To My Dad, A Year Later

Dad,

It's been a year since I saw you, heard you, hugged and kissed you.  It feels like ages.

I watch old videos to hear your voice.  That same voice with which you used to bicker with me.  Always my contender; we'd match up nose to nose over topics like:  football vs. "Life Goes On", just HOW smelly and bad for you cigarettes were, and whether or not I REALLY was "that sweet girl all your teachers" told you about at parent/teacher conferences.

However argumentative we could be, we also shared a deep respect for one another.  I respected your courage as a police officer, your loyalty to your brothers on the force, and your ability to withhold hasty judgment of others.  And I know you respected me.  You believed more in me than I did in myself.  You wanted me to be a lawyer; but I didn't believe I was capable of that.  You believed in our ability to parent you special little "Sunshine" Evie; and you became our tender-hearted cheerleader on her Caringbridge site.  Your writing moved and inspired the countless visitors to her site, and in everything you glorified God by lifting us up during some very dark days. 

And, speaking of God~you always did, and were never ashamed of your faith.  You knew that you, and all of us, were born with a sin nature, and that we all needed Jesus.  You even tried to remind me that Jesus could be my Rock when I felt alone and scared. "Do you know who we're supposed to go to when we're scared and don't know what to do?" you bravely asked me, the 'crying-hypochondriac-nervous worry wart' that I was.  And my brilliant response?  "Dr. Quinn?"  You replied with a chuckle, "I was thinking of Jesus."

You wrote us letters at Christmas, expressing to us your love, admiration, and adoration of us; your girls.  We always knew to read those letters with a box of Kleenexes. 

So...how could it already be a full year without you here?  And, yet, how is that it's ONLY been a year? 

As an aside, the infomercial industry continues to succeed in spite of your absence.  I didn't think it could.  The Chill-ow, the 9/11 minted collectible coins, and the car visors that have a flap that darkens your windshield like window-tinting would~All of them, STILL PROSPERING!!!

Dad, your legacy is embedded in our hearts.  You taught us love, respect, tender heartedness, faith, and...well...how to turn a potentially short story into a doctoral dissertation. 

Love you, and miss you...

Peanut

P.S. 

Lena stepped up to the clerk in the department store and said, "Can I try on dat dress in da window?" The clerk responded, "We'd really prefer dat you try it on in da dressing room."

Aanenson, the wealthy milk tycoon was telling Ole about his new girl friend. "She's 30 and I'm 65. Do you tink I vould have a better chance of getting her to marry me if I tell her I'm 50?" "No," said Ole, "I tink you vould have a better chance if you told her you vas 80."

My Op Ed for the Wisconsin State Journal for Mother's Day

Tammie Hefty: Give mothers real help by expanding family medical leave : Wsj

F.I.T. Forever in Training

F.I.T....Forever In Training...

Is it just me, or does life itself keep us fit?  I as thinking about this as I worked out today...pardon the rambling trail~try to stay with me...

I've been doing the Chalean Extreme program now since September.  It's a 90 day program of weight-lifting and cross-training the way the "pros" train.  These can be "work until you puke" kinds of workouts.  Sometimes I can't brush my teeth because I can't lift my arms.  But I LOVE the challenge, and I LOVE to see the results and feel how strong I'm becoming.  So, I keep doing it over and over again.

I told Jeff the other day:  "Each time I do these workouts I think to myself...'This workout feels different because now that I'm stronger, I hold my posture and positions differently which then makes the exercise even more effective so then I get stronger still!'"

Isn't that just the way life is?  We have been woven together by our loving God who designed us in such a way to grow stronger and stronger as we undergo duress so that we come back and can fight again another day. 

God didn't just throw WAGR Syndrome in at me and say, "Here you go!  Let's see how you handle this!!!" Instead, he gave me a family that had my Uncle Joel...a family that had chosen to take home their baby boy with Down Syndrome even when it wasn't the typical way things were done.  I grew up going to my mom's room at Washington, and then Lake Elmo and working and playing with the kids who lived with multiple disabilities.  My sister and I danced at the ARC dances with Kyle, Joel, Lisa, Jerri, Alice, Kathy, Mary Kay...and so many more awesome friends.

Stronger...then I was in school, and I was picked on.  I was awkward and nerdy and quick to cry~the perfect target.  I wanted to leave school.  I would wake up in the morning crying because I didn't want to go.  I enjoyed talking to my teachers more than talking to the other students because I was scared.  I knew I was different.  I knew that I wanted to bust out...I wanted to be fun...I wanted to not be awkward, but how do you change the way people already see you?

You become stronger...you go to college and join EVERYTHING!  And I did.  I tried to go to a school where there would be very few people who already knew me.  I didn't want to be the nerd...I wanted to be "fun"!  I think I was, too!!!  And, having been picked on in High School hopefully helped me become nicer to others~and maybe someday it will help me when I see other kids who are picked on~I can help them realize that there is hope for tomorrow, if they just can get through today.

Stronger...I went to grad school and learned to read statistics and data and lots of research.  Well...that certainly helps when learning about WAGR Syndrome.  :)  Not an accident.  Not "for nothing."  Am I using my degree?  You betcha.  Oh, and that's when Jeff and I started dating.  So, had I not gone to grad school...would there even be an Evie Jo?

This leads me to one big philosophical point...we are forever in training...we are NOT a product of evolution...I am not something that developed from a blob...I am an interconnected amazing system of DNA and RNA and replication and regeneration.  Oh my goodness.  God gave me a body that would store fat so I could nurse my baby girl and keep her healthy with my own antibodies~but then when she didn't need that anymore I could lift weights, breakdown muscle, metabolize that extra fat, and then build muscle back up again?  Are you kidding me? 

 I learn more and more every day.  And, I become stronger and stronger every day.  I am forever in training...mind, body and spirit.  Messing up, asking forgiveness and trying again.  Learning more about the God who made me, learning about his love for me, and learning how best to serve Him.  It's never too late to start getting F.I.T. 

"Even now," declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning."  Rend your heart and not your garments.  Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity."  Joel 2:12-13

What a Shame?

I had an interesting experience recently that I have been tossing around in my head...

An elderly lady who didn't know me nor Evie had introduced herself to us when we met her in a public setting.  She then looked at me and leaned in..."What's wrong with her eyes?" she asked me under her breath.

I said, "Oh, she's legally blind, but you can't really tell, can you?"  I smiled. 

The woman gave that type of scowl or pursed lips you see when someone eats a lemon.  "What a shame..." she said.

Instantly, that struck a chord with me...a chord of discontent.  (The first thing I wanted to say was, "Well, she might be blind, but she can still hear!!!)  I replied, "Well, don't let Evie know that, she's doesn't realize she's at a disadvantage.  She misses out on nothing in life, and is one of the happiest children you'd ever meet." 

The woman looked at me, a little stunned.  She said, "Well, good."  But, then the shadow fell over her face again.  "Just,"  she continued, "well, I guess they must have gotten to her eyes too late.  Not able to do anything for her?" 

I took a breath...this Debbie Downer was starting to grate on me.  "Actually she had 3 surgeries in her first year of life.  The glaucoma won in her left eye eventually, but her other eye is working hard for her.  She walks with a cane and is learning braille.  If you saw her on a playground, you'd never know she was blind." 

I had to get away from this conversation, I was about ready to ask the lady how she made it through life this long (she herself was walking with a cane to keep herself upright)~how can you make it that long if you believe any obstacle that falls in your path is a "shame?"

Here's the definition of Shame from dictionary.com

1. the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another: She was overcome with shame.

2. susceptibility to this feeling: to be without shame. 

3. disgrace; ignominy: His actions brought shame upon his parents. 

4. a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret: The bankruptcy of the business was a shame. It was a shame you couldn't come with us.

 

NONE, and I mean NONE of these definitions even remotely describes Evie's life, disposition, abilities, motives, or heart and soul.  Furthermore, none of God's creation is a "shame".  We are not mistakes.  We are not "whoopses" in God's art studio.  Each one of us was knit together in the womb by a God who created such intricacies as DNA, RNA, mitochondria, cytoplasm, and gamines; we still have NO idea how all of this replication and duplication comes to pass in such a way that any of us even makes it into this world as "normal." 

 

I don't mind when someone asks about her eyes, or her syndrome; how she manages, how WE manage...that's great!  Ask away!  Learn, understand, be inspired, be impressed, be blown away...but don't feel pity.  Don't take a 1 minute glimpse at us and think you know us at all.  I should have asked her if she wanted a run down of everywhere we went last summer.  I should have asked for her address so I could send her a Christmas card.  I should have ACTUALLY made the business cards that I always had thought about making with the mission of the IWSA on one side and the synopsis of WAGR on the other.  Instead, I took a breath and got out of there.  After all, we had too many fun things to do with the remainder of the day than to let that woman look upon us with pity and tsk, tsk about the shame of it all.

 

For I know the plans that I ^[a]have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

 

Brace Yourself: Dreaming of a White Christmas

This young lady has an amazing blog!!!  Enjoy!!! Brace Yourself: Dreaming of a White Christmas: A white Christmas, at home and in no pain. That's probably what the kids at Shriners Hospitals for Children are dreaming of this holiday sea...

Who Brought the Crazy Lady to the Game?

When you realize you're not acting like yourself...

Convicted...that's how I felt.  It was the first home hockey game of the season.  Each year I look forward to it with joyful anticipation.  I had never even BEEN to a hockey game before I met Jeff.  But when we started dating I was thrilled to find out that he would watch the Badgers play hockey on Saturday nights at the Kohl Center in Madison.

And so it's always been!  Hockey season rolls around and we know we will have a handful of Saturday nights which include dinner, drinks and dynamic ice-action.  Should be fun, right?

Well, last night...it felt...not so fun?

I'll admit, I've gone through many changes in the past year/year and a half.  One of them has been to eliminate things that bring me down.  I've found that when I'm staying positive, when I'm looking for the best, when I'm bringing God glory and walking the road He wants me to walk, I am soooo at peace; and there's no where that I'd rather be.

With all those changes that I've made; surrounding myself with joy, enveloping myself with hope~last night surprisingly became an exception.  I came home feeling sad, downtrodden, and deflated.

Last season, I DID catch a foreshadowing of my startling realization from last night.  Last season, you see, I ran into a teacher with whom I'd subbed a couple of times.  She said, "Oh my gosh...I saw you at a hockey game a couple of weeks ago."

I said, "Wow, really?" 

She said, "Yeah~and I was like, 'Hey!  That's a side of her I didn't know she had.'"  Ouch...

Maybe because that's a side of me that I shouldn't have...

Maybe because that's the side of me that DOESN'T bring God glory...

Maybe because that's the side of me that would make people look at me and say, "You're a Christian?  Never would have guessed that!"

Now~some people would say, "But, you didn't swear, you didn't give the refs the finger, you didn't ....."  But here's what I have realized; that doesn't matter.  It's the voice...it's the yelling...it's the booing...it's the "Come on!  What are you thinking?  Let 'em play!!!!!"  Oh my...that's not me...not anymore.

I realized about half way through the second period that I was mad.  I was no longer having the same fun that we had leading up to the game: laughing until my stomach hurt, taking pictures, catching up on what we'd been up to over the summer.  No~I was seething with anger because of bad calls, waved off goals, and...hmmmm...the game? 

It felt like every part of my body was out of balance with The Spirit.  The Holy Spirit.  He's still there, inside me...but I couldn't hear him.  The crowd around me, the turbulence of the game; it was swallowing me up and I couldn't feel right in my own skin.  It was Anger...and that's not a fruit of the Spirit...that's a fruit of Sin.

So, this morning, I stood in the shower wondering how I could still wake up and feel so negative.  Then, while doing my hair, I continued to ponder that negative feeling.  I walked into church to start rehearsing for worship team and a friend of mine said, "I really appreciate your joyful spirit."  HUH????  I was just starting to doubt that joyful spirit still existed!

What was the difference?  How can I still go back to hockey and not let that loud-mouthed, sassy-pants-ed, ego-centric maniacal woman emerge?  PREPARE WITH PRAYER.  I prepare for my day at the high school with prayer~I pray on the days we have doctors appointments for Evie~I pray when our planes take off on our way to vacation, and I pray when they land us back at home.  I guess I never have considered praying before I go out for a night of fun and friendship.  But why wouldn't I? 

As our pastor said today in his sermon, we are Christian Ambassadors.  Everywhere I go, I am representing my Savior.  If HE never lashed out at others as HE himself were being lashed, then what would He think of me screaming as loud as I can, "Are you SERIOUS????  DID YOU SEE THE PLAY????" 

So, who DID bring that Crazy Lady to the game last night?  I did.  But, I really hope I never do again.  Sports are sports.  Games are games.  My friends, God bless them, because they haven't brought duck tape to put over my mouth yet~and they deserve better than I have been delivering.  And my God?  Oh my...He certainly deserves a servant with a quiet heart...and mouth. :)

Bitter Blood Bears Burdened Brains

Apparently, God wants me to consider my bitterness toward others...

Not ONLY was our sermon at church today on the burden of a bitter heart, but the couples devotional that Jeff and I read in the morning is focused right now on MERCY.  (The One Year Devotions for Couples, Ferguson.) 

So let me ask you the question that our pastor posed for us today...

Is there anyone with whom you are angry?

Did a face pop into your mind?  Did you whisper a name behind your lips?  I did...

Then you, and  I, are bitter.

(Insert cheesy Homer Simpson, "DOH!")

Yup.  I'm bitter.  Or, at least, I was...until the Holy Spirit finally opened my eyes to it today.  The human in us longs to hold on to that pain.  Why?  Because it's hard for us to believe that OUR worst transgressions could be forgiven, so CERTAINLY we can hold on to the bitter memories of others doing US wrong...right?

But listen to just how forgiving our God is...

He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us. Psalm 103: 9-12

How about this?

Who is a God like you,
who pardons sin and forgives the transgression
of the remnant of his inheritance?
You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.
You will again have compassion on us;
you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. Micah 7:18-19

Um...wow...this drums up in my mind the song by Casting Crowns... http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/castingcrowns/easttowest.html

Here I am, Lord, and I'm drowning in your sea of forgetfulness
The chains of yesterday surround me
I yearn for peace and rest

The best way for us to break free of our sins, is to forgive others for their sins.  God gives us this great gift of his Sea of Forgetfulness, but we can find ourselves drowning in it as we struggle to keep hold of those chains of sin, guilt, and bitterness.  They weigh us down, and continue to grow as our strength continues to fail.  The murky waters start to hide the chains, and the sand we kick up begins to blacken out the light from above...we struggle to stay afloat in our bitterness and shame...all we need to do is let God cast those chains DEEP into the sea to be forgotten forever. 

Why do we hold ON???

Our minds have learned that we want to win!  We want to be right!  We want the majority to vote in our favor and say, "Yeah!  I'm on your side!"  But God's vision is totally the opposite.  He says that mercy will be the winner.

Mercy triumphs over judgement. James 2:13

If we fail to believe that our all powerful, ever-loving God is able to forgive us for our sins~then we have NO FAITH.  Let's think about what all of this means!  God sent Christ to die on the cross for us~for our transgressions.  He bled and DIED so those sins could be cast away, flung to the ocean floor.  If we cannot accept that, and if we cannot accept that he did this ONCE AND FOR ALL...we have NOTHING. 

Forgiveness is not an option.  Forgiveness, love and mercy are what God has shown us, and what he has commanded we show one another. 

Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Micah 6:8

[Love] keeps no record of wrongs. 1 Cor. 13:5

You know that list?  That list of names you have in your head of the people who have done the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, written the wrong thing, voted the wrong way, put the wrong sign in their yard?  That list of "hurts"...like the time that so and so did this to you?  All those things that we are ready to chat about in a text, or post on facebook, or sarcastically mention to the person next to us at our kids' soccer game?  Guess what?  God already forgave it.  God already LOVES THAT PERSON all over again.  Does that make your blood boil?  Knowing that God loves that person JUST as much as he loves you?  But you never did ANYTHING like what THAT person did.  Really? 

Bitterness will continue to grow, will continue to spread, will continue to chain you to your own sins, while that other person against whom you harbor such thoughts and feelings has been forgiven, and may not even REMEMBER that thing which is the root of your bitterness. 

Okay, my heart is racing~blood pressure is up~and mind is spinning.  I have a lot of forgiving to do tonight...but for some reason I already feel lighter, happier, freer, and closer to God than I have in a LONG, LONG time.  I just got the green light to let go of all that pain from the past.  Actually, the light was green for a while now...someone just started honking behind me and woke me up to the fact that this day is new, God's love is new, and his mercy is new for me today, tomorrow, and always.

How GREAT is our God?

Would You Prefer a Wound from a Friend or a Kiss from Your Enemy?

My dad died unexpectedly back in June. For the past few years he had been struggling with lots of health issues, but never had any one firmly diagnosed. He had continued to be more and more absent from our lives, and for the girl (me) who only gets home to see everyone a mere 36 hours or so a month, that absence was deafening.

Finally, back in April during one of our visits, Dad had said to me, "The next time you come, be sure to bring my sunshine." His "sunshine" was Evie. He has sung it to her since the day she was born. I looked at him, with my mouth hanging open..."Dad...she's right there." "No," he replied, "That's not my sunshine, she doesn't have the time of day for me." I'll admit, it was one of the first times that I had ever seen Evie so "unresponsive" to my dad. He spent most of his time in the basement of the house. That was where he had his office, his golf items...it was, for lack of a better word, his own Bedroom. Where do you go when you're not feeling well? Your bedroom. So, Dad would often be in his Bedroom for most of our visits the past few years. When Dad said this, I admit, I felt a little bit of anger boiling inside me. Dad and I were ALWAYS very similar, and we would call a spade a spade. Thankfully, he knew this about me.

"Dad, you spend about 30 minutes a month with us when we come up here. How do you expect to have a relationship with an 8 year old that way?"

Ouch. I saw it. I saw what that wound did to my father. We had been eating, and he pushed his plate aside in silence. My heart was pounding in my chest. The tears were aching at my eyes. I did NOT want to hurt my dad! He was my guardian, my warrior, my biggest bear hug EVER! And what I said had hurt him, but what I said was the truth. And he knew it.

"Thanks alot..." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Dad..." I said, "But it is the truth..." Oooo...had I just poured the lemon juice on top of the wound? Yes...I had.

We sat primarily in silence. I tried a few attempts at conversation. But that empty pit of fire in my stomach was rolling with lava and spitting flames of fear that reached my brain and said, "What did you just do???"

In May we made our monthly visit to MN. The weekend always flies by because we get in at about 11 o'clock on Friday night, sleep, have Saturday to do our playing and have our fun, and then leave either after breakfast or lunch on Sunday. That's why I say it boils down to about 36 hours a month. My dad was THERE. I mean, he was present and accounted for. Not just for meals, but he even found a comfortable chair that he could manage some extra time in. He watched us playing our dice games. He watched DVD's with us. We had conversations that we hadn't carried on in months.

In June, it was even better! Oh my goodness! And Evie got us all together for a picture. The last picture that we have of my dad. All of us in the living room. Evie was a complete ham that trip too. She was commanding that Grandpa "play guitar". I just remember his goofy smile as he sat in the green chair strumming an air guitar. *click* A final image of my dad. That next day, as we got ready to leave, storms were coming through the Twin Cities and I pulled up radar on my phone. Dad was sitting in the chair, he had been for almost 2 hours, waiting for us to get our things together for our departure. He was holding my phone and watching the radar. It may seem like nothing to others, but it is now a miracle to me. He wasn't just coming up stairs to kiss us goodbye. He was present, very present, and very much a part of that day. My phone would time out and lock up on him and he'd call me over to open it back up again so he could watch the radar. *click*. Snapshot. I love you, Dad. We watched those storms come rolling in on my phone together, and I had no clue what storm was brewing ahead. Six days later, Dad was dead.

Why am I telling you all this? Because Proverbs 27:6 says "Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." Hmmm...then the Bible directs us to Matthew 26:49 "Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, 'Greetings, Rabbi!' and kissed him." Judas gave Jesus a kiss as a sign to the Roman officers that "this is Your Guy...take Him away, and show me the money."

Yes, I hurt my dad. But my hurting him was out of love for him. And, had I not hurt him that day...had I shied away from the truth~which was hurting me and Evie and Jeff...We would never have had May or June. We would never have had Grandpa on the air guitar. I never would have had those moments of daughter helping father with her phone so he could sit and ponder whether we'd be safe on our trip home. The wound I gave my father that day hurt him, but he was a strong man who loved his family and suddenly he saw what his actions were doing to the relationships he had as father, father-in-law, and grandfather.

So what would YOU rather have? A wound from a friend who doesn't WANT to hurt you, but knows that the truth is the only way to help you? Or a kiss from your enemy: from your traitors, from those who maybe care more about the number of their friends, or the "comfort" of their friendships then they do about YOU as their friend?

Grandma Ev's Homestyle Cinnamon Toast

Grandma Ev's Homestyle Cinnamon Toast

Grandma Ev made, hands down, the best Cinnamon Toast, EVER!!!  I thought I would share the recipe...

2 loaves of bread
1 tub of butter spread
1 glass shaker (with a red/orange top shaped like a cone) full of cinnamon sugar

Directions:

Slather both sides of every slice of bread with butter spread.  Be sure to use the entire tub.
Shake cinnamon sugar mix onto one side of the bread.
If you're not sure if you put enough on there, put more on there.

Lay prepared bread on a cookie sheet.
Bake bread in oven at 350 degrees until the granddaughters wake up.

Take toast out of oven and allow it to cool on the "pink plate" or the "white plate with roses on the one side" until Gary Gnu reads the No Gnus is Good Gnus on the Great Space Coaster.  Watch the girls eat as much toast as they can.  When the Showcase Show down has begun on The Price is Right, the girls are finished and will not be eating anymore toast.

Put the remaining-uneaten, but equally as well cooked toast into a bread bag...just use one of the bags you just took that fresh loaf of bread out of...

Tell the girls they should take the remaining Cinnamon Toast down on the dock to "feed the fish".  Then marvel at how big the fish have gotten, and wonder why they seem to be over-taking the lake.

"Go into town"... A.K.A. driving to Siren, and certainly stopping at the Fancy Freeze for a dish of ice cream... go into town and buy two more loaves of bread for breakfast tomorrow, because the kids can't go hungry.

Forever in Blue

Forever in Blue by tammie-hefty featuring miu miu handbags

Somewhere, Dreams are Waiting to be Dreamed

Have you ever wondered where dreams go when they die? Or where they come from when they take on life? 

 I saw some dreams come into existence over the course of these past few months of my life. I can only attribute it to prayer, everyday, and to listening to God's direction for me through His love letter to me. He reminded me that He has called me to a higher purpose. That I am not able to just sit by and watch life happen. That I have to take an active roll in the construction of my family and the community around me.

When you walk in God's will you receive the peace that only He can provide. So, call out to Him. And then listen. Listen for His direction...for His opportunities that come your way. Listen to His Word so you can recognize His voice among the many voices that fight for your attention.

There are limitless dreams waiting to be dreamed. Reach your hand up high to the sky and grab hold of them...God is just waiting to pour them out over you...

Crime and Pumice-ment

I am gearing up to celebrate the Easter holiday. A holiday centered on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As I ready myself for that, I look back over my year and think, "You really needed Jesus' blood this year, Tammie Jo." Even as I age, I continue to need Jesus more and more. Does that make sense? Wouldn't I get wiser and have less tendency to sin as we mature? It seems counterintuitive.

But it's not...

Consider dry skin, for example. Dry skin has plagued for many years...even back to elementary school. What's worse, as people age, their skin, the first layer of defence for their bodies, is exposed to greater numbers of harsh environmental elements and conditions. If people don't have enough water in their systems, or if their systems aren't absorbing enough moisture, then their skin becomes hard and calloused in order to protect them from the world.
So now I have even drier, harder, more calloused skin than when I was younger. I hate that! My hands scratch Evie when I put lotion on her after a bath. My skin randomly just splits open on my finger tips, especially during the winter. Blech!

Fortunately, you and I were not created by a God who says, "You have dry skin? Well, then we don't want you...". Instead, we have a God who carries a pumice stone. A pumice stone is the funny looking, light weight, grey stones that are coarse and gritty when you touch them. God calls his pumice stone the Holy Spirit. According to dictionary.com, pumice can also mean to clean; and callouses can also come from friction. I find those two distinctions quite poignant as I consider how the world can make us unclean, and that we are becoming calloused due to tension, and friction. But I digress...:)

What does God do with the pumice stone? He takes some time and starts to file, file, file away those rough places of my heart. I can see the microscopic flakes of deadened feelings, calloused pieces of soul, and hardened emotions swirling and floating away with each brush of the stone.

He stops buffing, and looks deeply at me. The roughness is gone. My body is finally realeasing that dead part of me-the part that had calloused and hardened so I wouldn't feel as much pain. But He doesn't quite see the new baby-pink fleshiness that would come with new life.

"We can do more, " says God. The pumicing begins again. Now I feel know He's smoothing out my head AND my heart. The stone moves back and forth, back and forth; like waves of water across rocks on a shore. He's trying to get the heart and the head to an equal cleanliness, an equal newness. He's gently reminding me that the heart and the head typically give me the right answers and guide me the right way to go, but sometimes, I don't get the message because of the callouseness of my soul.

Instead of punishing me for my crimes, God chooses to pumice me. When I have built up too many barriers, too many callouses to the pain of this world; when I have been away from His Living Water, when I haven't had time for Him to nourish my soul...I get off His path...I can't hear His voice. So then, I have to go through the discomfort of pumicement; a gentler alternative to the wages of sin, but time-consuming, and sometimes heart-wrenching.

Inspiration to me, from me, and around me~in The Fires of Sorrow

As usual, I find myself inspired by the words of Oswald Chambers in the time-tested My Utmost for His Highest. Oddly enough, the inspiration comes from the devotional for June 25th...don't ask me why...
"My attitude as a saint to sorrow and difficulty is not to ask that they may be prevented, but to ask that I may preserve the self God created me to be through every fire of sorrow," Chambers begins. His inspiration was John 12:27-28~ What shall I say? Father save me from this hour? But for this cause came I unto this hour, Father, glorify Thy name.
I have to say, every now and then, I get it. I realize that the stresses which play in my brain, and the questions about the future that tumble around in my heart~they are all there because God ordained them to be and He will, therefore, create the eventual resolutions. But, there are also the times when, rather than being inspired by God's intentional use of me, I feel more...perspired. I feel like a sweaty old t-shirt that has been wrung and wrung and wrung until everything that is needed out has been wrung out.
And that's when I stumble. When I lose my inspiration and turn to perspiration...I focus on how hard I've worked, how little I've slept, how much I've read, or wrote, or thought about this and that...When I focus on my efforts, then the Little Green Monster of Entitlement starts to speak in my brain:
Tammie, you work so hard...you deserve this...
Tammie, why should you always have to take the high road? They shouldn't talk to you that way...
Tammie, it's not really that big a deal...you work hard so you can play hard...
Oh, I tell you what, that Little Green Monster of Entitlement sure can make me forget what the point of "all this" is. As Chambers points out, "Our Lord received Himself in the fire of sorrow, He was saved not from the hour but out of the hour."
Yikes!!! I think I need to put little post-its around my house that say, "Be Inspired, not Perspired" (Or is that too close to "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff?") It feels like when I'm called into battle on behalf of the Lord, I ready myself quickly with the Holy Armour and swoosh my sword and pound by breastplate like Tarzan~by why do I so quickly peel back the armour and expose myself to sin? I say, "Phew...made it through that one...now let's have some fun and forget about the One who helped me win that battle."
I guess that's a part of life...learning to keep the armour on, learning to become so strong, that the armour no longer feels like a heavy burden. I think the Inspiration is something we're supposed to learn by turning to God's Word every day to remind us that we are to go through the fire...that no prayers or petitions will douse the fire and make it smolder out...our prayers and God's Word are the strongest weapons we have to battle the fire and make it through.

Hopefully I've inspired both you AND me...Now, I have to go find some post-its and get to work shining up the armour...