20 Hour Car Ride

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Over the holidays, we will be traveling across the country to see our daughter and her husband in Utah.  Yep, it’s a 20 hour car ride.  So, I’m thinking about what I need to bring along to make the time fly (since I can’t).   I’d appreciate your suggestions.  Keep in mind we are packing 18 years worth of our daughter’s memorabilia and special-somethings in the van, so space is limited.  Also take into consideration that 5 adults will be enjoying close-knit family time, so we all need to be as annoying-free as possible.  That reminds me, I’ll bring my knitting.

Here’s my list so far:

1. Knitting needles and yarn.  I shouldn’t need much yarn since I usually make a mistake about halfway through a scarf and have to unravel it all anyway.  (I don’t know how to pick up dropped stitches yet.)   I’ll knit through Iowa, unravel through Nebraska, knit through Wyoming, unravel through Utah.

2.  Ipod.  I need to remember to download some free podcasts and put all my Christmas music back on.  Thank you, Lord, for ipods.  I couldn’t stand to listen to my kids’ music.  What?  They feel the same about mine?  No way.

3.  Books:  I’m bringing “Radical” by David Platt.  (I had to wait 4 months on inter-library loan for this book.  Gonna be good.)  Oh, and my favorite, “Diary of Private Prayer” by John Baillie.  (See Oct. 6 post)  It’s always good to have some prayers handy in case we hit a blizzard in Cheyenne.  Magazines: Country Sampler, Shop Smart, Real Simple, Bible Study (yes, there is a magazine called Bible Study).  

4.  Videos:  Two sweet friends gave me the PBS presentation of “Emma” for my birthday.  My daughter and I will torture the boys with Jane Austin.  And talk in High English accents for miles and miles.  That shouldn’t be too annoying.

5.  Snacks: Granola bars, string cheese, apples.  Licorice. 

6.  Idea notebook.  You never know when inspiration will hit.  Plus, it’s always fun to record quotes from grouchy people in the backseat, unless I’m the grouchy person in the backseat.

7.  Computer.  Blogging on the road might be fun.  Solitaire will come in handy during hours 16-20.

8.  Camera.  Expect to see lots of pics of people sleeping in awkward positions in reclined car seats.  There will be numerous photos of treeless landscapes and a long ribbon of highway, I have a feeling. 

9. Crossword puzzles:  I’ve been stashing the daily newspaper crossword away for a few weeks.  I’ll try not to cheat by looking at the answers in the next day’s issue.

So, what else should be on my list?

The Gift of an Hour

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My times are in your hands.  Psalm 31:15

Today is my favorite day of the year! No, really! Today marks the end of Daylight Savings Time. There’s something lovely about getting an extra hour to use however you want. There’s something powerful about taking the minute hand and sweeping it backwards, defying time itself. There’s something magical about being given the gift of an hour. How shall it be spent?

I like this day because it’s not a holiday, so there is no hype, no advertising, no gift buying. The mail is still delivered, the grocery store is open, everything carries on as usual. But all day long I am aware that there is a bonus built into this one day. I feel a real sense of anticipation as I search for appropriately worthy ways to fill this space of time. Sometimes I read, sometimes I pray, sometimes I sleep. Tonight, I write.

Is it possible that every hour is such a gift?

Singin’

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I love musicals. My favorite all-time movie is “Singin’ in the Rain”. It makes me want to break out into a spontaneous song and dance routine while grocery shopping or gassing up the van. Except, unlike the movies, where everyone suddenly joins in with perfect four-part harmony and synchronized dance step sequences, I would be afraid of having to explain my behavior to a police officer. But, oh, to live in a world where people bust out with a show tune and it snowballs into a real show stopper, right there in the check out line. What a fine world that would be.

Music is a powerful force. Just try to imagine living without music. One of the best things about a song is how it can transport you back to a place and time. For instance, when I hear James Taylor’s “Smiling Face”, I’m sitting in my dorm room writing a letter to my future husband. I was falling in love with his smiling face even though we were four states away from each other. That song reminds me of those carefree days and the excitement of a future out there somewhere.

Maybe that’s why the last thing Moses did before climbing a mountain to die, was to teach the Israelites a song. He knew a sermon wouldn’t be remembered after he was gone, and he had already given his share of commandments. But a song…a song would stick with them. So, he composed a song, a very long song, and taught it to the whole assembly of Israel. (Deuteronomy 32) Imagine a 120 year old man standing before a nation, delivering the performance of a lifetime. It would not be forgotten. It would be sung and re-sung for generations. A reminder of their heritage, of their glory days, of their God and His faithfulness.

Moses’ song must have been a good one, because, as it turns out, it will continue on in the last days. (Revelation 15:2-4)  Maybe my dream of being in a spontaneous outburst of song and dance isn’t that far away.

Saved By Grace

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For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace. Romans 6:14

I once knew a boy who was picked up for speeding. He was issued a ticket and given a stiff fine. There was some question in his mind about the whole thing, so he went back to the scene of the crime and re-enacted the event. It was proven that he couldn’t have been going 35 mph in a 25 mph zone because he had just come to a stop at an intersection and wasn’t able to get up to 35 mph where he was clocked. Also, on the ticket, the car was reported to be brown. The boy’s car was blue. Hmm….  The boy decided that he should plead his case.

On judgement day, the boy stood before Her Honor to defend himself. He presented his case with humbleness and respect. Clearly, a mistake had been made and he was certain that his straight-forward honesty would redeem his driving record. The judge asked, “Were you speeding?” Not one given to lies, he admitted that he was perhaps going 27 mph. “Then you broke the law.” Once again, he reiterated the facts that didn’t seem to line up. “You admitted to going over the speed limit.” Gavel bangs. Guilty.

I once knew another boy who had a fender bender. He was issued a ticket and given a stiff fine. There was some question in his mind about the whole thing, so he went back to the scene of the crime and re-enacted the event. It was proven that the car turning the corner had cut into his lane, causing the minor accident. The officer took both driver’s statements and the boy pleaded his case with humbleness and respect. Clearly, a mistake had been made. The other driver said, “I may have cut into his lane.” The boy, not one given to lies, said, “I did roll forward slightly.” Gavel bangs. Guilty.

So it is with the law. There is no grace. Admitting even the slightest infraction makes you a law-breaker. In fact, the law makes you want to be less than truthful; the law makes a sinner out of you.

All that passing laws against sin did was produce more lawbreakers. But sin didn’t, and doesn’t, have a chance in competition with the aggressive forgiveness we call grace. When it’s sin versus grace, grace wins hands down. Romans 5:20

Now, for something truly remarkable: In the mailbox, an envelope appears; no stamp, no address, just the name of the boy. An anonymous note: “Like the MasterCard commercial: truthfulness – priceless.” Inside the envelope: cash to pay for the ticket.

Grace wins hands down.

Duet

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Walking the dog is my job most of the time, which is really okay with me.  Before the sun rises, Bo and I walk around the neighborhood; she sniffs for rabbits, I listen to praise music on my ipod and talk to God.  If we didn’t have a dog, I’d be less likely to get up and go every morning, so I guess you could say Bo has contributed significantly to my spiritual life.  I’ve found I like getting up early to greet the day with a breath of fresh air on nice spring, summer and fall mornings.  Winter, though….not so much.  So my husband and I have worked out a system.  When Daylight Savings Time ends in the fall, he takes over the morning dog routine on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, while I have Friday through Monday.  Not quite even, but then again, there are an odd number of days in the week.   

Imagine my delight this morning, as we were discussing the coming transfer of dog duties, when he made a remarkable suggestion.  “How about a duet walk on Saturdays?  We could walk Bo together and go get a coffee.”  A duet walk.  Never in my life have I heard anything so sweet come from my man.  A duet walk.  I was astonished and amazed.  Instead of suggesting we take turns on Saturday, letting the other sleep in, he proposed a duet.

I guess that’s what we have been these past thirty-one years: a duet.  Each one playing a melody, but harmonizing with each other to create a life that neither could produce on our own.  There have been some dissonant times, probably when we just weren’t listening very well to each other; but, oh, when we’re on the same page and in sync with each other…..

From now on I am going to introduce him as my duet partner.

Wigglers

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Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Matthew 11:28

I gave birth to four babies, one at a time, over eight years. Two were snugglers, one was a wiggler and the other was a snuggler/wiggler combo. When I wanted a sweet-baby-cuddle, the wiggler would do that back-arching thing and constantly be moving, shifting, reaching, squirming. We had hugs and kisses, to be sure; but long rock-a-byes weren’t on this child’s agenda. The world was too interesting and stimulating to sit long. However, occasionally there was an owie, or a fever, or a broken arm. Then, the wiggler would settle in on my lap and succumb to snuggles. Wigglers sometimes have to be forced to snuggle.

I’ve been wiggling too much lately. God has graciously invited me to run into His arms, which I have done day after day, over and over. But I’m hard to hold; I arch my back and jostle and churn. Unlike the wiggles of a little one who is just on the go, mine is a restless, agitated motion that can’t seem to come to rest in the Loving Arms until I’ve worn myself out with some inner commotion. Inevitably, a painful situation (owie), or a heated conversation (fever), or a fractured relationship (broken arm) will sap my strength enough to halt the fussing. Sometimes I have to be forced to rest. But, oh, to learn to lean on the Everlasting Arms without all the wiggling.

Borrowing Prayers from John Baillie

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John Baillie was a professor of divinity at Edinburgh University in Scotland from 1934-1956 and wrote over 15 books on theology. I bought one at a garage sale for 50 cents. It has changed my life.

Unlike his other deeply intellectual volumes, this little book is plain and simple. It’s called “A Diary of Private Prayer”. I’ve always liked reading other people’s diaries. Getting in on someone’s private thoughts might seem nosey, and I guess it is. However, being allowed into a godly man’s private prayer closet feels like hushed and holy ground. It’s a real privilege.

For thirty-one days, Professor Baillie wrote a prayer for each morning and each evening. They sound like prayers you could imagine your grandfather saying, with all the “thees” and “thou arts”, “dosts” and “hasts”. People don’t talk like that anymore, but there is something beautiful about the language that seems sacred and hallowed. I admit, those ancient words trip me up occasionally and I find myself interpreting them to my 21st century mind. Even then, these prayers ring true and touch a deep place somewhere in me. I couldn’t in a million years come up with prayers like this on my own, but I sure like to pray like this sometimes. So I borrow John’s prayers when I need to inject some oomph into my paltry parlance. For instance:

“First Day, Morning – Eternal Father of my soul, let my first thought today be of Thee, let my first impulse be to worship Thee, let my first speech be Thy name, let my first action be to kneel before Thee in prayer…  Let me not, when this morning prayer is said, think my worship ended and spend the day in forgetfulness of Thee. Rather from these moments of quietness let light go forth, and joy, and power, that will remain with me through all the hours of the day…”

Translation: “Dear Lord, this morning let the first thought that enters my mind be of You, let my first impulse propel me to worship You, let the first word out of my mouth be Your Name, let my first act be to get on my knees in prayer. And when I walk away from this quiet time, don’t let me get away with thinking I’m done worshiping and forget You the rest of the day. Instead, let these quiet moments infuse light and joy and power into every hour ahead of me.”

Amen, brother John. Thanks for lending me your prayers.

Be Still

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It’s been quiet on here for a couple weeks. I’ve been taking a crash course on “being still”. Actually, the first week was the opposite of still: hurried, harried, anxious, overwhelmed, unbalanced, uneasy. Then came the lesson: be still.

The word “still” in Hebrew means to sink, relax, sink down, let drop, let go. This is reflected in how different versions interpret the phrase.

“Cease striving.” (NAS)

“Let be and be still.” (AMP)

“Calm down.” (CEV)

“Let go of your concerns.” (GWT)

“Desist.” (YLT)

“Step out of the traffic.” (Message)

“Sit down and shut up awhile.” (DPR) (See previous post)

Here’s what I am learning.

Be – not “do” still. I can do still. I can make myself sit down, take a breath and appear to be calm. But be still? That means the stillness is in my very being and what appears on the outside is a true reflection of the calmness on the inside.

Still – quiet and motionless; a time-out from noise, media, frenzied activity.

And – The Psalmist doesn’t just say “Be still” period. There’s a reason and a purpose for the stillness.

Know – The stillness allows for a knowing. I need clarity, understanding, divine revelation. That’s just not attainable outside of some stillness.

That – There’s something specific that I really need to know…

I – That’s God speaking.  He’s saying, “I, not you, I…”

Am – Not was, not will be, but I AM presently…

God – Creator, Sustainer, Redeemer, Provider, Healer, and on and on. (One website lists 625 names for God.) I get the point – there is nothing outside the realm of His reign. I need to know that. I need to slow down enough and quiet down enough to receive that truth.

Be still, and know that I am God. Be still, and know that I am God.

Be still, and listen for His voice.

Be still.

When You speak I want to hear, when You whisper in my ear,

Lord, help me to draw near and be still.

Rewriting the Psalms

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I love the book of Psalms. It’s the first place I turn when I am sad, burdened and in need of comfort. Sometimes I go to familiar verses, the ones I can count on time after time to express exactly how I am feeling. Sometimes I am surprised by a new thought that never occurred to me in a new verse I’d never noticed before.

In an effort to really understand the depth of these beautiful writings, I decided to rewrite the Psalms. The Book of Psalms According to Dinah. Phrase by phrase, I had to think about each word and how I would express the same thought. For instance, Psalm 30:1-5 says,

“I will exalt you, O Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. O Lord, you brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down into the pit. Sing to the Lord, you saints of his; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” NIV

Now the DPR version (Dinah’s Personal Rendition): “Because You lifted me up out of the hole I was in and kept others from kicking me when I was down, I will now hold You up for all to see. Here’s how it happened: I cried ‘help’ and You made it all better. Honestly, Lord, it’s like being buried alive and having someone dig you up just in time. This calls for some singing and praising, everybody! God may show a flash of anger from time to time, but what rules the day is His loving acceptance. I can cry a river at night, but as sure as the sunrise, things will look better in the morning.”

I hope David doesn’t mind me putting my own twist on his poems. I’m not attempting to change them, just relate on a deeper level. Just trying to get into the psalm writer’s head and get the ancient words into my heart.

Buck Snort

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While my husband and I were on our first real vacation ever (I’m still dreaming about it), we ventured into town to take a look around.  I was intriuged by a sign adveritsing “Buck Snort Coffeehouse”.  I told my man I just HAD to get a coffee at Buck Snort.  Imagine my disappointment when we found the front door locked and building empty.  Evidently Buck Snort Coffeehouse was no longer in business, so I had to settle for a picture by the front sign.

And a picture by the sign on the side of the building. 

We went next door to the gift shop and asked the owner about the empty building.  And the sign.  She dialed up the owner, Inga, and handed the phone to my hubby.  He was a little startled, but talked to Inga about the sign, expressing interest in buying it.  Inga was perplexed, but said she’d get back to us.  Two days later, we checked back with the gift shop owner and once again, was handed the phone with Inga on the line.    “Okay,”  she said, “would $25 be too much?” 

So we hopped on over to the empty coffeehouse and unscrewed the sign (after borrowing a screw driver from a guy with tools in the back of his pick-up truck.  I love small towns!  He and his buddy and the gift shop lady all came out to watch us take down the sign.)  Then we left $25 in an envelope with Inga’s name on it at the gift shop.  We smiled all the way back to our cabin on the lake.  We smiled every time we got in the car and looked at the sign. 

 I smile every time I walk in my back door and see the “Buck Snort Coffeehouse” sign hanging in my ktichen.