Choose Joy

 I was listening to a podcast this week while walking, taking a break from audio books. I must encourage you to listen to anything Sally Clarkson writes or records. She comes from a Christian perspective, and particularly ministers to women of every age. Her voice of wisdom is like water for thirsty ground.

 

One of the topics recently was living with joy. I was captivated by her words of encouragement and truth. How do we choose joy when life has dealt us one blow after another? How do we rise to the level of trust in our God when the worst has happened?

 

Not a single one of us has escaped tragedy of some sort. You’re either coming out of a trial, entering a trial, or are firmly established in a trial. Personal relationships are usually found at the center of our deepest woes, but also financial worries, cultural and political wars, and health issues. The great equalizer of the human condition is that none of us are spared trouble. So how do we respond as believers in a faithful God?

 

If you’ve lived long enough, you can testify to the fact that nothing stays the same. As I reflect on my 60+ years, I know that life has balance and rhythm. The very thing that tore me apart twenty years ago is insignificant today, and yet it shaped me into the person I am now. Does that mean I chose joy every time? No, it does not. It’s taken a lifetime to recognize the beauty of choosing joy when my world is falling apart.

 

We all have ongoing pain from a multitude of sources. How we respond makes an impact on our total person, but it also has an affect on those around us. 

 

There are cliché sayings, some even evoke eye-rolls, but when you truly grasp the meaning behind the familiar words, nuggets of truth emerge.

 

“God won’t give us anything we can’t handle.”

There are many things I can’t handle, but because I am never alone, His Spirit lives within me, I can truly say there’s nothing I can’t handle. That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, but it means I can choose to trust the One who walks with me, guiding me in the path I should go. Choosing joy allows me to move forward in trust.

 

“When the cares of my heart are many,

your consolations cheer my soul.”

Psalm 94:19 ESV

 

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

This one is actually true, and you know what I’m talking about. There’s something miraculous about surviving a trial that had the power to take you out. Choosing joy in this situation looks a lot like praising Him in the storm.

 

“You are a hiding place for me;

you preserve me from trouble;

you surround me with shouts of deliverance.”

Psalm 32:7 ESV

 

 

 

“There’s beauty in the broken.” 

This one I know deep in my heart. Unless we are broken, we cannot help someone else. Have you ever thought God allowed your difficult situation so you could offer joy, compassion, and understanding to another person? If we don’t show the world how to relate to people in kindness and love, how can we expect them to follow the God we love? When we respond with apathy, selfishness, and pride, we lose the voice we have in a world filled with hatred.

 

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the

Power of Christ may rest on me.”

2 Corinthians 12:9 ESV

 

 

My challenge to us all is to choose how you will respond to any given situation, before it happens. Our emotions have the ability to send us down a painful path when we react before thinking. Choose to be grateful for the little things when the big things threaten to tear you apart. Choose to forgive, even when you’ve been wronged, and the other person withholds forgiveness. Choose to love the unlovable. Period. Choose to allow the other person to cut in front of you in traffic. (I need to work on this one.) Choose to allow nature to minister to your brokenness. A walk in your neighborhood, a beautiful garden, or a woodsy path may be just the thing to help you shake off moodiness, or despair. Find the thing that brings you joy and make it a regular activity. Our creator gave us a multitude of beauty to surround ourselves with. It probably won’t solve our problems overnight, but choosing joy gives us the frame of mind to live with a grateful heart.

 

 

I don’t have all the answers, but I know the One who does. Going through many trials, I learned to trust the Word of God. It literally saved my life, and gave me joy. That, my friends, is something I’ll never tire of speaking about.  

 

My Word for 2022

Here we are flying toward the end of January already and I haven’t shared this post. In less than three weeks I’ve had eye surgery, a new grandson born, and my husband and I are both getting over Covid. Welcome to 2022. It’s all good though, just a little delayed in celebrating Levi’s birth in person. And if there’s ever a good time for my word, I’d say it’s now. 

In years past I’ve chosen a word for the year; a word to motivate, encourage, and teach me something needed or desired. As the new year has made its way into the world, and I’ve had time to ponder after the busyness of the holidays, the word “prayer” has appeared over and over. It doesn’t take rocket science to know this is my word. I could choose this word every year and never go wrong. 

Prayer is one of those topics we shy away from. How to pray, when to pray, are we doing it right, do our prayers really get heard by the Almighty? The call to pray is clear and scattered throughout the Bible. So why don’t we pray, or why do we make it so hard?

 

Maybe I’m the only one who feels this way, but I don’t think so. I consider myself a person who prays, a prayer warrior, most of the time. However, I often feel inadequate. Am I missing something big, do I remember to pray for all the requests I agree to pray about? 

 

I want to deepen my prayer life in 2022. I want to be more consistent in sharing with God before I share with my family or friends. I want to learn to hear His still, small voice in the chaos of life, as well as in the planned, quiet moments of the early morning hours when it’s just me and the God who loves me best. I want to discern His voice above all others. And prayer is the avenue for that growth.

 

I look forward to this year of prayer and all the ways I hope to grow in the next 344 days. I’ll keep you posted. 

Any thoughts or suggestions are welcome.

New York City, of All Places

You may have thought, because of the post title, I was going to write about my recent trip to the Big Apple. Yes, it was an amazing four days. NYC is definitely a destination for your bucket list.

I could tell you about going to my first Broadway play, Beautiful, the story of the life of Carol King. Her music had me in tears for most of the production. I'm a child of the sixties and seventies and the music touched me deeply.

Me and Janet

I could tell you of the lights and energy of Times Square at 11:00 p.m., and the feeling of safety in the midst of thousands of people.

I could tell you of museums and parks and famous sightings. Or, the underground subway ride with the chest of drawers on its way to a new home.

I could rave about the food...oh, the food was so good. It really was. And the ladies I broke bread with are the best travel companions. Anna, daughter of Janet, my longtime friend, planned our excursions with the finesse of a travel agent. We followed her everywhere she wanted to take us, walking 33.5 miles in four days. Did I mention the delicious food we ate? It's a good thing we walked 33.5 miles.

There are occasions in life when you're confronted with a person, event, or conversation and you must plunge into the encounter based on prior knowledge, your own gut feeling, or fear. Taxi ride, need I say more? The only time we hailed a cab, apart from the shuttle to and from the airport, was a 30 minute ride from the Upper West Side back to the center of Manhattan. It was a moment in my life, planned before I drew breath. Our days are not random or by chance.

Skyline view from Central Park

I am a committed believer in Jesus Christ. I write in this space and tell of my beliefs, my struggles, and my joys. This is a safe place to express my heart. During the ride in the cab, our driver, a twenty-something college student, began a conversation about politics and social issues. He assumed, from our accent, we were southerners. I have no idea how he knew. Anyway, he also assumed we were conservative homophobes.

For the record, I must tell you, in the past my husband would've taken the lead in friendly banter and I would've sat quietly in the backseat people watching and daydreaming. However, this time, I found myself explaining my political views, my social issue opinions, and defending my faith.

The young man boasted of being an atheist. Before leaving the cab, and this enlightening exchange of world views, I was able to tell him of God's love for him and Jesus' death on the cross for him. It was a natural progression of conversation. I didn't beat him over the head with it, and he promised he would think about all we'd said. He asked that I do the same, and I have.

It was a short conversation in the scope of the entire trip, yet it was one I will not soon forget. A seed was planted right in the middle of NYC on a beautiful Friday afternoon. We each made an impression with someone who is blind and deaf about the most important part of life, with our words, our demeanor, and our smiles. This is what we are called to do as believers, "Be ready in season..."

9-11 Memorial and Museum

Did I say all the right things? Only God knows. Will He use our words in this man's life? Only God knows, but the Bible says His word will not return void.

I want to be ready to share my faith with whomever is put in my path. I must not be afraid to share the truth of all I've learned and experienced in this life. We must be sensitive to the beliefs of others, yet firm in our own belief. Then, and only then, will we be taken seriously in this post Christian world we live in.

True freedom cannot be found in the temporal, but the eternal. That should be our message. It's not up to us to change the world, but we need to be faithful and obedient to whatever opportunities we have. He will do the rest. It's a promise.

With the summer months upon us, many will be out of their normal routine. Where, and with whom will you find yourself in a cab or hotel, on a boat or restaurant? People are looking for answers to life's deepest questions and meaning. If you're a believer, you have the answer. Be gentle and kind and let Love talk. Amazing adventures await you.

Cindy

What the Red Cup Will Never Take Away

I've been told I live in the past, but that's all I know. That's my story, my past and my present. The future is not ours to know. God alone is the keeper of that secret. Man can try as hard as he may, to no avail.

I'm studying the book of Daniel in the Bible on Friday mornings, with the "Mooreites," as we call ourselves. We use the Beth Moore series as our study material. It's a fascinating book, if you've never read it. God revealed glimpses of His plan for the future to Daniel through visions. Can you imagine him writing out his dreams upon waking, and thinking how crazy it must sound? But he was faithful to his God and knew Him to be faithful to do what He says, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Much of biblical prophecy has already been fulfilled. We'll celebrate the birth of the Christ child in a few weeks, one of the greatest prophecies ever foretold, the other of course, would be the death, burial, and resurrection of that same child, a thirty-three year old man.

History not yet in the books, yours, mine and the eyes of all those gone before us, will one day witness the ultimate prophecy fulfilled...the events of the Second Coming of Christ. Are you prepared? Your past does not have to define your future.

The Christ child that we'll celebrate came for a purpose. There is no power on earth that could stop His coming, His going, or His coming again.

In the same vein, there is no power on earth that can stop us from worshiping Him this Christmas or any other time...not even a red cup, as powerful as that cup has become. Worship comes from the heart and goes directly to the throne of God almighty.

Don't let the world take away what is not theirs to take.

Jesus came to give life and give it abundantly. Share that wherever you go and with whomever you meet.

Jesus said, "I am the light of the world, 
whoever follows me will never walk in darkness,
but will have the light of life."

John 8:12 NIV

O Come Let Us Adore Him

If Teacups Were Women, A Thanksgiving Post

I have a collection of teacups in my dining room that's spilled over into my kitchen, and even into a bedroom, or two. They make me happy. Not in the kind of happiness like holding a baby for the first time, or hearing someone say, "I love you," but that homey kind of settled happy.

I've been collecting teacups for many years, and not just any cup, it must speak to me.

There were a few cups sitting on the bar waiting for a new home. I noticed how they'd been well used. I walked into my dining room and took a quick tour of the cups sitting on the buffet. They sit there every day as I casually walk past them but today was different. Most of these cups are rarely used...beautiful to look at, dainty, gold trimmed, fine porcelain cups.

Today, as I looked at my cups I was reminded of how cups are like women.

You know the one in your group of friends on Facebook who posts everything about her perfect life and you slither to the floor as you recall your not-so-perfect life. Your voice goes silent as the girls chatter on about their perfect marriages and their perfect children with their perfect grades. She has the gorgeous face, clothes, and body to go with her life and you bleed with envy. That perfect cup has never been used. It's probably not been through the fire yet, or maybe she's just good at hiding her flaws.

Then there's the hardworking girl that everyone likes. She's not ashamed of who she is. She's beautiful in her own way, yet smart and simple at the same time, a girl next door kind of quality. Her beauty comes from the fact that she knows she has a purpose. She's tough and she knows how to roll with life's harshness. I like this girl and her cup. I have several Transferware cups that are sturdy and dependable. They have character about them if you look closely enough at the detail. Most people don't take time to look past the simplicity of this girl. But trust me, she's worth a second look. This cup can take the heat of the dishwasher and come out beautiful every time.

And then there's the last cup I noticed in my collection. This one is beautiful and fragile. She's been through the fire and survived. Chips and cracks reveal the years of use to her frame, yet she can still serve her purpose. She was created to hold hot liquid, to be held in the hands of another. Her flowers, though faded, still bear the mark of her creator. If she could talk, I wonder what stories of love and loss she would tell. She might tell of tea parties and love stories, of little girls and weddings, and late night worries of sick babies.

I often think on these things as I'm drinking from antique cups of generations of women no longer with us. What stories would my Ma Bailey or my mother share with me if they were alive? I can only see them in my dreams where they live, and as I remember them.

Which cup are you? Have you been through the fire? You may be fragile as the last cup, but don't give up. You've come through the fire and you have purpose. You're strong and beautiful and if my cup could talk she'd tell you the same.

I've been through the fire, and so have many of you. There is One who is faithful to go through the fire with me, and you. I like to think I come from sturdy stock, but sometimes I'm so fragile the only thing holding me together are the flowers on the side of the cup. It's during those times my Savior is the one who gently picks up the cup and says, "This one's mine, I'll hold her today."

This Thanksgiving, 2015, I'm most thankful for Jesus, the Shepherd, who cares for me tenderly and loves me with an everlasting love.

He'd love to add you to His collection. I can promise He'll handle with care and your cup will always be full and running over...if you allow Him to fill it.

Happy Thanksgiving,
Cindy

If Teacups Could Talk

I had the privilege of serving tea to Mrs. Janet Huckabee, wife of Mike Huckabee, former governor of Arkansas and currently a presidential candidate. The Tea was held at the home of Cliff and Gloria Bryant and sponsored by the Republican Women of Anderson County.

When Gloria called and asked if I would help I was so excited. My brain went into overdrive. Even though a large group was expected, I asked if we could use real teacups. She agreed immediately.

Most of my cups needed to be hand washed so I filled the sink with hot, soapy water a couple of days before the event. It also gave me the chance to polish my tea table and cart. As I gently washed each cup a story came to mind associated with the purchase of, or the giver of the cup. I realized my life history could be told through my teacups.

I'm a collector of things. I love beautiful things. Most women do. I love china patterns, old and new. When I travel, teacups or thimbles are my "go to" souvenirs.

They are so much more than a physical object of beauty though. For me, they've come to represent a way of life. I believe we are a people who have lost our way. We don't know how to stop and take time for the important things like having a cup of tea with a friend.

If my cups could talk and tell my story, I'd want them to say she took time for people and she loved. When I told one of my girlfriends I was using my cups, she said, "aren't you afraid a cup will get broken?" I told her what's the use in having them if they're not used.

As my mind traveled down memory lane, the cup from England reminded me of when our family went to Europe with the T.L. Hanna High School soccer team. We visited five countries and I got to see places this girl from a small town in West Virginia never thought she'd ever see.

Who would've thought I'd have to go to a Russian church to find a teacup. That's a true story. It's also a reminder every time I look at my beautiful blue cup that God answers prayers. Many prayers were said for Ksyu(Sue) and her salvation. It's also a reminder of the great spiritual needs of the Russian people.

Two of the cups used at the Tea have a matching teapot I purchased at a tearoom in Greenville, South Carolina. The Ragamuffin Tea everyone was raving about originated from that tearoom.

Me, Janet Huckabee, Gloria Bryant

One of the beautiful teapots I used, Crown Gold by Wedgwood, reminds me that a middle class girl can grow up and serve tea to a presidential candidate's wife. We're all just ordinary people being used by an extra-ordinary God.

The cup I wanted Mrs. Huckabee to have her tea in was a special cup for me. I love history and all things about George Washington's home, Mount Vernon and Arlington. One of the cups in my collection is from Mount Vernon with the original thirteen colonies imprinted on it.

I believe Governor Huckabee stands for the values our country was founded upon. He is bold in his faith and doesn't waiver in his belief in God. He is vocal in his approach with the media and his style and charisma have gained him many followers. I thought it appropriate for her to drink from such a cup.

Mrs. Huckabee spoke to us about the values they hold dear and the great divide of where we are and where we need to be.

In biblical times, God told His people to build an altar to mark a place where He did something in their lives. It was for their remembrance, not to worship, but to recall His activity in their life.

What are the teacups in your life? What are those things you can say are the "altars" that tell a story of God's love for you and activity in your life?

Many things will stand out to me about the Tea. I loved meeting like minded ladies. I received so much joy sharing my teacups, tea, and the beauty of hospitality. But one thing stood out above the rest that I have overlooked in the past. There is a man who could lead our country..."one nation under God, with liberty and justice for all."

 God bless America

 and God bless 

Governor and Mrs. Huckabee

Beauty in the Broken

I love old furniture. Let me rephrase that statement. I love furniture in general, but I particularly love traipsing around antique stores looking for pieces that need new life. Tiger oak is my favorite kind of wood and you can find it in all variations of furniture and degrees of decay. You must look past the grit, grime, and scratches, as well as the junk surrounding it in the store to what it could be.

I drove to a neighboring town last week to pick up a table. Since I had a truck I decided to stop at another antique store down the street. There might be a treasure awaiting me, and my table wouldn't be lonely. I was almost ready to leave (actually I was out of time) when my eyes locked on a dresser in a back booth. It was covered with a black, sticky gunk, but I could see tiger oak peeking through in a few places. The long mirror captured my entire reflection and reminded me of a dresser at my Ma Bailey's house. There are some pieces that make a heart connection, and this was one of them. I looked at the price tag and it was reasonable. Then I noticed a 20% off sign on the wall and that made it even better.

My table was not alone.

I began work on the dresser. Filthy doesn't even come close. The drawers were filled with bugs and cobwebs. I washed and rinsed and washed and rinsed. When I started sanding the top I thought it would be easy. I was wrong. The layers of black seemed to go on and on. At first, I thought I'm not sure this is worth it. I don't see anything beautiful emerging. But, I kept sanding and the black grit crumbled away little by little.

She was a broken woman, shunned by all who knew her. Men had used her and thrown her away. The Pharisees were ready to stone her for her sin. But Jesus. He saw her heart. His eyes of love pierced through her brokenness, the lies, the shame, and the guilt. He saw her potential. He told her what she could be if the blackness of her life was removed. She could live and breathe in the beauty of His holiness. John 8:1-8

A life repurposed.

It's never too late for God to turn junk into a treasure. What one has tossed aside can be another's path to a new life.

There is life on the other side of brokenness. The process of getting there isn't easy but it's worth the sanding and the pain in the waiting. In time, it will be beautiful, and ready for service in His kingdom.

If you're broken, there's beauty in the brokenness. Don't give up on yourself. Let God remake you from the inside out. His specialty is looking for the ones who are hurting. He is tender and merciful and wants to meet your every need. You must turn to Him and acknowledge your need for Him.

You will seek me and find me 

when you seek me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:13

For those of you who may be the Pharisee, try to look past the outward appearance. There is a beating heart inside every person you meet. There is a life story they carry, burdens they bear you know nothing about. Give grace where needed. Love unconditionally, expecting nothing in return.

I'm still working on my dresser and it's turning out more beautiful than I expected. I'm so thankful I didn't give up on it. It's been worth much more than the money I invested. It's a treasure I think I'll keep for myself, a visible reminder of my worth in broken places.

His death and resurrection are a visible reminder of your worth in His eyes. You are beautiful to Him, scratches and all. Let Him use the healing balm of His love to sand away the pain of your broken life. I promise He will do it. He did it for me.

Cindy

Just Me and the Critters

I have two neurotic cats, Buck, fifteen, and Livvy, five years old. They are opposite in personality, but both love me. Since Buck was a kitten he's been afraid of going outside in daylight hours and for some crazy reason Livvy is the same. If Buck goes out at night and I don't let him in before the sun peeks over the horizon, I don't see him until darkness comes. Neurotic with a capital N.

Livvy and Buck

He was also afraid of people. Everyone knew I had a cat named Buck, but only through pictures. He was the elusive Bucky Boy...until recently. He has become the poster cat for The Extroverted Cat. Of course I'm teasing. I asked my veterinarian, Dr. Walker, if cats can develop dementia and he said, "Oh yes." There you have it.

So this summer we've been spending time on the porch. Both cats have ventured outdoors with me in the early morning hours. They seem to feel safest if I leave the door cracked a tiny bit even though I'm right there.

One morning I'd slipped back into the house to refill my teacup and when I came back to the door and opened it, Livvy shot in with a chipmunk in her mouth. She dropped the critter at my feet as if I'd won a prize.

It hobbled around my kitchen, then straightened its back and took off running.

The crazy woman (me) ran with a broom trying to trap the critter.

I had a problem on my hands. This was not on my "to do" list today.

1. Laundry
2. Work in yard
3. Run errands

The critter got away.

One month later the crazy woman (me) was out of town and got a call from her son. Andy says, "Mom, I think there's a bird in the house."

I told him I'd take care of it as soon as I got home.

A few hours later I found out where the "bird" had been eating on a dog bone in my pantry. I saw his little brown tail curled in the back of the pantry.

The critter cage was set in the pantry with fresh seeds and about 3:00 the next day the cage began to rattle. The critter is now in the woods, back with his own kind.

I'm telling you this story because now I shut the door when we venture outside in the morning, and Livvy and Buck are not happy with me.

They are safe. Nothing can harm them. I am there to protect them. They can enjoy the beauty of the outdoors. They can scare the birds(not hurt them) and roll around on the concrete. They can breathe in fresh air BUT they choose fear over freedom.

Livvy goes back inside and paws at the window. She will not trust the closed door behind her.

How many times have I not trusted God with a closed door? How many times has He been there to protect me with a closed door and I wanted a fully open door before I would move out and call it "faith?"

He's there through everything, but sometimes He asks us to simply follow Him in faith. Shut the door Cindy, and trust Me. I will protect you and keep you. I know what is out on the porch and beyond. Come out and sit awhile with Me.

Maybe He's asking you to trust Him with something, to close the door and trust Him in faith. Join Him on the porch. There's room in the swing for two.

Blessings,
Cindy

The Greatest Tattoo Artist...

I was lying in bed on a recent Saturday, the early morning light barely peeking through the blinds. One of my cats jumped on the bed and rubbed my hand. I felt to see which cat, but knew from the sound of the jump it was Bucky Boy. I rubbed his head and thought of my children.

I know Andy and Bailey. I can distinguish the sound of my son's footsteps when he comes to pick up his dog over the sound of my husband's footsteps. I'd know the sound of Andy's voice in a chorus of a thousand voices and I recognize the dimple in his cheek as soon as he smiles.

With my eyes closed, I'd know if I were hugging my daughter or a stranger. There's a way she fits perfectly against me, snuggled next to my heart, her head on my chest. I'd know the feel of her hair and her skin without the need for sight.

I know what foods they like, what kinds of movies they prefer. I know one likes to read and the other doesn't. I know they both love the outdoors, and they both adore their dad. He taught them to love the outdoorsy stuff. I know they both love to cook. I know I would give my life for them, yet I've never been faced with that decision.

God knows me far deeper and intimate than I even know my children. The Bible says He even knows the number of hairs on my head. He knew me when I was in my mother's womb. He knows I went barefoot in the grass and got way too many bee stings when I was a little girl. He knows I told all my secrets to my cats. He knows how many nights I cried myself to sleep because He caught all my tears in a bottle. He knows all the times I was disobedient and got away with it. He knows the joy I experienced when I became a mom.

He knows me because I'm His child.

The morning after this post was written, I read this in Jesus Today:

"I have called you by name; you are Mine. No matter how isolated you may sometimes feel, you belong to me...although I have vast numbers of followers, you are not a number to me. I always speak to you by name. In fact, you are so precious to Me that I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands."

We all want to be known by someone. We want to count for something, leave a mark to say we were on planet Earth. The hit television series, Cheers, of the 80's decade, made this line famous, "Where everybody knows your name."

I'm so thankful to the One who knows every star, every galaxy, every tree, bird, or fish in the deepest sea, yet He knows my name and has it inscribed in the palm of His hand. He loves me so much He gave His blood for me, and you. He willingly died for all, even the vilest sinner.

Is your name inscribed on His palm? He shed His blood for you but you must repent of sin and confess Him before you can truly be called one of His children.

My children know how much I love them. We have a relationship. Do you have a relationship with the God who loves you? Do you communicate with Him? His Word was written for you to know Him intimately, as He knows you.

While many long for everyone to know their name, the only one that really counts is the One who holds your eternity in His hands. It  mattered enough that he would inscribe it in His palms.

Now that's a tattoo I'd like to see.

Cindy