PSALM 13:3

MIRACLES DO HAPPEN!!

The first time we went to Uganda, January, 1991, was to check out the country to which we felt God was leading us. Unfortunately, our original plan, to leave in early December, 1990, fell through. We shifted the departing date a couple of times, and ended up scheduling it for mid-January ... which, unexpectedly, turned out to be two days after the first Gulf War began. We left Omaha with eighteen boxes and pieces of luggage: eleven boxes of materials a local ministry had collected from a number of churches -- shoes, clothes, books, small tools, and even a trumpet -- and seven supplied by us, items we had collected or purchased, including toiletries, OTC drugs, school supplies, lots and lots of twin-sized sheets for orphanages, paint brushes and paint rollers, and M&Ms, granola bars, and small fruit cups. On top of that, we had our own clothing. Overall, lots and lots of stuff.

We lost piles of money -- so many airline requirements we had never anticipated and being 2-1/2 days late because of planes rescheduled to comply with the war situation -- and arrived with a lot of tension and confusion and concern.
God brought us through in many ways, one miracle after another. However, one always stands out for me.

Three days after we arrived, I was asked to put a library together for the orphanage in Kampala where we were helping. I asked a Ugandan lady to sort through the three hundred books in the evening and I'd come back in the morning and take on the job.
When I walked in, she had several stacks in her room -- yep, she also slept there -- piles of text books, fiction, non-fiction, and Bibles. Many, many Bibles.

When I sat down in the chair to begin the job, I glanced at the Bible stack. On the very top there was a Bible that looked trashy. Embarrassingly so. I asked "Who would give a terrible looking Bible like this away?"

I reached down and picked it up and as I opened the cover I was stunned. It was MY Bible. I received it for my first birthday in the Lord and had lost it at a writer's conference at Boys Town in Omaha ten years 
earlier. It had my maiden name in it, so no one would have known it was mine. However, as I looked through it I found that all my old notes were still there. Nothing had been lost. Overwhelmed by the joy, the miracle, I immediately started jumping up and down, crying, screaming, laughing hysterically, and startled the children and adults around me who didn't know what had happened -- including my husband. The director of the orphanage outside of Kampala, where we were going to be helping a week later, walked in at just that moment. It was Jay's first view of me: an hysterical, insane, crazy-acting nutty woman.

However, I also immediately knew that in the midst of all our confusion and challenges, God was telling me that we were in the exact place He wanted us to be at exactly the right time and that He would take care of us. [And He did!]

When I had the blessing of sharing or preaching while we were there, I always told this story. I said, "I lost my Bible ten years ago, ten miles from my home, and God gave it back to me here, ten thousand miles from home." And then I lifted the Bible and showed it to them. They always came to their feet cheering, overwhelmed with joy -- and I always cheered right along with them.

I have that Bible. It is on a bookshelf in a zip-lock bag. I pull it out occasionally just to be reminded by sight, touch, and even a little bit of smell, of the gift that my Father God gave me - Twice.


 
   

MORE LOVE

This coming Saturday, my husband and I will be celebrating our 27th Dating Anniversary.  It was a miracle. 

 

I had begun attending his church on the first Lenten service for which I was writing, sharing, acting in 1985.  Dave was an Air Force officer, a pianist, organist, and a youth leader. And a young guy.  I respected him, because my daughter was in his youth group and he was so considerate and giving.  I was a bit on the tough side, especially as a divorced mom, hardly making it financially and emotionally.  I was very intense in terms of hoping to help other Christian divorced moms and dads who were walking through very difficult stretches, especially with churches that wouldn't accept them.

WELL, one of his youth co-workers told Dave that he needed to mow my grass.  Made no sense; I hadn't asked for any help. But, for some reason Dave felt he was supposed to do it.

Dave came on May 18th with the lawnmower.  It didn't work, which he hadn't anticipated, and he tried to fix it.  We talked in my garage while he was working on it.  It still wasn't fixed, so we did necessary errands connected to the youth.  Went riding on his motorcycle later that night.  Had fun.

The next day he had piles of work at church, because he and the kids were preparing to head for Mexico as a missions team.  After church, he came to my house and worked on my yard, finished the mowing.  I, not knowing he was a marvelous cook and I was "OK", gave him a "thank you" dinner.

Then he played a junky piano I had grabbed for my daughter when a neighbor was sending it to the dumps. Of course, it was wonderful to listen to him.

For some reason, neither of us ever understood, so far outside of his character, he gave me a gentle, sweet kiss on my cheek as he was leaving.

We talked the next day, Monday, and he came back to my house that evening and we hashed it more, and realized God was putting us together.  However, both of us were scared beyond belief -- so different.

We were engaged in 10 days, married in 4 months.  Shocked a lot of people!  But we knew it was what we were called to do.  It was WAY outside of the normal social aspects, Christian and otherwise. He was 25, I was 40 when we married.  

So, MORE was the love through him that was poured into my heart, bringing healing from the Lord by his kindness, graciousness, givingness, huge generosity,  respect, appreciation ... most aspects I had never experienced in my life, even as a Christian.

We had been together for 2 days when he dropped an envelope off to me while heading out for a meeting; would see me the next day.  When I opened the envelope, it blew my mind.

This may seem too "romantic" and not serious enough re: "More" ... but this week, planning our date on Saturday, I think of him more often than anything else.

And, yes, we were much different and, yes, he knew it from the beginning or he wouldn't have written this:

=================

How can such a tough lady be so fragile?

 Yet you are and i understand.
Fagileness is a part of your beauty, like a flower,

and your willingness to risk hurt shows your strength,
which balances and makes you whole.

I pray that i see your fragility,

so i can treat you as i ought.

I would loathe to crush the flower underfoot,

when i desire to nurture you and grow you up in Jesus.

I pray the Lord's forgiveness,
and yours,
if i am not tender when i need to be,

and tough when i need to be.

==============

Very little touched my heart more than that.  Accurate, filled with truth, pouring forth more and more love.

=============================
Enjoy Peter Pollock's Carnival.  If I used the word "More" too often, that should be a clue re: his chosen word. 

MIRACLE # 3 -- SWOOSHING

 Am sharing miracles.  I decided these would be good ways to remind us of the love and protection of our Lord... sometimes when we hardly know Him.  This is a portion of a "Grandma Cary" story called "Does God Help Us?"  I use my granddaughter, Juliana, as the side character. 

When Grandma tells her about something that occurred many years earlier, THAT is the miracle that I [Grandma Cary] went through back in1979.  So, the answer to "Does God Help Us?" is YES!!!!
==================
...  headed to Omaha through a hilly country area, as Grandma drove around a curve, the car hit a piece of black ice, and she lost control.  The car started to spin, and slid towards the other side of the road headed for a ditch.  Juliana screamed while the car was sliding and Cary started hollering, “Lord.  Jesus.  Father God.  Help us.  Dear Jesus, help us.”  And as she hollered, the car gripped the pavement just as the edge of the road was reached, and suddenly the car was back on track.  Grandma pulled off onto the shoulder as soon as she could and turned around to check on Juliana.  Juliana's eyes, usually big, were huge – and filled with tears.  Her body was stiff and she looked like a statue.      

Grandma climbed into the back seat to hold her and it took a couple minutes before Juliana’s body began to soften and then she broke down and cried and cried and cried, hugging Grandma Cary’s neck very, very tight.

“You poor dear.  I’m so sorry.”  Grandma stroked her hair and held her.  After a few minutes, she said, “Honey, I need to start driving again.  I don’t want to be here too long and end up driving after dark.  OK?”

Juliana nodded her head very slightly and Grandma started the car.  A little later, Juliana said something so quietly that Grandma couldn’t understand her.  “What did you say?”
 
“God does help us, doesn’t He?  We could have crashed and instead we’re OK.”

“That’s right.  He did help.  My heart is still pounding and I’m still shaking a bit, but I know it was His hand that kept us from being in real trouble.”

While they were about 10 miles outside of Omaha, Grandma said, “I have a story that’s pretty amazing.  Now, God has protected me many times while I’ve been driving during rain or snow storms all around our country.  But this one was the first one.”  Grandma glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Juliana was listening and then started talking.

“It happened when your mom was about 9 years old.  I was working in a bank and late in the afternoon, after dark, we had an ice storm.  When I got out to my car, it was totally covered with ice and it took me about half an hour to chip it off enough to see through the windows and drive.  I finally got onto the road to head for home. 

"Today, that is a busy part of Omaha, and houses are all around it, but back then it was just a plain road and very few houses and no street lights, and only a few stop signs.  Well, I was driving along, carefully, and then suddenly the car instantly swooshed from the lane I was in to the other lane.  I was shocked and really scared. The road was covered with ice and I couldn’t turn the steering wheel hardly at all, so this sudden change wasn't what I had done.

"Another scary part.   I could see the glare of headlights reflected off the hilly stretch of road ahead and knew there were cars coming at me and we were all going to be in a very bad accident.

"I immediately started to pray.  First, I said ‘Angels.  Send angels.’ Nothing happened.  Then I said, ‘Jesus, help me, Jesus.’ Nothing happened.  But I kept frantically praying in my heart and suddenly my mouth opened and I shouted – very, very loudly –  ‘Satan, in the name of Jesus, take your hand off my steering wheel.’  And you know what happened?”  Grandma Cary looked at Juliana.  Juliana shook her head.  “My car immediately swooshed back into the lane where it belonged.  I didn’t touch anything.  The car moved all by itself.  Within just a few seconds the other cars started to pass by in the other lane where I had been and where we would have had a terrible accident, and maybe even died.  And, yet, God had done this for me.

"I had nearly 10 miles still to drive home and I had no more problems, although, because of the ice, I had to move slowly and carefully, just as I had before the ‘swooshing’ happened.  When I got home, my body was still trembling and I was shaking my head from the miracle I had just been through.

"I have never wondered whether God can step in to protect me.  He did it then, and many other times over the years as I’ve driven all over the country, many thousands and thousands of miles, and just now, He did it again for us.  And it gives you, my dear girl, a story to plant in your heart so you will know that He cares for you just as He cared for me..."

CLEAN HANDS, PURE HEART

 Who may ascend the hill of the LORD?

 Who may stand in his holy place?

 He who has clean hands and a pure heart,

 who does not lift up his soul to an idol

 or swear by what is false...

=======================

The Minnesota Department of Health demands 

everyone in the world 

to wash their hands physically.

 Our God desires all who inhabit

 His world to wash their hands spiritually 

to attain their "forever" time with Him.

His desire is the one--the only one-- that counts. 

BUTTON COLLECTIONS

"Will those of you who have been
 putting buttons in the collection basket,
 kindly put your own buttons and not 
those from the church upholstery."

Notice in Scotch Presbyterian Church, Scotland


Twelve Baskets Full, Page 116
Margaret Applegarth

==============
This has made me grin for a very long time.  Wanted more friends to grin with me.

"THE CENTRE OF THE CIRCLE"

This poem was written by a missionary, Arthur Mathews, the last China Inland Missionary to be released from China after the Communist takeover in the early 1950s.  He, his wife and very young daughter were in Mongolia, under increasingly difficult times, including cold, illness, hunger, isolation, and treachery.  Eventually, his daughter and wife were freed, but he still was forced to stay behind for a number of months, during which time his life was frequently in jeopardy.

When first reading this poem, about 30 years ago, it struck a chord in my heart.  It continues to do so.  If I had been born on time, and not 5 weeks early, I would have arrived just about V-J day.   I’ve always had an awareness of the fragility of our existence as a society and a nation.

For a number of years as a child, I lived in fear of attack -- like many other Cold War kids -- but I think mine was heightened by my sense of responsibility to protect my sisters in Tacoma, a city near an Air Force base and Army base.  When Sputnik went up in October, 1957, I was 12 years old and, while standing in our front yard and watching it pass over, I vowed to myself that I would move to the center of the country when I grew up so I would be so far away that “they” [coastal invaders] couldn’t get me.

  

Many years later, in 1976, in Omaha, Nebraska, the center of our country (with no thought of that youthful vow), I was walking downtown during my lunch break, and the irony dawned on me: yes, I had grown up, and yes, I had moved to the center of the nation, but I had moved right next to Strategic Air Command at Offutt AFB, one of the most seriously operated bases in our nation/world.  While standing on a corner, waiting for a light to change, this hit me, suddenly.  And I laughed out loud at God’s sense of humor.

In light of events that occur, causing hearts to feel heavy or  hopeless, I share this poem with family and friends.  My desire is that encouragement will flood them and be reminded that ultimately we are held in the hands of God -- and the only safe place is in the center of His will.

=========================

In the centre of the circle of the will of God I stand,

As I launch from sheltering harbour 

       to obey His last command.

What though waves o’erwhelm my vessel,

       and grim fears my faith assail,

Still I’ll stay upon His promise, for that cannot, 

      will not fail.

In the centre of the circle of the will of God I stand,

Where the warfare wages fiercest,

     ‘tis the place that He has planned.

Though dread foes may storm my castle, 

     and the battle seem but lost,

I will claim in Him the vict’ry, and hold on

    whate’er the cost.

In the centre of the circle of the will of God I stand,

There can be no second causes,

     all must come from His own hand.

When dark clouds obscure my vision, 

    and the way I may not see,

I will trust Him in the darkness, for I know

    He pilots me.

In the centre of the circle of the will of God I stand,

Though the circumstances round me 

    show small trace of His skilled Hand,

Yet in darkness as in daylight,

     in the gloom as sunshine fair,

I will trust Him for His presence, for I know 

    He’s always near!