Fear Not . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Wait a minute. I thought I parked right by this lamp post. Where’s my car? I walk a little farther. No, that’s not right. I look around. Could it have been a different lamp post? Wait. I was lined up with the entrance to Sears. It has to be here. My heart begins to pound. Could someone have stolen my car?fear

The thought that my mid-life-crisis-Mustang disappeared fills me with dread. My beautiful car! The pang of loss brings tears to my eyes. How will I get home? When will I get home? The time and inconvenience involved in dealing with police reports, with insurance adjustors. I double tap the remote lock button on my car key. A nearby chirp from behind an SUV alerts me to my Mustang’s location. Relief and joy fill my spirit, releasing the gut-wrenching fear.

I recently read a quote from Michael Jordan: “Fear is an illusion.”

Michael-Jordan-quote-on-fear

I think Jordan was referring to the role fear plays in professional life, though he may have meant fear in general. My initial reaction to his words was denial. Fear is a reasonable response to adverse circumstances: a flood’s devastation; a terminal medical diagnosis; a loved one in danger. Fear is tangible.

Then I thought about it some more. If fear paralyzes you into inaction, then it truly is an obstacle. But if it spurs you to action, fear dissipates, like smoke or mist, something without substance–an illusion. If you confront the problem, you might encounter resistance and hardship, but the fear response is replaced by purpose.

The phrase “Do not be afraid” appears in the Bible 365 times. Isn’t that an interesting number? It’s as though God wanted to give us a daily reminder that if we trust Him, we have no need to fear.  Biblical accounts of angel apparitions often include the spoken words, “Do not be afraid.” Curious—the first human response to seeing a messenger from God is fear, then replaced with joy.

Fear not

Letting go of fear and trusting God sounds so simple, but I have such a hard time actually doing it. On an intellectual level, I know God will provide what I need. Yet I find myself worrying anyway. What is worry, if not fear of outcome? It is the opposite of trust. Lord, I believe. Please help my unbelief. Amen.

How do you deal with fear? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

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Hints for the New Widow(er). . . by Donna Clark Goodrich

Take Time to Grieve

Everyone grieves differently. While one person may seem to have boundless energy and begin immediately cleaning and sorting and getting rid of things, another may find it difficult to get out of bed and face a new day. The grief can also be delayed for days and weeks, even months, because of paperwork to be completed, sorting of spouses’ clothes, company, or work responsibilities.

Doug Manning, in his book, Don’t Take My Grief Away, quotes a newspaper survey that asked people how long it took to mourn the loss of a loved one. Answers varied from forty-eight hours to two weeks, while clinical tests showed it takes from eighteen months to two years. The only ones who knew were those who had themselves experienced grief. He assures us that “Grieving is as natural as crying when you are hurt, sleeping when you are tired, or sneezing when your nose itches. It is nature’s way of healing a broken heart.

“Don’t let anyone take your grief from you,” Manning says. “You deserve it, and you must have it. If you had broken a leg, no one would criticize you for using crutches until it was healed. If you had major surgery, no one would pressure you to run in a marathon the next week. Grief is a major wound. It does not heal overnight. You must have the time and the crutches until you heal.”

May the God of all hope fill you with all the joy and peace so that you may abound in all hope.Release Your Guilt Over Your Sense of Freedom

You’ve been a caregiver for months or even years, and have been almost as housebound as the person you’re caring for. Suddenly, unless you have other members in the household, you can cook when you want and what you want, watch whatever TV program you want, and go where you want whenever you want. And you feel guilty!

You don’t have to! You’ve done everything you can for that person—most likely a spouse. Now they’re gone and it’s time for you to take care of yourself. Take a little vacation if money permits, sign up for a class at a local community college, begin having lunch with friends who have stood by you all this time.

Don’t Second Guess Decisions You Made

Yes, there probably will be times of regret: Why did I do this or that? I should have… If I had done this, he/she would still be alive. Remember these two things:

  1. The decision has been made and can’t be undone, and
  2. You made the decision with all the information you had available at the time.

After my mother died, I went through a time of depression. I tried to read the Bible and pray, but it seemed no one was listening. One day as I washed the dishes, tears ran down my cheeks. In desperation, I shook my fist at the heavens and yelled, “Is anyone up there? Is anybody listening?” Immediately, from the television set in the living room came these words: “The audio portion of this program is temporarily disrupted. Please stand by.”

The words couldn’t have come at a better time. God was still listening; He wasn’t giving up on me. I was to stand by and wait for the morning when, as His Word promises, joy would return: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).

The line to heaven may be temporarily disrupted due to your grief, but God is still listening. Just stand by!

What has helped you in your time of grief?

 

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The Power of Hope…by Linda Carlblom

It lives on the edges of my mind, permeating everything I do. Without it, I’m sad, downcast, listless, feeling like my life doesn’t matter. But then hope walks in and changes everything.

Even David of the Bible recognized the power of hope. “Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again–my Savior and my God!” (Psalm 42:5 nlt).

You may not think you believe in all that God stuff. But if you have hope, you have God, because He is the Author of hope.

May the God of all hope fill you with all the joy and peace so that you may abound in all hope.

Romans 15:13

I’ve learned that when I’m feeling down, I need to return to God. I may not think I’m so far from Him, but sometimes I’m like a child who runs off to play and keeps returning to his mom for reassurance before running off again. I just need to remind myself that God is near. As long as He’s in the picture, my hope still flickers, even in the most dismal circumstances.

Often, God uses other things or people to instill hope. But He’s still the Author of it. He may point me to a book to read, or a friend may say just the right thing at the right time, or I might find a website that offers the help I need. With God in charge of my life I’m never without hope. I can relax in the assurance that He’s behind the scenes working things out for my best.

No matter how bad my situation is, God is already there, using it for my good–to strengthen my character or increase my sympathy for others. He’s orchestrating an outcome that will bless me and He will be with me all the way. Hope holds all the potential your heart dreams of. It keeps moving you forward, one step at a time. It can never be overrated because its power is limitless, just like its Author.

My life verse speaks to the hope that sustains me through every curve life throws:

Jer. 29.11

Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT) Photo courtesy of Air1 Radio.

Did you get that? God plans to give us hope. We are never hopeless with God. His plans for us are always good and they always include a hopeful future. Rest in that today. Look for sprouts of hope in your life. Nurture them so they’ll grow into a great big hope that holds you steady in tough times.

What gives you hope? Can you remember an instance when hope got you through a difficult time?

Linda

 

 

Posted in Christian Living, Faith, Hope, Life, Motivation, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

I’m an Old Lady and It’s My Husband’s Fault by Betty Mason Arthurs

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I’m an Old Lady and It’s My Husband’s Fault…by Betty Mason Arthurs

I turned 70 years this month, but when did I turn old? Now I remember and how could I forget? My husband John pushed me over the edge and into an ancient abyss reserved for people like Moses and Mrs. Noah…really, really old folks.

I’ll try to make a short story even longer to fill up the required words for this posting.

A few months ago I was in the hospital for another surgery, this time on my right ear. After decades of hearing problems due to childhood bouts of measles and infections, a CT scan confirmed some weird tissue had taken over my inner ear and was migrating to my brain. Only I could come up with a freaky excuse for an expert ear surgeon to craft a new inner ear, save my hearing and my brain. The dreaded curse of old age is that I’m falling apart and I blame my DNA, the fumes from my cats’ litter box, and Kansas tornadoes of my childhood.

My husband John wheeled me into check-in at the fine hospital. Soon our daughter Julie and son Rob would arrive to support us. Meanwhile, the young nurse, Ali, got me all settled in the “space suit” which would comfort me and make me hot as blazes while pumping me up in a cushion of air. She asked the normal, tiresome questions and tapped the answers into the bedside computer. John helped to answer facts about my medical history, “Well, Mom, isn’t it true you were on antibiotics last week? And, Mom, a month ago the doctor ordered a chest x-ray?” Mom this and Mom that. He was just so irritatingly helpful.

John has called me “Mom” ever since Julie and Rob were born…maybe it’s because he was born in Pennsylvania and it’s a folksy way of connecting a child with her/his mommy, but who knows why.

When nurse Ali said to me, “I’m all done with the questions. Your son can stay here as long as he likes,” we knew John had innocently bamboozled her. Can we say it was this nurse’s most embarrassing moment?

I couldn’t stop laughing. It was just what I needed to break my stress and fear. John, ever so kind, explained, “I’m her husband, not her son. I’ve called her Mom since our kids were born.” And still I laughed.

Red-faced and flustered Ali apologized and flew out of the room.

In a few minutes our daughter Julie arrived. Another nurse, Jennifer, came in to start my IV and then tapped more info. into the computer. She turned and saw Rob wave as he walked into my room. “Oh, here’s the real son!”

Since John still has dark brown hair, maybe it’s time to color my white hair to a lovely purple or orange, get a rose tattoo, wear short-shorts, bring back my miniskirts from the 70s…anything to help me look younger than John. But I really like being called “mom” and being a grandma of eight, I like being called “Gammy,” so named by my first grandson who also told me, “You’re just so cute!” Soon we’ll have a great-granddaughter. They say, “truth hurts” but for me, it only hurts for a short time. I’ll be mom and grandma forever.

Rob and his wife, Heather, and their children gave me a birthday card with the caption: Where would we be without you, Mom? One of us wouldn’t exist and the other would be married to some loser.

We laughed and laughed over the card’s sentiment. It’s not bad living for seven decades when I’ve been so blessed by God in spite of all the problems life throws at me and our family and friends. And my ear surgery was successful because I just heard John call me, “Mom.”

The Bible offers comfort:
Even to your old age I am He, and even to hair white with age will I carry you. I have made, and I will bear; yes, I will carry and will save you. (Isaiah 46:4 AMP)

Posted in Aging, Family Life, Health and Beauty, hospitals, Humor, Life Transitions, Love, Mom | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Can Your Art Change The World?

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5 Ways to Tell if Your Child is Ready to Accept Jesus…By Linda Carlblom

Child PrayingI’m a firm believer that God works in the hearts of children just as much as he works in the hearts of adults. And I believe a child can choose to follow Jesus and mean it for life. I also think children are capable of making this important decision on thier own and should never be pressured, guilted or coerced into it.

That said, parents are their children’s primary teachers and they have a responsibility to share Christ with their kids. Hopefully, this will lead them to accept Jesus as their Savior. But how can you tell if your child is ready to take such a huge spiritual step? How can you be sure he isn’t doing it because his friend is? How do you know he didn’t get pressured into it at church or camp? These are valid questions and concerns. Naturally, you’ll want to make sure your child understands your church’s teachings before she takes that important decision to ask Jesus into her heart. But beyond that, here are some things to help you figure it out.

Your child is probably ready if:

1. He exhibits a love for Jesus and growing closer to Him. This might be demonstrated by his enthusiasm for going to church, having devotions at home (with or without you), and if he has a prayer life.

2. He asks questions about spiritual matters and/or looks at the world from a spiritual perspective. Does he see a sunset and say, “Look what God did?” Does he readily turn to God when he needs help? Does he wonder where God is when he sees sadness in the world? These are examples of seeing the world from a spiritual perspective.

3. He wants to share his faith with his friends. Inviting kids to join him at church or special church activities shows he’s excited about his relationship with Jesus and wants others to experience it too. Or maybe he’s one who prays for his friends. That’s another way to include his friends in his faith.

4. He understands what commitment is. Accepting Christ is a pretty awesome lifelong commitment and your child needs to understand what’s involved. A commitment is something you don’t change your mind about. It is something to be taken seriously. It means, in this case, that you’ll love Jesus and live for Him forever.

5. You reassure him about his fears and concerns. Your child may be ready emotionally and spiritually, but he may have fears about doing it. When I was a child, accepting Jesus also meant being baptized, but I was afraid of being dunked in the water. Today, accepting Jesus starts with a prayer of repentance and commitment. Baptism may not follow for a few years. But a child sometimes has fears that hold him back from praying that life-changing prayer. He may fear ridicule from his family or friends, or he may be afraid of what accepting Jesus will mean in his life. He may be afraid he’ll fail as a Christian. Your reassurance of whatever fears or concerns he may have will smooth the decision-making process for him.

I encourage you to talk to your child at least once a year about this important step. Make it a part of your casual conversation. Let him know you’ll support him whenever he’s ready to give his life to Jesus and that you trust his judgment to do it when God tells him it’s time. Seeing your child grow in his faith is one of the sweetest things you’ll get to experience as a parent. And when he finally takes the step of accepting Jesus, it’s time to celebrate!

Posted in Bible, Celebrations, Children's MInistry, Christian Living, Church, Faith, Family Life, Jesus, Ministry, Parenting, Prayer, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Big Little Things

A couple of weeks ago I completed a challenge to toss 2,014 items I no longer find useful, helpful, or lovely. Even though the goal was to finish this task in the year 2014, (I know, I know…) I still claim victory.  Actually, that was only Round One. At least that many more items still lurk around my home and garage, ready to make that One Last Trip to either the Salvation Army, the domestic violence shelter, the recycle bin or the trash can.

Most of the tossed items are now gone from my memory as well as my home. I couldn’t tell you what more than a half dozen of them were. Just as well. Even as I examined them, I wondered what had possessed me to buy them in the first place, or keep them this long.

I organized the treasures that I kept and can now tell you where (almost) everything is (if you really want to know, and it won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t, since I know you have my important things to think about…like what to do with your own stuff).

It was a huge, horrible job that took a lot of hard work, a lot of time, and a lot of determination. I am inordinately proud of that accomplishment.  And I discovered something in the process (in addition to lots of buried treasure.)

Little things can trip you up. Little things can stall your progress, even derail your whole project. Little things become big things if you don’t deal with them.

For example, after sorting and storing all the Christmas decorations on the top shelf in the garage, I ran across an unopened package of Santa-sporting gift tags. Darn it. I didn’t want to drag out the ladder, climb up, balance myself on the top rung, stuff the package into the red box with the green lid, climb back down, all the while risking breaking something important (mostly, any part of my body.) What to do? Throw them away? That went against my father’s instructions to me on frugality. They were still perfectly good, after all.

“I’ll just stick them here for the moment,” I reasoned, laying them on the edge of a stack of games, organized by box width.  Later, I found two CDs I couldn’t remember purchasing much less ever hearing and decided to check with other family members before adding those CDs to the to-go pile. Where to put them until then? How about right here in this crack between the box of slides to go through some day and my high school yearbooks? Perfect!

Then I stumbled across a few other items that seemingly fit into no category whatsoever.  I set them aside and, finding a way to have some fun in this whole process, quoted out loud (to myself) a line from my favorite movie, “I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is…another day!”

After a few more such discoveries and decisions, I stepped back to examine my progress. My delight turned to disappointment. I hadn’t properly dealt with those little things and now they had messed up my goal in a big way.

I would like to tell you that since then, I now leave no detail, no matter how small, unattended. That I address every point of an issue, no matter how long it may take me. That I complete every aspect of all tasks, no matter how inconvenient at the moment, because I know they will come back to bite me in the bum if I do not.

I would like to tell you that, but it wouldn’t be true. But I can tell you that I have gotten much better at follow-through and paying attention to little details. That’s a goal for 2015. I’m hopeful I’ll continue to improve. It’s still just August!

What “little things” distract you? What are you doing to overcome them? Good luck! I’m hopeful you will make great progress!

Posted in Decluttering, Fathers, Finding solutions, Frustrations, Learning New Skills, Perserverance | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Abortion…I was there in the beginning, Part 2 by Betty L. Arthurs

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Abortion…I was there in the beginning. Part 2 by Betty L. Arthurs

Looking back over 40 years later, it seems impossible doesn’t it that I, happily pregnant, was helping to care for, along with other pregnant co-workers, mothers killing their babies?

John finished his studies in May and found a temporary job so I could quit working.
We were waiting for a teaching position to open up in Wilson, NY. Julie and I played for many long hours as my due date in June drew near. What a relief to not work and have time to rest. But one day I stopped feeling life in our baby, something was not right. Frantic, we rushed to my obstetrician who confirmed that our baby had died. In a few days I delivered Christopher Lee, always an active little guy, with the umbilical cord
wrapped around his neck. He was so perfect, so beautiful. There were no ultra-sounds in those days to warn of such a danger. And I was in the hospital where I had worked and where they killed babies. Only God and his love sustained us through those days of grief.
A short poem I love comes from a greeting card:

Trust God when dark days assail thee,
Trust Him when thy faith is small,
Trust Him when to simply trust Him,
Is the hardest thing of all.

John did get the teaching position and we moved back home to Niagara Falls country. In a few years another precious boy was born, Robbie, and we eventually moved to Arizona. Through the years we became active in pro-life causes. I have held the hands and prayed with women in church and at spiritual retreats who were held captive in the bondage of depression and shame over the abortions they had…God’s forgiveness was there and they learned to forgive themselves.

We didn’t know God was orchestrating an amazing event. The event was the birth of a boy, our first grandchild, adopted by our daughter Julie and her husband Mike, named Kyle Christopher. We’ve been forever grateful his birth mother chose life for him. Now Kyle is married and he and Rachel are expecting their first baby, a girl. We treasure the years with our children and eight grandchildren, showing us the circle of life fashioned by God brings healing and hope.

Yes, I was there in the beginning and I pray America will wake up and reject the culture of death abortion brings. Will you pray too?

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Abortion…I was there in the beginning, Part 1 by Betty L. Arthurs

 

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Abortion…I was there in the beginning. Part 1 by Betty L. Arthurs

Over the years, many people have distanced themselves from the abortion debate until recently they learned of Planned Parenthood’s selling of body parts from pre-born babies.
Undercover videos revealed the scope of the heartless attitude of executives talking about their gruesome enterprise like they were dissecting fetal pigs in a college biology class.
For years abortion providers have told pregnant women it’s just a blob of tissue, let us help you take care of your problem. A fetal heart saved from the crushing of an abortionist is a tiny bit of flesh?

I was there from the beginning when abortion was made legal in the state of New York…before Roe v Wade.

In the early 1970s my husband and I moved to a college town in the Finger Lakes region of the state of New York so he could attend graduate school. I worked an evening shift, 3PM to 11PM, at a small hospital as an RN. This shift worked well for us since John could watch our toddler daughter, Julie, after his classes were done.

My nursing tasks were routine pre-op and post-op care on a surgical floor. All accident victims came to us from the ER since most would need surgery. Giving out medications, checking surgical dressings, comforting those laid up in traction, checking on cancer patients, making rounds with doctors…as nurses we kept busy, depending on our nurse’s aides and orderlies for help.

Back then I never paid much attention to the news so it was a shock when my co-workers talked about the new doctor, I’ll call him Dr. S., (I will never forget his real name) and how he was using the operating rooms to perform abortions. Up until then I had lead a very sheltered life. Obstetric textbooks taught us about miscarriages or spontaneous abortions where a grieving mother and father lost their baby, but not intentional abortions.

The nursing staff was in an uproar. Operating room nurses ran out, crying and threatening to quit, “some of the babies were born alive.” Other doctors were also horrified. But the hospital by now was making a lot of money off abortions since the women had to pay cash up front…no way would they stop these procedures. New nurses were hired with stronger stomachs to help the doctor of death.

Soon the overflow of women waiting for abortions came to our surgical floor. The doctor had advertised in newspapers and magazines. The women poured in from states where abortion was illegal. A thirteen year-old girl from Ohio told my nurse’s aide, “I have a boyfriend,” when her parents said she had been raped.

In a room with six beds, one woman would be recovering from a mastectomy, another had had gall bladder surgery, but one bed held a woman with a huge stomach undergoing a saline abortion. Hours earlier, Dr. S., huge syringe in hand, plunged the needle into her uterus and gave her baby a few hours to be poisoned and burned alive. Then in the operating room he would remove her “problem.” In the coming years, saline abortions would stop since so many babies survived the procedure, giving way to late term abortions where the abortionists carved up the baby to remove it.

After their procedures, the women would come back to us for a few hours and we would monitor their blood pressures and check for excessive bleeding. They looked half dead, not much of a medical term, but that’s what I observed. Soon they were discharged.

I never saw any poor women. There were college students, women who said, “I already have three children and my husband and I don’t want anymore,” teenagers whose parents didn’t want the shame of an unwanted pregnancy; older women and very young from all walks of life came to our Dr. S. In case you’re wondering, birth control in all forms was cheap and available at this time.

Now, 45 years later I know, this was how mixed-up American culture would help the poor, give sexual freedom, control the population, give the founder of Planned Parenthood, Margaret Sanger, the superior race of intellectual white people she craved. It’s true what the Bible says: “ For wherever there is jealousy (envy) and contention (rivalry and selfish ambition), there will also be confusion (unrest, disharmony, rebellion) and all sorts of evil and vile practices.” James 3:16 (AMP)

I remember those months as being a time when the hospital exchanged its call of giving and sustaining life for a spirit of death. It was a time when I prayed for God’s help just to get me through each shift. My co-workers and I were locked into our jobs since there were no other hospitals in the area. The women were our patients and needed care and I knew God loved them more than they could understand.

And I was six months pregnant. Part 2 tomorrow, August 1, continues my story.

 

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Oh, What Needless Guilt We Bear…by Donna Clark Goodrich

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“I need to talk to you about something,” I said to my husband one night before going to sleep.

“Oh, oh, sounds serious,” he answered.

“It is!” I continued, “I know through the years there have been times I’ve said some really mean things to you and got mad at you too often. I know I apologized right away, but I need to know: Have you forgiven me for those times?”

“Honey,” he put his arms around me. “I forgave you as soon as they happened. I knew when you said them that you didn’t mean them. You were just overtired and overworked.”

“You mean, I’ve carried the guilt all these years, and you had already forgiven me?” Relief overwhelmed me.

I was born with a guilt complex. It attached itself to my DNA in the delivery room, and continued to be my lifelong partner for years. I felt guilty…

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