Hospitality

I’m glad that my ‘fellowship’ blog struck a note with some folks, including emails from a couple of people I hadn’t heard from in a while. Thank you for your feedback. It encourages me to know if what I’ve said is good food for thought; if it helps to connect even two people, I’m blessed. As our Lord has said, if there are two or more of you gathered in My name, there am I among you. In this crazy age where many of us have to rely on the computer for authentic conversation and fellowship, I believe He must be spending a lot of time holding our hands via cyberspace.

I want to say a few things now about another topic on my heart that I believe goes hand and hand with fellowship - hospitality. Like driving a team of horses, this has largely become a lost art as a result of changing times and culture. We’ve all heard the New Testament teachings about hospitality, such as Romans 12:13 telling us to share with others and practice hospitality. I’ve always gotten the impression that ‘practice’ is a very serious word in Biblical terms - it’s a lifestyle stemming from the heart. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see this as a way of life anywhere in my day-to-day.

Reading through the book of Acts, we see these people regularly gathered in each other’s homes, eating, drinking, praying, and enjoying one another’s company. They even shared their possessions and had everything in common, giving to each as had need! Having grown up in the modern western "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" culture, I can only imagine. I’ve actually had people get mad at me for offering to pay for their meal or for bringing them a gift on their birthday. In our society, many seem to have been brainwashed into thinking EVERYTHING is on a consumer basis - you only get what you pay for. No sharing allowed!

I’ve had some other frustrating experiences trying to ‘practice hospitality.’ Would you like to hear about the time we ate hot dogs and hamburgers for a week because of no-shows? Or the time our charcoal burned down to dust as we waited on our hour-late guests, who finally called to cancel? (We stuck a dozen raw burger patties in the fridge and went to Taco Bell). I’ve had my kids in tears because of careless last-minute play date cancellations and no-shows.

Some other times though, I’ve felt like I’ve really blessed someone in my home. I remember one friend from years ago who never wanted to leave. She’d kick back on my couch and say, "oh, it’s so relaxing here! I don’t want to leave!" And I didn’t want her to leave any more than she wanted to leave. Other guests have stayed to talk until the mosquitoes nearly ate us alive out in the back yard (the only place on our property that is large enough to accommodate playing children and conversing adults). The only times I really got into a lengthy and meaningful conversation with some of these people was when they came to my home to visit. If they don’t seem to want to leave, I feel like they’ve been blessed by their visit.

Good hospitality can produce such warm feelings of excitement, happiness and contentment. For instance, I still remember going to the home of my mother’s best friend each Christmas as a child. Her house was very modest, but beautifully and warmly decorated. Cinnamon-infused cider and sugar cookie smells wafted through the air as we were warmly greeted. As a shy child, her warm smile and hug meant the world to me. Then, I’d sip hot cider and eat the most delicious chili con queso and home-baked cheddar wafers as I poked around looking at her cheery living room Christmas decorations and answered her friendly inquiries as to what I’d been up to. She had the art of making me feel like the most special, cute, funny, clever person in the world. I’m sure she had a gift for making each guest who came into their home burst with good feelings about themselves.

Since becoming an adult, I’ve found such hospitality pretty hard to come by. My husband and I began a bi-annual tradition of going away together for a weekend to a bed and breakfast when our boys were old enough to stay with grandparents for a couple of days. There are two in particular that have blessed us. Good bed and breakfast owners feel like Grandmas and Grandpas. I revert from being a decades-old adult to a little kid going to Grandma’s for the weekend. Homemade cookies, warm hugs, a comfy room with a big quilt and bubble bath, a delicious breakfast, someone with a sweet smile fussing over me, and warm and caring conversation with our hosts fills the weekend. More than once as we’ve returned home, I’ve made this remark to my husband: "Wouldn’t it be nice if God someday brings us to a place in our lives when such edifying times with caring people aren’t something we usually have to pay for?"

Now, our hosts are lovely people and staying with them is worth every penny and then some. But, I daresay that there are others like us out there, who flock to the bed and breakfasts to grasp a little piece of a dream, of a time and place that is unhurried and rest for the soul. A setting where hospitality is a way of life.

The town we love to go to is a popular tourist spot. We walk the streets, admiring the beautiful antebellum homes, some large and some small. All have beautiful lawns, gorgeous flower gardens, gazebos, little ponds, tea gardens… and my favorite of all, front porches. I have the most intense feelings of nostalgia sometimes while walking there, feelings that I was just born about a hundred years too late.

I’m going to end here for now, but there will be more to come soon. Please stay tuned…

Blessings to all,
Amy

Overcoming Fear

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:18

It is interesting that this verse contrasts fear and love, instead of fear and comfort, or fear and safety, or even fear and rest. Thinking about it, I can see that most of my fears have been rooted in loss of love, or perceived loss of love.

Darin Hufford’s recent blog on treating fear as something we have a choice on caught my attention. I believe that we women really need to hear the perspective of a man, because they tend to think more logically. A common experience I’ve had as a female is getting so caught up in my emotions that I can’t think straight anymore.

Darin’s blog was timely because there is an important decision we’ve been looking at making that could greatly affect our future. I was raised in a household that was hugely fearful. It was as though we had to consult the God of Fear first for every decision we made. If fear said it had a 1 percent chance of turning out awful, we would probably decide not to do whatever it was.

I’ve been controlled by fear all too often. As a result I’ve actually ended up enduring a lot of awful things that I might have avoided if I hadn’t been afraid! I’ve also missed out on some really good things.

You’d think I’d have the pattern nailed down in my logical mind by now, and be able to catch myself and stop it by now. But I’m proud of myself that at least now I’m trying to look at things more closely before making a knee-jerk fear decision, especially on big things.

I decided to discuss my situation with Darin and tell him of my concerns. I wanted to know if it was fear (unreasonable) or just concern (wisdom). He acknowledged the importance of my concerns and advised me to plan for the possibility that they would happen. But - here’s the clincher - he said, "But letting these things stop you (from following your dream) is being controlled by them. You’re stronger than that."

His words helped me clear up my wimbling back and forth. I can make myself dizzy with "On one hand, I want this, but on the other hand, it might be impractical, scary, dangerous, uncertain, a failure, a disaster, whatever." Yeah, I’ve been a poster child for that double-minded man verse in James and I look forward to Father maturing me out of doing that.

But I can see that thinking of myself as stronger than one who lets fear be in control is a picture of myself that I have not carried. Now I know what our course is. I can see that this will be another leg of our faith journey. And I hope it does a great work to really remove fear from my heart.

I also want to add that an important reason why that I struggle with fear is the lack of having somebody believe in me during my youth. As parents, no matter what age our children, may we all get across to them that we BELIEVE in them!! That’s an important foundational ingredient to any person. It’s kind of hard to find as an adult too. (You know you’ve found a real friend when they truly believe in you, even during the hard times!)

I decided to change my screen name here to Lionwoman...because lions are known as animals of great courage and dignity. As our Heavenly Father sees us.

Blessings to all,
Amy

Fellowship

I’ve often compared human fellowship to food. To me, time spent with a true friend or even an intriguing acquaintance is like a good, satisfying, nutritious meal. Think of a nice barbecued chicken breast, baked potato with all the fixings, a big salad and a big glass of cool water to wash it all down. Then, you get a nice warm chocolate dessert of some sort with ice cream. Now, that’s living. You get things that are good and nourishing for you in this meal, plus some things that just make you feel good. You’re totally satisfied, not hungering for anything more. This, to me, is what true fellowship is like.

Unfortunately, I’ve found this type of "good meal" fellowship to be relatively rare in our society of fierce independence, over-achievement, and focus on material gain. Our culture is an absurd reversal of many third world countries I’ve read about. Over there, many people live on a very simple diet. Many children are sustained on only rice because that’s all they have. Others may be lucky and also have millet or corn. Women feed their children on $2 a week. Yet when you see photos of these people in these places, there are always groups of people TOGETHER. They sit together, they lean against each other. Children are photographed sitting in a circle laughing or playing together. Women sit in a circle grinding grain or weaving while they talk. Men work the fields in groups. They live in overcrowded dilapidated houses and huts together. When illness strikes they care for each other until there are no healthy left to care for the sick. Sometimes, they lie down and die together.

Here in the U.S., most of us are overfed and many are overweight. We are more obsessed with healthy diets and weight monitoring than any other country, yet we are dying of eating-related disorders at an alarming rate. We have far more food to gorge ourselves on than is good for us and many of us have the love handles to prove it. Yet, as a culture we’re the poster children for emaciated, starving people in the spiritual and emotional realm.

I’ve spent a lot of time with my ear to the ground over the last few years and realized that though most people are hard-pressed to see or admit it, the average person is lucky if they have even one or two real friends. We know lots of people and call many of them friends, but in reality they’re just people we’re busy with.

I’ve always thought of these "busy-buddies" as cheese and crackers. Now, there’s nothing wrong with cheese and crackers, but if that’s all you ever eat, you aren’t truly being nourished. You can eat them until you don’t want anymore, and perhaps feel a little sick from all you’ve eaten. But you’re not satisfied. You want something more. You feel lethargic because you’re stuffed with something that hasn’t given you true nourishment. You didn’t really enjoy them all that much while you were eating them, but you were hungry and that’s all there was, so you ate and now you’re glutted but not fulfilled.

A snack is a snack. Light and shallow acquaintances are like snacks. Some are the yucky pre-packaged, God-only-knows-what’s-in-them orange crackers with quasi-peanut butter. These are not only not nourishing but downright bad for you. I’ve had some acquaintances and even ‘friends’ like this.

Other cheese and crackers may be good quality stuff. These are nice people you may know in the neighborhood, in the church, or in the book club. You chat pleasantly with them when you see them. Sometimes, you pursue a deeper relationship with them only to find out they don’t have time for real friends because of all the hustle-n-bustle in their lives. Nice people or no, activity and accomplishment will always take precedence over real relationship for them. You hoped it would turn out to be a real meal, but they remain cheese and crackers.

Sometimes I’ve come to a point in life where I wonder, "is it better to just go hungry than have another cheese and cracker snack?" At times I’ve glutted myself on "cheese and crackers" (including the stale vending-machine variety) until now when I’ve come to the point where I feel I’d rather starve than ever touch them again.

Perhaps Father has a design behind this dilemna? I’ve read the verses in the Bible. "Come and eat, and be satisfied." And thought, what IS he talking about? I go to church and I’m not satisfied. I participate in programs, activities and "home groups" and I’m not satisfied. We’ve been promised by institutional church that these things bring life, yet they don’t. Why does IC harp so much on fellowship? Could it be that they have accepted human fellowship as a substitute for true fellowship with God?

I’m going through a time where I’m struggling with whether I’ll starve if I really go hungry. I realize I’ve lived as though I’ll starve if I don’t eat these vending-machine cheese and crackers. I hope Father is getting me much closer to the point that I really am courageous enough to go hungry for however long I must. Maybe we have to be REALLY hungry, to have a cavernous hole in our stomach to be able to hold Him and all He wants to give us.

A Redneck Joke with a Lesson

There’s another favorite redneck joke of mine that goes as follows:

Cyril wasn’t known for being the brightest boy in town. Darryl decided to try to help his little brother one day to become smarter so he gave him a handful of small brown things.

"These are smart pills, runt. Now, eat ‘em up." Cyril ate ‘em up. "Now I’m gonna give you some more tomorrow, and keep givin’ you some every day. You gotta take ‘em a while ‘fore you start feelin’ smarter."

Darryl gave his little brother Cyril some more of the smart pills every day, doubling the dosage each time. Cyril would chew his way through patiently each time, but as time went on, he started to dislike the bad taste in his mouth after he’d eaten them. He told his brother about the bad taste, but Darryl always said, "That’s in your head, boy. These are smart pills. Now keep eatin’ ‘em, and one day you’ll git smart!"

So Cyril kept doing his darndest to eat every single pill he was given. His chewing became slower and slower as his facial expression revealed more and more how distasteful he found the pills. His stomach churned after he ate them and he wondered why he wasn’t getting any smarter, just feeling frustrated at how dumb he still felt and queasy besides. Finally one day when Darryl tried to give Cyril his daily dose, Cyril declared, "Maaaan, these here smart pills taste like goat turds! I ain’t eatin’ no more of these thangs!"

Darryl heartily thumped his brother on the back as he declared gleefully, "NOW you’re gettin’ smarter, little brother, NOW you’re gettin’ smarter!"

***

Funny and crass though this old joke is, there are some ironic parallels I see in this to my experience in institutional church. I also ‘ate’ whatever I was given. I was told if I came often enough and ‘ate’ enough of what they served up, I’d sooner or later turn into a model Christian.

While my experience wasn’t as much of a total scam as poor Cyril’s, I will say that I feel like I ate enough ‘turds’ at institutional church that it was making me sick both spiritually and emotionally. When I shared these feelings with other members or leaders, they told me it must be because of doubt, unbelief, unconfessed sin, etc. and I needed to have a ‘deliverance’ of some sort. I should read this book or do that Bible study, come to church more often, and find an accountability partner. If I kept eating their food, sooner or later it was bound to do the job they promised it would.

Finally we walked out. It wasn’t working. I had realized, "This is not doing what they said it would do. I feel worse instead of better. I just can’t do it anymore." I don’t think Father would ever laugh at me, but perhaps he was a bit like Darryl in saying, "Now you’re getting somewhere, my daughter, now you’re getting somewhere."

Redneck Jokes for the Week

On the lighter side of things, here are a few that made me guffaw:

You might be a redneck if:

-Down where you come from reruns of Hee Haw are called documentaries.

-You've been on TV more than 5 times describing the sound of a tornado.

-You think the OJ trial was a taste test between Sunkist and Minute Maid.

-You were acquitted for murdering your first wife after she threw out your Elvis 8-tracks.

-You had to remove a toothpick for your wedding pictures.

Bear the Dog

Bear is our black laborador retriever. She died on Thursday, June 26. But I still find myself referring to her in the present tense many times, because I am trying to learn to see things from an eternal perspective. Time is irrelevant to many things in the spiritual realm.

We first learned of Bear through an on-line ad that said an elderly couple in poor health needed a new home for their 10 month old black lab. We had finally settled into our country home, winter was past, and it was time to realize a long-awaited dream: to get a family dog.

Knowing that cuddly little puppies are quickly snapped up by eager new owners, we decided to start with an older dog that might not so easily find a home, but not an adult dog who might not take a liking to our rambunctious 3 year old. So I know Bear had our name on her, written by our Father. When we arrived at the listed address, Bear was sleeping on the porch of a tiny, run down house surrounded by a yard so small it could hardly be called a yard. When we got out of the car, she woke up and ran to the fence, wagging her tail and barking hello. We all fell in love on the spot.

Bear weighed about 65 pounds when we got her and continued gaining a pound a week for most of the time she was here on earth with us. As big as she was, she never lost those big round puppy eyes. You could say Bear is very boisterous. She knocked my three year old daughter flat on the ground every time she went out the door for the first couple of weeks. By the end of the third week my daughter was lying across Bear’s back, singing to her or sharing a cookie with her. Bear quickly bonded to all of us and learned good dog behavior in a short time, though her eagerness didn’t always permit her to exercise what she knows.

A couple of weeks later we unexpectedly found ourselves the proud family of two other puppies (that story another time). Bear happily took charge as the young ‘mother’ of the two younger pups and the dominant dog among the three. Strider and Ranger took their cues from Bear. Soon, the three of them could be seen splashing in the creek, then rolling in the dirt, then jumping on the nearest available human with the cleanest clothes on. The mail carrier learned to slow down as she approached our box, knowing that Bear would run to greet her. She also learned to roll up her truck window when she stopped to deliver our mail, since Bear was more than eager to hop through it and help her with the rest of the afternoon’s mail.

Bear chewed through several pairs of shoes, a couple of lawn chairs, a set of practice golf balls, a couple of shirts, and a copy of "He Loves Me" by Wayne Jacobsen, among other things. She eagerly ate apples, carrots, celery and cucumbers. She loved it when I picked her a handful of blackberries and fed them to her. I’d never heard of a dog with such vegetarian tastes, but Bear seemed eager to share in everything we did, including what we ate.

One of my favorite memories of her is the way she’d hop up in my lap, all 70 plus pounds, as if she were a little lap dog, and throw her head over my shoulder as I hugged and talked to her. She was like a dog version of Baby Huey, a giant baby just wanting endless love and attention.

The morning that she died, she seemed fine all the way up to the time when we found her dead. My last memory of her was having her come barreling up to me as I walked up from the mailbox. She had rolled in something smelly the night before, and she was all wet from the rain, so I pushed her down when she jumped on me. I told her to ‘sit’ and she did. I patted her head, and she trotted off. Half an hour later we found her dead.

Father is slowly but surely growing faith in me. I would have kicked myself for pushing her down a few years ago. I would have been mad at myself for losing the "last chance" to love on her with a big hug. But now, I think that that was one small moment in time. I think Father will redeem all things that hurt us in our hearts. I know that my Father who notices when a single sparrow falls, remembers us with great concern when our pets die.

The vet said she died of an aneurysm, which is unusual but not unheard of in dogs. We brought her body home, and lovingly buried her beneath a tall oak tree at the edge of our woods. We cried as we shoveled dirt over our young dog’s body. But we smiled as we stood by the new grave, remembering how Bear loved to gobble blackberries by the handful as offered to her. We laughed and shook our heads as we remembered how she would knock a person and their chair over wanting to be a "baby lap dog" at 70 something pounds. We cried some more, and laughed some more. We cried because we miss her and we know we won’t see her again for a while. We laughed because we know Father loves her, and we are picturing our Bear playing with other animals romping in the heavenly realms.

I am not here to present a case for animals in heaven or not. Like with many things, people can and will interpret Scripture to say whatever they want it to, according to what is already in their hearts. When I see my heavenly Father face to face, if I’m wrong and animals are not in heaven, I don’t think he’s going to cluck and point the finger at me for believing such a thing. People who dedicate their time to arguing for the doctrine of "no animals in heaven" just irritate me. It’s not love to take a grieving animal lover who has lost a pet, and shove their face in "no animals allowed" doctrine and call it love. As with countless other examples, people who would do this value being "RIGHT" over being LOVING.

The idea of being in heaven with so many people everywhere, especially those who made a career out of being "RIGHT" about everything, just makes me nervous by itself (remember, I’m an introvert). The idea of no animals on top of that, just makes me depressed. It sounds a step better than hell, of course. But, then we are back to the core of Christianity. Is escaping hell what it’s all about? Or, getting in touch with our heart’s deepest cries and having them answered by our Father?

On that note, I am giving myself permission to be me. I am an animal lover who hopes to be surrounded by animals as well as people in heaven. And I hope Bear is the first one of them to knock me down with puppy eagerness as I walk in through the gates.

Time for a few redneck jokes

I decided it would be good to have a lighter side to my blog too. So, you will find some funny jokes and anecdotes interspersed with the "deep thoughts" posts. I am a lifelong Texan, and if you read my June 26 post you know that I have finally realized a lifelong dream of living in the country. Here in rural Texas, redneck jokes are especially common. I think it’s good for all of us to be able to laugh at ourselves (I think all of us Texans see ourselves in at least a few of them!)I think most of them can be attributed to Jeff Foxworthy, but there are a few I haven't heard from him.
Anyway, here are a few for today:

You might be a redneck if:
- Your wife can climb a tree faster than your cat.
- You pack in Wal Mart shopping bags to move or go on vacation (me!!).
- Your grandmother has "ammo" on her Christmas list.
- You keep flea and tick soap in the shower.
- You've been involved in a custody fight over a hunting dog.
- You have a complete set of salad bowls that say "Cool Whip" on the side.

(slap overall-clad knees and guffaw with laughter!! LOL)
Have a great day everyone!