Warmth of the Son

What a brisk morning! Too cold to sit on the porch, so I am enjoying this beautiful morning sitting on my dad's chair.

 I have a table and chair that used to belong to my Dad when he was alive. He would sit and drink his coffee, read the paper, and talk to the neighbors. When Mom sold the house, I asked for the table and chair. On the table I also have his ash tray and I also put a coffee cup. The hanging planter above is an old fishing bucket with metal fish hanging from it. You see, my dad loved to fish.

Sitting here, I feel the breeze, but can also feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I can hear my big wind chime and all the sounds of nature. When I close my eyes, I can even hear the trees.

Funny how the wind is cold, but the sun is so warm. Made me stop and reflect how when we have trials in our life we are not alone. Jesus is always there by our side. He is the warmth on our face. We are never alone. 

 Lord, increase my faith and trust in you. Please tell my dad I miss him and thank him for me for all he did for me.

 

Laughter

Oh, what a glorious day. I have been sitting on my rocking chair enjoying this beautiful morning. I have done my prayers and have been listening to my Peaceful Morning music. I h
ave been reflecting on laughter. Yesterday and Friday evening I attended a woman's conference with my daughter and my friend, and one of the speakers was a comedian. Well, she started her talk by making us laugh, and then out of nowhere went into her life story. Her life had been hard, but when she found Jesus, she found JOY in her life.

It made me think of my favorite picture of Jesus that I have hung in my bathroom. My laughing Jesus.

I think some of us take life's trials too hard. We have to relax more. We need more joy and laughter in our lives. We need to laugh more.

I know two beautiful ladies by the name of Letty. And both are full of laughter. I love their joy and their laughter. One of them posts the funniest things and makes us all laugh. She seems to post them when I need a good laugh.

I sometimes seem to take life too seriously. Tony takes life too easy. I guess we help each other, for I know sometimes he takes it too easy.

Yes, we need to acknowledge life's responsibilities, but we also have to be sure that we have joy in our lives.

 When we have Jesus in our lives and we trust that he will take care of us, life becomes less stressful.
Jesus I trust in you.

Answering the Call

I am sitting here enjoying this glorious fall morning. How I love fall. 

I have been reflecting on yesterday. Tony and I both had doctor appointments. They were several hours apart, so we visited with some friend and family. Since we do not live in town we try to make the most of our time.

I had a great visit with one of my dearest friends. She is one of the two persons who I have review my meditations or talks before I give them. I shared with her how I was now teaching CCD, first year Confirmation. She was most surprised. Yes, I told her I was surprised I accepted. I shared with her why I said yes. 

 You see, the lady who asked me is a very sweet and loving person. I first met her on a trip to Poland. We really did not talk much on that trip. But several months after our return, she called and invited me to join the Garden Club. After we got to know each other, she shared something with me. She said that she had been really sad for some time and that my smile on that trip had brought joy back into her life. She thanked me.

 

Wow, I was shocked. Who would think that a smile could help a stranger? We talked that day and she shared her story. So when she asked me, I told her I would pray on it. She told me she would teach second year and I would teach first year. When the director called, I said yes.

My friend and I laughed. I know my writings have been for adults. I do not know why now I am asked to deliver to teens. But I know that is what our Lord is asking of me. 

Last night, one of the questions was how could they rebel against our culture. One student answered by being good, at first I said no. Then I thought about it and told that student that it was a great answer, for if you are in a group that is known to be bad, being good is a rebellion. Somehow I know that made that student feel good.

 

Last night, we also had a meeting for the parents and students. Several students did not want to stay, but they did. At the meeting, I watched that student. The student's parents were not there, and the student had told me the parents made the student come to class. As I watched the student's face, I could almost hear the student's thoughts. " You make me come, but you could not come."
As I looked at my students and heard what they said, I think I can almost tell which have love and family life and which don't. 

My hope is that somehow I can show God's love to all of them, and that they can feel God's love and presence.

Sometimes we are so quick to label them as bad students, but they need so much love a guidance. We only have them for an hour, but I know God is a powerful God.

 

May He send the Holy Spirit to open their hearts and souls to hear His voice and may he guide my words.

Let us all pray for all our young teens. They are faced with so much in our world today.
Jesus, I trust in you.

 

Waiting on God's Time

Have done my prayers and have just been enjoying my music, have some cd's with morning and evening music, and watching the animals. Watching the animals doing their thing,what is their nature. And doing some reflection on my life.

 Some time back we decided to get involved here in our community. It was hard leaving Saint Mary Magdalene. I had a good talk with Fr Joseph Mary, may he RIP, before we left. He understood. He said he would pray for me, I know he is still praying fo...r me up in heaven. Oh how I miss our talks.
Tony has been on team here and has been teaching CCD. (I had just been involved with the Garden Club. ) I had helped at send off and candlelight. I had been asked to direct a retreat, but due to my schedule I had to refuse.

This year I was asked to be Spiritual Director for the Women's ACTS retreat. It was an awesome experience to get to know all the ladies. I know that was how God wanted me to get to really know the ladies. I know coming in to direct a retreat where no one knows you would have been so hard. I have directed ACTS Missions retreats, but you bring in your team, people you know.

Two weeks ago, I joined the Altar Society. Last week, I joined the Guadalupanas, and I will be teaching CCD this year. 

 Tony and I were talking, and I told him how I regretted not joining before, and not getting involved sooner. Everyone has accepted me with open arms. Tony just said,"It was not the right time."
He was right. It made me think how everything happens in God's time, not our time. God is in control. 

 Maybe Saint Mary Magdalene needed me, or maybe I had to grow more and I needed all that wonderful time with Fr Joseph. 

 It made me reflect on how we sometimes want to rush things, how we want to be in control. But if we just trust in our Lord and let Him have control, all will work out according to His plan.
Jesus I trust in you.

 

Prayer for Our Children

I have been sitting here enjoying this beautiful morning. My favorite season is just around the corner. I have been think about the young 8th grader from New Braunfels, possible suicide. It is so heartbreaking. What could cause someone so young to be so desperate?

I have been reflecting on my 8th grade. Yes, it was a long time ago, but I can remember it as if it was yesterday. It was a wonderful time in my life. I remember looking forward to the 9th grade, to our graduation, to parties, to high school. 

We have 2 grandchildren in the 8th grade. I pray that they enjoy their year as I did. I pray for them and all my grandchildren and great grandchildren. 

 I look at our world, and all that is going on, and I worry about their future. But all I can do is keep them in my prayers and put their lives in God's hands. 

My Lord God, please watch over all my grandchildren and great grandchildren. Help them in school. But especially over Tyler and Hunter who are in the 8th grade. Keep them safe and close to you. May they enjoy this year like I enjoyed my 8th grade. May they look forward to their High School years.
Jesus I trust in you.

News link to the suicide in New Braunfels:
http://news4sanantonio.com/news/local/8th-grader-dies-after-being-bullied-in-new-braunfels

The Story of Me

This week, I began orientation for my online ministerial training program. I have not been in school in over fourteen years, and I have never taken an online class before. It is a new experience, to say the least.

This week, we were assigned to write a brief autobiography, Apparently, we will be required to share this as an introduction to each new class. Tackling this project has left my brain empty of all other creative juices. So, I decided to share my mini autobiography here. Why not? In doing so, I can see how God has shaped my life, and used people, places, and events to lead me here.

. . .

My name is Troy Renee Albracht. Oftentimes, before someone meets me in person, I am often mistaken for a male. I blame my parents, but never get offended when someone asks for “Mr. Albracht.” Before my birth, my parents chose the name Troy Ellen for a girl, and Troy Alan for a boy. When I was born on Monday January 12, 1976, my dad decided he did not like the name Ellen. They named me Renee instead. I was not named after anyone special. My parents simply liked the name.

Everyone called me Troy for the first year or two of my life. Then, the woman who took care of me and my older sister decided to start calling me Renee. My sister’s name is Tori, and our caretaker struggled with Tori and Troy. The name change stuck, and everyone has called me Renee ever since.

I grew up in Garden Ridge, Texas, a small subdivision just north of San Antonio, Texas. I graduated from Canyon High School in New Braunfels, Texas in 1994, and I moved to Nashville, Tennessee in 1997 to pursue a career in music business. However, soon after moving, I discovered I did not enjoy playing the drums enough to do what was necessary to make it as a professional musician. I did, however, marry a professional musician. Sadly, we divorced in 2010.

While settling on a degree in Religion/Youth Ministry from Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee, I worked with Belmont’s Office of Campus Security, rising from student worker to Assistant Chief. In this role, I became heavily involved in crime prevention and training. I became a certified Rape Aggression Defense Instructor, and shortly before leaving Belmont in 2014, I became a certified CPR and First Aid Instructor with the American Heart Association.

In 2012, I was diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. After being in remission for one year, I decided to move back home to Texas, using my training to start my own business, Strong Response—offering affordable training and education options for CPR, First Aid, and Basic Self Defense. Although I love teaching these classes, and although I love the freedom working for myself affords, income is not stable, and I am currently looking for a part-time job to supplement my income.

When I am not working or taking classes, I enjoy volunteering at my church, reading fiction novels, and writing. In my church, I am head usher and the president of our local NMI council. I also volunteer with the women’s ministry and West Avenue Compassion, our food and clothing pantry. My favorite authors are Wally Lamb, John Irving, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky, but I enjoy all kinds of books, except romance and horror. I have written two novels, and am currently working on my third. My stories are about how Christians, too, struggle, but how their faith in Christ helps them overcome their hardships. I hope to be published one day.  I also began working with the Rosetta Stone program to learn to speak Spanish.

I was born and raised Catholic, but I have had many disagreements with the Church which led to me leaving the Catholic Church at the age of sixteen. My first disagreement was because I wanted to become a priest, and I could not understand why they would not let me serve Jesus in this way simply because I was a girl. It took many, many years, but I have been able to forgive the Catholic Church for practices I could not understand, and which hurt me personally. However, I never have returned as a practicing Catholic.

I have always had a special relationship with Jesus Christ. My first memory is of my dad getting so excited because his quiet little girl started singing out loud in church. Jesus has come to me during many dark hours of my life, and I credit Him with saving my life on many occasions.

When I married a Baptist in 1997, I began attending a Baptist Church. It was in this church where I learned about sanctification and about having an intimate relationship with God. Although we were close long before I attended a Baptist Church, I learned about prayer and growing in my faith. I got baptized as an adult in September of 1997.

Early in my career at Belmont University, I worked weekends. The campus was a ghost town on Sunday mornings, so I often spent Sunday mornings sitting in my patrol car listening to the radio. Each Sunday, I listened to Pastor Gary Alan Henecke preach from Nashville First Church of the Nazarene. I was enamored by his preaching-teaching style. I had no idea what a Nazarene was or what they believed, but when I finally got weekends off, I went to Pastor Henecke’s church to check it out for myself.

I fell head-over-heels in love with the missionary and compassionate focus of the Nazarenes. I loved their out-of-the-box style. For the first time in my life, I felt at home, surrounded by people just like me. My musician husband was often on the road on weekends, and even when he was home, he rarely went to church. He supported my desire to make NFCN my new church home.  

When I moved back to Texas, I knew I needed to find a Nazarene Church. I found a home at San Antonio First Church of the Nazarene. During my first visit, the pastor invited me to lunch with him and his family. Others made me feel like I belonged from the very beginning.

This past May, I heard God’s call to full time ministry. I think the call had always been there, from my earliest days when I wanted to be a Catholic priest. However, God used the people of San Antonio First Church to reach me in a way nothing else and no one else ever had. I have found a family at SAF, and look forward to many more years serving Christ with them.

 

Lessons from History

I have been reading “Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Prophet, Martyr, and Spy: A Righteous Gentile vs. The Third Reich” by Eric Metaxas. Bonhoeffer, a theologian and pastor, foresaw the evil of Hitler, and fought, often alone, against the growing threat of the emerging power, and the indifference of the German church, and greater world powers.

This book has opened my eyes to the reality of the Hitler regime, beyond what I thought I understood. The life of Bonhoeffer has challenged how I face my own faith and growing indifference.

Even though I am only half-way through the book, I realize I only knew the Cliff Notes version of events leading up to World War Two. I knew the psychosis of Hitler. I knew about the treatment of the Jews and physical and mental handicapped. I was thoroughly horrified by what went on in the concentration camps, and was baffled by how the rest of the world could allow this to go on.

What I did not realize was how far reaching Hitler’s plans and propaganda reached. This man was not simply psychotic and evil personified. He was intelligent, and calculating, and patient.

What I did not realize was how his influence reached into the heart of the German church, morphing her into a satanic sanctuary, all right under the noses of the world’s Christian leaders. What makes it all more horrifying is how even the most holy, the most devout Christian leaders allowed it to happen, assuming it would all somehow work itself out.

This man, Bonhoeffer, lost friends and made enemies both within the Nazi regime as well as with leaders of his own church because he alone could see what would come if the church continued to remain disinterested in the political climate of the times. His insistence that the church speak up and fight for the foundation upon which the church was built caused unspeakable unrest, and eventually led to his execution before he ever reached the age of forty.

Only years later could the world and the church see what Bonhoeffer saw before Hitler took full reign of his power. As one of Bonhoeffer’s early colleagues, Martin Niemoller, who adamantly separated church and state, later penned while in a concentration camp as a personal prisoner of Hitler:

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a Jew.

And then they came for me—

and there was no one left to speak for me.”

(page 192)

Bonhoeffer, addressing his frustrations with the church in a letter to his friend, Henroid, wrote:

“. . . We must shake off our fear of this world—the cause for Christ is at stake, and are we to be found sleeping? . . . Christ is looking down at us and asking whether there is anyone left who confesses faith in him.”  (page 219)

In addressing the lack of action even after the Nuremberg Laws were initiated, which clearly defined where the Hitler regime stood in regards the Jews, Bonhoeffer made his famous declaration:

“Only he who cries out for the Jews may sing Gregorian chants.”

Metaxas interprets this sentiment by saying, “As far as {Bonhoeffer} was concerned, to dare to sing to God when his chosen people were being beaten and murdered meant that one must also speak out against their suffering. If one was unwilling to do this, God was not interested in one’s worship.” (page 281)

Stinging sentiment, isn’t it?

As I read about this, my jaw dropped and my eyes bulged. Not only could I not believe the church of any era could allow this, I realize, to some extent, nothing has changed. Shamefully, I count myself among those indifferent German Christians, fighting to separate the state of the world with the state of the Church.

In better days, I kept up with the news of the world. Now, however, I am so fed up with hearing about Clinton email scandals, and Trump’s latest foot-in-mouth incident. I’m tired of another police shooting, and the idiocy of people protesting by destroying their own neighborhoods. I’m sick of the latest ISIS suicide bombers, and politicians playing politics, blaming one another instead of coming up with workable solutions. I’ve had enough of politics and violence and the juvenile way our society acts out against atrocities.

How do I handle my frustrations? I watch the first minute or so of CBS Evening News or the news in 90 seconds on CBS Mornings, and get my Cliff Notes version for the day. If there is no new news or no feel-good story, I turn it off.

Doesn’t this, in a way, make me just as pacifist as the German Christians of the 1930s? By not paying attention, can I ignore it and hope it all goes away? After all, none of it has touched my life. I can just as easily re-write Niemoller’s words:

First they came for black lives, and I did not speak out—

because I am not black.

Then they came for the police, and I did not speak out—

because I am not a cop.

Then they came for the refugees, and I did not speak out—

because I am not a refugee.

Will the day soon come when I, too, must say:

And then they came for me—

and there was no one left to speak for me.

Of course, more verses could easily be written, with the same refrain, “. . . and I did not speak out—because I am not . . .”

The unborn child . . .

The sanctity of marriage . . .

Sexual purity . . .

These are just a few issues facing our church, issues many of us Christians ignore because . . . but who will fight for the life of the unborn child if we do not? Who will teach our children about how God defines marriage? Who will teach our teens about the importance of abstaining from sex until marriage? If we do not live according to, and teach according to the words of the Bible, the words of God, who will?

Do we not live by, do we not teach because we no longer believe ourselves, even though we call ourselves Christians? I remind myself and others that the Word of God has not changed. We, alone, have changed. We alone bear the responsibility for the Godlessness of our society.

If we will not speak up and speak out, who will? Trump? Clinton?

Do we leave it up to our pastors? Men like Billy Graham?

Or do we simply continue to keep our eyes closed and hope it all works itself out?

The words of Bonhoeffer are scary to read because they are still true in our world today, and even scarier, they bear some truth in my own life.

Father, I pray, help me, and all others who call themselves Christians, to have the courage of Bonhoeffer, and to speak up in the name of Truth, that we may be justified in singing Gregorian chants.

What's in a Name?

On my way to teach a class yesterday, I listened to the beginning of a sermon on a radio. The preacher discussed the faithfulness of Abraham and questioned how many of us, in his place, would follow God without questioning Him, especially if God asked you to do something so contrary to reason or if what He asks appears to go against a promise He previously made.

“Kill my son? The one you promised? But you said my descendants would be as numerous as the sand on the shore?”  Even though child sacrifice was common in the cultures Abraham lived in, killing the promised son, the promised inheritance made no sense. Yet, without question, Abraham planned to do as told, no questions asked. What faith!

Do I have faith to follow, no questions asked?  “Not I!” I mused.

This familiar take on a familiar story directed my thinking, in a round-about way, to the names of God, and to nicknames in general.

I have many nicknames for my dog. Rarely do I refer to her by her given name, Bailey. Rather, I call her Sugar Bear, Love Bug, Baby, Baby Bear, Stinker Butt, My Heart, My Love, Love. And, what’s so great is that she responds to them all!

I, too, have several nicknames. My nieces and nephews, and a few others, call me Ne-Ne (soft e sound). My parents sometimes call me Re-Ne (hard e sound). My sister often calls me Kiddo. When I was a kid, my dad called me Pumpkin Head. I, too, respond to these nicknames.

God has all kinds of nicknames as well. I once took a class on all the names of God, names used to describe His character. I forgot most of them, but some I remember, such as Elohim (strength), and Adonai (Lord, Master), El Shaddai (all-sufficient one, or almighty). He is also known as The Light, The Word, I Am, Giver of Life, etc.

I most often call Him Father. I sometimes call Him Daddy, but Father is my favorite.

However, after contemplating my lack of unquestioned obedience, I realize that I over use another phrase when speaking with Him. The way I use this phrase, it almost sounds like a nickname:

“Yeabut

Get it?

I question way too much! I will give you a for instance. When I started to feel like He was calling me into ministry, I doubted a lot.

I sat in the sanctuary during the opening service of district assembly. I was in awe of the worship of all the pastors and lay leaders in attendance. I referred to them as “they.”

“I don’t want you to view them as ‘they.’ I want you to be one of them,” God said.

I was pretty sure I knew what He was getting at, but still, I responded, “Yea, but . . .”

Several times during the course of the weekend, I felt that nudge. At first, I embraced it, but as I thought about it, and saw all the reasons why this was not a good idea, I responded, “Yea, but . . .”

“I want you to be a pastor.”

“Yea, but, I’m divorced and I’m a female. Can I really do that?”

“If I am the one calling you, don’t you think I will work that out? Don’t worry about the details.”

“Yea, but I really don’t want to be a preacher. I don’t want to be a youth pastor. What else would I do?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

“Yea, but seriously, I’d really like to know what you have planned. I mean, I really don’t have any interest in going back to school. I mean, I still have all this debt. I don’t even make enough money to pay my monthly bills. How am I going to afford going back to school?”

I imagine God sighing. “Don’t worry about that right now. I am calling you. The rest are just details.”

“Yea, but come on. I’m not like them. What are they going to think? I don’t have a game plan other than that you want me to be a pastor. For what? What do I tell people? I mean, look at my track record. I’ve spent my whole life grabbing at straws. Get excited about something, try it, decide I don’t like it, move on to something else. Won’t people see this as just another one of my silly amount-to-nothing ideas?”

“So? What if they do? I’m the only one you need to answer to. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

“Yea, but what if they are right? What if I talk to Pastor Matt, or Pastor Tim, or Pastor Robert? Then, I decide this isn’t for me, that I heard You wrong and I end up quitting. I don’t want to let them down.”

“I am calling you,” He stresses. “Don’t worry.”

“Yea, but . . . not yet. If I still feel like this is really You calling me when I get home, then I’ll talk to Pastor Robert.”

I go home and try to forget about it, wanting to assume I was merely caught up in all the excitement of the weekend. However, during my prayer time, He calls me again.

“You are home now. I am still calling you. It’s time for you to call Pastor Robert.”

“Yea, but how do I really know it’s You and not just me thinking it would be cool to be a pastor. If this isn’t from You, there is no way I’m going to do this. Being a pastor is a huge deal, and I do not want this responsibility if You are not 100% in this.”

I can sense His frustration with me, but He is kind and understanding. He sighs and laughs as I ask for one more sign. “I know this is asking a lot, but give me one more sign, something I cannot deny is from You, something so obvious that it leaves absolutely no doubt in my mind that You are, indeed, calling me into ministry.” In jest, I suggest He have my dad tell me to be a pastor. After all, my dad rarely ever gives me unsolicited advice.

Later that day, I saw a dirty water stain on the floor in the shape of the cross. I shake my head to heaven. “Yea, but that’s not good enough, I need something more definite.”

On into the afternoon, Bailey and I were sitting outside. A red bird lands near us, is very still, and stares at me. “Okay, that is pretty cool,” I admit. “Red bird—love. Staring at me so intently. You are love. You are trying to get my attention, but . . . I need something more. That’s not good enough.”

What gall to tell God something He does is not good enough. I felt like we were playing a game, like He was teasing me, but on the other hand, what if all this was just in my head? What if God wasn’t a part of this fantasy?

That evening, my dad invited me to dinner with him and his friends. On the way home, we talked about work. Out of nowhere he said, “Why don’t you just become a pastor? That’s pretty much what you do anyway?”

Thank God we were pulling into the driveway. Thank God I was driving. Thank God I had sunglasses on. I brushed off His comment, not ready to share with my dad my inner struggle. However, my heart jumped into my throat.

I pictured God laughing. “Ha! Check mate!” There were no more “Yea, but” arguments left.

As soon as we got inside, I sent Pastor Robert a text and the journey began.

Have I ceased referring to God as “Yeabut” since finally accepting His call? I wish I could say “of course,” but the truth is, I still question God . . . a lot! Thankfully, even though I have rarely had the faith to obey without question, He still loves me, and never gives up on me. He tolerates my unique nickname for Him. After all, I am still a work in progress!

Tending My Prayer Garden

I have been sitting here enjoying the morning. It has been a while since I have been able to do so. It had been too hot.

 I have been looking at my gardens. They really need some attention. It has been so hot I have been unable to give them much attention, and now with all this rain, the weeds are growing, and it is too wet.

 As I was sitting here reflecting, my cat, Manny, brought me a present. He brought me a live mouse and dropped it at my feet, then continued to play with it. Then, my dog, Flacka, takes it away, and she plays with it. They let it go and then catch it. 

Sitting here, now reflecting on all this. What message is our Lord trying to give me?

When I think of my garden, it makes me think of my prayer life. When I let the things of the world overshadow my time with my God, my soul becomes like my garden. It gets full of weeds. I need to give it attention, no matter what is going on in my life. 

And the gift I received? We had been gone on vacation. He was letting me know missed me. He had never brought me a gift before. He always wants attention when I am outside. But today he gave instead of received.

Made me think that we must learn to give without expecting anything in return. We must give our love. 

 As Jesus tells us,"Love one another as I have loved you ."

 (Did not take a picture of my gift, was not expecting it and was not ready )

 

Myriad of Emotions in Paradise

It is the end of our first full day in Manzanillo. The rest of the family still swims and laughs and drinks. I, having only water and soda to drink today, feel the loss of energy as the sun fades in the sky. I cannot keep pace with their revelry.

After a quick shower, I intend to lay in bed reading a book by Wally Lamb which I found in the office last night, a book that, the moment I saw it, I heard a message from God, His way of letting me know everything is and will be okay. (This in itself is a long story, something I do not wish to get into right now.)

Instead, this quiet, secluded space has given my thoughts time to gel as I reflect back upon this day; a myriad of emotions – energized, peaceful, thankful, lonely and surprised.

I am energized.

I must admit. I had reservations about coming to Mexico. Even though I saw the website and heard what to expect, I still had in my mind flashbacks of an old episode of Dateline in which a wealthy man was kidnapped by the drug cartel. I even know someone whose wife was supposedly kidnapped and held for ransom.

We are by no means rich, but we all have two strikes against us.

1)      We are American. Rich by Mexican standards.

2)      We are staying in a very wealthy part of town. Our driver drove us around this morning and showed us a house that the government confiscated from a drug lord. That made me laugh, given my initial trepidation about this trip.

Possible targets for wanna-be kidnappers. However, as soon as we got here, all the anxiety and stress disappeared. The view as the plane descended was enough to make my headache and anxiety vanish. When we got to the house, we all became extremely excited.

I felt like a rock star – minus the wild living. A driver picked us up from the airport. As soon as we pulled up to the house, the door opened and the staff met us with warm towels and margaritas (which I declined). We were given a tour of the grounds before sitting down to a warm meal, after which, the house manager asked what we wanted for breakfast and what else we wanted stocked in the house.

Today, we were fed three amazing meals, and our driver not only took us shopping, but showed us where to go and pointed out great things about the city’s history and culture. While we were out, our housekeeper cleaned our rooms and did our laundry.

The house manager told us we are some of the best guests they have had. We are not demanding and are friendly and treat them with respect. This is like a fairy-tale life for all of us. Most of us are those people in our real lives. I guess that’s what makes it so easy to be nice to them.

Then again, I can see how it would be easy to get caught up in all of this. I, for one, would be afraid to live like the all the time. I don’t think I would like the person it would turn me into – demanding, expectant, disrespectful.

I am at peace.

Because of my boost of energy last night, I had trouble falling asleep, yet I still woke up at my normal time. It was still dark outside so I tried to go back to sleep, but I was too excited to head down to my “prayer palapas,” a hut at the very bottom of the property, a place I claimed as my own prayer spot since I knew no one else cared to venture down that many steps. Going down was the easy part. Coming back up took ambition.

I got up and read my Bible until the sun started to rise. As soon as the faintest hint of light came through my window, I headed for my “prayer palapas.” 

There is a gate that leads to the rocky edge. I opened the gate and sat on a rock ledge. I tried to pray, but I was too overcome by the beauty before me. My prayer was my silent awe. However, I kept imagining me slipping and falling to my death. So, I came back to into the safety of the palapa, and hung my feet over the edge, with the rail protecting me from a fall.

This time, I was able to better concentrate on prayer and God’s creation before me. The magnificent mountains, the boulders below, the sound of the waves crashing against those boulders, and the water rushing back out again.

I remembered how the sound of the ocean relaxes me. I felt so peaceful in His presence.

I am thankful.

I was thankful for God bringing me here even though I had doubts, even though I didn’t want to leave my baby girl, even though I had a thousand things pressing on my mind.

Here, none of that matters right now – the work or lack-there-of, my future, nothing. Right here, right now, that life is on hold. I am reminded of what matters most. My Father. He is here, so real, so alive. I have not felt Him in quite the same way since I went to my beloved monastery in Kentucky. He speaks to me with the sound of the water. He speaks to me by the might of the mountains. He speaks to me in the laughter of my family, their voices carrying as they talk. He speaks to me in the looks and smiles of the house workers. He speaks to me in a culture, and with people different from what I am used to. By leaving the cares of the world behind me, I can hear Him so clearly as He speaks.

For His love and faithfulness, for pulling me out of my self-made turmoil by bringing me here, I am thankful.

I am lonely and surprised.

Feeling lonely came as a complete shock to me. I have been divorced for almost six years. I have been separated for just over six years. In that time, I have never, not once, been lonely in this way. Maybe it is because I am in a sort of paradise. Maybe it is the fact that this is the first family vacation since the divorce that I get to sleep in a bed instead of having to sleep on a couch because I am the only non-married person.

Whatever the reason, for the first time since the divorce, I feel like I am missing out on something. While having my prayer time this morning, I couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to have someone there with me, sharing in this prayer time. Maybe we would just sit there in our own silent prayers. Maybe we would pray together. Maybe we would do a little bit of both.

When we went shopping, I thought it would be nice to share that with someone. I tend to wander off when I get bored, and shopping bores me. One shopping area was right on the beach. While the others shopped, I took my socks and shoes off and stood in the water, staring out into the ocean. I thought how nice it would be to have someone there with me, holding my hand and enjoying this moment.

While in the pool, I stood at the edge and stared at the landscape before me. Again, thinking it would be nice to share all this with. Later, while talking to my step-sister and brother-in-law, seeing them together, hearing their story, I thought, “that wouldn’t be so bad.”

It didn’t hit me until later that this kind of thinking is new for me. For the past 5+ years, I have wanted absolutely nothing to do with relationships ever again. I was adamant that I would never get married ever again. If God wanted me to ever get into another relationship, He was going to have to smack me on the back of the head and plop me onto the unlucky guy’s lap. I would never, of my own volition, go down that path again. As the saying goes, I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Is this a symptom of my decided stance faltering? At this moment, I am torn between two thoughts:

1)      Why not? What would be so wrong with leaving myself open to the possibility?

2)      I sure hope not! I am sure I will go home, away from this paradise, and things will be back to normal. Reason will once again replace this ridiculous sentimentality.

Whatever happens when I get home, one thing is certain. God has restored my soul. I will be ready to once again face reality and follow His will. In every aspect of my life – money, work, school, ministry, and that dreaded “L” word—I leave it all in His capable hands.

 

Instant Redemption from Temple Desecration

For the past few days, I have had a dizzy headache. When it first occurred, my instant trepidation brought to mind worst case scenarios – I had a silent stroke. There is a blood clot in my brain. I have a massive tumor pressing upon the part of my brain which affects balance and vision.

I foresaw how this dizziness would disrupt my life – If it is a blood clot, I will die soon if I do not get immediate help. If a tumor or stroke, I could live a long time yet, but life as I know it will forever change. I could even end up paralyzed or with permanent brain damage.  At the very least, what will I do about my classes this week? If I cannot teach, I cannot make money. If I cannot make money, my bills will not get paid. I am already living on credit and the credit is just about maxed out!

What about my upcoming vacation? This unique opportunity will be as close as I will ever get to seeing how the rich live. Is God telling me I should not indulge in this fancy trip that I would never be able to afford on my own? Will it somehow ruin me to be pampered for a week?

When God miraculously allowed me to feel better long enough to get through my work, I began to remember what a worrier I am and why I am on anti-anxiety medication.

Take a step back. What are some more realistic reasons why I started getting sick?

First, I poisoned my body the day before I started feeling bad. Running around under the hot summer Texas sun all day, I had nothing to drink except my flavored water and a couple Dr. Peppers. I have been doing reasonably well not drinking the sodas, but my dad was back in town, I was happy, and we went out to eat. I made a bad beverage choice. I knew better.

The next day, I spent more time out under the sun helping a friend. I teach CPR and first aid for a living. I know the signs of heat exhaustion. I know if my body loses more water than it takes in, one of the signs is dizziness. Still, it took my anxious mind several days to think this rationally.

I felt worst in the morning. Again, I know that I cannot consume water while I sleep. Therefore, if experiencing heat exhaustion, I would feel worst in the morning before I have a chance to refuel.

The anxiety subsided and I began to feel better as my body began to re-balance. Then, for two nights in a row, no matter how exhausted my body felt, my brain refused to shut down.  Even when I did sleep, it was not a restful sleep.

After two nights of this, the dizzy headaches and trepidation returned. People who go too long without sleep start acting out in odd ways, and lack of sleep can be a symptom/sign of bipolar disorder. Am I becoming bipolar?

While these thoughts whirled through my turbulent head, I read the final chapter of Isaiah.

“This is what the Lord says:

‘Heaven is my throne,

and the earth is my footstool.

Where is the house you will build for me?

Where will my resting place be?

Has not my hand made all these things,

and so they came into being?’

declares the Lord.” Isaiah 66:1-2

And just like that, I realized heat exhaustion was only one cause of my recent sickness. Anxiety itself caused the lack of sleep. What do I have to be anxious about? I’m getting ready to spend a week in a mansion close to the ocean with our own chef and driver. How cool is that?

Yet, I am busy trying to get some things done before I go. I am a little paranoid about the “what-ifs” of going to Mexico. I have heard plenty of really scary stories. Then again, all I have to do is turn on the news to see how bad things can be in my own home city, state, and country.

I will be leaving my baby girl for a week. This causes me all kinds of stress. Will she be okay? Will I be okay? I love her more than anything in the world. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been away from her for this long.

Then, there’s everything I have to do when I get back. I’ll be starting school again. Really? Am I up for this? My decision to go into ministry may not have been a shock to anyone except me, but then again, nobody knows me quite like I do. My prayer life isn’t what I wished it was. I still need to grow in my own faith. Can I do this?  

Then, there’s work. I NEED to find another job when I get back. I want something part-time, flexible that I will enjoy and that will allow me to continue teaching, go to school, and be as involved with my church as I am. Honestly, if I could ever sell my manuscripts, make a living as a writer, and get even more involved with my church and turn all these ideas I have into realities, I would be one happy girl! But, alas, at least for now, that will not be the case. Will I have to give up my time at WAC or other things I cherish in order to pay the bills?

Something very unfortunate recently happened to someone I care about. What this friend is going through dredged up all kinds of things from my own past. I have found myself reanalyzing the last few years of my life – what they made me feel at the time, how I have gotten through it, what I have learned, and things that still haunt me, things I wonder if I will ever overcome. I find myself discussing all these issues with a non-existent counselor or non-existent potential future spouse. Maybe it is time to talk to a real counselor?

Anyway, what does all this have to do with the verse I read this morning?

All of a sudden, it was as if God were shaking His head at me, asking,

“Renee, what are you doing? Why are you putting yourself through all this pointless anxiety? Haven’t you learned by now that you can trust Me? Have I ever let you down before? Why are you worried about money? Haven’t I managed to give you what you need when you need it?

“Why are you stressing out about school? Remember how you used to wish you could get paid be a student forever? You love to learn. And as far as going into ministry, I called you. Trust Me. I know what I’m doing.

“Renee, I know you want to be a writer. After all, who gave you your gift? But, nothing is ever going to happen if you don’t put as much energy into your writing as you give to your anxious thoughts.

“And, will you please let go of the past? You have moved so far beyond divorce and cancer. They no longer define you. You are still torn between thinking it would be nice to get married again someday to dreading that someone may actually fall in love with you again. I know you are afraid. I know you want to protect your heart so that you will never have to face getting hurt, or worse, not being able to be what you think a future husband would want or need. I made you. You are worthy. If it ever happens again, I will lead you to the right man, and he will love you because He will first love me.

“Now, get out of your own head. Return your focus onto Me. Don’t worry about Bailey. She will be just fine. You will be just fine. Enjoy your trip. Relax. Enjoy your family. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

I saw how drinking sodas on a hot day and how giving into anxiety was desecrating my body, this temple of God, just as those selling in the temple of Jerusalem desecrated the house of prayer. I had made my temple of den of robbers, allowing Satan to distract me from the Truth. God reminded me that I am His house of prayer. He spoke to me and restored me all in the blink of an eye.

God’s throne is heaven and the earth is His footstool. No house can contain Him. Yet, He loves me so much that He made His dwelling inside of me. How lucky am I? How lucky are all who call upon the name of the Lord?  

Never Too Old or Too Young

Do you ever feel like an utter and total failure? Everything you try produces absolutely nothing? You have a great idea. The execution of the plan even seems flawless. Yet, somehow, nothing happens. You apply for a job you think it is perfect for you. Then, you receive that rejection. You try and try again, believing you are doing your absolute best with the gifts God gave you. Still, He closes door after door after door. Bills aren’t getting paid. You fall further and further behind. Dreams aren’t coming true. You pray. Your only desire is to be aligned with God’s will. You think you are following God’s will, but still . . . nothing. You feel like Job. You feel like the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. You feel like the disciples after the crucifixion of Christ. You wonder, “Will God ever restore my health and fortune? Will He ever lead me out of the wilderness? Will we ever see Jesus again?”

I admit, I have felt this way most of my life. Even when things go right, I feel like there’s something more. I try for something more only to have the door shut in my face. “But I’m doing this for you, God,” I think. Doesn’t that count for something?

It’s hard not to get discouraged. It’s hard not to wonder if God really meant more for me or if I am doomed to live in this cycle of failure. Or, is this really failure? Is there a purpose I cannot see? Is He preparing me for something greater even now?

I look at friends and family and sometimes become envious. They seem to have it all together. Great families. Certain carriers. Steady income. Stability. Confidence. Assurance. How nice it would be to have what they have.

Is it too late for me? After all, I’m now 40 years old. When I was young, I never wanted the traditional things of life, but I also never thought I’d live to see forty. Now, I’ve beaten cancer and took a leap of faith when I left a secure job to move back home and start over. I must admit, I thought it would be an easy transition, but it has been anything but.

Still, I never lost confidence that God had more for me. There was something waiting for me. I just didn’t know what. I was certain God would tell me when the time was right. In the meantime, I kept trying things and kept failing.

Then, I felt His call on my life to become a full-time minister. Once I got over the initial shock and fear and started telling people, something inside me changed.

All my life, I was somewhat jealous of my sister. When we were young, she was the one all the boys liked. She had all the friends. She was sure and confident about who she was. Things seemed to come easy for her. As an adult, she has an amazing husband and two wonderful boys. Her life still seems so easy and perfect. I didn’t necessarily want what she had, but I wanted the ease and comfort she seemed to have.

I grew up Catholic. From a very early age, the Church and I have been battling. I was bitter and angry with them for some things they did to me either directly or indirectly. Whenever I had to attend a Catholic service for whatever reason, I had a lump in my throat, my stomach churned, my fingers curled into fists, and my jaw clenched. I despised “them.” I tried to forgive them, but I couldn’t.

After I accepted God’s call on my life, my jealousy and anger disappeared. I was able to spend time with my sister and truly enjoy every bit of it without once feeling inferior. I attended a Catholic service with my family and felt calm and relaxed. I could see Christ there as well. It was a strange and glorious feeling to be comfortable in my own skin for the very first time in my life.

Still, as I try to imagine what work of ministry God may call me to, I wonder if I will be too old to start over yet again once I complete the ordination process in a few years. Can God still use me?

Yesterday, I read a children’s missionary book called A Storybook Ending based on real life events. A 13 year old boy was given a last minute seat on a mission trip after another, older boy, broke his leg. A 17 year old boy was not happy about this kid coming, and thought he was worthless, too young and immature to be of any real help.

To make a long story short, he finally found a place to fit in while on the mission trip. Once he got home, an adult whom the kid spoke with briefly called him and asked for his help. A grown-up asked a Canadian kid to help African children!

This seemingly worthless, too young to be useful kid, ended up completely developing and filling 35 libraries for school children in Swaziland, all before he was able to drive!

So, what did I, a 40 year old woman, gain from this book? No matter how others see us or how we see ourselves, we are never too young or too old to be used by and useful to God.

When He calls us, all we have to do is answer. “Here I am, Lord.” He will do the rest.

 

Look for God's Beauty

I have finished my prayers and have been sitting here enjoying the breeze while in some pain. Most of the time, when I water the plants, it is early morning, and I do it in my night gown and sneakers.

 

Well, last time I watered, a wasp flew up my gown and I got bit, and yes, it hurt. This morning, I put on shorts, and after I finished watering the plants, I gave the horses water. While the trough was filling up, I went inside, got coffee, and put on my flip flops.

 

After I turned the water off and was walking up the steps, a red ant got on my big toe, and before I could get it off, it bit me, and yes, it hurts. Will this stop me from watering my plants? No. It must be done. I can not let these two incidents stop me. My flowers need the water, and I love taking care of them. 

 This made me stop and think of our policemen. They are being targeted and they know there is danger, but they must continue to do their job. We must show them that the hatred of a few does not show the respect the rest of the world has for them. We must pray for them. 

 I was sitting here thinking of how the anger and hatred of a few can cause so much pain. We need to have more love and respect for each other.

 How can so few cause so much pain? Why do they have so much anger and hatred? 

As I was having these thoughts, I looked up and saw a quail with her babies walk by. It was as if our Lord was telling me not to focus on the ugly things of life, but on the beauty of life.

Yes we must pray for peace in the world, in our country, in our families, and in our lives. But we must give thanks for all we have and we must make time to enjoy all the beauty God creates around us. 

 Stop, take a big breath and today look for God's beauty in new place.

 

 

The Deep End

I sometimes find prayer difficult. The more pressure I place on myself about my prayers, the more muddled and superficial they become. The more I long to be a great woman of prayer, the easier it is to convince myself that my desire will sometimes suffice as prayer.

In moments such as this, my heart and my head battle. My heart yearns for the fellowship only true, intimate prayer brings. My head convinces me that it is okay for the worries of the day to distract me from purposeful, intentional prayer. After all, I talk to God all the time throughout the day, and that, in and of itself, is prayer.

Still, I know my head is wrong. In moments like this, I am looking for a graceful way to make myself feel better. But, in my heart of hearts, I know why deliberate, planned prayer is necessary. It is through such prayer that I prepare myself for whatever the day ahead may bring. It gives me time to focus on my needs and the needs of others. It takes my focus off of myself and onto my God. It centers me. It grounds me. It keeps me from sin. It provides the means through which I hear from God.

This morning, I woke up later than normal and struggled to start the day. I found my mind wandering as I read the Bible, and I was unable to shift my focus from my to-do list to the most sacred and important task before me, time with my Father.

I gave myself permission to do other things, specifically to take out the trash before it was too late and clean the pool before it got too hot.

As I sat outside contemplating my decision, I looked at the pool and thought I may not need to clean it today. It looked rather clean and inviting already. Then, when I stood and walked to the edge of the pool, I saw the filth. The winds blew countless leaves and blossoms into the pool, littering both the bottom and the top of the water. A dead frog floated on the surface.

I began the tedious, yet relaxing chore of skimming the top. As I did so, I shared my prayer struggles with God. He used the pool to illustrate the importance and value of prayer.

From a distance, the pool appeared to be blemish free. However, up close, I could see the tiniest of specks floating in the water.

From a distance, we, too, may look flawless, the model of perfect Christianity.  However, we all have our hidden stains and sins, some buried in the deepest parts, and some still floating on the surface.

If I failed to clean the pool, the dirt and debris would eventually rot the pool as bacteria and algae grew, taking over, turning the beautiful blue water green, and making it uninviting and toxic.

If we fail to give God our undivided attention in prayer, if we make excuses for why we fail to pray, the sin we put away a long time ago may resurface and grow. Those things we still struggle with will take root and flourish. We, too, will soon become uninviting and toxic.

Thank You, Father, for reminding me of the importance of my morning prayer time. Thank You, Father, for showing me the sin in making excuses. Thank You, Father, for using this illustration to speak to me.