Monthly Archives: November 2013

Freedom From Want

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Our Father in Heaven,
We give thanks for the pleasure
Of gathering together for this occasion.

We give thanks for this food

Prepared by loving hands.
We give thanks for life,
The freedom to enjoy it all
And all other blessings.
As we partake of this food,
We pray for health and strength
To carry on and try to live as You would have us.
This we ask in the name of Christ,
Our Heavenly Father.


– Harry Jewell

Thanksgiving

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We are entering the week of the Thanksgiving holiday. I know we’ll all be busy shopping, cooking, cleaning and traveling in preparation for Thursday.

I wanted to take this time to express my thanks to all of you who have supported me in my blog adventures for the last six months. When I decided to start a blog, I think I had a headache every day. Designing the site, trying to figure out what to say (I’m still doing that!), uploading photos, joining blog-hops…it was all so overwhelming.

And every time I’d push “publish” on post, I’d hold my breath. Is this any good? Will anyone come to read it? Will anyone comment?

And now, six months later, I still have the occasional migraine over writing. But I am constantly humbled and blessed by your support and presence here. I named the blog ‘Evangelize To Me’ because I wanted to learn from you as much as I wanted to write. Your insightful comments have added new ideas about post content, cited Scripture references, made me laugh, and added your own life experiences.

And that’s the best thing of all. When you relate some of your life to me, I get to know you better. I love that. We all have such important stories to share, and they announce the presence of the Lord in everyday life.

Thank you for joining me here. I am so grateful for every single visit. I love to see your smiling faces through the photos and your special icons in the ‘join this site’ section. But whether you are there or joining me on Bloglovin’ or by email, know that I pray for all of you. And I know that God will hear me and bless you for the kindness you have shown and the blessing you have been.

When Thanksgiving Day comes, and I count my blessings, you all will be on that list. You are on notice though…you can never leave! Let’s promise to always evangelize to each other, and prove that God magnifies himself in us every day.



SHOUTS and Whispers

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Scene One
Driving down the highway at 70 mph, I see the brake lights on the car ahead of me. For a few anxious seconds, I don’t think I can stop in time. Finally jerking to a complete stop, I look up to see an ocean of red brake lights ahead of me.

MY MIND SHOUTS : START HONKING YOUR HORN! BLAME EVERYONE FOR YOUR NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE!

My soul whispers : Give thanks for your deliverance from a collision. Pray for the ones three miles up the road who didn’t get that gift of safety.

Scene Two

I don’t know why, but at 12:30 am, I’m awake. Knowing my child is out on a date and should have been home at midnight, I wonder if I missed the required “Wake me when you get home” shoulder shove.

Getting up, I make my way to the next room. Empty bed. After waiting twenty nervous minutes in the living room, my wayward child comes through the door.

MY MIND SHOUTS : WHY ARE YOU LATE? WHY DID YOU MAKE ME WORRY LIKE THIS? HOW COULD YOU BE SO IRRESPONSIBLE?

My soul whispers : Your child stopped to help a friend who was drinking get home safely. Wait calmly to hear this miraculous story of love of neighbor.

Scene Three

I promised myself that I will get up early and complete twenty minutes on the exercise bike. Early morning is best. That way I won’t forget, or run out of time during the day.

The alarm goes off. It’s so cold! I’m surprised by how the chilly the air is in my room. With the shades drawn tight, the room is pitch dark.

MY MIND YELLS : STAY IN BED! GET SOME EXTRA REST, YOU WERE UP LATE LAST NIGHT. IT’S TOO COLD TO GET UP THIS EARLY! ONE SKIPPED DAY WON’T HURT ANYTHING!

My soul whispers : Trials come and trials go. Meet the dark and chill with the resolve that I give you. Come and play with me. You will be blessed.

The Path of Peace

Have you ever noticed how mouthy that inner voice is? Kicking out opinions like a bubble blower, its volume seems to increase with each passing minute. And so reactive! And what are the goals of this bellowing voice?


“How can I make sure everyone knows my opinion?”


“I’m always right.”


“The loudest one wins.”



It’s so easy for me to default to the loudest voice.
Striving to both be at peace, and be a peacemaker, is not an easy process. The road is winding, the gate is narrow. Abandoning that first, knee-jerk reaction, takes a stubborn willingness to take a breath and find the truth behind what I see.

So the next time my inner self ‘goes off’ at some slight, I’ve got to challenge myself. Go deeper, rejecting the loud, insistent foghorn of anger, fear and resentment. I am called to be so much better than that.

I am called to peace, called to forgiveness, called to thanksgiving.





A Parable and A Pruning

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“For Whom the Lord loves, He chastens. And scourges every son whom he receives.”

~Hebrews 12: 6-11~

How about that for some good news, huh?

On the receiving end of a tough situation, St.Teresa of Avila exclaimed: “If this is the way You treat Your friends, no wonder you have so few!”


St. Teresa was a little exasperated, and who could blame her? No one is a big fan of troubles, or of being directed away from where they want to go.
A Modern Parable

We had some bushes that were overgrown. The branches inside the bush were bare; the outer branches had very few leaves. I decided to cut it all down to the stump.

I could have left the bushes alone. But I wanted to give them a chance to be renewed. The plants did roar back to life, healthy and budding in the warming Spring temperatures.

Jesus does the same thing with me. The Good Shepherd wants me on the right path. He wants me in the healthy and full life of the Spirit.

If the things I don’t need aren’t cut back, my inner life would become as barren as those interior branches. Apart from him, my faith and works are as sparse as the leaves on the outer branches. Instead of the love of God filling and spilling out of me, I’d produce less and less fruit.
The Pruning

I wanted to go on a retreat. I poked around the Internet, trying to find a retreat center located in a rural setting. I was looking for a ‘silent’ retreat. It would give me some time to be alone with the Lord. A Spiritual Director would be on site, ready to meet daily, to discuss my prayer life.

Every time I picked a date for the retreat, something would come up. I couldn’t get the time off, or one of the kids was coming home from college on break. I never found one that easily slid into my schedule. I finally gave up.



Looking back, I believe that it just wasn’t the right time for me to go. My life at home was busy, so my place was there. Jesus did not want to me to leave. He wanted to bless me in my work at home.

I thought I had it all figured out, right down to the type of retreat I wanted. But I was getting frustrated at every turn. Every new plan I had was quietly chopped to pieces. God knew exactly what I needed. I needed to be home.



Like St. Teresa, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of pruning experiences in my future. Can’t be a saint without them. At the time, they won’t make any sense at all. But with his light and understanding, I’ll see his gentle leadership.
I’ll probably get a little exasperated. But I’ll get over it. I’ll need to, because the next pruning spot has been chosen.

And here we go again….

Praying for Cookies

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Our first long-term foster child was a sweet little girl named Shea*. We brought her home when she was three months old, and she left over two years later.

She was an even-tempered, happy child. She loved to color in her little book at the kitchen table. When she finished, she’d grab the paper and toddle over to the basement door, where I displayed the kids’ school papers.

“Oh! You want your paper up on the door too?” I’d be rewarded with a bobbing head and big grin.

One morning after the kids left for school, Shea and I climbed the stairs to the bathroom. I was still in pj’s, and it was time to get ready for the day. As I brushed my teeth, she climbed up on the toilet for a closer look. Watching me intently she asked, “Yoo wass yoh pace?” Yes, Shea. I’m washing my face.

Finishing up, I turned to her and asked, “What would you like for breakfast today?”

Oooh, a choice! Her head tips to one side as she considers the possibilities. Then the light bulb goes on. She merrily suggests, “Cookies?”



I had to smile. Who among us has never had a cookie breakfast? I sure have. But I know it’s not a great idea, cookies are a terrible breakfast food. And, as we all know, they are a gateway drug. Next thing you know, I’ll have to get up early to set up an ice cream sundae bar.

I shook my head sadly, “No Shea, I don’t think cookies are a good idea.” With one hand in mine, the other on the banister, we slowly make our descent down the stairs. I suggest Cheerios or scrambled eggs as an alternative to cookies.

Five minutes later, Shea is chasing Cheerios around her cereal bowl with a spoon, happy as a clam.
This whole exchange reminded me of my prayer life. Just as I asked Shea to tell me what she wanted, God asks me to talk to him about what I want too. He will patiently listen to all my wants and needs.

Sometimes, I ask for cookies. To me, it looks perfect, but to God, it looks like trouble. The Lord is the wisest of all Fathers. He knows that what I want might not be good for me. Like Shea, I may really, really, want it, but he’s got much better things in mind.

The Lord gently caresses my face and says, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” And then he gives me what I need, which is infinitely better.

I pray that I will be as accepting and content with God’s better idea for me, as Shea was with me. Faced with ‘no’ from Mom, she seamlessly moved on to option #2. No snit-fit, no whining.

I can learn a lot from a two year old.

*not her real name

Good Cop/Bad Cop

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When Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, they all knew God’s intention.

Moses would lead them to a new land promised to their fathers. After crossing the Red Sea, everything goes great for about a year. Cue the complaints.

There wasn’t enough food, not enough water. The final straw? They’d have to fight the giants in Canaan. Shaking in their shoes, the Israel nation decided that God could not help them.

Their lack of faith resulted in the decree that “all your number, numbered from 20 years old and up ward, who have murmured against me, not one shall come into the land where I swore that I would make you dwell…” (Numbers 14:29-30)

Now forty years is a long time, and I’m sure that some of the people forgot why they were marching around the desert in an aimless loop. Besides, God wouldn’t really forsake them, would he?

“Hey Moses!” the old Israelite cries. “How come we’re not at the Promised Land yet? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this sand dune before. The family’s getting worried. What’s the deal?”

Moses stands there, calmly stroking his beard. “Well, I’ve got some Good News and some Bad News. First, the Good News: Your family will enter the Promised Land.”

Smiling with joy, the Israelite exclaims, “That’s great! Exactly what I needed to hear. I’ve got to go and tell the family! But wait…there’s some Bad News?”

“You have to die first.”

“Oh, is that all? Ok, I’ve got to run… Wait. WHAT DID YOU SAY? I think I heard you wrong.”

Moses calls over his brother. “Aaron! Come over here. Time to play ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ again.” Aaron comes, but he’s not happy about it. Moses always gets to play the ‘Good Cop’ and Aaron doesn’t think that’s fair. You know how brothers are.




The old Israelite repeats his question: “Are we going to get to the Promised Land?”

Good Cop says, “Your family will enter the Promised Land.” The elderly Israelite feels vindicated. “Finally, a straight answer!”

“Quiet now.” Moses says. ”Aaron has something to say.”

Aaron looks at his Israelite brother with love and says: “You’ll have to die first.”


It’s a universal truth. No matter how many times or ways we ask the question, the answer is yes, we’ll reach the Promised Land. But we have to die first. It’s going to cost something to live with the Lord.



Now we will have to physically die at some point to reach heaven. But what about today?
Each day, as alarms go off, and feet hit the floor, every person in the world has the opportunity to reach the Promised Land in their own life. Today. It’s going to require dying to self. It’s that death that allows the new life.
So tomorrow, as teeth are brushed and the coffeemaker heats, we can decide to live in heaven for the day. Yes, we can make it to the Promised Land.

But like Aaron said, we’ll have to die first.

Linking today with: Faith Filled Friday , Friday Five Fellowship

Psalms of the Soul

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~The Art of Being Unmistakable~

~The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People~

~How to Win Friends and Influence People~

~Choose Yourself!~

~Hollywood Beauty Secrets~

Popular culture is very involved in fixing, supporting and feeding the ‘self’. These best selling books target the ‘outer person’- behavior, appearance, conduct and habits.

I agree that reading can be very helpful. But I don’t think these selections offer the way to total happiness or lasting change. Problems with what I look like or what I do are really symptoms, not the actual disease.
For example, I need to exercise more. I should lose some weight too. There are plenty of books waiting to tell me how to reach these goals. But if I only look at removing the symptoms of fitness or weight, the disease itself will not be treated. The weight will return, I’ll stop exercising. I’ll be right back where I started.

I need to address the real problem. There is a disconnect between my goal and my will. And I am creating too much noise to be able to hear the truth.

I’ll argue with myself about my habits. “Can I skip exercise today? Have a snack?” Hmm… “Sure! Why not?” I’ll come up with all kinds of reasons why that’s ok. Filled with the noise of my own ideas, I completely drown out the voice of reason.
The healing truth is in my soul. No amount of arguing, research, or bribery can change the eternal wisdom that lives inside of me. My soul speaks only the truth. It cannot lie because it is the throne of grace and wisdom.
God waits to speak through my soul. Am I willing to hear him? I’ll have to drop the lawyer gig, and stop defending my willfulness. Turning down the volume, I will hear the little psalms of love, calling out from my deepest, inmost self.

And the songs are always about love. Loving myself, I won’t fill my body with food I don’t need. I won’t try to squirm away from exercise because that’s what keeps me healthy and alert. The voice of love shows me that neglecting myself is not debatable. I am to love myself, and love my Father as I love myself. And I want to love him well.

It’s not just hearts that ache when they are ignored. If I reject my soul’s truth, I will ache there too. The soul vents its pain by spilling over into overindulgence, disrespecting others, even ignoring God. Books about make-up and cheerleading won’t repair that.

Repair the rift inside, and then there’s hope. The outward symptoms will evaporate if the break between my will and my goal is healed. It all starts in my inmost self.



Unless I am in touch with my inner songs, all the ‘fix-it’ books in the world won’t help. But if I know what God wants (and it’s always love), then nothing should stop me from living in that love, which clarifies and illuminates my path.


A little less noise. A little more silence. And the songs of the soul will well up, healing me in its music.

Linking today with: Wednesday’s Prayer Girls

Where Am I?

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“Are you listening to me?”

My husband’s eyes narrow, and I have to admit…I’m not. His words have become background music, while my mind has moved on to planning the rest of my day. My body was right there, but my mind was somewhere in a galaxy far, far away.

Daydreaming is normal, but there’s a time and a place for that. And it’s not while I’m supposed to be engaged in conversation with my husband. Oops.

There’s another place where the mind/body disconnect happens to me. Church.

I’m sitting in the pew, with my eyes on the deacon giving the sermon. From all outward appearances, I’m paying attention. But, again, I have to admit it. My mind is weaving in and out of the words being spoken. One minute I’m getting involved in the message, the next I’m imagining the future, or regretting the past.

How silly is this? Why am I going back to times where I was embarrassed or felt I could have done something better? I can’t change it. The past is not a good neighborhood. I need to move out. Now. Here I am, allowing myself to be tortured by a memory, while missing a message I need to hear.

(Not being unified in body and mind is a gift that keeps on giving. Tomorrow I can obsess about what a space cadet I was in church today.)

The other neighborhood I’ll visit is the future. I have been in a group of people at a social event, and an off-hand comment triggers a thought about plans I have for next week.

My mind exits the building, reviewing the plans for a coming celebration. “Do I have all the supplies I need? Will he like the cake I ordered? I bet he’s going to get all kinds of great gifts!” Still standing in that group of guests, I’m really miles away.

Now as I said before, there’s a time and place to ponder plans for the party. But it’s not in a group of partygoers. Fabricating scenes of triumph and cake can wait. I should be enjoying myself, and the people around me. The future can wait.

I want to be more present in the current moment, so I’m really working on that these days. Living life fully means living life right now. Not in the ‘old neighborhood’ of the past or the ‘new neighborhood’ of the future. Figuring out how to manipulate my future, or stew about the past means I’m going to completely whiff on the ‘right now.’

Every new day is gift. Every new conversation is an opportunity to learn something new, or deepen a relationship. I don’t want to miss out on that anymore.

So the next time my husband asks if I’m paying attention, I’ll be able to say “Yes!” And the next time I’m sitting in that pew, I’ll be all ears. Instead of being distracted, I’ll be right there.

Right where I should be. In the moment.


The past should be a learning experience, not an everlasting punishment.  (Anon.)
Therefore, stop worrying about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. (Matt 6:34)

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.
(Henry David Thoreau)



Linking today with: Three Word Wednesday

Truth

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FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY

So now on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. While the kids are changing into their swimming suits, while the popcorn is popping, while the dog is outside doing his business, while the show cuts to commercial. Just five minutes.

Today, the prompt is: Truth

It always seems to come down to that one, clarifying moment. The moment of truth. It might not be pretty, but we all need to hear it.

You have toilet paper on your shoe.

There’s a seed in your teeth.

What you just said really hurt me.

I can’t see you anymore.

We’re out of Nutella.

(Believe me, this is a tragedy in some circles.)

But there’s another kind moment of truth. This one is pretty, and we all need to hear it too.

I love your haircut.

When you prayed over me, I was at peace.

You did a great job organizing that project.

I’d love to see you again.

We’ve got plenty of Nutella.

Yes, they are only moments, but they change the way we feel, move and have our being. They can be embarrassing or disappointing, as well as supportive and encouraging. All of it truth, all of it real.

Truth is powerful. Dispense yours wisely.

Oh…and here’s a tip. Stock up on Nutella. You’ll make someone’s day.

And that’s the truth.


Linking today with: Five Minute Friday

Rug Flipping

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I was very happy at home.

I quit my Same Day Surgery job when the kids were ages three, and one and a half. I was a stay-at-home Mom for the next twelve years. My husband backed me up when I told him I wanted to quit. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses; we went through financial pinches. But we were committed to making it work.

As the children grew, I had more free time. I was volunteering at school, at church, and I was also a part-time chauffeur for those swim practices, basketball games and water polo meets. It was a full, satisfying life for the family and me. I loved it.

Little did I know that God was preparing a little switch-up for me.

As I continued to volunteer and keep the house; a group of doctors needed a new employee. One of the MD’s asked the head nurse of Labor and Delivery at the local hospital, if she knew anyone who would be interested in working in an office setting.

I knew that nurse. We had gone to college together. Now a busy head nurse, in a busy hospital, I guess she wanted to share the wealth?



I got the call about the job. I was shocked. I’d never even considered looking. Of course, the Lord knew that, so he made sure they would come looking for me. The hours were good, part time, and when the children were in school. I talked to my husband, and decided to go for it. That job helped us to pay for two educations, and one wedding.

Have you heard the term: “Got the rug pulled out from under me?” The rug I was standing on was comfortable for me. I knew all its corners, and the colors woven in it. I was happy.

God saw my rug, and thought it was worn out. He thought it had started to fray, and was matted down in spots. The wear and tear was obvious to him, but not to me. He wanted me to move to a new place. I needed to start using my gifts for nursing again. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to the signs, because I never saw it coming.

You know how magicians grab a tablecloth, and with one yank, flip the cloth off the table? That’s what God did with my rug. One well timed flick of the wrist, and I was off my comfortable, well-worn rug.

I know the Lord has his plans. He’ll plant the seeds in me to whisper about change. Or the new idea comes from another person. Like Donna. She told that doctor that I was available, and ‘needed a job’. It still makes me shake my head in wonder.
Turns out I loved my new rug. It was bigger, and had bright colors woven together; the new experiences yet to come. I stayed on that rug for thirteen years. Until the next wrist snap.

Life sure is a fun ride, isn’t it?

Linking today with: Winsome Wednesday