Monthly Archives: July 2015

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I almost got run over this week at Market Basket. I was in the checkout lane looking down (at my phone I'm sure) when an elderly gentleman started backing up on one of Market Basket's scooters. A guy behind me shouted "He's fixing to run over you!"  I sidestepped with my little red basket reserved for the "under ten item shoppers" and barely escaped a broken toe. I thanked the guy behind me. 

  
Seconds later, I heard the guy behind me say something. Assuming we were now friends, being that he saved my toe, I turned around ready to respond. He wasn't looking at me but instead toward the rack of gossip magazines that Rylie calls out as sinful on every visit as she's straining to see Ben Affleck's new girlfriend on the cover of Star. 

"Was he talking to me?", I wondered. There was nobody with him or behind me but he hadn't acknowledged my turning towards him. I turned back around and stared at my phone again. 

Again he spoke and again I turned backward to face him, my new friend. I looked at him hoping he would repeat himself rather than making me ask him what he'd just said. This time he turned from the magazines and looked straight at me, but instead of repeating himself he looked at me like he was wondering why I was looking at him. 

Then he spoke...

-Only it wasn't to me, but somebody in his ear. He had one of those darned Bluetooth things that I wasn't aware of, on account of I forget about those things. He hadn't been talking to me at all (except for the toe-saving exclamation). 

Now I felt like the man on his scooter who was a little unaware of his surroundings. 

There are a couple of things I can think of that lead to this and other near accidents in front of me and the misunderstandings behind me. 

I need to look up. I have become obsessed with looking at my phone. It's my go to for information, entertainment and companionship. (Sad, I know.). 

 My phone tethers me in more ways than I'm aware. I answer every text like quicksilver. You've checked in somewhere on Facebook? I know where you are.  Yet I don't know that the gentleman in front of me is careening toward my person with his scooter which makes a noise loud enough noise to hear if you're paying any attention, which brings me to 

Problem #2

I can't hear. 

If you know me at all, you've probably heard me say something like 

"Can you tell me again." 

"What's that?"

"One more time?"

I've learned to read lips which works well unless you're the kids in the back of the car, you're the person on the other end of the phone, or you're the guy behind me in Market Basket trying to have a private conversation on Bluetooth. 

These two problems have caused me some embarrassment, feelings of isolation and on many occasions discouragement. 

My problem isn't limited to a phone habit or bad ears, I wish it was. I have small vision and a listening problem. 

By forgetting to look up, my vision is short-sided. I only see what's right in front of me.  My iPhone, yes, but more often my circumstances, keep me from seeing the bigger picture, the brighter picture. My focus is like the metallic ball in a pinball machine, small and unguided. 

I'm fixated on the sink full of dirty dishes that were all clean an hour ago. Im aggravated that my choice for the ESPN award isn't the one chosen. I'm worried at my kid's unexplained fever. I'm agitated that CVS doesn't have my prescription ready AGAIN at the promised time, as if that has grandiose eternal significance. 

Now about that hearing problem. It ties in closely to what I see, or don't see in front of me.  I can't help what I can't hear. But I can help who I listen to.  I can pay attention to the words on the lips of the One who speaks that I may hear.  I can disregard the voices that aren't meant for me, instead choosing the one that calls me to look up  giving me the proper perspective in which I can view all things. 

He has words of advice and encouragement with which he wishes to fill my ear and wrongly focused heart. His words remind me he is my friend. 

He waits for me to put down my phone, my worries, my frustrations and my preconceived notions. He desires that I depart from my routine, my company and the misleading voice in my head to look to him and the word he has for me. 

Unimposing, he waits. 

God has every intention of being my Bluetooth. He's the one in front, looking out for me and the one behind me. And he ALWAYS has a word for me. 

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Ever heard of Dr. Deborah Nucatola?

 I hadn't before today, but her name is now one I won't forget. She's the senior director of Planned Parenthood who is responsible for overseeing medical practice in PP's clinics. WND Health reports that she has held her position since 2009 performing abortions and training new abortion doctors on babies up to 24 weeks. ...Stick with me. 

  An undercover video released today by the Center for Medical Progress shows Nucatola speaking candidly with undercover actors. A man and woman pose as buyers from a human biologics company interested in buying organs (belonging to unborn babies who are being aborted). 

Nucatola discusses how Planned Parenthood sells the parts of these destroyed babies, at times using partial birth abortions to do so. If there is any question, this is indefensible,  not to mention it's unlawful. On this video which can be found on YouTube, Nucatola shares with the potential buyers (posers) how abortionists cover up this illegal practice. 

These organs are said to be harvested for use in scientific research. 

In the video she chomps salad while describing the violent nature in which this procedure is performed, nonchalantly detailing how the baby is "crushed" leaving necessary parts intact, including the head. 

Planned Parenthood, the organization supposedly FOR women, is making profit off selling the body parts of their children.  

Several sources (including the the YouTube video with Dr. Nucatola) and a link with a petition will be on my Facebook wall. I don't talk about abortion often publicly because it's something I'm most passionate about and I tend to speak with less composure when I talk about it. But this makes me sick and I can't be silent. 

I'm guessing we won't hear a lot about this from the mainstream media being that it doesn't fit their agenda. 

I might not have brought it up myself had there not been something we can do about it. 

Obviously we can pray.  We can pray for the hearts of expecting moms who find themselves in often tumultuous situations where they believe, many times they're encouraged, that there's no other way for them other than an abortion. We can pray for those who facilitate abortions, in any capacity.  Pray that they would have a somber realization of what it is they're participating in. 

Pray for those who are Pro-Choice. Pray that their hearts would come to an understanding of what constitutes life. Each life has value and that life exceeds a choice. 

Pray for Pro-Lifers; that they would advocate, empowered with courage to speak words of wisdom and love to those with whom they have contact. 

Pray for those who have a vote that impacts the lives of the unborn (which is really each of us). Pray that the cause of the unborn would find root in our hearts rather than being something that sparks a fury that fast fizzles when we scroll down to some other horrifying piece of news. 

And, finally, sign the petition found in the WND post on my Facebook wall. I'm trying to get a direct link here. This petition asks congress to investigate Planned Parenthood regarding the sell of these organs from the unborn.  Surely we can do that. 

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Hallie is not camp material. She doesn't like loud music, she's a picky eater, and probably most contrary to camp-loving, she has serious space issues. 

  
No lie. Her first sentence as a toddler was "I need my space". I don't remember the other two kids' first sentences, it's just that her's was important. She had a five-and-a-half year old space-invading, hug-loving brother. Before we taught her how to say "I need my space",  she would scream and swat at Hayden like he was a gargantuan blood-sucking insect come to sap her life. She reacts that same way on the inside to most social activities. 

But she left for camp this morning along with eight other teens. They'll be at DBU for the week. I took her shopping a few days ago in hopes to get her excited about the trip. I bought her a Marvel t-shirt (she's a big Marvel fan), some gum, and some Pringles. Sour Cream and Onion Pringles are one of her love languages. Solitude is another of her love languages. 

At least she'll have one of those with her on the trip. 

Here's the crew. Pray for them. And see what I mean about the "space issue"?

I'm guessing the Pringles will be gone by tomorrow; the rest of the snacks will probably last a couple of days if she keeps them hidden like the strawberry yogurt she sneaks behind the pickled okra in the fridge so Hayden and Rylie won't find it. 

The snacks will quickly disappear, but I've made a list of things I pray she'll bring back with her when we see her at the end of this week. 

Here's the list in case you want to join me in asking God for these things for her (and, well,  the other kids too). 

I pray that she'll learn to experience God alone in a crowded room. 

-That she'll better learn that she's never alone even when she's the only one in her room. 

My prayer is that she'll learn that "God is bigger than the Boogeyman" like Veggie Tales used to tell her. 

May she learn to hear him better when His voice is small, but sure. 

I pray her desire for his word and her desire to obey it will grow. 

Of course I think she's beautiful.  My hope is that she'll hold fast to the kind of beauty God describes in 1 Peter:

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment.....Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. 

I pray that she'll learn that worship can be practiced when you're out of your comfort zone (in her case maybe touching shoulders with some gregarious fella who wants the whole world to hear him belt out "I can only imagine........yeah"). May she learn that worship sometimes best happens when things aren't comfortable. 

May she find new courage to carry to high school that will help her make new friends and find her English class the first day. May that courage remind her to be a friend to all.

I pray that her heart will grow in its desire to serve. 

Never be lacking  in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.  Romans 12:11

I pray that she will come to know God more intimately than she has before; that all the space in her heart will be occupied with new things from Him. 

I know that's a lot of stuff to ask that she comes back with. But she did take four big bags. 

That's plenty of room.

  

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I dreamed about the end-times again last night. My dream included a sky of funnel-like clouds that dipped into every inch of a dark sky. A dreadful dreamer, I was at college, unprepared for some big assignment I knew nothing about. 

- A cataclysmic storm and the old "un-prepared at college" dream? Gosh I'm a bummer. 

Our professor had given us a mid-class break so the class was outside. The funnel clouds produced war-like spaceships that quickly invaded the air above head. Everybody ran and took shelter. Aliens (I guess ?) proceeded to zap everybody in sight with some sort of gun that turned us into zombies.  
 
.....And I don't even watch Sci-Fi. 
 
I'm assuming I dreamed this because of my remark just the other day that my reaction to undesired events is like that of Chicken Little. Bet I'm not the only one.  I act like the sky is falling. I overreact. I speak hopelessly and then hide (like I did in my dream). 

Another response to yucky stuff involves some sort of a rescue plan. I've got to fix the wrongs. 

Other times I get angry and sulk, or lash out. 


I usually wait until I become desperate before I throw my hands up to the one above my falling sky; the one who has set the moon and stars in their place. 
 
The last two weeks has been full of undesired events thanks to the Supreme Court and the derision found in a litany of FB comments thereafter (Add the confederate flag debate and Facebook has been a war zone).  We've had a nine-year-old with multiple bacterial infections, including pneumonia, with symptoms ranging from daily fever and vomit, pain and lethargy to asthma attacks and hives. There have also been a couple of other personal sad occasions. 
 
I've given time the past few days to think not so much about my feelings regarding these events, but more to my actual response. I'm being reminded that my response says much (maybe more)about my faith than my stated beliefs no matter how many times I express what I believe. 

The way I act, especially following bad times, either confirms my faith or shows a lack of it. 
 
Scripture today has given me a firm path to set my feet back on. God has a good word for the anxiety and anger that so easily well up in this heart of mine AND the spirit I find crushed in tough times. 
 

The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
 
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken spirit and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17
 
He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds Psalm 147:3

 
That makes me think we can expect (not welcome, but expect) that our hearts will be sick and burdened sometimes. These occasions God has said he will attend. 
 

Do not be anxious about anything. Philippians 4:6
 
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful,for building others up according to their needs, that may benefit those who listen. Ephesians 4:26
 

Trust in the Lord..... Proverbs 3:5
 
....man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires...... James 1:20
 
An anxious heart weighs a man down.... Proverbs 11:25
 
Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city. Proverbs 16:32

 
It's expected that we'll be angry, but God tells us that our anger "does no good". Likewise the only good outcome of worry is recognition that we are powerless without God. 

I'm finding the more passionately I feel about a matter the more my response ought to be measured carefully in prayer before responding outwardly even in cases where I'm sure I'm speaking on God's behalf. 
 

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxieties on him.... be self-controlled and alert... 1Peter 5:6-8

 
When your heart is broken,  God is near.  
 
Cast your cares, your troubles on the Lord. God is near. 
 
-Your anger too. He'd rather you give it to him than you use it, venting foolishly or thinking his cause is furthered in fury. 

God is near. 
 
I'm also reminded to give thanks. 
 

The LORD is my strength and shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy [even in times of grief,....maybe a little leap, but it leaps] and I will give thanks.... Psalm 28:7

Here are a few of the day's thanks:
 
Rylie's out of bed today feeling much better. 
     

   My cousin and his wife are expecting quadruplets in January. 

God is still on the throne. 

I'm not in college. 

It's summer. 

The Supreme Court hasn't made a ruling today.  

The sky isn't falling.

 In fact, the sun has shone all day.