Faith in a Phone Booth

Some years ago, I was finishing a long and unpleasant year at a school where I felt I just did not fit. I had been sending out resumes, making phone calls, networking, and praying, but so far, nothing.

By the end of May, I was resigned to returning to the same school the next fall. I didn't want to, but with no other jobs on the horizon, I couldn't see any other choice. I couldn't afford to be jobless.

Early in June, my dear friend, the pastor's wife, told me about a women's quadrennial meeting in Indiana. Someone who had already paid to go discovered that she needed heart surgery, and couldn't go. She wanted someone to take her place, at her expense.

It was just three days before the deadline for me to resign. (Teachers in Texas have to resign at least 45 days before the beginning of the new year.) Wick and I discussed the situation, and he encouraged me to take the trip. He felt that it would give me spiritual renewal, and strength to face the next school year.

It was a two-day bus trip to Purdue University campus, where the quadrennial would be held.
By the time we arrived, I already had a message from Wick.

That summer was one of the hottest on record in Indiana, and the campus rooms had no air conditioning. I wasn't sure I wanted to stay, but had no way to get home.

I called Wick, happy to hear his voice. He said he had a phone call from a principal who wanted to interview me. We arranged for me to be in a certain phone booth the next day at noon.

Let me tell you, standing in a phone booth in the broiling sun is no fun. But I waited for the call. When the phone rang, my heart rate went up about 100%.

The principal spent twenty minutes telling me about the program, a Disciplinary Alternative Education Program for kids who in the past would have been expelled from their home schools.

He finally stopped to ask if I had any questions. I asked a few about the program. He still had not asked me about myself or my experience as a teacher.

Then he said, "I want to offer you this position."
I said, "Unfortunately, I am in Indiana right now for a church women's conference, and won't be home until 7 days from now--too late for me to resign then."

He said, "I am offering you this job right now. I've talked to your references, and spent about 45 minutes talking to your husband. I have known for a year that this position was going to be open, and I have been praying all that time that God would send the right person. I am convinced that you are the right person. If you will fax me your letter of resignation, I will hand deliver it to make sure it gets there in time."

At that moment, I felt I was hearing the voice of God, telling me to take that job. Wick and all my family had been praying, as well as all the women from my church who were on the trip with me.

So I stepped out on faith, and said yes. I faxed my resignation letter to a man I had never met, and would not meet until the beginning of the school year.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I dialed our home phone number.

I told Wick what I had done.
He said, "What will you be teaching?"
I said, "I don't know."
He said, "How much will you be making?"
I said, "I don't know."
He said, "Jan!?!"
I said, "Honey, when God speaks to you in a phone booth in Indiana, you just have to do what He is telling you to do."

My reward for stepping out on faith was seven years with a Christian principal, and a staff which was, with one exception, committed Christians. The students could be extremely challenging, but with their background of disciplinary problems, that was to be expected.

On days when I got discouraged, I reminded myself that God had sent me there, and would not put more on me than He would give me strength to meet.

Even now, after so many years, I still think it sounded crazy to entrust my future to a man I never met. But he was a Christian brother I just had not met yet.

Cruise Control

About a week ago, Wick and I returned from a Caribbean cruise. If you have never been on a cruise, start saving right now, and go on one. We love the whole experience.

A whole week of being pampered, eating gourmet food, never having to do dishes or make up the bed or clean the bathroom, sitting in the shade on deck with a good book, watching the deep deep blue ocean and the dolphins playing in the waves, and making new friends.

We fall quickly into the routine, eating breakfast at the buffet, snacking in the bistro on the promenade deck, playing Trivia of all sorts, exploring the various venues.

Each evening, we dress for dinner, and later go to the theater for some kind of show or entertainment.

On the last evening, we arrived early, as usual, to find good seats. A man I had never seen sat down in the seat next to me. A little later, he was joined by a man and a woman, and they fell into conversation. I couldn't help overhearing their discussion, filled with questions about electric scooters and electric wheel chairs. Since I have both, I uncharacteristically butted in on their conversation, and tried to answer some of their questions.

One thing led to another, and they began to confide about the man's wife, who is the woman's sister. She had been ill the whole cruise. After a few questions, Wick and I looked at each other. Her symptoms sounded so familiar: just like the symptoms I had three years ago. congestive heart failure. We talked a little before the show, then in more depth afterward.

After hearing what we had to say, they agreed that their family member was really sick, worse than they had imagined, and made plans to get her off the ship in a wheel chair, and then take her to the emergency room.

We offered to pray for them, and gave them our phone number with a request to let us know how she fared.

A couple of days ago, the husband called to tell us that when they arrived at the ER, she was rushed to surgery to have a liter of fluid drained from her pericardium, the sac that surrounds the heart. She was indeed suffering from heart failure, and is still in the hospital undergoing tests to determine the best course of treatment.

All of us agreed that God led us to sit side by side that night before the show, and to share our story. The husband feels that without our input, he might not have insisted that his wife seek treatment so quickly, since she was denying that anything was really wrong, even though she could hardly walk, and could not breathe lying down.

Even on a vacation, even on a cruise ship, God is in control, and can use us to help others. How thankful we are that He led us to those seats, and opened our hearts to share with this family. As Wick said, it hit us in the face without warning. At least this family knew ahead of time how bad things might be, and were able to get her to treatment.

Entertaining angels unawares...

Numbering My Days

So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.--Psalm 90:12

Three years ago this week, I was released from hospital after nearly two months, facing 4 months of physical therapy and rehab to learn to walk again.

I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.

I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.

I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?

I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.

I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.

My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.

Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.

We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.

Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.

He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.

I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.

Christmas is for Family

Last Saturday, we met with my extended family to celebrate Christmas.

My parents had four kids. All four of us married, and had among us 11 kids. All 11 have married, and had kids.

The current count is 54, with several couples still in the child-bearing years, so that number may go up.

Obviously, too big a crowd for anyone's house, so we met at the community center where my folks live.

For years, we all congregated at my mama's house on every occasion, and often just to visit. Her house was Family Central. But we finally had to concede there were just too many of us for her house. My folks now live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there are no large gatherings there, although we try to visit at least once a month.

With so many of us, even a whole day is never enough to visit with everyone as I would like to.

But with phone calls, e-mails, and facebook, we manage to stay in touch, to keep track of the important events in everyone's lives.

All of this to say, after all, Christmas started with one family. A man who took a wife who was already pregnant, and the Child who was born to them on that night so long ago.

That Child came to save us from our sins, and our Father God says we are adopted into His family, brothers and sisters to Christ, co-inheritors of the Kingdom.

So, brothers and sisters, a very merry Christmas to you all.

Rainy Afternoon

We are still in the midst of a drought, according to statistics, which indicate we are shy 20 inches of rain for the year.

Our county and those around us have been under a burn ban for months.

But this afternoon, it rained.

The back wall of our cabin is windows, about 25 feet of windows, looking out onto the lake. It is so beautiful to watch the rain as it starts on the other side of the lake, and gradually moves over the water, like the Spirit of God moving over the face of the deep.

Both our front and back porches have tin roofs, so we enjoy a symphony of rain falling on the tin and running down the ridges, dripping off into the earth. The lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, and we cuddle with our chihuahuas under a hand-made quilt, and watch the blessed rain pour down from heaven.

Let us praise His name for His goodness endures forever.

Frogs and Rabbits and Other Lakeside Creatures

During this drought filled summer, we have seen more little rabbits than ever. When I take Sissy and Cassie out after dark, they are everywhere, their little white powder puff tails almost glowing white in the security lights.

They gather mostly in our neighbor's yard, because he waters and his grass is lush and green, unlike ours, which crunches like shredded wheat underfoot.

When we come out, they freeze in place, unmoving, except for their wiggly little noses, which twitch furiously as they attempt to identify our alien scents. Their long ears quiver, as they wait to see if we are going to approach or move away. When the chihuahuas finally notice them, of course, they feel compelled to alert the whole neighborhood, inciting all the other dogs to bark and howl furiously.

As the pandemonium mounts in intensity, the rabbits break free from their freeze, and scatter into the shadows, disappearing in an instant.

Most of the frogs we see are dead and dried little mummies, their tiny bodies lying in the sandy soil, victims of the drought.

The dogs seek out these tiny corpses, rub their faces on them, or pick them up to carry around until they finally drop them elsewhere.

As the lake dries up, the small critters are disappearing. We didn't see a single brood of baby ducks this summer. The frogs are running out of shallow water in which to breed.

We help as we can. We keep the hummingbird feeder filled with sweet nectar; we put our fruit and vegetable parings out behind the back porch for the rabbits, who devour them almost before I get back in the door. We keep the bird feeder full for the jays, sparrows, wrens, robins, cardinals and blue birds.

We can't do anything about the frogs or the ducks or the geese, except hope that eventually, when the lake returns, so will they.

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Rain!

Yesterday, we were in Tyler all afternoon, and it rained! The temp dropped from 105 to 77, there was lightning, and rain, blessed rain, fell for about half an hour.

It was only about a tenth of an inch total, but how wonderful it felt, falling rain, cooler temps (at least for a little while), and what a relief from the 60 days of 100 plus temperatures.

Thank you, Lord!

Will It Ever Rain Again? summer 2011

It is hot. The hottest summer in years. And the driest.

107 this afternoon, and nearly 60 days of over 100 degree temps.

No rain.

A couple of days ago, for about 5 minutes, we heard the sound of light rain falling on our roof and the trees. Not enough to really even get the cars wet.

But a breath of cooler air.

And a promise that rain will come again.

Lost & Found

About two weeks ago, our Sissy got lost. For three nights, she was astray, dragging her little pink leash, despite hours of calling and searching through a heavily wooded area.

We had given up. The creek running through the woods has coyotes and bobcats, owls and hawks, so we were both secretly convinced she was a goner. Aloud, we both said, she is so little and so cute--someone probably found her and kept her.

The third day, we were on our way to buy another puppy, when the phone rang to tell us someone had seen her.

We drove two and a half hours back to where she was lost, and again called and searched. Friends, family and strangers called, looked, and prayed with us. Again, no luck.

The next morning, Wick was up before daylight. About 6:30, he came and got me, and again I called and called. I asked every jogger and bike rider who came by to keep an eye out for our little fur girl.

At one point, we were ready to give up, but Wick decided to make one more effort. About thirty minutes later, he emerged from the woods, dripping blood and covered with scratches, with Sissy in his arms.

Her leash had gotten tangled in a briar patch, and she had wound herself round and round the briars. Wick's arms and legs were covered with scratches from the briars, but he says it was well worth it, to find our Sissy.

God answered my prayers when he sent her to us, and He answered prayers when He sent Wick in the right direction to find her. God cares for us, even in the littlest matters.

Loss

It's a cold, rainy, bleak day.

My niece, who had her first prenatal check-up last week, lost her baby last night.

True, it was not a planned pregnancy. And not the best timing. Her husband is on the short list to be shipped overseas with the National Guard. She has a year-old boy, and less-than-three-year-old girl.

But this baby was wanted, nevertheless.

Wanted by its mother and father.

Wanted by its grandparents.

Wanted by its aunts and uncles and cousins.

A beloved child.

Our great consolation is that this baby is back in God's arms today.

even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

¹⁶ your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

Bible Verses

When I was in high school, I had the privilege of taking a two-year Bible study class for credit.  Our teacher, Kenneth Istre, was not only our preacher, but also a true student of scripture.

He believed strongly in the value of memorization, a concept that has fallen out of fashion in our schools today.  We memorized the books of the Bible, the names of the major and minor prophets, the kings of Israel, and Bible verses.

At the time, I mostly memorized because he required it, and because I wanted to do well enough on the final test to get credit for the class.  I also appreciated the poetic beauty of the King James version, which I prefer to all others even now.

As an adult, I have come to appreciate the value of memorizing scripture.

When I was so sick last winter, I couldn't even read.  I was too sick, too doped up, to make sense of anything I tried to read.

I had trouble following conversations, or understanding what the doctors and nurses were telling me.

But inside my head, like a never-ending tape, I could hear the verses of comfort I had memorized.

"I lift up my eyes unto the hills;  whence cometh my help?  My trust is in the Lord"

" He will give his angels charge over thee, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone."

" He took me out of the pit, and lifted me from the mirey clay.  He set my feet on a rock and established my path."

An unending stream of comfort and love, bathing me night and day, every waking moment.  All because one man expected me to memorize scripture.

Hummingbirds

Wick hung up a hummingbird feeder out on the deck a few weeks ago.  We have enjoyed watching the tiny birds zoom around, and have discovered that they have personalities.

One is very aggressive.  He apparently feels that the feeder is his personal property, and whenever others show up, he chases them away, twittering loudly.  He then returns to the feeder, perches on it, and chirps, as if to say, I won again.

Another is quite cautious.  He flies in circles around the feeder, finally landing, but can't seem to sit still long enough to drink.  He keeps jumping into the air, turning himself around in circles, as if watching for the aggressor.

I've read a little about these birds.  They are attracted by the color red.  They "know" how long a blossom takes to refill its cup with nectar after a feeding, and won't return to that blossom until it has had time to refill. 

The little aggressor doesn't know that we keep the feeder replenished, and that whenever he returns, there is always more nectar.

I guess sometimes we are like that with God;  our human nature can't encompass the unending bounty of God's love and care for us, so we worry and fret, instead of waiting on the Lord to supply our needs.

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

ICU Angel

I have joked around about my hospitalization, but the sober truth is, I almost died.
My mama says that my temp went up to 105, and I was diagnosed with heart failure and kidney failure. A lot of people were praying really hard for me.
When I came out of the second surgery, the surgeon said no one could stay with me through the night, since I would be in ICU (Intensive Care Unit). So they all went home.

Some time during the night, I opened my eyes. The room was dimly lit, but I could see that I was in a regular room, not ICU. Someone was sitting beside the bed, holding my hand. Her forehead was down on our joined hands. At first, I thought it was my mother or one of my sisters.

I didn't say anything, but she seemed to sense that I had opened my eyes. She lifted her head, shaking back a thick mane of auburn hair. In a calm, conversational tone, she told me that she had been praying for me. She told me I had gone through the surgery well, but that I needed extra care through the night. She said that she was an ICU nurse, and that she would be with me all night.

She wiped my face and mouth, smoothed my hair, adjusted the pillow, reminded me of the morphine pump, and asked about the level of my pain. She asked me if I wanted to pray, but I was having trouble talking. She asked if I wanted her to pray, and I squeezed her hand. So she prayed for me--with me. Groggy on meds, in terrible pain, I was able to understand what she said, even if I couldn't croak out a word. In my mind, in my heart, I prayed too.

She sat back down on a little wooden stool, and held my hand as I drifted back into unconsciousness.
Each time that I roused, she was there to give me a sip of water, to make me as comfortable as possible, and to pray with me.
The light was always dim, not the bright lights the nurses usually turned on. No one else came into my room through that long, dark, pain filled night.

At last, I awoke to sunshine, and the faces of my family anxiously watching to see if I was okay. The next thing I saw was the little wooden stool, now empty.

I asked about her, the nurse who had stayed with me all night. My sister went to the nurses' station to ask how to contact her, to send a thank-you for her watchful, prayerful care.

The charge nurse said that no person of that name had been on duty in that section, nor in any other section on that floor. Furthermore, she said that no ICU nurse would have come to my room, and that if I needed ICU care, I would have been in ICU.

Who was she, this auburn-haired woman, who held my hand, prayed for me, cared for me through that night?

I think she was an angel.

If she was my imagination, as some of the nurses suggested, where did that little wooden stool come from? If she didn't care for me that night, who did?

God sent her to help me, to take care of me, to keep me alive. To be an embodiment of His Holy Spirit. To be my ICU angel.