Words To Live By

It is hard at times to eat the right foods for our bodies when the wrong foods can taste so delicious. I am just glad then that when it comes to food for the soul the choices are a little easier to make. Imagine, for instance, that you had two types of food before you. The first one is great for you. It makes your heart healthier, your mind clearer, and your body more energetic. It makes you feel fantastic both inside and out. It also tastes delicious. You could eat it for a million years and never get tired of it. It just takes a bit of effort and a few minutes to cook each day. The second food is terrible for you. It is hard on your heart and destroys your health. It depresses your mind and steals your body’s vitality. It makes you feel miserable both inside and out. It also tastes terrible. You can eat it right away, though. It is instant and takes no effort to make. Which one would you choose?

Sadly, more people than you would think make the second choice. The second choice is acting from fear. It is choosing to feed the soul hatred, violence, negativity, misery, pain, meanness, and loneliness. It is easy to do even though it hurts you every time you do it. It slowly poisons your life and the lives of those around you if they let it. The first choice, however, is choosing love. It is feeding the soul joy, peace, positivity, happiness, delight, goodness, and oneness with God. It takes a bit of effort, but it brings a lot of Heaven to Earth. It enriches your life and the lives of everyone you share it with.

What you eat is up to you. Choose your foods wisely then. God wants you to eat well not just with your stomach but also with your heart, soul, mind, and life. Lay out a table full of all the love, joy, light, goodness, and oneness with God that you possibly can. Then pull up a chair and invite everyone to the feast.

The parking lot filled rapidly on Sunday morning as members of the large church congregation filed into church. As usually happens in a church that size, each member had developed a certain comfort zone -- a block of space within those four church walls that became theirs after the second or third sitting. It was as much a part of their church experience as the recliner was to the television at home.

One morning a stranger stood at the edge of the parking lot near a dumpster. As families parked cars and piled out, they noticed him rummaging through the trash.

"Oh no! I don’t believe it," whispered a lady to her husband. "That’s all we need -- a bunch of homeless people milling around here." One worried little girl tugged on her dad’s sleeve. "But Daddy..." Daddy was busy sizing up the bearded stranger, whose baggy, outdated trousers and faded flannel shirt had dusted too many park benches.

"Don’t stare at him, honey," he whispered, and hurried her inside. Soft music filled the high-ceilinged sanctuary as churchgoers settled into their usual spots. The choir sang an opening chorus, "In His presence there is comfort... in His presence there is peace...".

Sunlight suddenly flooded the center aisle. The double doors swung open and the homeless man, sloppy and stooped, headed toward the front.

"Oh no, it’s him!" somebody muttered. "What does he think he’s doing, anyway?" snapped an incredulous usher.

The stranger set his bagful of dumpster treasures on the very first pew, which had been upholstered in an expensive soft teal fabric just three months ago.

The music stopped. And before anyone had a chance to react, he ambled up the stairs and stood behind the fine, hand-crafted oak podium, where he faced a wide-eyed congregation.

The disheveled stranger spoke haltingly at first, in a low, clear voice. Unbuttoning and removing his top layer of clothing, he described Jesus, and the love He has for all people.

"Jesus possesses a sensitivity and love that far surpasses what any of us deserves." Stepping out of the baggy old trousers, the stranger went on to describe a forgiveness that is available to each and every one of us... without strings attached.

Unconditionally He loves us. Unconditionally He gave his very life for us. Unconditionally and forever, we can have the peace and assurance that no matter who we are, where we’ve come from, or how badly we may have mistreated others or ourselves, there is hope. In Jesus, there is always hope.

"You see, my friends, it is never too late to change," the man continued. "He is the Author of change, and the Provider of forgiveness. He came to bring new meaning to ‘life’."

Men and women squirmed as reality hit them like an electrical current. The stranger tugged at his knotted gray beard, and removed it. "I’m here to tell you that we are loved with a Love far beyond human understanding, a Love that enables us to accept and love others in return."

Then tenderly he added, "Let’s pray together." That wise pastor -- under the guise of a homeless "nobody" -- did not preach a sermon that day, but every person left with plenty to think about.

A glance in the mirror. Simple. Yet altering somehow.

I am not the child I once was - yet I can still see him there - bright - happy - outgoing.

But wait, I pause to truly see the me I am today - lines and crevices mar the unspoiled face of childhood mirroring the many paths I could have chosen.

I am not sixteen, I am not twenty, and I am no longer thirty-five. Time has marched across my features and I can scarcely remember the Never Neverland of childish imaginings.

Yet as I continue to gaze in the reflection I see the features of family older and wiser in the shape and contour of my face. These family members gaze at me knowingly and understand the path I tread. A few of these family members remain while others reside in my memory only.

One day these gathered in my mind will be the stuff of legend with a bit of fable thrown in. Family stories will be passed along to those who never knew the flesh and blood reality. Given enough time most will be forgotten.

This chance encounter with the me in the mirror brings about a mid-life crisis of sorts. And I find myself needing to make a choice.

I can attempt to mimic the me I recall in faulty memory or I can attempt to honor the memory of those I have known by being more like them. Yet neither choice seems entirely agreeable.

Perhaps there is another choice.

The good old days are often the best of memories sifted often and embellished with time. The future holds much - promise, dreams, adventure, danger, new generations who do not see eye to eye with the past, declining health, perhaps loss of job, loss of memory and loss of my spouse.

My life is neither at the beginning and it may not be at the end. God delights in the heart of a child, so I choose that heart - God delights in a maturity, so I chose this path.

God gave Moses his greatest assignment at the age of 80, Abraham became a parent at 100, Paul and John wrote significant words later in life. Through aches and pains - flesh thorns and heartache God used these men.

I will not cower at the thought of the coming years. I want to run eagerly to my Savior's side and take His assignments gladly. I want to do so willingly.

Rather than looking back at the way things were, I want to look ahead to the way things could be. I want the heart of a child and the maturity of a wise man. I want to greet each day with a willingness to pursue the adventure called life. I won't do it by acting like someone half my age - I will do it with the help of an ageless God who loves me and understands that I am but dust.

I will associate with younger people - I will need to know what they think and how they see their world. I will surround myself with older people - I will need the wisdom they can offer. And I will not contribute one dime to the widening of the generation gap.

The me in the mirror is not what I once was. The me in the mirror is not the final word on who I will become. The me in the mirror is simply a reflection of today - a day that the Lord has made for my enjoyment and, more importantly, His purpose.

I walk away from the mirror with a smile on my face. I have things to do - crisis averted!

Most teens can't wait to learn to drive.

Not so with me. Driving made me nervous. I didn't get a license until I turned 24 years old.

As a result, when I first married, we only had one car and car pooled to work. My husband's hours were different from mine by one hour. I worked earlier. So he dropped me off and went to the diner to drink coffee until work time.

Then, in the afternoons, I leisurely walked the three miles to his work place where I waited in his car, reading a book.

One day while waiting for him, I noticed the most beautiful Cadillac pull in the lot. It was powder blue and sleek looking. The kind of car you dream about. I was busily admiring the car, when I noticed the driver. Honestly, she was probably the prettiest woman I had ever seen off the movie screen.

She pulled into the spot beside our car and it was all I could do not to stare. There was a striking resemblance to Liz Taylor. Jet black hair and alabaster skin. Our eyes made contact and she smiled at me. Her eyes were as blue as the sea, and teeth like an even row of pearls. She was wearing a light blue shirt that just matched her car. Peeking through her long, softly curled hair I could see gold hoop earrings. They had to be gold to shine like that.

A couple of minutes later, a nice looking man came out the building, entered her car, leaned over and kissed her and she drove away.

Sitting there in my jeans, shirt and hair in a pony tail, I wanted to cry. How could some people have it all?

Maybe I would have forgotten about her, but the following week, I saw her again. Then it became almost routine to see her about once a week. She seemed friendly and always waved, flashing a big smile. My envy lingered long after she drove away.

I would get my answers in a couple of weeks.

Sitting in our usual parking lot, I was holding my book, watching her over the top of it. She was waiting and when her husband came to the car, she called to him. They spoke a few words and he opened the car door for her to step out. He took her arm and helped her out of the car. I could see very well as she moved to get out. She was wearing a skirt.

She haltingly walked around to the passenger side very slowly, leaning on a walking cane. Sitting sideways in the car, she lifted one leg with her hands and then the other one. The beautiful lady had a prosthesis on the left leg and a brace on the right leg.

I couldn't watch them drive away as the tears were blinding me.

For weeks I had envied this woman and her way of life, while I had been able to walk three miles to our car!

When my husband arrived and found me crying, he immediately asked what was wrong. Through my tears, I told him about the beautiful lady. He said he knew her husband and also knew the story. The beautiful lady and her parents were in a car that either stalled or got caught on the railroad tracks and was hit by a train. Both parents were killed and she was severely injured. She was only 12 years old.

The railroad made a large settlement with her because the crossing had no signals. He explained her car was specially built for her needs as well as the home.

I prayed for forgiveness all the way home. The lady I thought had everything, didn't. I thanked God over and over for my legs, arms and sight, and for teaching me a lesson early on in life.

When you meet a person who seems to be much better off than you, don't be fooled. I would not have traded places with the beautiful lady for anything -- I still had my parents, and the ability to walk, run or dance through life. Wonderful things money can't buy.

All houses should have a kitchen window.  At least, for me, there is a lot to see in the view from my kitchen window.

It happened many years ago, but it was a view that I can still see in my mind’s eye.  It was one of those significant moments that has always stayed in my memory.

It was a spring day, a Saturday, and I was washing the dishes when I happened to look out the kitchen window into the back yard.  My husband, Mike, was out cultivating the garden with a tiller.  Right behind him was our son, Jeremy, who was four years old at the time.

Mike was moving the tiller very slowly in order to do a good job of breaking up the soil for planting.  My son was just inches behind my husband and each time that Mike took a step, Jeremy took a step. He would carefully put his own small foot in the huge imprint made from my husband’s boot.  Jeremy had to really stretch in order to imitate the larger stride of his father. Very slowly he extended each of his legs, one at a time, almost as far as his legs would go. The process was slow.  He took a step with his right foot and then his left and then he would wait patiently for when it would be time to take the next step.

Sometimes Jeremy would lose his balance because he would become engrossed in a glittering rock or a wriggling insect along the way.  The dog that kept barking for him to come away and join him in a frolic also distracted him.

Yet, even when Jeremy stumbled or fell, when he got up and fixed his eyes on his father, he was able to follow in his footsteps.  Once again he followed ever so slowly and carefully, placing his right foot where his father’s right foot had been and then placing his left foot where his father’s left foot had been.  As long as he concentrated on following his father, he stayed right on the same path and never fell.  Although Jeremy didn’t know it, his father had been watching over him all the time, even when he stumbled and fell.

That view from my kitchen window has remained in my mind until this day.  In one way it is a literal picture of the need of a child for a father’s good example.

It is also an illustration for all of us. We also need to follow our heavenly Father a step at a time and then wait for the next step like Jeremy did with his earthly father.

How many times have I bounded ahead of my Father, only to find dry, hard ground that I couldn’t manage because it hadn’t been tilled yet.  I ran into trouble because I didn’t wait for the Father to go before me and prepare the way.

At other times, I became tired of waiting for the next step and began looking around at all the glittering rocks of the world that led me astray.  There were times that I listened to the barking dogs around me too.  They beckoned me away, making empty promises until one day I had almost lost sight of my Father.  Yet, like Jeremy, all I needed was to turn around and fix my eyes on my Father who had also been watching over me all the time.

There can be a lot to see in the view from my kitchen window.

The snow had fallen and although they say there are no two snowflakes alike, piled there on the ground, they all looked the same.

That, too, can be said about people. There are no two exactly alike. When gathered together in large crowds though, everyone looks the same.

So, what if you are trying to stand out in a crowd? What if you are tired of being overlooked? What if you believe that it's your time to get noticed?

Be a flake.

"That doesn't make sense at all, Bob. You just said that after the snow fall they all looked the same." Look again.

At various times and depending on where you are standing, one can see even the smallest flake.

How? It depends on the light.

Snow, like water, glistens in the sun. At just the right time, at just the right angle, every drop, every flake, has a chance to stand out.

The difference is people have a choice. When we fall, we can stay right where we are, melt into the ground and watch our hopes and dreams be washed away. Or we can rise up to face the light of a new dawn and be a reflection of all the good in the world. Light brings our dreams to life.

We naturally see light as hope, because in the light we can see the truth.

We often see darkness as fear, because it represents the unknown. We fear what we cannot see.

The light is perfect and although some claim to be, we cannot claim perfection ours.

So, how then can we stand out?

Like the snowflake, sparkling and beautifully unique, if we cannot be the light, be a reflection of it.

The same light that makes the snowflake sparkle, the same light that brings truth to darkness and fear, made you to rise up in a crowd and stand out as a sparkling and beautifully unique reflection in the world.

If you feel you have missed your chance to shine, you are mistaken. It is why God made the day. After each period of darkness comes the light. And although you cannot see it during the darkest times of your life, the light shines for those who believe. It is why He made the stars and the moon. They, like you, are not perfect, but are a true reflection of "The Light."