Looking for Glow Worms

I am eight years old.
Night is falling.
And I am walking with my dad as I often do.

He holds my hand and makes up stories as I walk beside him along the country lane. We see a harvest moon overhead and he recites poetry as our feet step step through little puddles and splash the light.

This is England, and rain is a constant companion, even during the summer. We have at least two more miles to walk before we reach home. But the time will go fast because I am with my dad, and we are hunting, our eyes downward, our steps careful.

And if we keep looking, we see them hiding in the bushes, tiny magical lights that glow in the darkness, and will accompany us all the way home. We have found glow worms.

Almost four decades later I fly to the USA for the first time and I step outside the back door on a warm summer's evening and I cannot believe what I see. The entire back yard is filled with tiny twinkling lights, flying and flickering all around. I am amazed. I have never seen fireflies before. I feel like I am in a Disney movie. And my husband and our four sons watch them, utterly fascinated, for a long, long time.

Two years ago, I sit in a beautiful boat and I sail across water with my friends. The moon overhead is our guide and the stars our companions. We are night sailing, and it is breathtaking.

Just a few weeks ago I sit on the beach with more friends when the sun has gone down, and everyone else has left. And I think how sad it is that they have missed the best part. Because in the darkness I see the moon reflected and dancing on waves and stars appear from nowhere and lights from boats travel unaided as if suspended above water. 

And I think about all the beauty that is to be found when darkness falls...like fireworks, or constellations, or lightning, or fireflies, or tiny glow worms that accompany us all the way home...

And I want to be one of those lights that shine in the darkness for a child.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

And Then Came The Fall...

It's that beautiful time of year again, when trees dress up and wear their finest costumes, and line up in the street like models on the catwalk. And I am out endlessly raking and stuffing pumpkin bags with my grandson when I am reminded of this post, that I wrote a year ago...

 

One of the reasons why my husband and I fell in love with our home was because of the trees. We bought our home in the spring and watched in delight as all the maples, oaks and lilacs in both our front and back yards sprouted different colored buds, blossoms and leaves. Our delight continued throughout the summer, as those same trees brought much needed shade to our deck, creating a haven for squirrels, chipmunks and woodpeckers. And then came the fall...
The trees are still beautiful, the colors still breathtaking, the sight of the golden carpet that adorns our driveway still brings a smile to my face, but the raking is endless. After another back breaking trip to the compost heap, hauling a tarp full of leaves that must have weighed almost as much as myself, I found myself wondering...how could it possibly be that those single, tiny, insignificant leaves, with an individual weight of almost nothing, could combine together to weigh so much?
When I'm tempted to feel insignificant, and I find myself wondering if my efforts in children's ministry will ever amount to anything, I'm going to remember those tiny, weightless leaves and the tremendous weight of them when combined together. We are not in ministry alone. Together, you and I can make a huge difference.

Quotation Marks

I don't notice it at first. After all, I have read this scripture a hundred times. I know if off by heart. What new thing could there possibly be for me to learn here? But then I see the quotation marks...

This is the reason I have been attending Bible Study Fellowship for 12 years now- because of the new things I learn when I take the time to really meditate on the Word.

And so I am reading from the early chapters of Matthew when into the scene jumps John the Baptist- that wild, hairy, insect-eating guy whose loud message of repentance somehow drew crowds and crowds of people- people not only wanting to listen to his revolutionary words, but also ready and willing to be dunked under the cold waters of the River Jordan. (I know they are cold...I have been in them).

But the really interesting part is when Matthew quotes from Isaiah as he describes John's ministry:

A voice of one calling in the desert,

"Prepare the way for the Lord,

make straight paths for him."

Matt 3:3

 

 

But listen to the way Isaiah says it, and where he places those quotation marks:

 

A voice of one calling:

"In the desert prepare

the way for the Lord,

make straight in the wilderness

a highway for our God."

Isaiah 40:3

 

John is not just one who calls in the desert, but is a clear voice to all who find themselves there. 

 

And I hear the prophetic words of both Isaiah and John the Baptist echo in my mind. I know children who live in the desert. I know those who are out there in the wilderness. But there is always, always hope. Because no matter how dry the desert, no matter how wild the wilderness, we just keep preparing the way...and God will come.

How are you preparing the way for God to come in the life of a child?

 











What's Your Wallpaper?

I have the cutest photo ever of my new grandson. He is lying oh so still on his side, his forefinger curled under his little chin, his dark blue eyes focused intently on the camera. I promptly set this adorable photograph as the wallpaper on my smartphone. Now I can show it off proudly to anyone who enquires about him. So precious!

But there is one small problem. My grandson is somewhat hidden in the background. In the foreground are all the apps and icons that are so important to me...all the little buttons that I need to use every day. 

They are, after all, indispensable...one push of the globe gives me instant access to the worldwide web; an opened envelope with a number beside it is a signal that I have urgent mail; the icon of a file folder reminds me of all the important people in my life; the tiny green ear piece is the key to my phone; and of course the blue square with the letter F in the center is my link to the essential Facebook.

Then did I mention the camera icon, my Instagram app, the monthly calendar, my Pinterest link, the MapQuest button, or my highly addictive Scrabble app, just to name a few?
And the result of all this? When I want to see my precious grandson, I have to drag all those important apps out of the way, just so I can focus on what really matters.

What if God has become the wallpaper in my life?

What if I have placed God, my most precious possession, in the background, behind all those other important things that demand my time and attention? And if I am struggling with that, how can I help those tweens I teach every Sunday who are wrestling with it too?

I have learned the simple truth that on those mornings when I manage to lay my phone down, and put God first, my whole day seems brighter. And those tweens? Is there a way to help them experience that too? As a teacher, mentor, and spiritual guide, if I can be honest with them about my own daily struggles with the world, then maybe I can help them drag some of their distractions out of the way, so that they can see what truly matters too.

The Rottweiler

Irritation crept in as I pressed the handle down for hot water and heard a gurgle that told me the pot was empty. I was already disgruntled because I had to get up too early, and this did nothing to improve my mood. Can I help you? a bright and cheery voice said behind me. I turned to see the hotel breakfast attendant- a young man, all smiles, wearing his red Best Western apron with pride. There's no hot water for tea, I grumbled.
Oh, I'm so sorry about that. But here's another pot of hot water we use for oatmeal...can I pour some for you?
No thanks, I retorted quickly, you need boiling water for tea, and it won't be hot enough. I'll just wait. Still smiling, the young breakfast attendant poured some of the hot water into a dish and tested it with his fingers. Yep, he laughed, as he quickly withdrew them, it's hot!
But I am stubborn. No thanks, I said again. I'll just wait, and turned away. Less than twenty seconds later, the young man reappeared at my side holding a fresh cup of steaming water and a teabag. Here you go, he said cheerfully. Can I get you anything else?
For the next thirty minutes, I watched and listened as this young man greeted each and every hotel guest who came for breakfast, from the youngest to the oldest, conversing easily in Spanish and English. I watched him welcome, chat, laugh, run, fetch, lift, carry, clean, and serve, all the time wearing a big smile on his face. I was not the only guest to compliment him on his excellent service.
The young man's name is John. He is a senior in college studying Hotel Hospitality. And his philosophy when he comes to work each morning is 'to make everyone happy.' John succeeded.
I have no idea if John is a Christian. I have no idea if he knows just how Christ-like he is. But I cannot help compare him to a Christian man I once knew who stood like a guard dog at the entrance to our sanctuary, on the look-out for any 'undesirables.' I can still picture the scene as if it were yesterday, that Sunday morning when my son's friend decided to try out this 'religion thing' for the first time. And how the rottweiler growled as the teenager entered the church, and let out his most ferocious bark, Take that hat off! I distinctly remember how my son's friend turned crimson as he pulled his hat from his disheveled hair, in front of the entire choir, congregated in the entrance to the sanctuary, robed in their finest. Of course he never came back. Why would he?
And as I prepare to welcome children and families to our church this Sunday, I'm going to try my best to emulate John...because it's people like him who ensure that the Best Western hotel is full...while sadly, our churches are not.

The Turtle

Xander at the library

"You can make a turtle now," announced the lady at the library. She had just led a lively 'toddler time' for at least twenty energetic young children. We had listened to two stories, sung three songs, jumped around with teddy bears, and had fun with a turtle finger rhyme. Now it was time for crafts.
My two and a half year old grandson eagerly grabbed two glue sticks and a pair of scissors while I searched for the other essentials- but the only supplies were a paper plate and two sheets of green and brown paper. I looked around hopefully for pre-cut shapes of a turtle's head, or tail, or feet- but there were none. So as Xander cheerfully coated the paper plate with masses of glue, I set about trying to create what might resemble a turtle.
I carefully cut out two blobs for the head and tail, and four spikey feet, all the while talking to my grandson...this is the turtle's head, here's his tail, and so on. I don't think he was listening...he was far too preoccupied with his second glue stick.
Together, we somehow managed to stick the head, tail, and feet at somewhat appropriate points around the rim of the plate. Good! But just as it was beginning to resemble something like a living creature, Xander remembered the scissors, and decided to try his cutting skills on my creation. With one swift snip, the turtle's head was gone. Oh no! I cried. With the next snip, the tail was shredded, followed rapidly by four severed feet. Then Xander started snipping around the edge of the paper plate, and looked up at me to gauge my reaction. I laughed at my preconceived idea lying in shreds on the carpet while another grandma next to me commented, It's his project, not yours.

Every year faithful Methodists around the world dutifully recite the challenging words of
John Wesley's Covenant Prayer:

I am no longer my own, but yours.

Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will.

Put me to doing, put me to suffering.

Let me be employed for you or laid aside for you,

exalted for you or brought low for you.

Let me be full, let me be empty.

Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal...

Wow! Do I really repeat those words every year? Do I really mean them? Because if I do, then I must surrender my life to the snipping...because after all, it's His project, not mine.

Blue Toes

As I perch on the stool with my feet wrapped in soft towels, and feel the warmth from the hot rocks underneath, I decide to be bold and go with blue nail polish. And as I step out of the spa sporting my new blue toes, I am reminded of a post called 'Beautiful Feet', that I wrote while visiting England two years ago...

I stood, riveted to the spa window and could not believe what I saw. Three people sat, dangling their feet in a fish tank, whilst hundreds of tiny fish nibbled hungrily at the dead cells between their toes. An eye catching sign on the wall above boldly declared:

Fish are good for the soles. 

Welcome to the weird and wonderful world of fish pedicures- a beauty treatment that I, for one, will not be taking advantage of.
Besides not being thrilled at the thought of fish eating my feet, I have found a far more effective way of keeping them beautiful. Whenever my feet take me into my classroom or my community; whenever I can encourage a child, or show them they are loved; whenever I can lead by example, or inspire little ones to open up a Bible....whenever I can bring the Good News of the gospel to children, I have found the perfect pedicure. Friends, if you are serving in children's ministry, then you have beautiful feet too.
And it is good for our souls.

How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring Good News. Isaiah 52:7