Tag: Christian LIving

Thanksgiving

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Today is the day when women across the country are in motion.  If we haven’t already, we are cleaning our houses, picking up groceries, preparing our turkeys, and getting the guest room ready.  Even the slow-risers among us, yes, even me, fly out of bed on a day like today to start the to-do list in order to be ready for the big day tomorrow — Thanksgiving Day.

  • run to post office
  • exercise
  • get groceries
  • make pie
  • change sheets in guest room
  • prepare turkey
  • make green bean casserole
  • dust
  • vacuum

Does your list look similar?  We hustle and bustle to get things just right.  We may get a little snippy with the people around us, but, come on, we have a lot to do!  Anybody can see that!  Do they think that golden turkey just magically appears in the middle of a beautifully decorated dining room table?  Did that pie make itself?  I don’t think so!

Been there?  Yeah, me too.

Can today be different?  I hope so.  It has started out differently already.

I did burst forth from my bed and prepare several packages to be mailed.  But, while I was doing that, my husband tackled the ant invasion in the kitchen (ants?!?!? in November!?!?), then changed one set of sheets and cleaned the bathroom.  (Yes, I do realize I have a winner.)  I put sweet potatoes in the oven to roast and then read my devotion.  In a bit, I will drop off those packages on my way to the gym, then pick up the items I need from the grocery store. I’ll come home and prepare my green bean casserole and make a pumpkin pie.  I can probably convince my son to vacuum, but I will likely have to dust.  And then, I think I will sip tea while I wait for the arrival of our daughter.

Yes, it’s still going to be a big day.  And, I have to admit that I’m already in a significant amount of pain before the day has even started. But, I am going to try to take a different approach.  In the past, I have launched forth, guns blazing, conquering my to-do list as though I was in mortal combat.  Today?  Today I am going to move slowly. I’m going to look in the eyes of the postal clerk when he asks me if I’d like to insure my packages. I’m going to smile at the gym attendant who swipes my card when I enter.  I am going to allow others at the grocery store to go ahead of me in line and not get exasperated with the ones who are cranky (I’ve been there).  Then, I am going to come home and play my music loudly while I do my cooking.

Throughout it all I am going to be praying — for safe travel for our daughter and all others who are on the roads or in the air today, for a cloud of thankfulness to cover our celebration tomorrow, for special blessings on the family who can’t be with us, for health and healing for everyone we know and love, and for peace beyond my comprehension to cover me as I move through my day.

And I’m also going to be thanking — for this grace period, for a beautiful immediate and extended family, for a husband who cleans the bathroom and conquers ants, for my little house by the river, for this next chapter. 

Philipians 4:6

Do not be anxious about anything,

but in every situation, by prayer and petition,

with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Loved by God

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I wrote this piece in November 2014, very early in my blogging days, when I was still hitting the space bar twice after every period and when I could say all I wanted to say in 800 words or less. I stumbled across it this morning, and I needed to hear what it had to say about putting people in boxes, about judging, about remembering that all of us are loved by God.

I have a bad habit — I’m a labeler. I tend to put people in boxes and sort them — liberal, conservative, Christian, non-Christian, rich, poor, smart, stupid, white, black. It’s very limiting. When I place people in a box marked ‘liberal’, for instance, a whole bunch of stuff gets stuck on them that may or may not have anything to do with them. Same thing happens in the conservative box.

I like to hang out with people in some boxes, but not necessarily those in others. I feel comfortable when tossed in with ‘smart’ people, for example, but somewhat self-conscious when mixing with ‘rich’ people. When I mingle with ‘black’ people I feel cool, but when I mix with ‘white’ people (even though I, myself, am white) I feel boring. I have even created boxes such as ‘too-rich’, ‘too-white’, and ‘extremely conservative’. Those boxes are placed on very high, or very low, shelves so that my access to them is limited. I probably wouldn’t mix with ‘those people’ very well, now, would I?

This bad habit impacts the richness of my life. It keeps me away from many groups of people, from diverse opinions, and from new ways of thinking. It causes me to think that I am better than those who somehow don’t fit in the same boxes that I fit in. It sometimes even makes me feel afraid. I mean, if I have labeled others, certainly they have labeled me. Surely they have put me in a box full of stuff that doesn’t necessarily apply to me. Of course they have judged me.

I hate being labeled. I wish people would just get to know me and value me for the person I am, but it’s kind of hard for them to do that if I’ve already stuck them in a box, passed judgment on them, and shoved them far away from my reach. Isn’t it?

I guess if I want others to get to know the true me I may have to invest in getting to know the true them. After all, not all those I have dumped in the ‘Christian’ box think exactly the way I do, vote the way I do, or even worship the way I do. Not everyone in the ‘stupid’ box is actually ‘stupid’. In fact, probably no one that I have placed in that box is truly ‘stupid’, maybe I’ve put them there simply because they don’t see things the way I do.

Maybe I’m stuck in someone else’s box that they have marked ‘stupid’.

I think I’m going to have to recycle all my boxes. Once out of the boxes, everyone could be free to move around, mingle, and see the deep richness and complexity of God’s creation.We are so diverse, so multifaceted, so surprisingly creative, yet we all have one thing in common — we are created by and loved by God. It seems to me that everything else is irrelevant, don’t you agree? He created each of us. He loves each of us. He doesn’t rate us or sort us based on skin color, political orientation, body shape, or socio-economic status. He looks at His kids and He loves us, even when we actively announce that we under no circumstances love Him.

He doesn’t have a favorite. In fact, He would love it if we all tried to share our toys and get along with one another. He hopes that we will see Him in one another and grow to love one another. He has created us to complement one another and to encourage one another — not to judge one another, not to label one another, not to put one another in boxes.

So what do you say, want to take a trip to the recycling center with me? Want to try a new way — get rid of some boxes, destroy some labels, and have a cup of tea? First cup’s on me.

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.

I John 4:7-8

God loves me dearly, a re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I’m re-visiting this post from November 2015 because ’tis the season of nostalgia. I have such fond memories of my childhood Christmases and many of the center around music. This Christmas hymn sank deep into my fibers way, way back, and its truth is an anchor for me today.

I can still hear us sing-shouting the words:

God loves me dearly, grants me salvation

God loves me dearly, loves even me…

I was standing in the front of the church dressed in my Christmas finest — floor-length dress with plaid skirt and white ‘blouse’ top, black patent-leather shoes, white tights, and a bow in my hair. The place was packed. We had practiced and memorized each word to each song and all the words of the Christmas story…”And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field…” Our grandparents had driven an hour to see the event.  

This. Night. Was. Special.  The most important night of the year.

He sent forth Jesus, my dear Redeemer

He sent forth Jesus, and set me free…

Mrs. Hollenbeck had stood in front of us week after week making sure that we knew each word, enunciated clearly, and sang as loudly as we could. She smiled when we sang and always said, “Good job!” One by one we stood in front of the microphone and shared our lines as loudly and clearly as we could…

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David…” The most important night ever.

Now I will praise you, O love Eternal

Now I will praise you, all my life long…

When every song had been sung and every line had been said, we processed down the middle aisle to the back of the church where the elders stood smiling at us, holding brown paper lunch bags that were filled with peanuts in the shell, one big orange, one beautiful apple, a candy cane, and a few other Christmas candies. This bag was pure gold. The narthex (usually called a fellowship hall now) was crammed with families and coats and hugs and smiles. We bundled up and were transported from bliss to bliss…from church to Christmas Eve merriment at home.

The best night of the year.

Therefore I’ll say again, God loves me dearly,

God loves me dearly, loves even me.

Yesterday we were visiting my in-laws and worshipping with them at their little country church in the middle of Michigan’s Thumb. We sang this song, even though it’s not Christmas Eve, and as we sang it, I was transported back in time to the front of Zion Lutheran Church in the early 1970s. I was standing with all my siblings and all the other children of the church, saying lines and singing songs that would sink down into the fabric of my soul and would begin to define who I am.

I was reminded yesterday of that — of who I am. I am more than wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, writer, teacher…I am a child of God.

And God loves me dearly, loves even me.

For God so loved the world [and me and you], that He gave His only Son…”

John 3:16

Saved from our distress

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Psalm 107:10ff

Some sat in darkness, in utter darkness, prisoners in iron chains

because they rebelled against God’s commands

and despised the plans of the Most High

That sounds serious, doesn’t it?  Certainly no Christian would rebel against God’s commands or despise the plans of the most high.  Come on, after all that God has done for us, would we go against His will?  Probably only out of ignorance, right?  We wouldn’t willfully rebel….

Would we?

I have lost track of how many times I have used this blog as a confessional.  I think what started as a chronicle of my journey after teaching in St. Louis has become an expose’ of my internal life.  I wasn’t planning on that.

But, as I have mentioned, I am a little obsessed with telling the truth…whether or not you, or I, want to hear it.

So, you know that book on prayer that I picked up at the library?  Whispers of Hope: 10 Weeks of Devotional Prayer?  Yeah, well, I think it was written with me in mind.  It was copyrighted in 2013, before I knew that I would be moving to Michigan, before I knew I would be leaving my job, before I knew that I would be given this grace period.  Yet, it seems that each day the message is specifically for me, designed to call me back from whatever it was that I thought I was accomplishing in my soldiering years.

I knew better.  I knew that what I really needed was daily time in God’s Word, daily prayer, regular support from friends, but I chose, over and over again, to ignore those facts and keep soldiering on by my own strength. And I found out I am pretty strong, but not strong enough.

Nobody is, really.  We were designed by a Creator who wants to continue to help us, who wants relationship with us, who doesn’t want us to go it alone.  He’ll let us give it a try, yet He won’t leave our side while we are trying.  Even more, miraculously, graciously, He will be ready to talk even before we are ready.  He will be placing things in the path that direct us back to Him.  But, you know, sometimes we want to sit in the darkness, in chains, because we’re being willful.  And stubborn.

And, even then, He pursues us.  Psalm 107 says that He sometimes “subjects [us] to bitter labor”, or maybe lets us get utterly exhausted in all our striving and soldiering.   We “stumble, and there [is] no one to help.”  So, finally, (sheesh), we “cry to the Lord in [our] trouble, and he [saves us] from our distress.”

Yup.  That was my Bible study today.  The only thing is, I didn’t quite get to the point that I was crying out in my distress…He met me before that.  He swooped in and took me out of my soldiering. He gave me some time to be still, so that I would know, more than ever, that He is God.  Let Him be exalted.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love,

and His wonderful deeds for mankind.

Relentless

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

The past couple of weeks I’ve been a little anxious about a tiny detail in my life — my Bible study.  Ok, it’s not a tiny detail.  It’s a major part of the structure of my day.  I’ve told you again and again about how I get up, feed the dog, make my tea, do my Bible study, and write my blog.  It’s my routine.  And, guys, I got to the end of my Bible study! It was an eight-week course that required homework five days a week and a weekly gathering with the girls!  Now, we are going to continue meeting, but our weekly gatherings are lagging a little behind the daily study, so we need a couple of weeks to catch up in class before we start the next book.

And I need homework — now!

I’ve been looking online for a book study that I can do on my own.  I’ve also checked at the library.  But, I just haven’t found anything.

I got up this morning and had some time to do my routine when I realized that (gasp!) I don’t have a Bible study!!!

So, I thought, certainly there is a solution.  I went to my old standby Biblegateway.com and clicked on ‘devotionals’.  And, a few clicks later found a study for women that drew me in.  It’s topic? Nehemiah and prayer.

Yes, yes, I hear you, God.  I know that it’s good that I have added back the spiritual discipline of Bible study, and I am also aware that although we have spoken to each other recently, we need to start having some daily conversations. 

Isn’t it amazing that after all this time God still wants to hear from me every day? I really used to be pretty faithful in prayer.  In fact it was pretty standard for my husband and me to join the prayer team about the minute we joined a church.  Not sure why it was at the seminary that my prayer life faltered, but it happened.   Sure, I still prayed at the beginning of each class period with my students and I bowed my head in prayer at church, but I wasn’t having those daily bare-my-heart to God conversations.  And I’m still not.

But that hasn’t kept God from pursuing me, has it?  A few years ago, my husband was pressing me and pressing me to have a small group Bible study in our home.  Our family was a bit of a mess at the time; our marriage was a bit of a mess, too, if I’m really going to be honest.  Why, on earth, would I want to welcome people into that?

My husband was tired of me putting him off, so he finally said, “this Monday, three guys are coming over at 7:00pm for Bible study, you can join us or not.”  Well, ok, then.  You should’ve seen these three young single guys — a future pastor, a future doctor, and a future physician’s assistant — standing in my kitchen, grinning.  I asked if they had had anything to eat, of course they hadn’t.  Before I knew what was happening, I had committed to making dinner for them every Monday.

It wasn’t long before three guys turned into twenty young adults — seminarians, med students, scientists, and young professionals. Every week they sat around my livingroom — in furniture and on the floor — studying the Bible,  eating, petting Chester, singing, and praying.  I’ve told them, but I’m sure they don’t fully understand, that they were a tool of God to begin the healing in our marriage and in our family.  They were the most difficult group for me to leave in St. Louis.  They were an unexpected gift from God.

And so is my group of sixteen or more lovely Wednesday morning ladies.  This, from the self-described butt-kickin’, name-takin’ soldier who doesn’t need anybody thankyouverymuch.

I read the devotion on Nehemiah and prayer.  At the bottom of the page, part of the actual devotion, were these words…”consider joining our free four-week Bible study on prayer…it starts today, November 17.”

Seriously?  His pursuit is that relentless? Yup.

I went on Amazon, I bought the book, I signed up for the daily email reminders. Guys, I think God wants to hear from me every day.  Starting today.

I Thessalonians 5:17

pray continually

Jumping in

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I Samuel 15:25

Now I beg you, forgive my sin and come back with me,

so that [we] may worship [and serve] the Lord.

Sometimes I get excited.  It’s kind of like when I was a little girl and our family drove to a nearby lake to swim for the day.  As soon as the car was put into P for Park, I leapt from the car and ran for the water.  I was too excited to think about applying sunscreen, grabbing my towel, or helping to carry the picnic basket or blankets to the sandy beach.  I was focused on getting in that water. Period.

This past week a friend mentioned a project she was getting involved in with another mutual friend — making hygiene kits for school-aged girls in Kenya.  She explained that it is not unusual for young girls to miss up to two months of school because they have to stay home when they menstruate due to lack of feminine supplies.  These girls use whatever is available, which may even be leaves, to protect their clothing. Such arrangements hardly make school attendance feasible. So, an organization has created a way to provide enough supplies in a small drawstring bag to be used, washed, and re-used for up to three years!  My friend explained that our mutual friend was leading the charge to complete as many kits as possible by March.

Later that day she sent me a link to a website and I was off and running!  Before I knew it, I had friends in three states enlisted for the cause, a Google spreadsheet to chart our progress, and a donation through Paypal to get us started!  Yesterday I took that money, went to a thrift shop and bought enough fabric for several draw string bags and ordered enough flannel to make a ton of pads for the waterproof liners that my friend is getting started on.  I heard about this project on Wednesday and by Friday night I had cut out enough fabric for 10 bags!  I was in the water!

My friend emailed me this afternoon and told me that her sister, in yet another state, would like to be involved, too!  And then it hit me.  This is my friend’s project, and I had bulldozed my way into leadership!  I had forgotten my sunscreen and towel! Now, my friend is very gracious — she hasn’t mentioned that she feels bulldozed, but my little internal red flag has popped up and is waving like crazy.

When I was a little girl, my mom would make sure I had a towel, lunch, drinks, and maybe even sunscreen (it was the 1970s, come on!) so I didn’t usually pay too high a price for my lake-side excitement.  Over the years, though, I have learned that when I don’t pause before I run in, I sometimes trample people in my path.  Now, I have made some pretty cool things happen in my life, but not always without hurting the feelings of the people around me.

So, let me go on record to say, I’m sorry if I’ve ever bulldozed you.  I love being excited, and I love when you are excited with me, and I really do want you to join me in making cool things happen.  So, I’m sorry that instead of joining you in your project I grabbed it and made it my project.  At least in this case, can it be our project?  I’ll try to calm down a little bit so that I can enjoy the journey and the people God has placed on it with me.  After all, it’s really His project, isn’t it.  Yes, Kristin, it’s my project. Not yours.  Oh, right.  It’s just a small part of my current assignment.

But guys, I am so excited about this project!  Maybe you want to get excited, too!  Here’s the link: http://www.daysforgirls.org/

Luke 3:11

Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none,

and anyone who has food should do the same.

My assignment

~ Kristin ~ 4 Comments

Several weeks ago I jokingly said to a young blogging friend of ours, “If I could get paid to blog I would be all set!”  He mentioned that actually people do get paid to blog and that if I could get Google ads and increase my readership I could actually make an income through my writing.

Intriguing.  However, since my blog is mostly me musing about my own rather ordinary life, I am pretty shocked when anyone else reads it, let alone when someone comments that it spoke to them, let alone when I get over 100 views in one day (that happened this week!).  There’s something pure about doing this because I want to, and not because I’m getting paid to do it. And actually, it’s not just that I want to, I’m still pretty compelled to write this blog almost every day, even after 107 posts!  I keep thinking I will run out of things to say, but you know, life keeps happening and God keeps showing up.  So, I keep writing.

About a month or so ago, I was bored one day and I started looking at what you need to do to get Google ads.  Step one, purchase your domain name.  Ok, so for $24 I purchased the domain name kristinsnextchapter.com.  As soon as I did that Word Press said they would be in contact with me when I had enough activity to warrant them giving me ads.  Sigh.  I figure I have to have 1000 views or so each day before that happens. My visions of living in my pajamas started fading fast.

But this morning when I checked my messages, a friend commented that she saw ads on my blog when she read it last night.  What?!  And, guys, they weren’t the sort of ads that I would endorse.  Nothing scandalous, to be sure, but not something I would select if given a choice.  Now, I have gone to my domain through several channels this morning and I do not see any ads.  Do you see ads?

Way back in July I started this blog because I had a lot of words inside of me that were pressing to get out. I was anxious about this move to Michigan and not knowing what I would be doing here.  For the past three and a half months, this blog has been the vehicle through which I have processed thoughts of transition, joy, frustration, happiness, fatigue, peace, loss, and hope.  I can’t place a value on how much it has meant to me to have the freedom and time to write every day.  I can’t tell you what I would pay for the kind of encouragement your feedback has given me.  This blog has been a priceless gift to me.

So, the thought that it might have been tarnished by ads was like an ink spot on a favorite white blouse.  Dear Word Press, don’t mess up my favorite blouse!

Ah, child, I gave you the blouse.  Keep wearing it.  It’s from me. If someone spills ink on it, I’ll use that, too.  I’ll let you know when it’s time to put on a different blouse. 

Yesterday all the gals from our Bible study sat together at the funeral for our friend’s husband. He had been diagnosed in 1997 with Alzheimer’s.  She had joyfully — amazingly joyfully — cared for him all these years, especially the last five.  She held his hand, prayed with him, sang to him, lifted him, dressed him, and was fully devoted to his care.  You should’ve seen her beam as she walked into and, later, out of the sanctuary accompanied by bagpipe music. The service was a celebration of life and, let me tell you, she was not going to miss out on the celebration of knowing that her husband was no longer suffering. Someone asked her if she will get back to the pottery that she loves to do now that she won’t be caring for her husband.  She smiled and said, “I don’t know; I’m waiting for my next assignment.”

Right now, ads or no ads,  this is my assignment.

Colossians 3:23

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart,

as working for the Lord, not for human masters.

Rescued by Grace

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Born and raised in a Wisconsin Synod Lutheran Church, I didn’t grow up hearing testimonies.  We walked into church reverently, sat quietly on a wooden pew, tried to behave through the sermon, sang the liturgy and all the hymns, and shook the pastor’s hand on the way out.  It sounds rather non-emotional and stark, but still today if I hear that old liturgy or any of the old hymns I feel as though I have gone home and peace floods my soul.

But testimonies?  No.  The only person who spoke in church was the pastor.

So imagine my intrigue over the years when I attended church with friends — Nazarene, Assembly of God, Church of Christ, Church of God in Christ, Missionary Baptist — where others not only read the Scripture, but burst out of the pew from time to time to share a ‘testimony’.  I am sure my eyes were wide the first time I saw someone stand before the congregation declaring how God had rescued him from whatever peril he had been chasing, but over the years I have experienced a variety of forms of worship and not much surprises me any more.

God’s pretty amazing.  He shows up in a very formal Wisconsin Synod worship service, and He shows up in lot of other places, too!  And, get this, they aren’t all church.  He meets us wherever we we have need.

Years ago someone challenged me to write out my testimony.  I did.  I have misplaced it over the years, but I remember I titled it ‘Rescued by Grace’.  So, this morning when I was reading the last lesson in my Bible study workbook and the topic was ‘grace’, I was reminded of the different places that God has shown up in my life. So, kids, buckle up, I’m bursting from my pew.

The first time that I am aware of being Rescued by Grace was the day I was born.  My mother is only 5’2″ and I, her largest baby at 8 lbs. 13 oz., was trapped in the birth canal.  The doctor in the delivery room didn’t know how to get me out, but if I have the story right, it just so happened (you might read that as ‘it came to pass’) that a specialist was at the small community hospital in rural Michigan.  He swooped in and delivered me with forceps.  Rescued by Grace.

While I was in elementary school, my dad was a traveling salesman (not like Harold Hill, although his name is Harold, he was a respectable hardware salesman).  He was gone a lot and my mother also worked part-time.  I needed a safe place to play after school, and there was a family at the end of our street who had a daughter my age.  Her mother worked from home caring for her disabled husband and specially challenged adult daughter.  Almost every day after school I went to this house as though it were my own.  If money changed hands, I never knew about it.  What I knew is that I was safe and loved unconditionally.  I could be a real pistol to my friend and also to her mother, but they hung in there and loved me unfailingly. Rescued by Grace.

As a young adolescent, recently tossed about by my parents’ divorce and subsequent remarriages, I found stability through my confirmation classes.  It’s true.  It was the late 1970s and my pastor was fresh from the seminary.  He convinced me through his comments in class and in my confirmation workbook (which I still have) that I was called by God. So later, when I found myself distracted and hurting on a detour that landed me at a large university, I was able to hear that call myself and get back on the path to professional church work by transferring to a small Lutheran college.  Rescued by Grace.

Now, by the time I transferred I had a full-blown eating disorder.  But, God had placed me in a very small place where I could not go unnoticed.  In fact, every day when I dropped by the nurse’s office to weigh myself, she engaged me in conversation, not about my weight, but about my life.  So a year after I transferred, when I walked into her office and said, “I can’t do this any more,” she lifted up a card that had been sitting on her desk for who knows how long and, with me, called the eating disorders clinic and got me an appointment the next day.  Rescued by Grace.

I mean it goes on and on.  I see that I am now at over 700 words and I am not sure how much longer you will read.  But surely you have seen through this blog how the rescuing continues.  I was soldiering on in St. Louis over the past several years, trying to hold my life together “by myself, thank you very much” (the toddler comes out from time to time) and God swooped in.  A friend sent a note pointing out a position that truly is perfect for my husband. She didn’t have to, but she listened to the prodding of the Spirit and was a small cog in the wheel that was planning to Rescue me by Grace once again.

I’m probably going to have to turn this one into a book because as I write the situations keep popping into my head.  Our God is relentless in pursuing us, kids.  He doesn’t care how stubborn you are.  He doesn’t care if your church doesn’t share testimonies publicly.  He is going to keep coming after you, waiting for the day that you will turn and run to Him.

Luke 15: 20

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him, and kissed him.

Music

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

A video is circulating on Facebook that shows a young man sitting quietly at  baseball game when Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” begins to blast from the speakers.  The music pulls him out of his seat and he is transformed into an exuberant happiness machine — moving among those seated around him, touching them and hugging them.  The people are not troubled by this, as you might expect.  The music has transformed them, too — they are touched by the young man’s happiness and willing to be part of his experience.

Music transforms us. 

I’ve always loved riding in the car with my daughter.  Something about moving along the highway, windows down and radio blaring, frees her from her stresses.  She sings loudly and passionately with everything from  Queen to Billy Joel to Young the Giant to David Crowder to The Black Keys.  For a while, she kept a cowboy hat in the back seat so that she could pop it on her head when she drove to signify this freedom from life’s troubles and pure abandonment to the music.

Music frees us. 

This morning at Bible study, one of our ladies came in weeping as she announced that a close friend has just a short time to live.  Many shared their condolences.  Later, as we closed our time together, we had a corporate prayer as we always do.  Women took turns lifting their praises, thanks, concerns, and requests.  The time was winding to a close when the woman whose friend is dying said, “forgive me, a song just came to me.”  She began to sing and several around the table hummed along, joining her in worship.

Music consoles us. 

Also at Bible study this morning was a woman whose husband left his life with Alzheimer’s last week to start his life in Heaven.  She was beaming when she entered the room.  She had labored with him for five hard years and was so relieved that his battle was over. She pulled a folded paper from her purse that she had found this morning in her husband’s Bible — it noted the date and time when he had accepted Jesus as his Savior.  She said, “Isn’t that wonderful?!”  She asked us if we would join her tomorrow at her husband’s funeral.  “Won’t it be fun?!”  she exclaimed.

I knew what she was talking about because she attended the funeral for my dear friend just a few weeks ago.  I happened to catch her out of the corner of my eye as the praise music played.  I knew that at the time her husband was at home with hospice workers, but I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that from looking at her.  As she sang the songs, her hands were raised and her smile was wide.  I know she is looking forward to experiencing that again tomorrow.

Music transports us. 

Yesterday morning I attended a chapel service commemorating Veteran’s Day.  A few dozen veterans, some from World War II, some from Korea and Vietnam, some from the Gulf Wars, and some just starting their service, were seated near the front of the huge sanctuary.  The choir sang “O, Beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain…”  As they sang verse after verse, I began to hear the voices of those seated around me –men and women in uniforms, jackets, and vests, denoting their service — began to sing along.  At first it was quiet, but it built, unashamedly — that song of unity.

Music unites us. 

It’s a gift, isn’t it.  We don’t need it, surely.  It’s an unnecessary blessing that breathes life into us, refreshes us, and inspires us.  Thank you, God, for music.

Psalm 96:1

Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.

Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day.

faulty filtering

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I am writing a different way this morning – drafting on Microsoft Word. I returned from a weekend trip to find that our Internet is not working. So, in a little bit, if it is still down, I will drag my laptop to the library to connect and post this.

Drafting on Microsoft after months of blogging directly through WordPress is like using a typewriter after having a computer. Ok, not really. Actually there is really no difference other than my perception. I am still hitting the same keys on the same laptop, but it looks different! My screen is the blank document of Word instead of the ‘live’ page of my blog. Ultimately you won’t notice any difference – I will cut and paste this onto my blog and you will read it, or not. You wouldn’t even know I was on Word right now if I didn’t tell you. But by now you know, I HAVE GOT TO TELL YOU! I have to say EVERYTHING! I don’t know why, I have a horrible time holding anything back.

As a matter of fact, last night I met some new people. First of all let me say that Friday and Saturday I drove to Cincinnati and back, attended my daughter-in-law’s baby shower, stayed up late watching Michigan State lose to Ohio State, went to church, then out to lunch, took my mother back to Lansing, and then, and then, at 7:00pm I went out with my husband to meet new people.

I never do very well holding back my opinion about anything, but when I am tired, and you know I was tired, my filter is very weak. By the grace of God, I didn’t say anything that was particularly offensive, but I have a feeling that these people got to know me better in two hours than I may have originally preferred.

You know how in polite conversation people ask you things like “So, what do you do?” “How many children do you have?” “How do you like Ann Arbor?” Then, in response, we have polite answers like “I am a teacher.” “We have four children.” “I love Ann Arbor.” These types of answers keep the conversation moving forward and don’t cause anyone to look at you like you have three eyes.

Well, I think I may have said some things that suggested I have three eyes. Don’t get me wrong; the people we met were lovely. In fact, one of them told a story that had me laughing so hard I practically stopped breathing (which is, by the way, one of my favorite things to do). But several times in conversation I noticed the others looking at me immediately after I spoke with an expression like, “Did she really just say that out loud?” Each time it happened I tried to rewind my words and replay them in my head to see why what I had said had had that effect, but for the life of me, I couldn’t do it. The conversation kept moving forward, (thankfully!), and I wasn’t able to attend to both the moving forward and the rewinding. So, I honestly don’t know what I said.

Now, my husband was sitting right next to me, so if it was really bad, he would’ve said something to me either right there, or on the way home. He didn’t. We both recalled the funny story and laughed again. So, I at least know that I wasn’t offensive in any way. Phew!

My sister-in-law teaches fourth grade. She says in her sweet fourth-grade-teacher voice, “Not everything that pops into your head has to come out of your mouth. It is good to use a filter.” Trust me, I filter. (Again, thankfully!) But I am definitely a truth-teller. Sometimes filtering and truth-telling are in opposition to one another.

I don’t lie. I can’t. I used to. A lot. All my lies are gone.

All I have left is the truth. So, filter I must. And in order to filter,I need grace.

It seems that my gracefulness is more abundant when I am well-rested. So, rest I must.

Resting too much makes me bored. Driving to baby showers and watching late-night football is fun! I like to have fun!

Having fun makes me tired. Being tired causes faulty filtering. Out comes the truth, not necessarily gracefully.

Oy vey.

The good news is that these new friends all hugged us at the end of the evening and said “nice to finally meet you!” So perhaps in my limited gracefulness, their grace was abundant. Perhaps they were able to ‘overlook a multitude of sins’ for me. I will have to remember to go and do likewise.

I Peter 4:8

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly,

Since love covers a multitude of sins.