The Wisdom of the Innocents

My introduction to the cruelty of life came at a young age. My two sisters and I were given three baby bunnies one summer which we named Petunia, Sweet Pea, and Tar Baby. For weeks we coddled our wee bundles of fluff, wrapping them in doll blankets, toting them everywhere we went, feeding them treats of grapes and peanut butter crackers. By fall, when we headed back to school, the novelty of our pets had worn off and they spent more and more time in their joint pen where they grew into adult rabbits who mated and gave birth. Discovering the new babies was not the Disney Experience you might expect but more of a Bunny Holocaust: The naked, newborn bunnies were tiny and perfect--right down to their miniature noses and eyelashes. And they were also bloodied and half-eaten; victims of their own witless, clueless mothers who greeted us with their usual enthusiasm, looking for treats.

Sometimes, it takes a child to give voice to what adults shudder to acknowledge. I recall a story from years ago, of a mother who had inadvertently left out a pamphlet of information on abortion that contained graphic images of aborted fetuses. Her toddler discovered the pamphlet and brought it to her mother and asked with a furrowed brow, "Who broke the baby?"

The little girl was too young to know that what she was seeing, human body parts, was "not actually a baby, but a fetus, a mere blob of flesh" torn from the uterus of a woman who did not welcome it. She was too young to know that a decision whether to "continue the pregnancy" was a "personal matter between a woman and her doctor." She did not know that human life is valuable and protected only when children are planned and wanted. She did not know that the country in which she lives is hotly divided by this issue of the Right to Choose, precluding any rights of personhood the child itself may deserve. She did not know that babies can be legally crushed and torn limb from limb out of their mother's bodies until the day they are due to be born, and it is not considered a crime. This little girl's brain was not muddled with political correctness. All she knew was someone had broken a baby.

Like this child, there is much I don't understand in our world. Just as I could not fathom a momma rabbit killing and eating her own young, I do not understand the female gender of my species. I do not understand women who fight for equality with men in every respect forgetting that they have an ability no man could ever possess--the gift to conceive, nurture, and bear life. Only a woman will ever experience the wonder of an unborn baby's hiccups or midnight gymnastics. Only she will know the thrill of pushing that person from her body into the world and hearing his first cries. It is a privilege that defies description! If it were only men who were lobbying for abortion rights, I could maybe understand--they might feign ignorance based on lack of experience. What could they know about the wonder of cohabiting the same body as another? And yet women, in defense of women's rights, are militant about permitting the choice of other women to kill their innocent unborn children. How can they not defend the tiniest, weakest souls among us who have no voice? How can other women turn away and stay silent? Where is the maternal instinct in humanity? Are we so cultured, so wise, so beyond something as base as reproducing other humans? Where is nurturing? Where is tenderness? Does this not go against everything that is sane?

Oh, that we would ask a toddler what is right!

I am convinced that any girl/woman considering abortion would think twice if she got to see what was really going on inside her womb. What if she could see that child opening and closing his fingers or sucking his thumb? Or what if live abortions were shown on cable TV channels just like other routine surgeries in reality programming? You know why they aren't. Abortions are not like any other surgeries and we instinctively know it! We want to keep things secret and private so the reality of the horror is known only to a select few which have somehow managed to override their own consciences. Today I watched an older movie clip on YouTube called The Eclipse of Reason. Charlton Heston gives the introduction and then a physician who formerly performed abortions talks the viewing audience through an actual abortion as seen through a fiber optics camera inserted into a woman's uterus. You see the child's limbs torn from his torso as blood fills the uterus. The 12 oz baby is extracted piece by piece and reassembled like a puzzle on a sterile tray to make sure they "got everything." I had to turn away in tears. I could not watch.

What will it take for people to see this "procedure" for what it is? Where are the mothers and why aren't they crying out against this horrid practice? Where are the doctors whose goal must be to preserve all life? We cringe as we hear accounts of ancient civilizations who tossed children into active volcanoes or sacrificed them on the fiery arms of stone idols. Oh, the horror of genocide and gas chambers and medical experimentation that we read about in history books and see on CNN. Yet our crime is worse! We clamor for animal rights and gay rights, and decry everything that smacks of discrimination in one breath; and then, in the name of human rights and choice, we allow hundreds of our children to be chopped to pieces every day for convenience and profit. How can we call ourselves an intelligent, civil society and why is there is no media and public outcry?

There is a murder trial currently taking place which ought to be the story of the century. A doctor and his staff are accused of killing countless infants who survived his abortions, and permanently maiming women in a Philadelphia clinic. Reading accounts of the charges against him, it appears the man is more a butcher than a doctor. Babies born living were beheaded and discarded without a thought. This physician's specialty was late term abortions. He joked about his victims--one whom was so far along (30 weeks)--he quipped, "That one was big enough to walk himself to the bus stop!" And it wasn't only babies that died at his cruel hands, but their mothers as well. Why isn't the rage first and loudest from supporters of "choice?" Surely this is not what Planned Parenthood and its supporters had in mind: A woman who bled to death because of medical negligence and others who were severely damaged and rendered sterile when they said matters such as these are every woman's right? And you must realize that half of all the babies aborted are also female...what about their rights?

Whenever debate about abortion comes up, there are always the exceptions that are showcased: What about rape and incest? What about when the health of the mother is at stake? I daresay these situations comprise a very small percentage of abortions performed every day. The more common scenarios are repeat procedures requested by women who have come to regard abortion as a viable form of birth control. You have to wonder why this is so since we continually inundate our young people with sex education and free contraceptives. Why is pregnancy the common "surprise" that it is? An unplanned pregnancy of any kind should be the exception rather than the hundreds that are terminated every day considering all the information and prophylactics we have at our disposal.

So here's the deal--I am actually pro-choice. Yes, you heard me correctly: I believe a girl or a woman should have a choice. She can choose to abstain from activities known to produce children, or she can take measures to lessen that possibility. Suppose, despite the best the pharmacy has to offer, she still finds herself pregnant? Good news--more choices: Pregnancy is a limited condition lasting only  nine months. To her advantage, there remains but a vestige of the shameful stigma once associated with a woman's unplanned pregnancy. Religious and secular organizations alike stand ready to offer women assistance with health care, emotional and physical support, counseling, even job training both during and after the pregnancy whether she chooses to raise her child or gift it to someone waiting to adopt. A woman has many choices with regard to her body and sexuality. Murder should not be one of those options.

To all the broken babies of the world--I am sorry. I am sorry for a culture that considered you a burden and not a blessing. I'm sorry that the warmth and comfort of the only home you ever knew was not the place of safety it should have been. I'm sorry there were no loving arms and smiles to welcome you into our world. My heart breaks for all you have missed; the middle-of-the-night cuddles, the sweet smell of baby shampoo on your downy heads, the fleecy-softness of baby clothes, the sunshine on your cheeks, the rattling purr of kitties, the first taste of ice cream. I'm sorry millions of us missed out on the chance to be your mommies and daddies. You did nothing wrong. You did not deserve this. Please forgive us. God help us.

Add caption

 This photo was taken in 1999 when a surgeon was operating on an unborn baby named Samuel whose gestational age was 21 weeks. The surgeon was correcting a hole in the baby's spine. You can see the baby reaching out his tiny hand and grasping the surgeon's gloved finger as if to thank him. Not a person?

Teach the Children Well

Human beings live in a collectively progressive society. Each generation builds on the trial and error successes of the generation that preceded it. Thankfully, my generation didn't have to figure out how to harness electricity in order to put computers in every home. Engineers at GM don't have to reinvent the wheel every year before they can bring out the newest automobile models. We are continually building on the ideas and experiences of others. We teach general principles today that were unknown a decade ago. Toddlers who are barely verbal pull Smart Phones out of their mothers' purses and know how to find the game apps they want. Yet we cannot progress without first looking back.

Any reading through the early books of the Old Testament will give you numerous references to the building of altars. Abraham built altars to remember promises, to give thanks, to celebrate victories. So did his sons Issac and Jacob. One of my favorite accounts of an altar assembled is found in the book of Joshua, chapter four. Joshua was the new leader of the Israelites, taking over where Moses had left off. What difficult shoes those were to fill! God wanted to show His people that He was with Joshua just as He was with Moses. So He performed a miracle, allowing them all to cross the Jordan (during its seasonal flood stage) on dry ground. Keep in mind, none of these people were alive when Moses parted the Red Sea so this was a big deal. God didn't want them to forget this event so He gave Joshua instructions on what to do next and Joshua followed them.

"So Joshua called together the 12 men he had appointed from among the people of Israel. There was one man from each tribe. He said to them, “Go back to the middle of the Jordan River. Go to where the ark of the Lord your God is. Each one of you must pick up a stone. You must carry it on your shoulder. There will be as many stones as there are tribes in Israel.“The stones will serve as a reminder to you. In days to come, your children will ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ Tell them that the Lord cut off the flow of water in the Jordan River. Tell them its water stopped flowing when the ark of the covenant of the Lord went across. The stones will always remind the Israelites of what happened there.”

My father was a young boy the day World War 2 ended, and he vividly recalls adults crying and church bells ringing. But when I arrived on the set, less than two decades later, that conflict seemed like ancient history to me. While I was a newborn, our country came dangerously close to nuclear war with Cuba and I have no memory of it. As my own children were growing up in the 80's, America was embroiled in a fearful Cold War with Russia that they know little about today. And my sweet grandchildren were not yet born on the unforgettable 911, and children not much older than they have asked me, "What does that mean? Who attacked our country?" I blink at them in disbelief. We can lose the importance of something so significant in less than ten years--to say nothing of a generation! God knows our propensity to forget. Life-changing events, even the miraculous, get watered down in our memories over time--certainly in the retelling to folks who weren't around to see them firsthand. The building of altars and monuments of remembrance is an old tool to keep alive precious memories. It's why people erect gravestones, build monuments to remember great battles.

Today our country observes Veterans Day, a day of remembrance, where we honor those who have fought for our country and our freedoms. Many will gather at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington Cemetery to remember those who died, with no monument of their own, because their sacrifice matters. People who forget God and forget what others have given for them are people who are not thankful. It is our job as parents, grandparents, and teachers, to make sure our children remember that the world did not begin the day they were born. We need to teach them about the blessings and responsibilities of freedom and the threats of bondage, both spiritual and cultural. God has a remedy for this if we will but diligently employ it:

"Write these commandments that I’ve given you today on your hearts. Get them inside of you and then get them inside your children. Talk about them wherever you are, sitting at home or walking in the street; talk about them from the time you get up in the morning to when you fall into bed at night. Tie them on your hands and foreheads as a reminder; inscribe them on the doorposts of your homes and on your city gates.When God, your God, ushers you into the land he promised through your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to give you, you’re going to walk into large, bustling cities you didn’t build, well-furnished houses you didn’t buy, come upon wells you didn’t dig, vineyards and olive orchards you didn’t plant. When you take it all in and settle down, pleased and content, make sure you don’t forget how you got there—God brought you out of slavery in Egypt." Deut. 6

If we neglect our responsibility to teach these truths to our children, the result will be disastrous. The next generation will forget that everything they have is a gift. They will forget that they stand on the shoulders of others who sacrificed and worked and, in turn, stood on still other shoulders. They will forget that we are a blessed, privileged people who could not begin to earn the bounty we enjoy. Make sure the children know. Teach them to thank God. Teach them to thanks others, beginning with your nearest veterans.  

Let us never forget. Give thanks.

Recycled History?

I find history fascinating. Yet the interpretation of history is hindered by our own brief lifespans. As individuals, it is hard to separate our personal existence and experiences from the distant past, making us very near-sighted at best. One lifetime is not enough to see full cycles complete, to witness a nation rise and fall, to know if the ice caps are actually melting or there is a harmless warming trend going on, like countless others, before man ever thought to record them. We have been brought up to think America is utterly invincible and permanent based on what we perceive as God's blessing and/or our own inherent wisdom and goodness. It is obvious there is an Enemy Without that hates America and would like nothing more than to see its collapse. But the real threat is the Evil Within. It is far more insidious and frightening because we are so familiar with it we don't recognize the threat until it's too late; like a cancer that thrives in a body, eventually crowding out and destroying all healthy function, because its cells don't detect an invader and won't defend itself. The death and decay of a society can take generations--centuries--while its members never see it coming. Increasingly, I feel a heightened concern for the US of A. Ideals we hold dear are not automatic and guaranteed. The following quote is copied from a Facebook status of a close friend. It is a call to consideration, to alertness, to prayer.

In 1887 Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at the University of Edinburgh, had this to say about the fall of the Athenian Republic some 2,000 years prior: "A democracy is always temporary in nature; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government. A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse over loose fiscal policy, (which is) always followed by a Dictatorship.

The average age of the world's greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, these nations always progressed through the following sequence:

-From bondage to spiritual faith;
-From spiritual faith to great courage;
-From courage to liberty;
-From liberty to abundance;
-From abundance to complacency;
-From complacency to apathy;
-From apathy to dependence;
-From dependence back into bondage."

 

Help is needed. And not from any political party.

Unstuffed Crockpot Cabbage

I promised to deliver some easy, versatile meals to help you in your busy life. Here's a favorite my husband asks for weekly which only requires three ingredients for the basic version:

Start with one small cabbage. Wash, core, and cut into wedges. Pile it into a greased crock pot. 

Brown a pound and a half of lean hamburger in a nonstick frying pan over med/hi heat. You may add onions and garlic to this step. Salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the cooked, drained meat over the cabbage chunks in the crock pot.

Open two med/lg jars of spaghetti sauce and pour over the meat. (We prefer Prego to all other brands and nobody pays me to say that.) Cover the crock and cook on low/med all day. That's it! Serve over hot, cooked white or brown rice.The above recipe makes a lot and tastes just like stuffed cabbages without all the work. I can't tell you how it freezes because we can't leave it alone long enough to need to extend its Fridge Life.

Now, for the variations: You might like to toss on some cheese a few minutes before serving. This may pacify children who could be suspicious of the cabbage. Anything would work--mozzerella, parmesan, even cheddar. I like to slice up one or two peppers and add them the last hour. This makes the dish resemble stuffed peppers--again, without the fuss. I would imagine that sliced zucchini or mushrooms would also be fabulous. Last, experiment with what you serve the cabbage over. Pasta, quinoa, and couscous come to mind as possibilities. Enjoy!!!

 

Why I Love Facebook

-Reading my news feed is like reading the local paper trimmed down to those things that interest me the most. When else in life can you "customize your friends?"
-It enhances my connection with my favorite people (those I see all the time and still can't get enough of) with as many details/photos/videos as they'll post.
-It enables me to stay connected with sweet people from my past all over the country and beyond that I would not otherwise have any contact with. It makes my world bigger and richer.
-I can go to weddings, reunions, and other random events and recognize people I haven't seen in years. And, since I know the latest that's happening in their lives, I don't feel awkward approaching them.
-I know my children's friends by face, by "voice," and by interests.
-I am inspired by the creativity and thoughtfulness of others.
-It makes me laugh.
-It makes me cry.
-It is a wonderful ministry/communication tool. How else can you alert so many instantly?
-It is magic. Whenever I say I need something, one of my FB friends almost always has it--whether it be advice or material goods. I love to do the same for my friends. People are so good at sharing when they know there's a need.

People can whine about Facebook all they want, and talk about how it is replacing REAL face-to-face time. I daresay if you are having problems managing your life on Facebook you are having similar issues in real life. My advice? Don't use Facebook as a platform to air every little grievance and negative emotion you feel. Does that attract anyone, EVER? Likewise, who among us likes to watch people duke it out on FB? Not this girl. On the other hand, try not to make your Timeline one year-long, braggy Christmas letter either: No fun for the rest of us living on Messy Planet Earth. Spend less time worrying about your next status update and more time perusing what your friends are doing and encouraging them. That works off the computer, too.   Like

Chicken Salsa

Some of you may be mildly interested to know that I have decided to include some recipes/cooking tips in The View From Here. Not that I think I am the end-all in advice about diet and nutrition, but I have fed a lot of people in the past 33 years and I think that qualifies me. Also, if Prairie Woman, or whatever-her-name-is, can blog about her ranch AND her cooking, surely I can.

I will start with a loose recipe that I posted on Facebook a couple weeks ago. I say LOOSE recipe because that pretty much defines how I cook--loosely, usually with few or no recipes and with simple things that are hanging around my fridge/pantry. As a mother of five and grandmother of seven, I know that feeding people can be a daunting affair and not all of us can get snooty about gourmet food when the children are little. All day long young mommies wipe noses, trip over toys, soothe owies, and referee sibling conflict. Suddenly, it is five o'clock. They hear the husband's car in the driveway and think, "Shoot! I forgot about dinner!" And while cereal and frozen pizza certainly have a place in anyone's menu rotation, it should not constitute the norm or it loses it's specialness. Food is my Love Language and nothing says, "I LOVE YOU," like an intentional, hot meal set on the table at the end of a long day. So, here is the first of many? installments and stay tuned for future food blogs:

CHICKEN SALSA
-3 large whole skinless/boneless chicken breasts
-1 large jar of salsa

Place chicken, frozen or thawed, into a crock pot. You can use more chicken or less depending on how much you have or how many you're feeding. Dump salsa onto chicken. You can use as much salsa, and whatever potency, as you like. (The beauty of this recipe is--it won't MATTER!) Cover and slow cook for a few hours. Okay, all day, probably.  I always start the dial on high to get things going and then reduce to low when I leave the house. And then I forget about dinner until I walk in the back door after work, inhale deeply and query, "Who has been cooking for me?!!!"*

At this juncture, I give the chicken a stir--somethings chunking or shredding it with a fork. The dish is now ready to eat--as is--over rice or in buns or tortillas. HOWEVER don't miss the charm of the myriad variations on this theme. An hour before you want to serve it, add sliced veggies (peppers, onions, zucchini) and/or drained beans/corn. The plain or fancy version can be piled onto fresh greens for a salad, tortillas for chicken tacos/burritos, or onto chips topped with shredded cheese for macho nachos. If you add chicken broth (water and dissolved boullion) you can call it Soup and serve with tortilla chips on the side. For an extra creamy kick, add cream cheese or sour cream to the chicken before you do any of the above. Finish with a garnish of cilantro, black olives, or chopped fresh tomatoes if you want to get really fancy. You might even feel motivated to light some candles and post a picture of your food to FB and I would applaud you as the Super Mom you, indeed, are.

Helpful Side Note: If you make enough of this loveliness, you will have enough for more than one meal/variation and it is seriously good enough, and versatile enough, to make once a week.

*Warning: If you are home all day with small children, this will make their saliva glands run continually and they will be all primed for supper long before the food is ready, probably. You might need to go to the park after naps to kill time and keep them away from the table.

Choose Joy

I was sitting in the waiting room of our local clinic recently, biding time until I was called in for an immunization. It was the middle of a hot summer afternoon and fairly quiet except for a handful of folks in the chairs around me. A nurse came out from behind the door to the exam rooms and called a name from the clipboard she was holding. An elderly woman rose stiffly from her chair and used a walker to hobble along behind the nurse to be admitted into a room. Her snowy-haired husband glanced up as she left and then returned his gaze to the television that was rambling to no one in particular. From across the room, another woman recognized the man and came over to sit next to him to chat. They seemed like little more than vague acquaintances, to my eavesdropping ear, but I was pleased they'd be providing me with entertainment while I waited my turn.

"What did your wife do to her leg?" the woman asked the man. 

He shifted in his seat and slapped his cap against his own leg. "Aw, she was painting some trim up in the dining room and stepped off the ladder wrong."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," the woman replied, tsk-tsk-ing her disapproval over such atrocities of fate. She explained that she was at the clinic waiting for her husband who had macular degeneration. "He can't see a thing, you know. He used to get out in his pickup every day and drive down for coffee, get the mail. Now I have to drive him everywhere--do everything for him. He just sits in his chair and listens to the TV he can't see. Life is no fun."

The man nodded. "Yep. It seems like there's more sick people now than there's ever been."

I lifted my eyes from the magazine I wasn't reading to see both of them staring, not at each other, but off at distant corners of the ceiling. The old man rubbed a gnarled hand over the stubble on his face. With lowered eyes he muttered,"There's nothing good any more."

The smiling nurse called my name from the doorway and I rose to follow her, the old man's words echoing in my head as I left.

'Nothing good anymore...nothing good? Nothing? What a tragic summary at the end of a long life! His dismal commentary reminded me of Solomon, the wisest man that ever lived, who declared at the close of his days, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity." Someone who had experienced the richest of earthly blessings, endowed with all the wisdom man could attain, was basically saying the same thing, "There's nothing good, nothing worthwhile. Everything in this life is like chasing the wind."                                                                       

I am part of a mom's group this fall called Exhale. We have committed to focus on the following Bible passage as our theme:
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Philippians 4:4-8

Verse four caught my attention lately as it's something I've been working on in my own life:"Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say REJOICE." Paul is not making a plea for positive thinking, cute yellow smiley-faces, or dopey songs--"Don't Worry/Be Happy." When I think of the word "happy" I think of the similar word "happen." I happen to be happy because of good things that have happened. One dictionary definition of "happy" is: Feeling satisfied that something is right or has been done right. We must take note that when Paul wrote this letter to the believers at Philippi he was a prisoner awaiting trial for his life. So when he tells them, "REJOICE," he is not saying, "Have a good feeling about how great everything is in your life right now."

It is good for us to distinguish between joy and happiness. Paul is talking about rejoicing that is not dependent on temporary current conditions. Anybody can feel happy when the bills are paid, the kids are healthy, and the sun is shining. He's directing us toward something that runs far deeper in our souls--a knowing that, while my circumstances will and certainly do change, God will never change. God has promised his grace is always sufficient for whatever trials I face. His blood will cover any stain from my past, his salvation is certain, his righteousness is forever. If every earthly well of good things in my life would shrivel up, still he remains The Constant Font of Every Blessing.

Why is it important to understand and express joy? How many of you, like me, feel weary and need more stamina in your daily lives? Do you find there is too much day and too little time, too many people with too many demands? What if someone told us the secret to living the abundant life that Jesus promised us? The Bible does that! It says that the joy of the Lord is our strength. There is nothing more draining than sitting around thinking about how awful everything is. It doesn't matter if we consider ourselves by nature optimists, pessimists, or realists. The fact is: We may be accurate in our assessments of what is happening around us. Things may not have been done right. They may not currently be right. The natural, human inclination is to see any glass as half full. (And probably filled with something we don't even like to drink: Prune juice, maybe. Or milk of magnesia. Or a barium milkshake.) But rehearsing what's wrong over and over in our heads does not minimize problems. It makes them grow. Joy must be intentional because it most certainly will never be accidental. We must purpose in our hearts that we are going to pursue joy and strength will be added to our lives.

Joy isn't a solo act. Joy and Thankfulness are inseparable twins. They go everywhere together. You show me a thankful person and I'll show you someone who is filled with joy. Start counting your blessings. Grit your teeth if you must. Do it. Start small, look within: Say, "I am thankful I have breath in my lungs today. I'm thankful my heart is beating." Then look around: Are you thankful your children have energy to spare and that's why there are blanket tents all over the living room? Are you thankful you have plenty to eat and that's why there are stacks of dirty dishes cascading in your sink? Are you thankful you have work, shelter, people who love you?

Avoid comparison: It is a killjoy. It literally kills JOY. We need to stop looking at our friends and family as competition. Nobody wins a prize if they wear their pre-pregnancy jeans home from the hospital. The neighbor isn't a better person because he drives a nicer car. Your sister's baby is not smarter because he crawled before yours did. If Facebook makes you crazy, close your account. If certain people continually make you feel bad about yourself, find new friends who will help you focus on things that really matter. Don't fall into the trap of looking at what others are doing. You work on you.

Not long ago I posted a Facebook status that said, "Dawn...is choosing joy." A young friend of mine Liked my status and that evening informed her husband, "I'm choosing joy."

"You can DO that?!" he asked.

She responded, "If I can choose to be crabby, I can sure as heck can choose JOY!"

Am I saying that we should all skip around in flower beds, grinning, and singing in a high falsetto because everything is just so dang wonderful? What about when everything is not coming up roses? What if we can't find the silver lining in the clouds and everything in life seems to be swirling down the toilet? Choosing joy is never more important than when hardship comes. James 1:2-4 tells us:"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." Jesus guaranteed us that in this life, we will have trouble. (How come nobody writes songs about that precious promise or displays it on signs outside of churches?) My paraphrase of that passage in James is this: "Tests build us up and make our faith TOUGH. This causes us to GROW UP in God and become useful for something in his kingdom." God didn't call us to stay children toddling around the church nursery begging for animal crackers. Sometimes, even as adults, we can be so delicate. When the least challenge comes along our knees buckle and we fall to the floor weeping, "Why me, Lord?" as if we are some unique person on the planet that should be singled out for special exemption from difficulty. God is calling us to maturity, he is calling us to bear fruit. So when trials of all kinds come--EXPECTED and NECESSARY--choose JOY as your response.

I enjoyed watching the Olympic games this past summer. I am amazed by the athletes' commitment to train for years for one moment. Theirs is an indisputably admirable endeavor. Yet, 1 Timothy 4:8 tells us: "Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come." Referring back to the passage from Philippians I see a challenge--a commitment to TRAINING. I need to rewire the way I think about daily life in general and trials in particular and it's going to take work. I'm asking God to help me condition my mind to find Him in every circumstance. I'm making the pursuit of JOY my goal, a discipline I exercise every day. Having begun this race of life, I want to run with endurance (strength) and finish well. I don't want to park myself on the sidelines, grumbling and complaining that nothing in life is any good. I'm choosing JOY. And I'm cheering for you to run with me.