the lower shelf in the cool housewares section that taunts the hamburger meats and pineapples across the way in the grocery department, was a picnic basket.  Staring back at me in all of it’s pink and yellow woven glory, it was a simple wooden basket, much like I would imagine made a trip through the woods to granny’s house. Only, this one was jazzed up in colorful summertime hues.  It begs passersby, “Take me home with you and I’ll afford you the luxury of a perfect weekend picnic.  It will be all rainbows and unicorns.  Buy me and see!”

I realized something in that split second of hearing the fruitless attempts of that basket to promise me something it cannot (probably) deliver.

Thank you, magazine ads and television commercials.  Thank you, sitcoms and soap operas and ooshy, gooshy romance novels.  And thank you, Little Bear and Little Red Riding Hood.  Because of all these things and more, the promises of the picnic basket are alluring, to say the least.   Based on sheer emotion of these recalled things alone, it’s almost guaranteed a sell to a sucker like…well, like me!  Who woudln’t love to have a Sunday afternoon picnic with Pa and Ma and the Ingles girls in Walnut Grove?

Here’s what I’m getting at.  I’m a marketer by training, having the B.B.A. from a local university stuck behind some dresser or file cabinet in my house to prove it.  The lure of certain items, of styles of decorating, of ways of behavior…often these things come from our longing for the greener grass over there some where we’re not.

If only I would buy that picnic basket – all my fincancial woes, my menopausal blues, my family stresses, my lack of free time, my frizzy hair – all of this would go away, and I’d have chicken salad croissant sandwiches on an ant-free, plaid blanket.  I’d be drinking  lemonade spritzers  from old-timey paper straws with barber-shop stripes of orange and blue, enjoying head-tossing laughter with my immaculately clad children and adoring husband on a perfect 77 degree, partly sunny afternoon on a grassy green knoll overlooking a babbling creek.  

Babbling?  Or is it bubbling?  Babbling, bubbling…..anyhow, you get the picture, don’t you?  Can’t you see it?

I think having this picnic basekt epiphany might just cure my magazine addiction.  Yeah, we’re all addicted to something, right?  Things that promise to take us away to the perfection we imagine.

If only I could afford to buy that $400 dress from _____________ [you fill in the blank – I’m no fashionista, and little more than Wal-Mart and Catos comes to mind for me – but go ahead, plug in whatever expensive, high-end dress shop you can think of there] I’d surely turn the head of my ex-spouse and make his new girlfriend jealous…

If I eat a cheeseburger, I’ll feel so much better.  I’m a stress eater, you know.

If I [drink or smoke or do some sort of illegal drug excessively], I will be more confident.

If I buy all of those home decorating magazines, and cooking magazines, and gardening magazines, I will magically be able to turn my home into a Southern Living home, make my family healthier with all the good foods I prepare, and have a yard I can relax in.

Oh my!  I could go on and on and on.  So many things seem to offer us a quick answer to what we feel is missing.

The dress?  Self-value or worth.

The cheeseburger?  Comfort.

Alcohol, smoking, drugs?  Self-confidence.  Maybe a need to be seen as “cool”.

Magazines?  Perfection.

And what about my picnic basekt?  The one I didn’t buy?  It promises me time without worry.  It sings me a lullaby of carefree moments spent without worry over bills, or my kids’ schedules, or the Middle East…

Here’s the thing.  That all sounds great, but the conjured up image I have of the picnic basket perfection fails to mention the ants.  And the bumble bees.  And the wind, which will surely turn up any and all corners of the blanket I spread out, which will probably in turn spill drinks and flip grass clippings up onto any food the ants haven’t already eaten.  The humidity will be high, causing the crossaints to be soggy.  The temperature will be high, setting the stage for quick spoiling of the mayonnaise-based chicken salad.

Yeah, I think I’m going to give up the magazines for a while, but I might just go purchase that picnic basket. Afterall, it’s a perfect reminder to stop longing for the perfection of what might be, and instead enjoying the perfect imperfection that is all around me.

Jesus tells us in John 16:33:  “I have told you these things, so that in Me you will have peace. In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world!”

Perfection in everything earthly is just not possible.  For each of us, what we would consider perfection is different.  Take heart, my friends!  Stop seeking out perfection and trying to “fix” things with….well….with things!  Or with other people.  Jesus Christ has overcome the world, and everything here is temporary.  TEMPORARY!  That includes the bad feelings, the oppressive longings, the insecurities….all of that junk.  Take heart!  And buy a picnic basket if you need soemthing to remind you of the immaculate celebration that awaits us on a perfectly manicured, lush lawn of green in The Master’s garden.

15 Jul

Spaghetti Squash and Company

Posted by Sherry in FOOD. Tagged: , , , , , .

Got these two, giant yellow orb vegetables called spaghetti squash in our farm share this month.  I have never in my life even thought about eating one of these, let alone cooking it.  For two weeks, the big gourd-looking things lived on my kitchen counter, until meeting their demise yesterday.

I stand corrected on every ill-thought I had about these tough-to-cut-into squash giants.  What was created using them was FABULOUS!  I’m here to tell you that YOU can eat them too, and not only that, YOU can prepare them!  It’s not hard, but it is time consuming.  Here’s what you do.

DO NOT try to cut these beasts in half like so many Pinterest recipes tell you to.  Trust me.  Don’t.  Instead, puncture them with a sharp object, like a skewer or knife, several times, all over.  Then put them on a pizza pan or cookie sheet and pop ’em in 375 degree oven on bake.  Set your timer for 90 minutes and forget about them.  Go watch a movie.  Or read a good book.  With an hour and a half of free time, you could read four or five magazines cover to cover!

When your timer goes off, get those babies out of the oven.  Be careful!  They are now giant super orbs of heat, certain to be filled with orange lava.  Dont’ drop them!  Let them cool for a long time.  go ahead and set your timer for another 45 minutes or so.  And LEAVE THEM ALONE.  No good can be done with them whilst they are burning hot.

They might look like this when you take them out of the oven:

 

IMG_6265

 

While you’re waiting for what seems like FOREVER for them to cool, go ahead and get out a large Pyrex casserole dish – the big one.  Spray the bottom with olive oil.  After they are cooled, here’s what you do:

SCRAPE and DISCARD all the seeds in one squash (both halves).

SCRAPE the good flesh – the spaghetti looking junk – into the bottom of the casserole dish.

SPREAD it all out in a nice, even layer.

SLICE 6-8 fresh tomatoes.  Matters not the type.  Your choice!

PLACE tomato slices on top of the first layer of spaghetti squash string things.

Here’s a picture:

IMG_6267

SPRINKLE garlic powder, onion powder, sea salt, black pepper, oregano and basil all over the tops of the tomatoes and the layer of strings.

COVER this layer with 1-2 ounces of mozerella cheese.

COVER that layer with 2  ounces of parmesan cheese.

Easy, huh?  And by now your dish should be smelling all Italiany and stuff.  SO GOOD!  NEXT, cut open the second spaghetti squash and do the same thing.  Discarding seeds, scraping flesh out, and then repeat all those steps above…..you’re making the second layer!  Make sure you top it all off with as much cheese as you like.  And lots of herbs.

Here’s what your dish might look like:

IMG_6273

Cook that junk in a 350 degree oven for 35 minutes – UNCOVERED – and then get ready to chow!  It’s so tasty!!!

BUT WAIT, there’s more!

So I wanted to have a protein with this, and all I could find in the freezer were chicken thighs.  Some big bag we got from Sam’s Club last week.  Boneless, skinless thighs.  Here’s what I came up with –

I popped 7 thighs on a baking sheet and put them in the oven for 35 minutes at 350 degrees.

When they were done and the juices were running clear, let them cool for about 10 minutes.  While they were cooling, I sauteed in a big ole’ frying pan about 1 cup of purple diced onions in 2 tablespoons of grapeseed oil…and added a little garlic powder and salt and pepper.  Then I added the cooled chicken thighs to the frying pan.  I cooked this on medium high.  Hot enough to keep the liquids popping.  Next I added 1 can of tomato sauce, 1 package of crmini mushrooms, sliced thin, and 1/2 cup o fresh diced bell peppers.  I also added about 2 teaspoons of  poultry seasoning and 1/4 teaspoon of black pepper.  I covered this mess with a lid and let it continue to cook on medium for about 20  minutes.  Oh, it was looking saucy!  After 20 minutes, I added about 1/4 cup of marsala wine and cooked the concoction down until the red juices and veggies were thick like gravy.  Here’s a picture (This was what was left AFTER we ate.  I was so excited about the final product, I forgot to take a picture before we all dived into this dish!):

IMG_6286

OH MY GOODNESS!  So yummy!

I added a scoop of the chicken thigh stuff to the side of the spaghetti squash stuff, and it made a perfect dish!
Here is is:

IMG_6280

Our twelve year old son came up with the name for this brand new dish.  It’s called:

Chicken CatchyTonky

26 Jun

3 A.M.

Posted by Sherry in Not Food.

When I was little, I saw something or heard something that lead me to believe that 3 AM was “the hour of death”.  I don’t remember if someone mentioned it in a conversation I overheard, or if it was talked about in the movie “Psycho” (which I saw parts of when I was way too young), but somehow that statement became a frightening truth of my overactive imagination.  We’re talking from age 6 or so on.  Seriously!  Because of that “truth” I wouldn’t dare speak of but kept hidden just below the surface of every evening, I didn’t sleep well.  Not solidly, and surely not peacefully.  I couldn’t have told you what exactly was supposed to happen in the “hour of death”, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good.

I can remember in my elementary school days asking to sleep in the spare bedroom.  There was a double bed in there, and room enough for my 4 foot tall Winnie the Pooh to sleep with me.  My parents thought that was all cute and stuff.  The reality was, at that young age, I recognized my fear and was somehow able to treat the symptoms of my poor sleeping by sharing the bed with my “protective” giant stuffed animal.  In this spare bedroom, we had little turtle figurines made out of painted stones or something, each modeled to reflect an activity.  Like there was “Golfer Turtle”, who had a little golf club and little golf beenie hat and a little golf ball.  There was also “Baseball Turtle”, who has a little bat, and baseball, and baseball hat.  There were probably 5 or 6 different ones in all.  They were all positioned as if they were freeze-framed in action.  “Golfer Turtle” was mid-swing.  “Baseball Turtle” was twisted at the waist, having just hit a home run, I’m sure.  After the house was quiet, and Winnie the Pooh and I were all tucked under the covers, those turtles came alive, of this I am certain!  Okay, so maybe that WAS my over active imagination, but it didn’t change the fact that I just knew odd things happened around the 3 am hour.

When I was younger I also had heard that there are good and bad in everyone, and in everything.  This is probably thanks to some fire and brimstone preaching I half heard when I was stretched out across the 8th row pew, coloring, while Preacher Baumgardner was shouting it from the pulpit.  I don’t know what else he said, but I held onto that whole “good and bad” thing.  When I’d get in my bed at night, I imagined that there was a good and bad side to my mattress.  Of course, the side I was sleeping on was the good side.  That wasn’t enough, though.  I didn’t want any part of that bad side, so I woud roll over onto my side and scootch all the way to the edge of the mattress, careful not to let my toes or any other body part reach out over the protective boundary of the mattress edge.  I didn’t want my body parts to be burned off if my mattress was accidentally launched into space.  But that’s a whole other story.  Ha!  To this day, not because I believe in that whole good-bad side of the bed thing, I sleep on the very edge of the matress.  I do let my toes venture off the edge now, though.  I never told my husband he sleeps on the bad side.   I wonder if he knows?  🙂

As I aged into a tennager, my evenings rotated between my twin bed bedroom and my double bed spare bedroom.  My 3 am fear never lessened.  I can recall being a senior in high school and still waking up in the middle of the night (what was actually early early morning).  I could see my mother’s bedroom from the spare bedroom, so I tended to sleep in there more often, even though I gave up the protection of Winnie the Pooh by this point.  The stupid recreational turtles still lived in there, but I just learned to let them have their fun and paid them no attention.  It never failed, though.  Close to 3 am, my eyes would pop open – my body stilly positioned on the edge of the mattress – cacooned in my bedcovers all the way over my ears, with only the bridge of my nose and eyes exposed.  I would begin to psych myself up…getting ready for the mad, serious dash across the hallway where I could dive to safety beside my momma in her bed.

After I married, I began to finally get some good sleep.  As long as my husband was in the bed beside me, I felt safe.  I still slept on the edge of the bed and I tended to sleep with the covers cacooned around me more often than not, but I found myself sleeping more solidly…before 3am and after 3am.  I noticed that I was waking 3-4 times a week at exactly the 3 am hour.  Most of the times I wouldn’t move.  I’d stay, paralized, beneath my covers.  Eventually my angst would exhaust me and I’d drift off.  Whenever my husband wasn’t home, however, that was a different story.  I would clean the house, and clean the house, and start art projects, and clean the house some more,  way into the night, long after the kids were asleep.  I would exhaust myself so that by 4 or 5 am, I could get some rest.  It had to be after the 3 am hour, though.

By 2006, I began pacing myself routinely and consistently in scripture, as I desired to walk more closely with my Savior.  As my relationship with Christ grew, so did my understanding of what it means to be saved and covered by the blood of Jesus Christ.  I accepted the Lord in the early 90’s and in a public profession of my faith, I was Baptised by emersion at my church.  It took me several years beyond that moment, however, to begin to really understand the depth and grandure of what it meant to be a child of God.  So by 2006, I was so hungrily studying God’s word and felt drawn especially to the scriptures that speak of protection from evil.  You know – the bad I had heard about when I was a little girl.  One night, with my husband snoring contentedly beside me, at the 3 am hour, my eyes popped open.  I didn’t move.  I hardlly breathed.  The air around the little bit of face I had exposed was so thick, and suffocating.  And pitch dark.  I felt as if the heaviness was a live presence.  A being.  I had these feelings often when I found myself awake and waiting for my worry-induced exhaustion to lead me to the safety of sleep.  This one particular night, though, I felt bold and  I felt confident.  Not bold and confident enough to lower the covers from my face, but enough to speak out loud, “In the name of My Father, Jesus Christ, I rebuke you.  You cannot have what is not yours.  I belong to Him.”  And just like that, the air was light and it felt as if something had exited my presence.  And I slept.

Since then, I have slept like a baby!  On rare occasions when I have been woken in the middle of the night, I simply roll back over and finish my restfuls slumber.  Did you hear that?  ROLL BACK OVER!  That’s right!  Since that night, I’m not held prisoner on the edge of my mattress.  I no longer cacoon.  Man, is there freedom in kicking the covers off, or sleeping with one leg out of the covers!  Who knew!?  Matters not if my husband is home or away in the evenings, my sleep is not affected.

I’ve wondered often if there are other people out there who have struggled with being unable to really rest due to some fear they privately hold onto.

What I do know now is that God took the fear of a six-year old that was some 30 years old, and got rid of it.  He can do that with all of our fears, our struggles, or worries, if we are willing to just give it to Him.  Totally hand it over to Him.  In an instant, He can heal.

26 May

He Gave Me Her Name

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , .

For the entire month of April, the Lord gave me her name.
I mean, He literally spelled it out loud enough for me to hear!
Several times.  Not just once.
I questioned at first,

What?!!!  Lord, why are you giving me her name?

Then as He remained consistent, day after day, I responded,

Okay, Lord.  You know what you’re doing, even though I don’t.  I’m not sure why You’re giving her name to me, but I trust You do.

Then I wrote her name on a sticky note and dated it: April 14, 2014 at 11:45am.
I put it on my prayer board.

Lord, You know what this person needs right now, and I’m asking for Your Presence and Your Peace to surround her, and comfort her, and offer whatever it is that she needs right now.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

She is someone I don’t know, really, but we have a shared history.
See, she’s my ex-husband’s wife.
Yep.
The one.
The one whom I assigned fault to years ago.
The one whom I placed above myself, in terms of beauty, appeal…
He chose her over me. 
So many years of hurt and feeling inadequate were encapsulated by those tiny three little words.
He. Chose. Her.
Needless-to-say, she is also the one whom I avoided.
At all costs.
Like the plague.
But as time passed, my heart was softened, and after almost ten years, I reached out to her in an effort of obedience.  I was overcome with the need to forgive this woman, and more than that, ask for her forgiveness for all the terrible things I had said, done, and thought over the years.

But now – NOW – here it is about 5 years or so since even then!
Why was the Lord giving me her name?
Hadn’t we said what we needed to?
Wasn’t it water under the bridge?

The Lord became more specific with me, giving me ideas that I thought were just absurd.  Like one afternoon, while waiting for a traffic light to turn green, I thought,

I wonder if she would ever call me?  I wish maybe she would.  Is this crazy?  What could we possibly have to say to each other?
Oh, Lord, I lift her up to You, for whatever it is she is in need of right now.

And then the light turned green, and I drove on to the next traffic light without a second thought of her.

Every time her name was given to me, I prayed for her.  I didn’t know why, but it was being asked of me, so I did.

On the last Friday in April, when I got in my car to leave work, my cell phone was buzzing, letting me know I had a new voice mail.

It’s probably the school lunch room calling to remind me that there is a lunch account balance of negative three dollars.

As I turned onto the main highway, my voice mail announced:  You have one new message.  And then…

Then…

Then…

I was in tears.

She had called.

The tears kept flowing, not because of what she was saying or because she was reaching out – but because I knew instantly that the Lord had been preparing my heart for this moment.  I knew that the Holy Spirit had me praying for this woman, and I was overwhelmed with the thick evidence of His promptings.  I knew that because of Jesus Christ, what was in the past was just that – In. The. Past.  Whatever was between us long ago was done.  Finished.  I knew that now, in this moment, God’s hand on both of our lives was very real, very present, and very powerful.

I could hardly wait to call her back and just let her know that for the entire month, the Lord had been bringing her to thought and that I had been praying for her!

And what did she say?  Don’t you want to know?

The Lord had been giving her my name – He had been urging her to reach out to me!  She had sent  an email on March 20th, about two weeks before the Lord first brought her name to me, asking if I’d be willing to meet with her.  I never saw the email.  It was sent through FaceBook, but because we are not FB friends, her email was delivered without notification, to a folder that I didn’t know about.  She could tell I hadn’t read it yet.  Because I had not responded, she was calling out of obedience. She said the Lord kept asking her to contact me.  On that particular day, the Lord had told her to just call me, and stop waiting for me to see her email.

Nothing but God! That is NOTHING but God! To be the recipients of His very direct orchestration — to see the raw, real hand of God at work to bring us together —

Yes, tears. Absolute perfectly cleansing, wonderful tears!

Heavenly Father, thank you for your love.  Thank you for your guidance.  And thank you for your timing.  Your patience.  And for never letting up when I just don’t get things the first, second or third time in a row.  Father, please continue to use me and to minister in and through my life.  I want so desperately to be obedient to Your will for my life.  Thank you so much, Lord, for a new friendship that I have and for blessing us along this sometimes bumpy life journey.  And more than anything, Lord, I thank you for Your Son, Jesus Christ, who was nailed to the cross and paid for my sins.  Because of that, she and I have no history.  We have no past.  And we can go forward with a new friendship as sisters in Christ.  Praise your name, Lord.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

If you are on FaceBook, go to your messages page.  At the top left you will see the word “INBOX”.  These are the FB messages you receive notification for.  Right beside that word, in light gray, you’ll see the word “OTHER”.  This is the folder that FB sends messages to that are potentially junk mail or from people who are not in your FB friends list.  I think it depends on your personal settings.  In my case, I have FB set to only notify me of messages recieved from my friends list.  Anything else gets quietly dropped into the “other” folder.  I might never have seen her email, had she not reached out to me by calling.  However, in this case, it was just more evidence of God’s gentle urging to both of us, wihtout knowledge of His doing so in each other’s hearts.  God is so, so good.  All the time.

 

1 May

I’m Not Of This World – Except When I Am

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , .

Know what I mean?

I am very much His – saved by the blood of Jesus Christ – given mercy new and fresh every day – afforded grace beyond what I deserve.  I sin every single day.  Multiple times!  Not proud of this, but also not in denial.  And after all of my shortcomings and daily mistakes, my Father still welcomes me.  Wants me.  Loves me.

Praise the Lord, I’m not who I used to be.  And tomorrow?  I’ll be not who I was today.  Day by day, I long to live a life that is completely glorifying of my Saviour.  Sometimes it feels like two steps forward and three back, but I’ve learned as long as I keep Him in focus and ahead of me, I’m progressively being molded into the person He desires.

Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. (Is 64:8 NIV)

 

Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use? (Rom 9:12 NIV)

 

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us [our] sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)

 

Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. (Lam 3:23 NLT)

30 Apr

I Was In Darkness…And Then I Saw You

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , .

Several years ago, I went through a divorce.  The circumstances surrounding my life then left me feeling betrayed, broken and unworthy.  I was hurting.  I was angry.  And I was afraid.  The whole ordeal introduced me to poisonous feelings I had never had before, including some very unhealthy disdain for my ex-husband and his new wife.  Disdain is a nice word.  I used that instead of hatred.  But that’s what I was feeling – raw, destructive hate.  Hate for people I credited for my wounds at the time.  For my broken family.  For my children who were now part of a single-parent household.  For the gossip and rumors.  For the fishbowl I was sure I now lived in.

Years passed.  Those negative feelings, though, really didn’t.  Instead of addressing them, I buried them under busyness and new relationships.  I avoided the two people whom I felt caused me pain at all costs.  Wanted nothing to do with them.  Neither one.

Then one day, almost ten years after my divorce, I became aware of the Holy Spirit nudging me.  I strongly felt that God wanted me to reach out to my ex-husband’s wife, the one for whom I still carried most of the ill-feelings.   The one for whom I had shifted all of the blame to after all of these years.  Absurd as it seemed to me, I ignored this feeling for as long as I could.  I can remember saying outloud in my car once, “You want me to do what?!”  Softly, and continually, an urgency seemed to grow.

I had joined a church close by, one that I spent a lot of time at when I was a child, and had been getting in on bible studies and attending services pretty regularly.  For the first time in my life, I had begun to read the Bible consisitenly, too, actually digging in to understand The Word.  Christ’s ministry on earth had come alive for me and though I had been baptized when I was 24 years old, about 6 years before my divorce, pieces I didn’t know were missing started to click into place as I grew in my understanding of what it means to be a daughter of Christ.  No doubt that this is the reason it had taken me 10 years to finally acknowledge the negative, damaging feelings I had been harboring.  I was being convicted.  I had been committing the same sin for all of these years, day in and day out, and the Holy Spirit was guiding me to do what was right.

You’d think that would be enough, wouldn’t you?  But it wasn’t.

I kept ignoring Him.  I kept arguing with Him.  Debating with Him.  I didn’t want to give in.  I didn’t want to face the very person whom I had hated for all of these years.  I thought I knew what was best.

So God gave me a vision.

It came to me in a dream, but unlike any I’ve had before or since.  I chose to believe it was a vision, because I was stubborn enough and so obstinate — well, it’s like the “big guns” had to be brought out so I could understand what was being asked of me, and why.

This is how it was presented to me:

It’s dark.
Pitch, so.
I can only see the outlines of figures.
It’s so dark and scarey.
I have a feeling the others all around me are not friendly.
They are talking aggressively, in a language I can’t understand.
We are alone.  
In a solitary place.
It’s small, reminding me of a deserted island;
except, there are so many others.
I cannot see trees, or sky.
I only see these agitated figures flailing around.
It’s growing louder.  Their voices.
I still can’t understand them.
Everything is colorless.  Dark.
But I am not dark.
I sense that I don’t yet belong to this darkness, but I am here anyway.
Why am I here?
Who are these people?
I become anxious.
Frustrated, because I can’t understand what’s around me.
The sound is so loud.
Almost like growling.
I feel an urgency to flee, but there’s no where to go.
Then in the rush of fear, I see two people through the crowd of bodies.
They are not dark figures either.
It is them!  
Hallelujah!
I know them!  I know them!
My heart leaps with joy!
I’m so excited over recognizing them.

And then I woke up.

The two people were my ex-husand and his wife.

I understood.  I finally understood.  No matter how much hate I felt for them, it wasn’t enough to keep me from being excited over seeing them in a place like hell.  Not because that’s where I wanted to see them, but because in the midst of all that despair, I was happy to recognize someone I knew.  That put it in loud perspective for me.

The next day, the Holy Spirit dialed my ex-husband’s wife, and before I could change my mind, I asked her out for coffee.

Forgiveness.

It is absolutely required of us, to be forgiven by the Savior.  I’m so thankful for the Holy Spirit.  I’m so thankful for a patient, loving Father.  He wants only what is best for us.  And He doesn’t want anyone to perish without knowing Him and having the chance to accept Him as Lord and Saviour.  I was headed down a very dark, dark path for ten years.  TEN YEARS.  Praise His holy name that I had an opportunity to forgive, and to ask for forgiveness.

Jesus paid a mighty big price for me.

Thank you, God.

He paid the same mighty price for you, too.

He’s waiting.  Patiently.  Is there a nudging you need to yeild to?  You won’t regret it!  The day I was obedient to what was being asked of me is one of the best of my life.  I followed through, and He was glorified because of it.  But the blessing was all mine.  Christ showered me with a joy I had never known before, but one I have known since.  I hope you’ll be obedient to what He is asking of you, too.

 

The sinful nature wants to do evil, which is just the opposite of what the Spirit wants. And the Spirit gives us desires that are the opposite of what the sinful nature desires. These two forces are constantly fighting each other, so you are not free to carry out your good intentions. (Galatians 5:17 NLT)

 

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. (Ezekiel 36:26-27 ESV)

 

For if you forgive people their wrongdoing,  your heavenly Father will forgive you as well.  But if you don’t forgive people, your Father will not forgive your wrongdoing. (Matthew 16:14-15)

28 Apr

Avoid A Void

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , .

Void.

Noun.

A gap or opening.
Empty space.
Vacancy.

Avoid.

Verb.

To keep away from.
Keep clear of.
Shun.

Avoid a void.
You have one.
It’s a Jesus shaped hole.
Nothing else will satisfy.
Nobody.
No thing.
Only Jesus.
He’s waiting.
Invite Him in.
Void avoided.

26 Apr

Wanted & Pursued

Posted by Sherry in Not Food.

Purity.

For the past few months, I have had the priviledge to meet with some pretty cool 7th and 8th grade girls from our church in a discipleship group that gets together on Sunday nights. We call ourselves “The Hill House Girls”. Most recently, I’ve helped lead them through a study on living a life of purity – the “True Love Project” series.  I co-lead with three amazing women, each of whom I am inspired by and in awe of in regards to their relationship with Christ.   When I found out what type of study we’d be entering into with our group of young ladies, the one on purity, I freaked out.

C A P I T A L   F –  freaked out.

“What do I have to offer these girls on purity?”

“I have three sons, not daughters – how can I possibly know how to relate to these precious young daughters of Christ?”

“I didn’t lead a life of purity when I was their age. I didn’t understand there was such a thing! What kind of example can I be for them?”

“This is a topic I’m really not comfortable talking about. With anyone. I should back out.”

I thought all of those things and more. I complained to my husband that I was not good enough to be a leader for these impressionable teenagers. I complained to a leader in the high school girl’s group that I was uncomfortable with this subject matter. I even told my middle son, who is in the high school boy’s discipleship group, that he didn’t have to continue going to his Sunday night group if he was uncomfortable with this purity subject.

C A P I T A L    W  –  what?

You can say it!  Say it out loud:

 “WHAT?”

I totally get that.  It’s what I say now, reflecting back on how I felt at the time.  Could I have been any more off-mark?

After a few days of consideration, and much debate and argument with God, I accepted the challenge and committed to continuing to help lead this group.  The way I figured, I could either

a) decline to teach, and not accept what I saw as a huge challenge (which would be very uncharacteristic of my person)

or

b) accept the opportunity for God to use me outside of where I’m comfortable.

Decline or accept.

Hide or be seen.

Turn away or face.

Ignore or obey.

IGNORE or OBEY.

IGNORE OR OBEY!

See, when I stopped wallowing in my own thoughts, which were very limited, and started seeking what God wanted, the decision became clear.  Crystal clear.

C A P I T A L   C –  clear.

I don’t want to miss an opportunity to be obedient.  And it was no accident I was invited to be a part of this weekly discipleship group.

Thank you, Jesus, for your patience with me while I struggled through my selfish insecurities. 

I might be a co-leader for this group, but above this, I am sitting right there with all the other Hill House Girls every week – His daughter – seeking, searching and being soothed by all I’m learning about His love.

In reflecting over my teenage years and young adulthood,   it’s clear to me how desperately I needed to feel wanted and pursued.  It was a need that I tried to satisfy on my own.   There was this emptiness I carried.  A void.  I filled it temporarily with people who seemed to satisfy this need – those who wanted me, those who pursued me – but the satisfaction never lasted.  Eventually, that “to be wanted and pursued” need would resurface,  unfullfilled.

It wasn’t until I met Jesus – yeilding to His love and studying His word – that I realized I AM wanted and pursued.

JESUS is my Pursuer.

Luke 19:10
For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.

JESUS loves me and JESUS wants me.

John 3:16
For God so loved the world,that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.

JESUS is jealous for me.

Deuteronomy 4:24
For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.  It is only JESUS who satisfies!

I have made some poor choices in my life, and I have not always sought HIM or known that I was being sought by HIM.  But PRAISE HIS HOLY NAME, “I was lost but now am found.”  Through Jesus, it is never too late to live a life of purity, regardless of any past mistakes.  I can walk in His love, hand in hand, without feeling broken, like used goods, or unworthy……for His love is vast, with depth that is unimaginable, and is endless, limitless.  Jesus sees me as pure and clean and whole.

WANTED and PURSUED.

Sons and daughters – YOU are wanted and pursued.  You are!

My precious, precious 7th and 8th grade Hill House Girls and co-leaders – YOU are wanted and pursued.  You are!

It is never too late to walk in purity with Christ.

Accept His love, profess Him as ruler over your life.

Abide in Him.

Receive all of the blessings He’s waiting to shower you with.


I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.   Romans 12:1-2

 

14 Apr

Gettin’ Ready

Posted by Sherry in Not Food. Tagged: , , , .

Why is it that I need to…

  • Fix my hair before I go to the salon for a cut and style?
  • Mop and vacuum the floors before the cleaning service comes to my house?
  • Get “healthier” before I can go to the doctor for a check up?

Doesn’t make sense, does it?
        The stylist is going to fix my hair for me.
        The cleaning service is going to clean my house, including my floors.
        The doctor is going to help me with getting healthier.

I was just thinking about this on the way to work today.

What do I need to do to “get ready” for Jesus?  Anything?  Or am I ready now?

How about you?

13 Mar

Jesus at the Stoplight

Posted by Sherry in Not Food.

The intersection of Second Loop and Irby Street.
8:00am.
Facing east’ish.
At the stoplight.
Car number one in the left lane, with car number one in the right beside me.
The sun is shining so brightly this morning, in clear, cool skies.
I drop the sun visor to sheild my already shaded eyes from the glare.
The car is quiet.
In reflection now, I know why I never turned on WMHK this morning like I usually do.
Can’t really say where my thoughts were.
I’m sure they must have been somewhere.
The car beside me lets off the brakes and ever so slightly rocks forward.
Without looking at the light, I let my foot off the brakes, too, and start to proceed.

WAIT A MINUTE!

I’m thankful for 4WD and the excellent grip of the brakes.
And for the little voice that said, “look up”.

Jesus reminded me in that split second of how easy it is to go along with the flow of this world.

There have been many times that I let what was immediately around me influence my own actions (or rather, reactions), instead of being lead by The Master Himself.

“Keep Me in the forefront, because when I AM, you will react to this world in step with My will for your life.”

It sounds simple, doesn’t it?

Keep Jesus present in the present.

Keep Him at the helm of all movement.

This morning, in the stillness of my car, I was distracted.
I still don’t recall what I was thinking about.
Maybe it was of the coffee I was about to enjoy when I got to the office.
Maybe it was about the task list for the day.
Maybe I was thinking about how much I’d like to still be in bed.
Whatever it was, it was enough to distract me.
And intinct was to do what the car beside me was doing, instead of doing what I should have done.
Instinct.
Ouch.
That hurts my toes.
But you know, failing to focus on the right things when you are driving can be catastrophic.
Failing to focus on Jesus can be, too.

Lord, I love you and thank you for the quiet, strong way you teach me…every day.  I thank you for your patience, as I am certainly not an A+ student.  More like a C- most days.  Some, worse.  Father, I need your help to change this sinful, quick-to-follow-the-world heart into one that instead reacts to this world in a way that is pleasing to you.  I don’t want to be like everyone else.  I dont’ want to blend in.  I don’t want to take the easy way and go along with the crowd.  Father, I want a heart that is noticably changed and different and daily growing in obedience to you.  I can’t change my heart Lord, but I know that You can.  Please take mine and refine it so that it reflects You in all that I do.  Praising Your Name, sweet Jesus, for being with me at the stoplight today, even if I wasn’t with you at first.  Amen.

« Older Entries
Newer Entries »