I usually get a little nervous around an armored car. The security guards look as though they are taking the responsibility of protecting the cash very seriously and I wouldn’t want to get in their way.
Come to think of it, most of the guards I’ve observed are quite intent. I once watched a TV program which showcased Dorothy’s ruby slippers. I was surprised, and a little amused, to watch the procession of people guarding those red shoes. I don’t happen to put the same value on those shoes as other people do, but that’s okay.
Soldiers who watch over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the guards at Buckingham Palace, the men and women who guard the Hope Diamond, and the thousands of security personnel stationed to protect people and treasures around the globe go through rigorous training to qualify them to protect such valuables. I believe the best guards are placed around the greatest treasures.
Personally, I can think of no greater treasure than our children. My husband and I make no apologies for doing our best to guard the gifts God has given to us. It’s not an easy job and hasn’t always made us popular with them, but we have been committed to their protection.
Years ago, one daughter introduced us to a young man she had met at college. Later, she asked us what we thought. I told her we wanted some time to get to know him. She expressed her fear that her new friend might feel we didn't like him. I bit my tongue while her father chose a more diplomatic approach. He explained to her that we did not have to win him over; he had to impress us. She was our treasure and we were determined to stand guard and protect her.
On another occasion, while discussing her relationship with her boyfriend, a different college-age daughter said, "Well, it's my life."
"Don’t be ridiculous." I quickly responded. (My husband was not around to buffer my words.) "It's not just your life. It's my life, too, and the lives of everyone who loves you and rushes in with comfort every time you're hurt. In the end, it may be your decision, but I will not stand by silently and agree with this destructive relationship."
Sometimes I feel hugely inadequate for this job of parenting. More than once I have said, somewhat jokingly, "I apologize for everything I did wrong, and anything I did right was probably an accident." With only one child still in high school, you might think I would be coasting through this time. I'm not. I hate to say, "No. Never. Not on my watch." when I'd much rather say, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
(How do they respond to my answers? Usually much better than I do when my Heavenly Father's answers to my prayers don't conform to my plans, but let's not talk about that.)
I can't imagine a day when I will ever forget to pray for help as I walk through, and work through, this parenting thing. I choose to trust God, Who is the greatest Guard of all, to protect my treasures. I do not have a Hope diamond, but I have been blessed with children filled with hope and bright with promise. I am entrusting them to God’s faithful watch.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Victoria's Valentine
It was February 14, 2002. Victoria’s seven-year-old eyes slowly scanned the Valentine loot scattered on the kitchen table. Pushing aside treat-filled plastic bags, small white envelopes bearing her name, and the wrappings of the candy that didn’t survive the ride home, she reached for the large, red, heart-shaped box.
“And who is this for?” she asked, her voice filled with hope that she was the intended recipient.
“Sorry. I bought it for your Dad,” I replied while thinking Victoria’s choice of the Whitman sampler was pretty impressive.
“May I open it?” she boldly questioned.
“Well… okay,” I answered after deciding Michael wouldn’t mind. By the time he returned from his business trip, he’d barely notice it anyway. I continued, “Just don’t lose the little map inside. It lets you know where each type of candy is located.”
My husband does not like surprises. With regards to candy and to life, he wants to know what’s in store for him before he sinks his teeth into it.
“Okay, I won’t lose it,” she happily promised as I left the kitchen.
Only moments after she had ripped the cellophane from the candy it had been protecting, Victoria found me in the study. Her solemn expression informed me that her next words had been carefully chosen.
“I didn’t lose the map,” she quietly began, then continued with a rush of words, “but I dropped the box and all of the candy fell out and I don’t know where any of it belongs.”
In her defense, I never told her not to drop the box. I only asked her to guard the map. She followed me into the kitchen where we began to pick up the candy. The bounty of strewn sweets dwindled as we attempted to return each piece to its proper place. It was a difficult task, except for the cashews. It’s easy to spot a nut, even when it is covered in chocolate and trying to masquerade as a candy.
And so it is with life…
Sometimes we drop the box. The pieces of our lives are then in disarray and suddenly we don’t know where anything belongs. Spouses, children, jobs, ministries, hobbies, unspoken dreams, friends, and even nutty relatives (I can’t believe I wrote that!) viciously vie for our attention. They all start to look the same. Well, except for the nuts. They’re easy to spot, even when they try to masquerade as something sweet.
Keeping my priorities in order is an ongoing task for me. I am so grateful for my God, Who kneels beside me to take those sweet, but scattered portions of my life and return them to their proper place. Even the nuts!
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
“And who is this for?” she asked, her voice filled with hope that she was the intended recipient.
“Sorry. I bought it for your Dad,” I replied while thinking Victoria’s choice of the Whitman sampler was pretty impressive.
“May I open it?” she boldly questioned.
“Well… okay,” I answered after deciding Michael wouldn’t mind. By the time he returned from his business trip, he’d barely notice it anyway. I continued, “Just don’t lose the little map inside. It lets you know where each type of candy is located.”
My husband does not like surprises. With regards to candy and to life, he wants to know what’s in store for him before he sinks his teeth into it.
“Okay, I won’t lose it,” she happily promised as I left the kitchen.
Only moments after she had ripped the cellophane from the candy it had been protecting, Victoria found me in the study. Her solemn expression informed me that her next words had been carefully chosen.
“I didn’t lose the map,” she quietly began, then continued with a rush of words, “but I dropped the box and all of the candy fell out and I don’t know where any of it belongs.”
In her defense, I never told her not to drop the box. I only asked her to guard the map. She followed me into the kitchen where we began to pick up the candy. The bounty of strewn sweets dwindled as we attempted to return each piece to its proper place. It was a difficult task, except for the cashews. It’s easy to spot a nut, even when it is covered in chocolate and trying to masquerade as a candy.
And so it is with life…
Sometimes we drop the box. The pieces of our lives are then in disarray and suddenly we don’t know where anything belongs. Spouses, children, jobs, ministries, hobbies, unspoken dreams, friends, and even nutty relatives (I can’t believe I wrote that!) viciously vie for our attention. They all start to look the same. Well, except for the nuts. They’re easy to spot, even when they try to masquerade as something sweet.
Keeping my priorities in order is an ongoing task for me. I am so grateful for my God, Who kneels beside me to take those sweet, but scattered portions of my life and return them to their proper place. Even the nuts!
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Kerri's Brisket
Kerri's brisket is the best. Everyone knows that. Well, at least everyone in my family. If there's an event calling for brisket, my niece cooks it. And if she prepares it for her husband and son, she often shares a portion with us. I think she was more than a little surprised when I asked her, again!, for the recipe. She's explained it to me in the past, but I apparently put it in my mental file marked, "Forget this information because you will never use it."
She began, "Well, do you have a blue pan?"
"No. Should I?"
"Yes. You can get it at Wal Mart. It looks like the pan Aunt Ann always uses to bring the turkey for Christmas."
In our family, once you experience success with a dish, an unwritten rule states you will supply that dish at subsequent events. Ann's husband, Mike, always prepares the turkey.
"Or," Kerri continued, "you can borrow mine."
"I'll borrow yours."
"Fine. Now, you need two bottles of sauce, but don't even bother looking for one of them. The only place you can get it is Matherne's"
"Where do I get the other one?"
"Anywhere. I'll go to Matherne's for you and bring the sauce when I bring you the blue pan."
And she did. After working all day, she picked up her son Dylan, and brought me everything I needed for a successful brisket before going home to fix dinner for her family.
Speaking of Dylan, it wasn't long ago when he walked into my kitchen and proudly handed me a gift.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"It's just because I love you."
The pretty notepads, stamped with ASAP, sit on my desk; a gentle reminder to Always Say A Prayer. At this moment, my prayer is one of gratitude, not just for Kerri and Dylan, but for my other nieces and nephews. Each of them graces my life with kindness, generosity, wisdom, and wit. I pray for their protection and obedience to God's direction. May they daily use their lives in service to God and others.
I'm not sure what Kerri's prayers began with today, but they probably ended with, "And could You please remind Aunt Ronny to return my blue pan?"
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.
She began, "Well, do you have a blue pan?"
"No. Should I?"
"Yes. You can get it at Wal Mart. It looks like the pan Aunt Ann always uses to bring the turkey for Christmas."
In our family, once you experience success with a dish, an unwritten rule states you will supply that dish at subsequent events. Ann's husband, Mike, always prepares the turkey.
"Or," Kerri continued, "you can borrow mine."
"I'll borrow yours."
"Fine. Now, you need two bottles of sauce, but don't even bother looking for one of them. The only place you can get it is Matherne's"
"Where do I get the other one?"
"Anywhere. I'll go to Matherne's for you and bring the sauce when I bring you the blue pan."
And she did. After working all day, she picked up her son Dylan, and brought me everything I needed for a successful brisket before going home to fix dinner for her family.
Speaking of Dylan, it wasn't long ago when he walked into my kitchen and proudly handed me a gift.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"It's just because I love you."
The pretty notepads, stamped with ASAP, sit on my desk; a gentle reminder to Always Say A Prayer. At this moment, my prayer is one of gratitude, not just for Kerri and Dylan, but for my other nieces and nephews. Each of them graces my life with kindness, generosity, wisdom, and wit. I pray for their protection and obedience to God's direction. May they daily use their lives in service to God and others.
I'm not sure what Kerri's prayers began with today, but they probably ended with, "And could You please remind Aunt Ronny to return my blue pan?"
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Faithful Memories
I gave up on perfection a long time ago. It was a conscious decision made while at a studio selecting photographs to purchase. There were ample shots of Monique, then a toddler, calmly striking a pose for the camera. However, the one that caught my eye, the one the photographer assumed I'd toss, was my first choice. The close up revealed a Cheerio in her mouth.
"I've got to buy this one, " I said, "Otherwise, I might forget I put Cheerios in her white eyelet purse so she would have a snack in case we had to wait a long time before taking the pictures." Apparently we had to wait long enough for her to get hungry, but not long enough for her to finish eating.
I'm not sure which I prefer, the photos in the albums which are causing my shelf to bend, or the stories behind them. I just hope never to have to choose.
But it's not just photo albums which evoke our favorite memories. Mention Disney World, or Powerade, and a member of my loving family will tell you about the time this tired mother practically stumbled to a concession kiosk in that Magic Kingdom to buy a specific drink for her thirsty, yet picky child. Unfortunately for me, there were witnesses as I blurted out, "Boo Powade Peese."
And travel down Airline Highway to an intersection which was once the location of a fried chicken restaurant. A large sign, meant to entice customers, boldly proclaimed, "Tastes just like Mama's."
My children thought they were really funny when they cringed and cried out, "Oh, no, that place must be terrible! Please, mama, never take us there!"
Even shampoo bottles cause me to turn down memory lane to remember the day I discovered young Victoria was using shampoo to bathe. When asked why she thought that was okay, she said, "Look at the bottle. It says Extra Body. I thought that meant I could use it for my body, too." She was just acting on her interpretation of the shampoo's claim.
After I finished laughing about the incident, I thought of how many times I've bought something which boasted, "New and improved," "Freshest Flavor," or "Best Value." I even believe in the ability of hair conditioners which promise to take my hair from frizzy to smooth. And it's at this point I question myself, "Do I have at least this much faith in the promises of God?"
I'd love to immediately, and without reservation, answer, "YES!" However, I find it much better to examine my heart, not just for the right answer, but for the truth. Matthew 17:20 records Jesus' encouragement to the disciples that even if their faith in the power of God was as small as a mustard seed, mountains could move.
It's not the amount of my faith, but the power of my God, that makes the difference between success and defeat.
Is my faith perfect? No, but my God is flawless. And I don't need photo albums, or relatives, to remind me of the times He's been faithful to me in the past. Those memories are forever engraved upon my soul.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
"I've got to buy this one, " I said, "Otherwise, I might forget I put Cheerios in her white eyelet purse so she would have a snack in case we had to wait a long time before taking the pictures." Apparently we had to wait long enough for her to get hungry, but not long enough for her to finish eating.
I'm not sure which I prefer, the photos in the albums which are causing my shelf to bend, or the stories behind them. I just hope never to have to choose.
But it's not just photo albums which evoke our favorite memories. Mention Disney World, or Powerade, and a member of my loving family will tell you about the time this tired mother practically stumbled to a concession kiosk in that Magic Kingdom to buy a specific drink for her thirsty, yet picky child. Unfortunately for me, there were witnesses as I blurted out, "Boo Powade Peese."
And travel down Airline Highway to an intersection which was once the location of a fried chicken restaurant. A large sign, meant to entice customers, boldly proclaimed, "Tastes just like Mama's."
My children thought they were really funny when they cringed and cried out, "Oh, no, that place must be terrible! Please, mama, never take us there!"
Even shampoo bottles cause me to turn down memory lane to remember the day I discovered young Victoria was using shampoo to bathe. When asked why she thought that was okay, she said, "Look at the bottle. It says Extra Body. I thought that meant I could use it for my body, too." She was just acting on her interpretation of the shampoo's claim.
After I finished laughing about the incident, I thought of how many times I've bought something which boasted, "New and improved," "Freshest Flavor," or "Best Value." I even believe in the ability of hair conditioners which promise to take my hair from frizzy to smooth. And it's at this point I question myself, "Do I have at least this much faith in the promises of God?"
I'd love to immediately, and without reservation, answer, "YES!" However, I find it much better to examine my heart, not just for the right answer, but for the truth. Matthew 17:20 records Jesus' encouragement to the disciples that even if their faith in the power of God was as small as a mustard seed, mountains could move.
It's not the amount of my faith, but the power of my God, that makes the difference between success and defeat.
Is my faith perfect? No, but my God is flawless. And I don't need photo albums, or relatives, to remind me of the times He's been faithful to me in the past. Those memories are forever engraved upon my soul.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Layers
Recess with first graders during the winter was always a challenge. Whenever the temperature took a plunge, the students ran around the playground, awkwardly trying to balance themselves while wearing extra sweaters covered by bulky coats. Hands warmed by thick gloves clumsily tugged at hats and played with scarves. I sent my own children to school the same way; protected from the cold despite the time it took to layer the clothing.
After spending a few minutes in the bright sun, the shedding process would begin. No longer needing the many layers which they claimed hindered their play, hats, scarves, gloves and coats were piled onto a nearby bench.
Layers. How many have I worn to protect me from the cold? Not from falling temperatures, but from icy stares, a cold shoulder, or a chilly reception. How many layers of worry, rejection, or pride have I put on in an effort to insulate myself? How bundled up am I in my own insecurities? How often has the chance of failure caused me to become frozen in fear? How many barriers exist between me and the people in my world?
Rather than continue to be bound by old habits of self-preservation, I seek to find freedom by taking a lesson from the children. But instead of warming up by running around in the sun (although an appealing idea) I'm going to bask in the love of the Son. The only thing I really need to be wrapped up in is His unfailing love, which according to Psalm 32:10, surrounds me. It's the only layer I need. When the world around me seems to grow cold, I'm going to allow His unconditional love, continued presence, and amazing grace to melt my heart.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
After spending a few minutes in the bright sun, the shedding process would begin. No longer needing the many layers which they claimed hindered their play, hats, scarves, gloves and coats were piled onto a nearby bench.
Layers. How many have I worn to protect me from the cold? Not from falling temperatures, but from icy stares, a cold shoulder, or a chilly reception. How many layers of worry, rejection, or pride have I put on in an effort to insulate myself? How bundled up am I in my own insecurities? How often has the chance of failure caused me to become frozen in fear? How many barriers exist between me and the people in my world?
Rather than continue to be bound by old habits of self-preservation, I seek to find freedom by taking a lesson from the children. But instead of warming up by running around in the sun (although an appealing idea) I'm going to bask in the love of the Son. The only thing I really need to be wrapped up in is His unfailing love, which according to Psalm 32:10, surrounds me. It's the only layer I need. When the world around me seems to grow cold, I'm going to allow His unconditional love, continued presence, and amazing grace to melt my heart.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Labels
"Victoria, help me hold this steady so I can label it," I said as I lifted a new Christmas storage bin onto the sofa.
"Of course you're labeling it," she said. "You just love using your Sharpie pen."
Victoria's right. I love to label things. My family has grown accustomed to labeled plastic containers in the cabinets and pantry, but was surprised when I took my trusty Sharpie to the refrigerator door.
"You can't write on that," my husband protested.
"Why not? The drawers are already labeled: deli, crisper, meats. I'm just continuing what Kenmore started."
"Who writes on their refrigerator?" my shocked husband continued. And now we all know the answer to that question. I do. When you open the door to my refrigerator, you will not have to wonder where to find relish, salad dressing, and condiments. It's clearly marked.
Because of this, no one was really stunned to open the dishwasher and find "steak knives," "butter knives," "forks," etc. neatly written in Sharpie black, on the door above the silverware basket. But that's where it ends. I do not label people.
People are not generically, mass-produced products, but divinely created individuals who should never be judged and grouped into categories by others. When tempted to form a critical opinion or predict someone's future based on their past mistakes, I'm reminded of Matthew 7:1, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged." I find it so much easier to recognize bad habits and traits in others, than to admit those same tendencies in myself. Right before I judge someone and assign them a negative label, I stop and take a long, hard look at myself. Then I repent and rediscover God's infinite mercy.
Mercy. It's been defined as compassion towards an offense and if it was visible, according to Psalm 23: 6, you'd see it following me. God's goodness and mercy follow me to mop up my mistakes and show His faithfulness. Mercy lines the tracks I leave behind, and when my children follow my trail, they will see my footprints outlined with God's mercy. They will see how even when my path went through difficult circumstances, sometimes when I chased after things I shouldn't have, God was still there to rescue me when I called out to Him.
So while I will continue to sort, organize, and label my possessions for easy access, I will use my Sharpie to draw the line at labeling people. Instead of seeing faults, may my eyes be open to see the possibilities in others. May I see the permanent marker of God's goodness and mercy following them, too.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
"Of course you're labeling it," she said. "You just love using your Sharpie pen."
Victoria's right. I love to label things. My family has grown accustomed to labeled plastic containers in the cabinets and pantry, but was surprised when I took my trusty Sharpie to the refrigerator door.
"You can't write on that," my husband protested.
"Why not? The drawers are already labeled: deli, crisper, meats. I'm just continuing what Kenmore started."
"Who writes on their refrigerator?" my shocked husband continued. And now we all know the answer to that question. I do. When you open the door to my refrigerator, you will not have to wonder where to find relish, salad dressing, and condiments. It's clearly marked.
Because of this, no one was really stunned to open the dishwasher and find "steak knives," "butter knives," "forks," etc. neatly written in Sharpie black, on the door above the silverware basket. But that's where it ends. I do not label people.
People are not generically, mass-produced products, but divinely created individuals who should never be judged and grouped into categories by others. When tempted to form a critical opinion or predict someone's future based on their past mistakes, I'm reminded of Matthew 7:1, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged." I find it so much easier to recognize bad habits and traits in others, than to admit those same tendencies in myself. Right before I judge someone and assign them a negative label, I stop and take a long, hard look at myself. Then I repent and rediscover God's infinite mercy.
Mercy. It's been defined as compassion towards an offense and if it was visible, according to Psalm 23: 6, you'd see it following me. God's goodness and mercy follow me to mop up my mistakes and show His faithfulness. Mercy lines the tracks I leave behind, and when my children follow my trail, they will see my footprints outlined with God's mercy. They will see how even when my path went through difficult circumstances, sometimes when I chased after things I shouldn't have, God was still there to rescue me when I called out to Him.
So while I will continue to sort, organize, and label my possessions for easy access, I will use my Sharpie to draw the line at labeling people. Instead of seeing faults, may my eyes be open to see the possibilities in others. May I see the permanent marker of God's goodness and mercy following them, too.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Getting on the Same Page
Although I'm a planner and list maker, I love when God takes my preparations and launches them in an entirely different direction. This happens most often during the hour I spend each week with the ladies at the Correctional Facility.
I never know who will be in the meeting, or what they will share. Each lady is given the opportunity to read a verse from the Bible they have chosen and briefly discuss its importance.
I'm often amazed when their selections perfectly link to the topic I've chosen. At other times, the Scriptures they read tie together, God drops a story or another verse into my heart, and we go from there. I love it! I enjoy preparing as much as I can, surrounding my plans with prayer, and watching God's plan unfold.
Not too long ago, the best lesson came from an error. As one lady stood at the podium, she announced her verse and waited for everyone to find it. After she read a few words, I watched the group as they turned to one another, looking at each other's Bibles, whispering, and becoming increasingly more confused.
"She's reading something different," someone announced, and we realized her mistake. She simply said the wrong verse, which sent the group to one part of the Bible while she read another.
I quickly used the experience. "How did you feel when she told you to find one verse, then read something totally different?" All agreed they thought they had heard the wrong thing, felt mixed up, and couldn’t grasp what was being read because they were trying to figure out what was going on.
"That's what we do to people when we say one thing, then do another. If we instruct others, then live our lives contrary to what we've taught, it brings confusion. Anything we say after that, regardless of how good it is, is lost. I want to remember this the next time I try to tell my children what to do."
The experience reminded me of the time I called my sister, Ann. "Want to meet me at Waffle House?"
"Sure," she said. "I'll be over in a few minutes." And although I said Waffle House, I really meant to say IHOP. I went to IHOP and sat in a booth where I waited and waited, not knowing Ann was enduring the same experience across town at Waffle House. Not much fellowship happens when you send someone in one direction, then take off in another. Once I realized my mistake, Ann and I met and had a great visit.
And once all of the ladies in the Correctional Facility got on the same page, literally, we were able to listen and learn from the speaker.
Practice what you preach is the adage that reverberated in my heart as I drove away that afternoon. And as is often the case, the lesson was as much for me as it was for anyone else in the room that day.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
I never know who will be in the meeting, or what they will share. Each lady is given the opportunity to read a verse from the Bible they have chosen and briefly discuss its importance.
I'm often amazed when their selections perfectly link to the topic I've chosen. At other times, the Scriptures they read tie together, God drops a story or another verse into my heart, and we go from there. I love it! I enjoy preparing as much as I can, surrounding my plans with prayer, and watching God's plan unfold.
Not too long ago, the best lesson came from an error. As one lady stood at the podium, she announced her verse and waited for everyone to find it. After she read a few words, I watched the group as they turned to one another, looking at each other's Bibles, whispering, and becoming increasingly more confused.
"She's reading something different," someone announced, and we realized her mistake. She simply said the wrong verse, which sent the group to one part of the Bible while she read another.
I quickly used the experience. "How did you feel when she told you to find one verse, then read something totally different?" All agreed they thought they had heard the wrong thing, felt mixed up, and couldn’t grasp what was being read because they were trying to figure out what was going on.
"That's what we do to people when we say one thing, then do another. If we instruct others, then live our lives contrary to what we've taught, it brings confusion. Anything we say after that, regardless of how good it is, is lost. I want to remember this the next time I try to tell my children what to do."
The experience reminded me of the time I called my sister, Ann. "Want to meet me at Waffle House?"
"Sure," she said. "I'll be over in a few minutes." And although I said Waffle House, I really meant to say IHOP. I went to IHOP and sat in a booth where I waited and waited, not knowing Ann was enduring the same experience across town at Waffle House. Not much fellowship happens when you send someone in one direction, then take off in another. Once I realized my mistake, Ann and I met and had a great visit.
And once all of the ladies in the Correctional Facility got on the same page, literally, we were able to listen and learn from the speaker.
Practice what you preach is the adage that reverberated in my heart as I drove away that afternoon. And as is often the case, the lesson was as much for me as it was for anyone else in the room that day.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)