My First Prayer

I was six and in the first grade.  We had just moved from Louisiana to Missouri and few understand my southern drawl.  Of course being a "preacher's kid" I found myself in a new church with a new Sunday School teacher and being shy I wondered how all this was going to work out.  But there she was a small thin woman called Mrs.White who talked with a southern accent!  If I had been older I would have said "Praise God!"  but as a child all I knew was at least she would understand me.  Mrs. White not only taught our Sunday School class she led the Elementary Sunday School opening each Sunday.  One of her requirements was to learn the "Lord's Prayer".  Now this was WAY back when first graders were barely able to read anything other than Dick, Jane or Spot so learning a big long prayer meant listening and remembering. Each week we would repeat more and more of the prayer until we could finally say it along with the rest of the older kids in the Sunday morning opening. Now you are probably thinking kids are like sponges and can memorize easily.  After all there is little stuff to clutter their sweet minds. True, but Mrs.White made a big impression when she said this is something you will use for the rest of your life.  She didn't spend a lot of time telling us what it all meant.  It was Jesus' prayer and everyone just needed to know it.  THEN I discovered the same prayer the children were saying was said in church each Sunday by the adults.  I remember thinking Wow!, even they have to say it!

I am so thankful for Mrs. White; she loved me enough to teach me a life long prayer which has sustained me for all my life.  I wonder what I have taught that will last that long?  Maybe we all are supposed to keep teaching, praying and loving.  Sounds like someone I call Jesus.

Suffice it to say....

Suffice it to say we do not have visitors at our house very often. Seeing a truck parked at the end of the drive on Monday and coming home from a less than stellar day I was curious.  Barely able to get my car off the street I watched a young man hurry toward me.  "Ma'am, I think I have some really bad news."  My mind raced through thoughts of what in the world does this stranger know and what could possibly have happened?  The next thing he said was, " I think I hit your dog" He pointed to our house, "that's where you live isn't it?"  "Well yes, but our dog is never out without a leash"  Then as if time stood still I recalled another windy day like this one when the wind blew our front door open and Shadow slipped out only to meet a horrific end.  Quickly I reassured myself surely this would not happen again.  The young man spoke rapidly, "is your dog brown and white?"  A feeling of relief swept over me and then a second feeling of sadness that this was some one's pet.  The young man kept saying "I didn't know what to do, he just ran out so fast and I have my three year old daughter with me so I parked here so she wouldn't see. 

"Let's take a look, are you sure he is dead?" I asked.  We walked down the hill and I could see a half grown springer spaniel pup lying in the street.  The street is four lanes and always very busy with cars doing well over the 40mph speed limit.  I walked out into the street and asked the young man to watch for traffic.  I bent down and could see a sweet pup had made a serious mistake.  You see our property is surrounded by woods and no doubt the pup was out for a hunt on this windy day when he suddenly decided he better get home and ran into the street with no thought of the danger.  Now he laid still with just a red collar, no name, no way of knowing who might be his owners.

 What happened next was what causes me to share this. I reached down to pick the pup up, he was still warm.  I stroked him gently and then began to put my arms under him to lift him and place him  in the grass next to the sidewalk.  When I began to lift him I was not lifting him alone.  There was definitely something else helping me.  I felt a sense of peace  pulse through me and my mind filled with the thought this is a transition somewhere between life and death.  You might be thinking this was just an animal, but I believe the Creator God loves all living things.  And I am not here to say anything about where animals go when they die but I do believe I was there at the right time and had help beyond me.

I commend the young man for staying and caring.  He was devastated this happened and my husband and I tried to reassure him this was just an accident.  My husband moved the dog to the curb so anyone looking would see him.  He spoke quite awhile to the young man assuring him he did nothing wrong but thanking him for staying.   My husband lovingly said to me, "I think the pup was treated well in death" That made me feel good.  My day had oddly turned around, still sad about the pup but thankful I was the one (with a little help) who lifted him up and carried him to a place where he could lay in peace. 

Amazing how God can work you into His plan.

PS The pup was gone the next morning.  I grieve for the family but hope they somehow know "he was treated well in death".

Angels in Wal-Mart?

Are there angels in Wal-Mart?  If you would ask me I would probably say not likely.  Now I'm not so sure.  We were doing our weekly shopping on Friday when I ran into a bunch of "throw rugs" in one of those "middle of the aisle boxes" that seem to say this is a "real deal!"  Before I could pass by I remembered someone mentioning my office at St. Mark's with its new tile floor could use a rug to help warm up the environment.  Now here I was standing in front of several reasonably priced "throw rugs" (who ever thought up that name?)  And so I chose a multi-colored piece reasoning how anyone could ever match the tan color of the tile would be impossible.  Then a solid black rug caught my eye.  It looked rich and lush and I began to ponder my choice. (a woman's prerogative)  My wise husband suggested the black would look the best.  He has a good eye for this sort of thing so I decided, yes, the black would do nicely.  Just as I picked it up and put it into the basket a young man came over and said, "Did you know the rug has skulls and cross bones carved into it?"  "Really, are you kidding?"  I answered.  My next retort was, "Do you think it would go in a pastor's office, I am one you know,"  I said smiling.  The young man just got an odd look on his face and stumbled away.  Looking more closely at the rug we discovered, yes, you could see the skull and cross bones faintly below carved into the fabric. 

Needless to say I did not take the rug.  And I was grateful to have been warned.  We laughed at the thought of me taking it to the church and unrolling it before my desk in the brand newly remodeled office only to see the surprise the rug contained.  You might think little of this except I felt that "feeling" I get once in a while when the message being delivered is bigger than the words spoken.  And in the blink of an eye the young man was no where to be found when we looked around, another confirmation this was something unusual.  Now, I don't think the message had anything to do with saving me from making a decorating error.  I believe the lesson was sometimes we need to look closely and carefully at where we are headed and what or whom we are taking with us.  The "feeling" was spiritual and my husband felt it too.  Sometimes God speaks to us boldly by saying, "Stop and look carefully, include me in your decisions big and small.

Okay, God I'm listening, even in Wal-Mart.

The Kitchen

Our kitchen is old and sorely in need of a remodel. However it an unwritten rule that every time someone is invited for supper regardless of where you plan to eat everyone ends up in the kitchen! The kitchen seems to always be the heart of the home, a place where meals are fixed, families and company congregate, serious discussions are held, homework is completed, and a sort of sensory DNA is imparted to multiple generations through smell, taste and tradition. As a child I recall sitting in the kitchen every evening watching my mom fix supper and just talking. Those talks were foundational to whom I have become. Wisdom came from my questions about life and the conversational answers given. The conversations around the dinner table also were nightly a debate over history, politics and ethics. My father and brothers kept the conversation lively to say the least. And despite the heated voices from time to time everyone left the table with much to consider and no one was mad.

Today we might try to convince ourselves that technology is the most important component of our lives but I would offer this thought. How many of us can find a sense of joy and connection when we think of those times spent in the kitchen? Holidays are started and ended there, company and family gathers there, the smell of mom's or grandma's special dish linger in our memory and we equate our time spent there as valuable to us and others.

It all makes me hopeful that in God's house there is a BIG kitchen. Do you suppose?