When You Can't Fix All the Problems

Just before Timmy left for college, all the boys from two friends' families arrived to say goodbye.

And they pitched in to try to help him with mechanical issues he was having with two different vehicles.

They fixed some but not all.

(All while girls from four families visited by the front porch.)

The other day Hannah brought me one of her tops which had a small hole ripped in it. Could it be patched?

I showed her how to find an iron-on patch in my sewing desk drawer and how to iron it over the hole, shiny side down. 

We've been fixing and replacing and fixing and fixing.

A new storm door Jonathan found on clearance is waiting to be installed where the bent old one with torn screen used to be.

A window screen was torn at the bottom.
Jonathan cut a new screen, pulled the old one out, and I helped hold the screen tight while he installed new screen.

 

One of our vehicles sprang a leak in the power steering line.

Danny watched Jonathan working on it--learning for his Car Care course in school this year. 

It was such a hard spot to reach that Jonathan was working on it all evening.

I ended up helping by reaching in with my more slender fingers and twisting a tiny wrench to loosen and then tighten a nut.

But we got it fixed! 

If only we could fix other problems in the world.

If only staying up late at night with slender fingers and a wrench would fix them all!

But we can't. 

But still--there is one thing we can do.

When we can't fix all the problems in the world, we can still fix something.

Maybe just one thing today.

But we can fix one thing that will make a difference in our own--or someone else's-- little world.

I Was Supposed to Be Praying...But the Kittens!

I heard so much bad news today that it seemed like extra praying was in order this evening...

 

 

 after I had helped to clean up after supper and we had shredded a bunch of zucchini and yellow squash and chopped three huge onions for a batch of relish to sit overnight.

Plus tomorrow is the anniversary of September 11th.

More reason to pray. 

And I heard that the Tal i ban is putting off fireworks and thinking to make September 11th their Independence Day from the horrible America. And the creepy-crawly disease going around is putting more people in the hospitals, nurses and doctors who refuse the vac ci ne are going to lose their jobs, and Bide n just did more disastrous things, so--obviously, more reasons to pray. 

So I dutifully went out on the deck again, intending to put in an hour of prayer. I looked up at the stars and remembered what had happened about a week and a half ago when I reached clasped hands toward the sky-and seemed to feel His clasp on mine. 

 

And how I had asked God, "What can You do with one woman's hour of prayer?"

I wasn't sure what to ask Him this time. I tend to not ask the same thing twice. I get bored of that really, really fast. Plus Jesus said vain repetition is just that--vain. So I just was wondering what to say, and even what to do out there under the quiet stars. I had left the kitchen light on so I could see a little on the deck. Should I kneel? Reach up to Him again? Walk and pray? 

Or just sit on the swing and pray?

And then the kittens caught my attention. I know, I was supposed to be praying. 

But the kittens!

I couldn't help reaching down and stroking their soft fur, and letting them twirl about and come for more at my feet

 They come out of hiding at night after the canine creatures are all bedded down for the night.

Should I feel guilty to interrupt my prayer reverie to pet a kitten?

But I thought, "If I care about a poor little kitten out in the dark that wonders if I am okay with its presence, doesn't God care about me in the darkness that is in the world today?

Doesn't He just maybe want to reach down and touch me in the middle of my uncertainty and wonderings? Does He maybe just want to comfort me tonight instead of me just trying to pray for a bunch of things for an hour?"

I ended up going inside to snag my Bible and brought it out, hugging it to me. 

It was too dark to read, but I just clutched it close to my heart, remembering the Psalm I had read today about trusting in the Lord and how great is His goodness toward those who trust in Him, and how He hides them in the secret place of His presence from strife of tongues.

Those kittens interrupted my prayer time and turned it into a time of thinking about God's great love. I sat on the swing under the stars thinking of how He demonstrated that love first and most when He gave His only begotten Son to die so that we wouldn't have to perish, but could have everlasting life. And how He is not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.

And that was my prayer--about all those who need to come to repentance.

And for those who already have. 

And soaking in His love, and being thankful for His demonstrations of it.

Not the least of which is playful kittens in the darkness.

 

Dark Days--and Our Flowers Have Never Been So Lush

These warm days of late summer, I often go outside--to hang laundry, take the garbage to the chickens, take out the mail, pick trash up in the yard where the puppies have scattered it, shake the welcome mat, or sweep the porch.

 

Or take a prayer walk around the house.
Because the days are dark--and my heart is sometimes heavy.

But then I notice what God has given us this year--such lush flowers! These cosmos are spilling way over the deck railing into the steps.

 

 The August sunflowers are almost gone now, but the cosmos is still blooming. 

And I thought of how we have cosmos because someone planted a seed. Hannah started some seeds and then someone transplanted them when they were still little--by the corner of the deck steps. 

And despite the tragedies in the news and all the bad news about the evil in the world today,

the flowers grew. They didn't seem to notice. It's good that they could not read the news.

The flowers someone planted just bloomed despite the smoke in the air and the lies in the media and the blunders over in Afghanistan. 

They spilled lush over fences and rails.  

They knew the sun was there and kept their faces toward it. 

They just kept opening their hearts toward the sun, drinking in its light and warmth.

And the pumpkins grew, too. 

This one is a Cinderella pumpkin--grown in our own garden!

Someone planted seeds, and beautiful things grew--flowers to cheer us and pumpkins to turn into pies.

They didn't decide not to grow just because the days were dark and sad and smoky. 

Someone planted seeds and they grew.

And someone planted seeds of love and kindness and mercy.

And beautiful things grew--even though the days were dark and tragic,

even when evil loomed on the horizon.

Love grew and flourished; a seed of forgiveness grew into a beautiful flower of sweet relationship; and the wind blew seeds of kindness all over the globe. 

The media ignored the good news; people overlooked small acts of love and unselfishness in lowly places--such as in humble Christian homes.

 

But those seeds turned into flowers, and the flowers flourished all the more because of the dark days and smoke in the air. 

Live Edge Shelves--and the Flow of Life

 Live edge shelves have a naturally flowing edge--not an edge that has been sawed to be straight and perfect.

Here's a live edge book shelf that Timmy made for Crystal from beetle-ridden gray pine.

There's something incredibly beautiful about live edge boards and shelving.

 Each board is one-of-a-kind.

No straight edges, no cookie cutter cuts rammed through the table saw.

Here's one of the two live edge kitchen benches Jonathan and Timmy made, which we've been enjoying.

Life, I think, is also more beautiful when we allow some fluidity, 

when we learn to be flexible.

And when we learn to let some things lie in God's mystery bag. 

My mother often mentions about having to put some things into God's "mystery bag," as she calls it. She is someone who has learned the art of putting things she does not understand into God's mystery bag.

I was thinking about that once again tonight when I could not sleep. Things I do not understand. Things about the flow of life--how things happen one way, then another, and how little control we have over many things.

Things I thought were a certain way--until they all fell apart. And I did not know what to do with all the pieces. 

The best place to put those pieces is into God's great mystery bag--and leave them with Him. 

When my plans and expectations have gone to pieces, when things around us seem to be hopeless and completely out of control, He can custom make the most beautiful Live Edge framework out of whatever I give to Him.

Anniversary/Funeral--Strange Combination

Leave it to Jonathan and Anna to have the most unusual anniversary imaginable for their 27th!

We didn't have anything planned except possibly eating out together until, restless about wanting to do something for our anniversary, but something more meaningful than eating out,

 I got the brilliant idea to do a happy thing and a sad thing all at the same time--or nearly at the same time.

What if we got a bed and breakfast overnight on our way to Nebraska to the funeral of the mother of someone Jonathan went to school with many moons ago? 

Yeah, totally brilliant way to spend an anniversary!

Still, I thought it was better than not doing anything at all except eating in a crowded, noisy restaurant!

We had reconnected with Becky, daughter of Marsha Kirk who passed away, last year at a camp meeting nearby, and knew she was lonely in Nebraska. And it was only a few hours away, so when I offered to find a cute B&B for Jonathan and me for our anniversary on the way, he said that if his plumbing job finished okay, we might be able to do that. Just to reserve the room, but be prepared to cancel just in case.

His plumbing job went as well as any plumbing job has ever gone, and he was able to come home early on our 27th anniversary. A total miracle!

And the day before, right in the middle of my finding a cute place in Imperial, NE, to reserve for the night with the anniversary gift of money Jonathan's parents had given us, 

I got a call from Becky who had heard from someone that we were coming (even before we had totally made up our minds!)

Would Jonathan and I sing at the funeral? Would we help her and her daughter and another lady with "Treasures on the Other Side" and then sing "I Will Meet You in the Morning" at the graveside?

 So then we felt God must have wanted us to go. 

Even if it meant having to compartmentalize our anniversary on Thursday before the funeral on Friday.

Just across the street from the Balcony House B&B, was a courthouse where a statue of a kneeling veteran had very recently been erected with benches representing every part of the American military. We were amazed that something this religious would be permitted.
 

We had a fabulous evening at our beautiful spot for the night,

enjoying one of the most delightful breakfasts we've had in a coon's age the next morning out on the front porch in the beautiful warmth of a Nebraska morning.

Thanking God for the food and praying for those who were sorrowing.

I know I must be an unusual person, but to me, I received more joy in spending our anniversary on our way to be a support to friends at a funeral than I do just spending our time on ourselves. 

There is so  much more blessing in giving than in receiving!

Before leaving for the funeral, I was making a copy of the song, "I Will Meet You in the Morning" for Jonathan and me to sing at the funeral, and thinking about my sister Iva's observations about different music groups at a convention this year. Some she thought were excellent, flawless, outstanding, and others were not very great. But one of those "not very great" choirs had something else going for it, Iva said. In her words, that choir was "anointed."I stood there by the copier machine, asking God, "What would it cost to be anointed?" And my mind was searching for an answer that wasn't just something popping into my mind, but something Scriptural. Would it cost time in prayer, like hours and hours, for example? Maybe fasting? 

Then I thought maybe I was asking the wrong question, like Simon BarJesus, whom Peter rebuked for thinking the gift of God could be bought with money.

 "How much money do I pay to get the Holy Ghost?" is sort of what that Simon asked. Is it any different to ask, "How many hours do I spend praying to get what some call the 'anointing'?"

Then my mind flashed to where Jesus said some very simple words, "How much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit [the anointing] to those who ask Him."

How much will it cost to have the anointing?

"How much more will He give to those who ask Him."

So I asked.

And in the beastly heat of a Nebraska sun, shaded by the funeral canopy by the graveside, Jonathan and I sang.  A construction worker/layman/bearded middle-aged man, with his gray-haired, not-very-gorgeous wife sang "I Will Meet You in the Morning" simply with my autoharp. We had done very little to the song, just a mite of arrangement, singing all four verses as requested and three choruses.

No tongues of fire.

No mighty winds.

No awe-inspiring voices or arranged music.

 But afterward, a young lady came to me to say she appreciated the song and loved the autoharp for such an occasion. And then tears suddenly sprang to her eyes.

"We could feel the presence of the Lord as you sang," she said.

And my heart was glad. 

 I had not spent hours praying; I had simply asked. 

But the presence of the Lord had been felt.

An anniversary/ funeral combination.

Just another unusual incident in the lives of Jonathan and Anna out on the western prairie.

What Can God Do With One Woman's Hour of Prayer?

As darkness fell over the sky last night and stars shone through, one middle-aged mom slipped out to the back deck of the house. She had signed up for one hour of prayer a day for three days, from 9 to 10 in the evening, over the time of the American pullout from Afghanistan.

 It was supposed to be a 24-hour prayer chain for the Afghanistan situation, but that idea (which happened to be the mom's) kind of fizzled. Heart-warmingly, several people responded about the prayer chain with extra prayer, and the middle-aged mom herself ended up praying at other times rather than from 9 to 10, to make sure she got the time in, or she was discouraged about the prayer chain and sluffed herself. 

Which left her feeling like not the greatest prayer warrior in the world. 

More like one who went to pot.

And then there was last night.

Determined to spend the hour she'd signed up for, the mom went out to the deck in the semi-darkness, with the lights of the house shining through the windows, just enough to keep her from stumbling around the swing her son had made and the dog sleeping curled up in front of the door. Oh, and I must not forget the two half-grown kittens leaping about on the railings and scuttling underfoot in the darkness, being totally and unequivocally irreverent.

And the first thing the mom asked God was, "What can You do with one woman's hour of prayer?"

One woman's one hour of prayer was not very much compared to the vast needs in the world.

She folded her hands together by the back door and reached up to the sky that was full of stars, like she was taking hold of God's hand, and--it felt like she really was taking hold of God's hand. 

The clasp was so strong, like she could feel His hand taking hers.

Strengthening her grasp.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but faith is about what you cannot see--or feel. 

When there are no words, hands can pray, too. 

And God can reach down and take your hand. He really can, when 

hands pray in the night.

No pictures were taken, so I have none to share. 

Just the question, "What can God do with one woman's hour of prayer?"
 

Can He do what He did with one little boy's five little loaves and two fish?

Can He multiply an hour of prayer like He multiplied the loaves and fish to feed thousands of people?

Can He multiply one hour of prayer into the worth of many thousand,

and reach down to take the hand of thousands of broken and frightened people in Afghanistan?

Can He rescue many, protect many, blind the eyes of the bloodthirsty hunters of Christians?

Can He grow the small church in Afghanistan even in these awful times?

Can He break the heart of murderers until they throw away their AK-47's and choose to take on the name of Christ, like Saul of Tarsus?

Can He block the evil plans of unrepentant men and women?

Can He turn many wicked plans upside down, bring on their own heads the plots of evil men,

 work even all this evil for good in Afghanistan and around the world?

In China, North Korea, Iraq, and yes, America?

What can God do with one woman's hour of prayer?

What can He do with your prayers?

I wonder.