The New Website is Finally Here...Sorta

If you've ever had a child, you know how the excitement and anticipation of that first baby's arrival mounts as the due date draws near. By the time the baby comes, you're beyond ready. That's a little how I've felt about the new website. I've dreamed and planned and consulted and prayed. I've worked and reviewed and worked some more. Finally, it's here. Well, sorta.

It's not all finished, but it's close enough to let you have a peek and see what I've been working on so hard.

Blake Wages, of Mission Marketing, listened to my dreams, helped me verbalize the picture in my head, then designed and built the website. My part was dreaming, writing, casting vision, and loading most of the blog posts. I had the easy part.

Blake has to be the most patient human on earth. When my hair in the first landing photo looked awful, I did say, "Blake, I can't have a photo on the landing page with bad hair. We have to change it." He didn't roll his eyes. He didn't complain. He just changed it.

He didn't balk at all my "can't we do it this way?" questions. He didn't complain when I went into the webmaster controls and changed things on my own because I couldn't wait. 

Blake has been the hands and feet of Jesus to me as I've dreamed about how to make a more up-to-date website that will be attractive to readers of all ages. He's put as much energy and vision into this effort as I. We've strategized together about how to make it the kind of welcoming place you'd want to visit again and again. Blake is as much a part of this website as I am, and I'm grateful for his partnership. 

I hope we've achieved all we dreamed. 

The descriptions and instructions below may be a little over-the-top, but I want you to have a good experience when you visit my new home for the first time. 

On the landing page, you'll see my photo and a welcome. (the screen shot above) If you scroll down a little, you'll see the most recent blog posts. They'll look a little different than my current blog, because you'll click on the photo rather than a title. The display is dynamic, so you'll get a fresh choice if you don't click right away. 

At the bottom of that page, you'll be able to sign up for my email newsletter. This will be a twice a month email to update you on my ministry, the website, new books, and freebies to download. 

I won't share or sell your email addresses. I wouldn't want anyone to do that with mine, so I won't do it with yours. 

We plan to offer some coupon codes from time to time, but I don't know how to do it yet and I'm counting on Blake to handle that project. 

You can move to the next page from the top or the bottom of the page.

The second page is the blog. I've limited the "topic tags" to faith, life, culture, and disciple life because they fit most of my posts. Pretty soon, there will be a "lagniappe" tag. (Lagniappe means "a little something extra") That's where you'll find the "new" blog. (I'll let you know when I do the first post.)

All the posts from 2018 are here, and a few from previous years. You can switch from one page to the next below the photos by clicking on the numbers.

There's a mailing list sign-up at the bottom of the page. It's for the BLOG sign up by email. We don't have that working yet, but we will. If you're signed up for the current blog by email, we will move your email address and you'll still get the blog. That may take a few weeks. Until then, you'll get it the same as always. 

The new website allows you to comment directly when you read the blog. You don't have to sign in to Google to comment. I hope you'll comment often because I'm looking forward to replying to your comments and having conversations about the posts.

You'll find social media icons beneath every blog post so you can easily share the posts. I hope you'll do more than share on Facebook. Share to Pinterest, Twitter, Google Plus, Xing, and Linked In, as well. 

Why does this matter? Because every share gives someone else the opportunity to see what God is doing here, and to learn more about discipleship and how to live the Christian life. Your share might be a part of a divine appointment for someone who's looking for a fresh start or more information about faith in Jesus.

The third page is an "about me" page. Scroll down and you'll see more photos and a little bit about my journey.

Page four is a little tricky. When you hover over "get involved" at the top, the about page will keep scrolling until you make a selection from the drop down menu. 

The "Prayer" option will allow you to learn of something I'm praying about and join with me in intercession. This week, I'm praying over a heartbreaking situation that occurred recently in Africa. I need your help.

If you choose "contact" you can contact me via an email message. Soon, we'll have a volunteer option, too, and you can choose from several opportunities to help out with prayer and outreach, as well as help at Global Outreach Home Office. 

We'll also have an upcoming events option and you can find out how to sign up for retreats, join me when I speak, and participate in prayer events and our coming-soon virtual prayer walks. 

The last page is an online store. You can buy books and find freebies to download. We have a free printable or two ready and they'll be available later this week. I hope we'll have some other cool things on there before long. Handmade greeting cards, t-shirts, etc are all in the works. The money from sales will be used to support my ministry efforts. 

There's a link to purchase the new James study. It's only $3.99 on Amazon. You can take a peek on Amazon. I hope you'll consider buying it. (Thanks in advance!) 

Before long, you'll probably see an ad or two and some affiliate links. I'll use those judiciously, again with the hope of supporting ministry efforts with the funds they produce. 

Please bear with me as I make these transitions. Both the website, and the efforts to support the ministry in this new way are works in progress and significant leaps of faith for me.

Our labor of love is just a tiny baby right now. We expect to have it a little more "mature" over the next week or so, and to continue to grow for years to come. The goal isn't a cool website. The goal is to spread the gospel throughout the world, including to the billions of people in the digital world. 

This is Great Commission work, but we'll have to do it together to get it done. 

Just this past week, I wrote, you shared, and God brought people from Australia, Brazil, Canada, France, Germany, India, Jordan, Netherlands, Poland, Spain, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, and United Kingdom to the website. We've reached the world together, but let's not stop now. There's plenty of work left to do.

With all that said, are you ready to view my new web-baby? I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Here's the link: www.leannahollis.com 

"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28:19-20 niv

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In case you missed yesterday's post, here's the link: Sliding Down the Slippery Slope and How to Stop the Descent

Living in the Shadow of the Cross and Loving Our Enemies

It's hard to tell this story without going into the specifics, but there's no need to dredge the past up again, so please bear with me. 

More than a decade ago, I went through a terrible time. Two people, in particular, plus a third who helped in the gouging of my heart, had the greatest role in that awfulness and, for a time, I considered them all my enemies. 

What does the Bible say about enemies? 

...Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you..." Luke 6:27-28 nasb

"repay evil with blessing..." 1 Peter 3:9 

"...love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you." Matthew 5:44

Those passages are perfectly clear. When we, disciples of Jesus, have an "enemy," we are to pray, bless, and love them. This behavior is not optional. It's what disciples of Christ are supposed to do, so I did it. There was nothing amazing or saintly in my decision to obey. It was simple Christian living.

Not to love my enemies, or bless them, or pray for them would've been disobedience to the command of Jesus. It would've been sin, whether I felt justified in my anger or not. 

Disobedience to a hard command is sin. We don't like to hear those words, but they're true. 

In the first few hours of that devastating darkness, I sank to my face on my prayer room floor and spoke words of blessing toward all involved. I didn't feel it, and both God and I knew it, but I did it as an act of surrender and obedience.  I prayed that same prayer over and over again. It took a long time to "mean it" when I prayed, but that effort in persevering prayer changed everything.

The situation didn't resolve in the way I'd hoped, but God did a work in my relationship with one of the people, and, over the years, with another one of them.

Yesterday, I was in a business meeting with one of the three former-enemy people, who's doing some work for me. I had to call another person in the trio about the outcome of the meeting. 

"What's up with this? Is he helping you?" the second person asked.

"Yeah. He's a great guy."

"Are you kidding me? He was against you."

I laughed. "Yeah, well, look at all you did, but I forgave you. I'm big on forgiveness, you know. We forgave each other and we love each other now. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him, and nothing he wouldn't do for me." 

My former enemy was aghast. "Really?"

"Yep. This is what forgiving and loving your enemies look like. They become your friends. This is how I treat you, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah..."

There is no way to communicate how horrible the situation was. I was absolutely devastated by it. More than a decade later, though, I can look back and laugh. God did a powerful work in me, and in the other people involved, as well. 

I've never even met the third person in the trio, and I don't particularly want to, but I'd be fine if I did. That's how a healed wound works. It doesn't hurt anymore.

All that blessing and praying and loving was worth it, even though I didn't want to do it at the time. 

When we live in the shadow of the cross, we must allow it to determine how we live, how we respond to trouble, how we treat our enemies. Jesus set an example we are to follow. 

What about loving our enemies is optional? Nothing.

Why love our enemies when the world says don't? Because Jesus commanded love. 

When I was face down on the prayer room floor, my reality was pain, hurt, fear, anger. I couldn't imagine the future we all have today, but Jesus could. I didn't have to envision it, plan for it, or anticipate such a glorious outcome. All that was required to gain the love we share today was one tiny act of obedience at all time. 

If we're reeling from the betrayal or hurt of another person, we have two options. Respond as the world responds or respond as Jesus said. Only one of those choices brings blessing. Only one brings the healing that turns enemies into dear, much-loved friends somewhere in the future. 

Which will we choose? It's a decision that can change the future is ways we cannot begin to imagine, so let's choose obedience. Choose love, blessings, prayer, and let God use our efforts to do a work only He can do. 

Loving as Christ loves is always the right decision. 

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When I Couldn't Tell if I'd Achieved My Goal or Not

When I Couldn't Tell If I'd Achieved My Goal or Not

Friends arrive today from abroad for an extended stay. I decided to prepare a welcome meal for tomorrow. The goal was to cook food that seemed familiar, a little touch of home. The problem, of course, was that I didn't know how to cook the way they cook "back home." I don't have their knack with spices or the exact flavor combinations in my skill set.

Nevertheless, I assumed a Google search would be sufficient, and plunged ahead.

Yesterday, I prepped two eggplants to make baba gahnoush, a smooth, creamy eggplant dip. I'd eaten this dish numerous times, but I'd never prepared it before. No problem, I thought. I bought two eggplants and some tahini sauce and downloaded a recipe.

Just to be sure of my goal, I bought a small container of baba gahnoush from the grocery. It tasted like bad Ranch dressing. Mislabeled, I decided, discarded it, and went to work.

I sliced the eggplants, put them cut-side down in my cast iron skillet, and stuck them under the broiler until the skin bubbled up and started to turn black. As the recipe said, I removed them from the skillet and set them aside to cool. 

Perfect progress, it seemed, as I peeled the skin off. That's when things started to get interesting. The recipe clearly stated that the eggplant should be mashed with a fork, which seemed crazy because it was so stringy. 

I put it in the bowl of my stand mixer, instead. I'm not saying the stand mixer was the problem, just that it's the place my path and the recipe parted ways. First, my recipe called for one eggplant. I used two, so I doubled all the ingredients, but forgot the salt, mainly because I'm on a low-salt diet. I wasn't sure what to do with the eggplant seeds, so I left them. I mixed the glob of goo with the paddle until it was mostly smooth. 

It was a gray mess, which made me think of gray matter in the brain, and pretty much grossed me out. I tasted it with trepidation, the thought of eating brain still in my head. It tasted terrible. That's when I started improvising. 

I added some salt, extra cumin, more lemon juice. Nothing helped. I gathered a variety of recipes and pulled from all of them. One listed red pepper in the ingredients, so I gave the cayenne a hearty shake. 

I wasn't sure about the texture. I couldn't decide what taste I needed to achieve. Finally, I gave the concoction another whirl with the mixer, called it baba gahnoush, and put it in a container.

I don't know if I made baba gahnoush or not.

The problem wasn't my enthusiasm for the task, nor my dedication. The problem was an uncertain goal. I wanted baba gahnoush, but my culinary memory didn't extend far enough for me to know how it looked nor how it tasted. I needed an experienced guide.

As I've pondered that bowl of eggplant dip (which may or may not be baba gahnoush), I've realized the life of a disciple is a lot like my cooking efforts. Living like Jesus intended is impossible if we don't know what it's supposed to look like, to feel like, to be like.

That's what the authors of the New Testament hoped to show us through their words and lives. When Paul said, "do what I do," it wasn't pride talking.  He wanted his readers to understand one truth. "This is how the Christian life looks. Do it this way." 

I don't want his shipwrecks, prison bars, or chains, but I'd sure like to have the power Paul had. His writings are filled with absolute abandon and reckless surrender. He was all-in for Christ, no matter the cost.

Paul wasn't a pew-sitter. He was a world-changer, and THAT is our pattern. He told everyone who would listen about the One who changed his life. He pressed on, no matter what happened. He lived what he taught.

If we want the power of God that Paul had, we'll have to walk the path Paul walked, all-in, faith-filled, perseverance. That's how we know we've achieved the life of a disciple.

Today, let's ask ourselves if we're living a life that's intended to be that of a disciple or if we're living the disciple life the first century writers tried to show us. Which do we want? Which does Jesus want us to have? 

If we need to make changes whether in priority, in thoughts, or in actions, let's look to Scripture for direction and do what it says. It's that easy. It's that hard. It's worth it.

"however, let us keep living by that same standard to which we have attained. Brethren, join in following my example, and observe those who walk according to the pattern you have in us...For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we eager wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ;" Philippians 3:16-17, 20 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Blood-of-Jesus Family Reunion

When We're Finally Sick of Our Own Sin and Decide to Let it Go

"The craziest things happen to you," someone said recently, and they were right. Strange things do happen. An eye problem none of my physicians had seen before. A chain that broke because it mysteriously developed rust in one single link. Cane poles that had been substituted for metal fence posts. A broken knife blade left by the front door. A water pipe that froze and blew off its cap, causing a Niagara-sized flood. 

If all the odd things "meant" anything, I didn't understand it, but I'd held on to the assumption that things would settle down soon. They always have. Yesterday, I left the office at noon with plans for a productive few hours. I expected to saw down some small trees in the pasture, study a writing text, start edits, clean house, wash clothes, take out the garbage, cook a real meal instead of eat leftovers.

Very little of that was done. One thing after another happened, some of it catastrophic, some my own fault, some so disappointing I sat on the floor and wept like a baby. 

In the dark night of my soul, I saw my own heart, and the bleak vision brought even more tears. I faced my sin, and I was horrified by the pride, critical spirit, and sense of perfectionism in me. God had removed it all, but I'd allowed a seedling of sin to blossom into a vile, choking weed. Again.

I want all the wickedness gone. You may wonder if attitudes that don't manifest in significant actions are "wickedness," but the answer is yes. Sin is always wickedness. There's nothing sweet or charming about it. 

I want to be perfect, even as my Father in Heaven is perfect, but I have a long way to go. Part of the job of disciples includes quick repentance and progressive growth toward a Christ-like heart. I know none of us will be perfect this side of heaven, but I'd like to be a good bit closer than I am. Wouldn't you? 

I repented. I wept before the Lord, confessed my sin, and asked for forgiveness.

He forgave me.

It was that simple, but it didn't seem like enough. I repented some more. I wept some more. I apologized over and over again. Maybe you've never had one of those "come to Jesus" moments, but they are soul-cleansing hard, and white-as-snow beautiful. 

This morning, I still felt bad about the darkness I'd found in my heart. "I don't feel forgiven, Lord. I feel far away. Snuggle me again, Shepherd of My Heart." 

Have you ever felt this before? 

I opened my Bible to John, and reviewed the verses I'm planting in my heart. Those beautiful words washed over me like the balm of Gilead.

"For of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace." John 1:16 nasb

Read those lovely words again, and ponder them with me. 

Forgiveness isn't given because of our feelings. It comes from the mercy and grace of God. He mercifully doesn't give us what we deserve. Instead, through grace, He gives us the forgiveness and cleaning we don't deserve. "And grace upon grace." He continues to give, every single time we need forgiveness. 

There was another passage that spoke to me in my despair and filled me with hope. 

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses." (2 Corinthians 10:3-4 nasb)

The weapon God has given us is powerful enough to demolish even the strongholds and fortresses in our own hearts. Our only offensive weapon is the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, and it's more than enough. 

The word of God can demolish all the lies we've embraced, all the strongholds we've allowed the enemy to claim. I saw that truth again this morning. It's only effective, however, if we know what it says and allow it to do it's beautiful work in our hearts. 

If we're tired of the load of sin we've been carrying, let's do something about it. Today, let's confess our sin and embrace the forgiveness only our loving, merciful, grace-filled Savior can give. Allow our faith to dictate to our feelings. We are loved, bought with a price, and washed white as snow. 

Let's live clean, because we are. 

"For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart." Hebrews 4:12
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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Why My Borders Need to Expand

You might also like: Demolishing Strongholds and Choosing to be Free

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

When Where You Arrive Is Not Where You Meant to Go

I've been super-busy preparing for the new website and the new blog. Everything will finally be in one place. You'll be able to go directly to the blog without social media links if you want, although those links will still be available. You'll be able to comment on the blog without signing in to Google or going back to a social media site, and I'll be able to easily reply.

There will also be a store with a variety of items for sale. One item I've worked on recently is the James Bible study. When I finished writing it, I posted it as a dropbox file for readers to download to their computers. What I quickly learned was that most of my readers use their phones or tablets to access the blog, not a computer. 

I tried converting to a series of six blog files, as well as to a print version, but neither worked well. Recently, I decided to do what I should've done all along. Make an e-book. 

As part of the preparation for uploading the file, I spent days reworking my document endnotes ("footnotes" placed at the end of the book instead of the bottom of the page). I went through every link to be sure it worked. I reread the text several times to check for errors. I studied James, and was kicked in the repenter again.

Once all that was done, I signed in to Amazon's easy create-a-book site and went to work. I designed a lovely cover, uploaded the photos and file, corrected formatting, and was almost ready to hit "publish" when I noticed something odd. There was nothing about e-books on the web page. 

I fretted with this for an absurdly long time before I realized a critical fact. I was on the site to publish print books, not e-books. 

I had gone to the wrong website and was seconds away from a book I didn't want. Where I meant to go was not where I'd arrived.

I backed out of the print site and went to the e-book prep site. An entirely different bit of formatting needed to be done. Because I work on a MAC, the e-book Table of Contents and internal links all had to be done by hand. It was way past bedtime when I finished last night.

The problem of arriving where I didn't intend to go was quickly solved by opening a new tab on my web browser. The problem of an eternal destination error is not as easily solved, however. 

Just as I had two publication options (print or e-book), we have two eternal destinations. Heaven or hell. We choose our destination in advance and, unlike publication options, once arrived, the choice cannot be undone. 

As James, the half-brother of Jesus, wrote, our faith is revealed by our works. Faith that isn't manifested by works is dead. In other words, if our faith doesn't change us and make us more like Jesus, we need to consider whether we have saving faith or not. 

Those are hard words, but they come straight from Scripture. I'd soften them a bit and wrap them in flowery prose. James does not. He'd rather offend and save a soul than cushion someone in comfortable words that usher them straight to hell.

James urged those to whom he wrote to examine their faith. We'd be wise to do the same. To what kind of faith do our works give evidence? Is Christ clearly seen in our words, our actions, our deeds? 

If all we do is sit on a pew once a week, can we, realistically, expect that kind of faith to take us to heaven? According to James, it's life-altering, behavior-changing faith that assures our eternity with Jesus, not attendance at a series of meetings, not matter how well-intended. 

If heaven's where we want to spent eternity, let's be sure that's where we're headed. None of us can enter God's home on our goodness alone. We're all sinners. It takes faith, covered by the grace of God, to enter Heaven.

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast." Ephesians 2:8-9 niv 
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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Importance of Mucking Out the Stalls
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

The Method in the Madness and Learning from the Land

A dear friend commented about yesterday's blog:

"I remember reading about the frigid temperatures of the past and thinking, 'Why doesn't she just sell those farm animals, freeing herself of all that work?' Hauling water by wagon to those animals was beyond me. But, through the years, I've learned that's part of who you are."

Many people feel the same way about my animals. Yes. I know I could have an easier life if I sold whatever is causing my current challenge. Easier, however, does not always mean a richer life.

I didn't grow up with livestock or horses, but there was always a picture in my head of black and white cows on rich, green pastures. When I arrived at the farm for the first time to "take a look," I saw the picture in my head in living color, alive and breathing in the field. 

I was home.

Within a few months, I had a farm, chickens, guineas, a horse, and a farm hand, Sam. Toby (pictured above), now 30+ years old, was my first horse. He taught me to ride and jump ditches. He quieted my fears. Once a week, I rode across the land on horseback to check fences and pastures. I soon bought a second horse, and Sam rode along. Those were some of the sweetest days of my life.

Before long, I had cows, a bull, and calves. I love cows, and their slow, gentle meandering. I love to see their babies running and playing in the fields. 

I sold my cows a few years ago, and I've regretted that decision many times. I'm not ready to tie myself down to cattle again, but I miss them.

My husband left the animals to me most of the time, but Ryan loved them as much as I did. The year he learned to ride the horse alone, he spent most of the summer riding. I took sandwiches to him so he could eat lunch on horseback.  He and Toby were inseparable. 

Ryan joined 4-H and our fun really began. He showed cows, horses, goats, and pigs. It was a wonderful time of life, and we both grew up in many ways during those years. He still rides the horses in pretty weather when he's home. 

What I seldom talk about is the picture that's still in my head. Long before I came to the farm, I envisioned a place where women could come to retreat for a day or two, get exercise taking care of small animals, and learn about health, and life, and faith. I envisioned families coming to camp in tents, long before "glamping" was a word.

The picture's still in my head, a vision yet unfulfilled. The animals are a part of who I am, but they're also a part of what I still expect to do, one day in the not-too-distant future.

Part of that vision is already a virtual/digital reality, as you share my adventures through the words I write. Selling the last of the animals and leaving the farm would mean giving up my dream. One day, I believe it will be an actual reality.

I'm willing to wait. 

I recognize that the life I've chosen is not the life most women want, and that many people can't understand. For me, this life is not just a choice, it's who I am. 

I see God in the animals, the azaleas Sam and I planted, the lake, the fish, and the grass in the pasture. I see God here, and that means everything to me. It's my refuge, but it's also a place of worship for me. 

There's nothing holy about my land, but holiness begins to happen here, because I leave the noise of the world behind and focus on Him. I'm refined here. I sort out the issues of the day here, and there's no where else on this earth that happens with such depth and efficiency. 

I'm never closer to God than right here on this farm. I commune with Him as I muck out stalls, feed horses, and haul water. What's more precious than that? Nothing.

In 1989, God placed me on this land. He put the dreams in my heart, and He's made some of them a reality. I love this life, with all its challenges and hardships. I don't have the kind of life many of my friends have, but, to me, I have so much more. The dream continues to unfold, and, as long as God allows, I'm hanging on for the ride. 

It's the sweetest place I know. 

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4 esv

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Frost-Proof Faucet in the Box and the Blessing of Second Chances

The photo above is my first photo of the farm and was taken on a walk over the land with Sam and my banker-friend, Steve Taylor, when I was exploring the option of buying my property.

Wonder Dogs, Closing the Park, and Enjoying the Journey

 

Maggie the Wonder Dog and Mamie the Apprentice Wonder Puppy

The Wonder Dogs are exceptionally smart and have an extensive vocabulary. Like most dogs, they know the typical words such as treat, go, sit and stay. The Wonder Girls know phrases, as well. There were two phrases that used to send them into frenzies of delight. Open the park. Close the park. 

When I was an alderwoman in Blue Springs, part of my job was opening and closing the park on my assigned day. One night, I casually mentioned to the girls that I needed to close the park. "We'll leave at 6:30," I told them. 

They couldn't have been more excited about filet mignon. They ran in circles, panting and racing as fast as they could go. They ran down the stairs and back up. Up and down the hallway. Around and around in my bedroom.

At last, I said, "Okay, do you want to leave now?" 

Yes. They did. Both girls raced to the door, then ran in circles until I could get downstairs. They were pumped. I opened the door and they were out of the house like a clown out of a cannon. Whoosh. They were at the car before I could close the front door.

It wasn't the park that delighted them. (Dogs, even Wonder Dogs, are not welcome in the park.) It was the trip to the park. They love to put their paws on the edge of the window, stretch as far as possible, hang their heads out, and let the wind plaster their ears and fur against their heads. Mouths wide open, heads up, they are in heaven.

It sounds dangerous, but the Wonder Girls know they're safe, because I hold them tight. They can reach as far as they want, because I have them, held tight in a no-slip grip.

They love the journey, and any journey will do as long as they're with me.

As I watched them in a wind-induced ecstasy, I realized they experience the journey with an abandon usually absent in my life. My tendency, like many of us, is to focus on the destination. I keep the goal in sight and head toward it with dogged determination.

I wonder, though, if I might not enjoy my journey through life a bit more if I could experience it with the abandon of the Wonder Girls. 

Perhaps focusing less on the needs of the day and more on the experience of the journey would bring the kind of abandon so common to Maggie and Mamie, as well as the joy.

They don't worry about a thing. They know they can count on me to provide for them. With worry out of the way, they're free to enjoy every minute, every day.

How much more should we, who serve a faithful, generous God, enjoy life? How much more should we focus on the journey, relishing the adventures God allows into our lives, without worry or fear? 

It was Jesus Himself who told us, "For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Do not worry then... But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself..." 

                                                                                                         Matthew 6: 25, 31, 33 NASB

Let's trust God to meet our needs. Enjoy the day He's given us.  Embrace life with abandon. Stand on tip-toe, stretch as far as we can reach to experience everything God has planned. 

Let's live with joy for we, too, are held tight in God's no-slip grip.
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In case you missed yesterday's post, here's the link: The Black Friday Special that Changed History 

 #havefaithinGod

When Normal Isn't Normal Anymore

For twenty-eight years, Sam was in and out of my house all day long. In the early years, he did everything for me. He took care of the farm and livestock, bush hogged, mowed the grass, changed light bulbs, took out my garbage, and got the mail out of my mail box. My newspaper was by the coffeepot when I went downstairs in the morning.

Sam literally did everything. He made my life possible.

I didn't hesitate when I bought a high-maintenance dog, because I knew he would walk Maggie three or four times a day while I was at work. He'd take care of her and Mamie (my second high-maintance dog) when I went out of town. 

He slowed down over the last few years. By early summer, Sam could no longer walk the dogs. By July, he couldn't get Ensure out of the refrigerator, but he could still answer questions about how to do things. 

Now, he's gone and I'm trying to figure out how to do things for myself. 

It's strange and feels as if my life has been turned upside down. I've never locked my doors because I knew Sam would be in and out repeatedly. Now, I'm diligent about the deadbolts and the chain locks. I'm looking at security systems, considering electronic gates. 

Because Sam was in and out all day long, I was always fully dressed. I've never had a "pajama day" or changed into pj's early. This past Sunday, it was cold and I was tired. I thought about getting ready for bed early but hesitated because of Sam. It hit me like a brick. Sam wouldn't be coming over. I changed into sleep pants and a t-shirt just after 5 pm, but it felt strange and oddly wrong.

Last night, it was dark when I turned into my driveway after church. A light was on in "Sam's house." For an instant, I thought, "Sam's still up." Just as quickly, I remembered. I'd left the light on myself.

My normal's been disrupted. I'm looking for the new normal, but I haven't found it yet. 

I've told myself this isn't grief, but maybe it is. I don't wish Sam were back. He's in a much better place and he's no longer sick or suffering. I do, however, grieve the life I've lost. 

The life I knew isn't coming back. I keep reminding myself of this, and that I need to figure it out. I know it will take more than a week to find normal again, and it won't be the same. As much as I hate to admit it, the old life is gone for good.

A new life is coming, and it's going to be good, too. I feel fragile and weak and uncertain right now. Six months from now, I'll have learned to bush hog, ground the leaves, made it through a winter on my own, and (hopefully) kept the pipes from freezing and the animals fed and watered. 

A year from now, I'll feel safe again. 

Today, though, I'm hanging on to the truth I know. My faith never rested in Sam, although I depended on him for so much. My faith is in God alone.

I'm not tough enough for this new place in life, but My God is more than able. I read the words of Paul this morning and grabbed on to them. 

"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.'" Most gladly therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.'" 2 Corinthians 12:9 nasb

I'm not to the "boasting" part, but I have the weakness part down pat. For now, I'm counting on His power and looking forward to the day His power dwells in me.

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: A Few Good Surprises

Caregiver Chronicles: Life After Sam

Someone asked me recently how Sam and I became connected. I hesitated. Finally, I said, "I don't want you to think bad of me, but I got Sam in a real estate transaction, but it's not as awful as it sounds." A moment of silence followed that revelation. 

In 1989, I bought a 120-acre farm in Union County. Sam had worked there for nearly thirty years and it was home to him. Neither he nor the owners wanted him to leave the land or the caretaker cottage in which he lived. Many people had looked at the farm, but no one wanted to make a long-term commitment to Sam, who was nearly 60 years old. 

I, on the other hand, had no idea how to take care of the farm. I needed Sam, so I agreed to let him stay. With that simple agreement, Sam became my responsibility for the rest of his life.

Sam did the work I couldn't do. He bush hogged, trimmed azaleas, shoed the horses, neutered calves, cleaned the fish we caught, built fences and repaired them. He did any job that needed doing, especially those jobs I didn't want to do, didn't know how to do, or wasn't strong enough to do.

And now. . . I still have the farm with bush hogging and trimming and cleaning and heavy work, but I don't have Sam. 

I've learned a lot over the years, of course. I learned to take the garbage out of the compactor, drive the tractor, build a fence, and use the tiller when Sam had the subdural and was in the hospital. I learned to clip the goats and trim their hooves when he broke his hip. I learned to trim the azaleas and garden for myself when he was sick with pneumonia. 

Yesterday, I needed to move something heavy and, for a split second, I thought about calling Sam. . . but he's with Jesus now. 

I sat down and cried. "Lord, how am I going to take care of myself without a Sam?" I prayed. 

That still, small voice spoke loud and clear. "I will help you." In that instant, I remembered all the answered prayers, all the times God had sent help at just the right moment, all the ways He's given me wisdom when I didn't know what to do. 

I'm in a new, Sam-less season, and I miss him, but God will provide, just like he always does. 

Last night, I finished cleaning the floor in the dining room that served as Sam's bedroom for the last few months. "Lord, I need to move my dining table back and it's too heavy for me. How am I going to get that done?" 

This morning, I found a message from a friend. "Do you need any help moving furniture back in place?" I laughed out loud. Yes, I do need help moving furniture! God has continued the work of providing for every need, just as He's always done.

This morning, I've found great encouragement in these words: "I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear. I will help you.'" Isaiah 41:13 And He will.

No matter what we face, we have a Heavenly Father who cares about every problem, ever need. If we face hard times and jobs that are too big for us, there's no need for despair. Instead, turn to the One who holds the universe in His hands, and holds us, too. Turn to the One who will never leave us or forsake us. Turn to our Father and let Him help you, just as He's promised. That's what I plan to do.

"I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear. I will help you.'" Isaiah 41:13 
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In case you missed yesterday's post, here's the link: When Sam Couldn't Stay and I Had to Say Goodbye

Visitation for Sam Wiley is Friday, November 10th 12:30 to 2 pm with memorial service to follow in the choir room at Hope Church, Tupelo. 

In lieu of flowers, memorials can be made to "Sam Wiley Memorial Fund" by mailing your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put "Sam's Fund #5136" in the "for" line.