THE PROMISE

Originally written: 10-24-03
The clock read 9:45 am. I awoke late this morning, the blessing of a daughter who can now drive herself to school. I had not meant to sleep this late. Going to bed early and sleeping late was a rarity for me. Actually, the getting up early was the exception; I often went to bed late, getting only 5 or 6 hours of sleep. But last night I slept almost 12 hours and still felt like I had only slept 5 or 6. I 'm sure I would have slept longer but the sound of my husband ‘banging’ the cabinet doors in the bathroom suggested it was time to start the day. Tired as I was, it seemed I had something important to do but I just couldn’t remember what it was.

As I entered the bathroom, my husband handed me a little rubber dot. It was one of those tabs they put on cabinet doors and drawers to keep them from banging when they are shut with natural inertia; or any other time when you don’t shut them gently with your hand. So I hopped … ok, walked stiffly … downstairs to retrieve the super glue. I noticed my bible sitting on the kitchen cupboard as I passed between it and the table on the way to the laundry room where the glue box is stored. This bible is a wonderful translation that makes reading it a joy. Whenever its passages seemed to say something I have never understood before or just something I thought I had never heard I would grab my latest King James Version and check it out. Even though their words were different, their messages were always the same. The colorful cover showed a wear not reflected by the pages inside. I carry it with me to church and often carry it around the house, trying to find the right place to store it, something that would make it easy for me to see and thereby read every day.

I felt something within me and words rose up from my heart. “Yes, Lord, we had talked last night about me spending more time with you each morning. The preacher on TV had talked about our need to be warriors. He had said Elisha was chosen because he had a sword and reminded us your word is a two edged sword. And the main use of the bible is to read it. But first let me fix this tab. Come with me it will only take a few minutes. I promise.” I walked into the kitchen and noticed the green light on the dishwasher door. I opened it and pulled out the bottom rack. No, wait, ‘THE GLUE!’

High on the shelves in the laundry room sat the various clear plastic shoeboxes containing everything from batteries to glitter to tea-lite candles, beads, feathers, acrylic paint, light bulbs and…glue! I pulled the top box down, lifted the blue lid and dug for the tiny tube of super glue; there it was, at the bottom backside of the box. I laid the box on the dryer and retreated from the laundry room, passing the bible and headed up the stairs to the master bath. I found the most appropriate door for the tab and as I was applying the glue to the tab I caught a glimpse of a small drop falling toward the floor. “Dang!” And, yes, that is what I thought. I didn’t say it aloud because my husband was out of sight but not out of hearing. He would not have appreciated the glue on the rug and would have spent hours trying to find it and clean it up.

I shut the cabinet door carefully and felt nothing wet or sticky on the rug in front of it. On the way to returning the glue to its safe haven for finding it next time, I passed my bible, still sitting on the cupboard. “Yes, Lord, let me eat breakfast and get a cup of coffee. I will be more at peace to hear you then. Just a moment, I promise.” Just past the cupboard I glanced into the kitchen and saw the open dishwasher. “Oh, yeah!” The glue put back I turned to the kitchen and began to vacate the clean dishes from the dishwasher chipping one of my new plates on the side of the kitchen cabinet. “Oh, shoot!” That chore accomplished revealed an empty dishwasher and the remainder of last nights dishes on the counter and table. That would not do. After moving the dirty dishes to the dishwasher and wiping down the Formica with a Clorox cleanup towel, I remembered breakfast.

I hit the remote and the TV came on with a familiar voice exclaiming how God wanted a relationship with us. “Me, too,” I said softly. I put coffee grounds in the basket of the coffee maker and pulled some pancakes I had made a few days ago out of the freezer, popping them into the microwave. Pressing the number one on the solid key pad brought the microwave to life with a soft hum and a bright glow that lit the plate of pancakes turning around slowly inside like a miniature carousel. My tongue slid across my teeth and I realized, with disgust, I had not brushed my teeth this morning. Up the stairs I went passing the Bible again. “Hi, Jesus! You wouldn’t want me distracted by this yucky taste in my mouth now would you? Be back in a minute, I promise!”

I kissed my husband goodbye as we passed in the hallway and he headed off to work. In the bathroom I reached for the cabinet door I had just glued the tab to earlier and prayed I had not glued it shut. It came open without effort. “Thank you, Lord Jesus.” The soft bang of it closing reverberated through the bathroom and master bedroom when I let it shut by itself. I now had a fresh mouth and was ready for my first cup of coffee.

Downstairs, passing the cupboard I saw my bible again. I turned to the breakfast room table and noticed some of last night’s dinner infused into the tablecloth, evident only after the last of the dishes had been removed to the dishwasher. That will stain. The microwave was calling my attention with reminder beeps every minute to let me know that my pancakes were done. I walked to the microwave, opened the door, and moved the bottom pancake to the top, then reset the microwave for 30 seconds. It came to life and the soft hum and glow revealed the carousel turning the opposite direction.

As I removed the sugar bowl, napkins and salt and pepper containers to the counter I heard the TV preacher (a different one than before, this one a lady) shout, “GOD IS A JEALOUS GOD!” Suddenly, I felt bad and glanced at my bible, but the tablecloth had to go. Scooping it up in my arms I stuffed it into the washing machine, filled the machine with soap and turned it on. The microwave was calling again. I put the plate on the bare table, grabbed the syrup from the pantry, poured some on the plate and returned the bottle to its home. The cupboard sat next to the pantry door and on it laid my bible and the memory of a promise. “Yes, Lord, I remember.” I moved the bible to the table behind my plate and turned to the kitchen for that first cup of coffee. Between the coffee and the table I spied my pill holder where I keep my daily vitamin regimen and I placed that on the table next to my plate along with a fork. And, I had to have something to take my vitamins with because I just can’t take them with hot coffee.

I ate my breakfast, took my vitamins, and drank most of my coffee. The plate went to the dishwasher along with the fork and small drinking glass that held juice for taking my vitamins. The pill holder was returned to its home behind the microwave and I returned to the table. The TV preacher’s voice resounded, “HE DESIRES TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU!” I love listening to the various pastors on the TV and their messages, many of which have been very meaningful to me, but is it really that necessary for them to yell at their congregations and us? “ASK HIM TO DRAW YOU NEAR AND TO SHOW YOU HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU AND HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO HIM.” I grabbed the bookmark in my bible and open it to John, Chapter 18. Today’s reading covered the sacrifice Jesus Christ made for us. Had I made any sacrifices for Him lately? I couldn’t think of any. I remembered how special we all are to him. “REMEMBER HE WILL LIFT YOU UP YOU JUST HAVE TO SIT BACK AND LET HIM DO IT!” I hit the mute button on the remote.

Suddenly I had a desire to write down the thoughts running through my head. I used to keep a little journal book with my Bible for writing down inspirations I received while reading my Bible, where had I placed that book? “Lord, I can’t wait for the day I will get my act together and stop making all these stupid mistakes!” Suddenly, I felt quietness all around me, inside and out. Then slowly, from somewhere deep inside me, a place that I didn’t recognize at first, I felt…. something…something soft…a sound…no…a feeling…like…a.…a. … a chuckle! Then it grew to laughter. Suddenly, I couldn’t help laughing either. It filled me to the point of tears. “I’m so glad, Lord, I could make you laugh today.” I understood the humor, no, insanity of what I had said. I am human; it is the way God made me. I alone can never ‘get my act together’; only my willingness to allow God to change me will come close to accomplishing that. I will probably never stop making mistakes but God can use these mistakes to help me come closer to ‘getting my act together’. Suddenly the events of the morning had become fun, from that still small voice I heard, “Write it down and share.” I returned to the table with my prayer journal and began to write the story of my wonderful morning. Soon it became difficult to stay up with the story as it formed on the pages, so I began to use only every other line but I was trying to write fast and my handwriting was becoming illegible. I grabbed the journal and headed to my computer, booted it up, opened Microsoft Word and began to type my story.

It is now past noon and I remember that my Bible remains on my kitchen table open to John 18; the sword removed from the sheath, unused. Forgive me, but I have a promise to keep.

The Point at the End of My Wits

I don't know why I keep coming here. I know what I can do. I want to believe in myself. But far too often I find myself here once more, feeling lost and worthless. I don't know where to go or which direction to take. Maybe it's hypo-glycemia, I don't know. Its the reason I have difficulty staying on a diet or doing anything else. I want it now, results now. I want to be, I'm tired of becoming. Some times It's not about the journey, its about accomplishments and those seem so far apart. With every new step I feel less successful, less sure. Thank God I can't quit. Its too important to me. It means far too much to me to stop now. So I press on and ignore the feelings of defeat and brokenness inside. I move forward on my own not listening to the depression of others. Their fatigue is mirrored in me and I can't stand it anymore. God help me. Let me begin with sleep. Good night! Now, where's that sleeping pill anyway.

At The Point of Prayer

Life is not what they tell us growing up. We begin with expectations of the possibilities of a well lived life and spend our years attempting to become what we believe we can be. And despite what the world claims, it applies its energy toward making us believe our dreams are too high or we aren't really capable of fullfilling them. From the first moment we allow ourselves to dream we are fighting an uphill battle. "Put your feet on the ground!" I can remember from early on my mother telling me I could be anything I wanted to be and I believed her in my heart. As a young child I, like so many others, watched the idyllic life of Star Trek and dared to dream I could have a place in that near perfect world. So, at the age of 6, I wanted to be an astronaut, to explore space and "go where no man had gone before." Back then the local TV station ran a Saturday Morning Show called, KiTiRiK. They came up with the name by inserting an 'i' between each of the stations call letters (KTRK). The host, named 'KiTiRiK', of course, was a nice looking woman dressed in black furry leotards and a cap with black pointy cats ears. I also remember whiskers painted on her cheeks. It was a popular show for the kids of Houston Texas to come on for their birthday and I dreamed of being on the KiTiRiK Show and riding the birthday carousel. One birthday came and my mom got me and a couple of my friends on the show. I even got to ride the carousel with all the other birthday kids. The carousel would turn and stop at each child and KiTiRiK would ask each one what they wanted to be when they grew up. As I awaited my turn I rehearsed in my head over and over, "astronaut, astronaut, astronaut." When I finally reached the front and the nice lady in the cat costume asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I opened my mouth and uttered, "a nurse." Such has been my life, full of big dreams and even bigger fears.
That was a few years ago. Don't ask how many, I won't tell. But I have learned over time not to be afraid of the world around me. Well, at least not as much. I still have that small little voice telling me "I'm not good enough", "no one believes you can do that", "you aren't as smart as you think you are". . . . . and the biggest is. . . . . ."you are such a liar and they know it". The problem with all these comments is that I don't want to lie or cheat people. I want to believe that I have God given talents and capabilities. I am good enough and if no one believes me, I just need to rely on God to show them or show me what I need to change. Matthew:19:26 states, "But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." Somehow I know that God will lead me and show me the correct way to go. And while, it may not be the direction I think I should be headed, as long as I allow Him a say in it, it will be the right one.
"Thank you Lord for your devine instruction and daily measure of faith."