Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Part of the Plan

I am part of the  plan of redemption. When I get up in the morning, I am a missionary: "one on one" with someone in my world. For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," put His light in my heart so I might know Him through Jesus Christ. But God never said, "Go and make disciples and good luck." He never said, "Here are the rules, good luck." He said, "I will be with you." And so I am like a clay jar holding a great treasure. The all-surpassing power comes from God, not from me.
Am I qualified to be a missionary? No, but He doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called. My job is just to show up as a minister of reconciliation in a world that hates Jesus Christ. I am to know peace with God, be at peace with myself, and have peace with others. I am to major in salt and light, resisting evil and showing God's direction.
I may be a paragraph in someone's life, a sentence, a chapter, or maybe just a comma, but I will never be the whole book. Nevertheless, I am called to be part of the plan.
Insightfully yours,
Paulita

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

The Difference Between a Believer and a Pagan

I've been cleaning my files lately and ran across this unidentified clipping:
What is the difference between a believer and a pagan? Portia Nelson has written an insightful piece, An Autobiography in Five Short Chapters: "Chapter 1: I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in he sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost...I am helpless. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. Chapter 2: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I am in the same place, but it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. Chapter 3: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it  is there. I still fall in...It's a habit. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately. Chapter 4: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. Chapter 5 I walk down another street."
The difference between a pagan and a Christian is that the pagan starts to like the holes.
Insightfully yours,
Paulita

Monday, August 21, 2017

Halt! Who Goes There?

Why is it that Satan seems to come when I'm least prepared? I visualize putting on my armor and being prepared to go into battle like an Onward Christian Soldier Marching as to War. But that's not when I encounter him. He generally comes roaring in like a lion when I'm tired or lonesome. Or he sneaks in undetected and suddenly appears when I'm angry. Or he floats in on the wings of the poor-me's when I'm hungry.
Somehow it's easier to analyze what has happened, than to always be alert. But my goal, at least, is to shorten the time between the attack and time I realize the enemy is in my camp.
There is an old song that ends with the words, "Take good care of yourself, you belong to me." God says that to us. Our bodies may house the Holy Spirit, but they also react in human ways because they are made of flesh and blood. They get hungry, angry, lonesome, and tired.
Let's try a simple acronym to remind us to stay alert and close to God. H stands for hungry. A stands for angry. L stands for lonesome. T stands for tired. H.A.L.T. Halt! Don't allow yourself to get too hungry, too angry, too lonesome, or too tired before you go to God for help. Someone said, "Come apart, before you come apart." That's good advice to HALT Satan in his tracks.
Insightfully yours,
Paulita

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Cleaning the Tidbit Box

I have on my desk a little open box where I park my tidbits. Today I decided to see what was in it. I found four cassette tapes, one small calculator, pictures, some Bible memory cards (part of Psalm 16 I was memorizing) a small rock, a small clothes pin (I mean 1 inch size) a thumb tack, a plastic baggie of postage stamps (mostly Christmas), tons of cat fur, and two things worth sharing on a blog. That's pretty good for a 5X6X1 box.
The first thing worth sharing is an unidentifiable, yellowed newspaper clipping. It looks like it is only part of a column.
"When I was 30, I read Gail Godwin's novel The Finishing School. One particular passage, in which 44 year-old Ursula advises 14 year-old Justin about aging, scared me so much that I wrote it down and carried it in my wallet for years:
"There are two kinds of people... One kind, you can tell just by looking at them at what point they congealed into their final selves. It might be a very nice self, but you know you can expect no more surprises from it. Whereas, the other kind keeps moving, changing. With these people, you can never say, "X stops here," or "Now I know all there is to know about Y." That doesn't mean they're unstable. Ah, no, far from it. They are fluid. they keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them young. In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive.
"Yikes, I vowed to grow like the weed you can't kill."
The rest of the clipping is missing, but I add my "Yikes." There are times of exhaustion, failure and defeat, but get up and learn something new. Today I learned that margarine is but ONE MOLECULE away from being plastic... and shares 27 ingredients with paint. True? I don't know. I have no source, but I use butter.
Insightfully yours,
Paulita

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Can't We Just Get Along?

It has been a long time since I posted my frustration of last year. I finished Coming Home at Starbucks and published it last December. Now I'm on to other writing projects. That was to be my "Swan Song" but I can't stop writing.
This blog has nothing to do with writing, only every day life, but isn't that what life is about anyway?
A week or so ago I complained to my husband that it was hard to get to the table at the rear of our office because our chairs were in the middle of the room blocking the way. We each have a desk facing opposite walls. His chair fits under his desk neatly but mine only  fits diagonally. We decided we'd each push our chairs in when we were through with them, but what we DID was let each other know when we pushed THEIRS in.
My husband decided my chair would fit under my desk if it were lowered each time it was put away and raised only when in use. After plopping down on the lowered chair several times, not realizing it was low, I decided I didn't like that method of his reminding me that I hadn't pushed my chair in. He didn't seem to mind my telling him I had pushed his dinnertime chair in after dinner.
I didn't like this tit-for-tat, tattle-tale game. It wasn't fun for me, although it seemed to be for him.
We decided on a better way to do things. Now when we see either of our chairs in the way, we put it where it belongs, mainly in the office where this whole thing started. I push his chair in without saying anything and he pushed mine in without saying anything. We help each other.
New thought? It works!