Mauri and Sherry

Last Sunday in worship Steve shared this video with us. One viewing wasn’t nearly enough for me, so I found it on YouTube to watch again and give you the experience too. The audio recording dates back to 1976, but the message is timeless.

You might have seen this but I thought it was good enough to post. We could all use a good dose of positivity now and then.

There once was a woman who woke up one morning,
Looked in the mirror,
And noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
“Well,” she said, “I think I’ll braid my hair today.”
So she did, and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up,
Looked in the mirror
And saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
“H-m-m-m,” she said,
“I think I’ll part my hair down the middle today.”
So she did, and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up,
Looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head.
“Well,” she said,
“today I’m going to wear my hair in a ponytail.”
So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up,
Looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn’t a single hair on her head.
“YEA!” she exclaimed,
“I don’t have to fix my hair today!”

Attitude is everything.

I wrote this for the February issue of the regional Friends newsletter that I edit—NWYM Connection. If it was inkworthy, I figure I might as well publish it here as well.

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How are you doing on your new year’s resolutions? A recent survey showed that of the 45 percent who make resolutions, only 8 percent actually keep them. That could represent a lessening desire for improvement or, worse, a resignation to inevitable failure. Have we lost faith in ourselves to keep promises we make—even those we make to ourselves?

On January 1 we sometimes resolve to remove excess, such as eating too much, from our daily lives. On January 2 we find a way to rationalize away that resolve. It took way too many of my 61 years to figure out that I am not entitled to everything I want. For something so simple as a dessert I had previously resolved not to eat I could unresolve in a moment because I felt entitled to it.

Broaden that simple example to other perceived entitlements, such as equality, happiness, freedom, justice. Nothing that depends on the actions and intentions of other humans can be considered a sure thing. Nothing. But Scripture abounds in entitlements, promises from God, and we can count on him to keep his word. Yet they aren’t always fulfilled on this side of eternity. Think about Jacob, whom God promised, “I will surely bring you back” from Egypt to Canaan, his homeland (Genesis 46:4). That promise was fulfilled only after Jacob’s death. You can probably list times you prayed for a promise to be fulfilled and felt God didn’t give you what you asked for. My husband, Mauri, and I each lost a spouse to cancer. Our experience taught us we were not entitled to lifelong marriages, even though we hoped for that.

These days I’d rather base my hope on God’s promises than on my own. I like what the writer of Romans said about Abraham. “He did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised” (4:20).

Quinn reminds me that Bailey, Marissa, and Cassidy faithfully include me in their prayers, that God will heal my broken ankle. When I’m visiting their home, they always invite me to participate in family bedtime reading and prayer time. I witnessed the way our dear grandkids faithfully prayed for Papa (Grandpa Neil) during his cancer treatment, then celebrated the way God answered their prayers when Papa got a clean bill of health.

BethanyL brought her young daughters, Hannah and Meira, to the office for a few minutes today. When Hannah saw my cast she looked up at her mom and asked if she could pray for me. She was a little shy about it but with her mom’s encouragement Hannah came over close to me and prayed “in her heart” for my broken ankle. And as she walked toward her car, she called out to me that she would keep praying for me.

I know my grandkids pray, really pray, and I believe Hannah does too. I’m grateful for parents who know the value of prayer and pass that along to their children by example. When I say to someone, “I’ll pray for you,” I want to mean it and do it, just like Bailey, Marissa, Cassidy, and Hannah.

Here’s a try at a short post that doesn’t use the words “bike” or “wreck.” I was riding two days ago, the first longer out-and-about ride (16-18 miles) since the…you know. It was a wonderful day, warm, not too breezy…perfect for a ride to/thru Champoeg Park—down the forest path and out the Buttville side. (OK, Butteville - but don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted to say it.) I was feeling strong on the ups and fast on the downs…altho’ a little reserved yet, probably because of the…uh, you know.

As I rode, the small “envelope of safety” inherent in my long-wheelbase recumbent became very apparent—sharply so on the bridge with biGrigs rumbling by…and amplified by our recent…you know.

So how to ride at all? Or drive on two-lane roads (always just a couple of feet from sudden death)? Or deal with the larger threats…like the possibility of a bird flu pandemic or terrorist nuclear attack…or who knows what? One common approach is to live in denial…just don’t think about it and hope for the best. Another is to consider the risk and take measured precaution. Maybe that’s what you do.

I recall watching a news conference…with either a real bigWig or bW wannabe, and the question was “Can you promise we’ll be safe?” For just a second I thought he might tell the truth—I pictured him laughing and saying the obvious…”what kind of dumb question is that?…but vote for me anyway.” Naw.

Probably most of us wish our envelope of safety was wider, and more stable, and regularly take steps…but I’m feeling a bump to consider not being quite so committed to it—not so much on the…you know, or two-lane roads, but in other areas…like watching/listening for God (and paying attention to others doing the same) and stepping out in obedience. To do what, you say? Not a dumb question at all, and I’m not sure…yet.

A hymn written in 1757 by Samuel Medley, we sang it together yesterday - but only four verses. Here are all eight.

I know that my Redeemer lives;
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, He lives, who once was dead;
He lives, my ever living Head.

He lives to bless me with His love,
He lives to plead for me above.
He lives my hungry soul to feed,
He lives to help in time of need.

He lives triumphant from the grave,
He lives eternally to save,
He lives all glorious in the sky,
He lives exalted there on high.

He lives to grant me rich supply,
He lives to guide me with His eye,
He lives to comfort me when faint,
He lives to hear my soul’s complaint.

He lives to silence all my fears,
He lives to wipe away my tears
He lives to calm my troubled heart,
He lives all blessings to impart.

He lives, my kind, wise, heavenly Friend,
He lives and loves me to the end;
He lives, and while He lives, I’ll sing;
He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King.

He lives and grants me daily breath;
He lives, and I shall conquer death:
He lives my mansion to prepare;
He lives to bring me safely there.

He lives, all glory to His Name!
He lives, my Jesus, still the same.
Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives,
I know that my Redeemer lives!

O Yes!

I can write about it now that it’s safely in the bank. A couple of days ago Mauri and I met with someone who has owed us money for several years now. For a while he had made attempts to repay it but those faltered. So his answering-machine invitation to lunch intrigued us.

We shared pleasant conversation across the table. Finally, as we cracked open our fortune cookies, the story unfolded. It included an accident and an insurance payout and because of that he had an envelope full of cash in his inside pocket, which he then revealed. He was obviously enjoying himself, had probably already lived that moment in his mind’s eye as he anticipated the offer he was about to make.

Yes, we’d take a lesser amount to call the debt paid in full. Win/win! He handed the envelope to me across the table, and I felt like we were filming some kind of movie scene as I counted the cash while holding it out of sight under the table. Since it was cash, I counted it for his sake as well as ours. We signed the hand-written payout agreement, shook hands, and went our separate ways. I think I watched him float down the street, so happy was he to be unburdened by the “elephant” he’d been dragging around all these years. We walked a little lighter to our car because being owed money can also be a burden.