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Showing posts from May, 2012

Still No Peace

I was about nine when I heard my first prophecy.   I was walking home from school with a friend who mentioned that she heard that someday men will wear their hair long like women and their clothes will be styled the same.   The decade turned. Enter the 60’s.   Tension was high with the Cuban Missile Crisis.   Jackie Kennedy wore pillbox hats.   The Beatles were popular and my favorite song was “I Want to Hold Your Hand!”   I was in my freshman Science class when JFK was assassinated and the whole country went into mourning.   A strong spirit of rebellion entered into the youth. The Supreme Court decided to remove prayer from the public schools.     Drugs, hippies and peace symbols were everywhere.   Headbands and bell bottoms were in!   Sit-ins and anti-war campaigns were found in every city.   Those who didn’t leave the country were drafted.   Our troops were sent to Viet Nam.   I drove a blue 1961 Oldsmobile Starfire Convertible with a fast V8 engine.   “Laugh In” was a

Fallen From Grace

I brought my husband his cup of coffee this morning just before we sat in the den facing the day together with our Bibles.   I told him that our friend, Joni, lost her battle with cancer and passed away.   His response was similar to mine:   “I never could grasp how she could walk away from Jesus.” I can’t tell you how many times I enjoyed sweet fellowship with Joni.   We attended Christian seminars together from our church, served the Lord side by side in Women’s Ministries, and enjoyed intimate lunches sharing secrets from our hearts.   Joni was my doctor, but more importantly she was my friend.   She never got the victory from the bitterness and rejection from her past and eventually it pulled her in the wrong direction.   Her keen intelligence led her away from Jesus rather than to Him.   She began to study intensely the Jewish Roots of our faith.   Little by little, I could tell Joni was discarding the grace Jesus offers and embracing the law of the Old Testament.  

Directions To The Rock of Ages

Our youngest daughter worked her way through college and during the summers   she was employed by a retailer in the mountains of Sedona.   She was an English major and joked often about “words” being her tools!   She is a good writer and speaker and has a charismatic personality, so selling was a natural for her.   I’ll be honest with you.   I was eager for those late night visits with her after a full day at the store because she articulated interesting stories about people she met who traveled to Sedona from every state in the union as well as other countries.   She made it very clear that her duties were more than ringing up purchases and maintaining inventory. She told me that she was an ambassador for Sedona!   She was the one to ask where the best meal could be found in the city, and she knew the best trail to hike.   She steered many a tourist in the right direction. We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implo

Reluctant Banquet Speaker

I’ve attended a lot of women’s luncheons and while most have long been forgotten, I will never forget the spring banquet when Julie spoke. Pat and I were excited about taking a big leap and reaching out to the women in our little town by inviting them to a mother-daughter spring luncheon sponsored by our church’s Women’s Ministry.   We immediately began praying for the right date, the right restaurant, the right theme and the right speaker.   When we agreed on the speaker, we decided to ask her and that was when we hit a snag. We observed Julie and her husband taking her mom to the 9:00 a.m. church service Sunday after Sunday.   Julie and her mom looked like the perfect duo to grace our podium at our banquet-of-the-year.     When asked, Julie said:   “You’ve got to be kidding.   Trust me; you don’t want my mom and me.   We barely like each other.”   I quickly apologized to Julie and admitted I probably had not heard from God correctly during prayer. It was to our b

Bernie's Backyard Bash

A few years back we sold a home to a guy by the name of Bernie who loved to entertain people with big parties.  That’s why he needed a bigger home.  After Bernie settled into his new home, he celebrated with a big backyard bash and we were invited.  I didn’t want to go, but our sales manager, who is also my husband, said:  “We’re going.” When we arrived, Bernie gave us a big hug and whooshed Dice into the den where he pointed to his computer that had big problems.  I suppose I could have hunkered down there bored out of my mind while my husband played tech genius, but I strolled toward the backyard to mingle with about 30 people I’ve never seen before in my life and it was pretty scary.  I passed clusters of women huddled together puffing on cigarettes, a whole bunch of folks accumulating at the makeshift bar, and a circle of cowboys tuning their guitars and drinking beer.  Umm, who among these party folks should I strike up a conversation with?  The answer was no one.