A Rose by any Other Name...

Like Anne of Green Gables, I'm not quite sure of this quote by Shakespeare. For she's right: a rose would not smell as sweet if called a "skunk cabbage".

If you're like me and have a sibling or two - or seven - you know to answer to the names of your siblings. Years ago at a Bible study, we were learning about the names of God. Whoever taught that night gave us all a piece of paper and asked us to write down any nicknames we had. Allyson, a gleam in her eyes, asked, "Does Erin, Danielle, Charity and Paul count?" Those are the names of her siblings.

But I've been away from home for over two months now. There's no one else in the house to get my name mixed up with. Friends don't typically call you by the names of your siblings. New acquaintances don't even know them. It's a foreign thing for me, actually. I walk into church on Sunday and people greet me by my name. I can't explain how odd that is after walking into church with my family for nearly thirty years.

So yesterday when my boss called "Sally" from his office, I didn't even answer. From my desk, I can see him but I wasn't at my desk. I was off to the side near the counter putting papers in order. She social worker sat at my desk editing a program for a memorial service in a couple of weeks. As there is no one in the office named "Sally", at first I wasn't sure who he was talking to. But after 21 years of being sometimes referred to as "Sally", I peeked around the corner and asked, "Did you mean me? Melissa?" For a minute he just looked at me, but dawn broke. He started to laugh. "Sorry, Melissa."

A rose by any other name does not smell as sweet. I don't want to be "Sally" anymore than Sally wants to be "Melissa". Funny how a name becomes your own.

Book Review

What do you do when your world is turned upside down? You lose everything that is precious to you. Do you disown the God you believe in? Or do you cling to Him because He will not let you go?

Jason Faircloth is a man who thought he had the world in the palm of his hand, but tragedy causes him to rethink everything he ever believed in. As he seeks the answers to his questions, the God he thought he knew guides him on a journey far beyond his own plans – a path of trust, faith, and God’s sovereign timing. He becomes a Wisdom Hunter.

For this world is one of questions, doubts and wonder. We live our lives from one day to the next, but we often find ourselves thinking about our futures. Is the end near? Are things falling into place for the last days?

In his book Shadow Government, author Grant R. Jeffrey explores the recent developments in technology and government in an attempt to make a case for the coming of the last days. Packed with figures and facts, the book is a bit difficult to read. We are not the first generation to think the end times are near. Nor, perhaps, will we be the last. It is also disappointing in its lack of Scripture references used to support the evidence uncovered.

Wisdom Hunter by Randall Arthur is a thought-provoking book of a man’s journey in faith after tragedy. It’s a story of overcoming – and a testimony that God does not let His children go.

This book was provided for review by the WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

Interested in purchasing these books? Click on the links below!

http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=9781601422996&ref=externallink_mlt_wisdomhunter_sec_0908_01

http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=9781400074426&ref=externallink_wbp_shadowgovernment_sec_0908_01

UNOFFICIAL HOLIDAYS, PART 5 OF 6

TODAY WE LIVE IN A WORLD OF TEXTING (AKA: LACK OF GRAMMAR, LACK OF SPELLING, LACK OF CONVERSATION - MEANINGFUL OR OTHERWISE). YOU MIGHT HAVE A FRIEND THAT E-MAILS YOU FROM TIME TO TIME. THAT SAME FRIEND PROBABLY SHORTENS EVERY OTHER WORD AND WRITES IN ALL LOWER CASE (AND PROBABLY WITHOUT ANY PUNCTUATION). IT'S LIKE OUR GRAMMAR TEACHERS SPENT YEARS DOING NOTHING. WE DIDN'T EVEN LEARN BASIC ELEMENTARY SCHOOL GRAMMAR. CAPITAL LETTER AT THE BEGINNING OF A SENTENCE? PERIOD AT THE END? I THOUGHT ALL THAT STUFF WAS OPTIONAL...

OKAY, SO I HAVE A PET PEEVE WITH GRAMMAR AND PROPER WRITING ETIQUETTE. BUT I'LL GET OFF MY SOAP BOX. I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE A POINT OF CELEBRATION. FOR TODAY IS "NATIONAL CAPS-LOCK DAY". NO LETTERS WRITTEN IN ALL SMALL LETTERS. YOU CAN EVEN TEXT IN CAPITALS! OR BLOG...

SO, HIT THAT LITTLE BUTTON ON THE LEFT SIDE OF YOUR KEYBOARD AND TYPE THAT ALL-IMPORTANT LETTER YOUR BOSS WANTED ON HIS DESK TWO DAYS AGO. AFTER YOU FINISH EXPLAINING WHY IT'S 48 HOURS LATE, YOU CAN EXPLAIN WHY IT'S WRITTEN IN CAPS...

HAPPY CAPS-LOCK DAY!

A Reason to Die

These past two weeks, working for a hospice business has been like reading obituaries every morning. We've had somewhere between eight to ten patients die. And as I know them only by name and number, it isn't very personal. After all, hospice care is for the dying. You have to have a doctor's signature on a piece of paper that states you are terminally ill in order to receive our care. Of course, that could mean you will die in 24-hours or in another 4 or 5 years. That's not really up to the doctor. That's in the hands of your Creator.

Of course being around the topic of death leads you to think about dying a little bit more. Like anyone, I think going to bed one night and not waking again on earth is a glorious way to go. I don't care if getting shot is less painful that being knifed. (Which, by the way, I have always wondered at. Has someone come back from the dead who has been knifed, shot, blown to pieces or whatever so they can tell us what is painful and what is not? And does it really matter once you're dead?) And who wants to get sick for a long period of time? No - I'm all about the peacefully dying in your sleep thing.

Unfortunately, I found out a few weeks ago that that is no longer an option. As if death isn't already complicated enough. Gone are the days of dying, being put in a pine box, a few men digging a hole to put the box into, a few words said over the box, the hole refilled and an engraved rock posted to mark your position in the cemetery so your great-great grandkids can be dragged to look at it someday. I'm always reminded of the movie Pollyanna when that old woman is picking out her casket, trying to make sure the lining matches the handles. Heaven forbid we should be buried in pine when we can put our family in debt for mahogany. Let's be sure our stone is the largest and most intricately carved so it can be seen for miles. And someone has to pay the workman's comp if one of the diggers throws his back out. In the end, it costs more to die than to live.

And if you do die, you have to have a reason. A nurse at a doctor's office called me a few weeks ago about a death certificate the doctor needed to sign. She had to know the cause of death or the doctor would not sign it. I read her everything our nurse wrote up when she pronounced the death, but that wasn't enough. I had to call the nurses to find out the exact reasons. Even then the doctor's nurse was not satisfied. Although "failure to thrive" is a government approved diagnosis, this doctor wouldn't take it. The nurse informed me that next time one of our mutual patients died we had to have an exact cause of death.

So if you want to die these days, you better have a very good reason to do so. For otherwise, you may not receive a certificate of death. Which, as your marriage license legally binds you to your spouse or your driver's license allows you to legally operate a vehicle, certifies that you are legally dead.

I just wonder then: if you don't have a death certificate, are you not really dead?

Thoughts on Courage

Sometimes when you're writing a book, it takes on a life all its own. You have an idea. You start writing. Several chapters later, a minor character suddenly appears as the perfect springboard for a vital lesson. For me, this lesson has become courage.

I never thought much about courage before. I'm not going to war. I don't face bullies on my way to work. For me, the epitome of courage is calling an insurance company, or medicare, or anyone that works for the government. Maybe I'm ridiculous and imagine extremes, but I prayed and prayed before going to all the offices in search of proper tags, licenses and titles last week. (For one, I know by experience that Texas has the rudest, coldest DMV people I've ever had the privilege of exchanging two words with.) I guess you could chalk it up to being a bit shy, but to me its a matter of courage.

Is real courage being George Washington? Stonewall Jackson? Caesar? Last night as I read Matthew Henry's commentary on the book of Judges, he mentioned the "little" judges Tola and Jair. He remarked that even the bravest of men are overlooked when history is peaceful. These two men were probably as great as Ehud, Gideon or Samson. They just didn't have the challenges Deborah or Jephthah faced. But the didn't make them any less courageous. Perhaps it made them more so.

So what is courage? The hero of my book is a young boy asking himself that very question. He knows his father is courageous, for the man has been thrown into prison for printing truth in his newspaper. His father's fellow prisoners are renowned for acts of bravery: spies, blockade runners, privateers. Young Jonathan is shy and quiet. Yet faced with adversity, he rises to the occasion, helps his mother and siblings at home, and even visits his father in prison. People call him brave. But how can he be brave if he doesn't feel so? All he is doing is his duty as the firstborn and "man of the house". Surely duty doesn't fall under courage.

Or maybe it does. Sometimes it takes great courage to do what is required of us. Gideon feared the Midianites, but God gave him a task to accomplish. Elijah sat under a juniper tree and asked to die, but God told him to get up and face his adversaries. Christ Himself begged to be delivered from the cup He must drink from, yet He prayed, "Not my will, but Thine be done."

In truth, perhaps the duties required of us take the greatest courage we can muster. They take the grace of God.

Beth knew she needed grace. The love of her family, the support of her aunt – they cannot bring the healing she needs for pain of her soul. Yet months have passed since the accident. She continues to wear black. Remorse and loneliness haunt her days. She begins to think she will never live without them. She simply must pull herself together and go on.

Jonah never considered his gift with wood as anything of value. It gave him peace and solace in the midst of world he knew held great hardship. As a youth, he suffered a great lesson in God’s classroom of grace and love. He never knew that lesson came out in his carvings – or might help others also learn of God’s great forgiveness.

The Sound of Sleigh Bells by Cindy Woodsmall is a heartwarming story of trials and God’s grace. It reminded me of the hurts in my own life – the hurts I cover up in order to continue on. But, like Beth, God does not let us go on hurting. He is a God of comfort. He heals – even when we least realize it.

If you are looking for a wonderful story of love, forgiveness, grace and joy; you will love this book!

Want to purchase it? Just click here!

http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=9780307446534

“The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it.” Proverbs 10:22

I read this proverb this morning and wondered. What does it mean? How does it apply to my life? How do I see it in the world around me? Two things that happened this week made me think more and more.

The first thing occurred at work. For me, the patients treated under the hospice care are names and numbers. I don’t ever see them. I might hear a few things about them. Occasionally, I do speak to one on the phone. But when one of them dies, it means very little. This past week, several patients died. One afternoon I got a call from our social worker.

“Melissa,” she asks, “Mr. Pope did die this week, right?”

I agreed that he had. After all, I tore down his chart. I billed Medicare one last bill for him. I even read the bulletin from his funeral service that the nurse brought in and heard her speak about what a beautiful service it was. In fact, the man had blessed my life for as I read the testimony in the bulletin, I knew one of God’s own now enjoyed a heavenly reward.

“Why do you ask?” I replied.

“Well…I just spoke to Mrs. Pope. She seemed so-so happy.”

Now, I don’t know our social worker’s “religious beliefs”, but I thought to myself why shouldn’t Mrs. Pope be happy? Her husband is in Heaven. One day she will see him again. Now, I do not doubt she will have long nights, lonely hours and many tears in the days, months and even years to come. Sorrow mixed with blessing.

The second thing is a friend from camp. Although nearly nine years younger than me, Anna is one of my favorite friends and I love her dearly – all that in the mere five months I have been around her. This past spring, she lost her father in a tragic car accident. I didn’t know what to say then. I don’t know what to say now. But I write her long e-mails, pray for her often, and cry with aching heart over her loss. Yet in spite of all this, I know she is growing in her God. She is being blessed – with sorrow.

I think back on the trials my life has thrown at me. Some so painful I cried myself sick, shut myself off from as much of the world as I could, and shouted whenever alone. But when I look back at those days, I don’t think I would trade them. I see some of what God has made from them – roses from ashes. So many blessings. Yet so many sorrows.

So what does Proverbs 10:22 mean? Matthew Henry indicates that mankind chases after wealth only to find man’s source of wealth and comfort in it is full of sorrow. That is true. Some of the wealthiest men in the world are some of the saddest. They would trade every cent they own for one moment of pure joy. But God’s wealth never brings that sort of sorrow. It brings freedom and joy. More importantly, God’s wealth isn’t often monetary – it’s spiritual and everlasting.

This verse is only one of the hundreds Proverbs contains. They are short and “pithy”, but full of more meaning than you can contemplate in a lifetime. For the truth is life contains sorrow. No one can escape it. But for the Christian, that sorrow somehow brings blessing. We may not see it - we who see through a glass darkly. But one day all sorrow will come to an end. No more tears. No more trials. Pure blessedness. True wealth.

Oh, glorious day!

It is common knowledge that I love books. You have only to glance into my bedroom to see that. Even in Texas, I probably have more books in my room that a lot of people do in their entire homes – and I brought only a small percent of my collection. So, when I found a way to get free books, I didn’t think too hard about it.

It’s called “blogging for books”. A couple of Christian publishers have this program. They do it a bit differently, but basically you agree to read a book and then blog about it. What’s it about? Did you like it or hate it? Would you suggest it to others? Or would you tell someone not to waste their money?

My dream job! Read a book and write about it. Of course I don’t get paid for doing this, but every book I agree to read and blog comes to me free of charge. Can’t beat that, right?

So, on occasion you will find that my blogs will be about books. There will be a brief review and then my opinion on if it’s worth sharing or not. You’ll also find a link so you can purchase the book for yourself if you think it’s something you would enjoy reading. Sometimes there might be – but I also guarantee that at least one of them you won’t want to waste your time on, let alone your money.

“…and wringed the dew out of the fleece, a bowl full of water.”

“…for it was dry upon the fleece only, and there was dew on all the ground.”

The story of the judge Gideon is full of amazing providences and victories at God’s hand, but perhaps none are so amazing as the miracle of the dew. I never considered dew wondrous before this week. It’s there every morning when I get up, either wet and glittering in the sun or frozen over in a delicate frost. I might glance at it. I might not pay it any heed at all. But what would our world be without it?

So it is with the rising and setting of the sun. We think little of such an act, yet once upon a time the sun stood still. A miracle wrought by the hand of God to give victory to His people. And once upon a time, the dew did not fall to the ground except upon Gideon’s fleece. The next morning it fell everywhere on the ground except Gideon’s fleece. “…by which it appears that it (dew) falls not by chance, but by providence,” Matthew Henry writes in his commentary on the book of Judges. Pause and consider that for just a moment.

God is huge – much bigger, and wiser, and greater than our human minds can comprehend or imagine. Everything that occurs in nature is at His hand, wrought by His great wisdom. The breath of wind fluttering the American flag outside my window? God directed it. The clouds covering the sun and possibly bringing rain this afternoon? There is no “thirty percent chance of rain” with God. The lovely snowflakes that fall on dark winter nights? Each is intricately different – created by their all-wise Creator. The dew that falls to the earth every morning? Not one drop is there by accident.

Truly we have the love and care of a wondrous God.