It Takes More Than Two to Tango

I tried to tango with an antique radio cabinet; however, things did not turn out the way I had envisioned them. See, I was excited about getting this non-working antique. It was free, and free is always good when you're decorating on a budget. And I knew that a little white paint would transform the tired and ugly old thing into something worth having.

Nevertheless, the poor piece sat in my kitchen for about two years untouched.

Finally, last summer, inspiration and motivation hit me hard, and I knew what had to be done. I went to the laundry room in search of white spray paint. Great! Found three cans of the miracle-working potion. My mission was getting off to a successful start.

But because the seemingly, one-ton radio was still attached to the inside of the cabinet and because no one was at home to help me, I had to figure out how to move the monster by myself.

Did I hear a little voice inside me telling me not to proceed with this project and that probably I should wait for my darlin' hub to get home so that he could help me? Yes, I heard that voice, and yes, I ignored it. And puhpuhleeze, sweet girl, don't tell me that you would have listened.

You see, inspiration and motivation lead to creativity, and I just couldn't stop. Could I?

So, I took two pairs of socks and put one sock on each leg of the cabinet. Then I turned and twisted and tangoed, and I managed to slide the cabinet across the hardwood floors from the kitchen through the dining room right up to the French doors that open to the deck. Problem solved!

Right? Wrong.

By picking up one corner of the cabinet at a time, I did get it over the doorsill and onto the deck. But even with the socks, I couldn't move the cabinet across the rough planks. I took the socks off. Still stuck. Plus, I realized there was no way possible that I maneuver the piece down the steps and into the yard so that I could paint it.

But I had made it this far and was unwilling to admit defeat. I retrieved a drop cloth aka old sheet and spread it out on the deck.

Then I began to paint. Looking good so far. The sun went down. I wasn't finished so I turned on the porch light. Left the cabinet outside to dry overnight. The next morning, I walked outside to check my handiwork. Not bad. But as I picked up the sheet, I saw something horrifying.

An eerie, milky film covered part of the deck. I had ruined the beautiful deck that my darlin' hub had just a month before power washed and restained.

I felt so bad about what I did. Why didn't I wait for someone to help me? I dreaded telling him what I had done. I dreaded his response.

When he got home, I showed him the deck and explained what happened. I expected to hear him say What were you thinking? You know you shouldn't have attempted this project by yourself. I worked so hard on this deck and look at what you've done.

That's what I deserved to hear.

But that's not what he said. Instead, he looked at the deck. Then he looked at me, and he had the sweetest expression on his face. Kind. Compassionate. Forgiving.

He said, "It'll be all right until it's time to stain again." He took my hand, and we walked back into the house.

Now, my man is certainly not perfect, but to me he sure seemed to be close that evening. He chose kindness over harshness and forgiveness over anger.

And you know, He's never mentioned my mistake. He's never reminded me that it takes more than two to tango, especially if one of your partners is an antique radio cabinet.

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you (Ephesians 4:32).

Sweet dreams,

Deb

I Flunked Blogging 101

I flunked Blogging 101. You've probably figured that out since it's been forever since I last posted or visited any blogs.

Well, I'm not accustomed to getting F's, and I don't like to quit. And I'm tired of being an on again off again blogger. So last night, I decided to stop blogging altogether and just publish one final post to bring closure to my feeble attempts at writing.

And then this morning before I left for work, I read some verses from Psalm 52:

I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise you forever for what You have done; in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good (8b-9a).

Did you read the part about trusting in God's unfailing love--His really amazing love--that never disappoints us--never leaves us? Did you notice the part about hoping in His name--His good name--His sweet name?

I did.

And while I don't understand why writing is so hard for me right now, I'm not going to ditch this dream.

I'm going to hang on because I really do trust in His unfailing love. I have put my hope in His name. Savior. Prince of Peace. King of Kings. Lord of Lords. Jesus. Giver of Dreams.

Why Didn't God Just Send O?

Well, the Christmas holidays are over. During the last two weeks, I stayed up way past my bedtime and slept late almost every morning. I shopped a lot, hoping to find just the right gifts for my family. I went to a few parties--ate way, way too much--and exercised not at all. We took the tree down and put it and all of the ornaments and decorations in the attic.

Christmas has come and gone.

A new year is here. I have proof:

I stepped on the scale this morning. Oh, my goodness! That hurt.

I went back to work today--resumed my normal routine, but I'm still dwelling in Christmas past. I keep wondering if Christmas was really necessary. Did Jesus have to be born?

Was there another way?

Why didn't God just send O? Surely, she could meet most of our needs, and all of our problems would disappear--right?

For example, I'm thinking that if I had a little more money, life would be so much easier, and I would be a happier person. How about you? Would a bit of exra cash make things moe manageable at your casa? Well, O is a phenomenal philanthropist. She could contribute generously to my bank account and maybe deposit some in yours. And, wahlah! We could do the happy dance.

But possibly money isn't the answer that will make life work for us. Maybe we simply want to feel better about ourselves. We want excitement, adventure, success . Most importantly, we want to justify getting whatever it is that we want. Not a problem. O is one of the most popular philosophers in our country. Millions of people watch her show and purchase her magazine. And if she doesn't have the answer that you're looking for, one of the psychologists or counselors or whoever else she may feature on her show will certainly point you in the direction that you desire to take.

Ok, I'm listening. So feeling good about ourselves may not be the solution to our problems either. What if all that's necessary is to change the way that we look? If we could only have a few procedures done--like nip, tuck, lift--then we would look super-model cool. But how could O help? She's not a physician. No, but she could send us to the best surgeon in the world and pay for all expenses. I'm thinking that a shopping spree would be in order too.

Sweet girl, you know I'm kidding with you about God sending O.

God had to send Jesus. O and people like her may do good deeds, but they cannot address our real problems and needs.

See, our real problem is sin. I'm a sinner. You're a sinner. Our real need is for a Savior. We are sinners, and we need a Savior who can take care of our sin problem.

"For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord" (Luke 2:11).

Jesus Christ is that Savior!

Philanthropists, philosophers, and physicians can't save us. Only Jesus can do that.

And that's why God sent Jesus. And that's why we need Christmas.

We need a Savior.

God knew that no one else would do.

Not even O.

In 2011

Hi, Happy New Year! I want to thank you for sticking with me in 2010. When I stopped blogging for a few months, you continued to leave comments and to send E-mails. You prayed for me, and I so appreciate all of the prayers and the encouraging words.

I read a verse this morning that I'm offering as prayer for you.

It goes like this:

The LORD will fulfill His purpose for me; Your love, O LORD, endures forever--do not abandon the works of Your hands (Psalm 138:8).

May our loving God work in your life each day of this new year to bring His plan and His purpose for you into reality. I pray that as He works, you will experience His holy presence, His peace, and His power. I pray that you will know the truth: You are the work of His hands. No matter what has happened in the past. No matter what 2011 brings. He will never abandon you. Will never leave you.

Here's to more of Him in our lives in 2011!

Make Some Noise

I heard the story of two men--one Jewish and one not Jewish. They sat in the living room of the Jewish man's house. The friends heard the sounds of singing and music coming from a church across the street.

The Jewish man's friend asked, "Doesn't this singing and music annoy you? I mean you're Jewish and they're Christians. Don't you wish that they would stop making so much noise?"

The Jewish man pondered the question for a moment before answering.

He said, "No. The singing and the music don't annoy me. I don't want them to stop. You see, they believe that their Messiah has come, and they're worshipping him. And if I thought that my Messiah had come, there's no power on earth that could make me stop."

Oh, I've got good news: Messiah has come!

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the One who has been born king of the Jews? We saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him" (Matthew 2:1-2).

The Messiah's name is Jesus, God's Son. He is the Promised One. The Anointed One. God with us.

He is the Savior of both Jews and Gentiles.

He is worthy of our love and our devotion.

Let's worship Him today and everyday, and may no power on earth stop us.

Let's make some noise!

Merry Christmas, sweet girl.

Khaki Makes Me Happy

Recently, I made an important discovery: Khaki makes me happy. See, we've lived in our current house for eight years, and we've painted the dining room four times. First, we painted the walls a soft shade of off-white. Not bad, but still the room seemed underdressed, like wearing a flimsy dress without a slip.

Not that I've ever worn a flimsy dress without a slip. And not that I think you have either. I'm just trying to describe my dining room so that you can see how it lacked something.

So, about a year later, we--ok, actually I--decided that we needed to repaint. I chose a gorgeous, traditional red. I loved the color! The room was transformed into a warm, inviting, and dramatic space. I determined then that I would always have a red room in my house.

But of course, you know how that kind of thing goes....

Yeah, after a few years, I changed my mind about the red.

For some reason, the color grew dark and overwhelming. Definately claustrophobic. Now, I can deal with a lot of things, but a depressing room isn't one of them. The only cure that I could think of involved painting again.

Don't you agree with this remedy, sweet girl? Because, like, all of the decorators say that the cheapest and quickest way to change the look of a room is to paint. Right?

Well, my darlin' husband didn't exactly agree with us. He said something about how he didn't care what the decorators say. Paint is not cheap, and there's no such thing as a quick fix, he said. Painting is hard work, makes a mess, and takes time. Then you have to touch up the trim.

Besides, he didn't see anything wrong with the room the way it was--manic red and all.

However...

... because he indulges me way more than he should, we painted. Don't you love a man like that? I so love mine.

We painted once more. Now, since it was summer, I was displaying my seashells--some sand dollars and starfish--and we had been to Miami, even drove down to Key West--so, I was definately in a beach state of mind.

Maybe that's why I chose blue.

Or, maybe it's because I saw a picture of a blue room in a magazine and thought it was way cool.

Plus, blue is my favorite color.

In retrospect, I'm really not sure why I chose blue.

My darlin' even asked are you sure you want blue?

Yes, I said. I'm sure I want blue.

Well, we went blue.

Oh, my goodness! How could I have known? Blue is a t-r-i-c-k-y c-o-l-o-r. I mean red is deceitful--I knew from past experience to beware of red--but blue? Innocent blue. No, not at all. Blue is like way tricky. The trickiest color ever.

It looked so awful that during Thanksgiving week, my darlin' hub suggested that we go to the paint store.

This time, with my man's blessing, I selected khaki. Sound. Solid. Soothing. The black furniture pops. The white trim pops. The color works. He's satisfied.

And, I'm loving the room.

Seems that all it took to make us both happy was a simple color like khaki.

Kinda sad that I had to learn the hard way that it's the simple things that bring true happiness. Simple colors. Simple things. Like spending time with my family. Watching two little girls' first dance recital. Cleaning my house.

Yes, I know the last phrase sounds crazy, but cleaning and organizing really do make me happy.

Reading God's word also makes me happy.

So, I'd like to share this verse with you:

The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul. The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple (Psalm 19: 7-8b).

May the simplicity of His word bring wisdom and happiness and joy to you, sweet girl, during this Christmas season.

It's Our Choice

She stumbled out of the doctor's office that day, feeling like she had just received a death sentence. See, Leigh's dad died of a heart attack when he was only thirty five, and she was about that age when she got diagnosed with high blood pressure. The doctor wrote her a prescription and said she would be fine as long as she took the medication--probably for the rest of her life.

She felt the sting.

My friend could have let that diagnosis cripple her, but she didn't. Her mother said, "Leigh, you can sit around the house worrying about this, or you can live and have fun and love your family. It's your choice."

That was two years ago. Leigh took her mom's advice. She made some good choices about exercise and nutrition and discipline. Leigh no longer needs medication because she no longer has high blood pressure.

I wonder if you've ever felt the sting of a death sentence. Maybe the sting came, like Leigh's did, in the form of a dreaded diagnosis. Or, maybe, you experienced the sting of death in a relationship. A marriage. A career. Or a dream.

I've sure felt that kind of sting before. Well, truthfully, I'm feeling it pretty strong right now. But you know, we're not the only ones who have dealt with a death sentence.

This guy named Paul can so relate to us. I mean he went through some bad stuff. Like being shipwrecked and beaten up and put in prison a few times.

He suffered so much that he thought there was no hope and no way out and no way through. He wrote these words: Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death (2 Corinthians 1:9a).

Yeah, I think if Paul were alive today, he might commiserate with us a little bit because he's been there and done that. And I think that he would remind us of a promise that he chose to believe. Paul penned these words:

But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will continue to deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will continue to deliver us (2 Corinthians 1: 9b - 10).

Paul chose to remember how God had delivered him in the past. He chose to believe that God would deliver him again. He chose hope over helplessness.

Sweet girl, we can learn from Paul. He didn't sit around the house worrying and fretting and getting in a tizzy about his situation. I don't think that we should either. Yes, it's tempting to shut others out--to shut down. A sting hurts.

The sting of a death sentence hurts real bad.

But our loving God has promised to deliver us from death's sting. He sent His only Son, the Promised One, as proof that He could deliver the promise in full.

It's our choice. We can choose to live and have fun and love our families and believe. And have hope. [And write]. Or we can choose to let our spirit and our heart atrophy.

I so love these words:

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10: 23).

Paul, the guy who felt the sting of a death sentence in his heart, wrote this verse. Don't you love it? The One who made the promise keeps His promise. Always. Always, sweet girl. I wish that I could sit beside you, and we would read over and over He who promised is faithful. He who promised is faithful.

He who promised is faithful.

And while we may still feel the sting, together we would choose to believe and to hope.

And we would say we will hold unswervingly to the hope we profess.

Because He who promised is faithful.

Our loving God.

He promised.

And He is faithful.