Not Much Happening?

"What's happening?"
"What did you do today?"

Even if one is quite busy, he may answer not much simply because life becomes routine--as in same old same old.

Well, this morning while sitting at my kitchen table in the quiet, I thought about the "not much happening" phrase and I looked around and listened more intently than I might normally.
I heard the birds' various twitters. I studied the tree tips as the leaves individually choreographed their own dance. A cloud with an intriguing shape transformed into something else right before my eyes. I took a stool and placed it on the front porch and watched the weather. Sounds like a tiger growling, low and insistent, spread through the heavens, and then a crackle, and then another sound like the dismantling of an old metal machine. A rain drop caught my nose, and then another on my foot. Next, the sound of a bass drum and the sky rolling back from horizon to horizon with a light show.
Not much happening?
God is EVERYWHERE.... gotta be a LOT happening.
Perhaps the question is, how do I fit into all this?
First of all, check out nature; she's always got a show going on.
Next, I could call a friend who recently had shoulder surgery.
I will pray for Carol's husband who has been ill.
A plate of cookies to the neighbor lady might bring her a smile.
I can ask someone, "What did you do today?".. and then really listen beyond the not much answer...

Enjoy what is before you, whether it's lunch with your forever friend or a new friend. Perhaps, it's picking up a child after school and an offer of chocolate milk and a cookie. Perhaps, it's staying late at work so someone else can go home early.
Help others by reflecting the love Christ gave you.
Make it happen with prayer and praise to an Almighty Creator who has given us so much.
And get outside a little each day; it's amazing what fresh air and nature's ever-changing portrait can do for you.

Push PAUSE

Thanks to my parents, I typically pray four times a day: before each meal and before falling asleep at night. “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest….” is my meal time prayer. I have given up the “Now I lay me down to sleep….” evening prayer, unless my grandchildren are in-house, and pray the Lord’s Prayer  along with my heartfelt concerns and expressions of thanks and praise.

Recently, a friend shared an acronymn for hitting all the bases when praying.

A – Acknowledge LORDship

C – Confession (including sins of omission, commission, self-submission)

T – Thanks and praise

S – Supplications – ending with “Thy will be done…”

God cares about us; God cares about creation; God cares about the nations of the world. The Bible verse, Pray without ceasing, used to give me a bit of a guilt complex, in that, how is that possible, Lord?

However, I have come to believe that prayer is not just speaking words of praise, thanks, supplicating, and confessing. It is an attitude. In other words, where are your thoughts?  Am I listening in to the Holy Spirit? If I fill my head with scripture, I’m more apt to have prayerful thoughts. God’s Word is there for a reason. It is a connection to an Almighty God.

I have determined this morning that I can get better at this praying without ceasing if I PAUSE, yes, actually stop to pray more than four times a day. If you’re like me, you have to write this down as a reminder. So, today, after lunch, I’m going to a quiet place after cleaning off the table, and acknowledge God as my Savior, confess my sins large and small, thank Him for the blessings He has bestowed, mention my concerns, and yes, Thy will be done.

It’s a start.

Just maybe I’ll find other times during the day to PAUSE wherever I am…. knowing God wants my company.

I’ve noticed that the closer I feel to my Creator, the more content I am.

PAUSE-ing more often in prayer, just might make my day!

Memories of the Family Farmhouse

The family farmhouse where my dad spent some of his growing-up years, the house he brought his new bride home to, the house that eventually housed six children and their sometimes over-whelmed parents lies crumbled beneath branches and other grove litter waiting for a match.

Once upon a time, a fence surrounded its yard--a yard where a softball game followed every summer, noon meal. A garden with beans and carrots and strawberries lay nearby. Apple trees beckoned those interested in an afternoon apple or an adventurous climb.

When I was very little, my brothers and I spent most of one summer on the screened in porch just off the kitchen. Battling measles and mumps, we lay limp and wished for summer breezes as Mom nursed us back to health while doing the laundry, cooking, and other summer chores.

My memories are primarily of the kitchen where all good smells came from. After that, believe it or not, it is the back steps. It was here that we rushed up the steps after school to hope for a cookie or a cold drink on warm fall days or hot chocolate on a wintry day. It was here that we rushed out the door to the station wagon on our way to church or to a picture show on the school grounds. It was here that Dad came in from his chores and we knew that now we could eat.

After starting college, when I could return home, it was here--climbing these steps--that I knew I was finally home. The steps were chipped, not always clean in spite of my mother's efforts. Worn chore coats and sweatshirts hung from hooks behind the door. When home, I would take one and feel safe as I ventured outside to find my dad or just walk down the lane or from corn crib to tool shed--just to let it all sink in. Home...

I have lived in many houses in my 70 some years. If I could build a house all my own, it would be a replica of this old farm house. Home.