Let the Training Begin...

My cell phone is constantly on now. I keep it close by and listen for its single tone beep that it does when I receive a call. I don't have it set to ring 4 or 5 times before it goes to voice mail since I really don't give it that much time away from me. I'm not very athletic, but I do seem to be able to sprint out doorways, down crowded hallways and outside to be alone with it anytime it rings.

My son is at boot camp for the Army National Guard. He left 7 days ago. I don't know when or if he'll call, but I'll be ready.

Last night, at precisely 7:38 p.m., my cell phone rang and his Caller ID was on the display. I rushed out of a meeting to take the call in the hallway. No apologies. No explanation. I was unashamedly rude to the people I was meeting.

"Hey" was his quick hello to me. My heart sang with the familiarity of his usual greeting to me. He was calling to let me know that he's at his next phase of boot camp: his training center. This is where he'll be for the next few months, learning to be a soldier and serve as a military police.

Let my training begin, too.

My faith needs to get stronger than my fears. My worry needs to be transformed into worship. While he'll be building muscles and stamina, I'll be building up my faith and dependence on God.

Silly Putty in His Hands

When I was a kid, I kept myself busy for hours with "Silly Putty" - the stretchy, rollable, flesh-colored glop of rubbery plastic sold in brightly colored egg-shaped containers. Okay, to be honest, I have no idea what "Silly Putty" is made from. It could be plastic, or it could be rubber, or it could be over-processed play-doh. Chemistry was never one of my talents. All I know was that I used "Silly Putty" for many things: modeling clay, snakes, bouncy balls, rings, bracelets, playing catch, masks, darts, and so much more. I think I spent most of the time on Sunday afternoons pressing the "Silly Putty" onto the comic section of the weekend newspaper, transferring the image onto the flattened ball, and then stretching it in every direction until the image wasn't recognizable anymore. Then, I'd start again.

I went to a memorial service last night. A letter written by the relatively young widow was read by one of my good friends. The letter started with the woman's appreciation for all our prayers, then she detailed many specific ways that God's provision was taking care of the family. The letter ended with a challenge to the audience to make our choices count.

Our choices are the modeling clay for our lives.

The illustration Paul uses to depict our status as "clay" is in Romans 9:21. It says, "Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?"

Now, the question is "Am I Silly Putty in God's Hands?"

Do I let Him mold me, stretch me, and transfer His Image onto me over and over again? Do I let Him stretch me, pull me, kneed me, roll me up then flatten me out on a daily basis?

It is a daily choice - not just on Sunday afternoons with the comic section in front of me.

Getting Busy...

Mondays start with making a to-do list: Which clients jobs are hot, which ones are waiting for information or materials, which jobs do I need to put ahead of others, which jobs do I need to put away until next week. I try to get organized quickly. I want my time with God which is what I try to do after the list is made, while the first cup of coffee is finished, and before the phone starts ringing.

What's your routine for "Meeting with God" on a daily basis?

Is it "praise and pray" time for you right now?

Donning the Red, White and Blue

It's Sunday morning, and I've just been through my closet again. How could I have missed such important staples in my wardrobe colors as red, white and blue??? I don't like to wear blue jeans to church, but hey - they are blue! Red - whew! There's that red striped shirt from a few years ago during a Walmart sale. White? Okay, there's my white sweater. Quick check there isn't any ketchup stains on it - Yep! I can wear it!

What's with the patriotic wardrobe requirements?

It's my new tribute to my son, Adam, who is at Boot Camp right now. I drove him to report for duty and he won't be home until September.

Ugh! My heart aches already. It's too quiet. It's too neat. If I lose stuff now, it's because I moved it not him. If I can't sleep now, it's because the noise in my head is too loud compared to his nocturnal noise in his room.

It's time to go. I'm missing something. What is it?

Oh yeah - the full armor of God.

"Lord, dress me with your armor. Clothe me in your strength. Focus my eyes with your vision."