My mother in law had an expression that always brings a mental picture... "I'm as free as a hog on ice".
Can't you see that pig heading onto the ice rink and just flying around as free as can be? Untethered, unencumered... but maybe even unbalanced, unpredictable, and unable to control the inevitable slide.
As free as it sounds, my mental red flag is already waving. That pig might be in real trouble.
I once got out of my car, during a rare Dallas ice storm, one house away from home. I walked (skated) on thin ice to my own house next door, and told my hubby he had to go get the car and drive it to our driveway, the length of one yard. I could not do it!
So all of a sudden, the pig doesn't really seem free, in fact he is probably on a 'free fall' to who knows where.
Boundaries are good.
Being tied to something strong and sure is good.
Being held in the hands of our loving Father is good.
While I enjoy the mental image of that pig as he heads out on the ice, I think the pig would be much better off if he were tied to something strong. I think the pig would agree.
It's everything to know that I am tied to the One sure anchor, and that He controls even the slipping and sliding.
"I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy
down in my heart
down in my heart to stay."
Do you ever think of those songs we used to sing growing up? I was humming this one, and to my shock, I realized I didn't feel that joy, not like I used to. I do have joy, and often joy, joy, but I know I don't always have joy, joy, joy,joy!!!
I miss that. I want that joy, joy, joy,joy. Can I still have it? Can I still have that kind of joy in spite of and in the midst of trying circumstances, or when my days are full of dealing with the stuff of this life?
The obvious answer is yes. God, who placed that joy in my heart when I first came to Him, is the same unchanging God who is still the only source of that kind of joy today. He has a way of reeling us in and making us sense a need... again, when our tanks need to be filled back up.
I am sometimes guilty of listening to the clamor of voices that are loud in this world we live in... circumstances, politics, sinking economy, lack of morality... and on and on. The whole thing can leave me feeling stressed and gloomy. It's hard not to be affected by the voices of this world.
So what do we do? We go back to where our joy, joy, joy, joy began... back to Jesus, the author and the finisher of our faith. The only one who understands where we are and who we are.
I may be speaking to you, but I KNOW I am speaking to myself!! I needed that reminder this morning.
"I've got the peace that passes understanding down in my heart
down in my heart to stay"!!!
That was the expression for anything our family did as I was growing up, anything that cost money... a trip, redecorating, clothes, fancy dinner parties, etc.
We did it all on a shoestring.
In looking back, I know that my mother did shoestring better than anyone I have ever known. She had a way of changing rooms to make them look fresh and different. She would paint the walls in a bathroom, put in a few 'on sale' different colored towels, add fresh flowers, sweet smelling soaps, and the whole room was new. There was never any big money... just a shoestring.
When she and dad gave one of their annual Christmas dinner parties for the not-so-rich, but definitely famous, ministers and evangelists... our friends talked about her parties year after year. She had such a gift of making things so special. To the tiniest decorated detail, served on platters and plates brimming with amazing food from her kitchen, to the little gifts given to each guest, wrapped and boxed in love, she made those nickels,dimes and dollars go the extra mile.
She made casseroles out of leftovers and made us excited to eat them. I know that one of her tricks was mashed potatoes... it stretched the meat, and with some fresh veggies and a little of her gravy or sauce, and some crunchy goodness on top all browned and sizzling, that leftover meal was out of this world, shoestring or not!
Our clothes were as up to date and cute as anyone's, and I know she scoured those sale racks at W.T.Grant's in Pasadena, and that God gave her bargains 1000 times over.
It was almost a game to live on a shoestring in our home. My mom made it that way. She laughed at life, and knew who she was in the Lord.
I think that my mother's shoestrings were actually strands of gold... woven together with love, creativity, hospitality and laughter.
Shoestring in my dictionary has very special meaning, my heart pictures her example right alongside Proverbs 31.
The Swedes always take credit for these, as well as for Norwegian meatballs. I don't really know what the perfect origins were, but in MY home, as I grew up... they were NORWEGIAN.
I wish I could tell you how good these are. Just give it a try sometime...
7 eggs
a smattering of flour to medium consistency
a dab of melted butter
a small amount of milk
a dab of sugar...
That's all I can tell you. There were never any measurements in our house. My mom knew exactly what consistency they should be, and then into the large teflon pan they went... rolled around to the edges like crepes, a little thicker, but a-ma-zing-ly delicous!!
She let them turn into a golden brown and flipped them, then popped them out as they were done, into a half fold and a quarter fold. As we took them from the plate, we opened them, filled them with good stuff and rolled them up like a tube and down they went! In case there were any left overs, my brother came in the next day and ate whatever was left... cold, and quick!
I still make them, but not as often as my mother did. It is a lot of work to stand there and crank them out one at a time. She never complained. I DO! You can't make them en-masse, just one at a time... a loooong time. Still... it's more than worth it. Right Felisol?? (My Norwegian sister)...
We sprinkled sugar or maple syrup or fruit jam onto the pancakes, and ate until we were stuffed.
I do hope that in a section of heaven, my mom is up there making Norwegian pancakes for all of the 'saints.' It has to be a recipe that God thought up. It's that good!
Sometimes when I 'let go' of things that are weighing my mind and heart down, and give them to God, it seems like I'm not doing enough... that it's a cop out, that I should be trying harder to FIX it! It seems almost too easy to just ... let it go.
Other times, that 'letting it go' is the hardest thing that I do.
It almost seems like a paradox.
Definition of paradox online... "An argument that produces an inconsistency, typically within logic or common sense."
That's it, that's the problem, every time! When my human logic kicks in on a problem, but my heart and faith say 'no... Trust God, let Him have this'... it becomes a paradox.
It was never meant to be a paradox. His word is clear. "Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart, and lean not to your own understanding".
My logical common sense desire to fix a problem often IS the problem!
It's me that up-ends God's apple cart, trying to get to the solution... my way.
Sometimes the letting go is harder for me than the holding on...
Why is that?
It's because it's me... learning that it's really Him.
It's because 'His ways are not my ways'. It's because He is God and He said so! The rules that work for my life and yours say that we are to 'let go' and trust Him with all of it. He made the rules and He knows that they work, He also made us, and understands that we need Him. We are so limited in our abilities and our vision, but God isn't.
Creator and created...
This is probably not blog worthy, but here it is anyway...
Do you ever hear those commercials advertising mattresses? The ones that tell you to try it for 2 weeks and if you don't like it, you can return it!
Gives me the creeps. How on earth do you buy a new mattress without wondering WHO has tried this for 2 weeks already by the time it is delivered to me??
Not only that, but what about those labels? On pillows and mattresses. It says it is 'against the law to remove the tags.' What?? Is someone going to arrest me if I cut off that long white tag? (For the record, I ALWAYS cut it off, so if you never hear from me again, you'll know they read this blog and came after me!)
One more thing... I keep hearing these commercials about different medicines. First they tell you how your life is going to be different, picturing someone happily walking along the beach or on a mountain, hair blowing in the wind, quickly followed by 'in case of... could cause serious life threatening or even fatal problems.' When you hear what the warnings are, why in the world would you want to try the medicine?? Sounds like the cure is far worse than the problem.
I warned you... not blog worthy, but still... does it ever make you wonder about all the hype sent our way?
Mattress, pillows and medicine aside...
"In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe." (Ps.4:8)
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When fear (worry, concern, hyperventilation,fast heart beat, etc.) raises it's ugly head, sometimes the best thing for me to do is say out loud, to satan... GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!!
I am convinced that for us, as women, fear is one of our biggest pitfalls. Often it comes sneaking in through a crack in our minds that we thought was sealed up tight.
Here's the order it usually happens in my life:
...concern
...worry
...anxiety
It often begins with valid concern, about a situation or person or whatever it is...
Then my mind gets into gear. I can go from a sore throat to full blown cancer in a matter of seconds!
A few of the potential pitfalls for many of us are...
...finances
...children
...marriage
...health
...relationships
If any one of those are off kilter, our wheels begin to turn, and churn.
Satan quickly grabs hold of worry in my life, and uses all of his tools to make it bigger and worse!
Remember my dad's 2 R's??
RECOGNIZE IT...
REFUSE IT...
First, recognize that fear is not from God. He is not a God of fear. Honest concerns about life are real, but the scale gets tipped into fear if we do not guard our minds. God tells us exactly the opposite, that when these things come our way, we are to trust Him, with all of it.
Second, if we choose immediately to refuse it, satan will not get his foot into the open door of our minds. I am learning, after many years of trial and error, that the quicker I get to God with my worries, the better off I am... always! It requires a submission to Him of what is causing the worry.
The temptation, for me, is to try to look at it from every angle and work it out myself first... than later, when it has grown and taken root, I realize... again... that God wants it... all of it, and that His promises cover it... all of it!
If there was one expression my Norwegian mother used the most, it was this one... uff da...
The literal meaning is 'uncomfortable, sad, compassion, empathy or annoyance' ... What WE 3 kids heard from the uff da was... oh shucks, or dadgummit, or bless your heart! It became so familiar to hear that expression, that the 3 of us picked it up too, and to this day I say it, so do my kids, and now their kids.
If we fell and scraped a knee, or when a mosquito landed on one of us, or when something spilled, etc., etc.... her comment was always uff da.
Sometimes a Norwegian word fits the situation far better than an English one.
So it seems fitting that after my mom had her final stroke and went to heaven, the final words she said in the hospital were uff da. I've thought of it so many times. It expressed where she was and what she was feeling.
I wonder what the Norwegian word was when she passed into eternity and saw Jesus face for the first time??
I know it had to be good!
As we pulled up to a busy intersection, about to enter a freeway in Dallas recently, there was one of those guys...
He was on crutches, very haggard looking, with one of his pant legs empty and pinned up behind him. Somewhere along the way, this man had lost his leg. He carried a small handmade cardboard sign, I couldn't even see the words.
We don't always, or even often, stop and give money, but this time we both felt it. My hubby quickly reached into his wallet for some bills and handed them to the man as the light turned green. He thanked us quietly as my husband said "God bless you buddy".
I was in tears as we pulled through the light. I told Joe 'I don't even care what he does with the money, he needed a little encouragement.' I do care, but you know what I mean. This guy had real problems and his needs were more obvious than many.
The city where I live has a 'token' street person. He's been here for several years, shows up at one parking lot or another. I think the citizens of this city have taken good care of him, he usually walks along with a Starbucks cup in his hand, or a sack of McDonald's. Someone told me he turned down an offer of a jacket since it was not 'the right color'.
I'm sometimes torn by what the best and right thing is to do. I firmly believe that we are to work for our money, the Bible teaches that. But these guys... they all have a story, and who knows what has brought them to this place. I suspect many times it's drugs, alcohol, etc., maybe even most of the time.
Even so... sometimes my heart is caught, not only in guilt that I passed another one by, but by the very person that stands there...
Jesus was both compassionate and realistic. I don't always know exactly how to do that with these needy ones. Somehow I picture Him taking them by the hand, loving them, and leading them to food, shelter... and the responsibility of work.
So I'll throw this one out there to you... how do you handle it? Do you always stop, never stop, or do you occasionally feel a strong tug for that one person?
"26 miles across the sea, Santa Catalina is a-waitin for me"...
My senior year in high school.
One of the big graduation parties was a trip by boat across the southern California ocean waters to Catalina Island. It was exciting and we were all dressed up and ready for fun.
Then that southern California wind began to blow...
By the time we were 5 or 6 miles into the journey, this high school senior was hanging her head over the rails and seasick became a new word in my vocabulary.
I had the 'big hairdo' all sprayed into place, and the ocean spray took charge, my hair fell and my spirits fell even further, not to mention my stomach, which by now was empty.
What a trip.
When we finally arrived and walked onto the beach, I was green. I sat on the sand for that long dreary day, hair wet and hanging, and too sick to even care.
I'm trying to find a moral to this story. I always love it when I spot a good lesson in something. I don't think I learned anything except that choppy sea water is not my thing. Maybe I ruled out a life at sea, even with my Viking genes! There may not have been a point to this story, but it's as sharp in my mind as last week, so it definitely made an impression.
More Monday morning trivia...
