Mardi Maigre?

(or Tuesdays with Morrie, er, Lessie?)
[Really, titles ARE half the fun]

Yesterday before church, one of the prayer warriors of the congregation, a man half my height with a spirit of fire twice as bright as anything I've ever experienced, told me that he plans to fast on my behalf every Tuesday throughout my cancer treatment.

My first thought was alarm -- I'm not worthy of this! It's too much and too undeserved. And I hardly know this gentleman!

"Oh," I stumbled, "You don't need to do that for me."
He grabbed my arm and said ferociously in his clipped Filipino accent, "Yes. I must. And I will."
"Um, thanks."
How does one respond to that? I felt like a spiritual lightweight. When have I ever fasted on someone else's behalf? When have I ever fasted?? Man, I love eating.

But, as I walked into church, I was even more blown away by a quick revelation: if I am awed that a human would fast on my behalf, how much more awe-inspiring is it that a perfect God would die on my behalf? It's shocking, unexpected, almost ludicrous.

Romans 5:7 says, Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Just think about it and be amazed. No other religion has a God, a perfect and creative and all-powerful God, who is willing to sacrifice himself on behalf of completely undeserving-to-be-rescued, and even often undesiring-to-be-rescued, sinful people. We are not worthy and never can be, even after a lifetime of pursuing a Christlike heart.

It makes me feel almost giddy to accept such a gift.

Milking It

Dialog #1.
Husband, moaning: My head hurts. I think it's my sinuses. And I'm so tired.
Me with feigned indifferent: Whatever. It's not like you have cancer.

Dialog #2:
Huckle: Hey! Who ate the whole bag of M&Ms?
Me: I did. Because I have cancer.

Dialog #3:
Me: Could someone please take out the garbage? I can't because I--
Husband, Huckle, and Sally: WE KNOW, WE KNOW. Because you have cancer.
Me: Well, actually, because I'm cooking dinner right now. But, you're right. Cancer patients shouldn't have to take out the garbage. Thanks!

Family Feud Category: Things That Grow Inside You

The ultrasound looking for cancer brought back vivid memories of other times I had lain on that table, looking at the images of Baby Huckle and Baby Sally growing in me. I found myself nonsensically scanning the screen for a beating heart, even though the probe was nowhere near my abdomen. And, obviously not seeing any beating heart, it struck me all over again why I was there. It was chilling, literally (you know what I mean if you've had one of those probes run across your naked flesh) and figuratively.

Oddly enough, the experiences have some things in common besides the technology used to image them. Both were experiences of heart-pounding anticipation and of having a secret inside me that would rock my world and the worlds of people who love me. Both were mysteriously growing inside me and using my metabolic energy to feed themselves.

And obviously that's where the differences end: one was a sweet baby, desired and already loved. The other was cancer, dreaded and detested.

Decisions

I've been agonizing over some big treatment decisions. Today's realization: stop stressing about taking care of this current cancer and future cancers all at once. That makes the decisions too big and requires information I will not have now. Instead, I need to start by coping with just this cancer. I will then deal with future risks as a separate issue.

Sounds obvious, but it isn't when you are in the middle of it all.

You Know Your Problem Is Serious When...

... the head pastor of your big church calls to pray with you.

Chariots of Fire

It's a Bible story about which you may have not given any thought since your Sunday school days. It's one of those great in-your-face-you-idol-worshipers! stories from the book of 2 Kings: God blinds the vengeful enemy army and Elisha leads them into the middle of the main Israelite city. When the confused soldiers' eyes are opened, they are not surrounded and killed by the Israelites (as they can planned to do to the Israelites) but they are wined and dined and sent on their merry (still confused) way.
That's the story we taught last Sunday to our very wiggly 1st grade class. It's a fun one to teach.

There is one part of the story that had come to my mind several times before preparing the lesson, and that's the part way at the beginning (pre-blinding) about Elisha's terrified servant, seeing the enemy army with their horses and chariots surrounding their city. A calm Elisha prays that God will open the servant's eyes, and suddenly the servant can see "the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha."
Sometimes over the past few weeks I've felt like Elisha's servant. I've felt as if I've had my eyes opened to see beyond normality. I see purpose where others might only see meaninglessness or bad karma, I see a plan where others might think chaos reigns.
Last year was tough by any human's standards. But the life outcome of the pain was even better than the pre-pain life -- I was blessed beyond imagining -- and Lesson #1 was this: don't trust in others, trust only in God. Others may betray you, but God never will.
Cancer is a word that strikes fear in most people's hearts. But I feel as if my eyes have already been opened to Lesson #2: don't trust in yourself, trust only in God. Your body may betray you, but God never will.
It's a logical progression and beautiful plan. But it will be a tough lesson. I am used to being healthy and able and active and self-sufficient. My strong sense of self is what my friend Carolyn would call a 'stronghold' in my life. I need to find my identity in Christ, not in my body or my health or my feelings. And shaking my sense of self will be shaking my world to its fiery core. But I also see that God has gathered for me an amazing support network. The chariots of fire are in place.

And then sometimes I fall back into weakness and I think, why me? Why should I have so much pain and heartache and testing in rapid succession? Why can't I have my normal life back?

I'm a former athlete, a runner who found self-esteem and confidence in high school track and cross country. (Eh? You seeing the 2nd reason for calling this post 'Chariots of Fire'? Heh, heh, I think I'm pretty clever] Our coach did not push all his runners equally. He definitely pushed some harder than others. I remember being extremely annoyed that he sometimes made me run with the boys instead of letting me run with my friends, who would have made it much more fun instead of acting all awkward and doing all that spitting and sweating and putting on macho displays (nothing could be more insulting to a high school boy's masculinity than to make him run with a girl). But it was because my coach saw in me some undeveloped potential. He pushed me harder than others because he knew I could perform better than I was. And I hope that is God's purpose now in my life. I am honored that He is allowing these events to happen in my life because He sees undeveloped potential and He wants me to move beyond my current state to bring Him more glory. Lord, help me trust in you and persevere in the lessons you are teaching me. Help me use this opportunity to develop a heart more like Yours.

My First MRI (And My First Pasties!!)

As a medical writer, I've been writing about MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) technology for years. I know, though only very basically, how they work, how they are used, and their advantages and disadvantages compared to other imaging technologies. Well, today I had my first MRI experience. It was pretty much as expected, lying as still as possible in a big white machine that clanged and banged and rumbled.

My life has been clanging and banging and rumbling since this breast cancer diagnosis last Friday, or really since my doctor first felt a lump a month ago. Life has been a maelstrom of doctor appointments, mammograms, ultrasounds, and consultations on top of the usual parenting, work, and seasonal Christmas preparations. But the half hour lying still in this machine, unable and unallowed to do anything except lie still, gave me moments of peace in the center of the storm. So I got some good quality prayer time. And that's a blessing, since -- even though I know how critical prayer is -- it's hard to have a calm heart and take time from a frantically busy time. And prayer was also a blessing during the MRI because, when someone tells you to keep your breathing regular, the last thing you want to do is concentrate on keeping your breathing regular. Prayer was a perfect distraction.

Although the MRI was much as I expected, there were some surprises. First, the technician (who wasn't warm and friendly), sticks her hand into my 'dressing room' holding two little spongy doughnut-shaped stickers. "Here," she said gruffly. "These go on your nipples. I don't know why, but the radiologist said to." Ok! My first pasties! (No tassles though.) All the same, it was nice to have an unexpected laugh. The other surprise, far less pleasant, was that the experience required an iv. Less than a week ago, I fainted after my biopsy (yep, I'm a fainter), so the thought of more bleeding-related medical experiences made my heart drop. And I didn't dare even ask why I needed an iv -- too concerned that the explanation would make me queasy. Ms. Crankypants Technician wasn't crazy about having a fainter on her hands either. "Next time, you might want to go to the hospital for your MRI. We aren't nurses, you know." Apparently technician school doesn't have a required course called MRI-Side Manners 101. (And, really, if I had known the experience would involve an iv and a grumpy tech, I wouldn't have signed on for an MRI anywhere.) Anyway, after getting all settled on the "bed" (the tech was unhappy that I was too tall to fit as well as her normal-sized patients; I was turning out to be a very bad patient!) and lying in the machine listening to clanks for a good 20 minutes, I felt a faint coming on (when our friendly technician said she was putting something in the iv and this was the most important part so hold still) -- the racing heart, the pounding blood in my ears, clammy skin, loss of sensation in my extremities. [Technician, disgusted: "What do you mean, you feel like fainting?! If you do, we'll have to start completely over."] Usually, that's the end of it -- I've never stopped a faint before. But I prayed double-over-time, picturing God as my refuge and strength, my ever-present help in time of need. And I've got an incredible network of family and friends out there praying for me too. AND I was lying on my stomach with my heart level with my head and feet. Hooray! My heart rate calmed and I was flooded with relief. Thank you, Lord! I felt empowered.

And now more waiting for results, all of which are supposed to help me decide among my surgical options. Too bad 'no surgery' isn't an option. This is going to involve more blood, isn't it.

Graceful Friends

Some of the most important friendships in my life are less than a year old. Through the church my family attends and the Christian school my children attend, I have come into contact with some amazing Christian women and developed deep friendships with some of these fun, wise, caring individuals. And God's timing is perfect, because the past year has been one of the toughest in my life.

This past week, I had to get a breast biopsy. These kind women offered to come with me, but I -- weak in my self-sufficiency -- declined.

And then I wished I hadn't declined when the procedure was more involved and traumatic than anticipated.

Still, I didn't ask for help when I came home, even though I felt weak and nauseous when I got home and my husband was out of town and my children are young enough to need help with homework and supper and bedtime.

I thank God for staging a friend intervention! One friend insisted on coming over to help with bedtime. Then she came again in the morning to help get the kids off to school. Another friend drove them to school and picked them up. Dinner was brought to our family and more offers to childcare and accompaniment came.

It was truly overwhelming and humbling to be on the receiving end of so much kindness. I did nothing to deserve these women's kindness and love. At first, I felt indebted and ashamed of my needs. I like to stay 'in the black' when it comes to favors -- always offering, never asking. I like to feel that I have everything under control.

But then it struck me that these women's actions are a beautiful illustration of grace. We do nothing to deserve God's love and providence in our lives. And that's the whole point of grace -- freely given, never earned or deserved. My friends are so in tune with God that they are acting as His arms and legs and loving heart. And I need to get over my insolent self-sufficiency and accept grace graciously and humbly because I do not deserve it, not in spite of my not deserving it.

Today I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. I still know very little about the treatment pathway ahead of me, but my mother's fight with breast cancer is still fresh in my memory. All the same, it's comforting to know that God is on His throne and in control despite threats to my health and life. I dread the diagnosis and treatment and its effect on my family, but I also look forward to seeing how God will use this situation to draw me closer to Him. And I am grateful for His perfect timing, gathering godly friends around me to hug me with His arms and speak His words of comfort.

Broken Toys

There's a desk in our family room with the family calendar, a drawer overflowing with office supplies, the answering machine with its sidekick post-it notepad, and a pile of field trip permission slips and other timely papers. It's the typical unorganized family organizational hub. It's the place we set things that need to be dealt with. And there's one spot on that desk where my daughter Sally sets her broken toys that need fixing -- usually just a craft that needs to be re-glued or a ribbon that needs untangling or a small toy that needs to be put back together. She shows me the toy and then puts it on the desk. She knows that if she puts it there, I will fix it. (Eventually and imperfectly -- they often stack up. And 'fixing' often means throwing something away that cannot be repaired or returning the toy in a fragile state and knowing it's going to end up on the desk again in a matter of days.)

Anyway, this spot for broken toys came to mind as an analogy this morning. There are so many people for whom I am praying urgently -- a broken marriage, a broken sense of peace, friends and family members struggling with despair and fears and loss. Even though I have had powerful experiences of God's healing, I often find myself feeling as if my prayers for these people aren't enough. I feel helpless to help them and desperately want to DO something and do it now.

I have to remind myself that praying on their behalf is helping in the most productive, powerful way possible. Yes, I should also be open to other ways of helping but should never underestimate prayer as the most effective way to help. I can't fix someone else's marriage or restore their peace or wipe away their fears. I can provide a listening ear, but only God can ultimately fix these. He cares for them more than I can, and His plan for them is better than my hopes on their behalf.

And so I saw my morning prayer as a time when I bring these broken things to God's attention. I leave them right there on his lap, the spot where He fixes what is broken. Unlike me, who fixes things eventually and imperfectly, God can do a perfect fix every time. Things end up better than they started when they are left in his care.

It would be like Sally handing me a stuffed animal cat with a torn ear and me handing her back a kitten.

Lord, please bless the people on my heart. Work in these situations to Your glory, and restore them to joy -- a joy more complete than that of a 6-year-old with a new kitten.

The Lost Proverb 32: The Husband of Noble Character

The book of Proverbs ends with Proverbs 31, often titled 'The Wife of Noble Character'. Women have been known to complain that this sets the standard too high. Some explain that this is not a standard but a composite of all the noble traits women have, and others say the woman in the proverb is an analogy for wisdom.

This is a spoof on Proverbs 31, in honor of my husband. Obviously I'm not really trying to add to the Bible. I hope you can tell from previous posts how seriously I take the Bible.

A husband of noble character, who can find?
He is worth far more than an exquisitely furnished mansion on a tropical island.
His wife is full of confidence in him and lacks nothing of value (including a 30-foot yacht to reach said island).
He brings her good, never harm, all the days of his life.
He writes out a shopping list and 'eagerly' offers to pick up the groceries on his way home from work. He comes home like a semi truck laden with everything necessary to run the household (and some unnecessary things too, like those bright orange 'cheese doodles').
He gets up while it is still dark to exercise and read the Bible and pray. That is his thoughtful way to ensure that his wife doesn't have childcare duty during his personal time.
He considers major purchases carefully (like that big screen tv he had his eye on) and discusses them respectfully with his wife before buying, even though he IS the main breadwinner.
He works hard at his desk job and then works out to have strong arms.
He checks on the bank accounts and changes light bulbs around the house so his reading lamp does not go out at night (or, more correctly, he goes out before the lamp does).
His hands are busy texting his wife between meetings to remind her of his love (and check what groceries need fetching).
He is generous in his giving to the poor and is always ready to help a friend or stranger.
When it snows, he knows his family is safe (even though that skylight keeps leaking) and that every family member has brightly colored hats and mittens and coats (that they sometimes even wear inside since he's trying to keep the heating bills down).
He makes the bed when he was the last one out and buys his own clothes (like those brightly-colored striped socks and running shoes with toes).
His wife is considered blessed to have an attentive and respected husband. She goes out for a Mom's Night Out and realizes yet again how blessed she is.
He sews on missing buttons and helps his son sell Cub Scout popcorn.
He is clothed in strength and dignity (right down to those brightly-colored striped socks and running shoes with toes).
He makes people laugh.
But he also knows God's wisdom and speaks wise words. He is full of sound advice but also knows when to just listen.
He plays with the kids instead of playing video games.
His children run to meet him at the door when they hear his car in the driveway. Even his wife has been known to do this, and not just when she needs his listening ear after a rough day.
Many men are noble, but he is the one for me. Others chase charm and beauty, but my noble husband is a man after God's heart. He fears the Lord.
And so I praise him publicly. I love you, Husband!

Debridement

I'm a freelance medical writer, developing educational materials for pharmaceutical companies. My latest project is on wound healing, a new topic for me. As a queazy person, the images that accompany medical references on chronic wounds have been difficult to view. But the topic is interesting, and I always love learning something new. With this project, I've learned a new word: 'debridement'. Debridement is the excision of dead or infected tissue of the wound to promote healing. It's an important procedure. [And if you are strong-stomached, you can look up 'debridement' on Wikipedia and see a really gross picture. Note the part about the use of maggots for debridement. Ick, ick, ick.]

Anyway, as I continue my week of waiting before a biopsy, I see this waiting time is God's way of debriding my heart. He wants me to rely on Him, not on my self-sufficiency or control or will. He is surgically removing the necrotic and devitalized tissue to promote my healing, removing the rebellious corners of my heart so mine can be more like His.

Tear deeply, Lord. It hurts, but I want a heart like Yours. Give me strength to go through this and faith in your perfect plan.

Similar imagery is used in the Bible: the pruning of vines, the winnowing of grain, and the refining of precious metal.
A friend sent me this poem, copied from her devotional book two days ago:

"He sat by a fire of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore,
And closer He bent with a searching gaze
As He heated it more and more.
He knew He had ore that could stand the test,
And he wanted the finest gold
To mould as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems with a price untold.
So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho' we fain would have said Him "Nay,"
And He watched the dross that we had not seen,
And it melted and passed away.
And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were so dim with tears,
We saw but the fire - not the Master's hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.
Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow,
As it mirrored a Form above,
That bent o'er the fire, tho' unseen by us,
With a look of ineffable love.
Can we think that it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He saw through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.
So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat,
Than was needed to make it pure."

Staring At Mortality

One week ago today, my doctor found a lump. Yup, I'm not even 40, I lead a healthy lifestyle, I do the monthly exams (okay, just sort of), etc. etc. So I was completely shocked. Yes, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer a mere two years ago, but not until her mid-60s.

The very next day, I went in for a mammogram and ultrasound. The radiologist reported to me that his findings were suspicious, so now I'm scheduled for a biopsy with a breast surgeon. (I didn't even know there was such a specialty!)

AND now I have a whole week to sit here and worry.

And worry I have done. But I'm also fighting my worry. I have just finished a year of the biggest stressor in my life, and I have learned all sorts of unforgettable lessons about God's faithfulness and care. I have seen firsthand that He answers prayer above and beyond our wildest hopes and expectations. I have learned to rely on Him as my refuge and strength in the face of devastation. In fact, just days before my doctor's shocking find, I had said to my two prayer buddies, "This lesson will be a Standing Stone throughout my life. I will never forget what I have learned about God's amazing care and faithfulness, and I will never doubt again. If He could get me through THAT, then He can get me through anything."

Me and my big mouth? Possibly He was using that circumstance to prepare me for something else big -- a close look at my own mortality. Even if the lump comes to nothing, I am being forced to again prove my allegiance to Him during this week of waiting for further news.

Lord, my allegiance IS with You. Please help me fight my anxieties and fears. Help me to rest in You, knowing that Your grace is sufficient for all my needs. I wait on You, as the watchmen wait for the dawn. Help me loosen my grasp on this world, even on my own family. My love for them and desire to care for them is nothing compared to Your love for them and ability to care for them. I trust in You.

I have also prayed over and over again these past few days that I might more fully feel His presence. And He answers prayer. I have felt an outpouring of love from the close friends who know what's going on. An kind email full of thoughtfully chosen Bible verses. A phone call offering encouragement and practical information. A surprise visit with a hug, a prayer, and a Bible passage specially marked just for me. An offer to accompany me to the doctor appointment. And the most heartfelt prayer time I've ever shared with my own mother. These women are speaking with God's words and hugging with God's arms and praying the thoughts on His mind. God's goodness makes me cry even more than my own mortality does. I am blessed beyond belief with the wise and godly women who surround and uplift me and the God who put them in my life.

On a lighter note, it's funny how everything reminds me of breast cancer. Like using a knife to remove all those eyes from the potatoes I was preparing for dinner. Lumpectomy? I was more careful than usual to excise as little healthy potato tissue as possible.

And I'm wondering how God will bless me this time beyond my wildest imaginings and thinking how great it would be to end up not only cancer-free but with really big boobs.
Just throwing the idea out there, God!

Longings

A friend's comment last month gave me food for thought about longings.

Of course everybody longs for something: success, wealth, happiness, peace, a lifelong romance, a child, a tropical vacation. But life so easily becomes a quest to fulfill our longings, or at least to get as close to fulfillment as possible.

My friend was talking about how sad she feels every time she puts away her youngest child's outgrown clothing, knowing that her family won't need them anymore. She loves having a baby in the house, and it makes her sad to realize that her fourth will be her last. And, even if she and her husband decided to have a 5th child, that baby would grow up too. (Okay, a quick aside: I can empathize with her, but I can't totally relate. I love Huckle and Sally, but TWO is plenty. Sometime feels like more than plenty.) My friend feels torn between two temporal pleasures: the pleasure of having a baby and the pleasure of watching a baby grow up. She can never have both permanently -- it's an impossible outcome of human life.

Anyway, my friend ended this wistful talk by saying that this longing serves to remind her of heaven. And I think that's such a beautiful reflection. None of our longings can be perfectly fulfilled on earth. My friend's children cannot stay babies. But, instead of feeling frustrated or unfulfilled, we can turn that longing heavenward and remember what is waiting for us: a perfect existence without want or sorrow or unfulfilled longing. All our longings are for a perfection that is heaven.

It's a little like Plato's concept of Forms: we recognize objects on earth (for example, dogs) not because they all look alike or because we've seen a perfect object (dog) but because they represent a perfect, non-material object. Our longings are a craving for perfect fulfillment -- a perfect fulfillment that does not exist on earth (rationally, it's ridiculous to pursue something so impossible) but that we recognize through our eternal souls. Our longings for perfect fulfillment are the watermark of heaven imprinted on our souls.

Lord, use my longings for Your glory. Turn them from selfish dissatisfaction to signposts reminding me of heaven, where foolish desires fade and the deepest desires of my soul will be satisfied by your presence.

Super Power

(Written 3/2010)

I have been trying to master a top-secret superpower lately: a power I’ve always known but never fully grasped its potential. And it’s more amazing than I could have ever imagined.

Here’s how it works:

You confide to me a challenge you face? SHAZAM! I pray for you.

You look sad or angry as you walk past me? POW! I pray for you.

You cut me off in traffic? BAM! I pray for you (you little prick).

It’s incredible. I know, because I’ve been praying lately about bad situations in my life and, as a result, have seen firsthand the power of prayer. My mom’s battle with breast cancer? ZING! Covered by prayer. My dad’s potentially serious accident? WHAM! Covered by prayer. Severe depression of someone close to me? KAPOW! You wouldn’t even believe the power I’ve witnessed.

And one of the greatest parts about it: the person I’m praying for (the prayee?) not only doesn’t have to know he or she is being prayed for but doesn’t even have to believe. Think of Elisha praying for his patroness’ dead son. He was dead! But he still benefited by coming back to life – you can’t get much better than that! Yes, the power of prayer.

It’s like J. Sidlow Baxter once said, “Men may spurn our appeals, reject our message, oppose our arguments, despise our persons, but they are helpless against our prayers.” (ZAP!)

But don’t get me wrong. I don’t take credit for any of these changes. It’s not really my super power. I’m more like Sherlock’s Dr. Watson. Or Batman’s Robin. Or the snotty little kid that brags about how strong her daddy is compared to yours. I’m the sidekick that comes along for the ride, helps in a really minor way, and then stands there smiling smugly as the power is unleashed and has its profound effects. But it still feels really great. God tells us just to pray about it, and He’ll handle the rest. And then He really does.

This is still new. Like I said, I’ve always heard about the power of prayer and believed it. But now I’m really, truly using it. And that elusive “peace that passes all understanding” that I’ve been chasing for years? Got it, Baby. (POW!)
And I also recognize that there’s a second step I need to take: removing the top-secret from the super power. Think of Peter in the first chapters of the book of Acts. At Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit had taken hold of the apostles and they began to amaze the crowds by speaking foreign languages, Peter then stands up and explains this power source to the crowds. Not secret there!

In the very next chapter of Acts, Peter and John heal the man lame from birth. Again, a huge crowd gathers to gape at the miracle, and Peter uses the opportunity to witness about the source of the power and how each believer can draw from it. Prayer is a power to share. You use it to promote God’s work, and then you explain it to others so they can use it. You pass it on.

I’ve seen the power. Now I need to pray for bravery to witness about it. Strange how hard that seems. When I absolutely love a store or a product or a book, I have no problem telling everyone I know about it. So why am I keeping this super power top secret?

No fear: I know exactly how to go about getting that bravery. ZING! Acts 4 includes a beautiful prayer for boldness as God’s witnesses. And the prayer is so powerful that the house shakes.

Secure the picture frames, here it comes...!

Tasty Tossings? Trash Talk? (the title possibilities seem limitless!)

I don't usually give much thought to the roadside trash I jog past, except to wonder why people can't hold on to their garbage until they get home. But every now and then, a piece of trash gets me wondering. That CD wedged in the brush -- did you decide you didn't like it? did your CD player eject too hard and the car window was down? does it contain important evidence of a white collar crime?? or a master criminal's evil plan to destroy the earth??? Okay, probably not, but it's worth considering if it distracts my mind long enough to get me back home without thinking about how tired my legs are.

Anyway, today's item of wonderment was a vanilla extract bottle. It's easy to imagine people (thoughtless, inconsiderate people) pitching the soda can, empty cigarette pack, and chip bag that flanked the vanilla extract bottle. But under what circumstances does one toss a vanilla bottle from their car? Baking on the go? Do-it-yourself Vanilla Coke? Emergency cologne to impress a date? Desperate enough for alcohol to down a bottle of vanilla? Apparently, that's not as far-fetched as I thought while jogging.

http://www.ispub.com/journal/the_internet_journal_of_family_practice/volume_4_number_1_17/article_printable/adolescent_ethanol_intoxication_from_vanilla_extract_ingestion_a_case_report.html

How sad! I think I'll go back to imagining that pollution is the saddest thing going on here.

Small Change

Every Sunday my 8-year-old son “Huckle” puts 8 cents in the church collection plate. This Sunday, as he held his coins (loudly trying to keep them quiet) in anticipation of the offering plate passing, I wondered what the deacons think every Sunday when the ‘takings’ end in $0.08. My experience with that deacon duty was the small change could be an irritation – it took a long time to count considering its meager value. I know, I know – as soon as that thought entered my head, I would remember Jesus pointing out the widow and her two small coins (Luke 21:1-4). I know these thoughts are sinful. It’s not about how much is given but about how it is given, the state of the heart.

But now I recognize the value of these coins as going even beyond the current state of the giver’s heart. My son’s eight cents is a tithing of his seventy-five cent allowance. So his offering is symbolic of a heart in training -- training for a lifetime of the discipline, obedience, and joy of giving back the first-fruits to the Giver of All Good Things. I pray that he will always acknowledge the One from whom all blessings flow and will offer all aspects of his life, not just his money, to God’s service. I pray that his small change that will become big change.

Need to Write

I've taken a long break from blogging. But, oddly, in the meantime I've grown in my desire to write. I've started (but not finished) journal entries, short stories, and books for kids. I even took an on-line fiction writing class. But I'm so disappointed with my meager skills! And I don't just say that from modesty -- that's blatant honesty.

Why would I be given a passion for writing without being given the skill to do it well? I've struggled with that in my head even though the answer is obvious: most gifts do not come fully formed but need constant use to be of use. Musicians practice for hours a day to perfect their music, artisans work years to perfect their art. And so do writers. I think of Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers, in which the authors says that those who are truly considered gifted have typically put in 10,000 hours of practice. Whew! Okay, maybe by the time of 80 if I keep at it. But I'll never achieve anything without consistent attempts, so it's time to just plunge in and write.

So here I am again, trying to grow in skill and comfort. Lord, if this really is a gift You can use, please give me the courage to keep trying and guidance in its use for Your glory.