THE FEAR OF BELIEVING

WILL WE BE DISAPPOINTED IF WE DO

I read a blog today written by someone I don't personally know. We know some of the same people, but I had never heard of the author. There has been something nagging in the back of my mind lately, just beyond recognition. It is becoming more clear the more times I read his posts. It did not originate with his writing, but became clearer to me with the reading of it.

He was actually writing in this particular blog about the "Irksomeness of Prayer". It took me awhile to come to the conclusion that he really just felt let down and at a loss because God obviously COULD have stopped the Tsunami in Japan, but didn't. He referred to another writer's statement that, though that we pray the same prayers over and over, there is no real resolution. Or, is it just no real resolution in the way we would have chosen? To believe there is no resolution would seem to indicate God is either deaf and can't hear our prayers of repetition, or has a memory retention problem.

Neither is the case. He knows full well what is happening on His earth, and yes He could make it turn out differently. I ask, whose outcome should He choose? Would it be mine, or yours, our neighbors, or our enemy's? I say that because none of these people would have a problem with control, right? It has to be one of those categories though because God's resolution is not good enough for those He created.

That's why our country is in turmoil, as is most of the world. Some do assume they have more knowledge than other people, but trust me, it's only an assumption.

The question still remains, what do we do with a God who allows things to happen? Things that are truly bad, or wrong, or just out of character for our loving God. Here is a concept. I admit I sometimes struggle with this and in fact am struggling with it right now.

What if we try "Trust" or maybe "Faith" (could be the same thing). I realize I, myself, cannot accomplish what I'm asking of Him in our present situation, but I believe "He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world".

Is it possible we pray to the Father with a ready made wish list and only notice the biggies we don't receive? We aren't aware of the answer if it doesn't come packaged with brand name recognition.

Can I wrap my mind around why tens of thousands of people die in one disaster? NO... or why a young family aches and hurts and misses the daddy who was doing his very best to lead and take care of his wife and children, but died anyway? NO...Do I have an answer for destruction of nations by other nations? NO...Do I think God needs me to tell Him what He should do about it? NO...

What I do believe is that He wants us to talk to Him. He wants to hear something other than "gimme" or "I want" or "ARE YOU LISTENING" "HEY, DID YOU SEE THAT WALL OF WATER"? (shouting here)

It isn't for Him though that we talk , it is for us so that we might come to a trust that comes only with knowing and being familiar with someone. A best friend or brother or sister who knows us better than we know ourselves and vice versa.

Is it possible we transfer our disappointment and lack of control onto God? Sure it is. I do pray each of us will learn to trust that He knows the number of hairs on our head and also choose to believe that His ways are greater than our ways and His love is bigger than our love. That He loves the people of Japan, Chili, Iraq, Iran, even the whole of this earth with a knowledge and love we cannot even imagine.

We don't believe He hears or is big enough because we are afraid we might be disappointed. Fear is at the core of our not believing but "Perfect love casts out all fear".

There is one who would love nothing more than to convince each of us that God doesn't have a grip on what He is doing and what His plan is for His people, that one can only approach you and share his lies with you if you invite him in.

It it is my hope and yes, my prayer, that each of us invite our Friend to go for a walk, boat ride, to sit in the sunny cool breeze of spring and learn to talk and trust the one who holds you in His hands. Don't be afraid of the really big jobs because His hands are big enough to hold the jobs and to hold you too.

Love to each who reads my thoughts.

Your friend, Alma

The Love of My Life

"For Some There Is Forever Only One"

I'm not sure how many of you who read my feeble attempts at putting my thoughts, memories and blessings in print even know The Love of My Life. If you have had the good fortune to have met him, then you know what I say is true. If you haven't, my hope is that one day you will have that opportunity.

Those who know us know I have a personality that, at times is at the least, aggressive. The man I'm married to however, is a peacemaker. He tries to live his life for the purpose of being a reflection of The Father, bringing a peacefulness to those around him.

That's not to say he hasn't failed at times, but he has never put himself before me. He has been open and available to serve all whom he meets. Through out his life and especially for the past twenty-five years, he has been an example to the wisest of men and the meekest of children, church elders, pastors, employers and employees. He has served husbands and wives while sweeping the hallways in a daycare, and he has served our children and grandchildren. Many times making the hard choices and showing a tuff love, eventhough his own heart was breaking.

I've seen him cry grown man tears because of disappointments inflicted by those he loved and trusted, somehow "wept" is a more discriptive term, but I've not seen him allow his heart to harden. I do not intend to portray him as "rightous, or pious", those who know him understand what I mean. He is just a man who places value on relationships rather than judgements.

This man, Les Fenter, did not become who he is on his own. He has a very rich heratige passed down to him from his mother and father and I thank them for dedicating their lives to loving and preparing him for a life of service. During times of struggle and pain they loved him and thus taught him to love in the same way.

I'm sure, by now you get my message, and hopefully you understand why...

"For Some There Is Forever Only One" and why he's The Love if My Life.

I Love You, Les

City Girl

As a little girl I remember going to visit my grandma and papaw, who lived in the country about thirty miles from the city where I lived. There were lots of reasons to go to the country and most of them revolved around playing and pretending -- and no chores.

I got to help (and pretend) in the huge yard grandma called her "flower garden." The garden was so big it took us about three hours to water all the plants. While we watered, we pulled the "heads" off the drooping ones. I was never sure if those flowers were already dead, or they died because we pulled their heads off and left them lying in the sun with no water to drink. After we finished "pruning" the flowers -- oh how I hated prunes -- I could get the basket and pick up all the flower heads and play with them. Some were still pretty, but by morning they really were dead. Oh well, nothing much bothered me for long in those long lazy days of childhood.

Beyond the flower garden gate was the pasture. It had all the normal things a pasture has: weeds and dandelions, cows (and cow patties), a barn -- and George. George was big and ugly, dingy white, with sharp pointed horns and two humps. George might have been ugly, but he ruled the pasture. When he was anywhere to be seen, for whatever reason bulls demand attention, the cows followed him around the pasture. I, however, would not open the flower garden gate. There were too many other things to see and do and George did not impress me.

Did I mention that the pasture also had an artesian well that flowed constantly and never ran out of water. I remember it being the sweetest, coldest water to drink. No faucets or knobs to turn, no glasses to wash. You just knelt down in the mud (yuck), cupped your hands and drank, ummmm. There was also a smoke house in the pasture. Even though it made a good place to hide from my brother, it had a really odd smell, sorta like the bacon and ham we ate for breakfast. Since my mom and I shopped in the big grocery store in the city, I never thought about why it smelled that way. There were too many other things to see and explore on the country farm, to keep me from pondering about it too long.

Vines to climb and swing on and the barn to play in. The barn had a loft where hay was stacked high to the roof. We climbed up the ladder and slid down a rope swing all the way to the barn floor. I quickly found out the barn was not built simply for me to play in. Sometimes fantasy and reality meet at the end of a rope swing and you soon realize where the cows go when it rains. Boy did my feet stink. That lazy day in the summer turned into a rare scolding from my papaw and I was banished from the barn. For awhile.

The Mimosa tree beside the cattle guard, next to the road, was a lookout where my friend and I could climb up and watch for the fruit truck to come around the curve. When he, (Mr. Poche or Fontenot or Sanchez or Langois, I'm fuzzy on names) pulled across the cattle guard, we got to help pick out apples, grapes, bananas and juicy peaches. Funny, I never saw a cattle guard on a city driveway.

There wasn't a large grocery store for food, like in the city. There were only two small stores, one on each end of "town," with maybe five miles separating them. The smaller store on the south end of town, where the road forked, was owned by my uncle. His store had lots of stuff people needed, things the farm couldn't provide. Things like candles, sugar and a few loaves of bread, batteries and small cans of shrimp lined the shelves. I remember those because grandma would sometimes put them in her okra and tomato gumbo. There was parafin wax and jars for canning, although grandma would "go into town" to buy most of her canning supplies. The most important things he sold though were gas and penny candy. I remember wondering why you filled up your car, your tractor or even a boat motor in the same place you bought penny candy. We couldn't just go in and help ourselves to the candy, even though my uncle owned it, which I didn't understand either. We had to earn it, and that meant we carried empty boxes and other trash a store produces out to the trash pile to burn.

The other store, on the north end of town was Savic's grocery. I remember his name, though I'm not sure why. Papaw and I could walk to Savics together, passing the Poche's, our closest neighbors. Papaw (Henry was his name) talked and visited with the other farmers while I shopped. I knew where the store was because I could see the two story schoolhouse from the Mimosa tree. Mr. Savic sold larger items like big sacks of flour, papaw's blue shirts and other larger items. He had a fresh meat counter and even knobs and tools for household repair jobs.

Across the highway from Savic's grocery store was the school. Imagine that -- a school in the country. I didn't understand why the kids there went to school while the kids in the city were out. Grandma tried to explain that a long time ago, when my daddy was a boy in school, they had to work on the farm and went to school when there were no crops to harvest. Sometimes I went to school with my aunt who taught there. It felt strange going to the school because a lot of the teachers would tell me things like, "do you know I taught your daddy when he was in school." My dad went to school? He must have been very important because I got special advantages the other kids didn't. They let me out of class anytime I wanted to explore the big two story schoolhouse. I noticed some strange things to me, like kids from first grade playing on the playground with kids from the twelfth grade. And everyone seemed to bring their lunch.

Most summers I would visit in the country two or three times and, yes, I did sometimes get bored. There was a telephone but I couldn't just call my friend in the city and talk anytime I wanted. Grandma would have to dial the number and she said we could talk for three minutes. THREE minutes? Really, three minutes? No way! So I would invite her to go with me at least once each summer. Actually her grandparents lived in a small town too, but it wasn't really country. More like a town pictured in some of the family TV shows back then. We sometimes went there too, so summers weren't so long.

Something that confused me about people who lived in the country, like my grandma and grandpa, was they didn't get milk and eggs from the National Food Store like we did in the city. Grandma tried to convince me that the milk we bought in bottles and eggs that were in the refrigerated section, actually came from country cows. The cows that followed George around, and those scrawny chickens I unwillingly fed in the yard? They laid the eggs. Gross, no wonder I didn't like milk and only ate eggs if I saw mom buy them from the store.

I don't know how many of you can identify with me when I say I was a city girl growing up, and I am still a city girl today, some 46 years later. Someone could have said, "how much of a city girl were you," and my answer would have been, "you get your milk from WHERE, oh no you've got it all wrong. You see we bring our milk home every day from National Food Stores in a waxed paper carton". Eggs come from the cooler section in cardboard cartons shaped for each individual egg.

I know this is rather long, but the memories a city girl has of the country takes a long time to think through. I wonder, did a country girl who visited grandparents in the city enjoy the long lazy days of childhood as much? Surely not, the city didn't have George or a Mimosa tree, or the man with the fruit truck. And that is sad to this city girl. Hope you all enjoy a summer spent in the country.

Making New Traditions

WHAT DO WE DO WITH TRADITIONS WHEN THEY DON'T FIT ANY MORE

That's been a hard one for us, and not only this year. You see, for several years after Zackary was born he lived with his mommy and daddy at Nana and Papaw's house. His baby bed shared a room with papaw's desk and the room was called the "waffice" (office). The two of them would talk late into the night, and first thing in the morning. Lot's of things were solved during those discussions.

Somehow a tradition evolved around our night time hugs. Zack would climb into Nana's lap and give the sweetest hugs and kisses, called "bedtime lovins", then he would climb up in papaw's lap and play the "kissing game". Papaw would dodge every attempt he made to kiss him, moving at the last minute and sometimes pulling a hat over his face. This frustrated Zack until he would slap both of his chubby hands on papaw's face and squeeze 'till there was no more movement. Everyone dissolved into laughter and went to bed happy.

When mommy and daddy would be at work and papaw would be at home with Nana and Zack, sometimes we would go to McDonald's for lunch. There would inevitably be another kid on the playground bigger than Zack and he would get in trouble. All Zack would say was "MY papaw", and point to Les. Of course he always got an ice cream cone for basically telling the kid, "my papaw is tougher than your papaw".

There were times Zack would walk, holding Nana's hand, and go to C & D Burger for lunch. On the way back we would stop on the bridge and watch for "little frogs" to swim in the 'big ditch that went under the street". A long walk, by the way for young short chubby legs and old short chubby legs. We would make it everyday and then have a nap.

We decorated for birthdays with paper fish, halloween with cute jack-o-lanterns, Thanksgiving with corn and hay and scarecrows, but Christmas was always the most fun. Bright ornaments on the tree with white twinkle lights...a big red bow on top...music boxes older than Zack...lots of presents under the tree (not all for him, but he didn't know that)...and hot chocolate. Hot chocolate was his favorite with blueberry muffins after presents were opened.

Of course there was family, always lots of family. At Nana and Papaw's we had all his aunts, uncles and cousins over for snacks and visiting. Usually one present would be opened by each little one. Then there was his family on daddy's side. Christmas Eve for Grandma Hinkey and at some point on Christmas Day he would see Maw-Maw and Papaw Terry with Uncles Russell and Derrick. Always bringing home more presents, but loving the being with more family.

Then, when Zackary was about five and thought life couldn't get any better, lo and behold a little brother came to the share the lime light, and share it he did. But they seemed to work it out fine between them until one day Zackary had to give Hunter some of his own attention. Standing over Hunter I heard him say, "Look it it's not all about YOU. It use to be all about ME, but not anymore, buck it up." I watched him a little closer for awhile. LOL

Mommy and daddy found them a new house about the same time Hunter joined the family and they moved from Nana and Papaw's house. Leaving all of Nana's furniture, except the chair she watched the Astro's in. He found rooms in his new house for everyone, even Nana and Papaw and didn't understand when we didn't move too. Needless to say, he adjusted but always wanted to spend as much time as possible at "our old house", and he wanted his best friends Abby, Abram and Chey-Chey over to play in his backyard.

Right after they moved into their new house, Zack started Kindergarten in a new school. He loved his school and his teacher, but making new friends was the best part for him. Life settled down for Zack pretty well, mommy took him to school and Nana picked him up. Daddy always got him in the evenings and took him home. Two years passed and life was good for Zack.

Just as summer vacation started in June 2010, something bigger than Zack, or anyone else could ever have imagined happened. His daddy passed away suddenly, leaving only mommy, Zack, Hunter and big brother Dakota to figure this change out. Of course Nana and Papaw, and the whole family at large, were there too but...it wasn't the same. Needless to say, traditions, no life changed faster than anyone could keep up with.

As each day passed, major milestones did too. Father's Day came just a couple weeks after, leaving Zack to wonder who he would give his father's day present to this year, the first day of third grade, Hunter and Zack's birthdays, and Thanksgiving dinner came and went. I watched a young and struggling family start a new life.

I started this blog before Christmas and it has taken me this long to work it out. As we started thinking what we would do to decorate for the holiday, Zackary came to me and said, "Nana, do you think we could do something different this year? Could we combine all our traditions into one and have a really beautiful Christmas House this year?" When I asked him what he thought that would look like he said, "let's get all of the favorite decorations from your house and all of the nativitys and your tree, and all the favorite ones from our house and our tree, and combine them. We have never done that before. We need something different this year, don't you think?" That's what we did and we did have a beautiful Christmas House.

We talked more about what it should look like, and how to make it the same, but different. Turst me, Zack Dyson has grand ideas and knows how to make them happen.

The first thing he thought we should do, was have the whole family over for a Christmas party, "here in our house". He said, "we need food, eggnog, cookies and all my family". All his family came, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was a very good night and we all went to bed later and happier than usual.

My best friend, "maw maw June", came for a visit and made the boys an "angel bell" ornament for the tree. When they missed daddy, they could ring the bell and remember him. It gave them a chance to share their traditions this year with him. Both Zackary and Hunter enjoyed the bell and the new tradition, asking only a couple questions, and loving their daddy.

Christmas morning brought Santa's gifts at the crack of dawn then we had our blueberry muffins, peaches and cream and of course coffee and hot chocolate. After that snack to hold us over, we opened family presents. Then we ate again, "Father Tim's Christmas Casserole" as we do every year, and everyone took a nap.

On Christmas night, Uncle Tonti prepared a "Cajun Christmas Dinner" with everything Cajun and we did what this family does best, we ate and ate and ate 'til we were stuffed. That tradition will probably never change. ummm.

Zack's cousin Bailey gave each of us a DVD she had made for the whole family. Pics and favorite songs of past years of her uncle Rex as he lived life with the family. Zack sat mesmerized, Hunter jumped up and down and laughed and talked about "my daddy, that's my daddy and me" and the rest of us cried. I think though they were tears we were going to cry that night anyway, but we also got to remember and laugh together as well.

We closed a very full and special day with family gifts one to another. What we shared mostly thourgh out the day and months leading up to the day, is the love this family has for each other.

Life will never be the same for this family and Zack will always be making and facing new traditions, but with the help of our Father in heaven we will make them together and we will always remember the one who loved, laughed and yes argued with great gusto.

Zack and I challenge each of you to cherish the traditions you share with each of your family members and friends,and never take even one of them for granted. This life is a gift, take it and use it, give it away with abandon, never pass up a chance to say "I Love You"...and I do...

YOUR PRINTS

Where Would They Lead?

I was listening to my favorite radio station a couple days ago and the DJ was commenting on a song that had just played. The song I don't remember, but his words struck me as something worth thinking about. He said, "there has been a lot of press about our 'carbon footprint' in the news over the last few months and how they affect the earth for millions of years. How many of us think about how our physical footprints affect the earth and who would they lead?" Then we can ask ourselves how long those prints will last.

That made me think of song from, oh, maybe the 60's, I don't really remember because it was a country song and I have tried to forget as many of those as possible. But the song was, "If Finger Prints Showed Up On Skin, Whose Would Show Up On You?" Yeah, that's why I've tried to forget, not a pretty visual, but in a way, it's the same thought as who would your footprints lead?

Whose fingerprints would you find there...family of course, friends you haven't seen in a long time, maybe even someone you don't particularly like. But would you find the little old man or lady who sits in the nursing home day after day waiting for someone to come and give them a hug, or the person who lives on your street but looks very different from you, or what about the person who ran a red light and smashed your new car? The unlovable in general, the EGR's (extra grace required) in your life. Those whose views differ from your own...

If you think about it for a minute -- the footprint part -- there is really no telling who you lead, or maybe who follows you. Of course we automatically think, my children and grandchildren (their friends and children, too), but also spouses, siblings, friends, co-workers (maybe even bosses)... depending on your profession, maybe patients, students, clients, even the carhop who brings out your coke at Sonic....your prints could be endless.

My first thought was to myself and it went something like this...Yeah, maybe the children, grandchildren, spouse and, okay, maybe friends, but beyond that, I'm just not responsible. Well, okay, maybe my siblings, but that's not fair, I'm not "my brothers keeper" (just a little pun here), umm...okay I will accept that maybe I could be responsible for how my footprints might affect them. The rest of those people though are on their own.

My second thought was to God and it went something like this...okay, so maybe there are people both known to me, and those I have yet to meet, who follow my footprints. Just where have I been walking over the last half century (ok, maybe longer) that doesn't lead to You? I can think of a couple trails I wish I had blazed differently.

These paths and prints could be intentional or not, real foot paths, or verbal expressions, visual indiscretions, physical or emotional bruises, I guess there are as many possibilities as there are people. Only we, ourselves and our God, knows where our footprints have been, but be assured, others have followed, into eternity.

My third and last thought for tonight is...let's make a conscience effort to know just where our prints lead, even if we can't know everyone who follows them.

Father, may all our footprints lead to You.

I love you all, good night. :-)

TRANSITIONS

Life Is Ever Changing

I think for the most part we can say our lives, as children, are carefree and confident. We do what kids are designed to do, in whatever way we are "shaped" to. We trust our parents and/or grand parents instinctively to love and provide for us. We bring nothing "to the table", so to speak, but have no fear of owing anything for what we are given.

Most of us spend years believing and trusting those who provide for us while we grow into the person we will become.

...Younger teens are still trusting loved ones to provide and make life possible for us while being completely self-absorbed and giving very little of ourselves in return.

...As life's lessons get harder and we get older, we become more self-reliant, but still self-absorbed, wanting to do things "our way and learn from our own mistakes", at least until the mistakes start to hurt us, then we start looking for someone else to blame.

...Ahhh, the blame game...it seems this is a favorite, until our own children start to arrive, then our focus begins to change. Actually it begins to look familiar, like deja vu, maybe. Let's not admit there is a state called, "'been there, done that'" save yourself some time and learn from our mistakes. We might recognize it, but let's not say anything yet, maybe no one else will either.

As each of life's transitions occur, we look back on the experiences of earlier stages and wish we could have spent a little more time in each one, maybe preparing a little more fully for what would lie ahead. We don't feel prepared to deal with grown up life.

If you are like me, and I'm fairly confident you are, you have not found it easy to trust the One whose chosen job it is to care for and walk through these bigger and more difficult life stages with you. It's difficult to understand "why?" when it makes no sense at all.

He tells us not to lean on our own understanding. Even though He has promised "never to leave us or forsake us", He tells us "I know the plans I have for you, to make you prosper, not to harm you." He calls us "friend." He says "Come to me if you have a heavy burden." "If I care for the birds of the air, and fish of the sea, so will I care for you." Even in light of the promises He gives, we still cannot fully trust Him.

This is a major transition for us....to lean on Him and not ourselves. I'm still, in many of the changes in my life, struggling to trust, to "Stop striving" and lean on Him. In our small group on Sundays we have started an exercise on "Communicating with God." Journaling is a large part of the exercise and I enjoy it greatly. The exercise is not new to me, but sometimes I let life happen and forget I don't have to do it alone, or have anything to prove. I've long started my day by saying, "Father, don't let me do anything today that will not bring Honor to You." I will now add:

"Father, what do You want to tell me today"...so far His answer has been "Trust Me."

He is in every transition we make and is big enough to carry us through them. I invite each of you to communicate with God along with me daily in a quiet time and place.

I love each of you,

"Oh That Your Hand Would Be With Me"

MY TERRITORY

In our life group we are reading the small book by Bruce Wilkinson called "The Prayer of Jabez". While I was reading for this past Sunday, I asked Les his view on the prayer and he said he didn't think Jabez prayer was meant to be used as a model prayer for us. It was something personal between Jabez and God, but certainly we could learn from his experiences. I'm not sure how we are meant to take the prayer, but the words in this book have struck a cord in my heart

As I finished chapter three and started on chapter. four, the words seemed to jump out at me. The point in this chapter is "oh that your hand would be with me". The writer was talking about descending to power and how out of control and weak he was feeling in his ministry, territory, whatever. He wasn't feeling at all the way a leader should feel. The thought the advisor gave him was that his feeling of being out of control was actually his dependence on The Lord...

I told a friend just a few days ago I had felt out of control in my ministry...the same way Bruce was feeling, but is that not what we strive all our lives to overcome? dependence on someone else? We want to stand on our own two feet, do it our way, make our own mark on the world. Show our ability to "lead". I have to say, I haven't been depending on The Lord, my Out of Control is not in a good way.

As I read the words (and this will probably not explain how I feel or why, it's only helping me to see it more clearly) I realized I had actually asked God (in my heart only of course) to expand my territory within the women's ministry at BACC BEFORE it was presented to me. I wanted that territory and He blessed me and gave it to me. I wanted it to help the younger women relate to and learn from the older women, I wanted to help those who were hurting to heal and trust the Father. He brought into my life very effective tools for doing these things but I'm not actively seeking to use them.

Les and I have asked for many years for Him to bless and grow our territory within our family, our children, grand children, brothers and sisters and their families. This is a very dear and constant desire for me. Again I feel I have not depended upon Him walking beside me and have missed opportunity to bless as I've been blessed.

What have I been doing, Nothing. Actually I have been shirking my blessings and leaving them on the table. No wonder I feel incapable and weak, I'm NOT depending on Him to increase my gift.

I remind myself of the conversation I had with Zackary today about all of the birthday and Christmas gifts he has asked for over the last few years and has received. Now most of them lie in a pile, broken with parts missing and pages torn. He was willing to "donate" those gifts to others, but not willing to care for and appreciate the givers of those gifts.

Father, forgive me for asking for my territory to be larger and then not appreciating the gift or the giver. Restore my dependence on you to once again honor those in my territory.

If you happen to be reading this, you are in my territory by the gift of our Lord and I thank Him for you. I love you and offer myself to you!

Your Friend,

Alma