Maybe your one of those lucky individuals who has always known what God's plan was for your life. You struck out on that path and are still headed down that road. That's not the case for me. Even at 50 something there are still days I find myself saying "what is it God wants me to do with my life."
I was having one of those chains of thought this morning. And I felt God say, maybe I just need some utility players. Only by hosting Miners baseball players in past years did that mean anything to me.
You see out of the 10-15 players we hosted over the years most of them were pitchers. Not all, but at least a third. Pitchers are really good at one thing. They know their job and train and practice for that one thing. In fact a pitcher doesn't just know that he's a pitcher. They know if they are a starter, a reliever, or a closer. Even more specialized in what they do. And they are a very important part of the team. In fact they probably get the most attention of anyone on the team. However, they know they couldn't stand on the mound and play the game alone. They rely on the team standing behind them.
One player we had stay with us, was a utility player. Justin spend two summers with us and became a close part of our family. Justin wasn't a particular "hot shot" in any one area, but he was strong in a lot of different areas. He could play infield or outfield positions, he was a strong, steady hitter, and he was a fast runner. He was a player coach Pinto could move around and use in different spots as needed. For that reason he was an important and integral part of the team.
It was fun to watch Justin play because he loved the game, and knew the game. He knew the ins and outs of the game, which probably made him most effective as a utility player. He had a good understanding of how the team worked together. What all the different roles and positions were. He didn't care where he was playing he just loved to play. He was available, ready and willing where ever he was placed.
I began to think about that in my walk with God. Maybe I am a utility player. Maybe I am just trying to hard to find my spot. God doesn't give everyone the talents to be a pitcher. Besides, how effective would a baseball team be if it were made up of only pitchers or only catchers or only first basemen. I am sure it wouldn't make the playoffs.
How much more effective would I be if I just loved God, and was willing to show up, and play whatever position he assigned me that day? That isn't saying I think I am strong in that many areas, or that like Justin I have a lot of different talents. In my case I think it just starts with being willing to say each morning "God here I am, suited up ready to go, what position on the field do YOU want me to take today?"
1 Corinthians 12:17-20: If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.
Hmmm utility player doesn't sound so bad. What position are you????
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Good Bye's - Dedicated to Grandpa Baity.
Recently a friend of mine left town to move up north. Good luck Terra. I will miss you. I have to find a new movie partner. I am excited for her because she is beginning a chapter in her life that is long over due. However, that still meant having to say Good bye.
After saying good bye to this friend, the word good bye has been floating around in my head this week
Brett and I moved around a lot when we were first married. Brett was in the Navy, we literally moved from one coast to another, and since we rented we moved about every year for the first 10 years of our marriage. That is a lot of good byes.
There are tons of songs with the word Good Bye in them. Carpenters, Good bye to love. Super-tramp's, Good bye Stranger. Jackson Five, Never can say Good bye. And of course Elton's, Good bye yellow brick road.
But the word good bye also brought up a great memory of my great-grandpa. My Grandpa lived to be in his mid nineties. If you haven't noticed yet I am blessed with good jeans. Lots of people in my family live past 90.
My favorite description of this grandpa is from Brittany when she was real young. She said "Is he the Grandpa who lives in the little house in the country and spits in a can?" That was a pretty good description.
There are a lot of neat stories I could tell you about my Grandpa, one would be that he accept Christ in his 90's. The odds of someone being saved at such an age are rare to none. But I am glad I have the hope and promise that I will get to see him again someday.
When I think of my Grandpa I picture him standing in his drive as you backed out to leave. There he stood skinny as a bean pole, in his overalls and cap. He always walked you out to the car, and he would never tell you Good bye, he would just wave with his pointer finger.
He lived by himself after my great grandma died, I always felt like theirs would be one of those great love stories where when one died the other one would follow shortly after from a broken heart, Though obviously God had a better story in place for my Grandpa. He wasn't ready for him yet.
My Grandpa had one of those freak things happen where he was getting up from his chair, or something simple and he broke a hip. (I think it was his hip). Anyway he had to be hospitalized for a few days, possible the only time he was ever in the hospital. While he was in there, he had contact with all those people in his life he loved, kids, grand-kids, and great grand-kids. Everyone either made it to the hospital to see him, or talked to him on the phone, or sent him flowers, had some form of contact with him.
Brett and the kids and I went over from St Louis to see him while he was there. When we got ready to leave his room Grandpa told us all good bye. First time I had heard him use those words. I knew when I walked out of that room that would be the last time I saw my Grandpa alive.
He got released and got to go home to his own house a few days later. He was only home a short time before he passed away. But God had arranged for him to get to tell all of his loved ones good bye. What an awesome Good bye blessing for all of us.
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My great grandparents, Baity and Edna Krutsinger
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2b "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die.............it could just as easily say a time to say hello and a time to say Good Bye!!!!
After saying good bye to this friend, the word good bye has been floating around in my head this week
Brett and I moved around a lot when we were first married. Brett was in the Navy, we literally moved from one coast to another, and since we rented we moved about every year for the first 10 years of our marriage. That is a lot of good byes.
There are tons of songs with the word Good Bye in them. Carpenters, Good bye to love. Super-tramp's, Good bye Stranger. Jackson Five, Never can say Good bye. And of course Elton's, Good bye yellow brick road.
But the word good bye also brought up a great memory of my great-grandpa. My Grandpa lived to be in his mid nineties. If you haven't noticed yet I am blessed with good jeans. Lots of people in my family live past 90.
My favorite description of this grandpa is from Brittany when she was real young. She said "Is he the Grandpa who lives in the little house in the country and spits in a can?" That was a pretty good description.
There are a lot of neat stories I could tell you about my Grandpa, one would be that he accept Christ in his 90's. The odds of someone being saved at such an age are rare to none. But I am glad I have the hope and promise that I will get to see him again someday.
When I think of my Grandpa I picture him standing in his drive as you backed out to leave. There he stood skinny as a bean pole, in his overalls and cap. He always walked you out to the car, and he would never tell you Good bye, he would just wave with his pointer finger.
He lived by himself after my great grandma died, I always felt like theirs would be one of those great love stories where when one died the other one would follow shortly after from a broken heart, Though obviously God had a better story in place for my Grandpa. He wasn't ready for him yet.
My Grandpa had one of those freak things happen where he was getting up from his chair, or something simple and he broke a hip. (I think it was his hip). Anyway he had to be hospitalized for a few days, possible the only time he was ever in the hospital. While he was in there, he had contact with all those people in his life he loved, kids, grand-kids, and great grand-kids. Everyone either made it to the hospital to see him, or talked to him on the phone, or sent him flowers, had some form of contact with him.
Brett and the kids and I went over from St Louis to see him while he was there. When we got ready to leave his room Grandpa told us all good bye. First time I had heard him use those words. I knew when I walked out of that room that would be the last time I saw my Grandpa alive.
He got released and got to go home to his own house a few days later. He was only home a short time before he passed away. But God had arranged for him to get to tell all of his loved ones good bye. What an awesome Good bye blessing for all of us.
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Sunday, August 4, 2013
Extremes
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So, this is a picture of Brittany and I actually getting our tattoo's. As you can tell my daughter is just a tad bit more dramatic than I am. Which is one of the things I love the most about her.
But there is a much bigger lesson behind this picture than the difference in our personalities.
OK. There may have been some pain involved, but we are both exaggerating to a certain extend just in different directions. The real lesson came for me the next evening about 24 hours later. We got them last Saturday, and Sunday evening I began to have a horrible back ache. In fact my back hurt and I had spasms most of the week. It is a week later and my back is just starting to feel normal.
I realized after looking at these two pictures why that probably is. Even though it might be a little in excess. Brittany is releasing the pain she is feeling. She is expressing it. I know I look calm and relaxed right. A rock? In reality if you could zoom in on my knuckles I am pretty sure they are white from holding that table. And I was afraid to move so I sat in that tense, odd position, probably holding my breathe most of the time. It wasn't even for very long but I reaped the side effects all week.
It is that way with any kind of pain in our lives. If we don't express the pain, if we hide it and act like it isn't there, it is going to come out somewhere. If someone says something that hurts our feelings, betrays us, lies to us, breaks a confidence. Those things hurt and we can bite our tongues, act like the pain isn't there, deny, ignore, act like we are tougher than we are, but the hurt is going to come out somewhere. It may show up in your blood pressure, or your cholesterol, headaches, neck aches, back aches, TMJ, pinched nerves. The pain is going to come out somewhere.
So, look at the lesson in this picture. Brittany released her pain, it lasted the whole 8 minutes she was getting her tattoo. Mine could have lasted only the 15 minutes it took to get mine. Instead I was struggling a whole week with lower back pain because my pride said, "I am tough I can do this without showing any signs of weakness."
God doesn't call us to be strong, to be tough, to hold it all in. In fact, just the opposite. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:9, But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ my rest upon me.
When we give in and say I am hurting, and we turn that pain over to God, and we rely on him and not our own strength then He really begins to use us. When it's His power in us and not our own then we really are strong.
Thanks for teaching me a lesson this week Brittany!
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Daughter of Grace
So, I finally did it. I have been talking for two years about getting a tattoo and I finally did it.
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Mine
I went back and forth on the fence about whether there was anything biblicly wrong in getting one. I couldn't find anything that said there was. I went round and round about if I was too old to get one. Then, that new less people pleasing, part of me said go ahead. I didn't have any of the normal fears of pain or needles. I figured if I could have two kids I could handle the pain of a small tattoo.
But I didn't want to go it alone. Since I started talking about it I have been recruiting people to get one with me. Tory, Elaine, Angie, Kim and Brittany, the only one I was able to convince who was here, when it came right down to time to do it was Brittany. We went and got our ear cartilage pierced together when she turned 18, so it seemed only right to do mother/daughter tattoos together.
I have known since I started talking about getting one what I wanted. I wanted the Twila Paris song title "Daughter of Grace" on my foot. There were two purposes in this tattoo. One to be a constant reminder to me that I am a daughter of grace, I am a daughter of the King. And two as an opening when people see it, and ask what it means, to share part of my testimony.
God uses music and lyrics so often in my life, and this song was one of those times. In 1999 I had three events that started a journey of healing and grace for me. In July of 1999 my Dad passed away. My parents divorced when I was young so my father and I didn't have a real close relationship. So, his unexpected death caused some regret and guilt in my life. September of that same year, Brittany was diagnosed with a tumor on her brain. All ended well but for the first time in my life there was something I couldn't fix or control. A month later Brett was laid off from his job, another event that I had no control over and made me realize where I was placing my security.
Those 3 events knocked me for a loop. Maybe, I wasn't in as much control of this perfect life I had created, as I thought I was. I received a Twila Paris CD that year for Christmas. We had started a Christmas tradition with the kids that on our 2 day, 350 mile Christmas trek we listened to all new CD's. So, on the trip from Marion back to St Louis at about midnight Christmas night we were listening to this CD. Actually, Brett was listening to it. The kids were asleep and I was in and out. But, I did catch the words to this song, and I sat up and replayed it. I remember thinking this song is my life. "She spent half her life working hard to be someone you had to admire. Met the expectations, then added some of her own, so proud of all that she had done, where was the glory? So proud of all that she had not done."
I listened to that song to and from work for about a month. I would sing those words to God and cry all the way. Through those tears God began to speak to my heart. He began to show me, that it didn't matter what I had done, or hadn't done. He still loved me. It didn't matter what I did, or didn't do in the future. He wasn't going to love me any more or any less. I began to realize that in the same way salvation is a free gift, so is grace. It isn't something we can earn or loose. It is mine for the accepting. That song changed my relationship with God, and it changed my life. So, it seems appropriate to wear it on my foot. "Born for a second time in a brand new place daughter of grace."
If you have time play the video and listen to the words of this song. Thank you God for salvation and grace. Thanks Brett for the CD, and thanks Twila for a great song!!
Attached is a link to a video of my testimony regarding this song. Click on the link to see it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIKTORRbSvQ&feature=youtu.be
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Brittany's
I went back and forth on the fence about whether there was anything biblicly wrong in getting one. I couldn't find anything that said there was. I went round and round about if I was too old to get one. Then, that new less people pleasing, part of me said go ahead. I didn't have any of the normal fears of pain or needles. I figured if I could have two kids I could handle the pain of a small tattoo.
But I didn't want to go it alone. Since I started talking about it I have been recruiting people to get one with me. Tory, Elaine, Angie, Kim and Brittany, the only one I was able to convince who was here, when it came right down to time to do it was Brittany. We went and got our ear cartilage pierced together when she turned 18, so it seemed only right to do mother/daughter tattoos together.
I have known since I started talking about getting one what I wanted. I wanted the Twila Paris song title "Daughter of Grace" on my foot. There were two purposes in this tattoo. One to be a constant reminder to me that I am a daughter of grace, I am a daughter of the King. And two as an opening when people see it, and ask what it means, to share part of my testimony.
God uses music and lyrics so often in my life, and this song was one of those times. In 1999 I had three events that started a journey of healing and grace for me. In July of 1999 my Dad passed away. My parents divorced when I was young so my father and I didn't have a real close relationship. So, his unexpected death caused some regret and guilt in my life. September of that same year, Brittany was diagnosed with a tumor on her brain. All ended well but for the first time in my life there was something I couldn't fix or control. A month later Brett was laid off from his job, another event that I had no control over and made me realize where I was placing my security.
Those 3 events knocked me for a loop. Maybe, I wasn't in as much control of this perfect life I had created, as I thought I was. I received a Twila Paris CD that year for Christmas. We had started a Christmas tradition with the kids that on our 2 day, 350 mile Christmas trek we listened to all new CD's. So, on the trip from Marion back to St Louis at about midnight Christmas night we were listening to this CD. Actually, Brett was listening to it. The kids were asleep and I was in and out. But, I did catch the words to this song, and I sat up and replayed it. I remember thinking this song is my life. "She spent half her life working hard to be someone you had to admire. Met the expectations, then added some of her own, so proud of all that she had done, where was the glory? So proud of all that she had not done."
I listened to that song to and from work for about a month. I would sing those words to God and cry all the way. Through those tears God began to speak to my heart. He began to show me, that it didn't matter what I had done, or hadn't done. He still loved me. It didn't matter what I did, or didn't do in the future. He wasn't going to love me any more or any less. I began to realize that in the same way salvation is a free gift, so is grace. It isn't something we can earn or loose. It is mine for the accepting. That song changed my relationship with God, and it changed my life. So, it seems appropriate to wear it on my foot. "Born for a second time in a brand new place daughter of grace."
If you have time play the video and listen to the words of this song. Thank you God for salvation and grace. Thanks Brett for the CD, and thanks Twila for a great song!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIKTORRbSvQ&feature=youtu.be
Monday, July 22, 2013
GRANDMA'S FRIED CHICKEN AND GRAVY
Last week my kids all came over for supper. Brittany had mentioned a month ago that Will had never had my fried chicken and gravy. They have been married 9 years so not sure how that happen. But I promised her I would make it for everyone one night.
So, I stopped at the store and picked up all the fixins for fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, macaroni and cheese, and white chicken gravy. The meal that will always make me think of my Grandma Hanks. My grandmother was a wonderful cook but if you ask anyone what she was famous for her fried chicken, and gravy would definitely be at the top of the list. And there was a special trick to the gravy. I know most people eat their gravy over their mashed potatos, but for me growing up the gravy was always poured over torn up pieces of white bread.
As a little girl I not only remember the fried chicken but I also remember the whole day that was set aside to dress those chickens. A big ole cast iron pot was set out over an open fire filled with water. They would gather up the chickens, chop off their heads and drop them in the boiling water. They would pluck off all those feathers, once in awhile I got to help with that. My favorite part was cleaning out the gizzards, and playing with the feet. It all sounds strange now but those were good old days. The days when a whole group of family, neighbors, and friends would get together to help. Knowing at some point they would be enjoying the fruits of those labors with one of my grandma's fried chicken meals.
As I sat out to make supper that night I was reminded of the first time I attempted to make fried chicken and gravy. Brett and I hadn't been married very long. We were living half way across the country from everyone and I was craving some of my grandma's good ole fried chicken and gravy. I was probably craving the family atmosphere as much as the food. Now I had stood on a chair and "watched" my grandma make that meal probably hundreds of times, but no one had ever really taught me how. I wrote my Grandma and asked for directions. She mailed me directions on how to make it. My fried chicken turned out pretty good, but my gravy was horrible. It was thin like water. My wonderful new husband was great, he said it taste OK it is just thin gravy. I was so disappointed I threw mine in the trash and wouldn't even eat it.
It would be many years later before I would even attempt to try it again. But I finally did, and this time I realized what I had done wrong. I didn't wait. That step after you pour in the milk, and then it starts to boil, and you let it boil for a minute. I skipped that one. The first time I just poured in the milk let it heat up a few seconds and dumped it up. I missed that important part where you wait for the gravy to thicken.
There are lots of areas in my life I didn't wait, where I didn't allow God to "thickened" me or the people I loved. Times when I moved ahead like Sarah, and Rachael and tried to fix things my own way. Times in finances where I moved ahead on my timing where if I had waited God would have "thickened" my wallet. Or even times in the life's of my kids, when I maybe tried to fix things for them, or make things easier, when maybe God was trying to "thickened" their faith and I got in the way.
I am proud to say that I can make a decent fried chicken and gravy now. I would never compare it to my Grandma's but I can hold my own. And I can say that I am getting better about waiting on God. I am learning the sweet taste of that "thickening" process.
Psalm 62:5&6 says "Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken!"
Love and miss you Grandma!!
So, I stopped at the store and picked up all the fixins for fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, macaroni and cheese, and white chicken gravy. The meal that will always make me think of my Grandma Hanks. My grandmother was a wonderful cook but if you ask anyone what she was famous for her fried chicken, and gravy would definitely be at the top of the list. And there was a special trick to the gravy. I know most people eat their gravy over their mashed potatos, but for me growing up the gravy was always poured over torn up pieces of white bread.
As a little girl I not only remember the fried chicken but I also remember the whole day that was set aside to dress those chickens. A big ole cast iron pot was set out over an open fire filled with water. They would gather up the chickens, chop off their heads and drop them in the boiling water. They would pluck off all those feathers, once in awhile I got to help with that. My favorite part was cleaning out the gizzards, and playing with the feet. It all sounds strange now but those were good old days. The days when a whole group of family, neighbors, and friends would get together to help. Knowing at some point they would be enjoying the fruits of those labors with one of my grandma's fried chicken meals.
As I sat out to make supper that night I was reminded of the first time I attempted to make fried chicken and gravy. Brett and I hadn't been married very long. We were living half way across the country from everyone and I was craving some of my grandma's good ole fried chicken and gravy. I was probably craving the family atmosphere as much as the food. Now I had stood on a chair and "watched" my grandma make that meal probably hundreds of times, but no one had ever really taught me how. I wrote my Grandma and asked for directions. She mailed me directions on how to make it. My fried chicken turned out pretty good, but my gravy was horrible. It was thin like water. My wonderful new husband was great, he said it taste OK it is just thin gravy. I was so disappointed I threw mine in the trash and wouldn't even eat it.
It would be many years later before I would even attempt to try it again. But I finally did, and this time I realized what I had done wrong. I didn't wait. That step after you pour in the milk, and then it starts to boil, and you let it boil for a minute. I skipped that one. The first time I just poured in the milk let it heat up a few seconds and dumped it up. I missed that important part where you wait for the gravy to thicken.
There are lots of areas in my life I didn't wait, where I didn't allow God to "thickened" me or the people I loved. Times when I moved ahead like Sarah, and Rachael and tried to fix things my own way. Times in finances where I moved ahead on my timing where if I had waited God would have "thickened" my wallet. Or even times in the life's of my kids, when I maybe tried to fix things for them, or make things easier, when maybe God was trying to "thickened" their faith and I got in the way.
I am proud to say that I can make a decent fried chicken and gravy now. I would never compare it to my Grandma's but I can hold my own. And I can say that I am getting better about waiting on God. I am learning the sweet taste of that "thickening" process.
Psalm 62:5&6 says "Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken!"
Love and miss you Grandma!!
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