Stop Waiting

In the late sixties, it became fashionable for young Christians, of which I was one, to “wait upon the Lord,” as per the Psalm. The popular interpretation was that one should ignore any personal desire and wait for direction from God, seemingly a “Thy will not mine” attitude but it in reality a bow to eastern religions that label all needs and desires evil.
Today people say “let go and let God,” an admirable sentiment if it means letting go of pain, worry, hatred, etc.,” but not so if “letting go” means abdicating.
One possible outcome of abdication is wasteful but harmless: The abdicator watches as life runs down hill like spilled water to the lowest possible level—no goals, no ambitions, no dreams—a simple, howbeit harmless existence. Like the servant who buried his talent, these abdicators lead fearful, unfruitful lives.
Another likely possibility: Someone attached to the abdicator by love or family or both is forced to make life decisions for that person. The resulting stress is harmful to both parties and to the relationship.
The most onerous consequence: An opportunistic or psychotic person makes decisions for the abdicator, convincing him or her that those decisions are the will of God and that his or her compliance is a mark of righteousness. The result is pure evil.
I have come to believe that “waiting on the Lord” does not mean standing still but “waiting” in the sense of “serving”—doing the works that God created us to do; allowing Him to steer a moving vehicle, not forcing Him to push a dead one.
Only when we know and voice our desires can we ask that God’s will be done and recognize and accept when He gives us something better.

A Living Sacrifice

I do not know what I would do,
if I were asked to die for you.
I pray that I would gladly die,
for the hope that lies ahead.

But sadly I confess it’s true,
it’s harder far to live for you,
and be a living sacrifice,
than to lie among the dead.

So Father, help me gladly stay
upon the straight and narrow way.
And change my heart that daily sighs,
“I’d rather die instead.”

Cat Scratch Fever

Yes, it is a real disease and I have it. Have I mentioned we are taking care of a cat, who came to us as a flea-bitten kitten just before Halloween? Well, we are. His name is Punkin' and he bites and scratches. I have the characteristic papule on my wrist and a very painful area in my arm pit that could be a swollen lymph node, and the pain is slowly moving down my arm. The internet says that cases usually resolve without treatment after a month or so, but this hurts! So I saw my doctor and am on an antibiotic.


So far, Punkin’ has broken a cheap candleholder, unplugged my printer twice, left scratches on my hands and thighs, climbed my kitchen door and forced me to cover the screen, drunk out of the toilet and trained me to keep the lid down, peed on my white bed spread and on my husband's fresh laundry and cost me nearly $100 for an office visit and antibiotic. But he also has stare-offs with squirrels outside our glass door. He, for reasons known only to cats, careens from room to room sliding crazily on our hardwood floors, fights his reflection, makes toys out of everything from ball points to lint and cuddles and purrs "like a kitten."

We will give him back to our daughter when she moves into her new apartment, and we will miss him, but gladly.

THe Schreiber Sisters

         My sisters and I began singing together in church and for family reunions when I was eleven and my youngest sister at the time was seven. The Lennons were singing back then, and I was younger than their youngest. When I was twelve, we joined the Jack Noel Happy Valley country show that traveled to county fairs all over Indiana, Illinois and Ohio. Eventually, we sang every week on WTTV, first when it was located in Bloomington, Indiana then, when it moved to Indianapolis in the sixties, we drove there every week. The station was owned by Sarkis Tarzian whose son now owns WRCB in Chattanooga. Our appearances continued until I left for college in nineteen-sixty-seven.

"My Grace is Sufficient"

Occasionally I write what is known as “inspirational” pieces. I don’t do it on purpose. I want what I write to be true and edifying, but I am hard pressed to give non-fiction a “happy” ending. The best I can hope for in most cases is to present a conundrum. To ask, “How, in the light of Christ, does this situation make sense?” “What can a Christian do; how does a Christian cope?” and to prayerfully say that only God has the answers, and I am not privy to most of them. Given this disclaimer, you are warned that the following story is true.

Simply stated, our congregation is watching a young family lose their baby son to the same metabolic disease that took their only daughter a little over a year ago at the age of four. Both children were born with no apparent problems, but during the short time Danielita was on this earth, she lost the ability to hold up her head, the ability to eat solid food, her smile, her laugh, her life. Without a miracle, we will watch these young parents relive the most horrible experience I can imagine.

We prayed for Danielita for four years. We are praying for Daniel.

The Younger Generation

My daughter tells me she just “fools around with” her electronic gizmos until she figures out how to do whatever it is she is trying to do. My brain will not go there.

In fact, I would rather buy a used camera like two that I actually knew how to use than try to re-learn how to download pictures. (I want to post the one-of-a-kind wreaths I am making for a sale in November.) HP has stopped making that camera, probably because the battery compartment has a latch that gets broken easily. (I know this because both of my cameras bit the dust for that reason.) I ordered a third camera on eBay;  it arrived today. The latch is broken. I disputed the sale and was asked to send it back.

I don’t know why the seller wants it back unless he is determined to sell it again. (I was tempted to take an indelible marker and write DEFECTIVE on the body, but I didn’t. )

Without a camera, I am resorting to my new phone. I have the pictures taken, now I am looking for the manual to maybe figure out how to upload them via Facebook. See you in the loony bin.

The Battle for Education

A friend of my daughter is studying to be a secondary teacher and, as one of the requirements for her degree, spent Friday observing in a local high school. This particular school is one that has been praised in the media of late for its great improvement; no guns have been reported in over a year, and no students or teachers have been permanently injured.


She saw two fights break out in the hall, neither of which was reported. She heard students using fowl language on phones and other electronic communications during classes without consequence. She heard the same language directed at teachers, and she witnessed teachers trash talking students and the teaching profession.

God bless her; she still wants to teach, and she wants to teach in just such a school. She will be giving her talent, her youth, her enthusiasm and her potential earning power to a system and a student body that will show no appreciation and could potentially do her bodily harm. She and others like her are on the front lines of a war that needs to be waged by all of us.

And, praise God, the community surrounding that school has joined the battle. This month they raised over twenty thousand dollars to fund a “Bible in the Schools” teacher for the next three years. Whoever holds that position will be a seasoned professional and a practicing Christian whose faith and commitment will be tested daily. Please pray for God to bless all those who are willing to sacrifice so much to bring true peace and knowledge to our schools.