You know that time in church when they say, “Let’s take a few minutes to meet the people around you.”?  I’m gonna come clean here and tell you this is probably the worst part of the church service for me. I guess after all these years, I’m used to it, but I’m still not a fan. Contrary to the belief of many, an extrovert I am not. Is it my imagination, or does it seem this Meet and Greet time gets longer each week? I believe it’s meant to make visitors feel welcome, and I think most often it does. A quick two-minute acknowledgment of those sitting in front, beside and behind me is okay. But the times when it goes any longer than that, I simply don’t know what to do with myself. If I sit back down, do I look like I’m rude, disobedient, or unsociable? Perhaps I appear as unapproachable or distant. If I leave my seat and walk around, I feel like a little lost puppy trying to find someone that will give me their attention.

This week we were instructed to “take five minutes and go shake hands with two people on the other side of the room.” Are you kidding me? For the extroverts in the room, it’s the best thing ever. For someone like me, the only word to describe it is…painful. I introduced myself to Hannah on my left and Lois on my right. The couple sitting in front of me had already started making their way out of their row and had their backs to me, and when I turned around, I found no one sitting behind me.

So, there it was. I again found myself in the awkward moment of having to figure out what to do with the remaining four and a half minutes. So, I did what every well-trained introvert would do. I slipped out of my seat and went out to the lobby for a moment to gather some information about upcoming events. 

My plan worked wonderfully. I killed a few minutes in the lobby before wandering back in and taking my seat. Hannah was still on my left, and Lois still on my right. Just after I took my place, Hannah leaned over me to introduce herself to Lois. Lois was an older woman, a bit frail, but enthusiastic enough to engage with Hannah, who was in her early thirties.

“Good Morning, I’m Hannah,” Hannah said as she extended her hand for a polite handshake. “Lois,” the woman on my right replied. However, Hannah couldn’t hear Lois over the conversations around us. “Louanne?” Hannah asked. “No, Lois,” the older woman replied. “Linda?” Hannah said. “No, I’m Lois… I’m Clark Kent’s girlfriend,” Lois said, loud and clear. “Oh, very nice to meet you, Lois,” Hannah said. Message received. 

What a great reply.  It was obvious how important it was to Lois that Hannah get her name right. I can tell you; I won’t forget her name.

A couple of things crossed my mind as I sat there in a place where it seemed everyone knew someone except for me. I realized it’s okay for me to be a complicated introvert who is socially awkward and much too aware. I also realized most of us have a need to feel unforgettable, unique, and memorable. It’s not just a Lorrie thing. It’s merely human nature to feel as if we matter. 

Perhaps David was feeling the same way when he wrote this Psalm.   

“O Lord, You have looked through me and have known me.  You know when I sit down and when I get up. You understand my thoughts from far away. You look over my path and my lying down. You know all my ways very well. Even before I speak a word, O Lord, You know it all. You have closed me in from behind and in front. And You have laid Your hand upon me. All You know is too great for me. It is too much for me to understand.

Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I run away from where You are? If I go up to heaven, You are there! If I make my bed in the place of the dead, You are there!  If I take the wings of the morning or live in the farthest part of the sea, even there Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will hold me.  If I say, “For sure the darkness will cover me and the light around me will be night,” even the darkness is not dark to You. And the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are the same to You.

For You made the parts inside me. You put me together inside my mother. I will give thanks to You, for the greatness of the way I was made brings fear. Your works are great, and my soul knows it very well. My bones were not hidden from You when I was made in secret and put together with care in the deep part of the earth. Your eyes saw me before I was put together. And all the days of my life were written in Your book before any of them came to be.” Psalm 139:1-16

I cannot promise we will never feel invisible. We may never find a place like Cheers, where everybody knows our name. However, we can take comfort in knowing the one who matters most absolutely knows our name, and better yet, he will never forget it.  

 Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

I was church shopping. It can be an interesting and educating experience. I visited large churches, small churches, young churches, old churches, traditional churches, and contemporary churches. Church membership is important to me, so I don’t take lightly the task of finding the right fit.

One Sunday morning, I chose to visit a non-denominational church. I must say they made a nice initial impression. The parking lot attendants were friendly and helpful, and as I entered the church, I was greeted at the door with the customary handshake and smile. I don’t know if they knew I was visiting, but that was perfectly fine with me. I’m much more comfortable with my “slip in and slip out” approach to church visitation. Oh, the things we can learn when we quietly watch what’s going on around us. The church wasn’t small like some little country churches I’d visited, but it was far from one of the Mega Churches in the area. It looked like a relatively new building built with optimistic ideals of growth. As I looked around, I noted the furniture was up to date, and the equipment was current with the latest technology. They had an excellent video system, a nice soundboard, and a very nice sound system. They had everything needed for a contemporary worship service, not overdone or over the top. I sat quietly and observed as the members found their seats and waited for the service to begin.

There was nothing unusual or unexpected at first. The worship music at the beginning was well done, and well-rehearsed. However, when the pastor got up to do the welcome and announcements, there was a little snag. His wireless microphone went out, mid-sentence. In my world, that is what we call a Shopping Cart Test. Before I finish my story, let me tell you precisely what a Shopping Cart Test is.

A Shopping Cart Test is an unexpected event that shows who you are at the core. It’s a situation that will test your natural response to a situation without thought or measurement of your actions. It’s easy to react kindly to a kind event, and it’s easy to respond positively to a positive event. But the true test is your natural reaction to a negative event. It could be how you react behind the wheel when someone pulls out in front of you, requiring you to slam on your breaks. It could be how you react when the child sitting next to you spills his chocolate milk all over your brand new white dress shirt, or it could be how you react when you’re standing in front of your congregation and your mic goes out.

The term “Shopping Cart Test” comes from a Walmart experience my daughter and I once had. I was cruising down one of the main aisles (yes, I quite obviously had the right of way), and very unexpectedly, a shopping cart crashed into the side of mine. The woman pushing the cart looked up with the most awful, hateful expression on her face. She was just opening her mouth to say something derogatory when she realized she knew me. Correction. She actually recognized my daughter. There was a split second before we saw the realization hit her. She both physically and mentally put herself in check. She then took a deep breath and said in a measured, sugary tone, “Oh! Hi, Lorrie.” Now that I think about it, it was odd she would use my name although never being introduced to me. Honestly, it was hysterical. I shudder to think how she would have reacted to someone whose opinion of her didn’t matter to her. This woman’s natural reaction to the event showed who she indeed was as a person, and years later, we found this to be right on the mark.

I do want to take a moment here to say that this is more of a fun, playful term than anything serious. Sometimes the test comes our way, and we are affected directly, and often, we are merely observing a test being doled out to someone else. I’ve used this parable to teach both my daughters about kindness, gentleness, and how important it is to be so filled with the love of Jesus that even our reactions to the unexpected are Christ-like. It sort of caught on as a cute little expression with those who know us and has been a fun point of reference for many years.

So, let’s get back to my story about the dead microphone. Let me just say the pastor of the church had an epic fail to his Shopping Cart Test. When the mic went dead, he yanked it off his ear and threw it on the ground. As he did, he knocked over one of the worship team mic stands then stormed off the platform. I could not believe my eyes. I understand perhaps he was having a bad day, or maybe other things were going on in his life that could have caused him to overreact to the situation. But, I will never forget how uncomfortable I felt sitting there in that pew. I knew immediately that this was not the church for me. The pastor had lost my confidence in him as a Shepherd before he even opened his mouth to preach. The worship team did a couple more songs, and a few minutes later, he came back, calm as a cucumber. He preached his message with never a mention of the awkward moment before. I don’t remember one sentence of his message, but I clearly remember how terrible I felt as I left that service. I never went back.

We are not going to pass all the Shopping Cart Tests that come our way, no matter who we are at the core, but Christ does change us from the inside out. I’ve seen many people transformed simply by finding God’s amazing love. When filled with God’s love, we can do, and see, and understand things that we could not have otherwise done, seen, or understood. As we grow closer to Him, we become more like Him. Perhaps that’s why one might person might laugh in the very same situation another might get angry.

A few months later, after I’d found my new church home, my new pastor’s mic went out in the middle of the service. The situation felt strangely familiar; however, the outcome could not have been more different. As soon as his mic went out, he paused for a split second and glanced around. He got a big grin on his face when he noticed a mic sitting on the front pew used for announcements. Without missing a beat, he said, “Sweet!” He literally jumped off the platform, grabbed the mic, and finished up the service.

Becoming more like Christ is the desire of every believer, and it’s encouraging to know God has the same desire for us. The bible says God “predestined [believers] to be conformed to the likeness of his Son” (Romans 8:29). We are all works in progress; we are in a state of transformation. We, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed (1 Peter 4:12-13)

Making us Christ-like is God’s work, and He will see it through to the end (Philippians 1:6).

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

Trees in the desert are a rare sight. However, there are a few. When we purchased our home, the large willow tree in the front yard was one of the most beautiful features of the home. The shade it provided was a welcome relief to the brutally hot desert summers. It cast enough shadow to keep the front of our house a bit cooler and the grass below the tree a bit greener.  It wasn’t a huge tree but had obviously been there a few years, as I couldn’t quite wrap my arms around the trunk when I gave it a hug.

Under the tree was the perfect spot to set up our little plastic kiddie pool for the girls in the summertime. And as they got older, it was the best spot in the yard for their Slip-n-Slide. It was also there that I placed my lawn chair as I sat and watched the neighborhood children, as well as my own, make circles around the cul-de-sac on their tricycles, bicycles, and Barbie Jeeps.

Our tree had the perfect branch where each Halloween we perched our not so typical jack-o-lantern.  Our house was known as the house with the talking pumpkin.  We would carve a large pumpkin, put a speaker in it, and wire up a microphone. As the neighborhood kids came up our front walkway to collect their goodies, we would take turns being the voice of the pumpkin. We could see and hear them from just inside our front door, but they couldn’t see us at all. If we knew them, we might address them by name. If not, we might comment on their costumes or tell a silly joke to get their attention. We would ask questions to see if we could get people to engage, and to our delight, most did. Very few were afraid, and the majority of our guests loved the experience, children and adults alike.

At the end of our sixth summer in the house, we noticed the tree had a branch or two that didn’t look very healthy. Sadly, we learned that many of the willow trees in the Mojave Desert were being infested by wood-boring beetles. The larvae bore into the wood, tunneling as they fed, causing fatal girdling on the willow trunk and lower branches. We called Mike, the bug-man, to come out and look at the tree. He told us he could destroy the bugs on the outside of the tree to slow them down, which he did, but the beetles were burrowing through the bark of the tree and were destroying it from the inside out. He could do nothing about the beetles on the inside of the tree.  This was a bug-battle that even our friend Mike, hard as he tried, was going to lose. He told us it was just a matter of time before we would lose the tree. He recommended we go ahead and remove it.

As we discussed the removal of my favorite tree, my vote was we wait one more year before removing it. I didn’t think one more year would make much of a difference. I simply couldn’t part with my magnificent tree. Seriously, the tree didn’t look that bad, and we all know I can be a bit on the picky side. However, a year later, when summer arrived, the tree was so sick it oozed “smelly stuff” from its trunk and limbs, and the goop running down the sides of the tree attracted all sorts of other insects. If all the creeping, crawling, and flying bugs didn’t keep us out of our front yard that summer, the smell most certainly did. There were no pools set up to dip in, and there were no slides set up to slip on. No one wanted to be anywhere near our front yard that year.

When Summer turned to Fall, we had the tree removed and reclaimed our front yard. As you know, looks can be deceiving. Although the outside of the tree still looked pretty good, the beetles had caused havoc below the surface. As the tree was taken down and loaded on a truck for disposal, we could see there were entire limbs that had been completely hollowed out by the beetles, leaving the branches with nothing but the outer shell.  It was a miracle a large piece of the tree hadn’t fallen to the ground with just the slightest gust of wind. Someone could have been seriously injured. 

I can see how my willow tree directly relates to many situations we come across on our life’s journey. Sometimes we hang on to things longer than we should, be it a bad job or a bad relationship. Perhaps it’s a dream that doesn’t work out the way we had hoped it would. But there’s good news. We can replant. And when we replant, we can choose a different type of tree, one that is stronger, grows faster, and is less attractive to bugs that can harm or possibly destroy it.

I’m still learning to cut down and let go of some of the trees in my life. I’m learning as I let go of one tree, I can wrap my arms around another.  This time I’ll look for a tree that flowers or one that attracts hummingbirds…two of my favorite things.

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

Revelation 22:14 – Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city.

There were about seventy people in attendance.  It took me less than a minute to realize it was going to be more of a sales push than a learning experience, but curiously had gotten best of me.  The introduction to the key-note speaker was dramatic.  This guy was introduced as a self-made multi-millionaire.  He owned multiple companies.  Apparently, he was a household name and world renown.  (I hadn’t heard of him, but what do I know?)  The only thing the intro was missing was a drum roll.  Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been one.  The introduction was full of hype for apparently the most successful man ever.

Mr. Wonderful came from the back of the room and made his entrance.  He looked great.  He had the whole business executive look going on with his beautiful blue suit, perfectly pressed white shirt, and dark pink tie.  He definitely knew how to dress to impress. He was a good-looking guy and carried himself well. 

Mr. W. was selling his services as a business coach, so it made perfect sense for him to appear successful. He talked about some of his businesses, one of which just so happened to be his personal clothing line.  He talked about his custom made, $2,000 suit.  He had personally picked out the fabric and had it made overseas.  He then turned around his $100 tie to show us the label, which proved his claims of ownership.  Yes, he was an icon of success.  However, there was something he didn’t know until one of the men in the second row told him. His zipper was down. 

We all laughed, and he continued.  He continued to sell to the room, doing his thing.  But every few minutes he checked his zipper.  He talked about the trips he took, and the expensive things he owned.  He showed us pictures of his home, and his cars, and the famous people he knew.  But that zipper.   It was a struggle. 

At some point, he talked about his $300 shoes and his crazy expensive watch.  But you know, I just wasn’t impressed.  To me, he was just a guy with a $2,000 suit that had a faulty zipper. 

My point is this.  We’re not perfect.  None of us are.  I don’t want my faults to be a distraction to the message I’m trying to deliver.  I want to walk the talk and be a living example of what I believe. 

If I’ve got a broken zipper, it’s time to fix the zipper or wear a different suit. 

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

This I say for your own benefit; not to put a restraint upon you, but to promote what is appropriate and to secure undistracted devotion to the Lord.  – 1 Corinthians 7:35

I have a salsa issue. Yep, you read it correctly, no need to go back. I have a serious salsa issue. We’re not talking about the spicy music kind of salsa here; we’re talking about the throw a bunch of stuff into a food processor, hit the button and voilà, the great eats kind of salsa.

Let’s go back in time a little. About a lifetime ago, I remember bringing my two very young children over to a friend’s house, which we often did as I recall. It was another famous Randy and Tammie get-together. We would hang out, enjoy each other’s company, play some games, and of course, enjoy whatever food we all happened to put on the counter as we walked in.

A memory that’s deeply ingrained in my memory is that of Randy standing behind the counter next to his little food processor. He’d toss some ingredients into the machine, let it spin for a minute or two, and every time he hit the stop button some magical concoction flowed from it. I thought Randy was the Wiz-Kid-Chip-Dip-King. No one could make better dips than Randy. I was a fan. He never whipped up the same thing twice, and every time it was fantastic.

Time went on, Randy and Tammie moved away, kids grew up, and life as we knew it morphed into something different. About ten years later, I had the privilege of being invited to Randy and Tammie’s new home for dinner. True to form, out came Randy’s food processor. In a moment’s time, we were feasting on some type of appetizer to die for. I was still a fan.

For seventeen years, every time I’d walked by a food processor I’d wanted one. However, I never seemed to buy one and bring it home. Randy had made it look so easy. All he did was toss in some stuff he happened to have ln the counter and push a button, instant yum. How hard could it be? So, one day, I did it. I was wandering through Wal-Mart, and I put one of those crazy machines in my cart. I’d waited long enough to make my own savory salsa or decadent dip. Minutes after I got home, I jumped on the internet and found a salsa recipe. I ran to the grocery store, got everything on my list, and headed back home to whip up a dip to make Randy proud. I put all the stuff in the processor and pushed the button. At this point, I was so excited I could hardly open the chip bag.

To my disappointment, my salsa was horrible. It was definitely not chip worthy.  I’m not saying it was bad in just a bad sort of way; it was bad in an awful sort of way. My daughter took one taste and spit it in the sink. That was strike one. Yes, there’s more. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say it was the same song, second (and third) verse, a whole lot louder, but not much worse. My poor daughter. 

I suddenly realized there was much more going on than met the eye. After three failed attempts, I determined Randy must have owned a magic food processor. This was the only possible answer. It made perfect sense at this point. It didn’t matter what he threw in the machine. It always, magically, created a masterpiece. This excuse also lightened my burden of failing to produce something edible for my salsa hungry seventeen-year-old daughter who was anxiously waiting for something fabulous.  After my third attempt, I sent Randy and Tammie a letter asking for a referral.

All joking aside, I finally did figure out Randy’s real magic. It was his experience, and knowledge. It was the time and effort Randy had spent in the kitchen learning to cook and learning to operate his little food processor that made his dip gift look so easy. He didn’t just wake up, dig through his refrigerator, and end up with a blue-ribbon creation. And those ingredients on his counter when I walked into his kitchen didn’t just happen to be there. They were there because he knew exactly what he was doing.  Randy’s superb culinary skills in action created those mouth-watering masterpieces.  He’d done the job a thousand times, or variations of it. He had spent time building a foundation of knowledge to determine what would work and what would not.

We can be so hard on ourselves, so critical, and so impatient when starting a new adventure. We decide we’re going to try something new, but we expect to be an expert immediately.

Our lives are like that cool little food processor. I hate to say it, but the saying, “garbage in – garbage out” is correct. Christians beware, be diligent, be patient, and be faithful. Don’t throw a bunch of junk in the blender and expect a perfect outcome. Do your homework. It’s not the blender; it’s what we’re throwing into it that makes all the difference.

This is what going to church, Sunday school, and small groups are all about. We need to build our knowledge by studying God’s word and learn by the examples of Godly people. We need to fill our minds with God’s instructions, warnings, and promises. Knowledge of Christ is incredibility powerful.

I know we’ve heard this verse a million times, but it’s still one of my favorites.

“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. Whatever you have learned, or received, or heard from me, or seen in me, put it into practice, and the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 4:8-9.

If you don’t know which pepper is the hot pepper, you are most likely going to get burned.

Wishing you joy and peace,

 Lorrie

Have you ever had a songworm, otherwise known as an earworm? You know, it’s when you hear a catchy piece of music that continually repeats through your mind after it’s no longer playing. If you haven’t, consider yourself lucky. It can drive you nuts. 

The song will spin around and around relentlessly, like a broken record. You find yourself singing it under your breath, whistling the tune, or tapping the rhythm out on the table in front of you. Believe me; I’ve had many a sleepless night because I simply could not turn down the volume in my head. 

There is no known cure for a songworm. However, there are a couple of things that might serve as treatment. You can try replacing one worm with another. Although, this way you still have something crawling around in your brain, driving you crazy. My favorite treatment is to pass your worm on to another. They say misery loves company, right? At least you have someone to share your pain, and the cool thing is you have someone to sing with. 

 I have a very dear friend who has a serious songworm issue. The girl is always singing. She’s basically a live version of the old game show, “Name that Tune.” She gets a song in her head, a songworm, and before I know it, I get sucked in. Whatever I’ve got rattling around in my head changes, and I find I’m singing her song with her. Her joy is contagious. We end up creating a fantastic duet that could make us millions. Well ok, we may be the only ones that think it’s fantastic, but that’s not my point. Just as a songworm can be contagious, so can our joy. 

I know our world can be filled with so much of the hard stuff that we often don’t hear the joyful songs. But the good news is, whatever is playing in our heads can be replaced. There is still much joy to be found.

John 16:24 says, “Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.”

We can easily miss the joyful song of God if something else is playing in our head.

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

I had just boarded a plane for a flight from Washington DC to Los Angeles. We had assigned seats, so it wasn’t too chaotic. My group was called, and we marched on the plane in a perfect single-file line to find our seats. As someone with claustrophobia, I wasn’t thrilled to have a middle seat for the flight, but I could deal with it. I found my place, squeezed past the man sitting in the aisle seat, and sat down.

Watching people load an aircraft is one of the best people-watching opportunities ever. It’s easy to tell the seasoned travelers from the newbies. Some walk down the aisle as if it’s their personal catwalk, and others look absolutely terrified by the entire experience. There are people of every age, shape, and size. Some are super conservative and others…well not so much.

The man sitting next to me, by the window on my right, had already checked out. He had headphones on and was typing away on his laptop as if the world was going to end if he didn’t get whatever he was working on done before the plane took off. Maybe it would, who knew? He never said a word the entire flight. The man on my left, in the aisle seat, had his head down and was completely focused on his phone.

I watched as a few more people filed by, but then a young woman caught my eye as she stopped to sit in the row in front of us. Before she took her seat, she located a spot in the bin above to stash away her carry-on bag. She tried to lift her bag above her head and place it in the compartment, but she was all of about five foot two and was seriously struggling. I’ll give her credit for giving it her all, but she just couldn’t do it. As she struggled, the passengers behind her were waiting to get to their seats. They were getting impatient.

I watched her struggle for a minute and realized she wasn’t going to get it done on her own. It was killing me. If I were sitting on the aisle, I could simply stand up and help her. But I was trapped in that doggone middle seat. Was I the only one that could see her? Here we were, in a plane filled with people, and no one thought to help. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I gently said, “Could someone please help her?” It wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t rude or obnoxious. It also wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. It was quite obvious I was in no position, literally, to help her.

The guy next to me looked up from his phone like someone had pinched him. He jumped to his feet, all six-foot-something of him. With little to no effort, he easily put her bag in the overhead compartment. She was beyond grateful. As our eyes met, I saw she was obviously relieved as she took her seat in the row in front of us as quickly as she was able.

When my row-mate sat back down, he looked at me and said, “I feel like a total jerk.”

I don’t remember his name, but we chatted quite a bit during the five-hour flight. He was smart, personable, and seemed like a very nice guy. He truly felt horrible that he had been so unaware. When we landed, he made sure to get the bag back down without hesitation.

I get it. Sometimes we simply want to put our heads down or plug our ears and disappear.
However, we seem to have stopped paying attention to the lives around us. We all know we’re living in a world with too many distractions. But what if at the very moment we choose to check out we miss a chance to make a difference in someone’s life? Are we missing opportunities where we can be an example of what God’s love looks like?

Galatians 6:2 tells us to carry each other’s burdens, and in this way we will fulfill the law of Christ. Hebrews 13:16 tells us to not forget to do good and to share with others for with such sacrifices God is pleased.

Let’s try to reengage. I don’t want to feel like a total jerk.

Wishing you joy and peace,

 Lorrie

Working alone in a one-person office had many benefits. There was no office politics, no gossip, and no boss breathing down my neck. When I accepted the position, my only concern was that I might be a bit lonely. I’d always been a part of the fast-paced corporate world, so in all my years of employment I had never worked alone. I’m a peace-seeker by nature, so it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with the quiet.   I found if I hit the coffee shop first thing in the morning on my way to the office, my need for human interaction could be filled with a few simple words exchanged between myself and the barista.

The complex where I worked contained only four units, side by side. My office, unit A, was closest to the street.   My office was the corner office, with two windows, one facing the street and one facing the parking lot. I would open the blinds to let the sun in as I worked. I could hear traffic noise, but I could also hear the birds chirping and singing. Every once in a while, I would stop working, look out my window, and try to find the birds by following their beautiful voices.

One day, in early February, I noticed a couple of sparrows busily gathering twigs and grass for a nest they were building in the eves outside my window. I watched them as they diligently pushed the sticks and leaves into the corner. I was amazed at how hard they worked to get the job done. As time went on, I could hear baby chicks chirping in the nest as Mom and Dad gathered food for them and provided for their needs. As summer approached, the nest grew quiet. The chicks had grown and were off on their own. 

The nest was left in the eve, per my request to the property manager. No one could see it, and I had hoped the sparrows would return the following Spring. To my delight, they came back. I again watched them as they followed the natural progression of nature. By late summer the nest had grown still, just as the year before.

The next February, I found myself looking out my window to see if there was any activity around the nest. The month came and went with no sparrows. Every time I walked in and out of my office door, I looked for them. Where were they? Finally, after I had decided they weren’t coming back that year, I saw them as I drove up to my office. According to my schedule, they were very late, but according to their schedule, they were right on time.

I was so excited to see them that I purchased a bird feeder. I made sure to buy the bird food designed for the sparrows. I filled the feeder and carefully hung the feeder outside my window. An hour later I was disappointed the sparrows had not found the feeder. I had gone to all the trouble to take care of them, and they just weren’t interested. 

The next morning, I examined the feeder when I got to work. It hadn’t been touched. There wasn’t a seed out of place, how disappointing. I could see the sparrows busily working on their nest just a few feet away, but they had no interest in the food that was literally at their doorstep. As I unlocked my door I had to wonder, how often does God answer my prayers and I completely miss his signs?  Does he ever get frustrated with me when he makes such an effort to guide and protect me and I ignore him?

Later that day, a slight movement caught my attention. I slowly raised my head to see the sparrows joyfully feeding at the birdfeeder. I again had to realize this world does not run on my clock or my scheduling.  There is no need for me to worry in the waiting, because God’s got it all under control.

Luke 12:7 says, “Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

God’s perfect timing is just that, perfect. His eye is on the sparrow…and I know He watches me.

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

It was my only day off that week, and it had been filled with too many errands and not enough fun. With almost no humidity, rare for Virginia in the summertime, the weather was perfect for a hike. It was getting late in the day, and I was feeling a little disappointed that I had missed a good hiking day. I’m not sure whose idea it was to take a night hike. Although hesitant, I agreed to go. My guess is the last time I’d been on a hike in the pitch dark was when I was a kid at summer camp. I figured, why not?

We grabbed bug spray and a couple of headlamps and headed for the trailhead. It was a state park, so I was sure parking wouldn’t be a problem. However, I hadn’t anticipated ours would be the ONLY car in the lot. That’s when I started to wonder if it was safe to be on the trail after sunset. What if we got lost? We could be wandering around for hours before daylight. I mentioned my concerns while trying to play down my anxiety, but I was assured this path was well-traveled and well-marked.  It was too dark for me to read the placard, but apparently it was an easy three-mile hike.   I had to take my friend’s word for it. 

After a couple of lessons on how to use the headlamp, off we went. By the way, until then I thought headlamps were kind of silly. They seemed to me that they were more inspector gadget kind of toys than something practical. You know, the sort of thing you purchase for a friend that has everything, or maybe something the nerdy kid at camp has tucked away in her sleeping bag so she can read her bug book after it’s time for lights out. But having my hands flashlight free while walking in the pitch dark was pretty fun. I quickly changed my opinion. 

I was nervous, apprehensive, and a little scared. But I was also invigorated and felt more tuned in to my surroundings and to the experience than I thought was possible. There was zero moonlight, and the cloud cover blocked any starlight. It was pitch black. I had only one beam of light to follow, which shone on the path about two steps ahead of me. I had no peripheral sight or hindsight. I also found my senses were super heightened. It was like I had bionic hearing. I swear I could hear a single leaf drop.

About halfway through the hike, we heard a noise off to our left. We froze in our tracks, not saying a word. The rustling was close and getting closer. I’m not embarrassed to admit I was terrified. We slowly turned our heads towards the sound. As our lights moved from the trail in front of us to the woods on our left, there stood the most beautiful, full-grown, deer. She was right next to us, and she seemed huge. Had I reached out my left arm, I could have touched her. For a moment, time stood still as she looked at us and we looked at her. She then slowly crossed the path in front of us and disappeared into the woods off to our right.

What if the same thing had happened on a beautiful morning hike? There would have been the same rustling, and the same deer. We would have frozen in our tracks, and she would have walked right in front of us. But the experience would not have been as spectacular as what we experienced. We were dependent on our headlights to see what was going on. However, in the light of the day, we would not have been dependent at all. 

Maybe that’s the lesson here.  God is always teaching us things in ways we do not expect. He is the master of presentation. 

Fear is a funny thing. We fear what we do not see. Many of us fear our paths ahead because we cannot see them. But God is our headlamp. We should be dependent on him to shed light on whatever it is we need to see.  

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. – Psalm 119:105

It was time for lunch in beautiful downtown Fredericksburg.  I was working, completely oblivious to the time. Often my growling stomach is the only thing that can make me break focus, get my eyes off my computer, and get me away from my desk. When the weather was nice, I would take my lunch break by walking to get a sandwich at the historic sandwich shop on the corner a couple of blocks away from my office.

The walk to the corner was uneventful.  However, after I got my lunch and was headed back, I was startled by movement in my peripheral vision.

 I’d lived in Virginia for a few years at this point, but I could still be surprised by the east coast critters.  I hadn’t yet seen a “live” raccoon.  Yes, sadly I’d seen evidence of the animals on the road and heard some very entertaining stories about the little rascals, but I had not witnessed one firsthand.

The parking lot of my office backed up against the Rappahannock River.  Unless there was an exceptional amount of rain and the river was running high, there was an embankment directly behind the parking lot leading down to the river.  That side of the parking lot had a sidewalk, curb, gutter, and an open storm drain built into the curb to drain excess water runoff from the parking lot.

There, in the opening of the storm drain, was a raccoon.  Although his body was inside the drain, his head, shoulders, arms, and hands were poking through.  He had a square, styrofoam, “to-go” box in his hands that he was trying to pull into the opening with him.   The box, as he held it in a vertical position, was slightly too large to fit into the gutter opening. I stood there for about five minutes watching him as he tried to get the container through the hole. In fact, while I stood there watching him, a woman and her son, as well as a couple more pedestrians, stopped to watch. 

All Mr. Racoon needed to do was set the box down flat and scoot it in, but he kept trying and trying to do it his way, the way that didn’t work.  The raccoon tugged, pulled, crunched, and crushed that box until he finally got the box into the opening.  However, by the time he had it inside the drain with him, the box was utterly destroyed. Whatever food it had held was now scattered everywhere. 

I can see myself in that raccoon.  I will be the first to admit that my way isn’t always the best way. Sometimes all I need to do is put the problem down for a minute to find the problem might not be as difficult as I initially thought. I can be so laser-focused on solving a problem my way that I can be blinded to a much more obvious solution, a solution that might actually work better and get a better result. 

When I was young and trying to figure out something “important,” my mom would tell me to sleep on it because things always looked better in the morning.  That was her way of telling me to put the box down for a minute and look at it with fresh eyes.  Great advice.  Too bad I don’t speak raccoon.

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

James 1:5 – But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him.

Philippians 4:6 – Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.