It’s one of those sayings, several lines actually, that you find being emailed hither and yon and wondering where they came from. Some say it is from an Irish Proverb and others from a song by Paradise Awaits. Sing like no one’s listening. Dance like no one is watching. So, I do not have the definitive on where the words came from, but I love the sentiment and lesson behind them.

Yet, I find them difficult sentiments to live by. I am by nature extremely self-conscious. I always wonder — no worry — what everyone is thinking.

I was always part of a pair growing up and the part of the pair that came up lacking. My twin was better at piano than I was. We both took violin. She was always a chair or so ahead of me. When we did the plays in junior high, she got the bigger parts. Our sophomore year we both ended up in the school choir. Music was required that year. Somehow, we ended up seated several seats apart. Though no one had ever encouraged me in singing, no one had ever said I was awful either. As that year wrapped up, I started to dream of trying out for the special junior-senior group. I forget the name but they sang and danced. Maybe my interest was spurred on by the fact that my sister had no interest at all in trying out.

I went to the preps and I actually managed the try outs. Janel was a junior but sat next to me in the main choir. She was in both choirs and heard me audition. As I was walking out, she said to me, “Why don’t you ever sing that loud in choir?” Somehow, I had managed some volume during the audition.

I didn’t make it. As I probably too often do, I assumed that meant my singing was awful. For the most part, I have probably continued on as I did during choir — kept my singing under the radar so to speak.

Mercy Me has an older song out called If I Could Only Imagine. Like that saying, it captures part of me because it asks the question if he were face to face with Jesus, “Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still?” Again, I cannot imagine being so in awe that I would let others see my awkward steps.

But then that is the point isn’t it? What would it be like to be so moved by God’s glory that we would worship uninhibited, that the awareness of everyone around us might fall away?

Today during church was sang All in All. It is an older song that I know from my InterVarsity days. When we sang in InterVarsity, we broke into men and women or split the room in half. After singing in it through altogether, one group would take part and the other the second part and sing it simultaneously. I loved the way the verses mixed.

But today we were just singing it together as one. After the first time through, I couldn’t resist adding the opposite part. So, as everyone else sang the verse, I continued on with “Jesus, lamb of God, holy is your name….”

To my surprise I sang it loud enough that I could hear myself. I was one voice and I don’t know that anyone else heard. Maybe they did. I was singing more loudly than usual. But for once, I didn’t worry what others thought or if I was in tune. I simply lifted that up to Jesus.

Perhaps one day I’ll dance as well . . . .

“I want . . . !” Go through any retail store and you will hear this cry from a toddler and subtler versions from older children and teens. If we are honest, we recognize the same cry in our heart. It can be about things. I want what so and so has — house, husband, kids, car . . . . Maybe it is that I want to look like _________ (fill in the most beautiful person you know). Maybe it is the intangible things like respect and honor or position.

When we get down to it and are truly honest with ourselves, there thousands of “I want . . .” statements fueling our hearts and minds. Sometimes, those “I want” statements turn into “I deserve” statements. We are mortally offended that God or someone else hasn’t provided what is so deserved.

I couldn’t quite figure it out. But a couple I know at church has an unusual arrangement. They are very happily married but she kept her own name when they married. No, it’s not even hyphenated. When both of their children were born, they took her name. Other things in their home are off from what one would typically anticipate. He does most of the cooking and grocery shopping. After knowing them for a few months I was really curious. I started asking questions.

The last is the easiest to explain. He enjoys cooking. His schedule also allows him to get home before she does.

Why didn’t she take his last name? She is Latina. If she had taken his last name, her name would not have reflected that piece of her identity at all.

But what about the kids? My friend told me that it was his idea that the kids take her name. Most fathers would want their kids to have their last name. It’s not that he didn’t want that. However, he looked at the greater scheme. If the kids took his last name, they might be removed from a big piece of their cultural heritage on their mother’s side. He opted out of any desire to have the kids have his name so that their last name could reflect their mother’s Latina heritage. Given that both children are very blond, light eyed, and fair skinned, without knowing their name and their fluency in Spanish, one would never guess their heritage.

This couple amazes me.

As I’ve thought about it, I’ve been reminded of Jesus. In Isaiah 53:2-4 says:

He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.

I find that passage hard to wrap my Sunday school soaked picture soaked brain around. The pictures I always see portray an attractive man in his thirties with people thronging to him. He’ll carry a lamb or have a smiling child balanced on a knee. But it says, “nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” We considered him stricken by God.

If I had my choice as God as what form in which to come, I think it would have been with beauty. Perhaps it is good that I’m not God. Even having that thought might mean that my reason for coming was bent toward worship at that moment rather than rescue of lost souls.

In those times even the death he died was considered cursed by God. Deuteronomy 21:23 says this: “you must not leave his body on the tree overnight. Be sure to bury him that same day, because anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse.” I know the theology that Jesus had to suffer and die for our sins. But I am struck that the death he died was actually considered a cursed by God death.

Philippians 2 encourages us that our attitude should be the same of Jesus.

Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.

Grasping. Children are always grasping and reaching for something. Part of it is about growing and learning. I know that. But when the other toddler has a toy you’ve been ignoring and you suddenly want it — bang them on the head and take it! As we grow, we learn to temper or hide that, but I think that I often have a grasping heart. I’m always grasping for what I do not have. I want to be just like so and so and have what they have. Not so with Jesus. Even though he was rightfully and fully God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped . . . . Because He did not have a grasping heart, He looked to our interests and died on the cross.

What a blessed hope there is in a God who would make himself nothing to rescue the lost. I pray that I would understand what it means to have a humble, hopeful heart rather than a grasping one.

I want to tell you about 2 little girls. They live hundreds of miles from me and each other. Yet, at this point our lives are intertwined.

The second little girl is Kayirngwa. (If any of you can help me on how to pronounce that, let me know. I think of her as Kay.) She lives in Rwanda, a country in Africa. She likes jumping rope, running, and playing group games. Rwanda is an HIV/AIDS affected area.

As you probably guessed, I sponsor both of them through Compassion International. Sometimes it is really tight to try and send, but I know they are counting on the money I send.

How did I end up with two so different countries? Both times I heard a broadcast about Compassion. One specifically mentioned Delia by name. It was one of those heart tug things. With Kay, I heard about a plug for Compassion again. Something tugged on my heart again. This time I asked about Rwanda. It was through a local organization and the volunteer said, “Rah – what?” They weren’t sure if they had Compassion there but they would check.

I read about Rwanda probably 15 years ago or so when I read an IVP book called, The Good News About Injustice. It deals with the attempted genocide in Rwanda. The Hutu and the Tutsi are actually very close genetically. I don’t remember the exact percent of ethnic similarity but I believe it was less than 1% difference. But throughout the years there has been great acrimony between them — enough to cause mass slaughter of men, women, and children. Something about that book nestled in my heart and God nudged it that day.

I try to write to them once a month. Sometimes I manage it, sometimes I don’t. I know that children like to hear about other children, so they often get tales of my adventures with the kids I know here as well as pictures of my cats.

I love getting letters back from them. Both, at one time or another, have expressed some confusion that I live alone. They want to know where my family is. How do you explain singleness to a child? Or how do you explain that family doesn’t live close as they do for them? At one point or another, they have given me their advice. Kay thinks I need to join the choir at church. Delia thinks I should play some games with people. Both are great suggestions, but my church doesn’t have a choir and I’m not sure what games Delia thinks I should play. Perhaps, she is thinking of sports.

Along with pictures, I’ve sent along blank pieces of colored paper or stickers. I love giving stickers to the children an Barnes and Noble. They have stopped quite a few tears. I cannot imagine how children who are poverty stricken might enjoy those little things.

With my friend Jill having just been on a Compassion trip, they have been on my mind more. I wonder what it would be like to visit them. Though, after reading Jill’s blog, I know I cannot imagine the poverty they must live in.

Even in their pictures, I am struck that neither one is smiling. I wish I had a snapshot of smiles. But, it is perhaps, a reflection of the harshness of life they live. That, and I’m sure cameras and pictures are a novelty and maybe meant a solemn occasion.

At any rate, I pray for them and each month manage to save up the money to send. More than anything, I pray that they know the living hope that is Jesus.

Amy

One of the gifts I’ve received over the last year is being in Deb and Joe’s small group. I’ve learned quite a bit from interacting with them. Last night after a meeting, they invited me to go out to dinner with them. It is a Mexican place that I had only been to once but had enjoyed. As part of the kid’s meal, their children (Raquel who is 5 and Lucas who is 3) received a tortilla wrapped up like a cone with ice cream in it. (I have no clue what the technical name for it is.)

As they were eating, Raquel’s fell to the floor. Debbie told her it “stayed there.” Raquel burst into huge sobs. Not wanting to see his sister so upset, Lucas dove under the table to grab the cone and present it to his sister. As Debbie said, “What are you going to do with such a kind response?” The only thing we decided was that Raquel would at least be building antibodies and the 10 second rule has to apply in restaurants as well, right?

Apparently this is characteristic of Lucas with his big sister. Deb said that if they are disciplining Raquel, even just speaking firmly, Lucas makes the demand for them to stop because they are upsetting her. At 3, Lucas has become a knight rushing to the rescue.

I love the responsiveness of his heart. I pray that he never loses that responsiveness because it is so like God’s heart. When we cry out, God responds. Psalm 34:17-18 says

The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

In Psalm 55:16-18 the psalmist writes:

But I call to God, and the LORD saves me. Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice. He ransoms me unharmed from the battle waged against me, even though many oppose me.

Both of these psalms point to the responsiveness of God to the plight of His people. Granted, we may not always get what we want the way we expect it. However, we can have hope because our knight, our heavenly Father, is always listening and always responding. He is ever present and ever attentive to His children.

Perhaps it is my imagination, but I think I hear God calling in delight, “No take backs!” The thought both makes me smile and tremble a bit. What is it that I am signing up for?

After a cold, wet, gray, dreary Sunday, the clear skies and warm weather were extremely welcome on Monday. For the past 6 months, I’ve only take a half hour lunch by choice. My schedule is shifting some and I’ll now be taking a normal hour for lunch. Knowing I would have the whole hour, raised the question for me on Monday as to what to do with that time. I can easily eat in 15 minutes and have typically read during the other 15 minutes. Math has never been my strong suit but even I can figure that left 30 minutes.

I’ve lost 17lbs since the first of the year and plateaued there. With the turn in the weather, I decided that extra 30 minutes would be ideal for walking. So, I ate my sandwich and apple while I did 3 laps of an 8 block downtown perimeter in those 30 minutes. (How many city blocks in a mile?)


Since I had already eaten, I considered another lap but opted for a spot on a bench in sun instead. I needed to prepare for Yes to God Tuesdays at Lelia’s. We are on the final chapter of Lysa’s book, What Happens When Women Say Yes to God.

It was a challenging chapter and a call to decision. I read it and closed the book and said, “Okay, God here we go. I don’t know what will happen, but ‘Yes.’”

Perhaps, God was afraid I would take it back but I am not at all use to immediate-response-answers to my prayers. I still had 15 minutes and I pulled out my phone to make a quick call., but before I could dial I heard “Do you have any change for a homeless vet?”

Generally, I do not respond well to these requests. Chalk it up to a number of years in social service and dealing with some who just don’t seem to want to work. Oh, there were always a myriad of reasons but I often found gaps. They couldn’t afford the bus token to get to parenting classes necessary for getting their kids back but I found myself behind them in line at the grocery store while they were buying a six pack. I don’t want to be unfair. There are people who are just down on their luck. But after a bit, social service can make you tend towards cynicism.

Generally, my response is to avoid eye contact and hurry on. On Monday, both those rules got broken. I met his eyes immediately and he held my gaze. It was as if God changed the words “Do you have any change?” to “Are you serious about change?”

Surprisingly, I dug into my purse to find I had $8.00 with me. My gut reaction was to hand him $3.00 and keep the $5.00 bill. And God whispered, “Now, reverse the math.” So my I-so-hate-being-conned-self handed him the five. It all took all of 60 seconds. He was rushing on, “I can show you ID so you know I’m a vet.” I wanted to say, “Not necessary. Jesus gave the ID for you.”

It would have been great if I had said that but I wasn’t that bold. However, I did something else unprecedented for me in these situations. I gathered my coat and book in my lap and made room on the bench. “You can sit down if you would like.”

For ten minutes, I lent him an ear. He told me that it’s cold at night and it’s horrible when it rains. He said that he hates asking for money and that he can’t find a job. He said he gets lonely and there is no one to talk to. He read the title of the book, What Happens When Women Say Yes To God, and asked, “Do you believe that God stuff?”

My lunch was over, but I could say, “Yes, I really do.”

Did I get conned? Perhaps. Maybe I’ll never know for sure. But, it was worth $5.00 to hear God delightedly exclaiming, “No take-backs. I think we shall begin now.” And so we begin the next leg of the journey with some change over lunch.

 

Elena and Grace with finished product out front. Last year they spilled over the pot. I hope they do this year as well.




We did white and orange daisies in the back. But I think the two prettiest flowers are the ones in pink! I love this picture of them.

And because it wouldn’t be time at Amy’s without popsicles and the park, we headed down to the neighborhood park. This is Grace on top of some of the equipment. I’ve loved listening to her pray over the last year and a half.

Here is Elena, digging her way to China. Actually, with her heart for God, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she ends up as missionary somewhere . . . .

Though it hurts to say “Goodbye,” I wouldn’t have traded the bit of sunshine they’ve been in my life for anything.

And with believers, it never is totally a goodbye but more of a “See you later!”



Please pray for their new adventure — wherever it leads.

As you all probably know by now, I adore my talented cats. (For talent proof click here.) Teaching Mali (though today I did get Katy to do “UP” three times), has largely been tied to the idea of shaping and rewards or positive reinforcement.

It would be so much simpler if there was always a cause and effect. But over the years I’ve simply found that there isn’t always one.

I had a good day yesterday. I slept in and puttered around the house and on the computer. In the evening, I worked at the bookstore. It made for a late night since on Saturdays we are open until 11:00PM and we had been slammed most of the evening. It meant that recovery took us a solid 45 minutes. It probably should have been longer, but the manager was shooing us out the door. It made for a late night but it was still a good day.

I got up about 8 this morning and made it to 9:00 KidStuf. But somewhere in there anxiety inexplicably wormed its way in. There was nothing that I could put my finger on to be anxious about. I don’t think that “being anxious about nothing” in this context was what Paul meant when he wrote in Philippians 4:6, “Do not be anxious about nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

I had a couple reactions to the sudden onslaught. My first thought was to flee. Like some of the animals I love — horses and cats — I am a flight animal by nature. God whispered in my ear, “Start down that road and it will be hard to turn back. It will become a habit quickly,” I stayed and wandered restlessly through the entire break between services.

The anxiety did not lessen second service. Rather, I turned into a puddle and cried during each worship song. Again, there was the feeling of needing to flee. But I stayed.

Well, I stayed exactly until church was over. There was no one on my right. And the person on my left was immediately engaged in conversation. I grabbed my stuff and sprinted to the door.

But the anxiety really had little, I think, to do with church. I got home and still felt anxious.

Anxiety is a hard thing to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is much more than butterflies in the tummy. Rather, it is like a huge spring in you body being tightened and twisted until it might burst.

Sometimes there isn’t much energy associated with it — just a restlessness. But today, there was some energy behind mine. I made a choice. My first option was to hole up in my bed and pull the covers up. My second choice was to do something. I opted for the second.

I hate yard work. My dad always did all of the outside jobs. It was his domain. Consequently, I didn’t learn how to mow the grass until last year. Thankfully, a friend did it for me a few times and then taught me how.

So, I checked the oil and added gas and pulled and pulled and pulled. About the 10th pull (right before I was ready to give up in despair), it started and I began the chore. As I came around the front, I realized that my closest neighbor (out townhouse are adjoined and she is also single) needed her yard done as well. So, when I came to the end of my lawn I kept going. On the swing back, I realized that my other neighbor (a single mom with two girls) needed her yard done as well. I hesitated a moment and then crossed into her yard. I did the 3 yards in long sweeps and hoped my neighbor’s neighbors weren’t watching and expecting me to keep going and going and going!

Proverbs 12:25 says, “An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up.” I guess I adapted to “An anxious heart weighs her down, but doing a kind deed cheers her up.”

We now probably have three of the worst cut lawns (given my inexperience) in the neighborhood, but they are cut! Though, not having a weed eater or trimmer or whatever it is I would need, I’m not sure how to get right along the fence . . . .

So, the lawns are cut and while there is still a hint of anxiety, it’s not nearly as strong as it was earlier. I feel as if I chose hope when in the past I would have chosen retreat.

You’ve heard me talk alot about Mali’s antics and also her amazing ability to learn. (This is largely dependent on there being a food reward.) Finally, some evidence of her hula hoop abilities in still. Click here for a short video of all her tricks, but we are still trying to learn new things!

No, it isn’t that I have too much time on my hands! I saw a book at the bookstore and paged through it. I thought I would try it. The hula hoop was my idea. Cats have short attention spans, so we’ve only worked on it a few minutes each day. I enjoy the interaction with her on this level.

Katy is just as smart — maybe even smarter. She knows she gets treats without having to work for them. Though I did teach her to ask for them!

So for everyone who has said to me, “You can’t teach a cat tricks,” here is my proof: