Emeraude

Some years, I find the perfect Christmas gift.  Some years, I don’t.  I nailed it this year.  PB opened the present from me and thought it was some stinky men’s cologne.  Without even looking at the bottle, he thanked me and set it down.  I smiled and said, “Oh, honey, that’s not men’s cologne.  You’d better smell it.”   With a curious look he lifted off the top and took a whiff.  Immediately, his eyes got a far-away, glazed-over look and somebody said, “What’s wrong with dad?”

Here’s the rest of the story:  In 1974, my brother was asked to lead the youth part of a weekend retreat at a church several hours away, so I went along for the ride.   The first person I met when we arrived was the pastor’s cute sixteen year old son.  In the following 48 hours, we got to know each other and flirted a little bit.  Ok, a lot.  Even at fourteen, I knew what I wanted in a guy — he had to have a strong faith in God, he had to sing, and he had to be good-looking.  Check…..check……check.   After the potluck dinner on Sunday afternoon, we exchanged addresses in the fellowship hall and promised to write.  (I’m referring here to letters.  No email, texts or Facebook chats.  Gosh, I feel old suddenly.)

A flurry of mail went back and forth over the next few months.  He used his best handwriting.  I sprayed my envelopes with Emeraude.  Hence, the far-away, glazed-over look this Christmas Eve.

Scent has a powerful connection to memory in our brains.  The sense of smell is sometimes called “nasal nostalgia” because we have strong associations of past memories with certain scents.  When God gave Moses instructions on building the tabernacle, He included a recipe for incense (Exodus 30:34-38) that was to be used exclusively at the place of worship.  Just one whiff of that spicy fragrance, and the Israelites were aware that they were entering the presence of the Lord.

Just one whiff of Emeraude, and PB was back in 1974, falling in love with me.

Long Time, No Hear

listeningSome of my friendly blog buddies have been wondering if I am just now “coming to” after the twin news.  I admit, the announcement did leave me speechless for a while.  But actually, the silence here at Small Drop has been a bit of an experiment.  What happens when I stop writing…or posting….or speaking?  Do people stop reading….or logging on….or listening?  How long are we willing to wait to hear from someone?

How about 400 years?  Malachi wrote the last word of the Old Testament sometime around 430 B.C.   Then came four centuries of silence.  No prophets spoke, no predictions were proclaimed, no judgements were called down on the wicked, no blessings were promised to the faithful.  Nothing.  Silence.

Four hundred years ago it was 1512.  Martin Luther was in seminary and Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel.  What if we had not heard from God since 1512?  It’s remarkable that the story even survived.  It’s astounding that God’s people continued to wait and hope and pray.  Somehow, each generation kept handing down the directive: Wait.  God will speak again.

Then He did.  His first word after all those long years was, “Waaaahhhhh.”  He cried.  The priests weren’t expecting a baby’s wail.  They were sure it would sound more like a thundering voice coming out of smoke and fire, “Thus saith the Lord.”  So they missed it.

That’s what I love about God — He keeps me on my toes.  Just when I think I figure Him out, He does something wild and unexpected.

My experiment with silence on the blog confirmed my suspicions, as each day fewer and fewer people stopped by.  And then something wild and unexpected happened.  Yesterday, after all those days of no posts, hundreds visited Small Drop for my biggest day ever.  Figuring things out is highly overrated.  Being surprised is much more fun.

Lord, I welcome Your surprises.  Go ahead and say or do what I’m not expecting.  Just don’t let me miss it.

In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son.  Hebrews 1:1

Moving On

It’s been a big week.  I celebrated another birthday and the election is finally over.  There are lots of things I could say about both events, but, you know what?  I’m moving on.

Instead of bemoaning the fact that I’m now 53 and whining over the aging process, today I’m going to revel in the realization that I’m alive and healthy and in my right mind (most of the time).

Instead of being dismayed that it was a whopping thirty years ago that I first became a mother, today I will delight in my adult children and rejoice that they still return my phone calls.

Instead of debating about which candidate had all the answers to the weak job market and the struggling economy, today I’m going to go to my office, do my job, and then stop at the store on my way home and buy a few groceries.

Instead of wringing my hands over the decline in moral values and Biblical standards in our society, today I’m going to live with a high level of integrity and pray for my neighbors.

Instead of watching Wall Street and sweating over the Dow Jones Average, today I’m going to invest in each person I meet by depositing a kind word and a smile.

Sometimes the best thing to do is move on.

But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today.  Heb. 3:13

Invisible Fence

A house near us has a sign in the front yard: “This property is lined with an invisible fence”.  One day, I witnessed the power of the invisible fence.  Bo, our dog, and I were strolling down the street when a big dog came bounding across a yard, heading right for us.  The hair on Bo’s back stood straight up and she positioned herself for battle.  I desperately held on to the leash, trying to avoid a dog fight that Bo was certain to lose.

Then, much to our surprise, the other dog stopped short, let out a yelp and sat down on the edge of the lawn.  We hustled past, both Bo and I, with hearts racing.  I thought, “I need to get myself one of those things.”  But I didn’t have my dog in mind.  I was thinking it might come in handy for me.

Sometimes I wish I had an invisible fence……. for my mouth — some kind of system that would give me a little jolt when I am about to say something insensitive.  I could really use a sharp jab when sarcasm is preparing to spew or when a negative comment is threatening to erupt.  I would gladly accept momentary discomfort if I knew it would keep me from uttering regrettable words.

Such a fence has potential, not just for what comes out of my mouth, but also for what goes in.  For instance, a slight buzz when I’m standing in the kitchen gazing at the almond poundcake might be enough to make me grab a carrot instead.  The Caramel Apple Cheesecake Bars might lose their allure if I know a zap is coming with the first bite.

Perhaps the Psalmist was wishing for an invisible fence when he wrote,

“Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips.”  Psalm 141:3

Buried Treasure

One night last week, PB and I drove out to Devil’s Lake State Park.  After a busy day, we like to go to the lake to soak up the natural beauty and unwind.  Sometimes we walk around the lake or climb the bluffs, but occasionally we do my personal favorite: sit on a picnic table and look at the water.

That evening, a young family happened to stroll by and PB struck up a friendly conversation.  We talked about their dog, a retired racing greyhound.  While we chatted, their little girl ran up and down the path and their young son dug in the dirt with a stick.  Before they moved on, the mom asked her boy if he was writing his name in the dirt.  He replied that he was marking the spot with an X because there was treasure buried there.  She smiled at her little guy and then explained to us that he had been leaving X’s all over the park.

The family began to walk toward the parking lot when PB leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Watch this.”  Then my hubby took two quarters out of his pocket, placed them on the X and kicked a little dirt over them.   “Excuse me!” he called out. “There’s something here!”  The boy stopped in his tracks, raced over to the spot and bent down to see if it was true.  A look of wonder came over his face as he picked up the coins.  He began to jump up and down, shouting, “Treasure!  I got treasure!”

I looked over at PB and thought, “I got some treasure, too.”

“He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.”  Proverbs 11:25

Mt. Sinai Mystery

I can’t stand it any more.  I just have to ask.

Back in January of 2011, I published a blog post called, “Up and Down Mt. Sinai” (See January 27, 2011).  Since then, thousands of people have read that little essay.  That’s saying a lot, since I have many posts that have been read only once or twice.  Week after week for almost two years, “Up and Down” has been my Top Post by a landslide.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out why.  It’s a mystery.

Do lots of people type “Mt. Sinai” into a search engine and stumble onto my blog?  Or is someone checking into my blog one hundred times a day just to get my heart racing?   Or is there a religious school somewhere that has marked my post as required reading?  I’m at a loss.  I’d like your help.  Tell me why you are here.  I’m dying to know.  Thanks!

Leave a comment or email me at dinah.overlien@gmail.com

Pondering Treasures

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”  Luke 2:19

Oh, Mary, I completely understand.  These past few weeks, I have been doing a lot of treasuring and pondering.  No writing, but lots of treasuring and pondering.  I’m finding it hard to put words to it all.  Perhaps that’s best — Mary held her remembrances “dear, deep within her heart” both at her son’s birth (Luke 2:19) and twelve years later when she and Joseph found Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:51).  I suspect she did a lot of treasuring in between, too.  Years later, when Luke was gathering information for his gospel, Mary must have provided him with details of that wondrous night in Bethlehem when she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes.  Who else would have been able to describe that event so vividly?  As Luke took notes, Mary was able to go deep in her heart to retrieve those precious memories.

Unlike mothers in Biblical times, I have photographs and home videos to pull out when I want to take a walk down memory lane.  I have Skype and Instagram and Facebook and a smart phone.  But there’s something about those “snapshots” that are embedded in the heart — such riches.

Here are a few recent images I’ve filed away, dear and deep:

My son pledging his life to his beautiful bride and braiding three cords together while wiping sweat from his brow and tears from his eyes.

My older daughter’s rich mellow voice drifting over the ocean breeze, singing a love song with the sweetness of a mother’s lullaby.

My younger daughter reading about the significance of the three strands, her slightly rounded belly holding promise of a soon-to-be family of three.

My younger son standing to toast the groom, stumbling over his words a bit, but sure and strong in his admiration of his big brother.

And of course, Hudson –watching him figure out how to crawl, then chasing him everywhere.  Also, his delight in the sound of potato chips crunching in my mouth.  I would have eaten a whole bag full of chips just to hear his belly laugh after each munch.  Wait, I did eat a whole bag of chips.  And it was so worth it.

And my last snapshot: at the end of the festivities and receptions and houseful of family, PB and I reveling in the quiet, looking at each other and saying. “We did it.”   So glad it comes back around to just him and me once more.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matthew 6:19-21

Jackpot

Thursday night the Packers played the Bears at 7:20 p.m. CT.  At 6:15 p.m., realization hit that the game was only on the NFL Network — which we don’t get.  After a few moments of wide-eyed angst, PB did what he does so well.  He took charge, called the 800 number for our cable company, and sweet talked the lady into giving us the NFL Network.  For free.  Gosh, I love that man. 

Evidently, a few weeks ago, we received a notice in the mail from the cable company announcing that several channels were being added to our lineup.  And that wasn’t all!  For such loyal customers as PB and I, the monthly charge was actually being dropped by several dollars.  All we needed to do was to call in or go to the web site and verify our address. 

Evidently, I threw the notice away.  But I’m secretly kind of glad, because PB got to come off looking like a hero.  In a matter of minutes, we were watching the pre-game show and reveling in the fact that his great charm got us 100 new channels for $10 less per month.  We hit the jackpot.  And I was going to settle for listening to the game on the radio.  Geesh.

I probably settle for less more than I realize.  God offers a pretty sweet deal, but I only take Him up on small parts of it.

Eternal life?  Great!  And blessings here on earth besides?  What? 

Peace of mind?  Wonderful!  But joy and purpose and security too?  Really? 

Forgiveness and grace?  I’ll take it!  Plus Holy Spirit power?  Come on.

God is the jackpot.  I don’t have to charm anything out of Him — He offers so much more than I even know.   I just need to tune in.

Backordered

One of my responsibilities as Christian Education Director at my church is to order material for the classes and study groups starting in September.  A new class is being offered this fall called “Foundations” — it will be a place for new believers or people without a church background to learn about the basic beliefs of the Christian faith.  Each topic has its own study guide: God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Church, Salvation, and the Bible.  I’m excited to give people a solid place to begin their journey of faith.

When the box arrived this week I eagerly opened it to look over the material.  The packing list was resting on top and something caught my eye.  At the bottom of the printout was the following statement:

THE ITEM LISTED BELOW IS PRESENTLY UNAVAILABLE:

BACKORDERED: GOD

No kidding.

Later, as I was talking to a friend about the class, the conversation went something like this:

“What topic should we start with?”

“Well, I was hoping to start with God, but He’s on backorder, so I guess we’ll have to start with Jesus.”

“That’s not a bad place to start.”

“Yeah, that will be fine, unless God gets here before the 9th.”

Huh.  Ever feel that way?  I sure have.  I place my order with God (do this, change that, heal him, help her) and when it doesn’t pan out according to my plan, I’m disappointed.  I keep hoping God will show up in the nick of time, but I am already forming a back-up plan just in case.  Before long, I wonder why He seems far away.

I’ve found that most often, when I feel distant from God, it’s because I’m not showing up.

Maybe I’d better sign up for the class in basics.

I seem to need to relearn those foundational truths regularly.

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.  James 4:8

Fair Time

The county fair is in town this week. 

It is that special time of year when all things are fair.

My aunt had a famous comeback to my cousins when one of them whined, “But it’s not fair!”  She would respond, “The fair comes to town once a year and the rest of the year, it’s just not fair.”  I’ve used that line many-a-time with my own kids.  For fifty one weeks out of the year, my aunt’s saying is golden.  But for that one week, when it IS fair time, the adage is trouble.

For me a sense of fairness usually comes into play when I’ve been slighted or  overlooked.  I look at someone else’s portion and compare it to mine — always a dangerous game — and feel like I’ve gotten the short end of the deal.  However, when I look at my heaping plate and compare it to someone who has less, rarely do I cry out, “It’s not fair!  I have more than they do!”

This comparing among ourselves gets us into trouble.  But when we start looking heavenward and shaking our finger at God, we’ve gone too far.  The Israelites took it to that level and God delivered a message to them through Jeremiah.  “Do I hear you saying, ‘That’s not fair! God’s not fair!’?  Listen, Israel. I’m not fair? You’re the ones who aren’t fair!”  (Jeremiah 18:25, The Message)  Gulp.  That leads to a good question: How fair am I being to God? 

Considering the cost of His own Son’s death so I could have forgiveness, how fair is it to God when I hold on to ill feelings toward others and refuse to let them go?

Considering the creative genius and intricate detail behind the creation of this world, how fair is it to God when I entertain thoughts that it all just happened by chance?

Considering the provision I enjoy (food I eat, the clothes I wear, the house I live in) how fair is it to God when I think I’ve done pretty well for myself?

I guess my aunt was wrong.  Even when the county fair is on, it’s still not fair.

Who can compare with God, our God, so majestically enthroned, surveying his magnificent heavens and earth? He picks up the poor from out of the dirt, rescues the wretched who’ve been thrown out with the trash.  Psalm 113: 5-7 

Oh yeah.  I got the long end of that deal.