I had my photo and name on there for at least 2 years. Got involved for a short time and then decided it just wasn't "my" thing. Except for the occasional whip-through, or checking on someone specific, I simply didn't do it.
A couple weeks ago, the Lord reminded me of something. In the past, I wrote hundreds of letters a year.
In fact, I have a file cabinet drawer that is filled with letters to and from Uganda from 1989 to 1996 when Dave and I were very involved. In those days, faxing and phone calling was limited over there. Long-distance calls were generally expensive over here. Writing letters was the cheap way to go.
A few years ago, when postage stamp cost increased and emailing became the least expensive way to handle communication, as much as I didn't want this to become a no-option zone, it did. Now, I rarely send a letter unless I know the person doesn't have access to a computer and I don't have their phone number.
As a consequence, I also stopped being a true communicator. I used to write really good letters, long with lots of info and lots of good stories in the mix. Emails weren't quite the same. Mostly catch-up and boring or questions; not much of what I consider "sweetness and light".
And to me, FB was MORE than the same when it came to that.
Well, when the Lord laid it on me a few days ago, the reason was because I must return to a lifestyle that is heavily involved in communication. I needed to set aside my eye-rolling attitude, to try to connect and reconnect with friends and family. To start reading FB bits and pieces several times a day, make comments and keep these people in my heart every day, not just floating in the back of my mind, since I hadn't heard from or seen them for months or years.
So, in this short time, between reading blog posts more faithfully and reading FB, I've buried myself onto my computer. The result? I've enjoyed communication, have been able to stick my own thoughts and events out, and I've gained more and more than I ever expected I'd lose.
The Lord is so kind to push buttons and move us forward when we simply haven't desired to go a certain way. I'm grateful that He did. I hope more and more doors will open and the results will reveal His purpose.
Some of the bloggers I've been paying attention to are also the reason I'm taking this FB time. I truly respect them and their life-focus. If they can see the value of FB-ing, then I most certainly should be able to "grow up" in that new phase of life -- and quit digging in my heels so I don't have to move forward.
OK. I know this will seem a bit intense, but that would describe my personality. Please just put up with it.
I have occasionally described our cultural change to people without describing it as simply a different form of secular activity.
When I was a kid, mostly back in the '50s and '60s, our family was one of the most "secular" anyone could have imagined. When, within our home, foul language and violence and other horrific behavior occurred, it did NOT fit into our society. What helped me see the other side was school. The principals and teachers usually set the rules very clearly. For instance, I couldn't hit other kids and scream, which was common at home. I couldn't cuss or tell dirty jokes. I wouldn't be accepted when acting in that fashion.
I came to the Lord when I was 20. To that point, in 1966, my lifestyle was overwhelmingly crummy, and wasn't improving. Before my salvation, I didn't fit into the normal culture.
About 20 years later, with my kids in high school in our Omaha neighborhood, the opposite had already occurred. For instance, a new teacher, with his heart for the kids, trying to help someone in a hall fight, was struck. He quit teaching. Kids and their "rights" suddenly began to rise above the former attitude. Over those few years, when kids came down our street near the high and junior high schools, I could hear the screaming, fighting, and language... words even I wouldn't have said when young, and rarely heard in my house. When my kids and their friends were coming into our house my common instruction was, "Leave your street talk outside."
So, another twenty-plus years later, it's even more opposite from what it was when I was a kid and raising my kids. My present insistence to grandkids, among others is "No, you can't watch 'R-rated movies or TV shows" ..." or "No, you can't 'text' while we're talking to each other". When I'm walking through tough neighborhoods, I'm not at all afraid of seeing the gangs hanging out. What I AM afraid of is hearing the obscene language... and having it planted in my head, constantly needing help to have my brain cleansed.
So, this might not seem very technical or politically correct or well-defined. But, I've lived through those changes ... and am struggling when I think of what might be continuing to head our direction and keep us Christians constantly on our toes, looking around, hoping to help others grow in HIM. Only Him.
Started thinking this way through the Word project. Sure got my brain spinning.
Can't even remember how this was brought up recently, but has really kept me thinking, questioning.
When we, speaking the Lord's Prayer, asked for our Daily Bread, we grew up assuming it meant we would simply have our daily food needs met. Believe me, when I, for a number of years, was living in very poor circumstances, personally trying to find enough "Daily Bread" for my kids, I was very frightened. And then, through God's care, huge blessings occurred when groceries were left by my front door, or a church gave me a gift for groceries.
Once, in early 1983, in Edmond, OK, Steve, my son, who was 10 years old at the time, and I were sitting at the table and eating supper. Each of us had a bowl of rice with milk and sugar. That was it. Period. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and a lady came in with two bags of groceries. My son put her in tears. Standing next to me, looking at the sacks, big eyed, he said, "Mom. FOOD." Bev gave me a check for $75.00 made for a grocery store and had already arranged with them that I could spend it. She stayed at the house while I went shopping. THAT gift was SUPREME "Daily Bread" -- in an extremely joyous gift!
In today's present life, "Daily Bread" could, however, mean, not just food, but the common everyday needs... when and wherever we live. Even though Nebraskans have needs, I'm highly aware that most folks on the coastal sides of our nation face far more challenging financial or material basics than we do.
In our area, besides food and housing and utilities, most of us require cars... that means that we must have gas, oil changes, insurance, repairs, new tires and on and on. Sometimes buses, or other inexpensive transportation, simply isn't available -- we don't have subways, for instance. In portions of our region, jobs and shopping locations are quite distant, or the local can-walk-to ones are expensive, i.e. convenience stores. [Yes, while working at times, and not having a car, I've bussed, walked, biked, and carpooled, so that's obviously less expensive, but also not too easily accomplished.]
Even those of us who try to live as basically as possible in our society can really be struggling, day by day, and, especially, month by month, since that's the way the bills are scheduled.
So, besides just filling some of our necessary "Caesar" requirements or everyday ones, Dave and I are rarely spending more. We've hit a phase of life that requires some heavy financial attention. Don't want to be irresponsible, to God or others.
So any thoughts? This may seem a little extreme to some folks, and I'd like it if some ideas were shared and spread so we could adjust our lifestyles.
Oh, and I DON'T think most of us should require fancy washers and dryers, any dishwashers, fragrant deodorant, tooth-whitening toothpaste, wrinkle-reducing creams, etc. There ARE "Daily" options, but I don't think things such as these count. We need to think about what's reasonable to anticipate the Lord's "Daily" touch for our lives, without which we simply can't make it.
Different locations, such as Uganda, where we lived, of course, have different requirements, different needs, different daily "Breads".
Our yard fruit on our porch in Uganda.
To be honest, there won't be much "sorrow", but when life is life things can't be perfect. Been thinking about the bits and pieces in Minnesota and the drive home.
One joy I always have on these trips is seeing the two longest rivers in our nation -- or what many people consider it to be one LONG river, having given the Missouri the credit.
The Mississippi photo is about 10 miles from the source site. The following one is the source.
Had a nice time walking with a little girl around her parent's land while Susie and her Dad were talking. That little one really liked this shadowful event. Pointed at my LONG legs and giggled and giggled.
One of the challenges: churches.
One is
growing solidly... not poured with lots of folks, but very, very foundational. So that is joyful.
On the other hand, a few times during my drives up north through t
his countryside, I have seen 
country churches that are damaged -- paint stripped, roofs falling apart, weeds clamoring through the gravel parking lots, and even the grave sites not looking cared for. So sad. Life has changed in this hundreds-square-miled part of our nation, and it is sending a future message, a sorrowful one.
And NOW, my final JOY. Stopped to take photos on the Winnebago and Omaha Reservations. Mostly Missouri River, a few rolling hills, and autumn-colored trees. While taking other photos, and hearing all this racket overhead, I couldn't see anything for some seconds, nearly a minute. Then suddenly caught this.
[One of my main joys connected to living in the Plains portion of the country is something I rarely saw in the Northwest or California. Flocks and flocks and flocks of hundreds of birds. I'm overwhelmed when I'm driving and see them on the land, on the ponds and lakes, and floating through the sky.]
Know this isn't filled with lots of overly intellectual and challenging topics and spiritual kick-ups. But, except for one serious event, this trip truly was "sweetness and light."
I returned home on Monday evening after 2 weeks between here and northern Minnesota, mostly at Susie's, and a time of blessing beyond belief.
When I left home, the weather in Omaha was, of course, heading towards colder stretches, and, yes, leaves falling off trees.
However, when I reached the house, it was overwhelmingly obvious that wind had been "swiffing" through here, piles of leaves all over the neighborhood, PILES in our yard.
But, besides the leaves being overwhelming and my mind struggling with how soon I can possibly do the raking and bagging and cleaning ...
even though I'm not always a "movie" person,
this one jumped into my mind...
and made me grin.
======================================
and the
Yesterday morning I drove up to the Red Lake Reservation to take Pastor Josephine to a home about 100 miles north of her, in Baudette, MN, on the Canadian border, so we could hang out with our dear friends. They had come down to her church to minister to the folks, but she had never had a chance to go up to their house. I always look forward to visiting Dave and Ducky, who I met about 7 years ago up here, and I was also excited that I would have Josephine with me privately for some hours and we'd get to know each other better. That was the whole plan.
I've often said that if I'm not driving around the reservation carefully enough, I end up in some real trouble. It's been crazy in the past, scaring the tar out of me a few times. Yesterday, however, I wasn't concerned, partly because I would have Josephine with me and partly because I wasn't just "touristing" or "prayer driving", but was doing a "God-job" and knew it was another "Right Place, Right Time" action.
We were driving along the main highway between two of the towns that were a few miles apart. A large van-style vehicle pulled in behind me and was right on my tail, pushing and prodding. The speed limit was 50 mph and that's what I was doing. No one was in front of me.
I saw a German Shepherd-ish dog on the side of the road, a bit ahead of me, wandering in a ditch. It suddenly cut up onto the highway, not running, but moving rather quickly. I had to hit the brakes, first slowing, then stopping. The dog jig-jagged in front of my car, then cut into the other lane. As it did, the van behind me swung into the other lane, not slowing even the slightest, just missed the dog, popped back and forth a bit, and hit the road in front of me, speeding, another car headed towards it in the other lane. It could have been one big mess of vehicles, people, and a dog. Of course, this whole event was very few seconds.
As I started moving forward, the crisis past, my eyes were BIG, my breathing slow. I glanced at Josephine. She was quietly, intensely staring ahead. We knew we had been protected by the Lord.
After that, all the miles up to Baudette and back, there was not one tiny road issue. It was a total of about 250 miles from Susie's to Baudette and back.
When I arrived at Susie's, after my long 9-hour visit-and- drive day, rejoicing for my blessed time with Josephine and Dave and Ducky, I was also rejoicing that my Father had protected me and mine.
My heart has been singing "Hallelujah" ever since.
On Sunday morning, during my present visit in northern MN at Susie’s, I had the blessed opportunity to go to a fellowship meeting. About a dozen folks were in the house, mostly 60 to 70-plus years old... and when I walked in I knew I was at “home”... they were joyfully worshiping and praising the Lord.
I attended because a couple I met about a dozen years ago, from another portion of northern MN, was going to be there, the husband speaking. I always LOVE listening to him share.
Voice of the Martyrs is their present ministry. Between their involvement with VOM and other groups, he has been in China, Bangladesh, and Vietnam. He has smuggled Bibles, attended underground church meetings, baptized brand-new Christians –- once in mucky water right next to cobra-infested river banks. He's 70 now and still ready and willing to go.
When I left the house and was climbing into my car, something caught my eye. In the midst of a very gray day, bright red berries hanging in a tree.
And that is one of the principles most of us don’t quite understand. Before I was told about this word carnival today, I had already been thinking about the manner in which God drops His bright red color into our lives and the lives of others ... especially the persecuted, imprisoned, martyred in many locations of our world.
When Doug quoted pastors and others in persecution-oriented locations it caught my attention... and my heart. You see, they see persecution and imprisonment –- gray and dark in our perception -- as God’s colorful strategy to bring more and more people to Jesus. They know that at some point, just like us, they will be taken Home –- maybe far earlier than most of us will experience –- but before that occurs, whatever it costs here on earth, their focus is to draw people to Jesus.
The Blood of Jesus sprinkles and sparkles throughout our gray world. HE is the World-Wide Strategist.
In fact, I have a file cabinet drawer that is filled with letters to and from Uganda from 1989 to 1996 when Dave and I were very involved. In those days, faxing and phone calling was limited over there. Long-distance calls were generally expensive over here. Writing letters was the cheap way to go.
