Bodacious Faith, Roma Downey, Emilie Barnes, Laura Calder, Abigail Adams and More! Friday at 2:00 on The Homefront Show

If you’re like me, sometimes you need a little extra strength.   And a little, no, make that a lot more love.  A little faith, no a lot more faith.  There’s a song about having “a little faith” and it sounds all pious but it’s not.  God is not the god of just a little bit.  No more than we want our kids to sniff the spinach bowl and disdain the roast beef rather than enjoy the entire meal – no more than that does God want us to take just a little bit.

In the secular college where I studied economics, we were taught scarcity of resources, just as Satan intends we all be taught. Rather than being taught to simply create more pie, we are taught about that one measly pie.  By people of greed and lack we are taught greed and lack.  We have limited, scarcity, I’d-better-not-expect-too-much, if-I-prosper-that means-someone-else-can’t (but too bad for them), mentalities.

But God wants to give us all the good and then embellish it! He wants to give us the truck farm of spinach and serve up helpings of it along with the steak from our cattle on a thousand hills and finish it off with key lime pie shared with the neighbors under twinkle lights on our big decks built out over the water.

Livnig water. My nephew’s son has had an intestinal issue lately and they think it may be too much swimming in the river, which is low right now, stagnant.  Folks, we are all putting up with low water, swimming in stagnant water, and completely doing without the readily available living water of Jesus.

We think in lack. Even those of us with money in the bank think in lack.  Always in a defensive, “yeah but, what if” mentality.  And almost guaranteeing that the lack will come (we say what we believe and we have what we say, we get what we expect), and  even if it doesn’t come, we never enjoy what we have and where we are.

So, we need faith. I’m going to talk a little, but say a lot, about faith today, bodacious faith.  And we’ll see how so many things flow out of faith, and flow into faith.  We’ll see a cycle of faith.

So call anyone you know who struggles with doubt, who frets and worries, who has anxiety lines right between her eyes (anyone who is a human, especially a human female) and tell them:

http://www.1360am.co is the place to go, for The Homefront Show.

Also today we’ll talk about the power of posture and poise, about the Inviting Life,`Housekeeping Howevers, baking pineapple for brunch, about being a COI per Krista Dunlap, and from The Founder’s Bible we’ll see how two of our founding parents had great expectations for their children.  I’ll feature Roma Downey’s book, Box of Butterflies, and Emilie Barnes’ Tea Lover’s Devotional.  And we’ll begin today’s show with beauty AND PERHAPS A CORRECTION, from Psalm 19:12.

All this and more today at 2:00 Mountain Time at www.1360am.co

What’s Bothering Me – World Peace, Carpet Lint, or a Need to Fish?

I made a great list of to-do’s this morning, and I began with those things more important than anything on the list, and went from there to what was bothering me, and I think I’m onto something.

The list didn’t include coffee on the balcony with my son, or praying with my husband for a friend, or a long conversation with my daughter who told me that during her very excellent and productive Quiet Time she got “a word” for me.

Let me just stop and say something right here.  If someone has “a word” for you that makes you feel like a worm, and a very disappointing and disapproved worm at that, don’t swallow it hook, line, and sinker (go to the lake and go fishing instead perhaps).

But when “a word” is the very thing for which you were searching and thirsting, when it lifts your heart and drives out fear and chaos in your thinking, now that’s a word.  Rebekah read scriptures to me, which in a nutshell, said, “Be patient and be at peace.  It will all get done, nothing missing, nothing broken.”

I took a deep breath and thanked her and said this, “And you know what?  When you are in His peace, utilizing the power tool that is patience, those things do get done.  But when you’re stressed and frantically trying to make it happen, to make the time, it’s as though you have slippery fingers.  You’re always chasing and grasping, and like little slimy minnows, they keep slipping out of your hands.”

(It really does appear to be an excellent day to take a thermos of tea and some cookies and tuna sandwiches – there we go again – to the lake and go fishing.  No, better yet, let’s go to the creek, where there aren’t many fish.  I’m not interested in dealing with anything slippery.)

It’s just not that important that I catch fish.  But it is important that I do the important.  Time management advice, to a point, agrees with my advice:  Do the important things first.  But where prevailing “wisdom” says that would be write the book, work on the business, balance the checkbook, I say, “Begin with God and take His love to those He’s given you to love.  Now, you’re ready for the day’s dance of rhythm and grace.”

And so, in spite of the wanting to get right to the excellent things on the list and feeling all pumped and prepared, there’s something bothering me that isn’t on the list.  It’s the carpet in my bedroom.  I decide to leave it for later (which is what I did yesterday) because after all vacuuming isn’t important, right?  What’ a little dirt and lint?

But it’s bothering me.  So, I go to get the vacuum, happily anticipating the satisfaction, and therefore the clarity I’ll have for further tasks, after the floor is clean.

But as soon as I put my hand on the handle I know, as my daughter Hannah said when she was a small child, “We must write about this!”

So, the vacuum is at the ready and the floor awaits.  But you, Dear Reader, have this advice:  Do what’s really important today:  Give love as directed, and deal with what’s bothering you, whether or not it’s on “The List”.

Bev

What was the highlight?

mountains

This past weekend my daughters Hannah and Rebekah joined me and nine other ladies from our church at a women’s conference entitled “Women Arise!” held at Charis Bible College (Andrew Wommack Ministries) in Woodland Park, Colorado.

We arrived home Sunday just before my husband, John, arrived from the airport with my mother-in-law.  We all unpacked, chatted and chattered, and it wasn’t until this morning at breakfast that John got a word in edgewise, saying, “What was the highlight?”

Hard question, but I’d given it some thought.  The spiritual highlight was perhaps the final teaching from Audrey Mack, which lit a fire under me that seems to be getting hotter by the minute.

flame

The setting, the weather, the thousand small favors of God on each minute – these were all highlights.  Maybe, as I said to Hannah last night, “Maybe the most important thing was the bonding between the hearts of the women of our church, and no doubt between all the women there.  The revelation of sisterhood in Christ, the shared hilarity and heartache, the love..

John asked me a few more questions this morning, then turned to Rebekah.  “What was the highlight to you, Rebekah?”  Rebekah said she “got new dreams and remembered forgotten ones.”  She didn’t mention that we got to the conference early and feasted on Brat Kolaches and amazing pastries at Woodland Park’s Donut Mill, but perhaps we’d already said enough about that, and about the other culinary delights experienced by all.  If Rebekah was reticent, Hannah could regale her dad on that account at a later date.

Hannah was already gone to work when John asked his question, but she would have had so much to say, so much to praise.

I could say the praise was the highlight, the worship of our good Father.  I could say bringing home a heart full of praise and thanksgiving and joy was the highlight.

But how do you describe the highlights of God?  It’s all highlight.

Certainty.  I came home with certainty.  With peace and power and a new and greater level of dominion, a new revelation of authority in Christ.  More humility, more surrender, greater power.

More.  Always more.  Because His depths are unfathomable, endless, and marvelous.  I marvel at the question, and so enjoy exploring the answer.

How to choose one highlight?  Would it help to eliminate those things that weren’t my favorite parts?  There was a workshop time slated Saturday afternoon that I skipped out on, in favor of walking around the sparkling lake, crossing the high wooden bridge, and making tracks to sit under a pine in the sun, where I whispered to God and He heard me.  That was definitely a highlight.  So, even the parts that weren’t looking like the best parts, became highlights.

“It’s all highlight in Jesus,” I could say to John.  And I remember what I told Rebekah, and then repeated to John last night.  “You know what’s really great,” I said to Rebekah as we ate lunch on the way home yesterday.  “What’s really great is to go somewhere so astoundingly beautiful and have such a wonderfully blessed time, and yet the best part of it all is going home.

english cottage

And so, dearest husband, the highlight of the entire beyond-all-I-asked-or-imagined weekend, was coming home to you.

2:00 Friday! Decluttering My Way to Peace, Patience and Power Today on The Homefront Show

In danger of becoming Clutterblind, I have been to see Jesus, the eye doctor of my soul, and He said I am in need of patience.  If that weren’t enough, He said when I declutter my mind by spending more time with Him, my surroundings will also begin to take shape, and I’ll be cured of “Acquisition Angst” as well as “Hoarder’s Hell.”

He then prescribed SEVERAL scriptures to be taken at least 3X daily, and said to call Him in the morning, and indeed every morning, and also without ceasing throughout the day.  It seemed a bit over the top.

He smiled when I assured Him my symptoms, at least compared with other people I know, are miniscule, if at all existent.

Sigh.

Today on The Homefront Show (go to http://www.1360am.co) I’ll share the ways we clutter our minds, our surroundings, and our relationships, especially the most important relationship of all (and what to do about it!)..

Wise women from the 1940’s will speak to us about messy husbands and “Getting the Most Out of Life” and I’ll talk about how a wise woman today, in my church, has blessed me and helped me declutter my thoughts about the men in our church.

From The Founder’s Bible I”ll share a great home education idea, and I’ll showcase Melissa Michaels’ new and excellent book, Love the Home You Have., as well as Pastor James McDonald’s marvelous book, God Wrote a Book. 

In discussing patience and it’s power-twin, Faith, I’ll tell you where I need them most (hint:  it’s with other Christians).

And as always, much more.  So, get ready to take notes, call a friend who needs  a blessing, and join me today on The Homefront Show!!!!!

At 2:00 p.m Mountain Time simply go to http://www.1360am.co and scroll over the “Live Radio” button.

Thanks!

 

No Reproach, Mrs. Bennett, I Beg You! ESPECIALLY on the 4th of July!

There are potatoes to be chopped and bacon to be crisped to go along with everything else already ready for potato salad.  There is a feast to be shared and great and glorious words to be heard this evening at church before the fireworks.

(No, this is not my potato salad, but I thought it looked appetizing.  Mine has potatoes, celery, dill pickles, green and sweet white onions, mustard, mayo, sea salt, pepper, apple cider vinegar, and bacon)

As usual, there is much to be done!  But first things first, regardless.  Communing with my Maker in His beautiful Word, in prayer. in praise and thanksgiving.

“Thank you, God, for America.  For freedom.  For bringing me from glory to glory, from freedom to freedom.”  A nation is only as free as its people, and people are only as free as they allow Jesus to indwell them.  Free indeed.

I was free this morning to become upset because my breakfast and git-er-done plans weren’t quite panning out.  The raisin bread was generously spread with organic salted butter, the applesauce in the serving bowl, bacon browning nicely in the oven, coffee in the French press, Rooibos in the teapot, milk in the cow creamer and heavy cream in the pitcher.

And then it was time to whip up the eggs for scrambling.  But alas!  It appears that last night someone ate almost all the remaining eggs in the fridge.  Four eggs to feed five people.  I asked a daughter to go after more eggs (in another fridge in another building) so we could have breakfast before another daughter had to leave for work.

But the speed of molasses was quite fast compared to the movements of my tribe this morning, and early-morning logic told my daughter that she had to look ready for a photo shoot in order to go after eggs.

Temptation to sabotage breakfast with my stress and upset set in.  Temptation to reproach my beloved for scrambling not one, not two, not three, but six eggs last night set in.  Temptation was after me, plaguing me – to vent about “slow and lazy” people, to put labels onto my children they need like a hole in the head.

Who has the hole in the head, anyway?  Why didn’t I simply invite the daughter who’s leaving early to join me on the balcony with baked peanut butter on raisin bread and a lovely cup of French roast with heavy cream in the cool and birdsong-blessed morning?

I plugged the hole with praise and prayer and DETERMINATION not to gripe or complain or in anyway ruin the joy and beauty of the morning for my beloveds, and all of a sudden they appeared, smiling, hugging, thanking me for breakfast, eager to partake (perhaps the power of the wafting smell of bacon?)..

So I scrambled those four eggs, and the going-to-work daughter (who doesn’t care for eggs anyway) happily put peanut butter and honey on her raisin toast, and had thick and crispy bacon slices with applesauce and tea and was happy as could be.  Between the other four of us the eggs were plenty.  Where is it written, I asked myself, that we all have to have two or three eggs every morning?  No wonder I’m a bit sluggish after breakfast sometimes!

SO GLAD I DIDN’T REPROACH JOHN FOR EATING THOSE EGGS LAST NIGHT.  I was less tempted by the lack of eggs, than by my disapproval of late-night eating.  Reproach, I know full well, never changed a husband.  Conviction by the Holy Spirit of our Creator, perhaps put in motion by my faith-filled prayers, has often worked wonders in the lives of my beloveds.

Reproach, not so much.  Reproach is very often also disdain, disapproval, censure, judgment, condemnation, and shaming.  Guilt, in other words.  Guilt, as we all know from experience, doesn’t lead to repentance, to a true turning in a new direction.

“Do not reproach your husband,” has been ringing through my mind for weeks now.  I am coming to see, in my forfeiting my “right” to even the slightest of complaints, that I am setting myself free.  I am placing myself in a right position to be in God’s blessing, and out of God’s way!

“No lace, Mrs. Bennett! No lace, I beg you!”  Mr. Bennett (Pride and Prejudice)vehemently commanded Mrs. Bennett to spare him, but she blithely ignored him.  “Respect, Mrs. Bennett,” was his heart’s cry, and silly and foolish woman that she was, she sought her own amusement at his expense.

“The heart of her husband safely trusts her,” about the Proverbs 31 woman, is a verse of continuing revelation for me. “Lord,” I ask, “Can John safely trust me?” Usually, perhaps because of the following line, “He has no lack of gain,” my thoughts turn to money. “How can I do better in this area?”

But as we pass the years together, I see that more and more what John’s heart needs from mine is simply to love him as he is, even as he changes and grows right along with me, unhindered (I pray) by my interference in his relationship with God.

 

Oh, Father, I thank you for your patience with me, and for growing patience in me. And I thank you for this wonderful child of yours, John, whose heart you have entrusted to my care.  May I be ever more skillful in that sacred trust.  Amen.

 

Hooray!  Freedom!  Especially on the 4th of July.

 

Home School Help for Me!

I’m enjoying a book called  The Rhythm of Family by Amanda and Stephen Soule.  As I was reading Amanda’s writings about canning and crafting and all sort of creative and beautiful activities, I was comparing my efforts of past years, when my kids were young.

And I found myself weighed in the balance and found wanting – can you relate? Could we all just stop doing that?  I stopped myself with a positive “yeah, but . . .”

Yeah, but my kids made a hammock in the top of a tall oak tree, forts in the woods, ships on the creek, trains in the garage. They made up and wrote stories about the local rabbit family and buried and hunted treasure, caught and lost crawdads and lizards, and slew as well as drew great dragons.

They loved and were loved by an oddity of a dog. He seemed odd to us, that is, but to him his behavior was absolutely normal.  I’ll share more about this dog in a moment, but back to my kids’ having a childhood – maybe they didn’t live on the ocean in Maine and maybe their mom wasn’t the craft queen of the universe.  But she made them homemade fingerpaints when it was raining, and turned grape juice into popsicles when it was hot, and they know how to make artisan breads, and what a snake smells like when you get too close while you’re picking blackberries.

They still remember reading Timothy Tattercoat on a quilt in the shade with a thermos of iced tea and peanut butter on saltines. And through Timothy, a desire was instilled in their hearts to live where he lived, in the mountains of Colorado.

I mentioned our old dog, Buster, who died by the way, chasing a car, and as we told the kids – he died instantly as his head connected with a fast-moving fender, and it was probably painless.

Buster was better at chasing cows – they and he knew who and what he was.

We were walking in the country a long way from home one day and we came upon a pasture full of cows, in the corner farthest fro m the road. Buster went across the pasture, herded those cows to the opposite end of the field and they did exactly as he bade them. He was the boss of these big and theretofore unknown cows.

Not so Chihuahuas. There was a lady who walked her three chihuahuas past our house every day.  Benjamin, age 7 then, called her Mrs. Chawalla.  I guess Buster thought her dogs were giant rabies-infested rats – he was terrified and hid under the back porch and cried every day when they went by.

As for snakes, he would step on or over them and not even see them. Amazing.  But when it came to doing what he was created to do, he meant business.  He knew who he was.  He was a cowdog.  An Australian Shepherd.

We come to know who we are when we grasp that great truth that we are created in the image of God, who is Love, and we are therefore, when being our true selves, LOVE.

Which means – aha! – that I can rejoice in and admire the strengths and successes of other moms, and perhaps even emulate them in some areas; I can look back with appreciation for what I did right and ABSOLUTELY forget about what I might have done differently; and I can do a great service to my kids now, whatever their ages, by modeling the rest and contentment that comes from knowing who and Whose I am.

What a way to live!

Blessed Hospitality from Two Texans to Me

“You have the gift of hospitality,” said one of my two houseguests.  I thanked her, pleased with her response to my efforts, and immediately began mulling over those words, on one of my mind’s back burners, as we walked into the church.

It was our monthly women’s fellowship, where we were taught about being God’s gardens, and onto another back burner went the words, “We are God’s beautiful gardens.”  Ought I not to have a garden, as gardening is so great a thing, such a picture of God, such a living example of His bounty and beauty?”  Ought I not?  Shouldn’t I?  Or was this constant and yet-again thinking of where I’m probably missing something, only OK if done in a spirit of seeking a yet-higher place in Him, a further childish delight in discovery?

After the meeting one of the women, a farmer’s wife, talked to me about how she was expected in the early years of her marriage to have a big garden, and how she did so for years, but without any joy.

So perhaps that’s it.  Remove the expectations, the shoulds and the oughts, and recover the joy.  Make a garden less like an inlaw-pleasing truck farm, and do what this lady does now, plant what brings her joy – flowers, flowers, flowers.  Oh, and tomatoes.  More joy.

Joy.  This morning I found a guest out in the early morning birdsong on my balcony.  There she sat wrapped in blankets and writing in her journal (a gift the Holy Spirit spoke strongly and repeatedly to me about making sure to provide, complete with pens, pencils and beautiful highlighters).

I asked if I could bring her some hot herbal tea with honey, which she gladly accepted as she asked me if I would like to join her.  But I wanted her to capture her rapture on paper.  She said the air was “divine” and trying to describe the clarity of the golden morning light was something I hoped she could get into her journal, and better done alone.

I told her I might join her in a while, but first I was going to have my Quiet Time.  My “divine” time, and my time to capture some Light – the very light of God, shining in my heart when I put Him first, and minister to His beloved garden next.

“You have the Gift of Hospitality.”  A compliment, and so much more.  During the women’s meeting we all were instructed to give the person to our right compliments.  The woman to my left (who just so happened to be my other houseguest) said I was a woman of great faith.  I simply said, “Thank you.”  But I thought so much more.

What happens when we receive a Holy Spirit-inspired compliment?  In my case, inspiration.  I receive that.  I am a woman of faith.  This is no small response.  In the space of one hour I was told I have the gift of hospitality and that I am a woman of faith.

In two small moments I was humbled by God taking the care and time to speak to my heart through His daughters, and to thereby bind our hearts.  I am grateful to Him and to His messengers.

All gifts.  To me.  The gift of hospitality is one we give ourselves when we do it not as a duty to gain God’s and our own approval, but when and as led by Him, so that He is the author and the finisher of the entire process.

My two guests are now also my friends, and they have brought their blooms and beauties to my garden, as I invited them in by His goodness and grace.

“You have the gift of hospitality.”  Indeed I do.  And I receive the gift.

HEAR MORE ABOUT HOSPITALITY, FREEDOM FROM FEAR, HOW A FEARLESS SIBLING SAVED A PRESIDENT, HARRIET BEECHER STOWE’S THOUGHTS ON HOMEMAKING, WHAT FEMINISM AND MAO HAVE IN COMMON, AND MUCH, MUCH, MUCH MORE TODAY , FRIDAY THE 23RD ON THE HOMEFRONT SHOW AT 2:00 PM MOUNTAIN TIME.

GO HERE:  1360am.co

THEN:  Click on “Live Radio” and be blessed!