I love you but . . . nothing good has ever followed those four words, and he was gone. Leaving her with the house payments, car payments and unpaid utility bills. The grass needed mowing and the sink was leaking and he was gone. She looked in the mirror, “THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” Squaring her shoulders, she wiped the tears from her eyes and walked out to face life.
It’s Alzheimer’s . . . and her life became watching her friend, lover and husband fade away. All the memories to share and no one to share them with. A long process as his body was healthy, but his eyes were vacant. She looked in the mirror and saw the wrinkles that weren’t there yesterday, and faced a future of growing old, alone. “THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” Wiping the tears from her eyes, she combed her hair and headed to the nursing facility to spend the day.
Here’s your son. . .and the new mother reached up to take him in her arms and see his face for the first time. Ten little fingers, ten little toes, two little eyes and one little nose. All the parts were accounted for. He snuggled into her arms and sighed. Her tears dripped on his head as she was overwhelmed with what lie ahead. I’m sorry but . . and her husband walked out into the arms of another. Looking at her son she thought “THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” She wrapped the blanket tighter around her precious bundle and knew, despite the struggles, they would make it.
We have to let you go . . .and his mind went blank. Twenty-five years at the company and they were showing him the door with a check for two week’s severance and a handshake. His shoulders slumped as he picked up his briefcase and turned his computer off for the last time. He shuffled out the door, oblivious to everything else. His mind racing as to what the future held. Looking in the rearview mirror to back out he screamed “THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE”. And he started home to tell his wife of the postponed plans and the things that might never be.
I’m sorry for your loss . . .and the doctor walked away. She’s not lost, she’s dead. Their little girl is dead. The nurse helped them sit down. They could hear her murmuring something but it wasn’t getting through. Looking at the tiny figure in the bed she screamed “THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE! Children are not supposed to die before their parents. How are we supposed to go on?” But no one had an answer for her. She dissolved into her husband’s arms and they wept.
How many times have you screamed that, questioning why something happened? Struggling to find answers where there are none.
"Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker. . . . Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?' . . ."This is what the LORD says— the Holy One of Israel, and its Maker: Concerning things to come, do you question me about my children, or give me orders about the work of my hands? It is I who made the earth and created mankind upon it.” Isaiah 45:9
But God hears those cries, those pleas for answers, and sometimes we get them and sometimes we don’t. We have to trust that at the darkest hour, when we cannot take one more step, he scoops us up in his arms and carries us the distance. He catches our tears in his hands even as he weeps. All we have to do is lean against him and let him carry the burden.
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
It’s a son . . and the mother cradled him close. She watched him grow into manhood, studying the ways of his father. She was always beside him, a proud, loving mother. When he became a minister, there she was encouraging him, supporting him as only a mother can. When he was unjustly accused and beaten, she kept silent. Finally, as he hung on the cross, she heard “THIS IS THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” And she bowed her head and prayed for strength.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
Peace to you,
Stevie
Copyright Stevie Stevens, 2009, Fort Worth, TX
All Scripture is the New International Version
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Moral of the Story
The phone rang on Angela’s desk.
“We need you to visit with Bart. He’s admitted to me that he’s smoked grass and I confiscated a baggie full of the stuff.”
Angela quickly agreed and said she would be right over. As she drove to the house, scenarios kept playing in her mind. Bart was 11 years old, and had come to CPS from a terrible drug environment. He knew the risks associated with the lifestyle. She would have never have guessed he would do something like this.
She pulled into the drive and the door opened.
“He’s in his room. I’ve spoken with him, but who knows if I got through.” Doug, Bart's foster father handed her the baggie.
Far from being full there was a dried grassy substance in the bottom. Angela opened the bag and smelled it, didn’t smell like marijuana, but it did look similar.
She shut the bag, handed it back and sighed. “I’ll go get him and we’ll take a little ride and I’ll see what he has to say.”
She disappeared into Bart's room and came out seconds later with him. He looked at his dad and said “Ms. Angela’s taking me for a ride. Is that okay?”
“Yes, it is.” He bent down and looked him in the eye. “I want you to be straight with her you understand?”
Bart nodded. “Yes, sir.”
They got in her car and drove through a fast food place where she got them both a drink. “So, I hear you’ve been smoking grass. Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many times?”
He thought for a minute. “Three times.”
“Where?”
“Behind the garage.”
“How did you feel?”
“Felt fine, I ain’t been sick.”
“No, Bart, after you smoked the grass, what did you feel?”
“Nothin’.”
“”Nothing? At all? Any of the times?”
“Nope. Nothin’.”
“Bart, with your background, you know what smoking marijuana can do . . .”
“Oh, Ms. Angela, I ain’t been smokin’ no weed. I smoked grass.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of grass?”
He pointed out the window. “Like that.”
“The green stuff you mow?”
He nodded his head. “Ms. Angela, I know better than to do weed.”
“The stuff that’s between the curbs there in the street?” He nodded.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What kind of paper did you use? Did you have cigarette papers?”
“No, it was pink. And one was white.”
“Pink?”
“Yeah, had writing on it. It was hung on the door.”
“You mean a flyer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And the other was white?”
“Uh-huh. Real thin. Found it in the trash can.”
She fished in her purse and handed him a slip of paper. “Like this one?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you used a pink flyer that you found on the door and a credit card receipt you found in the trash?”
“Yep.”
“Who taught you to do this?”
“The girl next door.”
“Was it her idea?”
“Yep, but I went along with it.”
“Did Doug talk to you about this?”
He sat up straighter in the seat. “Yes, ma’am. He did. He told me I don’t never need to do that again and I told him I wouldn’t. ‘Sides it was a lot of work for nothin’.”
She looked out the window to hide the smile. “Well, I’ll take you back home, but you can’t smoke anything again, ever. I think you understand that. You need to listen when Doug talks and do what he says.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They parked in front of the house and Angela followed him in. “Go on to your room now and do your homework. And keep out of trouble.”
He grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to face Doug. “It was grass and he did admit to smoking it.”
Doug’s face fell. “Did you take it to the police sub-station on the corner?”
Doug shook his head. “I didn’t want to get Bart in trouble.”
“Give it to me and I’ll take care of it.” She started for the door. “And next time you mow your lawn, rake up the clippings to keep temptation out of his way.” As she closed the door she heard laughter.
The moral of the story is: Things aren’t always what they appear to be and jumping to conclusions is only good as exercise.
Stevie
Copyright Fort Worth, TX 2005
“We need you to visit with Bart. He’s admitted to me that he’s smoked grass and I confiscated a baggie full of the stuff.”
Angela quickly agreed and said she would be right over. As she drove to the house, scenarios kept playing in her mind. Bart was 11 years old, and had come to CPS from a terrible drug environment. He knew the risks associated with the lifestyle. She would have never have guessed he would do something like this.
She pulled into the drive and the door opened.
“He’s in his room. I’ve spoken with him, but who knows if I got through.” Doug, Bart's foster father handed her the baggie.
Far from being full there was a dried grassy substance in the bottom. Angela opened the bag and smelled it, didn’t smell like marijuana, but it did look similar.
She shut the bag, handed it back and sighed. “I’ll go get him and we’ll take a little ride and I’ll see what he has to say.”
She disappeared into Bart's room and came out seconds later with him. He looked at his dad and said “Ms. Angela’s taking me for a ride. Is that okay?”
“Yes, it is.” He bent down and looked him in the eye. “I want you to be straight with her you understand?”
Bart nodded. “Yes, sir.”
They got in her car and drove through a fast food place where she got them both a drink. “So, I hear you’ve been smoking grass. Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many times?”
He thought for a minute. “Three times.”
“Where?”
“Behind the garage.”
“How did you feel?”
“Felt fine, I ain’t been sick.”
“No, Bart, after you smoked the grass, what did you feel?”
“Nothin’.”
“”Nothing? At all? Any of the times?”
“Nope. Nothin’.”
“Bart, with your background, you know what smoking marijuana can do . . .”
“Oh, Ms. Angela, I ain’t been smokin’ no weed. I smoked grass.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of grass?”
He pointed out the window. “Like that.”
“The green stuff you mow?”
He nodded his head. “Ms. Angela, I know better than to do weed.”
“The stuff that’s between the curbs there in the street?” He nodded.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What kind of paper did you use? Did you have cigarette papers?”
“No, it was pink. And one was white.”
“Pink?”
“Yeah, had writing on it. It was hung on the door.”
“You mean a flyer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And the other was white?”
“Uh-huh. Real thin. Found it in the trash can.”
She fished in her purse and handed him a slip of paper. “Like this one?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you used a pink flyer that you found on the door and a credit card receipt you found in the trash?”
“Yep.”
“Who taught you to do this?”
“The girl next door.”
“Was it her idea?”
“Yep, but I went along with it.”
“Did Doug talk to you about this?”
He sat up straighter in the seat. “Yes, ma’am. He did. He told me I don’t never need to do that again and I told him I wouldn’t. ‘Sides it was a lot of work for nothin’.”
She looked out the window to hide the smile. “Well, I’ll take you back home, but you can’t smoke anything again, ever. I think you understand that. You need to listen when Doug talks and do what he says.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They parked in front of the house and Angela followed him in. “Go on to your room now and do your homework. And keep out of trouble.”
He grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to face Doug. “It was grass and he did admit to smoking it.”
Doug’s face fell. “Did you take it to the police sub-station on the corner?”
Doug shook his head. “I didn’t want to get Bart in trouble.”
“Give it to me and I’ll take care of it.” She started for the door. “And next time you mow your lawn, rake up the clippings to keep temptation out of his way.” As she closed the door she heard laughter.
The moral of the story is: Things aren’t always what they appear to be and jumping to conclusions is only good as exercise.
Stevie
Copyright Fort Worth, TX 2005
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Reality
I like millions of others was caught up last week in the story of the “balloon boy”, the six year old boy that was supposedly trapped in a homemade weather balloon flying high over Colorado. After the balloon landed it was discovered that he was not in the balloon. Cue the hysterical parents on tv and the stoic law enforcement officers as they valiantly carried on the search for the lost boy, only to find him hiding in a box in the attic of the family home.
Several tv interviews later and the truth spills out of the young boy. He thought they did it “for the tv show”. Now his parents are facing charges, the family is being investigated by the child protection service of Colorado and life as they know it may come to end. Why? The pursuit of fame.
Then there’s the single mom in California who already had six children and in one fell swoop added eight more. She wants her own reality tv show. And lest we forget the couple with eight kids whose marriage basically disintegrated in front of a tv audience, now raking each other over the coals in the tabloids. Why? Ostensibly to provide for the children. Realistically? The pursuit of fortune.
I read where several of the “reality” show “stars” complain that it’s hard to date and have relationships while being followed around by cameras. Too bad, so sad, you chose that life. Quit whining as you carry your designer bags, wearing your designer clothes, getting into your luxury automobiles. Try having to choose between a prescription or gasoline, putting food on the table or getting a car fixed, then you can whine.
I admit I do not know these people, I do not watch the reality shows, I only know what I’ve seen and read about them, but I can say one thing, these shows are not reality. Reality is getting up every day and going to work or school, trying to live as we should, endeavoring to do the right thing, whether it’s the popular choice or not.
Ecclesiastes 5:10
Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income. This too is meaningless.
Matthew 6:24
"No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.
1 Timothy 6:10
For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.
Hebrews 13:5
Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."
And the only one who deserves fame is our Father in Heaven.
Hosea 14:7
Men will dwell again in his shade. He will flourish like the grain. He will blossom like a vine, and his fame will be like the wine from Lebanon.
Habakkuk 3:2
LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy.
Stevie
All scripture is New International Version.
copyright 2009 Fort Worth TX
Several tv interviews later and the truth spills out of the young boy. He thought they did it “for the tv show”. Now his parents are facing charges, the family is being investigated by the child protection service of Colorado and life as they know it may come to end. Why? The pursuit of fame.
Then there’s the single mom in California who already had six children and in one fell swoop added eight more. She wants her own reality tv show. And lest we forget the couple with eight kids whose marriage basically disintegrated in front of a tv audience, now raking each other over the coals in the tabloids. Why? Ostensibly to provide for the children. Realistically? The pursuit of fortune.
I read where several of the “reality” show “stars” complain that it’s hard to date and have relationships while being followed around by cameras. Too bad, so sad, you chose that life. Quit whining as you carry your designer bags, wearing your designer clothes, getting into your luxury automobiles. Try having to choose between a prescription or gasoline, putting food on the table or getting a car fixed, then you can whine.
I admit I do not know these people, I do not watch the reality shows, I only know what I’ve seen and read about them, but I can say one thing, these shows are not reality. Reality is getting up every day and going to work or school, trying to live as we should, endeavoring to do the right thing, whether it’s the popular choice or not.
Ecclesiastes 5:10
Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income. This too is meaningless.
Matthew 6:24
"No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.
1 Timothy 6:10
For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.
Hebrews 13:5
Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."
And the only one who deserves fame is our Father in Heaven.
Hosea 14:7
Men will dwell again in his shade. He will flourish like the grain. He will blossom like a vine, and his fame will be like the wine from Lebanon.
Habakkuk 3:2
LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy.
Stevie
All scripture is New International Version.
copyright 2009 Fort Worth TX
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Worry
Do Not Worry
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:25-34 (NIV)
Somebody did a study on what the average person worries about. They found that 40% of what people worry about never happens, 30% has already happened and they can’t do anything about it, 12% is what others say about you that is, most of the time, untrue; and finally 10% deals with health, and worrying will only make that worse. That leaves 8% for the things that are considered to be real problems, and worry doesn’t help with those either.
Worry is like a rocking chair, “it will give you something to do, but gets you nowhere.” It is also like a disease “it infects everyone yet no one seeks a cure.” Worry is a sin dangerous enough to ruin my physical and spiritual vitality and drain my life of hope and joy; and generates the kind of peace-robbing emotional spirit that weakens and tires me. Yet, knowing that, I still worry. . . a lot! Here are five ways to win the war over worry:
Trust in the Lord
Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
I trust God in the big decisions, where should I live or work, my children, my mate, but do I trust God in the small stuff? What shall I wear or eat today? He loves me and wants to be involved in my life, just as I am involved in my children’s or friends’ lives. I need to Trust in him with ALL my heart.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Philippians 4:6. Do not be anxious or worried or fret about anything. That’s a command. Do not be doesn’t leave a question in my mind. I am not to worry, fret or be anxious about one thing. How many times, when there’s an important appointment in the morning, do I set the alarm, but can’t sleep because I’m afraid it won’t go off? And how about arriving 3 hours early for a plane? That’s not going to make that plane take off one minute earlier.
“But in everything,” again, that leaves nothing out, “by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” When I’ve lost something, I should start out by thanking God for what I have left. Do I have loved ones? Do I have clothes and shelter, or food for the next meal? Do I still have all the important parts of my body?
Dr. Alexander Kidd, was a great clergyman who lived in Aberdeen. He was well known to theologians and pastors. One day, he got very angry and upset and said the wrong words as he left a gathering of his closest Christian colleagues. Dr. Kidd was feeling very guilty and said “Tell me why can I handle the big trials, but it’s the little ones, the petty annoyances that irate me and I say things that would embarrass my Lord, Jesus Christ? Why can I handle the big things and not the little ones?”
One of his colleagues answered, “Good brother, Dr. Kidd, I know the answer. You take the big ones to God, completely, and you trust Him. But with the little ones, you don’t bother him. You think you can handle them yourself.”
Dr. Kidd said, “Aye, aye, the true cause, I do believe. I have to learn to take the little things, as well as the big ones, to God.”
Don’t worry because I have taken everything to God in prayer and trust that he will take care of it.
Do Good
One of the signs that I’m not trusting God is that I drop out of my usual activities. Then I get down. I say, “I lost my job!” Well, what am I doing about it? “Well, I’m just sitting around the house!” Well, quit it! Get out there and do something trusting God to provide! Ephesians 2:10 “For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Besides, helping others takes my mind off my troubles.
Delight Myself in the Lord
What a wonderful word, delight. It means a high degree of pleasure or enjoyment, joy, rapture, something that gives great pleasure, satisfaction, please highly, to have great pleasure or take pleasure. The Psalms state that God delights in me. Psalm 147:11 “The Lord DELIGHTS in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.” Psalm 37:23 “If the Lord DELIGHTS in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm.” Psalm 22:8 “He trusts in the Lord; let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.”
He enjoys me, he waits patiently for me to acknowledge him, and include him. I picture him in the same state as a child who is sitting on the top step waiting to be called to the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. His eyes are bright, there’s a smile on his face and he’s waiting in eager anticipation for me to call out to him. I should have the same feeling towards him, and when I am full of delight and joy, there is no room for worry.
Commit My Way to the Lord
Commit means literally “to roll”. It means to roll my burden on the Lord. Whatever that burden is, I am to give it to God. His shoulders are broad enough. Matthew 11:30 “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” As I have gone through tough times, divorce, losing my job, not feeling well, Satan tries his tricks on me. He sends discouragement, disappointment, worry, maybe even anger. As I’ve matured I’ve learned to see that it is Satan warring against my spirit. I consciously make a choice not to listen to him, because if I do, he wins. I learned a long time ago that Satan is like a very ardent suitor. He tells me what I want to hear, does things with me I like to do, asking only that I follow him. But, as soon as I do, he’s gone. He’s won my hand, so he drops me like a hot potato, leaving me to fend for myself.
As soon as little sniggles of worry come into my mind, I turn them immediately over to God. Every morning, I give myself and my day to God, knowing that he wants only what’s best for me and that together he and I can face anything. He tells me he loves me and, having struggled with feelings of unloveability, I cling to that and know that he’s really there for me, so I must be there for him. There’s an old hymn that says “I can’t even walk without holding your hand”, and that’s the way I feel. If I’m not holding on to his precious, loving hand, I’m laying face down in the dirt.
Rest in the Lord
Such a lovely picture. Jesus, sitting with his arms open wide beckoning me to crawl up in his lap and lay my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and says, “shhhhh.” There is no business, no interruptions, only soul to soul communication from me to my brother, my savior. Psalm 23 says he restores my soul. Matthew 11:28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Proverbs 19:23 “The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble.” Then one rests content, untouched by trouble. Content, untouched by trouble. Can’t we all use some of that kind of rest?
The more I trust, the less I worry. Rather than worry all night, wouldn’t it be smarter to pray half the night and then sleep comfortably till morning? God’s going to be up anyway.
Replacing worry with trust gives me the ability to enjoy and appreciate my life.
Replacing worry with trust permits me to work hard and leave the results to God.
Replacing worry with trust helps me relax and truly value my friends and family.
Replacing worry with trust strengthens my faith in the God who always loves me.
Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its trouble, it empties today of its strength.
Trust in the Lord, do good, delight in the Lord, commit my way to the Lord, and rest in the Lord. A little bit of prayer sure beats a lot of worry.
Stevie Stevens
Copyright 2009 at Fort Worth, Texas
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:25-34 (NIV)
Somebody did a study on what the average person worries about. They found that 40% of what people worry about never happens, 30% has already happened and they can’t do anything about it, 12% is what others say about you that is, most of the time, untrue; and finally 10% deals with health, and worrying will only make that worse. That leaves 8% for the things that are considered to be real problems, and worry doesn’t help with those either.
Worry is like a rocking chair, “it will give you something to do, but gets you nowhere.” It is also like a disease “it infects everyone yet no one seeks a cure.” Worry is a sin dangerous enough to ruin my physical and spiritual vitality and drain my life of hope and joy; and generates the kind of peace-robbing emotional spirit that weakens and tires me. Yet, knowing that, I still worry. . . a lot! Here are five ways to win the war over worry:
Trust in the Lord
Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
I trust God in the big decisions, where should I live or work, my children, my mate, but do I trust God in the small stuff? What shall I wear or eat today? He loves me and wants to be involved in my life, just as I am involved in my children’s or friends’ lives. I need to Trust in him with ALL my heart.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Philippians 4:6. Do not be anxious or worried or fret about anything. That’s a command. Do not be doesn’t leave a question in my mind. I am not to worry, fret or be anxious about one thing. How many times, when there’s an important appointment in the morning, do I set the alarm, but can’t sleep because I’m afraid it won’t go off? And how about arriving 3 hours early for a plane? That’s not going to make that plane take off one minute earlier.
“But in everything,” again, that leaves nothing out, “by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” When I’ve lost something, I should start out by thanking God for what I have left. Do I have loved ones? Do I have clothes and shelter, or food for the next meal? Do I still have all the important parts of my body?
Dr. Alexander Kidd, was a great clergyman who lived in Aberdeen. He was well known to theologians and pastors. One day, he got very angry and upset and said the wrong words as he left a gathering of his closest Christian colleagues. Dr. Kidd was feeling very guilty and said “Tell me why can I handle the big trials, but it’s the little ones, the petty annoyances that irate me and I say things that would embarrass my Lord, Jesus Christ? Why can I handle the big things and not the little ones?”
One of his colleagues answered, “Good brother, Dr. Kidd, I know the answer. You take the big ones to God, completely, and you trust Him. But with the little ones, you don’t bother him. You think you can handle them yourself.”
Dr. Kidd said, “Aye, aye, the true cause, I do believe. I have to learn to take the little things, as well as the big ones, to God.”
Don’t worry because I have taken everything to God in prayer and trust that he will take care of it.
Do Good
One of the signs that I’m not trusting God is that I drop out of my usual activities. Then I get down. I say, “I lost my job!” Well, what am I doing about it? “Well, I’m just sitting around the house!” Well, quit it! Get out there and do something trusting God to provide! Ephesians 2:10 “For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Besides, helping others takes my mind off my troubles.
Delight Myself in the Lord
What a wonderful word, delight. It means a high degree of pleasure or enjoyment, joy, rapture, something that gives great pleasure, satisfaction, please highly, to have great pleasure or take pleasure. The Psalms state that God delights in me. Psalm 147:11 “The Lord DELIGHTS in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.” Psalm 37:23 “If the Lord DELIGHTS in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm.” Psalm 22:8 “He trusts in the Lord; let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.”
He enjoys me, he waits patiently for me to acknowledge him, and include him. I picture him in the same state as a child who is sitting on the top step waiting to be called to the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. His eyes are bright, there’s a smile on his face and he’s waiting in eager anticipation for me to call out to him. I should have the same feeling towards him, and when I am full of delight and joy, there is no room for worry.
Commit My Way to the Lord
Commit means literally “to roll”. It means to roll my burden on the Lord. Whatever that burden is, I am to give it to God. His shoulders are broad enough. Matthew 11:30 “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” As I have gone through tough times, divorce, losing my job, not feeling well, Satan tries his tricks on me. He sends discouragement, disappointment, worry, maybe even anger. As I’ve matured I’ve learned to see that it is Satan warring against my spirit. I consciously make a choice not to listen to him, because if I do, he wins. I learned a long time ago that Satan is like a very ardent suitor. He tells me what I want to hear, does things with me I like to do, asking only that I follow him. But, as soon as I do, he’s gone. He’s won my hand, so he drops me like a hot potato, leaving me to fend for myself.
As soon as little sniggles of worry come into my mind, I turn them immediately over to God. Every morning, I give myself and my day to God, knowing that he wants only what’s best for me and that together he and I can face anything. He tells me he loves me and, having struggled with feelings of unloveability, I cling to that and know that he’s really there for me, so I must be there for him. There’s an old hymn that says “I can’t even walk without holding your hand”, and that’s the way I feel. If I’m not holding on to his precious, loving hand, I’m laying face down in the dirt.
Rest in the Lord
Such a lovely picture. Jesus, sitting with his arms open wide beckoning me to crawl up in his lap and lay my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and says, “shhhhh.” There is no business, no interruptions, only soul to soul communication from me to my brother, my savior. Psalm 23 says he restores my soul. Matthew 11:28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Proverbs 19:23 “The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble.” Then one rests content, untouched by trouble. Content, untouched by trouble. Can’t we all use some of that kind of rest?
The more I trust, the less I worry. Rather than worry all night, wouldn’t it be smarter to pray half the night and then sleep comfortably till morning? God’s going to be up anyway.
Replacing worry with trust gives me the ability to enjoy and appreciate my life.
Replacing worry with trust permits me to work hard and leave the results to God.
Replacing worry with trust helps me relax and truly value my friends and family.
Replacing worry with trust strengthens my faith in the God who always loves me.
Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its trouble, it empties today of its strength.
Trust in the Lord, do good, delight in the Lord, commit my way to the Lord, and rest in the Lord. A little bit of prayer sure beats a lot of worry.
Stevie Stevens
Copyright 2009 at Fort Worth, Texas
Monday, October 12, 2009
Television v Real Life
My name is Stevie and I readily admit that I am a televisionaholic. When I was growing up I could quote the tv guide verbatim. I knew that women special guest stars on shows like Magnum, P.I. or Starsky and Hutch would be dead before the end of the show, because they weren’t going to marry them off. I also knew if the star of the show was injured in a cliffhanger, they would survive because it was their show unless contract negotiations broke down.
Having watched Leave It to Beaver, The Andy Griffith show, the Brady Bunch, Bewitched and The Waltons, among others, I started pondering on what I learned from television.
For instance:
Moms were always dressed up, smelled nice and never yelled. Dinner was waiting on the table and friends, as well as dad’s boss, would be welcome without any notice. She would instinctively know when plans were being made that would lead to trouble, and could always kiss the hurts away. No matter the time, cookies were coming out of the oven and milk would be available in glass bottles in the refrigerator. She never gained weight and had terrific manners. The only discipline moms ever did was sending the children to their rooms to wait for their father.
Dad would leave for work every morning in the only car, leaving mom “stranded” at home. He would work all day in an office doing something that was never explained, reliving his glory days of playing football, baseball, tennis or squash, while drinking coffee. If he wasn’t in the office, he would have meetings on the golf course. He was the disciplinarian because Mom would say, “Just wait till your father comes home!” It was his responsibility to hand out the chores, pay the bills, mow the grass and make enough money to keep the family going.
The children were always in trouble, and could never seem to remember instructions. Lunch money was lost, bikes were stolen and feelings were hurt. The good news was that no matter what the problem, it could be solved in 30 minutes, an hour, or if it was a really big problem it would be continued to the next week, so it might take two hours. The solution always left everyone smiling and relieved that little Timmy, Beaver, Greg or Marcia had been dealt with. Talks were always frank and open and everyone got to share their feelings, ending in group hugs or being grounded depending on the crisis of the week.
Families weren’t necessarily only mom, dad and kids. Sometimes grandparents, housekeepers and genies were there. Aunts, uncles and cousins would invariably drop in and create such havoc that everybody was relieved when they left. Visits from in-laws sent Mom into a tailspin as she tried to make the house spotless. Of course the family dog, Spot, Tiger, Lassie or Comet ALWAYS tracked mud in just as the visitors arrived. It didn’t matter, soon everyone was laughing about it.
Children were never alone, afraid, hurt, ignored or lonely. There were few “only children” families. Each family had at least two children, maybe three, but no more. Parents slept in twin beds, which was the reason there were no more than 2 children. Mr. and Mrs. Walton however, slept in one bed and they had 7 children. There is a correlation here. Sex was talked about , hinted at and children were born, but it was never actually shown. Soap opera children were cute little babies one day, the next week they were six and six months later they were graduating from high school. Some children were sent upstairs or to the garage and were never heard from or mentioned again (Chuck on Happy Days, for instance).
Watching tv growing up we didn’t have a color set, so it seemed things were only black and white, that there was very little room for other colors.
In retrospect, my life is full of color.
My mom, while she could dress up and look beautiful, was very human. She would scold (not really yell) sweat and laugh. Like tv moms, she knew when I was planning something wrong, and could kiss the hurts away. Dinner was not always on the table, but there was a warm breakfast waiting for me every morning. She had a car and was not stranded at home, but Stupid was notorious for stranding us other places. She never said “wait till your father gets home”, because she didn’t want us dreading him coming home, she wanted us to be excited to see our dad. I could see her brown eyes and the gray in her hair as she looked at me with love.
My dad did leave the house to go to work, but he didn’t wear a suit every day and he would walk most days. If I was really lucky, I would get to go to work with him and “help” him do things, and I didn’t have to wait for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Dad would play along with us as we played “office”. He mowed the grass, fixed the cars and provided for our family, but he also taught the whole neighborhood how to play soccer. He was at every school program and helped with our homework. He had a farmer’s tan, silver hair and sparkling green eyes. Because he made mistakes, he was definitely not black and white.
I have a younger brother and he absolutely is in color. He raised turtles, horned toads, rabbits and Stubby the dog. He had broken bones, crooked teeth and a mini-bike. He fell in love in high school, married her and gave me a niece and two nephews. His family has struggled through job changes and other struggles, and came out loving each other more. He’s a three-dimensional, completely human mistake maker, and I love him dearly.
Being “grown up” I now know that some problems can’t be defined in 30 minutes, let alone be solved. Everything is not always rosy and life is unfair. My parents helped me learn that, and I am glad they did. They also let me learn some things for myself, which only made me stronger. You see, I’m not black and white either.
My life is full of vibrant colors. Not just black and white, there are grays, blues, reds and greens. Color creates room to wiggle, to make mistakes and to forgive. Color makes room for people with different opinions, and flowers and trees.
I’m grateful for the things television did teach me, but I’m more grateful that I’m able to live life and not sit on a couch and watch it pass me by. My life doesn’t fit in a little box on the shelf that I turn off and on. It’s a healthy, full throttle adventure with bumps and twists, sometimes a little scary or lonely, but totally impromptu. I pick the cast, and the location, and I know that each day will be more colorful than the day before. I can’t wait to see tomorrow!
Stevie
copyright Fort Worth TX 2009
Having watched Leave It to Beaver, The Andy Griffith show, the Brady Bunch, Bewitched and The Waltons, among others, I started pondering on what I learned from television.
For instance:
Moms were always dressed up, smelled nice and never yelled. Dinner was waiting on the table and friends, as well as dad’s boss, would be welcome without any notice. She would instinctively know when plans were being made that would lead to trouble, and could always kiss the hurts away. No matter the time, cookies were coming out of the oven and milk would be available in glass bottles in the refrigerator. She never gained weight and had terrific manners. The only discipline moms ever did was sending the children to their rooms to wait for their father.
Dad would leave for work every morning in the only car, leaving mom “stranded” at home. He would work all day in an office doing something that was never explained, reliving his glory days of playing football, baseball, tennis or squash, while drinking coffee. If he wasn’t in the office, he would have meetings on the golf course. He was the disciplinarian because Mom would say, “Just wait till your father comes home!” It was his responsibility to hand out the chores, pay the bills, mow the grass and make enough money to keep the family going.
The children were always in trouble, and could never seem to remember instructions. Lunch money was lost, bikes were stolen and feelings were hurt. The good news was that no matter what the problem, it could be solved in 30 minutes, an hour, or if it was a really big problem it would be continued to the next week, so it might take two hours. The solution always left everyone smiling and relieved that little Timmy, Beaver, Greg or Marcia had been dealt with. Talks were always frank and open and everyone got to share their feelings, ending in group hugs or being grounded depending on the crisis of the week.
Families weren’t necessarily only mom, dad and kids. Sometimes grandparents, housekeepers and genies were there. Aunts, uncles and cousins would invariably drop in and create such havoc that everybody was relieved when they left. Visits from in-laws sent Mom into a tailspin as she tried to make the house spotless. Of course the family dog, Spot, Tiger, Lassie or Comet ALWAYS tracked mud in just as the visitors arrived. It didn’t matter, soon everyone was laughing about it.
Children were never alone, afraid, hurt, ignored or lonely. There were few “only children” families. Each family had at least two children, maybe three, but no more. Parents slept in twin beds, which was the reason there were no more than 2 children. Mr. and Mrs. Walton however, slept in one bed and they had 7 children. There is a correlation here. Sex was talked about , hinted at and children were born, but it was never actually shown. Soap opera children were cute little babies one day, the next week they were six and six months later they were graduating from high school. Some children were sent upstairs or to the garage and were never heard from or mentioned again (Chuck on Happy Days, for instance).
Watching tv growing up we didn’t have a color set, so it seemed things were only black and white, that there was very little room for other colors.
In retrospect, my life is full of color.
My mom, while she could dress up and look beautiful, was very human. She would scold (not really yell) sweat and laugh. Like tv moms, she knew when I was planning something wrong, and could kiss the hurts away. Dinner was not always on the table, but there was a warm breakfast waiting for me every morning. She had a car and was not stranded at home, but Stupid was notorious for stranding us other places. She never said “wait till your father gets home”, because she didn’t want us dreading him coming home, she wanted us to be excited to see our dad. I could see her brown eyes and the gray in her hair as she looked at me with love.
My dad did leave the house to go to work, but he didn’t wear a suit every day and he would walk most days. If I was really lucky, I would get to go to work with him and “help” him do things, and I didn’t have to wait for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Dad would play along with us as we played “office”. He mowed the grass, fixed the cars and provided for our family, but he also taught the whole neighborhood how to play soccer. He was at every school program and helped with our homework. He had a farmer’s tan, silver hair and sparkling green eyes. Because he made mistakes, he was definitely not black and white.
I have a younger brother and he absolutely is in color. He raised turtles, horned toads, rabbits and Stubby the dog. He had broken bones, crooked teeth and a mini-bike. He fell in love in high school, married her and gave me a niece and two nephews. His family has struggled through job changes and other struggles, and came out loving each other more. He’s a three-dimensional, completely human mistake maker, and I love him dearly.
Being “grown up” I now know that some problems can’t be defined in 30 minutes, let alone be solved. Everything is not always rosy and life is unfair. My parents helped me learn that, and I am glad they did. They also let me learn some things for myself, which only made me stronger. You see, I’m not black and white either.
My life is full of vibrant colors. Not just black and white, there are grays, blues, reds and greens. Color creates room to wiggle, to make mistakes and to forgive. Color makes room for people with different opinions, and flowers and trees.
I’m grateful for the things television did teach me, but I’m more grateful that I’m able to live life and not sit on a couch and watch it pass me by. My life doesn’t fit in a little box on the shelf that I turn off and on. It’s a healthy, full throttle adventure with bumps and twists, sometimes a little scary or lonely, but totally impromptu. I pick the cast, and the location, and I know that each day will be more colorful than the day before. I can’t wait to see tomorrow!
Stevie
copyright Fort Worth TX 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Song
For the last 10 years I have been involved with an organization called Royal Family Kids’ Camps. They provide camps for abused, abandoned and neglected children usually in the care of the state foster care system. These children understand more fully what it is like to not have anyone they can depend on, as most everyone in their lives are paid to be there. The ratio is two campers to one counselor so they have that close time so many of them lack.
I had met Catherine at camp two years earlier when she was my buddy counselor’s camper. She broke my heart that year when she was packing her stuff up and was trying leave mementos behind at the camp that she would get “next time”. I had to explain to her that the camp was used by more than just us and she would need to take everything with her. She was crushed. That year when I found out I was to be her counselor, I was excited. My second camper was unable to come, so it was one on one time with her for the whole week.
Practically from the time she got off the bus she started telling me that she wanted to sing in the Variety Show on Thursday night and then would burst into the song. “I am a sheep and the Lord is my shepherd, watching over my soul.*”
I never knew at what moment that song was going to burst forth from her. Maybe during 30-30 time in her bunk, walking to swim time; heading to chapel; even standing in the meal line it would just pour out of her. The other girls in our group grew tired of hearing her sing it, but I would quiet them telling them she needed to practice for the Variety Show on Thursday night. Sometimes we would sing together and hearing this child, who believed each word with all her heart, made it more meaningful to me than ever before.
I turned in her form for the show and then it was a waiting game. I kept asking her if she didn’t want some of the other girls to sing with her or if she wanted a cd to sing with and she kept assuring me, that no, she was fine. She would sing by herself.
Thursday night came and the acts got up one by one. She kept looking up at me “when is it my turn?” “When will I go on?” Finally I walked to the back and looked and saw the group was up next, but he didn’t have her listed. Hurriedly I explained the situation and he agreed that she could go on after the group. Two of our girls got up and did the camp theme song with bird puppets they had made during the week, then it was her turn. They handed the mike to her.
“I am a sheep and the Lord is my shepherd, watching over my soul.*” the timid little voice softly sang. “My soul to keep guarding over me ever, watching wherever I go.” A hush fell over the normally boisterous crowd.
This 11 year old girl was alone on stage singing to the God who had brought her through to this point in time. “And when the rains come he is my shelter; and when I’m lost and alone, he carries me; and when the lions come, he is my victory, constantly watching over me.” How those words resonated with her, through everything she had been through, God had been right there beside her. Crying when she cried, hurting when she hurt.
I was on my knees in the front row for moral support and to mouth the words in case she forgot, but she didn’t. My heart swelled with pride as my eyes filled with tears. This performance was the culmination of the week we had spent together at camp.
“We are his children and he is our Father watching over our souls. Great is His love for His sons and His daughters, watching wherever we go.” With each word she got louder and more certain. The audience, who had been singing with the Variety Show acts all night, joined together with her as a soft undertone, her clear voice leading us all. She was very much in command of the song, and suddenly there was nobody else in the room, just the two of us and God. The joy and expectation that he was her Father and was watching over her lit up her eyes. There was not a doubt in her whole being that God loved her and would be there for her where others failed.
Her voice swelled to the end, “He is constantly watching over me. He is constantly watching over me.” And the room exploded. She folded herself into my arms and we held on to each other, and it was just us. Tears were in my eyes as I was holding her telling how wonderful she was, and still we clung to each other in the middle of pandemonium, yells and screams and clapping. We were alone in the presence of God.
Copyright 2009 by Stevie Stevens, Fort Worth, TX
*I Am A Sheep, Words and Music by Dennis Jernigan Copyright © 1992 Shepherd’s Heart Music, Inc. (Admin. By Word Music Group, Inc.)
I had met Catherine at camp two years earlier when she was my buddy counselor’s camper. She broke my heart that year when she was packing her stuff up and was trying leave mementos behind at the camp that she would get “next time”. I had to explain to her that the camp was used by more than just us and she would need to take everything with her. She was crushed. That year when I found out I was to be her counselor, I was excited. My second camper was unable to come, so it was one on one time with her for the whole week.
Practically from the time she got off the bus she started telling me that she wanted to sing in the Variety Show on Thursday night and then would burst into the song. “I am a sheep and the Lord is my shepherd, watching over my soul.*”
I never knew at what moment that song was going to burst forth from her. Maybe during 30-30 time in her bunk, walking to swim time; heading to chapel; even standing in the meal line it would just pour out of her. The other girls in our group grew tired of hearing her sing it, but I would quiet them telling them she needed to practice for the Variety Show on Thursday night. Sometimes we would sing together and hearing this child, who believed each word with all her heart, made it more meaningful to me than ever before.
I turned in her form for the show and then it was a waiting game. I kept asking her if she didn’t want some of the other girls to sing with her or if she wanted a cd to sing with and she kept assuring me, that no, she was fine. She would sing by herself.
Thursday night came and the acts got up one by one. She kept looking up at me “when is it my turn?” “When will I go on?” Finally I walked to the back and looked and saw the group was up next, but he didn’t have her listed. Hurriedly I explained the situation and he agreed that she could go on after the group. Two of our girls got up and did the camp theme song with bird puppets they had made during the week, then it was her turn. They handed the mike to her.
“I am a sheep and the Lord is my shepherd, watching over my soul.*” the timid little voice softly sang. “My soul to keep guarding over me ever, watching wherever I go.” A hush fell over the normally boisterous crowd.
This 11 year old girl was alone on stage singing to the God who had brought her through to this point in time. “And when the rains come he is my shelter; and when I’m lost and alone, he carries me; and when the lions come, he is my victory, constantly watching over me.” How those words resonated with her, through everything she had been through, God had been right there beside her. Crying when she cried, hurting when she hurt.
I was on my knees in the front row for moral support and to mouth the words in case she forgot, but she didn’t. My heart swelled with pride as my eyes filled with tears. This performance was the culmination of the week we had spent together at camp.
“We are his children and he is our Father watching over our souls. Great is His love for His sons and His daughters, watching wherever we go.” With each word she got louder and more certain. The audience, who had been singing with the Variety Show acts all night, joined together with her as a soft undertone, her clear voice leading us all. She was very much in command of the song, and suddenly there was nobody else in the room, just the two of us and God. The joy and expectation that he was her Father and was watching over her lit up her eyes. There was not a doubt in her whole being that God loved her and would be there for her where others failed.
Her voice swelled to the end, “He is constantly watching over me. He is constantly watching over me.” And the room exploded. She folded herself into my arms and we held on to each other, and it was just us. Tears were in my eyes as I was holding her telling how wonderful she was, and still we clung to each other in the middle of pandemonium, yells and screams and clapping. We were alone in the presence of God.
Copyright 2009 by Stevie Stevens, Fort Worth, TX
*I Am A Sheep, Words and Music by Dennis Jernigan Copyright © 1992 Shepherd’s Heart Music, Inc. (Admin. By Word Music Group, Inc.)
Friday, October 2, 2009
Babies
Babies - God's gift to us. Incredible little bundles of joy. Spent the afternoon with my 3.5 week old great nephew. He wiggles and crinkles his nose and gurgles and hiccups. His arms are going all the time and he can fold up like a roly poly bug. I love every little thing about him.
He also fascinates me. Never having had the mother experience I have had to get my "baby fix" from friends and family. Kayden is our first baby in 13 years and we all dote on him. His every breath is recorded for posterity to be placed in a album left to gather dust on a shelf, unless you're me. My baby book is hauled out every so often and I revisit the days following my birth, trying to get a glimpse in the little bundle that grew up to be who the world knows as me.
I hold Kayden and wonder what his future holds. He's alert and very smart and at this point in time is the center of the universe for us. We eagerly awaited his arrival and celebrated on two continents when he arrived.
Babies, such an ingenious idea God had. Small compact little people, not quite self sufficient, but fully self contained. 10 little fingers, 1o little toes, two eyes, two ears, one mouth and a little nose.
I have to stop myself from aiding him at every little noise, because just like struggling from the coccoon builds strenth in the butterfly, so struggling for things strengthens the baby.
So to all the babies in my life, young and old, Heather and Josh, Caleb and Kayden, I love you and God bless each of you.
Stevie
He also fascinates me. Never having had the mother experience I have had to get my "baby fix" from friends and family. Kayden is our first baby in 13 years and we all dote on him. His every breath is recorded for posterity to be placed in a album left to gather dust on a shelf, unless you're me. My baby book is hauled out every so often and I revisit the days following my birth, trying to get a glimpse in the little bundle that grew up to be who the world knows as me.
I hold Kayden and wonder what his future holds. He's alert and very smart and at this point in time is the center of the universe for us. We eagerly awaited his arrival and celebrated on two continents when he arrived.
Babies, such an ingenious idea God had. Small compact little people, not quite self sufficient, but fully self contained. 10 little fingers, 1o little toes, two eyes, two ears, one mouth and a little nose.
I have to stop myself from aiding him at every little noise, because just like struggling from the coccoon builds strenth in the butterfly, so struggling for things strengthens the baby.
So to all the babies in my life, young and old, Heather and Josh, Caleb and Kayden, I love you and God bless each of you.
Stevie
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