Mister Little Mouse

It's a strange day today.  All I wanted to do is go in my kitchen, as I do every morning, get a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.  Is this too much to ask? It's a simple request.

So I go over and put some bread in the toaster, walk around to the dishwasher, pull out a clean cup, walk to the Keurig and put in my favorite coffee pod, set the cup on the base, pull the handle, push the brew button, and wah lah!...coffee brewing.  After it finishes, I add my sugar and cream and take a sweet sip of my caffeine nectar.   I hear the sound of  "pop" as my toast has reached perfection, so I turn to retrieve my toast and smear some butter on it.  As I take my first step, my eyes catch up to the direction I'm going and .........AHHHHHHH!

Little Mouse, why are you sitting all humped up in front of my refrigerator just staring at me with those beady little eyes????  How long have you been staring......watching......stalking.....

After I scream and nearly drop my cup of coffee, I stomp my foot (well, what else would you expect me to do?).  Little Mouse scurries under my fridge and I tip toe to my toaster.  Okay, I'm feeling some  relief, you know, the whole outta sight outta mind sort of thing.  Feeling pretty good about myself, I take my pretty little plate of toast and my steaming cup of coffee into my living room, sit down on my favorite chair, prop my feet up and settle in to watch a little news while sipping on my tasty cup of caffeine.

I reach down to get my piece of buttery toast, put it to my mouth and raise my eyes.......AHHHHH!
Little Mouse is sitting in front of my chair across the room staring......watching......stalking.......

I jump up, toast still in hand, and Little Mouse runs under the chair, but I can still see him peeping at me under the chair.  So I do the only thing I know to do.  Stomp.  As I lay my toast in the plate, I bend to pick up my weapon of choice....my shoes.

He runs over to the tv stand and I see him starting toward the grandkids toys behind the stand.  "Oh, no you don't, Little Mouse."  Casting all fear aside, I cross the room to fight to the death.  No one messes with my grand kids' toys, not even Little Mouse.

Alright, so maybe I'm not fearless.  Thoughts of "what if he runs up my leg" and "what if he attacks" begin to pass through my mind, so I stop.  It's a stand off.  It's a flashback of the OK Corral.  With shoe in hand, I make my move.  I stomp.  He starts scurrying....I scream.....he scurries.....I throw my shoe.  Then.....OH MY LORD......he starts crawling up my curtain!  AHHHHHHH!

As I'm screaming, I throw my other shoe and pray I don't bust out a window.  It's a direct hit!  He falls to the ground....he's laying there twitching, and for a second I think, "Aww, Little Mouse is hurting and I need to baby him." 

Regaining my senses, I attack again.  Needless to say, Little Mouse will not be playing with my grand kids' toys.  No sir.....not in MY house.....huh uh.....this Mimi's bad to the bone.

So, now Little Mouse is in the resting place of all other little mouse relatives that messed with this bad mama, out in my field...where I threw him from my dust pan like throwing a shot put, turned ran in the house, slammed the door and shivered.

Whew. 

 

My Friend

We all know the Proverbs 18:24 verse, most of us have quoted it, "A man that hath friends shall show himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."  It needs no explaining, it's pretty much self explanatory.  It's very simple, very direct, yet it speaks volumes. 

I love the second part of that verse because in my lifetime I have found a handful of these friends.  When you are so low that you have to look up to see the bottom and you have a person that will still be by your side, you have found a friend.

During the failing health of my mother, in which time I was still grieving the loss of my dearest sister, I had a friend.  She would let me cry to her, she would let me be angry about circumstances, she would stay by my side.  When speaking the name of my sister made other people uncomfortable, or would leave them wondering why I still talked about her after she was gone, my friend would smile at my stories and encourage me to talk more.  She not only offered to help during those long days and nights and many trips out of state, she listened, she went with me, she stayed by my side.
 
When my husband's office caught fire and had to be renovated and remodeled, there she was.  She didn't just say, "I'm sorry for your problems", she acted.  When I was painting, ripping out walls, unhinging cabinets, sanding, cleaning....there she was.  Her face was as dirty as mine and her hands as bruised.  There were days when I had to go check on my mother, but the work continued because she didn't quit, even when I wasn't there.  Oh, she said she needed to do it to get her mind off her own problems at the time, she said it helped her, but, no, I was the one who was lucky to have her in my life at that time.

There are many well intentioned people who say, "if there's anything I can do, just call" , but a friend that sticketh closer than a brother says, "I'm coming over and this is what we're going to do."
 
My friend and I have worked ourselves silly at one project or another, we've sat down to have lunch with dirty faces and stained hands, but laughed like two goons over nothing in particular.  My friend and I have gone on trips that we ended up climbing through windows, we've shopped til we actually did drop (because my friend has to touch everything in the store), we've had spontaneous outings, sweated like hogs working together, planned and decorated anything we could, fussed at inconsiderate people then feel ashamed (sometimes), had moments of panic at each other's driving, and cried together at each other's heartaches.
 

It's nothing for one of us to call the other in the morning and say, "hey, I'm going....do you want to go with me" and we jump in the car for a spontaneous trip to who knows where.  She's babysat my kids, hugged my grandkids and been part of our family gatherings.

She's not my sister by blood, but she is my heart sister.  What a grand thing to have a friend.

Proverbs 17:17a  A friend loveth at all times.....

The Joys of Motherhood

Ahhhh, the joys of motherhood.  There is not one thing on this earth that is more important than the position of motherhood.  Fatherhood is probably a tie, but I like to think we mothers are maybe one step ahead.

It begins with the sleepless nights because of this new little person in our home who really doesn't care who's asleep when the hunger pain hits. As you wake with a shock because you think the police siren is blaring in your room, you realize it's only the wails of that person who is no longer than your thigh bone.   They decide it's more fun to snuggle on mommy than to lay in their bed, and they demand their soiled diapers be changed that instant and then cry when you struggle to remove it.

And as they grow, they can live in a soiled diaper.  They don't care.  It belongs to them and they want to keep it.  So when you finally catch them sloshing through the house it takes straight jackets, body slams and wrestling moves to pin them down long enough to clean them up.

The toddler years....the terrible two's is a blur of giggles, tantrums, sticky kisses and dandelion bouquets.  There are imprints of matchbox cars and GI Joes on the soles of your feet, you don't have clothes anymore without stains, and most dinners contain chicken nuggets or mac and cheese.

During the school years your house is an art museum of pictures that contain stick families, happy dogs, and smiling suns.  You struggle to remember the spelling rules...does 'i' come before 'e' and there's something about a 'c'.....how do you divide fractions.....and last minute projects.

Oh, and teenagers....that's a whole new universe.  Where did they get that attitude and why are they acting just like me?  Riding in the car with the new driver involves white knuckles, nausea, lots of Tums and Tylenol.  There are love interests and broken hearts.....victories and failures.  They struggle and strain to burst out of their childhood cocoons to become an adult.

Even though children have no clue, mothers walk every step with them.  Sometimes you carry them, sometimes you're behind them with your arms ready to catch them, sometimes you're hiding in the background as they struggle to make decisions, but you're always in front of them with open arms for encouragement, celebration of accomplishments, or just because you love them. 

I'm so glad that I made that decision to be a mom.  I'm so in awe of those adults who used to be my babies.  I look at them and wonder how they became such great people when I bumbled and fumbled through motherhood, but that's just how God always works; He blesses our efforts and He multiplies our successes.  I was given these tiny little seeds of humans and I have seen them grow and bloom into beautiful, caring, productive adults. 

I am a mother and I am so blessed.



Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.  Proverbs 31:25

FOCUS

In a recent visit to a white, powdery sandy beach with crystal blue water, I was able to watch the dolphins put on a show each morning, and watched the pelicans swoop down and make nose dives into the ocean for a meal of seafood and then they relax and float on the waters, bobbing up and down as each little wave passed.  There absolutely has to be a God because who else could think up all this stuff!

I make it my personal challenge to find at least one shark tooth when I visit the beach. I'm a person on a mission, I'm focused, I'm a pirate in search of the treasure....I will not be defeated!  It's like I become obsessed.  That's it.  I become obsessed.  I have shark tooth obsessive compulsive disorder...S.T.O.C.D. I would walk along, talking to myself, trying to convince myself that I would come away from that beach victorious. 

One morning on my quest, I even had a man that had just a handful of shells who must have noticed my tunnel vision, and he stopped and asked me very nicely, "just what are you looking for, exactly?" in which I replied very confidently, "shark teeth."  He looked at me as if he was thinking, "Bless her heart, she's the lady with S.T.O.C.D."  So he smiled and walked away as I continued to stare at the ground in my search.  I was so focused in my search one morning that a lady had walked right up beside me and I didn't even see her until she said, "Good morning!"  I was so startled that I threw the sea shell I'd been holding straight up in the air and let out a little squeal.

Every morning I came up empty handed and on the last day of my visit before I was to catch my plane home, I made one last attempt at finding the elusive shark tooth.  As I was walking alone on the beach, I began to talk to God about my family and my friends, and I began to ponder on the wonders of this place we call earth.  How much beauty He has given us,  We have the beautiful shores to walk miles and miles on with the water lapping at our toes, and with each passing wave little odd treasures land at our feet.  There's the shells that are about the size of a baby's fingernail, there are shells that are larger than my hand...shells that have many different colors and shells that are bleached white....shells that are polished to a glassy sheen and shells that are covered in lichen.  And then there is sea glass, drift wood, starfish, sand dollars and an occasional blob of a jellyfish laying along the sand.

So, as I was walking along the beach talking to God about everything and about my quest, in the breezes of the wind and the sounds of the ocean, I believe he whispered in my ear, "You're missing the beauty all around you because you're focused on one thing."   Whoa.  God, do you really have to teach me a lesson right now?  I'm kind of busy...in my search....never mind.  I stood up, gazed up and down the beach just to put in perspective what God had just opened my eyes to and began to reflect.
 
Many people never meet their potential, never find that happiness, never have peace because they're focused on one thing and never see the beauty around them. 

Teenagers who are focused on who's most popular, who's the cutest, who's the best athlete, but they fail to see the one that is quiet, and loyal, and kind.  Husbands who focus on the new coworker who is young, attractive and willing, but doesn't see the mother of his children who is faithful.  The wife that focuses on how great her best friend's husband is, but fails to see her own husband who has worked everyday just to make her life better.  Parents focus on their children's atheletic abilities, but overlook the kindness in their hearts.  Friends focus on what you can do for me, but forget the satisfaction of giving.
 
Let's see if we can get through this day not focusing on what we don't have, but on what God has blessed us with.

If we look at Philippians 4:8, replace the word "whatsoever" with the words  "focus on"  and see if we can get a different perspective.



Philippians 4:8
8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Mary, the Mom

As Mary sat rocking her precious baby boy, I'm sure she did as all mothers do...She counted fingers and toes, she touched the translucent ears, she rubbed the feathery hair on his head.  I'm sure she smiled as she looked into the trusting eyes that looked back at her.  .As Mary held her baby boy, she had to wonder what, and who it was that she held in her arms.

As she sang beautiful things to this child she was singing to the Rose of Sharon... the Lily of the Valley... the Dayspring... the Daystar... the Bright and Morning Star.

As she was feeding her child  she was feeding the Bread of Life.

When she called him son, she was talking to the Son of David.... the Son of Man... the Son of Righteousness...the Great I AM.

Mary, either knowing or unknowing, began to prepare this boy that she cradled and rocked.  She was loving him to prepare him for the cruelties that were to come.  She was comforting him to prepare him for the tears he would shed for us.  And as she rocked him, she was molding him into the man that would be the Rock that is Higher than I, the Rock upon which the church is built, The Chief Cornerstone.

Mary was rocking the Rock of our Salvation.

 

 

Luke 1:31 - And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS

For This I Am Thankful

I wanted to write the typical Thanksgiving post...what are you thankful for, but in light of today's events and today's problems it almost seems plastic.  So, I would like to get real and just say some things from my heart and hopefully it will touch your heart.

When we see wars, death, terrorism, persecutions, sin being legalized in our own country, a great falling away from the faith, and just the stresses we face each day, sometimes it may be hard
to focus on the things that we are, or need to be, thankful for.

While I'm penning these words, I get a call from a dear Tennessee friend and pastor, who became part of our family because of his close relationship to my sister.  He was so good to her and my sister loved him like a son and through their friendship, he became my friend.  He just called to encourage me and tell me that he is praying for me and my family.  For this, I am very thankful.

Through trials with my grandson, which brings feelings of hopelessness and helplessness, I get a text from a dear friend that just says, "are you okay" and I cry because someone cared enough to ask.  There was no long conversation, no opinions, no advice, just a simple question that showed a heart of love.  For this, I am thankful.

When I get a call from a friend who lets me vent my frustrations, my heartaches, my anger, my troubles and she listens without judging me or condemning me, for this I am thankful.

As I struggle through difficulties and deaths, there are some things that can help make the day a little easier to face.  As all grandparents know, there is just something about the sound of those voices of our grandchildren, there is just something about those smiles and there is just something about those arms around our necks in a sweet hug.  When times get overwhelming, I text my kids "I need a picure" and immediately, through the wonders of electronics, I get a smile on my phone of one of those faces that makes my heart smile.  For this I am thankful.





During those times I get a phone call from my granddaughter when her house is in distress, when she's scared and just needs to hear someone's voice, I am so happy that I can be of some comfort, some consolation.  For this I am thankful




.



One of my granddaughters came to my house the other day and kept repeating, "Mimi, I 'misted' you so much" and kept giving me hugs, it made the troubles of my heart seem so small.  When she left and said, "You will always be my Mimi and I will love you forever and ever" (and yes, her goodbyes are always this dramatic), she gave me something to cherish.  For this I am thankful.




My sons and my husband took me to a West Virginia basketball game the other day, even though my stepdad had just passed and I wasn't much company, they still wanted me to go with them.  They wanted me to have a good time in spite of everything.  For this I am thankful.




 
Two little granddaughters came to visit, we took pictures, played in the floor, and made ghost cookies that we couldn't eat unless we made ghost sounds of ooooooh in a high pitched voices.  There was lots of hugs, kissing faces, chocolate, toys, songs, and dog hugs.  For this I am thankful.








When I told my stepdad goodbye on my last visit, I didn't realize it would be the last goodbye.  And although death is so painful for the living, it can have consolations.  My stepdad was supposed 
to go home on Monday because, once again, he had come through unbelievable circumstances.  He had lived through a brain aneurysm, five brain surgeries, feeding tube for 15 years, and several bouts with pneumonia.

The doctor came in and was just giving him the speech of take care of yourself because you're going home today.  My stepdad just smiled (which he does a lot when he doesn't actually hear what you're saying).  I believe he understood that day.  He looked at my nephew and, in his whispery voice, said, "I'm going home."  My nephew told him that he knew that so he was going to go on to the house and get everything ready for him.  Once again my stepdad said, "I'm going home."   And once again my nephew told him that he understood.  He was going to get it all ready.  My stepdad then said, "No.  You don't understand.  I'm going Home" and he closed his eyes and entered heaven.  For this I am very thankful.

Psalms 107:1 - O give thanks unto the LORD, for [he is] good: for his mercy [endureth] for ever.

Filthy Rags....or Deer Legs

I used to struggle with the story of Cain and Abel and the fact that Cain's offering wasn't good enough.  I always thought that Cain gave the best he had just as Abel did, but what I didn't see was that Cain had already been told what offering was acceptable and what was not.  It would be like a teacher asking the class to write an essay on their summer vacation and one child turns in a page full of math problems with the excuse that they are better at math than writing.  I know that simplifies the whole thing, but it's basically the same.  The authority asks for something, explains the rules, and expects for everyone to comply.

And how often do we do this in our daily lives?  How often do we decide the rules don't really apply to us, so we change them.  The speed limit says 70 mph, so we set our cruise control on 72.  What's up with that?  What difference is that extra 2 mph going to make in the long run?  It's going to get us somewhere, what,  30 seconds sooner, so that's going to change our lives?  Why do we always want to push the limits?

Mothers watch as their toddlers get closer to something they were told not to touch.  The toddler looks back to see if mom is watching as their hand is hovering over the forbidden object.  And then, just as expected, mom sternly says, "NO", and the child touches it anyway.

I watched, the other day, as one of our sweet little granddaughters started to go up our stairs in the house.  She was going very slowly, looking around for mom or dad because she knew she wasn't supposed to go up the stairs alone.  Her mom sees her, tells her "no" and as mom starts toward her to stop her I could see the grin come across her face.  The closer mom got, the faster she went. Not only was she doing what she wasn't supposed to do, she was giggling about it!

I can imagine Cain doing the same thing as he was gathering his offering, going about it with enthusiasm, thinking to himself what a good job he was doing, maybe even giggling a little bit.  He just couldn't wait to show God his offering....his goodness....his righteousness.  He couldn't see God's heart because he was blinded by his own righteousness.

I was doing one of my favorite things in the world to do the other day, which is sitting on my screened porch reading, pondering, and contemplating life.  I had left the screen door to the outside open because my huge polar bear dog, Cleopatra, likes to come in, flop down, let out a huge sigh,  spread herself across half the floor and sleep.  I saw her coming around the porch and it seemed she had a little perk in her step.  She jumped up on the deck, pranced through the screen door wagging her fan of a tail and stood there looking at me with those happy brown eyes.  She was so pleased with herself because she had brought me a gift. She had trotted up to my seat with her prize. I could see the confusion on her face as I screamed, jumped up off my chaise and chased her out of my screened room, with her tail tucked and  a deer leg jangling out of her mouth.

Although she had brought me what she considered her best, it really wasn't what I have in mind when I'm opening a gift.  And isn't that what our righteousness is to God?  He said it was "as filthy rags."  That doesn't mean like a dirty wash cloth.  No, this literally means menstrual cloth, or a cloth that has been wrapped around a runny, pustulous sore.  That's what our righteousness is compared to God's righteousness.  It is filthy, nasty and vile.  Even when we do our best and pat ourselves on the back for our righteous and noble act, it is still smelly and sickening in the nose of God, but a miraculous thing happens when we "do all things through Christ".  We please our Father.

Let's seek God's righteousness in anything we do, not our own because it's as a filthy rag....or a deer leg.



Isaiah 64:6  But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags;