Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!

Hallelujah!

Forgive me for not blogging for a whole week!  Life got too busy with other things taking priority.  I hope everyone had a blessed Easter.  We had a lovely Easter weekend with a visit to Ted’s folks on Saturday and with mine on Sunday.

Today I tried to play catch-up.  There were errands to run and ‘stuff’ to take care of.  One ‘stuff’ I had to do was to get Amanda and make a visit to the local social security office.

(sigh)

Amanda gets social security income because she is permanently disabled.  It basically pays her rent and electric bill.  A week ago I got a mildly threatening letter that told me to come to the social security office OR ELSE her benefits would have to be terminated.  Ya gotta love government programs.  And I really do think that society has an obligation to take care of some of us – like Amanda.  But too many people get caught up in the government assistance programs and learn to ride for a long time.  Government needs to give assistance and then help people become self-sufficient and successful so they can stop being dependent.  But because there are those people that take advantage of the government assistance to the point of abuse, I understand that everyone must be screened and checked up on so that the system is not being abused and robbed.  Enough of my soapbox speech … getting back to Amanda.

When we got to the social security office, we had to check in with a computer and take a number.  It wasn’t a simple first come, first serve, with numbers in order like 24 – 25 – 26 – 27 – 28.  You were M217 or R125 or K247.  They were calling several rolls of numbers all with a different letter as prefix.  The place was packed with almost every seat taken.  I opted to stand but was told by the security guard present that I HAD to sit down.  Everyone who came in after me HAD to sit.  Were they worried about us striking out with a kick or a punch?  Were they simply being considerate and making sure we sat before our long time standing resulted in our passing out?  Or was it to simply keep us lower, and subordinate?  When a gentleman who was told to sit down took his seat next to mine, I looked at him and joked, “Oh, good, you look much less threatening sitting down!”  The room was also freezing cold (the government must have neglected to pay the gas bill) although we were treated to a TV on the wall in front of us.  It was permanently tuned to SSTV.  Wow.  Social Security Television.  (yawn)  And we also had no choice but to sit, bored and shivering, in very uniform rows.  The chairs were all zip tied together so that the rows could not be rearranged.

Forty-five minutes after entering, our number was called.  We went up to window “C” and had to explain why we were there.  The girl clattered some stuff on her computer keyboard and told me I could sit down (again) until they called my name.  After another half an hour they called my name and said to go to window number twelve, down the hall.

Have you seen the movie “Beetlejuice”?  “Beetlejuice” is a 1988 American comedy horror fantasy film about a recently deceased young couple who become ghosts haunting their former home.  They spend some time in the netherworld where they have to meet with their caseworker, Juno.  It’s kind of creepy in the netherworld and there is a scene where the young couple meanders along a hallway as they look for the office they are to first meet with their caseworker.  It looked like this:

 

That’s how I felt as I made my way down the hall to window number twelve.  It was a long endless hallway with numbered windows, each with exactly two chairs in front (with the chair legs zip tied together).

Long story short, Amanda and I had our little interview and Amanda will continue to get her SSI check.  But the whole experience left us feeling so de-moralized and degraded.  The questions made us feel like we were trying to hide something and I did not care for the patronizing smirks as I was made to feel ignorant and lower class.  Both Amanda and I felt really depressed as we left the social security office.  It felt awful.  After freezing while being strongly encouraged to sit in one of many straight rows of chairs, then waiting and waiting only to wait again, and finally being spoken to albeit not so respectfully – it made me very sad and discouraged at the whole social security program and any and all government programs our current administration has in store for us.  I won’t dwell on it because Amanda is pretty much set right now and we won’t have to pay a visit for a while.  But my sympathies go out to those who must endure visits to the social security office.

So to turn this around in order to look at the positive I once again look at our great Lord and Savior.  When we present ourselves before Him, we are welcomed and loved, no matter what wrongs we have done.  His mercy and grace is abundant as He builds us up.  He does not make us wait.  He does not tear us down.

Psalm 3:3 But you, O Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

Christ is risen.  He is risen indeed.   Happy Easter!

Just Laurel

I have this thing against restaurants that serve food buffet style.  You know what I’m talking about.  The all-you-can-eat buffet where people stuff their faces to get their money’s worth of food.  They have a lot of them in this part of Michigan.  I refer to them as restaurants with feeding troughs.  The food is almost always sub-standard or simply ordinary.  All of it usually ends up tasting pretty much the same, too.  A nicer way to refer to them is “Smorgasbord”.  Now there’s a fun word.  It’s from the Swedish Smörgåsbord and it refers to a type of Scandinavian meal served buffet-style with multiple cold dishes of various foods on a table.  I suppose when you are trying to feed and please a large group of people then it can be a handy thing to serve many foods.  The Swedish Smorgasbord might be interesting as it might offer new and tasty dishes I haven’t yet tried.  But the American Smorgasbord, aka the Buffet…yuck.  As I have already stated, not only do I find the food to be of lower quality, I tend to eat (when and if I DO have to eat at one) too much of it and I end up feeling bloated and sick.  Heaven knows I see plenty of people walk out of those feeding troughs … errr … I mean buffets who have obviously filled up way too many times.

I would much rather sit down to a meal of quality.  Perhaps a piece of fish that is fresh and cooked to perfection with a fresh vegetable of some kind.  Really, any kind of homemade meal that has been made from scratch and offers quality food that has been cooked with care is better than any buffet.  Basically, I would choose quality of food over quantity any time.

The other day, I felt like my life was in buffet mode.  I have my hands into so many things right now that I feel like I am just getting by with the ordinary basics of life and not producing any quality.  I am busy with a little bit of church, a sprinkling of singing (at church), a dash of looking-after-Amanda, a good cupful of working at the Surgical Center, a smidgen of selling stuff on ebay, a bunch of cleaning out for the April garage sale, an ounce of trying to keep the house clean, a pint of attention to my husband, and a teaspoon and tablespoon of many more ingredients.  And I don’t like buffets!  Everything is just ‘okay.’  I would really like to cut out some of those many ingredients in my life and really season and prepare a few select ingredients to perfection!

Ah well.  At least everyone is happy and getting fed right now – thanks to Laurel’s buffet she is serving up!  I came across this verse in Proverbs as I was searching for verses about eating and gluttony:

Proverbs 25:16 If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, or else, having too much, you will vomit it.

Haha!  I love it.  Such good advice.

I hope the future will bring me many gourmet meals and I can stop wallowing in the feeding trough – err I mean – the buffet!  Or else I will vomit it!

Just Laurel

Dinner tonight was pure vegetarian.  Ted and I are not vegetarians but simply enjoy meatless meals as much as ones with meat.  Tonight we were to each have a big fat baked potato, roasted broccoli, and Asian slaw with cabbage, carrots and almonds.  We were hungry and anxious to eat.  It had been a long work day for both of us.  I microwaved our potatoes tonight to save time.  I was first to get my potato on my plate and eager to split it open so I could top it with some butter and cheese.  As I smashed the potato open and the brown skin broke away, my potato was … well … it was green!  Not just a spot of green – it was all over green.  It was darker green near the surface but still green tinged as I dug deeper.  Ted showed up and I pointed out my green potato, but I was so hungry I decided to eat it anyways.  It smelled normal and the bit I tested tasted normal.  But I happened to say to Ted that I once had read that you shouldn’t eat green potatoes.  Ted broke into his potato, and his was green too!  “Well let’s find out for real” he replied, referring to getting to the truth about green potatoes.  He did a search on the internet and sure enough – you shouldn’t eat green potatoes!  Basically, the green is a build-up of chlorophyll which then produces a substance that is toxic and can make you sick to your stomach.  Large amounts can cause paralysis of the central nervous system and one website spoke of it being a carcinogen.  Read it for yourself at snopes.com:  http://www.snopes.com/food/ingredient/potato.asp

The potatoes got trashed.

I couldn’t believe how my lovely spuds with their brown jackets had hidden green flesh inside.  I just didn’t see it.  The green was hidden beneath the surface.

Ahhh … of course I can relate this to real-life!

How many of us go to work, or to a friend’s house, or to church and put on this perfectly lovely façade when underneath, we are really not-so-good?  We’ve all done it.  We might be feeling ill, we might be angry at our spouse, we might be trying to hide how tired we are, or we might be sad or upset over something.  But then we put on a happy face to pretend that everything is alright.  Inside, we are not alright.  I guess the good news here is that just when we are thinking that no one understands or knows how we feel, we must remember that God knows.

Psalm 38:9 O Lord, all my longing is known to you; my sighing is not hidden from you.

I love the wording of this Psalm – ‘my SIGHing is not hidden from you.’

<sigh>

The other thing to keep in mind is that if we often spend our days hiding the brokenness beneath a happy facade, then others must be doing it too.  If someone else treats you in a mean, impatient, angry, or indifferent way they just may be hurting inside over something.  They are hiding their pain beneath a false coat of contentment.   Hopefully God can give us the eyes to see when others are like this so that we can show some compassion.

Here’s hoping that we all have happy exterior coats that are not hiding toxic green interiors!  But if your insides are hurting – you aren’t keeping it hidden from God!  You better talk to Him.

And be on the look-out for the green spuds out there – people who are hiding beneath their own false exteriors – maybe you can lend a hand.

And don’t eat green potatoes.

just Laurel

Forgive me readers but I never got back to you about my gluten free bread experiment.  The bread was… weird.  It didn’t rise much although it did have bubbles and holes in the texture.  It was very yellow in color – probably due to the two eggs and the yellow from the yolks.  Those eggs also made it taste pretty, well, egg-y.  It was strange and not your typical bread.  Ted ate it with no complaints.  (There is little he won’t eat.)  And I gave a loaf to my gluten-free neighbor with apologies about how it might not taste very well.  She loved it – and toasted it for breakfast.  (Ahh … maybe toasting it would make it taste better!)  It made me appreciate how difficult it must be for people on a gluten free diet to find baked goods that are palatable.  And I won’t give up.  I shall happily attempt baking gluten-free again.  I have to give it a second chance.

Speaking of second chances, I gave good ‘ole quinoa another chance today.  For those of you who don’t know what quinoa is (pronounced KEEN-wah) it is usually considered to be a whole grain, but is actually a seed that can be prepared like whole grains such as rice or barley.  It is tiny and round and known for its high source of protein and amino acids.  (It is also gluten-free.)  Many years ago I tried cooking quinoa.  It was gross!  I did not like the taste at all.  Nasty.  Thanks to the pantry fairy I mentioned once upon a time in another blog, I became the owner of a bag of organic quinoa.  Today I gave it another chance and cooked a cup of it.  Then I added chopped colorful mini-peppers, raisins, fresh parsley, chopped pecans, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, turmeric, and a dash of cayenne and – it is simply delicious!  I have more quinoa in the pantry bag so it shall be cooked and used again.  A successful second chance!

As I made my way through the day, I happened to send Amanda a jibjab card that featured her as the Easter Bunny.  I posted it on her Facebook page so she could see herself and have a giggle.  Now for those of you who have read, Amanda, Perfectly Made, you know how   Amanda is absolutely terrified of the Easter Bunny and her reaction to just seeing someone dressed up like the Easter Bunny is to PUKE.  I told Amanda that I know how much she LOVES the Easter Bunny so that I made her one.  She told me she liked the card – that it was cute – but that (and I quote) “It DOESN’T change the way I feel about seeing one.”  I guess we don’t have any second chance here with her making friends with the Easter Bunny. (Here’s the link to the card in case you want to view it:  http://www.jibjab.com/view/SXZjuPwUTdp0sKfctBXn )

Thank goodness for second chances.  They give us a chance to get better at something, to try again, to find out we like something, or to reaffirm a dislike.  We also have the chance every day and every minute to stand sinless before God.  We can botch things up and totally fail, only to ask forgiveness and have the slate wiped clean.  Thank goodness God gives us second chances.  And third … and fourth … and fifth …. His mercies endure forever.

Just Laurel

My husband Ted snores.  I think many of you know this fact already because I may have mentioned it before.  He had a sleep study done and now sleeps with a bi-pap machine so he can sleep better and more quietly.  If he falls asleep on the couch, however, he does not have his bi-pap on.  And he snores.   Sometimes very loudly.  Ted works hard and many times does not get enough sleep, so when this happens in the early evening I try to ignore it and let him get his little nap.  Even though the noise of his snoring makes my shoulders rise up and I want to muzzle the poor guy, I try to leave the room – and leave the noise behind.  The other night his snoring was SO LOUD that I grabbed his phone and turned on the video camera to record about three minutes of his sawing, snorting snore sounds.  I wanted him to hear what I hear.   After Ted woke up, I told him that I captured the moment of his snoring concerto on video.  Later, I saw him intently listening to himself in snoring action.  He was very quiet and almost in awe at what he heard.  He had always listened to me comment on his horrendous snoring and this was the first time he actually heard it for himself.

Sometimes people don’t listen.  Well, they think they are listening but they don’t really hear what is being said.  So many times I find that people just like to talk and talk – and even when I ask a question or put in my own two cents to the conversation, they still keep babbling without acknowledging in any way whatsoever that they heard me.

Hearing problems can sometimes be the reason you aren’t heard.  I have to laugh, though, when people who haven’t really heard what I say decide to answer it like they have heard.   Many times the answer is so inappropriate to the question.  Like when you tell Grandma over lunch how “After lunch I need to run to the store,” and she replies, “Oh sure – you want some more?”

People are sometimes just too busy to listen.  I have learned through the years to not share interesting news with Ted if he is preoccupied with the computer screen in front of him.  I will get a “Uh-huh” from him to acknowledge that he heard me talking, but he didn’t really HEAR what I said.

Psalm 4:3  But know that the Lord has set apart the faithful for himself; the Lord hears when I call to him.

Thank goodness God hears us.  He is always listening.  Even when we yell at Him – He hears.  I’ve even had times when I have no words to describe my anguish and I look to Him and say simply, “You know my heart, Lord.”  He never misinterprets.  He knows.  And he’s never too busy to listen.

He knows my name
He knows my every thought,
He sees each tear that falls
and hears me when I call.
(lyrics from the song ‘He Knows My Name’)

Just Laurel

(written for Judy B. – God hears you.  1 John 5:14 If we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.
Prayers for you for strength.  Love you.)

What flavor are you?

On my way home from work the other day I was speaking to Ted on the phone.  He was asking me how my day at work had been.  My day had lasted longer than usual, I explained to him.  At work there is usually one doctor operating out of two operating rooms, working first in one room, and then the other.  On this particular day we happened to have two doctors working.  When doctor number one was done with all their patients, we switch gears and started over with doctor number two.  The day lasted longer than usual.  The way I described my day to Ted came out like this, “The day was good.  Long.  We had two different doctors today.  The first one was the cranky mean doctor and the second was the lady doctor who is so sweet.  So we had two different flavors today.”  I don’t know why it came out that way – describing the two different personalities as flavors.  But that seemed to fit.  One was sweet, and the other sour.  One was pleasant, and the other left a bad taste in your mouth.

In the middle of that same work day, I had questioned a co-worker who had to work physically close with doctor number one, about how she felt working for Dr. Cranky Pants.  She answered me that she often goes to bed at night, thinking about what her next work day will be like.  She felt bad, she continued to tell me, that she was not too excited about coming to work when she recalled the doctor she would be working with.  She felt bad about thinking that way, but commented about how SHE would feel if someone else was thinking that same way about working with HER.  Wouldn’t that be sad and horrible if you knew that people were not too eager to have to be around you?

So still on the same work day, another co-worker whom I work with only perhaps once a week, was being silly and referred to ME in a comment to another employee when she said, “Well, I’m not like Laurel over there all quiet and reserved.”  She was being sincere.  I laughed and told her that I was actually many faceted and the other sides of Laurel were simply not reflected in the work place!  I must say, it was nice to be referred to as “quiet and reserved” and not “mean and cranky.”  But the whole day’s events had me seriously considering this whole issue of ‘how others see me.’  When I was a young mother, did others see a good mom or a bad mom?  Am I someone that others like to work with?  Am I perceived as nice or not-so-nice?  Do people choose another pew at church to avoid sitting with me?

Ultimately, a person could go bonkers if they worried about pleasing everyone they came in contact with.  And even more ultimately, the only one we really have to please in the end is God.  <gulp>

Doctor number one the other day was definitely the sourest flavor of lemon:  bitter and causing one’s face to scrunch up.  Doctor number two was peach pie.  She was warm and sweet, and just happy and something you wanted.  She made us all smile.  I want to be vanilla flavored.  I love vanilla ice cream.  Such a pure flavor – all creamy and, well, vanilla-y.  Of course I like to change it up – top me with raspberry sauce some days.  And on other days I am full of chocolate chip cookie dough.  So I have a good base of vanilla cream – but I like to change it up to fit the circumstances!

Do you know different flavored people?  Life certainly is full of a menu of different people!

I hope God likes vanilla

just Laurel

As Easter draws near, the Peeps have become part of our lives. You do know what I’m talking about? Peeps! Those lovely little sugar coated marshmallow animal shaped candies that used to only appear at Easter. Used to be they were exclusively bright yellow and shaped liked chicks. Now they have bunny shapes and have added bright pink, blue, and purple sugar coatings. Our family loves Peeps. My daughter Jillian learned a long time ago how marvelous it is to microwave your Peeps. Place one or two in a mug or bowl, and microwave it on high. Watch it while it ‘nukes’ and you will see it swell, expand, and plump up to such great volume that it will ooze over the edge of the cup or bowl with marshmallow goodness dripping everywhere. Grab a spoon and enjoy. My husband Ted prefers his Peeps another way. He will take off the plastic wrapping on the Peeps package and set the opened package out in the open so the marshmallow dries out. We prefer the bunny shapes for this process because they are of equal thickness, unlike the chicks that are thick in the middle. If you wait several days, the soft marshmallow bunny dries up so that when you eat the Peep, it is drier but chewier. Delicious! We have had a challenge around her with being patient enough to wait for our Peeps on the counter to dry and age properly. The solution? Out of sight, out of mind: Ted has been putting the unwrapped Peeps packages in the cupboards behind cupboard doors. The joke around here now is that as he and I take turns at opening the cupboard for a plate or cup, we each check the bunny stock. Some mornings, I have to report to Ted that, “Some bunnies went missing last night!” We have the same problem with our peanut butter jar as it always seems to lose volume by the spoonful.

I had to find a way to talk about Peeps and relate it to our lives and here’s what I see. The talents and gifts we get from God are like sugary treats – Peeps! Once we recognize the gift we have, whether it is singing, teaching, painting, preaching, or building, comforting, listening, or giving, it is up to us how we use it. If we hide our gift away in a cupboard, it may just tend to dry up. It’s in the dark where few will see. It is not shared. It shrivels and loses it freshness. It is not of much use to anyone, save for the person who may sneak a taste of it once in a while. But if we put our gift out where it can be seen, maybe use it and warm it up – then it will expand and grow! If we share that talent or gift we are given then our cup will runneth over with sweet stuff and spread.

I know – it is kind of a long shot trying to relate Peeps to our gifts or talents. But it is Peeps season and I had to share the family ‘recipes.’ Do you like your Peeps dried out? And if you have never microwaved them before, I bet you’re going to try it now!

Peeps.

Sweet.

Romans 12:4-8 For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness.

just Laurel

How many of your started reading yesterday’s blog and assumed I was initially writing about Amanda and not my washing machine? My daughter Jillian called me immediately after it was posted and after I cheerfully answered the phone with a “Hello!” she asked, “Are you okay?” I told her I was fine. She asked how Amanda was. I told her she was fine. “But your blog,” she replied. “Did you read my WHOLE blog?” I asked her. “Yes. Well I skimmed through it,” she said. “Read the WHOLE thing,” I repeated. I hadn’t intended for the blog to be a “gotcha” but I got her. And I guess I got her husband Andy as well. Yeah, and I guess I got some of my readers, too. Sorry. But I never mentioned Amanda’s name, did I? Folks, you must never assume.
It’s funny how we act and react to unplanned for and sudden shocking news or situations. Do you panic and fall apart? Are you calm and composed?
I got tested today. Twice. My last patient of the day came through his surgery without a hitch. He drank two juices and was already sitting up in a chair as his wife went to pull the car around. I was taking a final blood pressure on him and preparing to take out his IV when he suddenly became unresponsive and his eyes rolled back. “Oh this isn’t good,” I said to myself. Everyone around me was cleaning up and getting ready to go home. I called for the head nurse but she didn’t hear me. With a calm but firm voice I called out, “I need some help here.” Our anesthesiologist came right over and he and another guy lifted the patient immediately to the gurney/bed he had been on. I explained what I had observed and then everyone went into action. “Where’s his IV?” the anesthesiologist asked. “In his right hand,” I replied while thanking my lucky stars that I had not yet removed it. Oxygen was put on, fluids started through his IV and some medication to bring up his blood pressure was given. I realized that my role was record-keeper and calmly got a paper towel, and started writing. Everything that was done with the time it happened, and every blood pressure that was taken was written on my paper towel. I wrote every vital statistic and procedure that was done while monitoring my patients vital signs. The patient ended up coming around and we transferred him to the hospital for further testing, just to be sure. This was the first time at this job that I had been part of an emergency. I always wondered how I would react. I pleasantly surprised myself at how I kept calm and level-headed as I watched and recorded everything that transpired throughout the little emergency.
After work, we had a scheduled meeting with our staff, and then I had to finish up all the paperwork that is demanded of for such an emergency like we had. I was complimented on the thorough and complete report that I wrote up and submitted. Tired and a little adrenaline-drained, I headed home. As soon as I walked in the door my daughter Jillian is texting me, asking if I could get on the computer right away. “Oh dear now what?” I asked myself. She had sent me a copy of her current test scores (FYI if you don’t know – she is in vet school) and there was a 47% failing test score with her note that said, “I don’t know if I am going to pass this semester.” She’d been getting A’s all along. I was so tired from my crazy morning at work and could not understand this grade. I messaged her something about her checking with other students and the professor. Laughing, she replied “the grades were recorded wrong and they forgot to double some number” – she really got a 68 out of 72. I called her a bad name. She got me. I was just a little too weary to handle her news – which fortunately turned out to be a joke on her part. After my panicking her with last night’s blog, I guess we were even.
Of course, all that had happened made Laurel think.
Would I be prepared to defend my faith, if I ever had to? We prepare for all sorts of situations in our lives: As students, we must study for tests and quizzes if we want a good grade. As craftsmen, years of practice makes us good at our craft. Speeches must be rehearsed. An attorney gets better with the more cases they defend. Medical people train to be prepared for when a patient stops breathing. Teachers prepare lesson plans. If I were suddenly put to the test to defend my faith, would I deny it like Peter did when he was under pressure? Or will all the years of church and bible study prepare me? I hope I can stand strong and faithful. I hope I am prepared.
Colossians 1:10-12 … so that you may lead lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God. May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.
just Laurel

Who’s in control?

And who is making the decisions? Whose opinion counts? Who will you listen to? How much control will you give up?

The other day at the hospital while visiting my dad, this issue of ‘control’ made itself known to me. In the middle of the whole complex tangled web of influential people was my Pop. Here was an eight-four year old man who had entered the hospital in fairly good physical condition with a pretty good mind as well. A week post-op from heart surgery and now needing some time to recuperate had reduced him to a weak example of his former self. Everyone was telling him what to do: “You can’t cross your legs, Paul.” “Do not get up from the chair without calling for help.” “You must stay in bed.” “When you go home you mustn’t do this … and you must do that …” Blah, blah, blah. I could see that my dad was tired of everyone telling him what he could and could not do. The nurse kept her piece of control over the meds she passed to him, the doctor had control over all orders, the physical therapist added their two cents, my mom kept reminding Pop of what she was told to remind him what to do and not do, and then his daughter chimed in every so often.

It really made me see how significant ‘control’ was in a relationship. In parent-child relationships there is always a control tug-of-war starting with the demands of typical two-year olds who try to rule by tantrum all the way up to a teenager learning to take responsibility and gradually taking control of more and more areas of their life. There are levels of control at work places as well. An employee can only do what they are assigned in their jobs and they know when a problem or decision must be handed up to the boss above them.

In our house, my daughter Amanda struggled to take some control over her life. As a handicapped and dependent person, there is little she can do totally by herself. Every little thing she CAN do counts a lot to her. I felt sorry for my dad as all these people around him were calling the shots and telling him what to do while he sat in his chair and with no control. He was too weak to fire back at all of us so reluctantly played the part of obedient patient.

Today we brought Pop home from the hospital. My brother came into town to help. As we drove away from the hospital and home, I was the driver and my brother rode shotgun. Mom and Pop sat in the back seat. I got to drive because I was familiar with the area (my brother is from Ohio) and Pop could not have the front seat because if an airbag went off it would hurt his chest. It made me think of all the years growing up where my Pop was the driver with my mom seated next to him and my brother and me in the back seat. How strange it felt to see control shift full circle.

I suppose the balance of control will always be a fluctuating force in anyone’s life. Control will be given or taken as needs are fulfilled or a new change in circumstances causes all things to shift and finally reach a point of homeostasis.

So, of course I was just thinking.

Do we play this control tug-of-war with God? Do we give up to God all areas of our lives, except those we still want to control? Have we handed it all over to Him like we should? Do we give Him control when we don’t want control but grab it back when we do? Like: My life is Yours Lord, but I cannot sing in the church choir because Thursdays are my night to go to the bar with my work friends so I couldn’t possibly make rehearsal – and don’t forget that I have to miss church once in a while so I can sleep in on Sundays – and I simply cannot witness to my work friends, but I will be glad to talk about you at my church bowling league.

Yeah, it made really think about who is in control. You too?

just Laurel