Why Doesn't It Work?

     I have often wondered about decisions that were entered into slowly and prayerfully but still do not seem to work out. Reed and I had many friends at Bible college who got married after knowing each other well, praying for direction, having premarital counseling, and with their family's approval. A few years later we found out many of them had divorced. We had taken those same steps, so I had to wonder why it didn't work? What did they do wrong? Would that happen to us?
    And then there were friends from our church, seemingly, a happily married couple. He was offered a new job. He and his wife prayed about it, went out of state to interview with the owner, felt that it was definitely God's will. A few months later, he had an affair with a coworker and divorced his wife. Obviously infidelity was not a job requirement, but why would God direct them to take a job that would destroy their marriage?
     Then there is the missionary couple who, at God's direction, adopted a baby while they were on the mission field, raised him with their children. He loved the Lord and served him as a child, but when he grew up, he walked away from his family and his God and has fallen into all kinds of sin. We all know, or have lived, similar stories. Health, businesses, and churches fail. People who are loved and very much needed die. Prayers seem to go unanswered. What happened?
     These events are not the end of the story. The couples who divorced moved on, some remarried, some prodigals came back to the Lord, some are still coming. People regain their health or income, people find other churches. God comforts the grieving. But these events still make us feel vulnerable. What good does it do to follow God's direction if it still leads to a bad road? The only answer I can find is that this life is not the one with guarantees. Heaven is where we are promised no pain, no sorrow, no tears.  And even if God's direction doesn't lead where we want it to, it is still the best map we have to work with.
    So we read God's Word, pray, seek wise counsel, look for confirming circumstances, and make the best decisions we can. Because wanting everything to go right will keep us from doing anything at all, and that is not an option.
    

7 to 2

     In 1857, the Supreme Court decided that Dred Scott, whether he resided in a slave state or free, was not entitled to the rights and protections of citizenship because he was black. In other words, blacks were not fully human. The vote was 7 to 2. This black mark on our nation was lifted in 1868 when the decision was overturned by the Emancipation Proclamation. In 1973, (though justified through the questionable constitutional right to privacy) the Supreme Court decided that babies who resided inside their mothers are not entitled to the rights and protections of citizenship. In other words, unborn babies are not fully human. The vote was 7 to 2. Sadly, 46 years later, this blood stain on our nation has yet to be blotted out. I wonder what it would have been like to be alive when Dred Scott was repealed, to see that wrong righted. Obviously, neither the Emancipation Proclamation nor amendments to the Bill of Rights changed American attitudes or treatment of black people. That would take a century. Blacks were still treated as inferior, but they could no longer be treated as property.
     Repealing Roe vs. Wade, whether attitudes change or not, would end the legalized murder of unborn babies for being unwanted property of their mothers. Much of the credit for changing public opinion goes to the radical pro-abortion agenda in states such as New York and Virginia. Even without the indisputable evidence of medical science, most people know it's wrong to kill a baby on his birth day. And, thanks to our pro-life President's appointments, this Supreme Court may be more willing to overturn this travesty than those of previous decades. I would like to be alive to see Roe repealed, to see one of so many wrongs righted. And I am beginning to have a glimmer of hope. There is no way to give life back to the 60,000,000 who have been murdered, that stain will never come out, but the bloody floodgates could finally close.
    There will probably be no constitutional amendment restoring rights to the unborn because those are difficult to pass even at the state level. And, unless there is a round of sudden death among the Supreme Court justices, Roe v Wade will not be overturned 7 to 2. Our Constitution says our Creator has given us certain inalienable rights, but privacy is not among them, and certainly not the right to privately commit murder. I can even cite precedent--Cain vs Abel.

It's Washington

     We are staying in Gig Harbor which is, of course, in Washington state. Washington is already known as a "nanny state", one that assumes its residents are too inept to look out for themselves, so it has many laws that are considered unnecessary in more "ept" environments. One of the things I discovered I am protected from in Washington, is benefiting from my Kroger prescription plan. Even though there are many Fred Meyer pharmacies here, and Fred Meyer is clearly Kroger, they are not allowed to give the Kroger prescription discount, although they can give a Good Rx rate. The pharmacist's explanation--It's Washington. Meaning--don't expect logic. So I paid more for a one month supply of medication than I would for a three month supply at home. The main reason I use Smith's Pharmacy in Kalispell is that I can fill prescriptions at any Kroger pharmacy when we travel. Why Washington feels the need to protect its people from less expensive prescriptions most likely has a monetary, not medical, motivation.
     When a tourist runs into one of the nonsensical regulations, the resident's standard explanation is--it's Washington. At least they allow you to pump your own gas here. Oregon assumes its inhabitants are incapable of such a complex activity. Last night, we found out you are not allowed to take a glass container outside a building because--it's Washington. In Port Orchard, where we used to stay, the long arm of the state is not considered sufficient to protect pedestrians. At the main street crossings, you are expected to take a flag from the stands by the traffic signals and hold it as you cross the street. Apparently the laws about pedestrians having absolute right of way and the flashing lights to warn motorists are insufficient. You need to carry a flag. I was always tempted to march across the street performing a drill routine like the Sparkettes did in my high school, but I'd rather take my chances against a car than die of embarrassment holding a flag.
     One of the problems with a nanny state, is that lulling a populace into accepting illogical laws gives lobbyists more leeway to get the legislature to pass them. Thankfully, we have the state of Idaho and our rugged individualism between nanny and Montana. But unchallenged idiocy, whether from D.C. or p.c. state government, deserves a better response than--It's Washington.  
    

The Back Story

     We had a hymn sing at church a few weeks ago. The song leader was organized and the pianist was excellent, but we did not get to sing everybody's favorite. There just was not time. So there certainly would not be time for people to share why they chose a particular hymn and/or what it means to them--the back story. One man briefly shared about being in the service, in Asia, and desperately lonely, but he comforted himself by singing over and over "What a Friend We Have in Jesus", his request. Not only is there a back story to our own requests, but also to the choices of others. When someone asked for "The Old Rugged Cross", I remembered the first time I heard it, my great grandma's funeral. I thought it was wondrous. Mormons, at least back when I was in the church, were not trying to be as mainstream as they are today. We seldom sang about Jesus, much less the Gospel contained in a hymn like that.
      I had an emergency-back-up hymn chosen (Come Thou Fount), because the song leader threatened to make us lead if our selection was unfamiliar, but my first choice was "What Wondrous Love Is This". To my relief, the song leader remembered it from way back when he was in eighth grade. I first heard it, sung by a children's choir, at my friend Donna's funeral. She died suddenly of hepatitis when we were both 15, from human perspective, because her doctor was an idiot who did not recognize her obvious symptoms until she was beyond treatment. But the main reason she died so young, is that a Sovereign God had appointed her time. And He used her death to move me beyond a head knowledge about Jesus, to a heart cry for a Savior. Since death was no longer something that just happened to old people, I needed to know happens when we die. Donna's death was a giant step on my journey to life.
    Even I, a word miser, could not condense enough to share my story at the hymn sing. We could sing hymns or tell our stories, but we could not do both. Still I wish there was some time and place this side of eternity to share, not just the hymns, but our histories, because those are written, not just about Him, but by Him.

What Brie Will Be

     It has taken me two years to write this poem about my granddaughter. Slow, even for me. But I have used our time together gathering data. It may look like I'm having fun and being silly, but it is also serious research. Now that our second is on her way, and I am trying to write a blessing poem for her, I realize I now have enough data for an accurate poem about Gabrielle--Brie.

What Brie Will Be

I do not know what Brie will be--

Your looks and personality

Are more than just the products of

Your mother and your father’s love,

Much less the strange influence of

A grandmother like me.

But you have opened up my world

 The same way that your mother could

By helping me to see again

Creation, like it just began,

Adventures waiting close at hand

Like flags to be unfurled.

The swing set where you like to ride,

Our secret fort beneath the slide,

The joy of catching bubbles,

Of tickling and cuddles,

When hugs erase your troubles,

And mine are set aside.

With you as guide to childhood’s joys,

My grown up world is background noise.

There’s nothing I would rather do

Than spend my time playing with you.

Our playmate days are fast and few

Til you move on to other toys.

But still, I cannot wait to see

God use your personality

To fit the sovereign plans,

Shaped by His loving hands.

For He uniquely understands

What Brie will be.

6/12/19

Night, Night Monkey

    I waited many years to have a playmate/grandchild. Since she is not yet two, our play has mostly been me helping Brie learn how to use her baby toys, like how to move the buttons on her pop-up toy or turn the dial on the toy radio (which I'll explain to her when she can understand the concept of antiques) But my favorite game so far is "Night, night monkey".  When she was pregnant, Britten gave me a stuffed monkey that played a recording of Brie's prenatal heartbeat. Hearing the heartbeat of my unborn grandchild, holding a toy about the same size as a newborn baby, was the placeholder until the real deal granddaughter came along. When I found out my daughter-in-law, Emily, was pregnant, I retrieved the monkey from my closet shelf and displayed it on my dresser, a reminder to pray and dream once again. Since Friday's ultrasound, it is wearing the pink ribbon Britten had on it when she gave it to me. Emily is having a girl in October. Since my sister and I are both October babies, we think this is excellent.
    Because the monkey represented Brie before she was born, it seems only fair that she should get to play with it now. After all, I had a long turn. But the monkey is closely guarded lest the dogs assume it is their toy. If the dogs found it lying around, the heartbeat would be silenced in no time. Their toys have short and tragic lives. At first, we wrapped Monkey in a scarf just to make her look pretty. From there it morphed in the wordless way of playmates, into covering the monkey with the scarf/blanket and laying her down for night night.  When the heartbeat goes off, Brie says, "Monkey!" in the same scolding, but patient voice my daughter uses when Brie is being uncooperative. I am not showing her how to play with something, we are pretending together. It is only a taste of adventures to come, and it is a sweet taste.

   We share a time that I can keep

deep in my heart where memories sleep--

Night, Night Monkey.

Easter Expanded

     As I was trying to arrange our family Easter celebration this year, I was frustrated that my grown kids were making attending Easter dinner contingent on a roofing project also planned for that weekend. Admittedly, it was the only weekend in the near future that would work out for all our kids to help. And they were volunteering all of the labor and part of the cost. And the beneficiary was my friend, not theirs. But Easter celebrates the most significant thing that has happened in the universe since creation--the payment for our sin accomplished by Christ's death, and the defeat of sin and death accomplished by His resurrection. Celebrating of the root of Christianity versus shingling the roof of a modular. Which is more important?
     It all worked out because the weather was rainy the days before Easter when the tear off needed to be done. Also, I had begged them to delay because I saw no way to keep my husband out of the action, and he was fighting his diverticulitis, which flares up when he is overtired. Praise the Lord for providential poor weather.
    But the Lord spoke to me while I was at our church service pondering the miracle of Easter, "It was just as certain before it happened." Yes, the accomplishment of our salvation is worth celebrating, but the date we do that is not so important. Salvation was certain from the moment God formed the plan. After all, Christ told his disciples He had overcome the world before the crucifixion (John 16:33). God was not waiting around to see if Christ would really be crucified or hoping He would be able to raise from the dead. He knew. And now I know--our salvation is not secure because of what happened at Easter. It rests secure, as it has since the beginning of time, in our Savior's hands.