I Can't Save The World

I'll admit, it bothers me--that I can't save the world.  However, neither can you.  It's a fact, plain and simple.  And, as several of my friends and I sat around the dinner table last night discussing a book we'd all been asked to read, we came to that realization.  No, we can't save the world, and it breaks our hearts.  I could hear it in their voices, I could see the anguish in their faces and I could read it in their body language, that pain of not being able to do everything for everyone.  It is heart breaking to read a book about poverty in our world.  Most of us have no clue what it is like for children (and adults) living in 3rd world countries.  Some of us have volunteered to travel and work amongst them, but it is short lived for we get to return to our warm cozy homes and our regular lives when our mission is over.  And we have a choice, they don't.

I had a much different blog post running through my head this morning.  However, after spending the day praying over what exactly to write about, something else came to mind.  I'm a little shocked actually.  You see, I believe that God asked me a question.  It went something like this.  Do you really think I need you to fix the world's problems?  I kind of just sat there at first, not really understanding what God was getting at.  And then it hit me.  I was taking on the burdens of this world that belong to Him and only Him.  He is in complete control of each and every individual in this entire world.  It's a hard concept for me to grasp.  It's a big world.  And it's full of poverty, problems, sickness, abuse, divorce, and a multitude of various other issues.  It's just more than my brain can take in.

And, I think that is what He wanted me to realize.  It's His world and His problems.  And He is big enough to handle things without any help from me.  And yet He uses me.  He loves to use me, to teach me, so show me how He does it, how He takes care of things, and how sometimes I am just supposed to sit back and watch.  Watch the miraculous workings of God.  I watch in amazement how He lays a certain person on my heart.  Whether it be a beggar or a neighbor--He gives me the go ahead, the nod, the desire to help.  He provides the funds, the means, the wherewithal--it's all Him, and none of me.  I don't need to feel one bit guilty, this is God's world and He can do with it what He wants.  I don't have to be afraid because I serve a fearless God.  And I don't have to feel obligated to serve because I feel privileged to serve.  I feel honored to serve.

You see, if I did it, if I helped the poor, sent all my money overseas, volunteered all my time, then I would be the one taking all the credit.  I would be the one worrying about everything being done just right.  Am I doing enough, am I giving enough, am I?  I guess what I'm saying is--I want to take the I out of this equation.  This has to be a God thing.  Not a me thing.  There is no way on this earth that I as one person can meet the needs of millions of people.  However, I know someone who can.  And, I know someone who whispers my name, and says to me--can you do this for me today?  Give this, go there, listen here.

Yes, there is a Hole in my Gospel.  I view things through the eyes of a mere mortal, not through the eyes of God.  I want that to change.  I want Him to be the center of my world.  And then, as He shows me where to go, what to do, who to help--that's when I'll be obedient to Him and give Him all I've got. I'll go, I'll do, I'll run to please the one true God.

So, simply put, I can't save the world.  However, He can and He will and He'll use me and you to help Him do it.  He doesn't need us--He's God.  But, I'm His instrument--are you?

This is what I have been praying about today.  I wondered about a lot of things--why I was born in this wonderful country, during this time of invention and technology--I wondered why I am this color, this gender, I wondered so many things--why, why me?  I had to pray, and pray hard.  I needed to know--what is it that you oh God want me to do?  As your servant, who doesn't want to ever be selfish, what do you want to me to do?  

And then I heard it, the answer.  In that small still voice of His, I heard it.  He said to me--be available, give it all, do it all, be all to them, act on my behalf, be there, go there, have my heart.

So, here I am oh God, your daughter, your servant, use me any way you want.  Here I am.

Thanksgiving Eve

It is quiet here--at my daughter's house.  Thankfully she has a very large home.  We are all tucked into our prospective bedrooms, hopefully sleeping, or at least trying to.  Me?  Well, I don't sleep very much.  Maybe 6 hours per night.  So I am up late on my laptop, as usual, my husband blissfully snoring beside me, not a care in the world.  It is Thanksgiving Eve.  And all through the house...well, you get the idea.

We are a pretty big group this year.  There are 8 adults, which include my husband and me, my daughter and her husband, and my 2 sons and their wives.  There are 5 children and 4 dogs and 2 cats.  We are a house full--literally, a very full house.  We've traveled from afar.  However, it is well worth it.  To be with family during the holidays is one of the most important things in life to me.  I love being with my kids and my grandkids.  If I could change just one little thing though it would be to have my parents join in the fun.  I miss them, especially during the holidays.

I am looking forward to tomorrow--Thanksgiving day.  I love getting up early and helping out in any way possible.  From stuffing the bird to making side dishes, to helping with the grandkids, to keeping the guys from stealing food and generally just having a great time together.  There will be story telling, jokes told, games played and games watched.  There will be heavenly smells coming from the kitchen, and much laughter coming from the children.  There will be kids chasing dogs and dogs chasing cats and moms chasing kids.  And there I will be--standing in the midst, watching with a full heart.  I love my family.

So tonight, while it is quiet, while I can think--I am writing.  I know it'll be a few days before I am able to quietly sit again, so I am taking advantage of this time.  Because tomorrow, well, I don't want to miss a minute of tomorrow.  I need every minute of every hour focused on them--my family.  I want to watch everything, from the laughter to the sharing, I want to remember it all.  Kind of like a picture I guess but in my mind.  A memory of tomorrow.

Afterward, when our bellies are full, when the guys are snoozing on the sofa when the children are watching TV, I will try hard to remember everything.  It will no longer be Thanksgiving, it will be over, and we will be getting ready for the next season.  And that's Ok, as long as I have right now.  Alone with my thoughts on this holiday with all of them--my family.

That's what I am most thankful for in my life.  My family.  I love them more that I can ever express in words, but I sure do try, don't I?  I try hard to share my feelings.  However, most times the words don't do justice to the emotions that well up inside of my heart.  My thankful heart, for my wonderful family.

Confession Time

It's almost Thanksgiving.  And yes, don't worry, I am one thankful woman.  I have much to be grateful for.  I update my Facebook status each day with a "today I am thankful for" statement.  And while they are all truthful, there's some pain in my heart.  Just a little bit.  Let me explain.

We will not be home this year for either of the holidays.  Neither my children nor my grandchildren will  be coming to grandma's house.  And I'm mad.  Or sad.  Or disappointed.  Or something.  I haven't decided yet.  Maybe because I waffle between being mad to feeling sorry for myself on pretty much a 10 minute rotation.  My emotions are winning.  They are getting the best of me.  Yes, they are winning.

I realize that I need to pray.  But, honestly, I want to sulk a little first.  Lick my wounds. You see, I will be seeing my grandchildren this Thanksgiving--all of them.  So why am I not happy?  I am.  I am happy.  I am very excited about seeing them.  I can hardly wait.  However.  Yes, I said however.  Why are they not coming to grandma's house?  I am bummed out about this one question.  Silly, I know.

Also, they are not coming for Christmas.  I have to go to them.  They will not see grandma's Christmas decorations, many of which were bought expressly with them in mind.  Like the little box with the train that plays a little song.  Or the German spinning candles or the lighted village.  Nope, none of it is coming out this year.  So, in order to feel as though I have some control over the situation--I am refusing to put up any Christmas decorations that would remind me of them.  Nope.  My house will be just plain boring this year.  Maybe a tree.  Maybe.  But, that's it.

And, since they are not coming to grandma's house for Thanksgiving--I thought, why not decorate for Christmas before we even leave to go to their house for Thanksgiving.  Why not--no one will see it anyway!  Who cares!  It really does not even matter to me.  Not one little bit.

My husband though has seen right through this thin veneer of mine.  He has brought up the decorations from the basement, has set up 2 huge trees, has decorated them all the while playing Christmas music full blast.  Now I ask you--how does one stay in a bad sulky mood with Christmas music playing?  He has made it difficult.  I'll admit to that.  But, I'm trying, I'm trying hard to keep that frown on my face.

However,  once again he has made things right for me.  He has dug below the surface of my heart to find out what really is bothering me about this holiday season.  He has spent time with me, trying hard to make me happy, and to see the positive.  And while we have been talking he has made my house cheery and bright.  Trees are up, candles are lit, music is playing, and he keeps singing to me.  My house, whether I wanted it to be or not, is now ready for the Christmas season.  It looks downright festive! We will leave to celebrate Thanksgiving with our family and when we return home, all will be well within the walls of this little house of ours.  It will be Christmas time, and we will be grateful and happy and thankful and feel tremendously blessed.

Do you want to know what I'm really thankful for this year?  He's sitting here right next to me.  Him on his laptop, me on mine.  He doesn't like for us to be in different rooms.  The fire is going, music is softly playing and as I type, tears are rolling down my cheeks.  Thank you God for my husband--you knew just what I needed in this sweet little life of mine.  A gift so great, so fantastic, so completely wonderful--a true man of God in every way, who loves me more than I will ever deserve.
Thank you Father.  And Happy Thanksgiving everyone, wherever you are this year.  May God richly bless you.

The Least of These

Have you ever looked at a small child passing you by and wondered about them?  Who they were, where they lived?  Are they happy, fed, warm and clothed?

How about the homeless man on the corner?  The one who wreaks of alcohol, or maybe is even missing a limb or two from a wartime injury?

And what about the single mom?  You know the one--she has way too many children and doesn't keep them very clean.  What about her?

I think about these people all the time.  Our pastor even preached about them this past Sunday.  He taught on Matthew 25.  It's one of my top favorite passages in the Bible.  Why?  Well, because I can relate to a few of the scenarios mentioned in that passage.  It was a difficult time of life for me.  I was just old enough to be embarrassed, but too young to understand what exactly was going on.  And without saying too much, without sharing things about my childhood that my parents might not appreciate me sharing--I'll just talk about how I felt, because I was one of those--the least of these.

I was afraid.  I was little--under 8 years of age.  I was hungry.  Many nights.  Right now I am wondering how much to share, what do I say exactly.  My father had lost his job, we had very little food, so, we ate very little.  My stomach would growl after I was tucked into bed.  There wasn't much left in the cupboards.  So I didn't complain.  My parents were new Christians.  We prayed.  We prayed a lot.  We needed God to meet our needs.  We needed food.  Every morning my mom would make us oatmeal and for lunch she would pack us up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with some carrot sticks.  And for dinner we'd have spaghetti.  This went on for a year or more.  I know this is going to sound weird, but to this day, I cannot eat those foods.  I can feel myself begin to gag, and it brings back some painful memories, so I avoid them.

I was also cold.  Thankfully we lived in California, but believe me it still would get down into the 30's at night in the winter.  One year the electric company had cut off our heat, so we all huddled together in our tiny little living room in front of the fireplace, trying to keep warm.  No electricity meant no lights, so my father would fire up the camping lantern--that thing scared me.  We were told not to get near it, because if we knocked it over it could start a fire.  I was convinced that someone was going to do just that and I worried enough for our entire family.  I had nightmares about our house catching fire for years after that.

And water?  Well, that was turned off too.  No money to pay the bills.  Our kind neighbor next door ran her garden hose through our kitchen window so that we could have running water.  I was 6 years old that year, and was feeling my first tinges of humiliation.  We were poor, dirt poor.  We weren't homeless--yet.  But almost.  My parents had also lost their car.  No heat, lights, water, car or food--not quite homeless--yet.

So yes, when I read Matthew 25, when I hear someone preach from that part of the Bible, my mind goes back in time to a place that I'd rather forget about.  I wonder if my parents even realize just how much I do remember.  How do I tell them--I remember everything.  I remember it all.  From the fear to the hunger to the embarrassment.  And yet, would I change it?  Any of it?  No, I would not.

To this very day when I see the faces of people in pain, whether they are homeless, grieving, or physically disabled, my heart automatically goes out to them.  I want to help in some small way.  I wonder--what do they need?  Food, water, warm clothing, a counselor, a friend, what?  How can I help the way others helped me?  I guess my past helped shape my future.  It made me into who I am today.  When I see a need I try to fill it. I like to get involved.  I like to help, the way others helped me.  I give, I counsel, I pray, I listen.  I'm there.  Just the way God was there for me when I was little.  He used those around us to help meet our needs.  A friend brought food over, a neighbor shared her water, another friend had a car, we made it, we survived.  I want others to survive too.  I want to help--in any way I can.  I want to be a sheep--not a goat.

I am now reading a book called--The Hole in Our Gospel.  It's breaking my heart all over again.  It's making me cry.  It's making me realize that what I went through as a child was nothing.  Nothing at all.  Just a short memory.  However, now as an adult I can make a change.  I can do something.
And I'm going to--for the least of these.

Matthew 25:31-46

The Message (MSG)

The Sheep and the Goats

^31-33 “When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left.

^34-36 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

^37-40 “Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’

^41-43 “Then he will turn to the ‘goats,’ the ones on his left, and say, ‘Get out, worthless goats! You’re good for nothing but the fires of hell. And why? Because—

I was hungry and you gave me no meal,
I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
I was homeless and you gave me no bed,
I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,
Sick and in prison, and you never visited.’

⁴⁴ “Then those ‘goats’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or homeless or shivering or sick or in prison and didn’t help?’

⁴⁵ “He will answer them, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.’
⁴⁶ “Then those ‘goats’ will be herded to their eternal doom, but the ‘sheep’ to their eternal reward.”

Getting Ready

I'm having a complete adrenaline rush.  It's been going on for about 2 days now and relief won't come until the morning.  That's OK with me though, I love these traveling rushes that accompany my trips to the airport.  That's right, I said airport.  I am leaving in the morning!  And while this flight isn't an overseas flight, it's a flight nonetheless.  And I'm excited.  I get to go to the airport.  I get to fly on an airplane.  I get to people watch, browse expensive airport shops and drink expensive airport cappuccinos.

I've barely slept the last 2 nights.  Packing and unpacking in my head.  Awake or asleep--it doesn't matter.  I'm packing!  I need clothing for daytime shopping and clothing for evening dinners, I need shoes for walking and shoes for looking fancy.  And handbags--I need handbags.  They by far are my most important item to pack.  They are my ruination.  My downfall.  The one thing I feel  most guilty about.  However, I can honestly say they've all been gifts via my husband.  There, I've just alleviated my guilt--a little bit.

So, in my hours of fitful sleep, I have repacked my one suitcase (yes, I said one, it's a short trip) several times.  Along with clothing and shoes and handbags, there is jewelry to think about and also cosmetic choices--I just love my make-up!   Can you understand why I'm not sleeping well?  No?  Well, that's OK, I get it.  I understand myself.

I also have our dog to kennel, our house to clean, neighbors to notify, boarding passes to print and a refrigerator to clean out.  I have this very weird thing that I have to do before I can leave on any trip that lasts longer than 2 days.  I have to clean my house--just in case I am killed along the way and someone comes into my home and says--wow, she was really a disorganized pig.  I couldn't handle that, so I clean.  Like a mad lady.  Then there is the refrigerator situation.  All food that might go bad must be thrown away, the shelves wiped clean and straightened--for the same reason mentioned above.  Can you say neurotic?

We leave tomorrow morning.  As soon as I sit down on that plane I know what's going to happen.  I will be so exhausted that the hum of the engines warming will lull me to sleep, if even for just a few minutes.  Then I will wake up, take out my Kindle and relax.  Until the next trip, and then the entire process will commence once again.  And that's OK with me, I love to travel.  Almost as much as I love getting ready.