Foreclosure

At the top of a hill, in the curve of a narrow gravel road is a small single level house with a porch that wraps around to the back. The wood isn’t new and the gaps between the floor boards aren’t even on the porch. The carpet is an old awful shade of green, and there’s wood paneling in the living room, but it’s quiet now and it seems much larger with no couch in here. To the right is a very small kitchen. It’s cleaned out except for the single can of green beans in the pantry.

There are so many memories in this house. If I close my eyes I can hear the kids thundering footsteps down the hall, but they’re all grown now, with jobs and homes of their own. I walk one more time through it, thinking about all the things that made this place good. Things weren’t always ideal, but we were happy for the most part. We did as good as we could. If things had been different… but they’re not and this is it.

The Vessel

She watched as men heaved against the spokes of the large wheel on the deck of the ship, slowly winding the cord attached to the anchor up and out of the water. The canvas sails snapped loudly with the force of the wind filling them and slowly, the ship peeled away from the loading dock, away from the harbor, out of the cove, toward the open sea.

The ease with which everything came together over the course of the last few weeks, along with the ships smooth exit from the harbor created a feeling of presque vu, and the only thing that kept her from rejecting this all as too good to be true was the foul stench of fish and seaweed.

Over the side of her small boat she looked back at her home, the place she had always been and grieved. She grieved, not because she would miss it, but because she knew it would always be a place in her memory attached to every single regret she ever had. This is where everything in her life had went wrong. It’s where she grew up without a mother. It’s where she watched her father slowly die of tuberculosis. It’s where the love of her life married another women, because she hadn’t been enough. Every person in her dreams had become the same people of her nightmares.

After her father died, she had begun making plans to leave. She craved adventure and excitement! Her father’s entire fortune had built this ship, hired this crew and was now on it’s way toward Morocco, loaded with goods to trade and sell.

What’s the Weather Like?

The time just changed, and now it gets so dark so early. It’s cold in the house and even colder outside.

I walked outside today to bring the dog in and thought of you. That’s not unusual because I think about you all the time, but this was a big memory. It smelled so authentically Autumn. I think it’s the creek that runs through the backyard that makes the leaves smell so strongly like November. The excess water quickens the decay and releases the smell of the rotten leaves into the air. I know you used to like going hunting right after it rained. You used to say that because the leaves were wet it kept them from crunching under your feet, and the deer wouldn’t hear you when you walked out to your deer stand, and it comforts me to think that you liked this smell, too.

There are squirrels bouncing from tree to tree and I became so sad thinking about you that I don’t know if I can go out back again until it dries up and all the reminders are gone. I can’t smell rich pine, or dead leaves without thinking about you and it hurts, but I know how memories work. If I quit thinking about them, they’ll fade away and I wont remember you so clearly any more. I’ll have less and less of you, until you’re gone all together. I miss you. I wish you were here with me today and every day. I miss talking to you under the fruit trees in the front yard. I miss seeing you when the bus dropped me off at the end of the drive. Back then I hated the hot dust and the uphill walk to the house, but now I’d give anything to go back for a day or two.

It’s not just the Autumn that torments me, it’s every season. Every season has a trigger that releases one of your memories and my heart pours a dam of sorrow for you. In the Autumn it’s the smell of the wet leaves. In the Winter it’s the heat of the wood stove and picking the rich pine shavings off your flannel shirt. In the Summer it’s the fruit trees in the front yard and the patch of grass where we used to sit around the fire, and the lignite mine down the street. In the Spring it’s every fishing spot that I’ve ever been to. It’s school letting out and the Yucca plant’s blooming down each side of the driveway.

I miss you.

I love you.

I always did and I always will.

June 25, 2023

Today, I went to church. I sat patiently through the singing of the choir and the three specials. The children were loud in children’s church, and I sent up a silent prayer that it wasn’t my two. Kelsey, who had successfully created 5 perfect little robots always had something to say about the parenting shortcomings of that week’s ‘bad kids’ in class. I could see her tilting her head and raising her eyebrows as she humbly gave her advice to everyone except their mother.

Finally, the preacher began his sermon by reading out of Galatians chapter 5. I pulled my notebook out and began taking notes.
God, I desperately need something today. Please, send me something through the Pastor. Give me ears to hear, Lord. Fill me up!
This week we were going over the works of the flesh in comparison to the fruits of the Spirit, paying special attention to the fruit of Goodness. He referenced two or three other passages from the New Testament and finished up five minutes early. From start to finish his sermon was twenty-five minutes long. I felt an emptiness settle in my heart when I realized that he was done so soon. I’d written only three lines, and I already knew the information in each line. I didn’t want to put my notebook up. I hadn’t learned anything new, yet.
My family and I slowly made our way toward the foyer and out the door. We dodged the small groups of people chatting, apologizing as we bumped and squeezed through. Before we could go through the door, though, we had to pass by the Pastor who stood with his hand out, giving each person handshakes as they passed by. Some people were eager to shake his hand, but I never liked to. For one, I didn’t like touching other people at all, but mostly when my eyes would meet his, and I could see that shaking my hand was just part of the job for him. It left me feeling bad for him and I didn’t like it. In my heart I heard… Let love be without dissimulation.
We aren’t supposed to fake our love for one another. I knew that. Nevertheless, social graces had to be upheld. We shook and smiled and left.
Afterword, we decided to stop by the grocery store and pick up a loaf of bread for sandwiches. We laughed and talked together as we entered and grabbed our buggy. My kids talked excitedly about the candy they’d received for being so good in class and then about the older boys who kicked the back of one kid’s chair until he got so mad he stood up and screamed. The teacher had to throw him out of the class. I stopped laughing and exchanged worried glances with my husband. “We’ll talk about this when we get back to the car, okay?” He said to them both. They exchanged worried glances, probably wondering what they had said that changed the atmosphere in our car. Suddenly, we saw a couple from church waving at us just inside the door. We approached them and took up polite conversation. It felt very forced, because we barely knew anyone from church, even though we attended for over a year now, but in order to keep up social graces we stood and smiled and nodded. We realized as the conversation went on that they were not a couple, but in-laws. Dave and Bennie. Dave was married to Bennie’s niece. She was very chatty, but Dave always seemed to have something better to do than speak to anyone. I wondered if he felt that the conversation was forced, too? I glanced up at my husband, and motioned for the children to settle down, as they were getting antsy due to all the standing around. Just before we parted ways, another woman came through the door. She wore a woven floppy sunhat, with a neat black ribbon sash, a bathing suit and a black sheer bathing suit cover.
I smiled at her, and she returned my smile eagerly. There was lots of cheer in her face and eyes. Her smile was bright and genuine and contagious. I ushered the kids to back away from the baskets so that she could get to them, and she thanked me and the kids both. When I looked back toward our friends from church, my smile faded quickly. Bennie was staring after the woman in black with what I would have described as a sneer on her face. “I just don’t see how a woman can go out looking like that and not be ashamed of herself.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head at the sweet woman. We said goodbye and parted ways.
I thought about her comment for a while that day. It discouraged me. Before I knew Christ, I used to be just like that woman, if not worse. The simple answer to Bennie’s question was that the woman didn’t see anything wrong with her choice of clothing. Maybe she wasn’t saved yet. She didn’t have the Holy Spirit living in her heart to convict her of her sins. That possibility alone should have cultivated a little more grace in Bennie’s heart for the woman. It disturbed me that it didn’t, especially after the sermon we had just heard about Goodness. Regardless, it wasn’t our job to judge someone outside of the church. It was God’s place to judge the woman. Lucky for the woman, too. God would have more mercy than Bennie would have shown her.
          We decided to go for a walk down by the park near our home.
It was a good way down a little trail, and as I walked and talked with my husband and kids I slowly forgot about the mean boys and Bigmouth Bennie. Of course, the park always made my kids hungry for ice cream, so after a few hours we headed out. Without seeing a single other person, I left behind a little plastic baggie with a pamphlet inside that explained how to get to heaven on the bench. It wasn’t directly witnessing to someone, but it did fill my heart to think about someone reading it and accepting Christ as their Savior.
 At the ice cream shop we stood eagerly in line behind another family. By the way that they were dressed, we could tell that they had been to church that morning also. All of us were still in our Sunday clothes. When the woman, who’s name I found out was Marty, turned around and looked me up and down she smiled and struck up a conversation. Where did we go to church? What was the Pastors name? How old were the kids? Our conversation was very bright and pleasant, until Marty began to give us directions to a Farmers Market here in town we should visit.
“There’s a little street there on the right that you turn down, off Mainstreet. There’s a tattoo parlor on the corner.” She stuck her tongue out and pretended to gag. “We’ve already told the kids about that place! No tattoos for us, thanks! Not the type!” She laughed, but all I could see were the arms of the lady behind the counter scooping the ice cream for our children. She had large roses covering both of her forearms. I thought they were beautiful, and wondered if Marty would have even started talking to me if I had tattoos like that. Probably not. My eyes met the women for a moment, and I smiled sadly at her, trying to apologize for Marty. She rolled her eyes and kept working. My face blanched as I realized she must assume that my opinion about her tattoos and Marty’s were the same. I knew that Marty was just being ignorant, but I wished she wasn’t. None of us are the type, and instead of comparing ourselves amongst ourselves, maybe we should compare ourselves with Christ. Instead of inviting us to her church, she should have been inviting this woman behind the counter, but now because of her arrogance she’d lost her testimony, and mine as well. We are all free in Christ, and I was pretty sure that it was what came out of a person that defiled them. Anger burned in my stomach, and I stopped speaking to Marty after that. She got the hint. I had had enough foolishness for one day. Lord, doesn’t anyone care about anyone but themselves? Are we all consumed with pride and unrighteous judgment? Please, forgive us Father.

June 23, 2023

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Ministry or Manipulation?

Are you ministering, or are you manipulating? I’m sure that wanting to resort to manipulation has always been an issue that people have in general, it is demonstrated throughout history. I don’t think enough people talk about how it happens inside of a church.
I don’t mean talking with a mouth full of hate, sputtering and screaming until someone makes us feel validated. I mean speaking calmly, for the purpose of education. We need to teach those who are contemplating entering the ministry, about how this method of manipulation is not real leadership. Quite frankly, it’s the biblical definition of witchcraft.
When Jehu confronted Joram, Jehoram and Ahaziah in the portion of Naboth, what was it that he said about their mother Jezebel? He said there “would be no peace, because of her whordoms and her witchcraft.” (The only guy in the Bible who could call a guys mom a dirty name and make him run away!)
But this is the point; Jehu pointed out that what Jezebel had done, regarding Naboth, was witchcraft.

So what did she do?
Ahab, her husband, pouted because Naboth would not sell his property to him. Naboth had something that Ahab wanted and he wouldn’t give it up. Like a child, Ahab stopped eating and threw a fit and went crying to his lady. When he told his wife what happened Jezebel told him not to worry, she would fix it. She manipulated things, pretended to be her husband and issued orders under his name that caused Naboth to wrongfully lose his life, leaving Ahab his land. She didn’t crank up the burner under the cauldron and start dropping frogs in, no! She started manipulating. (1 Kings 21, 2 Kings 9)
Manipulation is witchcraft. It is rebellion against God, and his control over all situations. If you trust God, why go there? Can’t we just pray?
Now, we already understand that people who do not have correction, do not have direction, and everyone needs to be redirected sometimes, but when we try to force obedience or force openness from someone without being in a position of justice, to punish them for disobedience or we haven’t ingratiated ourselves enough for them to welcome our criticism, we are putting ourselves into a situation where our advice will be rejected.
If we do try to correct someone, and they will not receive it, we need to consider other things, like it’s just not your business to be involved in, or that your teaching tactics make them feel judged. Both of those are valid reasons to ignore someones advice. What does Jesus tell us to do when people wont accept our word? Shake the dust off our feet. There is no way that we can manipulate people into doing what we think is the right thing if they don’t want to. We can’t trick them into coming to church, or reading their Bible, or praying. We can’t orchestrate events in their lives to change their character. Sometimes we have to let people do what they want, and trust that there is someone greater than us, who’s a better teacher than we could ever be. Your manipulation cannot be a better resource for their growth than God’s love!
You have to let it go when you can’t control other people. The repercussions from not shaking the dust off our feet compounds and leads to bitterness. If we let that dust cake up on the soul of our feet, it will make us miserable. When we allow that dust to cake up, we are much more likely to cross over to manipulating others.
By allowing manipulation to become the normal way we handle people on a day to day basis, we are letting everyone around us know that we are not washing our feet in the water of the Word. We are not letting go of grudges. We are not reading. We are not praying or forgiving others. How can anyone want to do the right thing, if we wont even do it ourselves?