A Normal Day in My Life 2024

Smelling coffee, birds singing just outside, here comes God’s mercy streaming in with the morning light. My heart races waking up to His smile. It’s a good morning.

Front deck overlooking the lake, sipping coffee with Jesus. Words in red penetrate my porous soul. Gentle Spirit speaks and changes me to yet another glory. A humming bird zips by my head and hovers for a second. Refreshed and energized, I walk back into the house.

Jay drinks sweet tea as we discuss the Spirit Words given to us this morning. Apparently, we both read the same Word. We stroll around the lake, praying, while birds and beasts flit and scurry before us. The placid lake gives us a wink as we return.

Phone rings, Lisa wants to know if we could get coffee, Starbucks, Robinhood, 10 am? Sure.

Starbucks is humming this morning. Lattes, coffee, frappes, the line is long. Lisa and I chat; someone says hello. Why it’s Matt and Tim front of us.

We take our warm beverages out to the patio. A lady with a poorly fitting prosthetic leg tries to squeeze through the door, Lisa runs to open it for her.

“Thank you,” she says, eyes cast downward. I feel Jesus tugging and join Lisa at the door.

“Jesus has a beautiful day planned for you. Are you ready for some excitement?”

She cracks a smile, looks up at me and then down at her leg. “Sweetie, what kind of exciting things do you think I could actually get into?”

Lisa and I look at each other, suddenly the humming stops, all is quiet. We look deeply into her eyes. Matt and Tim slowly stand at their seats.

Gently, taking her hand, I say, “In the name of Jesus…” She starts crying… “Rise up from your languish, be healed…” She shakes, her hands warm… “and whole!”

Matt and Tim push their chairs back, racing for the catch as she crumples; the prosthetic slides off. Faces pressed against the glass, patrons gasp. Plastic prosthetic lays along side her new pink leg.

She gazes at her new skin and wiggles her toes. Laughing and tears streaming, “Thank you, thank you Jesus.”

iPhones are popping pics. People pour out of the venue. Starbucks hums with questions.

“My daughter has MS, could you…”

“I have migraines all the time…”

“Could He…” “Would He…”

Starbucks is humming. Healings, deliverances, salvations, the line is long. Two other Jesus followers join us. Over and over I hear and say, “In the name of Jesus!”

Three hours later, six original believers have become 32 believers. Starbucks is humming Hallelujahs. People connect, five different churches are represented and have new visitors lined up for Sunday services. I have new friends; Agnes has a new leg and new friends. Drinks on the house, Love overflows out of the venue as these new believers flit and scurry to share their God stories all over Winston.

Goodbyes. I hug Lisa tightly, our eyes moist with the presence and power of God. Glass door gives me a wink as it closes after me.

Home again. I share the God stories with Jay. Like gentle waters, God’s mercy streams into our home as we float praises to the a living powerful Jesus.

Preparing supper, I reflect on recent adventures. Tuesday, Yet another friend shuddered under the power while receiving his prayer language, youth prayer night when the fire department rushed to the rescue and were themselves rescued by God’s power, the grocery store giveaway, and just yesterday comforting a grieving friend. Was God’s Name made famous this week? Yes. Yes it was.

Pale evening sun sets over the placid lake. A goodnight wink and I’m off to bed. My heart rests in God’s love. It was a good morning.


Chastisement that brings peace

There once was an adorable 6 year old girl. Beauty. Like most 6 year olds, Beauty played in her imaginary world. Usually, Mother liked to play with her in her world. But when mother called, “Supper!” And she answered, “I have to tie up my Pegasus first.” She ate cold dinner with a frustrated mother.
Soon, her imagination convinced Beauty that she could make simple stories to cover up her transgressions.
“Beauty, let me see what you have for homework,” Mother said. The girl answered confidently, “My teacher was sick and didn’t give us any today.”
These stories went on for a long time. But mother soon found out that they were lies. The lies broke her heart. She went to Father and they both talked to their daughter about lying, how it hurt their both their hearts. Finally, Beauty said the words they longed to hear, “I’m sorry Mother and Father.” But in the girl’s heart she knew that was a story too.
After many more stories and many times of chastisement, Beauty noticed her Mother didn’t play in her world anymore.
One day Beauty’s fists were balled up tight. Mother came to call her to supper and noticed. “Darling, what do you have in your hands?” She hid her fists behind her back, “Nothing mother.”
“Let me see your hands”
Beauty brought her fists forward and slowly opened them to reveal two pieces from the candy jar. “I don’t know how they got there Mother!” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Mother stood before her with a painful look on her face. “Why would you lie about this? You could have asked for some and I would have given it to you.”
Ashamed Beauty answered, “I don’t know, are you angry?”
“Yes, you have been lying so much I can’t trust you anymore. Wait until Father comes home.” And Mother, tears in her eyes, turned, forgetting about supper.
The girl hid in her room anxiously wondering what Father would do. She tried to think of a good story so he wouldn’t be too angry.
Father came home and heard the real story. He called his precious daughter into the room. When Beauty came in he was extra tall, red-faced and held a long wooden yard stick. Even Mother was frightened.
“Let’s talk,” he growled and pointed to the bedroom.
Beauty knew this was it. Head hung low and tears streaming she silently marched to the bedroom. The door clicked to a close. She turned to face her Father, hands covering her tail.
Father looked her in her tear stained eyes. “Why do you keep telling lies? There is no need to. We love you and would listen if you told us the truth.”
“I don’t know why, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” she choked.
“You’ve said that many times. The only way to solve this now is with a very painful punishment,” he said calmly while waving the large wooden stick. Beauty’s eyes widened as he continued, “I’ll take the punishment for you.” She flinched as he handed her the yardstick. He turned around and put his hands on the bed. “You have to spank me three times.”
Beauty, terrified with tears like rivers yelled, “No Daddy, no, I was wrong, not you.”
“Just do it.” He said calmly.
“No, I can’t. I’m so sorry Daddy, I’ll never do it again.” She ran to him and hugged him, knowing that she meant it this time.
After that day Beauty always tried to the truth and kept her imagination for playing and inventing. Mother and Father were not sad anymore. Their family was at peace once more.

This is a true story. This happened when my eldest was 6 years old. There was so much peace in our household when she wasn’t hiding something, after she accepted that someone had to pay for her sins.

This is still a true story, Jesus took our punishment so we could finally be reconciled to God. I’m so glad that there is peace between me and my heavenly Daddy now. Thank you Jesus!

Today’s Story of The Little Red Hen

Once upon a time, a lamb, a cat, a pig, and a little red hen lived on an old farm on a flowery hill surrounded by fields of golden wheat. One day, the Little Red Hen found some grains of wheat scattered in the barnyard. “Look what I’ve found!” she said to the other animals. “Who will help me plant these grains of wheat?”

“Not I!” said the lamb.
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. She knew that seeds need water to grow tall and strong. “Who will help me water these seeds?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I!” said the lamb.
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. The Little Red Hen watered the soil and waited patiently for the wheat to grow. When the wheat was tall and golden, she knew it was ready to be cut. “Who will help me harvest the wheat?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I!” said the lamb.
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. The Little Red Hen’s basket was soon filled with wheat. “Who will help me take the wheat to the mill to be ground into flour?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I!” said the lamb
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. She paid the kind Miller to grind the wheat into powdery, velvety flour, and the Little Red Hen carried it home in a rough brown sack. “Who will help me make this flour into bread?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I!” said the lamb.
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. The Little Red Hen mixed the flour into sticky dough and kneaded it into a smooth loaf. “Who will help me put this bread into the oven to bake?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I!” said the lamb.
“Not I!” said the cat.
“Not I!” said the pig.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And so she did. The kitchen filled with the delicious scent of baking bread, and the other animals came to see what was happening. The Little Red Hen took the warm, crusty loaf out of the oven, and set it on the table. “Who will help me eat this fresh, tasty bread?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“I will!” said the lamb.
“I will!” said the cat.
“I will!” said the pig.

“No, you will not,” said the Little Red Hen. “You didn’t help me plant it, or water it, or harvest it, or mill it, or bake it. I shall eat it myself!”

But the farmer spoke up, “Bad Little Red Hen, you should be ashamed of yourself. Feed your neighbors!”

“But I did all the study, preparation and work to make this bread. No one else wanted to do any of the work,” replied the Little Red Hen.

The farmer was quite irritated with the Rich Little Red Hen, “It is not the fault of the lamb, cat or pig that they didn’t have the education to help you. They are hungry and I command you to feed them!”

And because the farmer was the farmer, the Little Red Hen shared her bread with her neighbors.

The next time she made bread, the same thing happened and she shared her bread with her neighbors…And again, and again.

Finally the Little Red Hen was worn out and broke. She could no longer make bread. Every animal on the farm starved and died. And the farmer blamed the Little Red Hen.

Nature taught me Forgiveness

Grey morning, quiet. Squirrel merrily prancing through fog on back deck – nothing else moving. Trying to find grace gifts when fog has also crept into my soul. A shadow over grace. One would think – prancing squirrel – how cute – joy in the haze, but no I can’t allow myself. The reason seems as grey as this day – unforgiveness. I know I need to forgive, but does that include squirrels?  Those precious parasites of my birdfeeder paradise. Barrels of seed bought for my birds and their feasting pleasure. Golds of finches, reds of cardinals and robins, blue-gray-browns of bluebirds, nuthatches, juncos, titmouses (titmice?), wrens – all the joy of color in my grey world – driven away by filthy, sneaky, tricksey little squirrels. My precious… I digress… So okay, that brown- gray fluff pouncing at God-knows-what on the deck is kind of cute, and My unforgiveness doesn’t seem to affect his joy at all. It does affect mine. So in this day of grey I can choose to see him as gift or garbage. My decision. .. today’s joy rides on my choice… I’ll choose forgiveness, joy and grace. Neways, he is kind of cute 🙂