Time

Sister of

Still Here,

Blessed,

With my only gift,

Given by God,

Given to share

Given to others

My Blessed example

My sister,

The Gift of Time

I believe in the example God set for this season, of our Savior’s birth, as a time of giving of one’s self. This year my gift to family and friends is so precious to me, that I am having difficulty explaining my reasoning and its value, even to my own family. I hope someday they will understand me better and know that I actually have a new and deeper sense of the Spirit of Christmas.

Until I lost my sister, Joanne, original blogger of this blog I am not sure I realized how time could be so painfully short and priceless. I also am more aware that this is a difficult to package gift. It surely does not come with any warranty or guarantee of anything, either!

My time is difficult to measure for the recipient on the pleasure scale too! Apparently enjoyment is not promised! Patrick probably doesn’t enjoy every minute with Nana and as I help my dad this past week review his eating habits and find new ways to limit his salt intake, he has doubts about the current value of this gift too!

As a matter of fact, I am thinking about weighting out six pounds of water and setting them on his kitchen counter today. He has lost 6 pounds in six days. Do you think he can see sometimes a gift is not having something, like this much water weight, leaning on his failing heart valves?

There is no exchange policy either! It can’t be given back or returned and once it is gone, it is gone. I hope that as I give this most precious gift, it will be a time of thoughtful consideration at least for me of what the Gift is that I am celebrating this Christmas. Thank you dear heavenly Father, for Your Son, for His Birth, His Life, and His Death so that I have Your Eternal Gift of Salvation!

Merry Christmas to All….Re (Nana)

PS, In the Spirit of Joanne and giving time, my sister Margaret has put together and published Joanne's writings so everyone can read her truly inspirational Christian jounal. Here is the link to download or purchase a paper copy-bless you Margaret and Michael too!

http://www.amazon.com/Still-Moments-Collection-Devotionals-ebook/dp/B006FRU9DA

Sister Still Here Celebrates Joanne's Birth Date

Today, Joanne would be 50 years old. A milestone hard to appreciate for many. I wish she was here to celebrate it with us but since she is not physically here, I will eat some candy in her honor!

Although I have several sisters, ( I am one of 5) it was only the last girl-my baby sister Joanne that I had any awareness of our family preparing for her birth. I am not sure how prepared we ever really were but I hope as Jesus's birth celebration draws near, I am learning how to prepare!

A simple memory about Joanne's pending arrival reminds me the importance of sharing good news, especially with family members!

Joanne’s expected birth was pointed out to me by my nun/ teacher who asked me if I was excited about “getting a new brother or sister”?

I was clueless about the pending arrival at that point so I listened as the teacher explained about my mom’s expanding waistline. (This was sometime after school had started in September, I was eight years old).

I remember going home that day, excited to inquire about this new information. I can remember looking up at my mom’s tummy and thinking about what my teacher had said to me. My mom had on dark blue plaid top. She seemed please about my question and I remember her letting me rest my hand on her midsection as she spoke about the baby growing inside of her.

I have wondered after I grew up had she told me before and it hadn't registered? I can see now that might have been the case especially when I see how many times I missed hearing and understanding other important details in my life. I am blessed that when God wanted me to know about Him, he marked it with very impressive events to catch my attention. I wish sometimes I was not so slow with my progress of getting to know Jesus. I would want to tell Joanne how key she was in my journey, but if Joanne hadn't shown me how to depend on God in her final days, I am not sure where I would be now, surly things would be different, but it is hard to know if it could be "better".

I think back to the day of learning about Joanne and I remember telling the nun we already “had” a baby as Margaret was less than two years old at the time and mom still called her “baby”.

I think there was some explaining from my mom about how big Margaret was, how she could walk and say little words so she was not going to be a "baby" much longer . Margaret was only 16-18 months old, clearly deciding who is a baby and for how long infancy lasts is relevant to .

It may have been the same day or several days or weeks later I remember her showing me the bassenet and explaining that was where the baby would sleep. I wondered later if I was asking about the arrangements because even as little as I was I do think I was aware that we lived in a very small two bedroom, one bathroom house.

Now, I particularly enjoy remembering and talking about any specific occasion. Please share any of your favorite times with Joanne. I know several of us sister’s recall the “famous to all that were involved, car trip” but surely there are many others as Joanne had so many friends!

My Secret Place

Where are the words that are in my heart?

Why are they hiding when I want to start,

To let you know I’ve received a gift?

God gave me a secret place to go,

With a reason to pray, that only I know.

The place is my darkened room at night,

When things go bad and nothing is right.

It’s a lonesome place you’d probably say,

But a perfect place to kneel and pray.

God hears my woes and my silly cries,

And I hear Him say “Child dry your eyes”

How could I forget this gift that He gave,

His Son crucified so I could be saved?

Then all of a sudden my doubts disappeared

All of my worries and all of my tears.

Don’t keep your worries in a secret place

Invite God in and accept His grace.

God knows your worries, doubts, and fears

So give them to Him-I’ve done it for years

My secret place is a secret no more.

Jesus has my heart and the guilt I wore!

J.J. Bowman

I was gifted with this poem over the weekend as I shared my faith and heart

with my neighbor / friend, Joyce. I wanted to somehow share and celebrate Joanne’s gift to me, not by being my baby sister, but as a Christian woman of strong faith. She entered this world 50 years ago today!

Sistering 101 Lessons from Joanne

It is true but impossible to put into words the blessing it is to have sisters. I am more fortunate than some to feel so blessed because of so many people in my life, but it all began with my sisters.

I have been blessed at the birth of each of my 4 sisters. They have taught me the most about being a friend. An with those lessons I hope I have shared the blessing with my friends, relatives and an amazing extended family.

So many of you have become an important part of each of our lives. I myself have found some special friends as close as next door and one as far as Denver. I am most thankful that Love has such an amazing reach!

We don't know the future and we can't change the past but Joanne use to try and explain the importance of living in the present and it being God's Present. I can barely grasp much less truly focus on the absolute truth of that important lesson but I will try this minute and say how blessed I feel to have been taught what love is and to have experienced so much-thank you! Ma (Re)

Be faithful and vigilant!

by Jean Leek, One of Joanne's Sisters Still Here

posted by RE/ MaryAnn, who cherishes her sister Jean dearly. I know we are as helpless as the baby squirrel in the story but I also know we are so fully blessed to be in His hands! (Know that if my arm reached as far as my heart does, it would be around your neck just like these sisters!) Blessings as you read....

The summer of twenty-eleven seemed different to me than others, especially in central Arkansas. Headlines reported thousands of birds tumbling from the sky into neighborhoods. Broadcasts reported scores of dead fish washing ashore along the river. National news included reports of hundreds of small earthquakes centered in a single county. Storms would seem to appear from nowhere and obliterate towns from the tornadoes they produced and the floods which followed. Extended periods of oppressive heat compared Ft. Smith, Arkansas, to Death Valley.

The summer of twenty-eleven also seemed different within the boundaries of “ordinary” within our family. We seemed to be dealing with unusual circumstances unique to any other time.

We seemed to keep one vehicle operational at a time, parking the other in the driveway until funds were available for repair. Undeniably one would stop working just as one was repaired. I walked to and from the scanty job at McDonald’s two miles away. If I needed to go any farther, arrangements were made to ride with another.

One of those summer days I had to attend to details in downtown Little Rock. I was able to locate transportation there, but I would need to wait a few hours for a ride home at the end of the day. When my business was complete, I walked around the downtown area near the Old Statehouse and the Peabody Hotel.

Noticing the dampness in my hair and on my clothing from perspiration, I realized I was standing outside the Pulaski County Courthouse, built in mid to late 1800s. While the building seemed rich with history, it also seemed rich with air-conditioning. No purchase necessary and admission was free.

After passing through security, I viewed dockets posted outside courtrooms and entered the gallery to observe the proceedings in several cases before the courts. As 4:30 approached, the court sessions adjourned, the prosecutors, defendants and attorneys went home and the security guards systematically locked and protected the building.

My ride home had not yet arrived, so I located a very small park across the street with a few benches, and decided it would be a good place to spend the remaining time.

As I sat down, I thought about the park bench which had been dedicated to my youngest sister in St. Louis. I offered a prayer and wondered if this bench, where I was resting, was somehow “related” to her bench.

While my thoughts were wandering, I saw some movement in the well-trimmed grass near a large tree. I decided it must be a leaf moving, and then noticed the air was still and without a breeze. I waited a few moments, and recognized the movement again. Curiosity got the better of me and I left the bench to get closer.

Looking down into the grass, I saw a very small squirrel. It seemed very young, only a few inches in length with its eyes slightly bulging and still closed. Only a small amount of light colored hair covered its chest, and none of it had reached its tail. The tiny one resembled a gerbil more than a squirrel.

As I watched the small and shallow breaths, and an occasional tail twitch, I wanted to pick up this tiny creature and somehow care for it. Knowing I had no experience or understanding in nurturing a squirrel, I decided to let nature take its course. I returned to my bench.

A mother’s heart is sometimes predictable in the way it cares, protects and defends everything too young and too small. Watching this small life struggle, the sadness washed over me.

I was reminded how fragile life is for some. I considered my ignorance of God’s plan, and how all life is given as a special gift. The Children’s Hospital across the way has other small and fragile life within its walls. Many of those children will be healed by God’s special graces, and others will be called to His home with His gift of mercy to guide them.

I thought of how helpless we can feel as a witness to life, knowing that all outcomes are not under our influence, but are according to His plan. And while painful to abide by, each fragile life has a purpose and a blessing if we will just open our eyes to see. We seem to become routine and procedural in our duty to procure, nurture and defend a life which is entrusted to our care. All life is extraordinary. Even the life of the tiny squirrel is extraordinary.

Reminded that God is merciful, I watched the movements of the tiny squirrel become less frequent and slow. Continuing in sadness, I helplessly monitored as the little life before me disappeared. I wondered if the sole purpose of this event was to observe and see a new perspective on a smaller scale than my own life.

More than ten minutes had passed since I noticed movement.

Another squirrel approached from the very end of the grassy area. It crossed the lawn and scurried up the large tree. A few moments later, the squirrel darted down the tree, fidgeting and frantic. It must be the mama of the tiny one in the grass. It was clear she was searching for her baby.

She was a brave mama, as she could sense I was there but continued in her search. She began separating blades of grass until she came upon her tiny one. I felt sadness that she soon would feel the ultimate loss.

I thought of Luke:

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” - Luke15:4(NIV)

I observed as she came upon her tiny one among the blades of grass. I wondered what she would do or think. Do squirrels think?

First, the mama struck the baby once with her front right paw. Astonished at the reaction, I thought perhaps she was ensuring that the tiny one was gone.

Then in a flash, she used both front paws and struck the baby again, a bit more forcefully. Not seeing any movement from the bench, I watched as the mama squirrel picked up the baby and flipped it over a couple times and put it back in the grass. Then she picked the baby up again, and this time held it upside down by the tail, as though to let the blood return to the tiny one’s head. She flipped it a couple of more times and laid it back in the grass.

The tiny squirrel began to flinch and move. I was sure I had just witnessed some sort of “squirrel CPR” as the mama continued her flipping ritual on her baby. More and more movement was seen from the tiny one.

Soon, mama picked up her baby, like a cat carries her kittens. She carried the tiny squirrel halfway up the tree and paused to regain her hold as the baby continued additional and extra movement.

Elated, I watched as mama climbed high in the tree and returned the baby to the nest.

For a few minutes I could not see any activity. Then I saw the mama squirrel return halfway down the tree to an outstretched branch. She then laid spread out with all four legs on either side of the branch, and her tummy and chin laying flat on the limb.

She stayed in that position for a while. I imagined she was exhausted.

The images of the events played back in my thoughts. Again, I felt every emotion. I felt a mother’s heart for the love of a child. I felt the sadness at an ultimate loss. I felt the hopefulness of searching for a lost one. I felt elation at the discovery and confirmation that a life was found and renewed. And I felt the exhaustion of completing a mission and persevering. I felt thankfulness and gratitude.

I felt confirmation of the assurance Jesus provides through His care and His inexhaustible love for all creatures. He will take care of my family, just as He takes care of the sparrows and the squirrels. There was no other explanation.

Be faithful and vigilant!

Jean, A Sister Still Here (Joanne's Sister In Arkansas

Copyright © 2011 – All rights reserved – Jean M. Leek

All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotation in critical reviews or articles, without prior written permission of Jean M. Leek.

Important: The information contained in this document may contain information which is confidential in nature, private, or protected from disclosure. You are advised that any dissemination, distribution or copying, or the taking of any action based on the contents of this information, without written permission, and any communication of the contents is strictly prohibited. Any written requests may be sent by facsimile transmission to (501) 851-4539, or mail to: Jean Leek, Post Office Box 13153, Maumelle, Arkansas, 72113. Thank you.

A Sister Still Here

I am with the humble joy in knowing my purpose in life is to be evident in my Christian faith, a sister, still here.

With a fullness of heart but less than perfect understanding in God's ways and with His love that reaches beyond my own arms, I know He makes all things good in this imperfect world.

(Romans 8:28)

Ecclesiastes 3:11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time ...I am reaching out with my many limitations to be as He desires.

Thank you Michael for allowing me to add posts to Joanne's blog site and contribute as I feel called to share the many "Be Still Moments" as they rest on my heart so that The Story, His Story, is told. She is "still here" in our hearts re-minding me to continue to pray.

I have witnessed with my own eyes and felt in my heart what it means to know Jesus and I am praying as I am "Still", blogging on this Walk, to trust Him as I follow my baby sister, Joanne (Cook) Sampl's path...

Forever

's Sister,

Forever Saved....Re

My Lovely Wife

On August 20th I celebrated the two year mark of Joanne going onto heaven. She is still in my thoughts every day. I know she touched the lives of many people for Christ and is still doing that with this blog. I can't wait until I get to Heaven myself to see the Master and hear him say "Well done, good and faithful servant". After that I am looking forward to seeing Joanne once again.

Michael Sampl

Someday - a beautiful song

R-E-S-P-E-C-T and T-R-U-T-H

If you've been watching our culture these days, there seems to be more and more people being disrespectful to each other in order to earn respect for themselves. On the tails of the political season with hours of negative ads tainting the media for months at a time, people felt they had the right to disclose every feeling or impression they have about someone else. Yes, people should know the truth, but sadly when the truth is not reported as much as opinions and biases are called facts, it's hard to sort it all out.
So, what does God say about respect? What does God say about the truth? What does God say about integrity? There are 224 passages that use the word "truth" in the Bible. If even Pontius Pilate asks Jesus "What is truth?" as He stood before his court confessing the truth that He is the King (John 18: 37-38). Obviously, even when the TRUTH is standing right in front of us, we'll deny it.
I am feeling sad today that the Biblical understanding of the TRUTH and RESPECT are lost in our culture. We become defensive and aggressive when we offer our opinions as truth and disrespect each other because of our differences.

In John 5:19-23, Jesus gives us this answer: "I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does. Yes, to your amazement he will show him even greater things than these. For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it. Moreover, the Father judges no one, but has entrusted all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father. He who does not honor the Son does not honor the Father, who sent him. (NIV)

So, Jesus is the Truth, and all honor and respect is ultimately from the Father. Now that is settled, can we get back to honoring and respecting God?

Open a Box of Childhood

I have a small yearning that overwhelms me every Fall. Okay, it can get to be a pretty big yearning for me. Now, just so you know, I'm not one to spend a lot of time in the malls or shopping for clothes. Personally, I'd rather spend an afternoon in the hardware store, checking out the latest hardware gadgets that make a house more up-to-date without spending a lot of money. But my yearning does involve shopping.

When the last few weeks of summer start up, I start stock piling the object of my yearning: school supplies. It's a sickness really. I can lose at least an hour sorting through all the different kinds of pens available every school year. And, I used to buy packets and packets of loose leaf paper, just because Fall was the cheapest time of year to buy them. As much as my children hated all those handwritten exercises and homework, I loved to see my well preserved school supply box get used. For years, it seemed that I spent almost as much on pens, folders, binders, highlighters, crayons, markers and scissors as I did on back to school clothes for both my boys. They may have needed new jeans, but I always made sure they had enough items in the school supply box to get their homework done.

When my sons were both in high school, I was forced to redirect my school supply spending to more important things - like track shoes and activity passes. They didn't need my loose leaf packets of paper anymore. They were, however, going through lots of copier paper and inkjet cartridges. Times were changing, their needs were changing, and my school supply box sat dormant, with hardening crayolas and drying markers.

This year was the saddest Fall of all for me. I had nothing to buy for my school supply box. Although one son is in college still, and the other one is in the military, neither of them needed me to provide their school supplies. They were old enough to take care of their needs themselves.

I peered into the overcrowded back-to-school aisle at Walmart, watching mothers and children gather long lists of supplies for the start of the school year. I had no reason to fight them for my space in the aisle so I could make the perfect pen selection for the season. I mourned the loss of my overflowing shopping cart. Today, I just needed some shampoo, trash bags, and light bulbs. I didn't need any school supplies - for anyone.

It was then I decided to start a new box.

I haven't spent enough time lately remembering what beautiful and special children God gave me. I work full time now. My stay-at-home mom days are over. They are grown men now. But, they were such adorable boys. I called them my sunshines, and sang to them every morning and read to them nearly every night. We had designated positions for cuddling on the sofa while we watched TV and we threw the baseball mitts on the top shelf of the front closet for those quick games of catch we'd play after school.

So, instead of filling a box of school supplies that get used up or dry out, I've started both of my boys boxes of something different: my memories of their childhood.

And, yes, I have a few pages of their handwritten homework - on loose leaf paper, of course.

Inspiration is everywhere...

I'm having to adjust my heart this summer and look for inspiration in new ways. There is so much going on in the world, in our country, and in our homes. The challenge is to take every concern, every fear, and every unknown to God. With my youngest joining the military and the oldest debating the same opportunities for his future, I'm looking to God more deeply and earnestly. I realize Moms around the world and for generations have given back their children to God in various ways. But, now, I'm giving doing the same.

So, take a minute to watch and listen to my gifts from God being placed back in His hands!

Devotional Song: Hope of the Nations by Brian Doerksen

The Channels of Life

I was reading a marketing site yesterday where the resident expert was sharing his research on the generational differences in managing media intake. He said that the number of channels (input of information) that our generation can manage simultaneously is 1.7. For example, on average, most of us can watch TV and read a magazine and be full aware of both channels of information. Not bad, huh?

He said, however, that the next generation is more capable of handling up to 5 channels of media simultaneously. So, our children can play a video game, text message, surf the net, IM or chat with someone online, and talk on the telephone and still retain the majority of information. It slowed me down to realize how much more our children and grandchildren will be exposed to just because of the capacity of technology.

I'm not sure I could ever manage that many channels of information at once. I think I need music on in the background while I work, just so I tune out other channels of information, so I can concentrate. I listen to about 20 hours of CDs I've bought over the years, all stored on my hard drive and set to play in random order. They range from Christian Artists on the WOW Collections to individual artists including: Mercy Me, Newsboys, Michael W. Smith, Stephen Curtis Chapman, Casting Crowns, Mark Shultz - oh and just about Good Christian artists for the last 6 or 7 years.

Anyway, while I work, I listen. This morning, I found a website that has wonderful videos that also tell the messages with visuals. Here's one I found that just settled me.





So, while I get back into work today, I hope and pray that a little "GodTube" channels it's way into your life, and you can be blessed to take in a little more Him while the world is trying to overwhelm you with every other channel in this life.

A Funny Thing Happened While My Children Grew Up

I'm not sure how it happened, but while my children grew up I seem to have grown up, too. Somewhere between the "playing pattycake" with my infant son's hands, teaching him to drive donuts in a parking lot before he received his learner's permit, and going over his budget with him before he moved into his own apartment, I grew up.

I remember believing the lie that when I turned 20, I was almost too old to get married, and that I needed to get started in my life. I remember arrogantly telling my parents that I knew everything I needed to make informed decisions: when to get married, when to drop out of college because getting a degree wasn't going to affect my career, how to pick life-long friends, and what to do when problems arise.

Looking back, I can see the love my parents had for me in their eyes. They conversed rationally with me as I emotionally errupted on every point with them. I was determined and headstrong. I believed the lie that I knew what was best for me, and they were trying to hold me back from happiness.

In The Purpose Driven Life, Rick Warren explains that "Spiritual growth is the process of replacing lies with truth." Over the past twenty-five plus years, I've experienced the pain of many of the lies I believed, but I've also experienced some unchanging truths that carried me through the brokenness and hardships. The lies were replaced with the truth: God's Truth. Sixty-six books worth of truth - the Bible. And the reality that I definitely didn't know enough then, and still don't know enough now on how to guide my life without God's Truth from the Bible has tamed my arrogance.

Maybe being a grown up means accepting that I am forever a child in the eyes of God, and that I've never had to make my own decisions without Him. He's always listened, even when I'm so emotional I'm more like a volcano than a child. He's always cared about the tiniest consequences for my arrogance, stubbornness, and self-misdirection. He's been calmly filling my heart with the Truths of His Love, His Character and even His Purpose for me while I've been filling my head with lies and misinformation. He's the only one who knows what's best for me.

I now look at my sons with great love and patience. Just like my parents did to me. Just like God does for me with every day. Maybe now, I am a grown-up.

Mimicking the Psalms

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. 2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD,and on his law he meditates day and night. 3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water,which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.Whatever he does prospers. 4 Not so the wicked! They are like chaff that the wind blows away. 5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. 6 For the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,but the way of the wicked will perish. - Psalms 1:1-6 (NIV)

There are 150 Psalms to read and meditate in the Bible. Each one has a purpose in the context it was written and now in the context of my life. So, I've been trying to get the "pattern" of Psalms in my mind, heart and especially my prayer life. There are times, especially when my emotions are huge and my patience level is tiny, that I need to write my own Psalms to God in my prayers.

I've noticed that almost all of the Psalms in the Bible have these components:

• Recap - my human situation
• Reframe - from God's perspective
• Rejoice - about God's power and ultimate control

I think that the mistake I often make is that I leave out or rearrange the order of these components. For instance, if I just skip straight to the "rejoice" component, and leave out the "recap" element, I still feel distant from God. I need the time to be honest with God, tell Him what I am really thinking and feeling, and trust Him with my human situation. Yes, I know that God knows what's going on, but I need to use my words to describe and communicate with God. It is the "relational" time I have with God: telling Him what's going on and what I am feeling.

"Reframing" my situation from my perspective to God's perpective is equally important. The God of eternity knows what the outcome of my circumstances will be, and I need to take time trying to view my short-term problems with His long-term results. There are times when my heart hurts so deeply, I can't see my situations from God's view. Suffering, pain, loneliness, loss - these are just a few of my human perspectives that need Godly refocus. This is the hardest component for me. I have to remember God's character as He reveals it to me through the Word and through the work of the Holy Spirit in my heart. Is He trying to grow my character? Is He trying to build my dependence on Him? Is He teaching me that He's the only one with perfect love for me?

"Rejoicing" is the culmination of the Psalms and of my life. After I've taken time to relate to God, to share my heart honestly and vulnerably with Him by recapping, then use all the things I know about God - His Character, my purpose and His plan for me - I can truly rejoice in Him. True rejoicing happens when I take the time and effort to recap and reframe my life. Those previous components help me be more authentic before God in my rejoicing. The more real I am before rejoicing or worshiping God, I've learned then my rejoicing is more true to my heart. I want my life to be a Psalm for God.

Mementos in all kinds of shapes and sizes

"In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever." Josh 4:6-7 (NIV)

I have a large collection of plastic cups in my kitchen. My collection started when my first son moved on from breast milk and bottles to holding his own cup as a toddler. It was always important to me that my children drank plenty of milk, so the only real choices I gave them were about the cup their milk would be poured into. "Do you want your milk in the red cup or the blue one?" (Note that I rarely asked them if they wanted anything else but milk to drink.) Each boy adapted to their favorite cups and life went on with plenty of spilled milk in the process.

Zoom ahead twenty some odd years in time. I still have a bountiful collection of plastic cups in my kitchen. Two whole shelves in the cabinet closest to the refrigerator are their storage and selection display. Some are mementos from restaurants, others are take-homes from trade shows, retreats and school fundraising events. I do have some cups that actually match each other - like they were part of a complete set - but mostly they were used during those "have-to-be-fair-and-give-the-same-amount-to-both" years of parenting. Some of them have barely recognizable logos and images on the sides, while others have indelible stains and scratches from non-milk related activities in the backyard.

The collection of cups is worth little to anyone else but a mom who remembers her grown children's once tiny hands wrapped around them and the simultaneous milk mustache that occurred. Each silly old plastic cup has a fond memory for me tied to it.

Does God have fond memories stored up of our close times with Him? Does He have mementos about those quiet times while reading His Word that we "spilled the milk" of our problems, insecurities, circumstances and brokenness before Him? Do we still have the "cups" stored in our heart cabinet of times of nourishment and refreshment with God?

I love knowing that God wants us to remember close times with Him in our spiritual lives. From Noah to Revelation, the Bible recounts stories of people building altars to worship God and remember what He's done in our lives. Stopping to praise God after every battle, after every journey, after every milestone is important - to us and to God.

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."

When the Bubbles Pop

[*This devotional was published May, 2007 in Proverbs 31 Online Devotionals. ]

Heb 10:35-36 - So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. (NIV)


Devotional:

It’s a childish thing to do, but I still love to blow bubbles. I keep a bottle or two of that sticky, soapy, messy stuff with the plastic wand in the kitchen pantry near the back door. I even have a bottle in my minivan for those unplanned stops at the park.

Just like the bubbles drift away as I blow them, my mind drifts away watching them. I study them closely. Each one is a different size but they each reflect the colors of the rainbow. Some pop quickly while others linger and dance in the breeze. Some bubbles leave the wand with several bubble friends, while others start alone and end alone. Depending on how slow or forceful I breathe, I can try to create more or less bubbles at a time. However, I am constantly aware that even though my breath is important to starting a bubble, I have no idea where it will end up or how long it will last. I can only watch and see what happens.

Recently, I received devastating news. The shock and stages of grief are still wafting over me. Instinctively, I pulled out my bottle of bubbles and headed to the park. I was eager for my mind to drift away from my circumstances. The first bubbles were the hardest to blow that day. I barely had breath to exhale through my tears. “Keep trying. Keep blowing,” my mind coached me that day. Or, was it God’s voice coaching me?

The principles of blowing bubbles seem to apply to so many circumstances in life. “Keep trying. Keep blowing.” These words are another way to express the principles of 1 Timothy 4:15-16: “Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers.” (NIV)

I am still trying to see the colors of the rainbow in my situation. God keeps His promises (Gen 9:16) because He loves us with an everlasting love. I realize that no matter how long things last, I get to appreciate them. I get to notice the uniqueness of each person I meet, each friend I have, and each child I raised. I have no idea where any of them will end up, but I am grateful to be part of their “dance in the breeze.”

And, when the bubbles of life pop, I get to take another breath and start again.


Prayer:

Lord, you breathed life into me first and now I pray every breath I have gives you glory and honor. You are the Creator, and all things start and end with You. Give me your eyes to appreciate those around me, your strength to keep going through my circumstances, and your breath of hope to share with others. Amen.

Application Steps:

What circumstances in your life does God want you to keep your eyes on what He is doing around you?

Talk to God about the areas in your life where you are struggling to have hope and confidence in Him to work things out as He sees fit?

Simplify your life so you can have time to meet with God through studying the Bible and prayer.


Power Verses:

Ps 31:24 - Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. (NIV)

Ps 71:14-15 - But as for me, I will always have hope ; I will praise you more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteousness, of your salvation all day long, though I know not its measure. (NIV)

2 Cor 5:17-18 - Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! (NIV)




Copyright © 2007 - Joanne Sampl. All rights reserved.