Jesus, Worry, Prayer, Cell Phones, The Trip Home

I WANT TO BE LIKE JESUS
by Thomas O. Chisholm
This is a wonderful hymn to learn and sing as you work around the home!

I have one deep supreme desire,
That I may be like Jesus.
To this I fervently aspire,
That I may be like Jesus.
I want my heart His throne to be,
So that a watching world may see
His likeness shining forth in me;
I want to be like Jesus.

Oh, perfect life of Christ my Lord,
I want to be like Jesus.
My recompense and my reward,
That I may be like Jesus.
His Spirit fill my hung'ring soul,
His power all my life control;
My deepest pray'r, my highest goal,
That I may be like Jesus.

WORRY, WARTS, & WISHES

(Excerpt taken from Hiding in the Bathroom . . . and Other Mother Moments, copyright © 2005 Eileen Rife)  www.eileenrife.com - Used by permission

Mothers have the market cornered on worry. It's part of the job description. If I had a penny for every worry thought that has passed through my mind in the last twenty-six years, I would be a wealthy woman! I could have paid for my girls' college education with that money.

Worry begins at conception and doesn't end until the grave. Will this baby make it to term? Why am I having contractions so early? Why isn't she nursing the way she should? Why won't she go to sleep? When will she ever wake up? When will she come home? Why doesn't she leave? And on the list goes. A thousand worries and not many of them grounds for legitimate angst.

Dale Carnegie taught me years ago to ask the question when dealing with worry: "What is the worst possible thing that could happen?" Well, as a mom, I could answer, "Lots of things" she could be in a car accident. She could die. Where Carnegie leaves off, the Apostle Paul picks up. "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7 NASB). I can not begin to count the number of nights I have laid in bed staring up at the ceiling quoting that Scripture until a veil of peaceful sleep enveloped me.

The thing about worry is that nine times out of ten, the event you are so concerned about never happens. Personalities like mine, however, tend to focus on that one-tenth possibility of something going wrong. Yet with the worry comes the opportunity to grow in faith. And so I have. At least I like to think that I have. When a tiny inkling of worry crosses my mind I immediately toss it up to the Lord who reminds me that He who cares for the sparrow and clothes the grass of the field will also care for me and mine (Matthew 6:25-34).

Worry seems to be a legacy passed down from my own mother. I called her a worrywart when I was growing up because she obsessed about everything. Now that I have been a mother for twenty-six years I know why. It doesn't excuse it; it merely explains it.

My worry must have revealed itself in my children, for when they were "tweenagers'' a bizarre row of unsightly warts cropped out across their knuckles, at a stage in their lives when they were becoming more conscious about their physical appearance. We soaked, medicated, and prayed but it seemed the warts had a mind of their own. They would disappear when they were good and ready, which was about a year or two after appearing. A lesson well taken, I moralized. All my worry never accomplishes a thing. It only messes up my head and everyone else around me. God will take care of the problem in His way and in His own good time with or without my help.

My worries have led to many good wishes for my daughters. The greatest of them being the desire to see them walk in God's truth. Now I have learned over the years that all the wishing in the world will not accomplish one iota of good in my girls' lives. Only godly training and prayer can direct them to the right path and carry them through the years as they walk out the front door to lives of their own.

Worry can't remove warts any more than it can train children, neither can all the wishing in the world. That is one lesson I have learned the hard way over the years. What blessed freedom comes when worry gives way to prayer and the peace that follows!

A SWEET REMINDER THAT GOD STILL ANSWERS PRAYER

Grab a tissue!  Author unknown - Thanks to Paula Archer in Ohio for sending this wonderful, inspiring story!

I spent the week before my daughter's June wedding running last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop, and the church about forty miles away. As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my budget dwindle.

. . .so many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son Jack was away at college, but he said he would be there to walk his younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he'd wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had large magnolia trees. Their luscious, creamy-white blooms and slick green leaves would make beautiful arrangements against the rich dark wood inside the church.

After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, we banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we left just before midnight, I felt tired but satisfied this would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music, the ceremony, the reception - and especially the flowers - would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived - the busiest day of my life - and while her bridesmaids helped Patsy to dress, her fiancee Tim, walked with me to the sanctuary to do a final check. When we opened the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted; and then I saw them - all the beautiful white flowers were black. Funeral black. An electrical storm during the night had knocked out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day, the flowers had wilted and died.  I panicked, knowing I didn't have time to drive back to our hometown, gather more flowers, and return in time for the wedding.  Tim turned to me. "Edna, can you get more flowers? I'll throw away these dead ones and put fresh flowers in these arrangements."

I mumbled, "Sure," as he be-bopped down the hall to put on his cuff links.  Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark wooden beams in the arched ceiling. "Lord," I prayed, "please help me. I don't know anyone in this town. Help me find someone willing to give me flowers - in a hurry!" I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would not get out a shotgun when I asked to cut his tree to shreds.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance. I approached a house . . . No dog in sight. I knocked on the door and an older man answered. So far so good . . . No shotgun. When I stated my plea the man beamed, "I'd be happy to!"

He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my car trunk, I said, "Sir, you've made the mother of a bride happy today."

"No, Ma'am," he said. "You don't understand what's happening here."

"What?" I asked.

"You see, my wife of sixty-seven years died on Monday. On Tuesday I received friends at the funeral home, and on Wednesday. He paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. "On Wednesday I buried her." He looked away. "On Thursday most of my out-of-town relatives went back home, and on Friday - yesterday - my children left.  I nodded.

"This morning," he continued, "I was sitting in my den crying out loud. I miss her so much. For the last sixteen years, as her health got worse, she needed me. But now nobody needs me. This morning I cried, 'Who needs an eighty-six-year- old wore-out man? Nobody! 'I began to cry louder. 'Nobody needs me!' About that time, you knocked, and said, "Sir, I need you."

I stood with my mouth open.

He asked, "Are you an angel?  The way the light shone around your head into my dark living room."

I assured him I was no angel.

He smiled. "Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you those magnolias?"

"No."

"I decided I'm needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at times like that and I have lots of them. They're all over the backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches - all sorts of places. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to serve the Lord until the day He calls me home!"

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder.  On Patsy's wedding day, if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who was hurting, I would have said, "Forget it! It's my only daughter's wedding, for goodness' sake! There is no way I can minister to anyone today."  But God found a way. Through dead flowers.

"Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference."

CELL PHONE VS. BIBLE
Author unknown - Thanks to Annamarie Kresge in Virginia for sending this!

Ever wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phones?
What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets?
What if we flipped through it several times a day?
What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?
What if we used it to receive messages from the text?
What if we treated it like we couldn't live without it?
What if we gave it to kids as gifts?
What if we used it when we traveled?
What if we used it in case of emergency?
This is something to make you go ... Hmmm ... where's my Bible?
Oh, and one more thing.  Unlike our cell phone, we don't have to worry about our Bible being disconnected because Jesus already paid the bill.

THE TRIP HOME
Author unknown - Thanks to Barb Campbell in Mississippi for sending this!

A pastor had been on a long flight between church conferences.  The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on:  Fasten Your Seat Belts.

Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the beverages at this time as we are expecting a little turbulence. Please be sure your seat belt is fastened."

As the pastor looked around the aircraft, it became obvious that many of the passengers were becoming apprehensive.

Later, the voice on the intercom said, "We are so sorry that we are unable to serve the meal at this time.  The turbulence is still ahead of us."

And then the storm broke . . .
                                                
The ominous cracks of thunder could be heard even above the roar of the engines.  Lightning lit up the darkening skies, and within moments that great plane was like a cork tossed around on a celestial ocean.  One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air; the next, it dropped as if it were about to crash.

The pastor confessed that he shared the discomfort and fear of those around him.  He said, "As I looked around the plane, I could see that nearly all the passengers were upset and alarmed. Some were praying.  The future seemed ominous and many were wondering if they would make it through the storm."

"Then, I suddenly saw a little girl.  Apparently the storm meant nothing to her.  She had tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on her seat; she was reading a book and everything within her small world was calm and orderly.  Sometimes she closed her eyes, then she would read again; then she would straighten her legs, but worry and fear were not in her world."

"When the plane was being buffeted by the terrible storm, when it lurched this way and that, as it rose and fell with frightening  severity, when all the adults were scared half to death, that marvelous child was completely composed and unafraid."  The minister could hardly believe his eyes.

It was not surprising therefore, that when the plane finally reached its destination and all the passengers were hurrying to disembark, our pastor lingered to speak to the girl whom he had watched for such a long time.  Having commented about the storm and the behavior of the plane, he asked why she had not been afraid.

The child replied, "Cause my Daddy's the pilot, and he's taking me home."                            
                                                          
There are many kinds of storms that buffet us.  Physical, mental, financial, domestic, and many other storms can easily and quickly darken our skies and throw our plane into apparently uncontrollable movement.  We have all known such times, and let us be honest and confess, it is much easier to be at rest when our feet are on the ground than when we are being tossed about a darkened sky.

Let us remember: Our Father is the Pilot.  He is in control and taking us home. Don't worry.