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For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower thereof falls away.” 1 Peter 1:24

Man is like a breath; his days are like a fleeting shadow. Psalm 144:4

I was recently interviewed by a co-worker for our monthly newsletter.  During our session, she posed the question:  Name something that you’ve always wanted to do but have put off for years.  “You mean, like a bucket list?” I asked.  “Yes,” she responded.  I thought about it for a few moments and then realized – I don’t really have a list of unfulfilled desires anymore.  I usually get to clear out my “to do” list during my Birthday Year.  That’s when I give myself permission to pursue anything and everything.

Every so often I get the urge to celebrate beyond my actual birthday.  It’s not a specific year, like say, every five years or years ending in zero or even multiples of ten.  I just have to feel the need.  I may feel antsy or decide it’s time to challenge myself.  That’s when I declare my Birthday Year and pledge to celebrate all year long.  The funny thing is, I don’t usually do anything BIG or over-the-top (like bungee jumping – I’ll never understand THAT), or very expensive.  I just try my hand at anything I have a mind to do.  Maybe it’s because I try the silly things that I find the nerve to do bigger things.

My mom is a woman who always challenged herself.  Where her family was concerned, she was always thinking about how she could be a better mother and be more of what we needed her to be.  She always wanted more for her children than she had.  She didn’t get hugs and kisses or encouragement growing up, so she made sure that we got plenty to break that cycle.  Even into her eighties, she was a woman who instigated change in our family relationships.  “Talk to me,” she’d say.  She wanted to continue to grow and keep up with us and our needs as our world changed.  I still cringe when I remember the time she watched Oprah and decided we needed to have a conversation about me and my biological clock!  She was not a woman set in her ways but ever evolving.

I, too, found my inspiration in Oprah.  I haven’t watched her show in years but I have kept up with her transformation and how she continues to reinvent herself.  I watched with the nation as she exercised and punished her body until she declared herself to be in the best condition ever.  I watched while she trained for marathons and her body morphed until you could bounce a quarter on her stomach.  I sighed, “One day…”  I remember thinking and looking forward to the day when I could pursue my own desires and interests.  But then my birthday came and it dawned on me:  Half of my life could be already gone. One day is here!  Although I’m still in my prime, how long that will last?  I’d spent potentially half of my life waiting for “One Day” to arrive. I thought about my own mortality and recognized the need for a metamorphosis of my own.

That was my very first Birthday Year – in it, I did everything I ever wanted to do, not putting it off any longer.  That was the year I lost 60 pounds through exercise, alone.  I took up roller skating with my children – hadn’t been on them since I was a kid but I’d always wanted to try it again.  (I was afraid that if I fell I wouldn’t be able to get back up!)  I decided I wanted to learn Spanish so I went to the library and picked up some tapes on conversational Spanish, practicing with a helpful co-worker.  Anything that popped into my head that year was as good as done.  Just because. I felt the need to indulge myself instead of denying myself.  “Just do it!” became my motto.

The year I spent celebrating my birthday yielded some wonderful results.  Instead of worrying about the time I had left, I began to live.  I rediscovered me, becoming more than just wife, mother, church attendee and employee. I became more ME.  I enjoyed it so much that whenever my birthday comes now, I re-evaluate my life and see if it needs shaking up.  Usually by the time the year is over, I’m ready to get off the ride.  Birthday Years are hard work!  It’s exhausting to keep challenging myself.  I rise to each occasion and I learn something about myself in the process.  I come out of the experience exuberant and triumphant.

I found that roller skating didn’t lead to broken limbs and although I never did learn how to dance on skates, I did make my way around the rink without doing major bodily damage.  Even when I fell, I found I was able to get back up.  Every time I did, I felt a little less breakable and more resilient.  I found my mind was just as capable of learning as it ever has been.  I picked up enough Spanish to converse with my co-worker on a basic level but all I remember now is, “palomitas quemadas” because she used to burn her microwave popcorn.  And I found out, like Oprah, it is impossible to sustain that kind of weight loss unless you spend hours at the gym AND change your eating habits.

My birthday is also a special time because I choose that day to reflect on my life, the past year and my accomplishments.  This month marks the one year anniversary of “The Word in My Life.”  Five years ago, this month, I purchased my first home on my own and I’m still there.  That, in itself, is cause for celebration.  Four years ago, I began a new job – since then, I’ve gained recognition and created my very own job title.  This is the time I hold myself accountable because I know one day, God will.

Tomorrow is my birthday and once again, I find myself in the position of starting all over.  I am, as I was in the beginning, alone.  But this time, it thrills and excites me.  It feels like it deserves something “a little more extraordinary” ala Bridget Jones Diary. It calls out to me; murmuring, Birthday Year.  I’ve tried to fight the urge but I feel it bubbling up inside of me, crying out for release. The suggestion dances in my head because it knows the time is near.  It rises to a crescendo – Birthday Year!  I can no longer resist the pull; I finally give in – BIRTHDAY YEAR!  YEAH!!!!!!!  Let the celebration begin!  Toot the horns!  Toss the confetti!  Once more with feeling:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY YEAR TO ME!!!!!!

Be blessed,

Loria

“But the Israelites were fruitful and multiplied greatly and became exceedingly numerous, so that the land was filled with them. Then a new king, who did not know about Joseph, came to power in Egypt.”  (Exodus 1:7-8)

“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” Theodore Roosevelt

When my kids were about eight and nine years old, one of them said to me, “Mom, when I turn eighteen, I’m moving out.”  I froze.  “Really?  You’re gonna leave me?  Why?”  The last question was more of a whine.  This conversation was about ten years premature and I didn’t want to think about it, even then.  I geared myself up to lay on the guilt, heavy and thick because I didn’t want my baby to LEAVE me.  But then, my child stopped me with one question:  “Aren’t we supposed to?”  Which made me think:  “Ok, yeah – if I do my job right, raise them to adulthood and teach them how to take care of themselves and be responsible citizens, they‘re supposed to move out and be on their own.  Then they can raise their own successful families.”

It could be viewed, I reasoned, as a measure of success, maturity and growth.  So successful parenting meant encouraging my children to grow up and get out there on their own, not trying to keep them suspended forever THERE, as my babies.  Growth is a natural progression.  You’re supposed to move on after you’ve absorbed all that you can from that experience.

A phrase I’ve heard bandied about for some time is, “Bloom where you’re planted.”  It means you can grow or increase, right where you are.  You can flourish; you can create and go on to that next level or become something else, all within your current situation.  In essence, it means, you work with what you’ve got.  And that’s true, but only up to a point; this mentality can actually stunt your growth.  Think about it – a potted plant can only grow so much before having to be moved to a bigger pot.  There’s a limit to how much you can grow where you are.  Many of us have become complacent and stationary, spinning our wheels, treading water.  We find ourselves in situations that no longer fit our lives or enable us to use our gifts and talents.  We allow ourselves to be chained in relationships that are no longer healthy.  We get frustrated and wonder why everything is a struggle.   It’s because we have become stagnant.  But we resist growth because there is a very real fear that we could potentially outgrow something or someone.   And that frightens us because once you’ve outgrown your situation, it’s time to change your situation.

There’s that word again.  Change is scary.  It’s out of our comfort zone.  We fight to hold on to life as we know it because change can also be painful.  Who wants to change?  I mentioned this to my sister one day and she was surprised by my attitude.  After all, I AM the ADVOCATE for change!  But, I fear change as much as the next person.  It’s just that I’ve realized I am fighting a losing battle.  Change is the way of life.  It’s like a freight train.  It’s coming and there’s little you can do about it, except to make up your mind how you’re gonna deal with it.  When I see that change is inevitable, I see two choices left to me:  Get on board with it or get run over by it!  After my initial resistance, I usually enter a stage of acceptance.   Once you accept that things are changing, you can move forward.

The Israelites faced a similar predicament.  When Joseph relocated his family to Egypt to avoid famine, he’d moved them into a situation that would bless them.  The Pharaoh had great respect for Joseph and the God that he served.  So he made Joseph his second-in-command and later urged Joseph to move his family to Egypt.  The Pharaoh even gave them their own territory.  It was a very generous offer.  But there came a time when a new Pharaoh rose to power.  He didn’t acknowledge the God of Israel, let alone recognize their favored position as Joseph’s descendants.  He saw the Israelites as a threat.  He forced them into slavery and slew their newborn sons.  The Israelites blessing had become a curse.  The signs were evident, the new Pharaoh’s attitude was a BIG HONKING CLUE – it was time to move on.

So God sent Moses to tell the Israelites that he would lead them to their own land – a land of prosperity, flowing with milk and honey.  They’d spent generations growing beyond the large family of twelve brothers into a great nation of twelve tribes.  They’d outgrown their current situation and were being primed to move into the next level, their inheritance.  Moses was leading them to a land where God could bless them again.  So the Israelites left BUT they grumbled and complained all along the way.  At times they wanted to go back to Egypt because even though it wasn’t the best life, it was the life they knew.  They hadn’t truly moved on – their minds were still back in Egypt.  Their obstinacy led to their undoing – because they wouldn’t move forward in their thinking, they couldn’t possess the land God wanted to give them.  They wandered the desert for forty years like people lost, just out of reach of their promised land.

From their story, I learned this lesson:  The time to “bloom where you’re planted” eventually comes to an end.  God wants to take us forward, to bless us and do something wonderful and to move us on to bigger and better things.  Life is about moving on.  Somewhere along the line, I realized that fighting growth meant fighting change and potentially, fighting my blessing.  Now, when seeming calamity comes along, I am able to consider that it may very well be God, shaking me out of my comfort zone and telling me it’s time to move on.  Actually, I’ve resisted change so much, at times, that the only way I would or could move on is because God, himself, moved me.  That’s when he reveals that my landing place was only a launching pad.  It was meant to be a period of growth and preparation; merely a transition to take me to the next level.

So, sure, do what you can, where you are … and then move on.  Don’t put down roots where you’re only meant to make a pit stop.  I’m learning how to recognize the signs that a situation is no longer working for me AND that there is value in knowing when to move on.

Be blessed,

Loria

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”  (1 John 4:18)

The U-Haul handled like a bus and I drove it with trepidation as I pulled into the dorm’s parking lot. It was a huge van, set on big wheels and terribly intimidating to me. But, I drove it. I had to – my need to do this for my children overrode my reservations, causing me to “drive” right through that fear. I’ve always told my children: Courage doesn’t mean you’re never afraid. It means doing what you have to do, despite being afraid. So, here I was, afraid, yet still doing it. There’s something about facing your fears that empowers you. It gives you strength to face down the next obstacle.

As we unloaded the van at my daughter’s dorm, one of my ‘besties’ came out to greet me. See, a funny thing happened on the way to college – not only was my daughter attending the same school as my son but she was also rooming with the niece of my good friend, through no design of our own. They were matched completely at random. My only misgiving was could they get along as roommates? But I could not be happier with God’s choice for a roommate (because this was surely God working and no coincidence) – my kids have known her since they were small and we all attended church together. She’s tall and beautiful, with legs that go on forever. (Sigh. I’d like to be her when I grow up.) She’s also incredibly sweet, carries herself well and is, I think, a good role model for my daughter.

It occurred to me that God had a two-fold reason for putting these girls together.  In doing so, it resulted in my friend being there for me. For all my illusion of strength and control, I could still potentially wind up a basket case when the time came to actually let them go. Just seeing my friend encouraged me. It let me know that I was not alone. Help was right here, just in case I needed it. That made me feel strong. Although she came to deliver her niece to the dorm, I felt like God had her come just for my sake.

I said goodbye to my friend and then unloaded my son’s things at his dorm. I wanted to make sure the kids had everything they needed, so my daughter and I took a trip to Wal-Mart to stock up on supplies. As we were standing in the grocery aisle, I noticed my daughter was suddenly quiet. I turned to see a face, peering around my shoulder and leaning between me and my daughter. I drew in a sharp breath as recognition dawned on me. I gasped three times – My FRIEND! It was my good buddy and co-worker from my call center days. We used to study our bibles together there. I hugged her to me. It was so good to see her again and doubly so on this day.

She’d sent me a message that her own daughter would also be attending the same college and added; maybe we’d see each other on move-in day. I thought it highly unlikely as they stayed in different dorms but here she was – another good friend, there for me on my big day. I knew God had done that. I knew he was taking care of me. My heart swelled with joy.

As we left the parking lot, my cell phone rang – my sister calling. She made some excuse to hide her true reason but I knew: she was concerned about me. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying somewhere in a puddle of my own tears, having a complete breakdown. She was worried that my legendary strength, in this, would fail me. She wanted to be there for me, if needed, even if only via phone. Of course, she denied it. But, I knew. I also realized it was her love and the love of my friends that gave me strength on this day. I felt like God had surrounded me with his love. Who could cry then? I felt migh-TY blessed.

We drove back to the dorm. As I prepared to take my leave, my daughter said, “Come back. Sit for a while. Have a bowl of cereal.” By this, I knew she wasn’t quite ready for me to go. So I delayed, helping put away her things and assembling her fan. Then I called my son over to her room and hugged them both, saying my goodbyes. I’m sure my nose turned red (it always does, I’m told) as I fought to not cry. I clasped their hands and prayed for them, speaking the same benediction over them which has evolved in the years since they first left for kindergarten: “Heavenly Father, In Jesus’ name, watch over my children and keep them safe from all hurt, harm and danger …” I choked up from the memories of it. My son gave his sister a look that clearly said, “Here she goes!” He expected this to be the BIG breakdown. Mama’s gonna lose it. But I didn’t. I kept it together and walked out of the dorm. I soon realized my daughter was beside me.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“Walking you to your car,” she said. Left unsaid was, “Making sure you’re OK.”

Her concern was my undoing. My vision clouded and tears finally began to fall as she hugged me to her. This time, my tears were only for her. I was letting my baby go.

“That’s it, forget it!” She joked. “Let’s go back and get my things and I’ll go home with you.”

“Not after all the money I’ve spent!” I said. “You’d better stay.” Besides, I didn’t want her to become like me, a bucket of fears walking around on two legs.

“Don’t worry – we’ll take good care of your baby!” Another voice said.

I turned to see a man in a suit walking by. I had faith in his suit; it comforted me. I hoped it meant he spoke with some authority and that I could trust him. In any case, I was holding him to his word. As I looked into my daughter’s happy face, the face of a young woman now, the final piece fell into place and a light came on. I realized I could trust God to take care of her. He loves her, too. He would be with her. He put a lot of people in place to guide her and keep her safe. He is invested in her. With that thought, the last of my fears evaporated.

“Perfect love casts out fear,” I quoted to my friend and counselor one day. She responded, “There’s no such thing as perfect love.” But I thought to myself then, thinking of my relationship with God, “Yeah, there is.” God’s love is perfect. His love on this day, manifested through the kindness of others, eased my fear.

As I drove home, I shed no tears. I was jubilant.  I was triumphant. I felt safe in the knowledge that God loved me. I felt secure that my daughter would be taken care of. I knew that I would be taken care of.  I had no worries.  I drove to the library to get a book. I got out of the car thinking, “Oh, I have to hurry home because of the kids…” No, I reminded myself, I don’t. Then, I went to the grocery store, thinking of all the things I would need to get for the kids … No, I didn’t. So, I pushed my cart, thinking of all the things I would get just for me. And I grinned. I was truly single, again.

Be blessed,

Loria

“For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:19)

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away …” (Revelation 21:1)

It was momentous. It was STUPENDOUS. It was heartbreaking. And horrendous. This moment of truth. Would I be able to let my kids go? After my daughter’s trunk party, the remaining weeks left to us passed in a blur. Lately, when I looked into my daughter’s face, I saw the little girl she used to be. My baby’s face. “What will you do,” said my friends and co-workers, “when your babies are gone?” For my part, I tried very hard not to think about it. I really didn’t doubt my ability to handle it, at first. After all, this is what I had been waiting for and the culmination of all my efforts for the past 5 years. This mark, this measurement of my success was to see my kids raised to adulthood, in spite of all our setbacks and sent off to college.

“Stick a fork in me, I’m DONE!” I crowed, jubilantly echoing Al Bundy from Married with Children. My friend responded via email, “You don’t really think it’s over, do you?” But she couldn’t derail my enthusiasm. I’d accomplished my goal and saw freedom on the horizon. I was looking forward to that, I told myself. To be free, at last. To start all over again. To be truly single. My end was in sight. Wow.  Yay.  Right?

Problem was, reality began to intrude upon my little celebration. What would it really be like to not have the kids around? I forced my thoughts to veer away from that direction. I wouldn’t think about my soon-to-be empty nest. I figured it would only make matters worse if I spent our last few months together, dreading their departure. I put it off, delaying the inevitable like Scarlett O’Hara, “I won’t think about that today. If I think about that right now, I’ll go crazy! I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

As the day of their departure drew near, I repeated that mantra over again in my head. Just don’t think about it. Finally, Wednesday, the day before THE FINAL DAY, came. I had done all I could do. All the preparations were made. I could no longer put it off. I couldn’t hide from the truth of it by keeping myself occupied with tasks and shopping. Early in the day, I began to have panic attacks. I couldn’t breathe. My heart clutched. The words resounded in my head, filling me, “What WILL you do when they’re gone?” Suddenly, all of my good plans seemed like so much garbage. GARBAGE! I didn’t have a plan! Not a real plan, I moaned, inwardly. Panicked, I gave into the crushing fear of it.

It rolled over me, devastating me with the weight of it. Who do I think I am? I can’t do this! This is too much! I was overwhelmed by the thoughts of packing my kids, my daughter especially, off to college. I was intimidated at the prospect of renting the U-Haul and driving them. A U-Haul?  Who was I kidding?  I couldn’t do this – I wasn’t up to the task. Despair filled me; fear engulfed me as I wailed, “What’s gonna happen to ME?” And it wasn’t about my daughter leaving anymore as I gave into my grief and self pity. I felt pain, like I hadn’t since my divorce.  It was quite a party until my daughter heard me sniffling quietly to myself.

“Are you crying?” she asked.

“No.” I lied, pouting and moping.

“Punk,” she responded.

It made me laugh, just a little and lifted me from my funk long enough for me to see the real problem. It wasn’t just about separation anxiety, although that was certainly part of it. It was about my fear of the future. I was simply afraid of, well, everything. Of doing something different in driving the U-Haul. Of moving out of my comfort zone. Of being alone for the first time in 20 years. Of having no one to fill that space, to take care of and to take care of me. It was scary. It was starting over.

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7)

Along with this realization came an epiphany. Fear is not of God. I should have recognized the true source but the fear had grown, unchecked, until it drowned out everything. It was almost paralyzing in it’s intensity. I knew God didn’t want me to feel this way and the pain was so great, neither did I. So, I prayed. Initially, I prayed my fears.  Then the prayer morphed and transformed into a prayer of confidence: Lord, you have always taken care of me! I will not let the evil one make me fear my future and cloud my mind with doubts. At that moment, I remembered that God promised good things for me and I was comforted. I went to sleep and slept like a person who had no cares.

The next day brought a new Loria, one who had stared her fear in the face and conquered it. A Loria who could do what she had to do. I picked up the U-Haul, packed up my kids and their belongings and drove them away to college. The benchmark had been reached. The line of demarcation had been passed. A future filled with possibilities and a new world awaited me. No longer hovering on the cusp, I stepped into it, ready to face whatever the day would bring…

Be blessed,

Loria

“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people …”  1 Peter 2:9

“You’re chosen,” a pastor said to me some years ago as she ministered to me. Her words made me feel special but they were also a little intimidating. They smacked of DESTINY (loud resounding echo), another scary word. It was like, “Loria, meet your fate.” A Neo meets Morpheus moment, right out of The Matrix. It also felt a little daunting, like my choice had been taken away. Hey! Wait just a minute. I needed some clarification. “Chosen,” I said to my friend, because it was her pastor who’d spoken those fateful words. “What does that mean?”

She explained it as best she could, “Chosen means God chose you out of your family to save your family.” Why me? I asked. She offered her own theory – she believed that God chooses a person out of every family. He calls them to be different. She said to me, “Haven’t you ever felt different from the rest of your family? Like, even though you were raised by the same mother, you’re not quite the same? That’s because God has called you to be peculiar.” I did feel somewhat strange but thought to myself – who hasn’t felt that way at some time or another? I’ve pondered her words ever since.

“For I have chosen him, so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing what is right and just, so that the LORD will bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.” Genesis 18:19

Throughout the Bible, we read repeatedly, about the ordinary people that God has chosen. Abraham was chosen out of his entire family. So was David. And Jacob over Esau. Chosen. But what did that mean? In biblical terms, it meant they were singled out and accorded a special honor and responsibility. In Abraham’s case, he was singled out to start a family that would one day become a nation. At the time, he was childless. He was called to lead his household out of their present situation, into a land of promise and also, to be the leader within his family. Was he chosen because he was a person of exemplary character? Or was he chosen because he had no children and was desperate enough to believe God would grant his greatest desire? We know it was his faith that pleased God.

David was chosen to succeed Saul as king of Israel. Was it because he wrestled with wild animals to protect his sheep? He killed a bear and a lion that threatened his flock before he ever hit Goliath upside the head with a rock! That would make him a good champion and shepherd of Israel. David was also gifted in playing musical instruments and singing hymns of praise. He learned to pray and praise God while in the fields. It was during those early years that his relationship with God was formed. He became “a man after God’s own heart.” Unfortunately, he was not perfect and very capable of making mistakes. He was also humble enough to repent and look to God for forgiveness.

Jacob didn’t have anything to recommend him – no hymns of praise or great faith in God. No stellar character to refer him – he was sneaky, deceitful and a mama’s boy. Initially, it seemed he had no redeeming qualities and may even have been a bit of a slacker. He relied on chicanery and shenanigans to advance himself. Not a very auspicious beginning. Jacob eventually came to know God and realized he didn’t have to rely on his own schemes and devices anymore. God was with him. His story made me wonder: Are we chosen despite our faults or because of them?

God, I think, delights in using us, in all of our human frailties and imperfections. It proves always, that he is God and he can do anything, with anyone. I realize now that it’s because I am not perfect that God uses me. He knows me, intimately, in a way that I seldom let others see. And he still chose me, even before I knew what I was capable of. He knew what was in me because he knew what he put in me.

Responsibility comes along with the honor of being chosen. Many times we can accept the gifts of God but not the burden of responsibility that goes with it. For example, you see many athletes and celebrities who use their gifts to become wealthy but still insist, “I am not a role model.” They don’t want to be held accountable for their actions. They know they are gifted to lead; they understand that others want to emulate them and they revel in that. But they don’t want any of the blame for leading folks down a foolish path by setting a poor example.

I get that. I struggled for some time with the choosing of me. My faults, I argued, would make me a poor choice for any ministry, service or leadership role that God could call me to do. I felt like people would be watching me and expecting me to be perfect – or waiting for me to fail. I felt the pressure to be good. I wanted to throw off those bonds and not care who was looking and what was expected. I wanted to live my life and not be held accountable.

But then I saw the people I impacted, positively and negatively. I had to face the reality that I was a role model – regardless to whether I wanted to be or not. Good or bad was completely up to me. I said to God, “Ok – I get it. You’ve chosen me, for whatever reason – despite my flaws. I accept this calling, even though I don’t understand why.” At that point, I chose to live my life with the weight of that responsibility. Being called or chosen can be an honor and a privilege. It means you’re called to lead. You set the standard for others to follow. You are the example.

God initially chose me; now there is balance because I’ve chosen Him, too. It is a reciprocal relationship. I’ve made my peace with my imperfections and content myself with the knowledge that he can still use even me. I’ve learned to trust in His decision to call me. I have also resigned myself to being one of His “chosen” people and happily declare myself to be just a little bit “peculiar.”

Be blessed,

Loria

… Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God… (Luke 18:9-14, NIV)

I’m really starting to hate exercise. Well – I like what it does for me but I’ve stopped fooling myself that there is any enjoyment to be found in it. That’s a lie people tell themselves to trick their bodies into doing it, LOL! I suffer under no illusions now. It’s become something I must do if I want to keep this old body of mine working and in good order. Plus, it makes me look good, too! 😉 Sunday I was feeling kinda antsy. I’d exercised every day except that day so my body was craving it but I was fighting it. I finally gave into the desire and went for a walk. I will say this; exercise is also good for clearing your mind. As I walked I began to reflect on things and the direction my life is taking.

I wondered why some things I prayed for still eluded me. God has done so much but he has yet to put that final cherry on top – the crowning pinnacle of all my achievements. I walked and I grumbled to myself: I deserve this, I said of my desire. Why hasn’t it happened for me? After all I’ve been through? After the life I’ve strived to live? I was feeling mighty self-righteous. Why didn’t God give me what I deserved? But then it struck me – there are so many things wrong with that argument. First, it assumes that God owes me something for doing the right thing. I’m only doing what I’m supposed to do anyway. Second, it presumes that life owes me something just because of some of the harsh things (I feel) I’ve had to endure – punitive damages, of a sort. Lastly, it claims a superiority and favor over others who’ve had to live this life, like I deserve more than anyone else. As if, life is supposed to be more fair for me than anyone else.

Even as I saw the flaws in my way of thinking, I still demanded of God, “When will I get what I truly deserve?” But then I thought of all the things that God has done for me that met and even exceeded my expectations. I reminded myself that he usually gives me more than I asked for. “Exceedingly abundantly above all I could ask or think…” And it came to me, suddenly – I’m praying all wrong. I’m asking God for what I deserve. I should be asking for more. If I get what I deserve, I limit myself to what I’ve done, instead of receiving blessings with no limit. Getting what I deserve also mandates that I receive just recompense and penalty for my wrong doing as well. What I needed was BETTER than I deserved. And that is where I found my definition of mercy.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. (Psalm 51:1 NIV)

David, “a man after God’s own heart,” is one of my favorite characters from the Bible – not because he always got it right, but because he sometimes got it really, really wrong. But he knew how to repent. He would go to God and say, “I messed up. I really blew it this time. Forgive me.” And God would. I think that’s what’s so great about their relationship, why God loved him so – David recognized that he needed God to “get it right” and to forgive him when he didn’t. He needed God to bless him, not only because of what he’d done, but also, despite what he had done. In fact, I think one of the biggest lies of the enemy is when he convinces us to NOT repent, not ask for forgiveness because God isn’t interested in hearing our apology. God is always listening FOR that. He wants to heal and restore you and remove the stain of your offense.

Many of you will recall the story of King David and Bathsheba. She was beautiful. He saw her bathing and desired her so greatly that he had to have her, no matter the cost. He put his kingdom and legacy on the line, his relationship with God on the line and Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, literally, in the line of fire. Besides committing adultery with Bathsheba, he had gotten her pregnant. David had Uriah killed so that he could marry Bathsheba and cover up his sin. The more he tried to fix his problem, the deeper he became entangled.

Finally, the prophet Nathan came to see David and told him a story of a rich man who had everything but took, instead, from his poor neighbor. The story convicted David and let him know that, although it seemed he had gotten away with his crimes – which were punishable by death – God knew what he’d done. And here is where David sets himself apart from his predecessor, Saul. Instead of trying to justify or mitigate his wrongful actions, he accepts responsibility and asks God for forgiveness and mercy. He asks God for more than he a right to ask, better than he deserves. And God grants it, despite David’s crimes. God restored David to a right relationship with Him. He allows David’s dynasty to continue in the person of Solomon, the 2nd son of David and Bathsheba. Yes, there were consequences for David’s mistakes. He lived with them the rest of his life. But the consequences were tempered with mercy.

I pondered this revelation of mercy as I continued my walk. Without mercy, I would receive exactly what I deserved, good and bad. That was a scary thought. A humbling thought. I don’t want to go to God and demand he pay me what I feel he owes me. I don’t want to receive only what I put out. I don’t want to reap exactly what I have sown. I want the benefits of His “tender mercies.” By the end of my walk, I’d changed my prayer, my outlook and hopefully, my life. Lord, I prayed, give me better than I deserve! Have mercy on me! If there’s a consequence for a bad action that I must reap, temper it with your grace and mercy so that I may endure it. And if there is any good to come from anything I’ve done, let it be increased so that I get it back, multiplied, one-hundred fold! I desire your mercy without limits, knowing that you are able and very likely to give and do more than I could ever conceive.

Be blessed,

Loria

Then he took the cloak that had fallen from him and struck the water with it.”Where now is the LORD, the God of Elijah?” he asked. When he struck the water, it divided to the right and to the left, and he crossed over.
(2 Kings 2:14)

Elijah came upon Elisha plowing in a field. The prophet tossed his cloak upon Elisha’s shoulders, thereby declaring his successor as God commanded. Elisha hedged, “Give me time to go back and kiss my mother and father goodbye.” In other words, he wanted time to put his affairs in order. The prophet responded a bit sarcastically, with words to the effect, “Take all the time you want – I’ve only offered you MY job!” I’m paraphrasing liberally but you get the gist. This was no small thing, to be sure. When Elijah dropped his cloak on Elisha, he transferred his position, along with all his power and authority. Elisha would be THE prophet for God’s people.

So Elisha followed his mentor, dropping everything. He sacrificed his plowing oxen and used the plow equipment as fuel to consume them, signifying that part of his life was over. As they journeyed, Elisha received repeated warnings that his master, Elijah, was to be called home this very day. God was taking Elijah away in a whirlwind. But Elisha already knew this in his spirit. It was the “why” behind the prophet’s “hurry up and follow me” vibe. There was a sense of urgency to his calling.

As Elijah and Elisha drew closer to their destination, the prophet tried to send his protégé on his way, signaling the end of their time together. Elijah made excuses, like, “Wait for me here.” But Elisha would not be put off so easily. He insisted on following the prophet to the end.

The two men came to a body of water, the River Jordan. Elijah took his mantle, rolled it up and touched it to the water. The waters parted and they walked across on dry land. When they reached the other side, Elijah said to his successor, “Ask of me what you will.” Elisha responded, “That I would receive a double portion of your spirit.” The prophet told him that was a hard thing BUT, he allowed, “If you see me taken away, your request will be granted.”

Suddenly Elisha saw chariots of fire, drawn by fiery horses, descending from heaven! They swooped down between the two men and took Elijah away. Elisha cried at the sight of it, tore his garments and mourned Elijah’s “passing”. After Elisha witnessed that miracle, he gathered himself together and walked back to the river they’d crossed before. He touched Elijah’s mantle, now his, to the water and cried, “Where is the God of Elijah?” And the waters parted before him, too. Same God. Same miracle. Same power.

God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’ God also said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’ (Exodus 3:14-15)

His personal name – the name he revealed to Moses – has become a promise for me, as he meant it to be: I am. When I was afraid that I would lose my home, I prayed and He responded, “I am your shelter.” I lost my job and so I prayed and He answered, “I am your provider.” I left my husband, my security, to start all over again. I cried out to God and his name declared, “I am your husband,” to me. Time and again, God has proven and shown himself strong on my behalf. I think the only way to truly know him is to need him – to be at the end of your rope. He gave us a basis for trusting him when he identified himself as the same God who dealt with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. His reputation precedes him. He wants us to know him by his miracles and make the connection that he will do the same for us.

While working at the call center, I made many friends – some of us are still friends to this day, some 10-15 years later. One of my friends was a new Christian like me and totally in love with the Lord. Back then, we would fantasize about being called into his service to do great things. We wanted to be used and know God like the heroes of Biblical times. My friend had a saying: Lord, I wanna know you like I KNOW you! Meaning, she wanted to have an intimate relationship with God. We both wanted to be able to say, “The God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and ME!” We yearned for more, not actually realizing the extent of what we were asking. I have since come to the realization that the only one way to KNOW God that way is by having him repeatedly snatch you from the fire!

Recently, another friend asked me to pray for her because she felt I could “get a prayer through.” As if, I had some special power to influence God. I laughed (but I also prayed). I know God loves me and he hears me but I’m not arrogant enough to believe he hears me anymore than he hears anyone else. Actually, I’ve usually been that person in the past who has asked other, powerful praying people, to pray for me! It was funny and ironic that she asked that of me.

But it made me think: Did these prayer warriors have more sway with God than I did? Do I have more than my friend? I didn’t think so. Like Elisha, I’ve seen some of his glory – I know what he can do. Based on who he has revealed himself to be throughout the Bible and what he has done for me, I feel I can go to him and ask: “Where is the God of Elijah? Where is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? You did it for them; surely you can perform a miracle for me! I need you to be my God, too, here and now.” Then I hope and hold on, waiting for him to perform it because he’s been my salvation many times. When I ask Him to show up, I believe He will.

It came to me today, that the mantle and authority is still being passed – the power is no longer in the garment but in the relationship. It rests on me; it rests on you and all of us who are seeking that closer relationship with God and desire to be used by him. You, too, can go boldly to his throne because He is not a “respecter of persons” or, of your station in life. That is to say, you don’t need someone else (minister, prayer warrior, or me 😉 LOL) to speak on your behalf. You can say, “Where is this God of Elijah? Of Elisha? Of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? Of Loria? I need you to be there for me, like you were there for them.” And then you will see your own miracle.

Be blessed,

Loria

“… He came to a broom tree, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life…” (1Kings 19:4)

I love the Old Testament. When I was a young girl, my grandmother gave me a book called “Beautiful Bible Stories.” I read it from cover to cover, until it was pretty worn. That began my love affair with the His Word. One of my favorite stories from the Old Testament is the story of Elijah and the Battle on Mount Carmel. It was EPIC!

Israel had fallen into serving pagan gods (Baal and Asherah) at the instigation of Jezebel, King Ahab’s wife. Because of their idolatry, God caused a drought to come upon the land – no rain at Elijah’s word. Elijah was a wanted man so God hid him until the appointed time and then sent him to Ahab to challenge Jezebel’s prophets to a contest. Winner takes all.

Elijah, the pagan prophets and all of Israel (including Ahab) gathered on Mount Carmel. The contest was simple – build your own altar, prepare your own sacrifice, pray your own prayer BUT your god had to light the fire. So the prophets of Jezebel (450 for Baal, 400 for Asherah) prepared their sacrifice per the instructions and prayed to their god – all morning long. Nothing happened. They grew more desperate and began to cut themselves, trying to invoke their god as Elijah taunted their efforts.

Finally, Elijah took his turn – he prepared his altar and his sacrifice and then dug a deep trench around the altar. He had water poured on the sacrifice several times, drenching the wood and the offering until the trench was full of water. And then he prayed. God immediately answered by fire which rained down from heaven onto the altar. It consumed the entire sacrifice and licked up the water in the ditch! “Our God IS God,” Israel began to chant. Elijah prayed again and God sent rain to relieve the land. He gave Elijah a supernatural burst of energy so that he outran the horses of King Ahab’s chariot. I imagine Elijah running, giddy with victory.

Meanwhile, Jezebel’s prophets had been destroyed at Elijah’s command – she did not take that news well. She swore vengeance on Elijah, sending him on the lam. Again. And this is where we catch up with Elijah. No longer riding the wave of euphoria, he’s feeling worn down, maligned, mistreated, unappreciated. Attacked. He’s tired. He just wants to give up. He’s so overwhelmed that he lies down under a tree and goes to sleep, praying for death to overtake him. At this point, God sends an angel to minister to him. The angel awakened Elijah and urged him to eat because “the journey was too great” for him. (I sometimes wonder – what does food prepared by an angel’s hand taste like? Hmmmm.)

On the strength of that meal, Elijah was able to travel for 40 days to Horeb, the mountain of God. There he spent the night in a cave where God spoke to him, asking, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Elijah listed his complaints, all he had done for God and, to top it off, how Jezebel was looking to kill him. Besides that, he felt he was the only true servant of God left. So the Lord told Elijah to step outside so they could have a little chat. The wind tore up the side of the mountain but God wasn’t in the wind. And the mountain shook with an earthquake but God wasn’t in the earthquake. Fire manifested but He wasn’t to be found in the fire, either. Finally, a gentle whisper came, in the stillness, in the quiet, God spoke to Elijah.

This is where my own story picks up. I’d been taking stock of my life and feeling pretty good about my accomplishments. I was feeling victorious. But last week was rough. I ended the week trying to fight back tears as I thought about how I had been treated. Like Elijah, I thought: Wow – this is the thanks I get? After all of the major battles (epic, for me) that I’ve fought and won, this is how it ends? Not with a bang but with a whimper? It just didn’t seem fair. And the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. Mentally, I was curled up in the fetal position. Then I got angry. The more I thought about how I was wronged, the more self righteous my anger became; it encased me, turning me hard. It felt all wrong – evil and insidious.

When I realized it was morphing into something else, I knew I had to let it go. I had to. I’d already lashed out and hurt someone – it had become a weapon. It didn’t feel good. So instead of fighting back the tears, I released them. I journaled my pain. Instead of complaining about how right I was and how wrong the other party was, I cried out to God and asked him to take that pain away. So that I could think about it without hurting. So that I could move on. So that I wouldn’t lash out. So that it wouldn’t change me. Talk about a battle of epic proportions! The fight between good and evil, inside of me. Would I continue to nurture that hurt and let it fester until I felt justified in hurting someone else? Or would I use it as an opportunity to grow and become a better person?

As it turned out, I didn’t have to make a conscious decision. Thankfully, I found the comfort I was seeking in the tears that I shed. Crying brought clarity. As Miss Sophia said in The Color Purple, “All my life I had to fight!” In my case, I’ve fought to appear strong. I hated to cry or for people to see me cry. It felt weak. But as I’ve matured, I’ve learned to embrace tears. Rather than making me weak, I feel it makes me strong. It allows me to get rid of the garbage that hurts me. So I cried until I forgave the person who hurt me. I cried until I could think of it without crying more. I cried until it no longer mattered what they did or why. It only mattered that I didn’t let it change me.

That’s what I was fighting for – that right there, was the real battle. And, as with Elijah, God sent a friend – an “angel” – to minister to me, to provide comfort and encouragement because I was feeling too overwhelmed by this journey. And like Elijah, I found God when I needed him most, where I least expected him but right where I needed him to be.

Be blessed,

Loria

“Then he continued, “Do not be afraid, Daniel. Since the first day that you set your mind to gain understanding and to humble yourself before your God, your words were heard, and I have come in response to them.” Daniel 10:12

When a friend told me about the “100 Answered Prayers Challenge,” I was intrigued. It’s based on a book she’s reading, Surprised by Prayer by Karen Barber. Initially, I thought it was just recording your prayers and waiting for the answers. Being a person who sometimes journals, I am familiar with documenting and recording your prayers. I was never truly motivated to keep it up, finding it rather tedious. But my friend revealed to me the twist – you’re not recording your prayers, only your answers. That hooked me. I would record the prayers that God answered until I got to one hundred. I felt it would be a great way to be cognizant, always, that God is working in my life today.

So, a couple of weeks into it and a quarter of the way through, I had an epiphany. The reason that recording my prayers hasn’t worked for me in the past is because I pretty much used it as a wish list. Nothing really wrong with wish lists but it keeps you focused on what you want – not on what you are getting. You could be missing out on some wonderful blessings that are staring you in the face but all you see is that your specific prayer on the list hasn’t been answered.

My daughter is your typical teenager; she wants what she wants, when she wants it. One day, she insisted that I do something for her and when I refused, she treated me as if I never did anything for her. Now, mind you – we’ve had an exhausting school year, culminating in prom and graduation. Everything I’d done to make her senior year special was forgotten, all because I didn’t grant this request. Her attitude offended me and I told her she had a very short memory. She was too focused on what she wasn’t getting to appreciate what had already been done and the sacrifices I’d made. Thankfully, as she is maturing, she’s getting better – not so much “Me, me, me – now, Now, NOW!” I realize my job as a parent is not over as I teach her to appreciate what she has now and not focus so much on immediate gratification. As I thought about her, I thought of my own relationship with God. When we make lists of things we want, sometimes all we see is what we’re not getting.

This challenge has changed my focus. As I document answers, I am reminded that he is present and actively involved in my life, right now. Some of these prayers are long standing, ongoing prayers for me and my family. Like the day I realized that my son was surrounded by good influences, which is always a mother’s desire. Or the day he told me that he respected me. Me. One of the reasons I divorced was because I felt I was losing the respect of my children. I needed to be able to look them in the eye and say truthfully, “God is everything; with him you can do anything. He is always with you.” And then, I had to set about living it and proving it to them because children are quick to expose hypocrisy. It has to be real for you, if it is to be real for them.

Some answers are the result of prayers not even vocalized. When we went to my daughter’s orientation we found that if she didn’t take a class before the term began in the fall, she would have to do that in addition to her regular classes. I worried that she would have too much to deal with during her freshman year and would be overwhelmed. While I sat in the auditorium, trying to figure it out, God was already working it out. By the end of the day, the situation was resolved and she found the class was unnecessary. I recognized that as answered prayer because of the sense of relief that washed over me. God saw my problem and solved it, before it could even become an issue.

I realized that some answers are, surprisingly, almost immediate or soon thereafter. When I pray for favor on my job, God usually turns the situation into a favorable outcome for me. Or when I pray about a person who is being difficult, they do a complete 180 degree turn and are suddenly smiling and pleasant. Some answers are in a comforting word. When I wake up with a song in my mind, I know that He is comforting me. The other night, I went to bed feeling particularly discouraged because of an unkind word. The next morning, I awakened to the words of Time will Reveal by El DeBarge: “More precious than silver, more precious than diamond rings or anything …” That line played in a continual loop in my head and I knew God wanted me to know how much I am worth to him. A love song from God – the thought made me smile.

Some answers are in his presence. When I was newly single, I felt discouraged and out of my league as a homeowner. I was overwhelmed by all it entailed. I’d never taken care of a home before – I didn’t even know how to mow the grass. My pool was a real source of dismay for me. I couldn’t get the darn thing to remain clean! The water would turn a dark murky green. Every time I saw it, it became the symbol of my failure as a homeowner and my heart would sink into my stomach. Still, I would often sit on my deck overlooking the pool and meditate in the early morning or late evening. The humming of the pump and gurgling of the water was soothing. One day as I was talking to God, a shaft of sunlight beamed directly on the pool and the water suddenly turned a crystal clear, beautiful blue. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt the presence of his Spirit. My dog came over to me and nudged my hand so that I could pet his head – I think he could see and feel it, too. He leaned his big body against me as I cried and was comforted. I thanked God for his Spirit, his manifestation. The vision cleared and the pool returned to normal but that experience remained with me.

So I remind myself now, rather than look at a particular unanswered prayer and feel discouraged, that He is ALWAYS answering me, in some form or fashion. Like Daniel, I have found that he hears me and may be devising an answer, a solution or comfort as soon as (or even before) my need is realized. I think about how I feel when my children only see what I haven’t done instead of all the good that I do. It seems mighty ungrateful. Like my daughter, I’m maturing – God is doing for me what I am doing for her. He’s helping me to change my focus so that I can see and appreciate everything that he does for me.

Be blessed,

Loria

P.S. For more information on how to do the 100 Answered Prayer Challenge, go to: http://www.personalprayerpower.com/php/100prayers.php. If you have a special story to share about how God has answered your prayer, I’d love to hear it!