Skipping Thanksgiving

“Always find something to be thankful for, even in the hard times." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

With the 1927 harvest complete, Gordon gathered his children for one final chore.  He wanted them to grasp the richness of God’s providence.  Only after they inventoried everything, would they sit down to the Thanksgiving feast their mother had prepared.

The new year had started off well: they had leftover hay, lots of seed, a cow, 2 pigs, 4 chickens and a turkey.  They also had 2 barrels of apples, bins of beets and carrots packed in sand, and plenty of sacked potatoes as well as peas, corn, and a shelf full of jellies and other preserves.  He even had a little money set aside to buy a hay loader - a machine most farmers only dreamed of owning.

When Gordon’s wife was doing her washing, he took his turn over the washboard and asked his wife to take a break.  “You spend more time doing the wash than sleeping,” he said fondly.  Maybe we should break down and get electricity?”  Although elated at the idea, her eyes teared as she thought of the hay loader that would get postponed.

So, the electrical line went up their lane that spring.  Although nothing fancy, they bought a washing machine and lightbulbs that dangled from several ceilings.  No more oil lamps to fill, wicks to cut, or chimneys to scrub.  The lamps got relegated to the attic.

Electricity was almost the last good thing that happened to them in 1928.  Just as their crops were starting to sprout, the rains beat them into the soil.  Vegetables rotted in the mud.  They sold all their livestock to make ends meet.  Only a patch of turnips managed to weather the storms.

As Thanksgiving approached, Gordon’s wife suggested they skip Thanksgiving: “We haven’t even got a turkey left.”

But that morning, Gordon shot a jackrabbit and asked his wife to cook it.  She did so reluctantly as its meat would be gamey and tough.  When it was finally ready along with some of the turnips, the children refused to eat.

Gordon got up from the table and went up to the attic, got an oil lamp, took it back to the table, and lit it.  He told the kids to turn out the electric lights.

With only the light from the lamp again, they could hardly believe that it’d been that dark before.  They wondered how they’d ever seen anything without electric light bulbs.

Gordon blessed the food.  As everyone ate in the dimness of an old oil lamp, they enjoyed a lovely meal together.  The jackrabbit tasted like turkey; the turnips were the mildest anyone could recall.

Friends, to express gratitude is gracious, to show gratitude is generous, but to live with gratitude forever in your heart is to touch heaven.

Oh, God, when I have food help me remember the hungry; when I have work, help me remember the jobless; when I have a warm home, help me remember the homeless; and when I am without pain, remind me of those who suffer.  Amen

Boundless Gratitude

“Sing and make music from your heart; always thanking God for everything." ~ Ephesians 5:19-20

After being stripped and severely beaten, the man was thrown into a cell along with more dangerous criminals.  His despoiling had left his clothing in tatters; offering little protection for his wounds and the filth of the prison.  No windows.  No way out.  Nothing personal in this tiny room but his own heart beat and rancid breath.

He was bound differently from the others: two rings around his neck; one affixed to a chain secured to the wall.  A chain from the second ring reached his waist with manacles preventing him from raising his hands to his mouth or lowing his head to his hands.

Not a moment passed when he was free from the irritation of the rusty chains and the pain of the iron manacles cutting into his wrists and legs.  The lack of adequate nutrition coupled with their sheer weight (15-18 pounds), eventually rendered his limbs useless.

His bed was the hard, cold stone floor of the dank, prison cell.

Food barely sustained life – and was often used as a weapon of punishment and torture when withheld by guards.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed.  His unkept and matted hair was full of lice.

They’d separated him from his family, taken his land, then took his freedom - all to warn the others not to follow him.  He knew that prison would be his last home; the next footsteps in the corridor might be those of the guards taking him away to his execution.

Separated from friends, unjustly accused, brutally treated – if ever a person had a right to complain, it was this man, suffering almost forgotten in an unbearable hellhole.  But instead of complaints, his lips rang with words of praise and thanksgiving.

The man was the Apostle Paul – a man who had learned the true meaning of thanksgiving even in the midst of great adversity.  “Always give thanks for everything, no matter the circumstances.” (Ephesians 5:19-20)  It wasn’t a once-a-year, celebration, but a daily reality that changed his life and made him a joyful person in every situation.

Today, ingratitude and thanklessness are too often the norm.  Children forget to thank their parents for all they do.  Common courtesy is belittled.  We take for granted the way others help us.  Mostly, we fail to thank God for his countless blessings.

Thanksgiving – the giving of thanks to God for all His blessings - should be a hallmark of our Christian values.  Nothing turns us into bitter, selfish, dissatisfied people more quickly than an ungrateful heart.  And nothing will do more to restore happiness and the joy of our salvation than a true spirit of appreciation.

Almighty Father, sometimes life gets me down; I fail to recognize the blessings surrounding me.  Open my eyes of my heart, that I might see clearly the boundless gifts You’ve provided in my life.  I’ll start by thanking You for loving me enough to come to earth and die so we can live together forever.  Amen

Seasons of Waiting

“For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose." ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

Ours was not your typical storybook romance.  Yet when you truly love someone, distance and time barely matter.

We lived down the street from each other half of our lives.  One of my earliest memories is playing ‘Dance, Dance Revolution’ with Julian and kissing him on the cheek.  He got mad and said "If you do that again, I'm going home!"

He was a bit shy but I continued to have a crush on him as we grew up.  Did I mention that he became ridiculously good looking in his teens?

One night at a high school football game, he mentioned that he’d enlisted in the U.S. Army.  For whatever reason, we began messaging each other for hours on end; conversations that eventually revealed our mutual attraction for one another.  Before the season ended, Julian asked me to be his date for the Homecoming Dance.

Following graduation, he left for basic training.  While learning how to communicate with him by snail mail, he was becoming a dedicated, hardworking Infantryman.  We fell in love ... one letter at a time.

His first deployment lasted 11 months.  Little did I know that when I went to welcome him home, Julian asked me to marry him right in the airport.  I learned later that he designed the ring while in Afghanistan.  He even showed me the date on the receipt to prove it.

We were married before he returned overseas.  Not exactly an ideal way to start off a marriage.  He'll be back in the U.S. for good in 10 months.

Yes, the restricted communication when he's away is tough.  Yes, the "see you soon’s" are excruciating.  But when we reunite and I get to jump back into his loving arms, I'm convinced it's worth it.  Because every heartbreaking goodbye is NOTHING compared to each heartwarming hello.  Anything worth having is worth waiting for.

Waiting is a part of life.  Even if you marry young, like we did, you still end up waiting.  There’s always something on the horizon, just out of your reach.  Graduation, a job, an experience, a dream you’re working toward — the list is endless.

The trick is to learn how to wait well.

More important than finding your spouse is becoming the kind of person who’s ready to get married.   All we can do is work hard to become the kind of person Jesus calls us to be.

Waiting is active, not passive. Trust God, do good, dig in, get comfortable with who you are, enjoy every sunrise, commit, be still — 7 staccato commands (Psalm 37) all leading to “wait patiently” for the Lord to reveal His plan for you.  God uses seasons of waiting to make us more like himself.

Father, did You hear my prayer?  Please forgive my impatience.  Still my mind as I await Your presence and divine intervention.  Your timing is always perfect and, even as I pray for what I think I deserve, You always bless me with what’s best.  Amen

Sometimes Looks Deceive

“Give respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed." ~ Romans 13:7

Under the wide brim of his ‘Smokey’ hat, perfectly squared-away uniform and almost caricature-like demeanor, Sergeant Porter is one imposing figure.  As a drill instructor for India Company, 3rd Recruit Training Battalion, he’s with his recruits every waking moment until graduation.

Putting on the belt and campaign cover transforms a regular Marine into someone he probably feared as a new recruit himself.  Now Porter understands how much time and dedication his own drill instructor (DI’s) devoted to the job.

As a recruit, they seem downright psychotic.  These men and women subject recruits to endless hours of “incentivized training.”  It's another way of saying abrupt bouts of burpees and pushups.

They don’t even sound like normal people.  They literally scream so hard that they can pass out, give themselves hernias, or do serious and permanent damage to their vocal cords.  That's why they spend a lot of time at DI school learning to project from their diaphragms in order to develop that raspy "frog voice.”

It's masterful performance art, but with a twist - the enormous personal responsibility they feel for building maggots (slang for raw recruits) into disciplined Marines.  Despite their gruff, borderline hostile interaction with recruits, DIs are real people with real emotions and tremendous dedication to molding young lives.

Sergeant Porter is one tough Marine.  But even he couldn't say “no" when his wife arranged a surprise photo shoot with their four-year-old daughter Ashley, who was dressed like a princess for a special tea party.

Told only to show up in his uniform, he had no idea what was going to happen until he showed up for the shoot.  He was a bit hesitant at first but after a little persuading, his wife was able to convince him.  He’d do anything for Ashley.

Although the two are really close, Ashley often misses out on one-on-one time with her Dad due to his rigorous work schedule, deployments, and most recently his job as a drill instructor.  So, with the Month of the Military Child approaching, this seemed like a perfect time to arrange something special for them both.

The magical event was captured by a local photographer surrounded by trees and foliage.  There, the two shared a magical tea party, sitting in tiny chairs across the table from each other.  Ashley wore a long white, lace dress; her head topped with a crown of pink flowers.

The proud Mom and wife wanted pictures to help show that military officers have softer sides to them and she also wants people to realize how resilient military children are to have their parents away.  It seems that’s just what we Americans need to see on this Veterans Day as well.

Dear Lord, today we honor our veterans, who gave their best when called upon to serve and protect our country.  Bless them for their unselfish service in the continual struggle to preserve our freedoms, our safety, and our country's heritage.  Amen

Many Ways to Serve

“I have plans for you." ~ God

Randall woke abruptly, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing.  He was so ready for this mission work!

From his very first mission trip 20 years earlier, it had always been Randall’s goal to be the hardest working, most productive, most skilled member of any mission team.  Now in his mid-60’s, he still sought the hottest, most demanding jobs.

This trip had taken him to Cusco, Peru.  Over a million people lived in the surrounding area - only 4% were Christians.  Poverty was rampant among the Quechua Indians, a largely unreached group scattered throughout the Andes.  Randall and his team would be constructing a small church.

Randall had that tingly feeling today; the buzz of the new, the thrill of the unknown, the call for new answers that pushed his limits.  At an elevation of over 11,000 feet, Cusco presented just the challenge.  At these elevations, the air’s thinner; each breath contains less oxygen.  He’d have to breathe faster and pump blood more rapidly in order to take in the same amount of oxygen.

His roommate Geoffrey had had a rough night, complaining of dizziness, nausea, and insomnia.  His uncharacteristic loss of appetite at breakfast set off more than a few alarms.  A quick trip to the ER confirmed high altitude sickness.  Geoffrey would need to remain hospitalized for several days until his oxygen levels stabilized and he could move to a lower altitude.

Someone would need to stay with Geoffrey at the hospital.  Randall became that someone.

While the others marched off to their mission, Randall had plenty of down-time for reflection and prayer.  He’d never been on a mission trip without lifting a hammer, pick ax or paint brush.

He remembered the words offered by his Pastor before they left: “Serve as Christ served.  Be humble and accept your role.  Your ability, skills and training are less important on the mission field than your willingness to avail yourself to God’s will.”

Randall smiled.  “The joy of serving others glorifies God,” he understood.  When we give of ourselves, we show the passion, mercy and love of Christ.  God had used him for a completely different purpose – and he felt blessed to have answered His call.

If we're honest with ourselves, sometimes we have ulterior motives for going on a mission trip. We want to travel.  We want to be a hero.  We want to look like a better Christian at home.  Or, more positively: we want to learn about other cultures or something about ourselves.  We’re complicated creatures with complex motives.

Regardless of your reasons for signing up for a mission trip, its essential to prepare your heart for the trip and open yourself to what God may have planned for you through the experience.

Loving God, let me not doubt the things that You can do in me and through me.  Let me simply be a vessel that You fill with Your Holy Spirit so that I can pour into every person I meet and give all glory to You.  Amen

How Sweet the Sound

“Shout to God with cries of joy." ~ Psalm 47:1

On a sunlit spring day, the sky held a soft blue glow.  Tara eyed flowers yet to color her world for warmer days coming, waving in the breeze like a pleasant smile in brilliant shades.

Tara sat on a cool rock overlooking the valley allowing the stress to leak from her bones.  Final exams over forever, she savored the moment, hoping this feeling would never end.  For the first time in 4 years, her body and mind relaxed; no expectations, no deadlines and no schedules to meet.  With her mind’s mental clutter on hold, she sensed everything more clearly.

Tara heard a symphony of fresh melodies: rushing wind through scented pines; two and four-legged creatures welcoming new birth; a swollen stream crashing over random boulders – all witness to God’s majesty.  It got her thinking, “What IS the world’s most beautiful sound?”

Could it simply be just taking time to listen and enjoy in your own carefree happiness?  Or maybe it’s the laughter of children playing without care until tomorrow brings another sunny day.

Sometimes just savoring her boyfriend’s warmth while he gently hugs her close enough to hear her heart’s contentment was more than enough.  Perhaps even a chorus of melodious voices overlaying a Wagnerian orchestra that cradle every bit of your being in its embrace.

Maybe the best sounds symbolize life, like her puppy’s heartbeat, or something more abstract like rainfall on the metal roof of her childhood cabin?  Sounds are some of the trickier fragments of memories, at times instantly recognized (the hook of a song half-remembered); others lost when our recollections dim.

Of course, Tara’s list could go on as she thought about all noises experienced in a day: the hopeful bubbling of a coffee machine, the crisp echo of a new book’s pages, a restless wind just before a thunderstorm.  This competition was indeed personal.

Her choice for “most beautiful sound” was one that melts her heart and energizes her soul.  It can’t be touched, tasted or even seen.  It’s the human voice.

Far from being rendered redundant by modern technology, the human voice has enormous and enduring significance.  Our voices are the personal and social glue that binds us and makes the most important sounds in our lives.

Your voice is a gift to be used wisely and intentionally, not just to add noise.  Use them to shape people’s understanding of issues you’re passionate about.  Use them to champion causes, comfort the suffering, share the Gospel.  Use them to add value to conversations, but also to start new ones.  Use them to encourage, respond, embolden, warn, inspire and teach.

And if you want to hear the sounds that heaven makes, take the time to turn around and just remember all of God's blessings.  You’ll quickly realize they make the loudest noise.

Father, help me use my voice to bless Your name and teach others of Your Word.  Allow me to glorify You by boasting of Your goodness and grace.  And finally, bless me by the confession my sins.  Amen