Monday, April 17, 2017

I Can’t Believe I Did That!



Oh, but I did. Granted, I had been up most of the night with a sick puppy and I was tired, but it never happened with ailing kids. Hurrying was as much to blame, except I had rushed many times before without it happening. 

It was Palm Sunday, and I wanted to be at church a little early, but by the time I finished blow-drying my hair, all my extra time evaporated. I grabbed my coat and purse and bolted out the door to the truck.

Cars filled both parking lots, the roadway, and even the ditch banks. After several anxious minutes, I found space in the back forty, literally an open field. I parked along the edge and ran for the church.

I settled into a pew seconds before the service started. It was then I realized something didn’t feel right. My feet were too comfortable. I looked down. Yes,I  wore my house shoes instead of my dress flats.

At least they weren’t fluffy slippers. They were Sketchers, tennis shoe style scuffs, except I wouldn’t wear them to town with my jeans let alone to church with my dress slacks. I wanted to run home, change and come back, but reason vetoed the idea. It wasn’t worth missing any part of the service. God didn’t care what kind of shoes I wore, only that I came.

I tried to concentrate on the service, but my mind wouldn’t let go of the fact I had worn what I considered my slippers to church. How could I have done such a thing? Was it the onslaught of dementia? Had I crossed over the line and become senile? 

I glanced at the woman in the opposite pew. Low and behold, she had on the exact same shoes. I smiled. As the old saying goes, misery loves company, but I suspect that woman wore her Sketchers intentionally. 

Regardless, I relaxed and thanked God for being so compassionate to a silly old woman and concentrated on our pastor’s sermon. 

“Jesus took Barabbas’s place on the cross.” He repeated that sentence. “Barabbas went free. Think about that. We are Barabbas, and we are set free.”

At that moment, I didn’t think about dementia, old age, or shoes. I am a Child of God, so loved he chose to die for me in order that I could share in his Resurrection.  

Amen. Hallelujah.

Friday, April 7, 2017

Love or Duty? (Another Lesson in Relativity)





In my devotions today, Jesus tells his opponents to judge him by his works if they will not believe his words. This follows right on the heels of my lesson on relativity. He asks us to do works with love. This goes further. Don’t criticize. So many wives are under the mistaken idea nagging their spouse will make them change. Psychologists state people thrive in a positive environment not a critical one. 

To my husband’s credit, he rarely criticizes me. If something is important, he will ask me to sit down and talk. Then, in a quiet, respectful tone, he will explain how my inappropriate behavior made him feel. I must add, he puts up with a lot without saying a word. I too often wear my emotions and forget the Do-This-Out-of-Love Commandment.

 It’s that relativity thing again, but this time with the added emphasis of acting out of love rather than a misguided sense of duty. 

While wrestling with the bedding yesterday (washing the mattress cover and comforter), I wasn’t thinking about love. At least I suffered in silence without displaying my feelings. That was a step forward. 

Today, while I do more chores, I plan to do them because I love my husband. He deserves that. He is a remarkable man, intelligent, kind, thoughtful, caring. I do not doubt he loves me. The King of Lies wants me to feel put upon, neglected, and unappreciated. I’m not. 

Last night, my husband helped with the supper dishes without my asking or even hinting.

After we finished, he gave me a hug and whispered, “Thank you, Sweetheart, for all the things you do.”

I remembered what a wise soul stated about marriage. It is each partner taking turns giving a hundred percent. My husband gives his. I need to give mine without complaint. 

I will with your help, Lord.