Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 57

Rearview mirror

(c) 2007 Bill Frymire     
Remember the wonders He has done, His miracles, and the judgments He pronounced. – 1 Chronicles 16:12 NIV
     
     
Before the days of digital devotionals, I used the blank backside of the front cover of my printed copy of Our Daily Bread to record prayer requests. This way, my prayer list and my daily readings were all in one place. When the month was up, I often tore off that cover and stuffed it into the new booklet until I had time to copy the prayer list.
     
One day while cleaning out my devotional basket, I came across those old prayer lists. Reading them over, I was amazed at how many of those requests had been answered. Perhaps not in the time or manner I’d wanted them to be, but, looking back over time, I could definitely see the hand of God. And my flagging faith was fortified.
     
A few weeks ago I wrote about the importance of not looking back at our past mistakes. But that doesn’t mean we never look back. We need to.
     
For it is only when we peer into the rearview mirror of life that we can see the hand of God more clearly than we could at the time, when doubts and despair, like dust swirling through the air, cloud our perspective.
     
I look in the rearview mirror,  and I see ways God provided for my needs—a tank full of heating oil just before winter when we didn’t have the money to buy it, boxes packed with groceries left on our front porch by an anonymous giver at a time we didn’t have two nickels to rub together, money for gas so I could drive to Alabama to see my mother one more time before she died. Oh, I could go on and on and on . . . but you get the idea.
     
In the rearview mirror I see God’s faithfulness, deliverance, presence, protection, and provision.
     
What I don’t see in the rearview mirror are my mistakes, my sins. For God has removed them from me “as far as the east is from the west” (Psalm 103:12). If God forgave me and remembers my sin no more (Jeremiah 31:34), why should I remember and beat myself up about it?
     
I often quote St. Paul, who wrote that he forgets what’s behind and reaches for what’s ahead (Philippians 3:13). What Paul was forgetting was his utter failure to meet up to God’s standards on his own.
     
And so we, too, should forget our failures.
     
But God wants us to remember the good things—His able protection, His abundant provision, His abiding presence.

Why else would He command the Israelites to set up a memorial with stones from the Jordan River (Joshua 4), to observe the Passover Feast, to never forget the many ways He delivered them from the time He saved them from the Egyptians to the time they entered the Promised Land, 40 years later?
     
Why else would Jesus say at the Last Supper over the bread and the wine, “Do this in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19)?
     
What do you see when you look in the rearview mirror of your life?
     
     
Thank you, God, for what I see in the rearview mirror. Amen.
     

More tea: Read Joshua 4

To risk it all

     
The integrity of the upright will guide them. – Proverbs 11:3 NKJV
     
     
If you’re a faithful reader of this blog, you know I love baseball. My family loves baseball. And I’m a diehard Pittsburgh Pirates fan.
     
I’m known to keep track of a Pirates game on my cell phone while sitting in the bleachers cheering on one of my grandchildren. All three who live in the area (next door, in fact) play ball. Our oldest grandson, Brent, and his younger brother, Deagen, both play baseball. Granddaughter Madison plays softball.
     
Baseball is the love of Brent’s life. He eats and breathes baseball even in the off-season, working on his swing and fielding techniques. He was the player taken off the field by ambulance when a violent collision with another player in the outfield resulted in a compound fracture of the upper bone in his left arm. There went All Star season that year. But he still sat in the dugout, arm in a sling after surgery at Children’s Hospital, keeping the record books.
     
Then the following spring he broke his little finger playing dodge ball in gym class. Now finger breaks these days aren’t too big of a deal, but this break occurred in the joint at the base of his finger, where it’s connected to the hand. He was swinging a bat and fielding balls within three weeks. He never missed a beat.
     
Like I said, he loves the game.
     
That’s why this year’s injury is so frustrating.
     
Actually it occurred last year when he dove for a fly ball in the outfield, jamming his shoulder upon impact with the ground. We all thought it was a jammed shoulder that would eventually heal on its own.
     
Only it didn’t.
     
The pain, which never completely went away, worsened when he began practice for tryouts for the high school JV team.
     
Now, Brent gives 101-percent and will ignore pain so he could play the game he loves.
     
But when the intense pain could no longer be ignored, a visit to the doctor was in order. An MRI revealed a bone break in the shoulder.
     
“Rest it for four weeks,” the doctor said, handing him an excuse for gym. If rest and physical therapy didn’t work, surgery was the next option.
     
Here he was in the middle of tryouts. With a broken shoulder. The first game in three weeks.
     
What to do? Keep playing hurt and continue to hide the injury from the coaches until after tryouts? Or tell the coaches he’d be out for at least four weeks, risking a chance to make the team?
     
He told the coaches.
     
“I could have waited until after tryouts and then handed them my doctor’s excuse,” he told me, “but I didn’t feel that was right.”
     
What integrity!
     
It made me think—Am I willing to risk it all to do the right thing?
     
I sure hope so. A young man at 15 set the bar for this grandma and reminded her there are things more important than fulfilling our dreams.
     
Oh, yes—Brent made the team.
     
So you know where this grandma will be come ball season.
     
     
Thank you, Father, for showing me integrity is not dead. Amen.
     
More tea: Read Psalm 1

Keeping the temple

     
Everything is permissible (allowable and lawful) for me; but not all things are helpful (good for me to do, expedient and profitable when considered with other things). Everything is lawful for me, but I will not become the slave of anything or brought under its power. – 1 Corinthians 6:12 (AMP)
     
     
Pregnancy messed up my hormones.
     
That’s when my weight problems started. Never mind that during my first pregnancy I kept a bag of candy in my desk drawer at school because I’d developed a fondness for gummy spearmint leaves and devoured them by the handful.
     
Image courtesy of kjnnt
at FreeDigitalPhotos.netHere I was the girl my grandmother called “peanut” because I was so small and who was mortified when the scales tipped at 135 when I was in college.
     
With every pregnancy (there were three), I kept on more weight. Then I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. When your metabolism slows down like it does when your thyroid gland is underactive, you gain weight and it’s next to impossible to get it off. So I said.
     
The baseball years didn’t help because when you eat on the run, you tend to consume fast foods that have little nutritional value but pack on the pounds. And then there were the pizza parties after the games.
     
Over the years, I’ve lost and gained and lost and gained – you know the drill. I’ve tried all kinds of diets. I lost weight but gained it all back (and then some) when I went off the diet.
     
Currently I’m eating gluten-free. And while I feel better – no sluggishness, brain fog, body aches, fatigue – I’ve learned “gluten-free” isn’t the magic bullet that will melt away all these unwanted pounds. I still have to avoid consuming too many calories, I still have to eat the foods that are right for me, and I still have to exercise three times a week if I want to see the numbers on the scale go down.
     
One thing all those diets did was teach me what I could eat and what I shouldn’t. I wish I could eat all the bread and pasta I want and not gain weight. But that’s not going to happen.
     
So I’ve got to be diligent about “temple keeping.”
     
Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono
at FreeDigitalPhotos.netMy body, you see, is a temple of the Holy Spirit (see 1 Corinthians 6:19-20), so “keeping the temple” means I take good care of it, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Body, mind, and spirit are all connected. If I neglect the physical, the spiritual and mental will also suffer for it.
     
Just like Jesus drove out the moneychangers from the temple, so I, too, must drive out anything that causes more harm than good.
     
That doesn’t mean that I can’t occasionally indulge in pizza or spearmint leaves. It does mean that I don’t allow them to become addictions.
     
It’s easy to blame my weight problems on pregnancy, hypothyroidism, and busyness. But the real reason comes down to the choices I made in eating and exercising.
     
I want this temple to last a long time and work the way it should. And that means I make the right choices in what goes in – physically, mentally, and spiritually.
     
What about you? How well are you keeping your temple?
     
     
Dear God, help me to make the right choices when it comes to feeding my body, mind, and spirit. Help me to be a good temple keeper. Amen.
      
More tea: Read John 2:13-17

The ending is sure

     
“These words are trustworthy and true.” – Revelation 22:6 NIV
     
     
My friend George Caylor and his wife, JoAnne, once met the late actor Charlton Heston when he visited Lynchburg, Va., where they live. Now George is not one to pass up an opportunity to meet someone like Heston, whose career included lead roles in such movies as The Ten Commandments, El Cid, and Ben Hur, for which he won an Academy Award in 1959.
     
Heston regaled them with the story of filming the famous chariot race in Ben Hur. Refusing to use a double for the scene, the actor had practiced for months. He was trying desperately to win the race when Director William Wyler drew him aside.
     
“Chuck,” he said, “the plot has been written! You win! Just stay on the chariot!”
     
What a reminder for believers!
     
We, too, often feel as though we’re running a desperate race—and losing.
     
Jostled about, thrown from side to side, bouncing every which way, we try to stay on our feet and maintain control. We take our eyes off the finish line to see what the enemy is up to.
     
And we do have an enemy—an unseen adversary who does whatever he can to trip us up, sidetrack us, get us to doubt our faith. If we abandon that faith, he’s won.
     
Have no doubt: This enemy is real, and he means business.
     
“For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood,” Paul wrote the Ephesian believers, “but against persons without bodies—the evil rulers of the unseen world, those mighty satanic beings and great evil princes of darkness who rule this world; and against huge numbers of wicked spirits in the spirit world” (Ephesians 6:12 LB).
     
Indeed, our adversary prowls around like an insatiable lion, looking for his next meal (2 Peter 5:8). One of his favorite strategies is to get you to take your eyes off the finish line and look in the rearview mirror—at your past. Your sin. Your guilt. Your shame. “How could God ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” you wonder.
     
Don’t fall for that trick. Your sin, guilt, and shame have been washed away forever by the blood of Jesus. As the saying goes, “When Satan reminds you of your past, remind him of his future.”
     
The race may be fierce, but the outcome is certain: You win; the devil loses (Revelation 20:10). If you’re a believer in Jesus (see 1 John 5:11-12), your victory was sealed over 2,000 years ago on a hill outside Jerusalem by none other than God’s own Son.
     
So if you’re being tossed about in this race called life and it seems as though you’re losing, remember: The plot has already been written! The ending is sure! You win!
     
All you have to do is stay on the chariot.
       
     
When doubt steps up in my life chariot and I try to take over the reins, remind me, Lord, that You are in control. My victory is certain, for You won it for me on Calvary. Help me to keep my eyes fixed on the finish line. Amen.

More tea: Read Revelation 19-22

When in deep water ...

Punxsutawney Area Middle School swimming pool, where I'm learning to swim
     
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. – Isaiah 43:2 NIV
     
     
The first couple of times I jumped off the low diving board at the local swimming pool, I landed on the sloped side near the ladder, so I didn’t think it was a problem that I couldn’t swim.
     
A teenage girl wants to do the things her friends are doing, right? And I was tired of playing it safe in the shallow water while everyone else was having a blast in the deep end of the pool. Back then I didn’t even know how to tread water. The only thing I knew how to do was the dead man’s float.
     
“How hard could it be?” I thought as I watched the others splashing off the diving board that long ago summer day. All I had to do was hop off the side so I landed on the slope near the ladder. So I swallowed my trepidation and took my place in line.
     
My strategy worked twice. The third time, however, I plunged into waters above my head.
     
I don’t remember how many times I bobbed to the surface, panicked and thrashing, my short life passing before my closed eyes. Then strong arms pulled me to safety. As I sat on the concrete beside the crowded pool, gasping and trembling, a lifelong fear was born.
     
For five decades, deep water terrified me. My kids all learned to swim, no thanks to me. When we went swimming, I stayed in the shallow water. When we went boating, I made sure I had a life vest strapped on tight.
     
Then my son and daughter-in-law bought an above-ground pool. Hot summer days found me cooling off in sun-warmed water that only came up to my neck. I learned to tread water and to propel myself beneath the surface. I practiced floating and splashed from one side of the pool to the other. As long as I could touch bottom (and my head was above the water), I was fine.
     
Maybe this long, cold winter made me stir crazy, but earlier this month I bought a pass for the indoor pool at the local middle school and began swimming lessons. By December, I told myself, I’d swim from one end of the pool to the other.
     
Last week, at the end of my second lesson, I met that goal, swimming on my back, my instructor beside me every stroke of the way.
     
“You’re doing fine,” she’d say. “Just a little farther.”
     
And so I kept going—swimming in 12 feet of water—something I didn’t think I’d do for a long time. But I couldn’t have done it without my instructor there beside me, encouraging me, giving me confidence with her presence.
     
It’s the same way with my swim through life.
     
When I must navigate deep waters, I’m not alone. My Instructor is beside me, encouraging me, ready to pull me out should I go under. His presence gives me the confidence I need to push on, just a little farther, stroke by stroke, until I finally reach the other side.
     
Thank you, Father God, that You never leave me or forsake me—even when I get in over my head. Amen.

More tea: Read Isaiah 43:1–7

Website moved

Dear readers,
As part of my annual project of streamlining and improving my online presence, I've MOVED MY WEBSITE to WordPress : Click here to come over and visit michelehuey.wordpress.com 
You'll find all the information on the new site that was on the old one, but in a less cluttered, less busy, and more user-friendly set-up. 
My SPEAKING page contains a list of my speaking topics, and you'll find a list of upcoming events where I'll be speaking and teaching in the sidebar on every page. There's also a CONTACT FORM on the SPEAKING page should you want to contact me about speaking at your event. 
Clicking on the BOOKS tab will take you directly to my Amazon author page, where you can browse my titles and order what you want to read next (or give as a gift). 
You can also purchase my books which have been published by Helping Hands Press on the HHP online store. The audio version of Fifth Wheel Vol. 1, "Gracie's Gift," is available only through HHP. To download a FREE SAMPLE  of the audio version of "Gracie's Gift," click here. I still have to put this information on the new site. As I said, it's a Work In Progress. 
Also to be added yet is a section "About Me," but, hey, if you've been reading this blog or my newspaper column (God, Me & a Cup of Tea) or any of my meditation books, you already know all about me! Hopefully "About Me" will be added by early next week.
I still haven't decided where to put the NEWS section: on the home page at the bottom or make a separate page? What do you think? I value your feedback, so please do leave your opinion in the comment section of this blog or send me a comment using the CONTACT form on the webpage.
Speaking of news, if you haven't already signed up for my NEWSLETTER, which you'll receive right in your email inbox, please do. Click here to sign up to receive MEMO FROM MICHELE as soon as it's hot off the press. I won't share your information, and you can opt out at any time. 
Speaking of which . . . if you've signed up to receive the newsletter and haven't gotten any since the first one was released back in November and you're wondering why . . . I simply dropped the ball. I'd hoped to put a newsletter out bi-monthly, but it looks more like it will be quarterly (every three months). Look to receive the next edition at the beginning of March.
And finally,  I want to THANK YOU, dear readers, for all your support, encouragement, prayers, and faithfulness. I look forward to hearing from you and staying connected. And I pray that the words that I write and speak will be to you  a cup of inspiration, a spoonful of encouragement, and a generous outpouring of the milk of God's love. 

Blessings,











Michele

Dean's jungle

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. – Romans 8:38–39 NIV
     
     
I call it “Dean’s Jungle”—the potted plant my husband lugged up from his mother’s house after she passed away.

That was in 1999. You’d think, with my track record with plants, the thing would be long wilted. But no, it’s green and growing and ugly (beauty is in the eye of the beholder, remember).

Even after having once been cut back to its roots, it stands over 5 feet high and is just as wide, its thick branches spreading out like an unruly child - branches that produce waxy, jungle-like leaves that spit wax because everything within a foot of it eventually acquires a waxy coating that’s a bugger to clean off.
     
During the summer months, Dean’s Jungle soaks in the sunshine on the back deck in a corner where I can’t see it, but where it gets plenty of wind, which, when strong enough, blows it over, spewing potting soil that you-know-who has to sweep up (not DH, and it’s his plant).
     
When fall comes around, it’s time to bring the monstrosity indoors. Last winter, my daughter-in-law kept it at their place since I didn’t have the room. So I claimed. Truth be told, I just didn’t want to make room for that dreadful thing. But, knowing what it means to my husband, I couldn’t bring myself to leave it outside once the nights brought killing frosts.
     
When spring arrived, guess what else did? And here I’d hoped the plant would grow on its adopted family. But no. Back on the deck Dean’s Jungle went to endure another windy summer. But come fall my daughter-in-law said she didn’t have room for it. She probably didn’t. Despite being blown over and alternately drowned and dried, the thing had grown up and out.
     
Fortunately for DH and unfortunately for me, we had the room downstairs since I’d given away my piano. Dean drove two 5-foot wooden stakes into the pot and tied the branches to them. At first the plant rebelled, dropping leaves like a mangy mutt during shedding season. Dean feared the plant was dying. I hoped it was.
     
But, alas, it was just preparing for another growth spurt. Now it thrives in the light streaming in from the southwestern window. Despite the fact that Dean forgets to water it and I purposely don’t. It just reaches for the sunlight and survives.
     
Dean’s Jungle is a living example of the kind of love Paul describes in1 Corinthians 13—a love that perseveres even when neglected. A steadfast love that never gives up, never fades, never wilts. A love that is everlasting.
     
The kind of love God has for us.
     
Father, forgive me when I take Your love for granted—when I ignore it, reject it, treat it as though it was something I deserve, something I’m entitled to. Remind me Your love is a gift I don’t even have to ask for. It’s there for the taking. Help me to love others as You love me. Amen.

More tea: Read Romans 8:31–39

When S.A.D. hits...

Image courtesy of Graur Razvan Ionut at FreeDigitalPhotos.net      
God is light and in Him is no darkness at all. – I John 1:5 NKJV     
      The week in January I spent visiting my brother in Alabama was nothing short of glorious for this winter-weary western Pennsylvania gal. The daytime temperature ranged from the mid-60s to the low 70s, the southern sun shone in cloudless blue skies, and a light jacket was all I needed when I ventured outside.

      And outside I went every day but one, soaking in as much sunshine—and vitamin D—as I could on my daily walks. I returned home re-energized in body, mind, and spirit.

      There’s energy in the sun’s rays, and for northerners like me who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), time spent in the sun is just the prescription needed to fight the lethargy, carb cravings, brain fog, low energy, and everything else associated with what’s also called the winter blues.

      Living where I do, I can’t do anything about the shorter daylight hours that disrupt my body’s internal clock, but I can take steps to fight the symptoms.

      Since a lack of adequate sunlight is the main cause of SAD, I spend as much time absorbing natural light during the winter months as I can. In addition to taking vitamin D supplements, I exercise regularly, which boosts my flagging metabolism, and avoid the sugary and starchy foods that just create the craving for more of same.

      We can suffer from spiritual SAD, too. Seasons of spiritual doldrums descend on all of us throughout life. Like with physical SAD, spiritual SAD can be overcome—but you can’t just wait it out, hoping it’ll go away on its own. You have to recognize the symptoms and make the effort to fight it.

      The prescription is the same: more light, exercise, and the right food.

      Get more light by spending more time with the SON.

      “I am the Light of the World,” Jesus said. “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). I spend time with the Son when I read the Gospels, allowing His words to soak into my spirit. All of God’s Word, for that matter, is “lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (Psalm 119:105).

      The second Rx is exercise. Daily walking by faith boosts a flagging spiritual metabolism, strengthening flabby spiritual muscles. I exercise faith when I trust God to provide what I need and not take matters in my own pathetic hands, when I wait for His guidance and not run ahead of Him, and when, instead of demanding my own way, I leave the choice to Him.

      Finally, the proper spiritual nourishment will help us avoid craving the wrong things—the junk that too often clutters our lives and clogs our joy. “My food,” Jesus once said, “is to do the will if Him who sent Me, and to finish His work” (John 4:34). In other words, obedience.
     
Have you spent time with the Son today?
     
      When S.A.D. hits, remind me, Lord, to seek the Son, for He is always shining. Amen.
      
More tea: Read John 1:1-4

The roving retirees return!

The roving retirees, Gracie and Jim, return home for Christmas to find their family in chaos: Their oldest son and his wife are on the verge of divorce, their daughter Gabby refuses to see a doctor for her chronic fatigue, and Jackson, their youngest, loses his job shortly after his wife gives birth to their first child. Gracie, her maternal instincts slammed into high gear, wants to rush in and fix things. She blames herself—this wouldn’t have happened if she and Jim had been around, she thinks. But Gracie needs to learn some important lessons about life, love, and letting go.

Now available for download for only $.99. Click here. 

The call

   
God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable. – Romans 11:29 NIV              As a freelance writer who has attained a modest degree of success (and I mean modest), I often get asked for advice from those who also have “The Dream.” Being a published novelist may seem impressive, and perhaps even glamorous, but the reality is far from it.        First, I am not rolling in the dough. Even with several titles to my name up on Amazon, if I ever make enough in royalties to pay the monthly electric bill, I'll be doing the happy dance. The average nonfiction title, for example, sells around 250 copies a year and 3,000 over its lifetime. By the time the distributor (Amazon, for example, takes a huge chunk out of a book’s sales) and the publisher get their piece of the pie (both of which are rightly due them, considering their part in getting the book out there for readers), there’s not as much left for the writer as you'd think.       So I don’t write for the money. If I want to make a living at this, I have to write a lot for a variety of markets and branch into speaking, teaching and mentoring/coaching, which I have. But I still don’t make enough to support myself.       Second, I’m not sitting pretty in some ivory tower eating chocolate, drinking tea, and pounding the keyboard as the words flow out of my creative muse. It’s more like staring at a blank screen and wringing words out of a stalled brain—then deleting them, rewriting and deleting and rewriting and deleting ad nauseum. Some days I hate what I write, and I question the call. Some days I despair.       Don’t get me wrong—there are times the words flow, the characters take over, and I get lost in the story world. But believe me, I have to endure many sessions of angst before the muse decides to dance and I experience a high like no other.       Then why do I write—if it’s W-O-R-K and it really doesn’t pay in dollars and cents?       Because it’s what I’m called to do.  It’s what God has gifted me to do. And I must obey the call and develop and dispense the gift.        Today’s Scripture readings tell of two responses to God’s call: Jonah’s first response when God called the prophet to go to the wicked city of Ninevah and “preach against it” and the four whom Jesus called to “Come, follow Me.”        We have the same choices today when God calls us: to run the other way, as Jonah did (and we know God didn’t let him off the hook), or drop what we’re doing and obey.       God doesn’t always call us to leave our homes and everything familiar to preach the Gospel in faraway lands. Some are called to the life of a missionary. Some are called to minister where they are with what they have—to do the best they can with what they have when they have the opportunity.        But He does call each of us to three things—to know Him, love Him, and fulfill His purpose for you in this world.        What will be your response?        
Dear God, sometimes, like Jonah, I want to run the other way when You call. I feel inadequate, scared, vulnerable. Give me the courage and conviction of the disciples who dropped everything and followed You—and consequently turned the world upside-down for You. Amen.
More tea: Read Jonah 1:1-3; Mark 1:14-20