Just give me Jesus!

I have a reputation for doing some pretty dumb stuff, like gluing two of my fingers together recently and then having to soak them in polish remover for 20 minutes to regain my freedom. (I'd tell you that during those 20 minutes I imagined a trip to the ER for surgery which would remove fingerprints, make my teaching credentials null and void, and leave me with no viable source of income, but then you would definitely worry about me. So, I won't.)

In another one of my "stupid animal tricks," I had to take my car into Car Toys to remove a cd that was stuck inside the player. Turns out it was stuck alright, but not inside the player! I had the durn thing stuck in the slot above the cd player - you know, - between the player and the dashboard. (I reminded the guy removing it that I was paying him $25.00 so he didn't need to go back inside and tell everyone he worked with.)

Before returning to Car Toys again this past week with another annoying cd playing issue, I asked my friend, Donald, to take a look at it. (Donald, like Gene, can fix almost anything, but right now Gene is in Arizona and I am in Oregon.)

Donald got a flashlight, some kind of tweezer-like thing from his toolbox, and then squeezed his 6' lanky body into the front seat of my little Escort. And then guess what? Would you believe this was another "operator error?" (I know. You're as shocked as I was . . . or not.)

Turns out I am only allowed to insert one cd at a time, and I had two crammed in there. Who makes these rules up anyway? 

And Donald, being the gentleman he is, did all this without once giving me the look I paid $25.00 for the last time I had problems!

I'd like to be able to tell you my children are shocked when these things happens, but I can't. Instead, they're more likely to question What will Mom do next?

It gets worse. Not only do I habitually do this kind of thing, I brag about it, as well! The way I look at it is, If this makes me laugh, why wouldn't it make other people? The guy who took my 25 bucks sure had a hard time keeping his face straight!

So, after telling my friend, Linda Z, about this, I added, "I've told God He can take everything He wants from me, but please, could He leave my sense of humor."

Then, she, being the wiser of two woman countered. "And your faith. You mean your sense of humor and your faith. Right?"

Whoa! She got that right. I can go just about anywhere and do anything, with just those two ingredients. I know. I still need to steer clear of all forms of technology, but otherwise, just give me Jesus and a good laugh anytime!

Laughter is good medicine. Proverbs 17:22

God shops at Walmart!

In December of 2011, I got married and moved to Arizona. You already know that, and it's a good thing. But, let me tell you - when you're in your 60s and accustomed to being single, it is not always an easy thing. 

On one of my pouting Penny days, I drove to Walmart for some shopping therapy. I wandered the aisles, but didn't buy much. Then, as I started towards the door, I noticed a frail blond-haired man, probably in his 30s. He was riding in a scooter that was smaller than adult-sized.

From my vantage point, he seemed to have already purchased several bags full of merchandise. Now, he was making a second run at another pile with his remaining cash. As he and the cashier sorted through several items of clothing, I watched him pull bills and change from a small coin purse. Several customers waited in line behind him.

That's when I heard from God. With an almost tangible shove, He said, "Get over there."

"Could you use some help?" I asked, stepping closer to a few feet closer to the counter.

The young man's smile confirmed to me that he could. Now that I was standing closer, I could see how complicated this whole transaction had become. Not only was the young man wrestling with the proverbial too-much-month/too-little-money, but he could hardly even reach the counter top from his scooter!

I joined in on the sorting and counting, and offered him my name. A smile never left his face as he pointed to a small plastic license plate on the front of his ride and mumbled, "Scott."

When the cashier finally totaled this second group of items, Scott was still a bit shy on cash. That's when I whipped out my card and swiped it. (Besides being confined to a chair while shopping, Scott clearly didn't have this luxury, either.) Not wanting to embarrass him, I accepted his remaining cash as partial payment. But, honestly, the total wasn't much. (I've wasted more on a single cosmetics run!)

Then, I threw what I could into his scooter basket and the rest into my own. "Okay, Scott. You lead the way."

Under my confident-sounding voice, I was actually wondering where we would go from there. Five miles down the road? Him with motorized transportation and me with a shopping cart? I could already hear my husband grumbling about my naivete. 

Luckily, a van was parked right by the door - the assisted living sign assured me all was well. As the driver jumped out and lowered the lift, he asked me. "You work for Walmart?"

"No," I heard myself say. "I work for God."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, then I guess I do, too."

Now, why am I telling you this? Because I, in this one instance, helped someone out? Hardly!

I'm writing because Scott turned my self-absorbed pity party into a valuable life lesson. In the days since then, I have often seen his smile and asked, Who is more handicapped? The guy in the scooter or the gal with the chip on her shoulder? (See below: I have already answered this, so you don't have to.)

So, the next time you catch me whining about Mesa, Goldendale, or a broken fingernail, I'm giving you permission to call me on it. Four words oughta do it: "Remember Scott at Walmart?"

This is how I see God. He hangs out at Walmart.

The Easter Bunny Lives!

On a lighter note:

In Mesa, I love the hoots, coos, and tweets of the quail and pigeons arguing every morning as the sun comes up. But, the adorable long-eared cotton tails the size of a cube of butter are my absolute favorites! So, when my cat murdered (!) and then dragged one inside the house recently, I became quite unsettled! (I made Gene deal with the bunny's carcass.)

Today, when a live one hopped inside, I flipped out! Grabbing the cat beside me, I ran to shut him inside a bedroom. Then, I screamed for Gene to come help and jumped up on the couch (because the little bitty bunny was going to hurt me. Right?)

Shaking his head at the crazy lady (aka his wife), Gene diligently tracked down the creature hiding behind books on a shelf. Then, he carried the squeaky little thing outside by the ears. 

"My hero!" I said, throwing my arms around him. "You just rescued me from the Easter bunny." 

The moral of this story is, . . . oh yeah, there isn't one. I just wanted you to know that life here in the desert can be difficult, and there are wild animals! 

The greatest of these is Love!

It's Valentine's Day, and I've got a story for you!

But, first, let me tell you about my friend, Dorothy. Several winters ago when Gene was riding his bike around the neighborhood here in Mesa, he stopped to talk to an older gentleman working in his yard. I'm going to make the story of how I met his wife short by just telling you that this couple's summer home is in the same invisibly-small-and-remote town in Washington that Gene's is - Goldendale, Washingon. As a result, Dorothy has become not only my summer, but also my wintertime friend.

Anyway, because of Dorothy's intense shoulder pain from a car accident a year ago, I vacuumed for her yesterday. Later, when she discovered she'd lost one of her pearl earrings, the two of us sat down and fingered through the entire contents of the vacuum bag. (We did this not only once, but two times!) Knowing that Dorothy is struggling with not only physical pain, but also her husband's Alzheimer's, I was so sure God was going to help us find it. Two times we came close to finding it. First finding a florist's pin with a white head, and then an inexpensive necklace bead. The pearl, unfortunately, we did not find.

But, that was yesterday. Today is Valentine's Day - a day when many of us express our love for one another. So, here's the fun part. Dorothy just called me and said she tried looking again for the earring after I left her place last night,  but she still could not find it. This morning, giving up on ever seeing it again, she got up and just got dressed. After putting on a red blouse, her eyes glanced down - and there it was. The earring and the backing were just lying there on my bedspread. "It was as though someone had just laid them there," is the way she put it. 

I think Dorothy's right. I also think God had a hand in it. This was his way of reminding her that, no matter how difficult her life is right now, He still loves her. He completed one of her favorite sets of earrings today - on Valentine's Day - to remind her.

His Valentine to me is the sound of rain drops tapping out a love letter on the aluminum rooftop of our patio room. A rare occurrence here in Mesa, they remind me of the Pacific Northwest, friends, and family. My prayer is that you will see His love for you today, as well. He loves us, and today is His gift to all.

And, hey! If he shows up for you in a surprising way today, will you share it on this blog?

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love never fails. . . And now these three remain: Faith, hope and love. But the greatest of there is love. I Corinthians 13:8, 13 

Find Your Purpose

Have you ever had an itch that was oh-so-bad, but you just couldn't scratch it? Well, I have had one for more than a year now. Okay, I'm not talking about anything serious. It's just something I want to do. Unfortunately, a couple of other things got in the way last year. One of them was getting married (which was huge and wonderful.) Another thing was puttering (which is not so huge, but far more compelling and disruptive.)

However, before leaving Portland in December, that "itch" came to mind again. I was having dinner with a friend when we both agreed we were not doing things that were important to us. Sharon and I also agreed - and this is the hard part - to make ourselves accountable to one another in the new year in order to fix this. (This was obviously going to cut into my puttering time!)

Several weeks later, as Gene and I were grabbing our bags at the Phoenix airport, a billboard reminded me of that promise. The bold print said, "Find your purpose." The fine print directed you to a local college, but I took the challenge personally. The honeymoon was over. It was time for me to write.

So, here goes. My excuses no longer matter. It doesn't matter if no one reads this. It doesn't matter if I don't have anything life-changing to relate. What matters is that I write. (Another friend, Linda, taught me what doesn't matter.)

So, in the weeks and months ahead, that's what I'll be doing - writing about silly things, thoughtful things, and just about any things. The other stuff doesn't matter. I just need to be who I am, write what I write, and stop wasting so much time puttering.  

Good grief, aside from learning how to be a wife again (which will be a miracle, not a project!), what else am I going to do in the desert these next four months?

I don't like New Year's resolution. This sounds easier to me. Now, what about you? A blog is for dialogue. It's your turn now. Have you got an itch that needs scratching this year? Something you've wanted to do? A purpose? If you're comfortable sharing it on this blog, I'd love that. If not, maybe you'll share it with a friend. 

At my wedding reception on December 1st, my three-year old grandson, Jack (with a bit of prompting) raised his glass of sparkling cider and said, "This is Grammy's toast." Now I have one for you: May you find purpose in this new year, and share it with someone else, because doing what is important to you does matter.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43:19