In Troubled Times...

I'm troubled today. My heart aches. Deeply. I want to weep...or rage. My spirit struggles within to rest in God. To hold to His promises of care and provision. But then the sorrow hits again, and I have to stop. Regroup. Wrestle with myself and Him.

What, you may ask, triggered this battle?

A dear friend in trouble. A man of God, whom I've known most of my life, being accused of a heinous act. Falsely accused. And yet, what he's suffered at the hands of our "justice" system tears at me. Gnaws at my gut like tiny dribbles of acid.

This is so wrong.

I want God to show Himself. To bring out the truth. HIS truth. To send avenging angels upon the one who brings such lies to destroy a life devoted to faith and family. I want...

Revenge.

And even as I type that, tears sting. My throat closes.

I am ashamed.

Ashamed of my anger, though in the world's eyes, it's certainly justified. Ashamed of my thirst for this accuser's demise, though again, the world would rise up and applaud if it happened. And as much as I want to cheer on any calamity headed the accuser's way, I know I can't allow myself to do so. Because, you see, I don't belong to the world.

I belong to a Holy God, One who has called me to pray. For my friend. For his family.

And for his accuser.

I will never understand why this has come into this man's life. Why he had to be so wounded, so damaged by unfounded and unjust words. I'll never understand why some heavenly hand didn't reach down and cover him, stopping the disaster before it struck. But my understanding isn't what matters.

My obedience, however, is.

And so even as I sit here, writing this, trying to find some measure of peace, I throw myself on God's mercy. Beg Him for help. For strength. For the desire to respond as He calls, not as the world condones. Amazing, isn't it, how the world's ways appeal in the face of injustice. But true justice, justice that will stand for eternity, will come from God's hand. In His way. In His timing. Until then, we, His children, can only take our petitions to Him. Petitions for ourselves. For those falsely accused.

And for those so wounded that they let lies become truth and pain become weapons.

Please, join me in praying for this situation. Pray for this man. For his family. And for his accuser. Pray for God's will.

For that is all that will save us in whatever we face in this troubled, troubling world.

I leave you with this...

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord:

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him.

For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease.

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings.

His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,
nor the arrow that flies in the day.
Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday...

If you make the Lord your refuge,
if you make the Most High your shelter,
no evil will conquer you...

For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone...

The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer;

I will be with them in trouble.
I will rescue and honor them.
I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.

Psalm 91 selection

May it be so, Lord Jesus.

Karen

Is This Year Over Yet??

Man. What a year. In January I had a bad bite from our Siberian husky, Bodhan, when he got hit by a car. February, pneumonia. April (I think...), I fell off a ladder and broke a rib, which took 8 weeks to heal. (Anyone writing books who plans to have your characters break a rib, feel free to ask me for details. I will never again have a character with broken ribs do things like run, stand, move...breathing is about it, and even that's excruciating). So here I was, almost the end of August, so tickled nothing else had happened.

Yeah. Well. You knew that couldn't last, right?

Okay, so there's this little guy, Brendan, about 6 years old, I think, who lives in the house behind us. And his friend, Corey, who is around 9 or 10. They've been coming over to pet the dogs. Last week they brought their Golden retriever over to play with our doggies. (No, that's not the bad thing that happened. Hey, Goldens are just happy to be at the party. They get along with most everyone.) A few days ago, the boys knock at the back gate and ask if they can come pet the dogs. Brendan also tries to convince me to let them go swimming, but with my luck, they'd drown. So I've been good about saying no.

Brendan also has been asking if he can bring his 2-yr-old Jack Russell, Turk, over to meet the dogs. Knowing Jack Russells are fairly territorial and can be a bit aggressive, I've said no. Until last Thursday. For some stupid reason, I said, "Sure, bring him over."

Okay, pop quiz: What happens when you bring an unfamiliar terrier into a yard with three bigger dogs, two of whom can be a bit...pushy?

Well, if you're someone smart, like the Dog Whisperer (I love that show!), nothing serious. But if you're someone like me, who knows better but lets herself be swayed by a pleading kid...well...read on.

Brendan got Turk and brought him in the back gate. Now, did I introduce him to the dogs one at a time? Nooooo. That would have been too smart. Instead, I took his leash and brought him on it, with all three of our dogs rushing to see who the new kid was.

Dakota did great.
Kodi and Dasha? Not so much. They both got pushy, nipping at the little guy's neck. Then they started to press down on his neck, trying to push him to the ground.

Pop quiz #2: How did I get bit in January, when our sweet 14-yr-old Siberian, Bo, was hit by a car? By reaching in to take hold of a panicked dog in pain. You'd think I'd learn, huh?

You know where this is going, don't you?

So I scooped Turk up and started to walk over to hand him to Brendan. Just as I did so, one of my dogs (I didn't see which one) jumped up and nipped at Turk. In typical Jack-Russell fashion, he arched backward and snapped, catching my face. His top teeth hit my left cheekbone (I felt it), the bottom ones caught my cheek. He bit twice before I could turn away. I dropped him, slapped my hand to the bites to stem any flow of blood--both for my sake and for the boys'--and hollered for my dad, who, thank heaven, was sitting on the swing. He corralled our dogs while I gave the now snarling Turk to the boys and told them to take him home. And that they shouldn't scold him, because he was just doing what terriers do when they're frightened. That it was my fault, not his.

I got an ice pack for my punctured, bleeding face, then as Dad drove me to the ER, I called my hubby, Don, who is a security guard at the hospital. He alerted the ER folks so that they were actually standing in the waiting area ready for me when I walked in. Three and a half hours--and a tetanus shot and bites irrigation--later, I'd finally finished filling out enough paperwork to choke a horse and could be discharged.

When I got home I went to the neighbor's house to tell her they didn't need to worry. She saw me walking toward the house and came rushing out, threw her arms around me, and cried, "Are you okay? I'm so sorry!" I explained what happened, that it was my fault, and not to think about it again.

So here's my dog-bit face. Nice, huh?

As you can see, the bites weren't too terrible. Especially compared to the bites I had from Bo in January. Thankfully, I seem to be healing okay. I'm still tender on the left side of my face. If I squint, it's uncomfortable. But I haven't had a black eye, which the doc said I most likely would. (Darn it! I thought that would be fun...)

So, the moral of the story? (No, it's not "Put Karen in a padded room where she can't do herself in.")

Trust your instincts. God uses our life experiences to teach us--and, I believe, to caution us. I had cautions flying from the get go, but did I listen? Naaaah. I knew better than to bring a terrier into the mix of our dogs. Knew better than to introduce a new dog to all of our dogs at once. Knew better than to pick up the frightened terrier. But I did it all anyway. I'm lucky it was me who got bit and not one of the kids. Or that my dogs didn't do damage to the terrier.

So when you're considering an action and feel that tug inside, that bit of warning that says it's not a great idea, listen. God gives those checks in our spirit for a reason. And next time, by His grace, I'm gonna pay attention.

Peace, all.

Karen

If It's Friday, I Must Be In...

Seattle!

That beautiful Emerald City, that land of Starbucks (YUM!) ,
the Space Needle,
and a big, honkin' mountain everyone says is there. Somewhere. Behind the mist...

Why, you may ask, am I in Seattle? Wasn't this supposed to be my two-month stretch at home? Well, yes. But a funny thing happened on my way to staying home...

Before I get into that, though, let me tell you what my Dad and I are doing. Dad loves checking things out on the internet in the morning, seeing what fascinating tidbits of news and life have happened. A few weeks ago he came across the following site: www.acomplaintfreeworld.org. Seems a pastor got tired of hearing his church members complain about things that weren't important, so he started this campaign to eliminate complaining. He had these cool purple wrist bands made up and got his congregation to agree to go 21 days without complaining or using sarcasm.

That's right. Twenty-one days. In a row.

If you slip, you switch the band to the other wrist and start over. Took some folks TWO YEARS to go 21 days in a row, but they finally made it. Well, I've realized lately that I'm becoming more and more of a whiner, so Dad and I decided to give it a try. We ordered our wrist bands and waited anxiously for them to arrive.

And waited.

And waited.

Mind you, I wasn't complaining. But come on! How long is this going to take???

Okay, if I'd been wearing the band, it would have had to go to the other wrist. But the day finally came when the package showed up, and we happily slipped the bands on. Competitive soul that I am, I just knew I could do this. And I did!

For about a half hour. Until I had to wait for a customer service person on the phone. Service?? Hardly. They hire these people who can't even speak English and make you wait twelve hours...! Oh. Yeah. I guess that's a complaint.

Off went the band to the other wrist. And then, a few hours later, back to the wrist where it started. And back again another hour or so later...

Okay. I admit it. I had to switch the silly thing about a gazillion times in the first few days. But a cool thing started to happen. I started to pay more attention to my attitude, and found myself stopping the complaints or sarcasm before they launched. I made it a day without slipping. Then two. Then five. I've made it 11 days so far, and it's getting to be really fun. What's more, I've discovered I'm focusing more on the good things. I mean, why focus on the bad when you can't snark about it? What fun is that?

So, there I was, sitting in my office last Wednesday, when my phone rang. The frantic voice on the other end turned out to be Athena Dean. She was calling about the Northwest Christian Writers' Renewal conference. A speaker had backed out at the last moment, and would I, pretty please, consider filling in?

Oh, by the way, the conference starts in a week.

I told Athena I'd have to talk it over with my hubby, and hung up. I called him...and almost slipped again! It was on the tip of my tongue to complain about people who cancel things at the last minute and negatively impact others. But I caught a glimpse of the bright purple on my wrist (good thing that pastor chose a bright color!) and stopped my tongue in its tracks. Instead, I just discussed it with Don and we decided it would be a good thing to help out.

So one week later, here I am, sitting in yet another hotel room. But it's okay. I'm not complaining. I'm really not. My flight today was good. I even got a little writing done on my new series. And I had a nice dinner at Olive garden, conveniently located right across the street from my hotel. What's more, I'm looking forward to seeing the folks at the conference tomorrow.

So it's on to a new adventure, but lately with a far more positive outlook. Thanks to a pastor who had a great idea, and a bright purple band around my wrist. Tomorrow is day 12.

Wish me luck!

Karen

Hope LIVES!

It's been a tough couple of weeks. I've been struggling with some deep issues and, quite frankly, they've been kicking my you-know-what. God's sense of irony is so...ironic. I mean, here are the lyrics to a trio I sang in church a week ago or so:

"How long has it been since you woke with the dawn and felt that the day's worth the living..."

Ummm...too long.

The weather lately hasn't helped. Loads of rain. Overcast skies. Gray, gray, gray. Perfect for my mood of late.

Then, this morning, I walked outside while on a phone call to a dear friend whose mother recently died. I was deep in thought, listening to her, thrown back to my own mom's death by my friend's words and pain, when I glanced down--and was met with this sight...



................................................................................and this one...

and this...

Suddenly, it was as though scales fell from my eyes and heart, and delight swept through me. My crocuses are here! Not just here, but blooming!! I looked up, and realized the sky was as clear as a child's smile and blue, blue, blue. And the sun was shining, sending warmth cascading down onto my upturned face.

Spring has come. Oh! Spring has come again! Just when I thought the gray skies wouldn't go away, when I let my heart grow so heavy with all the "stuff" I've been agonizing over, when I was so sure I'd never feel light again, spring snuck in, spread it's arms, and blessed the day with color and fragrance and warmth.

That's just like God. We get all caught up in whatever is dragging us down, tangled in the cords of sorrow or discontent or fear until we're sure we'll drown--and then suddenly realize Someone has reached out and taken hold of us. Not just that, but He's lifting us from the frigid, suffocating depths and setting our feet on the rock-solid ground of His love, peace, and provision.

The struggles aren't over. I know that. But today, for this moment, I'm smiling. Because those little flowers, poking their heads out of what yesterday was cold, dead earth, remind me it's never as bleak as it seems. God is always there, working just beneath the surface, bringing about growth and restoration and rebirth.

May your day be filled with God's surprises...


Karen

The Love List

Wow. Psalm 119 has been hitting me left and right. This morning I was skewered by this verse:

"Look down upon my sorrows and rescue me, for I have not forgotten Your laws." (119:153)

I had a not so great morning today, thanks to friction between me and my dh...my dh and I...oh, you know what I mean! Thing is, I never doubt we love each other, and there are times we have a lot of fun (as the picture will attest). But we sure seem to spend a lot of time irritated at one another. I hate that. Hate the way it makes me feel, the way I let it make me act. So I go, muttering to myself, from our little exchange (which, let's be honest, was mostly my fault) and sit down in my comfy chair with my perfect, soft lighting and read the line above. Now, you might think I was all encouraged: Oh, thank You, Lord! You'll rescue me.

Not so much. Because what struck my spirit wasn't that God was going to pluck me from my sorrows, but that next bit. The line that's kind of a quiet little offbeat: "For I have not forgotten Your laws."

Ah. Yes. God's laws.


When things get dark and difficult, which is how it so often feels even if they haven't (what can I say? David and I share a like mind: we whine!), if I just remember God's laws, I can endure. More than that, I can find rescue.

Rescue. Being a word person I hopped on over to Webster to check that out. Rescue means set free from evil or harm. Delivered. Liberated. Legally, it means to be removed forcibly from someone's custody.

I need to be rescued. From me. From my tendency to forget God's laws and fall into a willfully critical spirit. From the custody of the flesh.

So what are God's laws? Hey, I'm no theologian, but I think Luke 10:26-28 is pretty clear, specifically where it says: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind.’ And, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Do that, Christ tells us, and you will live.

Okay, my still somewhat irritated mind says, so how does one do that? (Mind you, I don't ask because I don't know, but because I need to be reminded. Again.) So over to 1 Corinthians 13, and I wrote out Karen's version of the Love list:

• Be patient
• Be kind
• Don't be jealous or boastful, proud or rude
• Don't demand your own way. (Ouch!)
• Don't be irritable. (Double ouch!!)
• Don't keep a record of wrongs (Okay, fine...I've blown this big time lately...)
• Rejoice in the truth's victories, not in in justice.
• Never give up! (So much for thinking weariness or day after day of dealing with the same issues excuses my wrong responses...)
• Never lose faith! (I didn't lose it. Not really. Just kind of got my focus off of it for awhile...Dope.)
  
• Always be full of hope (Always. Not when everything's going well, but always.)
  
• Always endure

Okaaaayyyy.....talk about your tall orders. And it's not like this is an option. Loving God's way isn't an option. So as I read the list over, I had to admit there was just one question.

Will I choose to obey?

If I do, RESCUE! Not because I've earned it, but because living God's way has consequences: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And not living God's way? Not loving His way?

Oh, yeah. Consequences galore. I should know, I've been experiencing a number of them lately. Frustration. Irritability. Self-f0cus. Self-pity. Self-righteousness. Self, self, selfselfselfself.

Bleah. These consequences I can do without.

So what now? I choose. For this day, in this moment, I choose to obey. And to help myself to that, because I know my steel sponge of a mind and my oh-so-stubborn self, I've printed out the love list above and stuck it to my computer. And a kitchen cupboard. And my bathroom mirror. Even in my car. (Make that especially in my car!) To remind my heart, mind, and soul that there's a better way to live and love.

All I have to do is choose.