Do Not Complain About What You Permit

What do a bonsai tree, moisturizing exfoliator made with salt from the Dead Sea, a photo of the St. Louis Cathedral on a foggy night, and a praline have in common? (I was going to add candied pecans and honey mustard salsa, but I thought the list was already too long.) Give up? All were items  purchased by my daughter, Victoria, during a recent craft show at Oak Alley Plantation.

            Way too soon after our arrival, we were loaded down with merchandise the craft vendors were anxious to part with.  My Mom, sister Ann, daughter Lauren, and granddaughter Adeline were with us, and Adeline's stroller quickly doubled as a shopping cart. Nevertheless, I somehow got stuck with, and by, the bonsai tree. Those little leaves are sharp! But we kept walking.

            Turning the corner, we found a booth filled with wooden signs, yet Victoria and I were drawn to the same one. "Do not complain about what you permit." We talked about it briefly, walked on, and now, days later, those words replay in my mind.

            I've thought about how the simple message applies to raising children, choosing friends, workplace situations, and as I headed out to vote early, I realized it even applies to choices we make at the polls.

            Yes, I vote. As soon as I was of age, I have exercised my civic responsibility to choose the candidate I felt was best for the job. I thought everyone did. I recently researched the topic a little and was surprised to read that 1 in 5 self-professed Christians are not registered to vote, and of those registered, only 60% voted. I wonder if anything would be different if all Christians participated in the voting process. Would abortion still be legal? Would the ban on prayer in schools continue?

            If you haven't seen the movie, Monumental, presented and produced by Kirk Cameron, you can borrow my copy. It traces America's beginning and reveals the true 'national treasure' that made our country great.

            There are many who would like to forget our Godly foundation, and remove the name and principles of God from the public arena. Voting for candidates most likely to preserve the freedoms not afforded in other countries is one small act, which when united with others of like mind, significantly affects our future, and Adeline's.

            And speaking of Adeline, thanks to yet another craft show purchase, we will be able to record her height with a pink princess growth chart. Even though she isn't born yet, I bought one for my granddaughter, Olivia. Over five feet tall, those charts proved to be more awkward to carry than the bonsai tree. I guess the motto, "Do not complain about what you permit," applies to craft show purchases, too.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

and that's the Truth

Decisions. Decisions. Or rather, Monique and Frank's decisions, decisions. There have been scores of them as my daughter and son-in-law plow through the process of bringing their hurricane-flooded home back to live-in condition. Because they are living with me during this restoration, I have the fun of listening to their plans and watching them choose flooring, paint colors, and kitchen cabinets. The very first discussion centered on a certain wall separating the kitchen from the dining room. We all thought it should be removed to create a large, open space. There was only one question. Was it a sustaining wall? If it was necessary to support the structure of their home, removing it would open up the home a little too much.

            Walls, nails, and in my house, super glue are responsible for holding things together. Belts, too. And while the belt on your pants may hold your outfit together, the belt of Truth described in Ephesians 6:14 provides an important function for the Christian.

            The apostle Paul's instruction to the church of Ephesus remains a foundational lesson for us today. To explain spiritual warfare, he chose the analogy of a soldier's armor. The belt was a crucial part of the Roman soldier's armor for it had a place for the sword, strips of leather to protect the lower body, loops for lances, ropes and a rations sack. In addition, the belt held together the other parts of the armor. No soldier would race into battle without his belt. Spiritually speaking, Paul admonished the Christians to wear a belt of Truth.

            So what is Truth? In praying to God, Jesus said in John 17:17, "Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth." God's Word, each and every instruction, commandment, warning and blessing is the Truth. That Truth is what sustains, protects, keeps everything else together, and prepares us for the spiritual battles we face daily. I believe that without Truth, things fall apart and we are rendered helpless. As a belt wraps around a waist, Truth should encompass every part of our lives. 

            Unlike the little wall in Monique and Frank's house which was discovered to be unnecessary, Truth should never be removed from our conversations, schools, government, and every other part of our lives. It's not always easy, and sometimes painful to face, but Jesus said, "the truth will set you free." (John 8:32)

             Monique and Frank are sure to feel free once they are able to get back in their own home, but I will miss them. And that's the truth.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Olivia Renee Roth... we think

My prayers are changing. They still begin almost immediately after I silence the alarm.

            Time Out. Let's stop right here. Who ever named it an alarm clock? The word 'alarm' is defined as "sudden fear caused by the realization of danger." I don't want to be jolted from sleep by fear due to danger. I'd rather receive a phone call greeting, or a gentle nudge, or have the scent from a fresh cup of coffee lure me from my dreams to reality.

            Once in reality, despite my method of entrance, I arrive on the scene grateful for another night spent resting comfortably, and another day filled with opportunities yet to be discovered. My eyes and thoughts race to see which will focus the fastest as I begin to talk to God.

            Because I am easily distracted (see paragraph 2), I have chosen to write down the names and issues I sent to Heaven in prayer. I don't pray out of sudden fear, or even the realization of danger, but because God has granted me the privilege of downloading my heart to Him in prayer.

            The top of my list is Kassidy Terrio. I was teaching first grade in 2006 when Kassidy was diagnosed with cancer. In our morning prayers, the students and I would pray for the little girl whose story touched our hearts. Although I no longer share prayer time with first graders, Kassidy remains in my heart and prayers. Since her diagnosis, this brave young soldier has battled the disease and its two recurrences, and has been in remission for eleven months! Whether or not you are privileged to know Kassidy, I hope you join me in praying for her continued health.

            After I pray for the people in need of healing, I pray for people I know who are looking for jobs, comfort for families still grieving loved ones, and then those expecting babies. And this is where my prayers have recently changed.

            My daughter Monique and her husband Frank are expecting a baby in early February and have elected to find out the gender before the due date. The day after an ultrasound gave them a peek at their baby, the couple gathered a few friends and family members together to reveal the news. On an afternoon that couldn't have been any sunnier, Monique and Frank lifted a lid from a large white box and smiled as pink heart-shaped balloons gently floated to the sky.

            It's a girl! More specifically, Olivia Renee Roth. Olivia, because they like the name, and Renee, in honor of Frank's deceased mother.

            And while you would be correct in suspecting the change in my prayers is the inclusion of the name of my grandchild, that is only half of the story. Twice in the past week, we have received news of women who were given incorrect information during their ultrasounds. One friend, ready to greet her daughter, was surprised with a son. Another went into delivery with visions of blue which had to be quickly replaced with pink. So, when I pray for Olivia Renee, I also pray for the doctor who informed Monique of her gender. If he's wrong, he will need much prayer when he speaks to Monique. I may be the one to sound an alarm for him.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Ready, Set... Slow

I was first in line to welcome the cool fall breeze that blew through last week. I was ready to put on a light jacket for my early morning quiet time on the patio swing. I was anxious to turn on the oven to bake sweet potatoes; and I thought I was prepared to turn off the ceiling fans until I looked up to see what had accumulated since the last time those blades were motionless.

            During the heat of the summer, my ceiling fans work constantly. Only when they wobble or make a noise do I pay attention to those much needed appliances in my home. And only when a fan is still am I able to make the necessary adjustments and clean the blades. As I stood on a chair, armed with a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels, the parallel to my own life was a lot clearer than the glass globes which protect the fan's lights. Maybe you can relate.

            Everyone is busy. You may have to leave your house way too early in the morning and return much too late in the evening. You may be unemployed, yet overworked as you pick up after children or grandchildren, drive carpool, and keep the troops fed and in clean clothes. Or your relentless search for a job may have you drained. I know you have a lot to do, but I want you to stop. That's right. Stop long enough for the wheels in your wonderfully complex, Divinely constructed mind to find rest. Let the blades stop spinning. Walk away from the whirlwind of activity around you for just a moment. Cease from thinking of the next thing you are going to add to that heavy plate you are trying to carry. Ignore the voice that says just one more email response, just one more bill to pay, just two more hours of television. Ready, set, slow. Slow down. Quiet yourself and take a few moments to reflect, assess, and pray, and in the words of the classic railroad crossing sign: Stop, Look, and Listen.

             Even Jesus sought solitude. He left the crowd to grieve the death of John the Baptist. He chose a quiet mountainside to pray to God after a hectic day of teaching, healing, and feeding a multitude with a couple of fish and a few loaves of bread. If spending time alone with God was important to Him, it should be my top priority.

            Only in these quiet moments before God am I recharged. Sometimes He shows me how to become more balanced, or less noisy, or work more effectively. Other times He points to the dirt (wrong ambitions, anger, worry) that has accumulated in my quest to move faster and faster. A few minutes spent before God fills me with strength for my day, peace for my troubles, and direction for my confusion. 

            Regardless of the season, or the season of my life, spending time with God in prayer should begin and end each day. It's much better than cleaning ceiling fans.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

A Decade Ago...

Ten years ago, my daughter, Elise, was diagnosed with lymphoma. She was ten years old.

            As a cancer survivor, I should have been prepared to handle the experience. I wasn’t. Knowing terminology and procedures meant little when I had to enter Elise’s hospital room to tell her she had cancer. I had to dig deep and hold on tightly to my composure when she looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Momma, I don’t want to die.” Then it happened. The depths of grace, peace, and faith I had experienced throughout my own ordeal with cancer guided our conversation. Elise faced her future with calmness, maturity, faith, and tenacity far exceeding her age. An ambulance later transported us for the first of many trips to Children’s Hospital.

My husband was able to be with Elise most of the time, but one rare day he had to be in the office, so I brought her to the hospital for another dose of chemotherapy. On the menu was the drug I had begged the doctors not to administer. It was the one which, years before, made me lose my hair, and everything I ate or drank. It was the one that caused severe burns on my hands and feet. So severe I couldn’t even pick my hair up off of the pillowcase.  So severe I had to crawl to the bathroom on my knees when I became sick.

As the nurse donned her thick protective gloves and connected the chemicals to my daughter, I began to crumble inside. I watched the red liquid enter my baby’s body, and fought for control over both my emotions and the contents of my stomach. Then I raced to the exit door, ran out of the building, and called my husband to desperately cry, “I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.”

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Michael said.

“No,” I insisted. “It’ll be over before you get here. Just pray. Promise me you’re praying. Promise me you won’t stop praying.” Being fully aware of my frailty has taught me to lean heavily on my Jesus, and the words of 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.”

I re-entered the room, and if Elise noticed anything odd about my behavior, she never expressed it. That night, she became ill and a few days later, I found chunks of her hair in the bathroom garbage can. Soon after, she ditched the wig, and began wearing her brother’s baseball cap to cover her scalp.

“How do people go through this without Jesus?” she asked. It is one of many questions for which I have no answer. I cannot imagine going through anything without leaning on the strength of my Savior.

This past week, I accompanied Elise, now in her fourth year of college, to her yearly checkup at Children's. I dropped her off at the entrance, found a parking spot, then joined her in the waiting room. No longer led by me, my strong and independent daughter spent the day before her 21^st birthday filling out forms, leading the way to the heart scan, almost sprinting to the lab for blood work, then bringing me back to the clinic to meet with her doctor.

But our yearly visit to Children's is about so much more than forms and tests and doctors. It's about returning to the sights and the smells that instantly bring me back a decade. It's about feeling my heart fill to the top with gratitude for present health, humility at the thought of God's deliverance, and pain for the parents pushing wheelchairs, holding infants, and adjusting caps covering precious little bald heads. And it's about allowing the tears to flow as I pray for those I know still battling sickness and for these new little faces who have found a place in my heart.

Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com

Looking Like Ann

A few spots of skin cancer in the past provide ample motivation to keep my appointments with the dermatologist. Last week I expected a quick visit and a good report. What I didn't expect was a case of mistaken identity.

            He walked into the room, greeted me, and looked at my chart. He looked at me again, this time clearly puzzled, and said, "I'll be right back. I have the wrong chart"

            I glanced at my name on the chart and said, "No, that's my chart."

            "Are you sure? Aren't you Mrs. Watson?"

            If only I had a tank of gas for every time I heard that. "That's my sister," I explained.

            "Are y'all twins?" he asked.

            "No, but we are often mistaken for each other even though Ann is younger, thinner, and cuter."

            I should be used to this confusion. A clerk at the grocery store once said, "You changed your shirt."

            "What?" I asked.

            "You were just in here wearing a different shirt." And once again I had to explain it was my sister.

            Ann's co-workers and my husband's friends have also been baffled, as well as our parents who cannot tell our voices apart on the phone. Looking and sounding like Ann is effortless, but I would really have to work at having her patience, kindness, and thoughtfulness.  

            And while I'm listing qualities to emulate, I must look at the character of Christ. If I am to follow Paul's instructions in Ephesians 5:1 to be an imitator of God, I should study His word, hear His heart, and live by His example. Overwhelming? Yes! At least for me it is until I break it down and realize I just need to start with what Jesus said. " Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it. Love your neighbor as yourself."

            That will surely keep me busy! The time will just fly by. Before I am ready, three weeks will pass and I'll be back at the dermatologist for my follow-up. Would it be wrong to send Ann in my place?

Hurricane Isaac

My daughter Monique and her husband Frank now share our home, and that's a good thing. We love their company although we don't often see them. Between working at their jobs and working on their house, they are always going somewhere. I tried to cheer her up by suggesting that at least this very hectic time in their young marriage will cause her pregnancy to fly by. She is less amused by that than she is by the early morning commentary Frank and I provide as we discuss world events. She groans when we tell her we are going to start our own show, and she doesn't even appreciate Frank's suggestion of the title: Wake Up, America.

            What Monique does appreciate is spending more time with her niece, Adeline. As far as Adeline is concerned, Monique and Frank are just two more people available to spoil her. And two more voices to protest the enormous hair bows her mother, Lauren, forces her to wear. Whether Adeline is going to church or to the zoo or staying home with me, Lauren places a bow on her head.

            Time must have stood still for Lauren recently as she dressed Adeline for the day, then called to me with a voice filled with urgency, "I can't find Adeline's lime green bow!"

            I wanted to respond, "And there are people in Frenier who can't find their houses, others who are forced to toss out everything they own, and children whose worlds have changed overnight." Instead I just looked at Addi, who just sat there smiling, perhaps at the thought of her first bowless day.

            Lauren's frustration over a lost bow was no match for what I've been feeling concerning my community. The job of rebuilding seems enormous and I've found myself daily burdened by the needs. Rather than compile a list of the things I am incapable of doing to help, like installing sheetrock and laying ceramic tile, I've decided to do the tiny things that I can. A little cleaning here, a little cooking there, and in between it all, a whole lot of prayer. Even as I hold my grandbaby on my lap, I move her bow to the side so I can see her smile as I pray and ask God to form a healthy, prosperous future for us all. The promise of Galatians 6:9 has never seemed more appropriate than now as I trust God to reward all who labor now just for themselves, but for their friends and neighbors in need. "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

            P.S. Lauren must have found that lime green bow. Sorry, Addi, I'll hide the next one in a better spot