We weren’t able to have children of our own, so we delight in investing our time, hearts and effort into other peoples’ kids.   For some reason I was drawn to a group of boys and girls at church that were in the fifth grade.   They were active and inquisitive, and I loved being around them.

On Sundays, I was invited to teach the Bible to that age group.  All of them were pretty outgoing and bright as buttons.   My passion is sharing not only the truths of the Scriptures, but thinking of ways to bring alive the application into the shoe-leather of living.

I remember the time we were talking about prayer and the privilege of sharing in conversation with the Lord our needs and the needs of others.   There are many aspects of prayer that are so practical.   I’ve discovered that in teaching children, if we can use a variety of ways of sharing truths through objects that touch their five senses (smell, touch, sight, hearing, and taste), they find it much easier to remember the story.

Drawing is not an ability I have, but straight lines I can handle.   I drew a very large ice cream “cone” that was about three feet high, and each week I would put together a 12” circle made from various colors of construction paper.   These round circles represented flavors on the cone.  On each flavor-color, I would write out a different characteristic of prayer. 

On another occasion we studied God’s parting of the Red Sea.   I took an 8 x 13” glass dish lining half of the dish with plastic wrap, and I poured one cup of red liquid jello into one side of the dish, bringing the plastic wrap over to hold it in place.  Then I did the same thing on the other side of the long dish.  After allowing the jello to firm up overnight I took the dish of jello to class the following morning.  Everyone gathered around the jello, I mean my Red Sea, to listen to the details of this event.

Then, we circled around the 8 x l3 glass sea of red jello, and I would pull back the siran wrap and they could see the “jello sea” parting.    In our interaction after the illustration, we cut up the red sea and ate it.    My prayer was that every time they ate red jello, they would be reminded what God did for His people.

Another week we covered the event of God destroying the walls of Jericho for His people.  We would really delve into the details of God’s instructions that He gave His people.  They were to walk around Jericho once a day for six days, with no conversation.  Then on the seventh day, they were to walk around the city seven times, again with no one talking.  Then as they completed their instructions on the seventh round of the city, they observed the miracle of God bringing down those walls with just a shout from the crowd. 

 It was a wonderful teaching tool to show the young people the importance of “obedience,” because there was a time or two in their parade around the room, where some were making comments and I shared that if they wanted to experience the obedience of God’s instructions, they needed to be absolutely quiet.

By now you’re wondering where the popcorn and pancakes comes into this story.   Later that year, I made arrangements with the parents to allow their sons and daughters to come to our home for an overnight “slumber party.”  The event was overwhelmingly chaperoned by my husband and I.   Each child brought their own sleeping bag, pillow and pajamas.   The cuisine that evening consisted of hot dogs and chips. 

Before bedtime, we sat around munching buttered popcorn.  I don’t think I sat down all evening, but the joy and laughter that filled our home that evening was sweet.  Our home was loaded with about nine Red Sea students, boys in the family room and girls in the living room all preparing to get horizontal for a night’s sleep.   To our surprise they calmed down at a decent hour.  I think they were so full of hot dogs they couldn’t move.

I set my alarm for an early hour, and made my way to the kitchen.  The aroma of bacon frying woke everyone up.  They all took turns dressing in the bathroom and promptly joined me in the kitchen.  Paper plates were the best call of the day, and various kids were helping set the table and pouring orange juice as every skillet I owned was being loaded down with pancakes.   They ate every last pancake. 

After breakfast all of the parents arrived to take their children home.  I was ready for another night’s sleep by this time, but we had a wonderful time together.  

About 15 years later, one of the students came to our home in Washington State for a visit.  She was all grown up and in university by now.  We loved sharing and hearing about her life and how God had been weaving the strands of experience to build her into a lovely young woman.   

At one point of the evening she shared with us her memory of the sleepover at our home and the popcorn and pancakes.  It was a wonderful memory for her and the others being loved on in such a fun way.

I had no idea that this event seemed so important to her as well as to the others.   I gravitate to the practical things of life anyway, but this memory holds tender thoughts and the recognition that you don’t have to spend a lot of money to let a child know that they are loved!

Doesn’t life offer numerous opportunities to learn “flexibility?”   My temperament doesn’t adjust rapidly to “go with the flow.”    My system fights that upstream living.   So I’m always in class learning from the Lord how to go with His agenda, instead of mine.   He certainly has surprises in the turns of our journey.

At this particular time of our marriage I was working full-time, so time and energy had to be carefully managed.   I arrived home early this particular evening and about an hour before dinner. Not long after, the telephone rang.   The excited voice on the other end of the line was my husband announcing that we would be hosting a friend for dinner.   Did you notice that he used the word “we?”   I yet find that humorous because he was nowhere within miles of the kitchen in which this dinner would be prepared.

We had met this young single gal at our church and numerous times during our interaction with her, we offered hospitality on a come-as-you-are basis.    I now understand that to mean, you come as you are, and on that basis, we’ll share whatever is the freshest in the fridge.

My husband’s announcement caught me off guard.  My mind immediately went into gear as to what in the world I was going to prepare for this quick invite.   There wasn’t the time or the energy to rustle up a casserole, and steaks were seldom in our freezer zone.

The only delicacy I could come up with was hotdogs, mashed potatoes and peas.  A delicacy?  I can’t even remember if we had dessert.  If we did, it was ice cream.  You can never go wrong with scooping that out, now can you.

My husband arrived home as the mashed potatoes were being whipped into place.   He enjoys his meals, and I know, from experience that he was wondering what in the world could I be dishing up in an hour, other than pancakes or scrambled eggs.

The main entre was simple….hot dogs.   We had a lean financial reservoir in those years, and we enjoyed (did I say enjoy) hot dogs on a rather regular basis.   I’m not Martha Stewart or Betty Crocker, but I learned that you can “dress up” hot dogs by slicing them open down the center and placing cheese in the crevice.    Commit them to the broiler and voila, dinner is served.

This young gal had never been to our home before, but I reminded myself that the most “important ingredient” of the evening was that she felt “welcomed, loved and appreciated.” 

The doorbell rang, and we warmly took her in out of the cold.  It wasn’t but a few moments later and we all sat down to dinner.  I brought out the plates, adorned with three colors, brown, white and green.

She looked down at the presentation of cuisine and smiled.  The evening was full of conversation, laughter and tears as well.   We were so thrilled that she seemed to feel so at home, and so quickly.  

A few hours had passed and she shared that she needed to be on her way.  We all felt as though this friendship would go on for years, and it did.

Later in the evening we chuckled and wondered what in the world she thought at the presentation of such a simple meal.   It didn’t take long to find out.   She phoned us the following evening to tell us how much she appreciated the invitation to our home and hearts.   With a chuckle in her voice, she commented that it was the “hot dogs” that instantly put her at ease and made her feel like part of the family.

I learned then and continue to remind myself that people are so pleased just to be invited into your home; and that they really aren’t as concerned as you are as to what you serve them.

Entertaining focuses on the host and hostess.

Hospitality is focused on “your guest” and making them feel loved and welcome.   This can be done at a card table, with or without a tablecloth.   And yes, a grilled cheese sandwich or a well-adorned hot dog is quite appropriate.

Now, when was it that you were coming over for dinner?

“A PERSONAL CONFESSION”

Dear friends……………..

This morning I wanted to share with you a “site” on “youtube.com” that offers a tranquil inclusion to our life, providing uplift, encouragement, and peace in our “fast-paced” life.

Lately my heart has been challenged to again, “turn down the volume” in my life, and purposely choose some “nourishment” for my heart and soul.  

Yes, I know that culture is in a constant state of change, but much of that change in culture isn’t right, safe, or encouraging or uplifting. 

I must confess that the Lord has been convicting me about my obsession with the cell phone and my response to its every “cry for attention.”   Texting and communicating in short phrases has its “place,” that I realize, but call me old-fashioned if you wish ……. I still prefer to hear the “personal voice” of someone either in person or by phone.  Many have told me they feel the same.

The site I’m referring to on “youtube.com” is called:  “praise with sangah noona.”  She is a gifted communicator with her “fingers on the keyboard.”  She is young, but well-known around the world for her piano skill playing a variety of music. But it is her “praise with sangah noona” that “floods my heart and mind” as she plays hymns and choruses with the lyrics following along on the screen as she plays.

So why not give yourself a “holiday treat” and see what you think.  I watch on my computer and often sing along as the lyrics appear. You may wish to access “YOU TUBE” on your television (if you have that available), or access YOU TUBE on your phone or computer.

I trust that you’ll be refreshed in many ways through this inspirational access to music – music that touches us deep within the soul.

Blessings……..and refreshment,

Dianne

This is a story that, at first, you may not believe, but it’s true nonetheless.   My husband and I were in New Zealand visiting his parents this particular summer.   Often we would gather ourselves in their small, but comfortable Ford Anglia car.   If you were over six feet in height, you would not enjoy the ride.

I remember well our get-away that afternoon.  It was a very warm day and we were sailing along nicely, with all the windows in the down position.   In those days it was referred to as “natural air conditioning.”    We felt like we were the only ones on the road; it was that lonely.   It didn’t matter, we were enjoying our touring in the country that afternoon.  

Suddenly the car began making noises that didn’t appeal to any of the passengers.  It was sputtering as if we were running out of gas.   In a quick glance at the gauges, the tank had plenty of fuel to take us back home, so this wasn’t the problem.

My husband is very handy in car repair, especially if he has You-Tube at his fingertips.   But, alas, no computers were available.  GPS (global positioning systems hadn’t been discovered back then), so even that “talking directional woman” couldn’t give us our location.    We didn’t need anyone to tell us we were in the boon docks, with no one even passing by in another car and something with the mechanics of the car was very wrong; so wrong, that the car just stopped.   My husband steered over to the side of the road and began the search and rescue approach to see if he could determine the cause.

I can’t remember the exact cause or location, perhaps the radiator?   Whatever it was, he removed it from the front end of the car.    He then positioned himself on the side of the road with instructions to his three soon-to-be-alone-in-this-car passengers to stay put, and he would hitch hike to the next town.    We had no idea how far the town would be, but we sat like orphans, lonely but hopeful.

For a while there was silence in the car.   None of us had any ideas or answers to our automotive-dilemma.   My father-in-law and mother-in-law were in the back seat, and I was up front in this wee little automobile.

While we were discussing our dilemma and our helpless state, an incredible idea blossomed from my heart.   Dad, the professional musician in the back seat just “happened” to have his clarinet with him.    I was reminded that when you’re in trouble and belong to the Lord, call on Him, and He is a very present help in trouble.   The more we thought about this, the more determined we got about sharing our cares with the Lord.   We also decided that it would be a great thing to just sing some praise choruses, after all, we had our own professional musician who knew the music by heart to accompany us.

So there, in the tiny little car we told the Lord about our need of a car repair, and the provision of just the right part to be available in whatever little town my husband had been driven to.   Then, we began to sing.    We must have sung five or six choruses from our choral repertoire.   

As we energetically sang we were beginning to get quite warm due to the rising temperature in this remote little area of the country.    Over an hour had passed and no sign of the fix-it man.    We explored our memories for more choruses, and continued to sing and remind ourselves that God knew our exact location and predicament.   We were, as the Bible encourages us to, to encourage yourself in the Lord.   We were doing that, with all our heart and lungs.

All during the time this praise session of choruses and music meandered out the car windows, not one other car went past us.  Then it happened, and we were astonished at its size.   It was a double semi-truck.   You don’t see them very often, but when you do, you are struck at their size, particularly their length.   If anything, it would stir up some air as it passed by our car.

We were surprised that as this HUGE double-semi (did I say double) approached our car, it began to slow down.    What took our breath away is that he actually stopped this rig and pulled to the side of the road.

He was quick to inquire about our situation and we  responded with our “we don’t know what’s wrong, but we hoped that the help who left would soon be returning with the needed part.”

There was really nothing this truck driver could do for us, but we sure appreciated his stopping and caring attitude.   After the introduction he said he had a treat for us.   His question to this “group in the car” was, “do you like ice cream?”   That’s like asking a rabbit if it likes carrots.  

We couldn’t get a YES out quick enough.   He went to the rear of his semi and opened the doors.  Inside this double semi was a truck load of ICE CREAM…..all the flavors in the world you could think of.    His second question was, “name your favorite flavor.”

He pulled out a pint of our “requested favorites” and handed it to each of us…with spoons too.   Did we give thanks to the Lord, or what !!!!

We were thrilled out of our socks, and the truck driver was so pleased to have helped us.   We were gobbling down our ice cream, eating like mad due to the heat, but a thought came to my mind.   My husband would never believe this double semi-truck full of ice cream story.  The only way he would believe is if he could SEE & TASTE the evidence.

Before the ice cream man, I mean the truck driver, could close the semi doors, I inquired if he had the flavor Rocky Road in his ice cream inventory.  HE DID.   And he gave me a pint of it.  I ran over to our over-heated car and wrapped the package in newspaper and placed it in the cooler, hoping it would hold together until my husband returned.

The semi hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when the fix-it man arrived.   We had just finished our pint each of ice cream, so all the evidence of the Lord’s help was consumed, but thanks to coolers, my husband was about to hear the story of his life.

The repair only took him a couple minutes and we were all standing around, anxiously awaiting the opportunity to share our “show and tell” event.     I wasted no time in telling the story and hurried to the cooler before the “show part” was disappearing into a messy liquid.

You can guess his reaction…..No, I don’t believe you about the big ice cream truck.   I’ve never heard of such a thing.   Well, the proof is in the pudding, or shall I say, ice cream.

We pulled out and unwrapped the pint of Rocky Road (his favorite) and handed him a spoon.   His eyes were like golf balls and full of belief once his taste buds began to enjoy this luscious treat…..all provided by the Lord because we prayed, we praised,and God responded.

To date, I’ve never seen another double-semi truck filled with ice cream.   But I must close with this wee chuckle.   Every once in a while a tiny 4-wheel ice cream truck comes by our neighborhood in the summer with its little gingle inviting prospective customers to buy their ice cream, and my thoughts and heart goes back to the semi-truck loaded with frozen desserts.   I just smile with delight at God’s goodness and sweetness to us that day.

What joy to reach out to our neighbors, for a variety of reasons.  One of them being that neighbors are close by and can often be a wonderful source of help in an emergency. 

In this particular area where we lived in Southern California the homes were situated on a relatively short street.   In that climate people are often outside more than any other area of the country.   We were in the process of learning the names of our neighbors and their children and pets.   We felt very comfortable in this new neighborhood and loved living there.

I pray for our neighbors on Thursdays.  You may wonder if prayer makes a difference.   Yes it does, for many reasons.  But in this little story, God was orchestrating a new adventure on behalf of our neighbors, two doors down.  He wanted to let them know that when you belong to the Lord, He knows and cares and upon our invitation, becomes involved in our daily lives.

Being visible on a regular basis in your front yard offers many open opportunities for a friendship.   A woman who lived a couple of houses away from us appeared at our front door one evening.   After a brief hello, she asked me if I could do her a favor.  I couldn’t imagine where this would take me, but I agreed with the stipulation of “if I could help, I would.”

She began sharing her plight of need.   It was around Christmas time, and she and her husband had purchased a tiny puppy for their two children.   At this point of the conversation, I couldn’t imagine how I could be involved, but it didn’t take long to be included in the dilemma that was before her.

She had made arrangements to pick up the puppy the following evening, and needed a “housing arrangement” with someone who would care for this little furry critter.   You might imagine, if you know me, that I love animals.   And wee puppies are right up my alley of affection.   I thought about the challenge as she was describing his size.   This “hotel arrangement” would be only for a few hours.

I didn’t see this as a problem and after all, I could enjoy this little bundle of enthusiasm for a few hours before he was to be introduced to his new family.   Yes, I could accommodate this new little puppy, but only for a few hours.

The following evening I was ready for his rambunctious arrival in our kitchen.   He remained in my boarding house for about two hours.   This was just enough time for him to get accustomed to my scent and my tone of voice.    The woman picked up this bundle of energy with fur and took him to his new home.   All was well.

This little energizer bunny seemed to enjoy his new family and often they would walk him past my home each morning and evening.   Every time they went past our home and I was visible, his entire body would shake with enthusiasm.  He must have remembered that my kitchen was his first place of settlement upon his arrival in the neighborhood.

One day as I was out front in my garden, this little dog like lightening scurried past me down the street all by himself.   Because of my love for animals, I took notice that he was travelling on his own and this didn’t seem good.  He was so tiny and alone, I was afraid this might not have a good ending.  

I offered up a quick “Help me Lord, to catch this dog.”  I called out his name and he remarkably came running back towards me.  At this I drew a big breath of thanksgiving and proceeded down the street to his own home.   The family had no idea of his disappearance.

This adventure happened over and over in our neighborhood.  This wee furry ball discovered happiness in disappearing and wouldn’t respond to his owners.  But if they were able to locate me, I could call out and he would respond and return to sound of my voice.   I soon became the “fetch that dog lady.”

One day they asked me why the dog would come to me and not to them.   The man of the house said that it seemed like whenever I went looking for the dog and called out his name, their little dog would respond and pounce happily in my direction.   I paused, and shared with him that I had prayed and asked the Lord for His help.   It took several more times of my intervening retrieval before they began to realize that God really cared as I had told them.

A few years later we were moving to another part of the country.  This couple arrived at my front door with a little gift.   I thought it was appropriate to open it immediately as they were standing there and seemingly so excited to see my reaction.

Secretly I thought to myself that this package was too small for a furry surprise, so with curious anticipation I hurriedly opened the gift to see what was in the package.   It was a Willow Tree “Angel of Prayer” figurine. 

They wanted me to have this as a reminder that they remembered that prayer makes a difference, and that God does want to be involved in the tiny details of our lives.    He does indeed, delight in every detail of our lives. 

I think of this family whenever I view the little figurine on my bookcase.   It’s a reminder to me too, that God knows and cares about our every need.

Being with people energizes me!   I realize that my personality thrives on relationships.   One of my many areas of joy is greeting people at the entry of our church on Sundays.   There are about 350 people that I say “hello, good to see you” each week.   I’m full and running over by the time the worship service begins. 

There are a variety of reasons I personally feel that welcoming others is such an important ministry, in fact I’d even say critical.

My husband and I have been to many places and churches through God’s direction, and we’ve been to churches where you can walk in and walk out and never have any personal contact, either verbally, with a smile or an eye connection.

Naturally we are drawn to those we know and feel comfortable with, regardless of the social setting.  For me, welcoming others brings me out of my comfort zone and into the “moment of relational love” on behalf of the Lord Jesus towards every person that comes through the doors at church.

God often encourages me as if to “leave yourself in the car” and go in and “represent Me” to every heart coming through those doors.

Each handshake can be a prayer for that person.  I notice that many people will momentarily linger for a warm handshake, a smile or a hug.   Our lives are to create a compelling environment to help people grow closer and deeper in their love and knowledge of Jesus Christ; and, to help them “be the tangible expression of Christ.” 

Greeting each person is a tremendous joy too, because in the manner in which we greet another person, we have the opportunity to express to them that they are “significant to God.”   I want them to know that before they ever sit down in the sanctuary, that they’ve already been touched by God’s love and acceptance.   

I’ve enjoyed and treasure this outreach in many ways over the years, but there are two scenarios that will be forever etched in my memory.

I woke up one Sunday morning in a not too good frame of mind.  I just didn’t “feel like welcoming” that Sunday.  But, thanks to the Lord for working in my heart, I went anyway.  There was a widow who arrived, and I always feel they need a special touch or a hug.  This morning, as this lady approached me, I gave her a hug.   And then, prompted by God, pulled her close again for a longer embrace.   Afterwards she looked at me and said these words:   “Dianne, I needed that this morning.   You are the only one who touches me all week.”

The other Sunday morning encounter was with a vivacious man who always seemed to possess a smile and infectious laugh.  This man slowly approached the church from the parking lot.  His countenance was different this day.   I noticed at a distance of about fifteen feet that another man took notice of him, and I heard him ask, “How are you?”   It took only moments to realize that something very hurtful had happened in this man’s life.

I was busy trying to focus on welcoming the people just in front of me, but I quietly asked the Lord to show me how to tenderly greet this hurting soul that was about to enter my presence.   Tears filled his eyes, and I just asked him to tell me what was happening in his life.

His dear mother had died the previous afternoon.  He was with her when she went “home to be with the Lord.”   He was overwhelmed with sadness and tears.  I want to honor the privacy of our conversation, but suffice it to say, I just put my arms around him and allowed him to cry.  

I’ve experienced loss and I remember only too well, that there are few words known to man that are appropriate at a time like this.   It’s our presence, and a listening ear that speaks volumes of comfort in moments like these.

This man spoke for almost twenty-five minutes of his love for his Mom and the heart-felt grief he was experiencing.   I said very little.  After gaining some personal composure he went into the sanctuary.  I shared that I would be praying for him.  Later that week I sent a small card with a note to let him know I cared.   I also enclosed a tea bag for him to enjoy, realizing that I cared about his loss and the painful journey he was walking through.

Through the coming weeks and months he began to heal and his countenance of joy was returning.   From that time on the bonds of friendship were relived every Sunday morning as he entered the doors.   He said that he would never forget the moments of tenderness that he experienced that memorable day.  Each time we see each other, he reminds me with his infectious laugh, of the tea bag enclosed in his card.   I never imagined that a tea bag would make someone laugh….but it did to him.

We never know the burdens, anxieties, cares and grief that are encased in each person we come across each day, regardless of where we meet them.   It may be at the grocery store, a restaurant where the waitress may not be in a good mood, or even at church, where everyone seems to be “just fine” when you ask them how they are.   

These two experiences have helped fashion how I meet another and ask the question:   “How are you?”   I’ve learned to stick around for a moment or two to let them know that I want to know and listen to how they “really are.”

People may forget what you teach, but they will never forget how you made them feel”   William Buechner

You never know when someone may be driving by and make an assumption about you, without having all the facts.   This incident took place years ago, and I still laugh at how assumptions can lead us astray.

This particular morning a friend and I were going out to a conference.  Arrangements were made that she would drive over to pick me up at a certain time.  This particular function called for wearing something a little dressy.   The mirror in the bathroom of our home seems to always tell the truth.  So I was making the necessary adjustments to the features of my body, working carefully and craftily for a presentation for a public appearance.   I even decided to adorn my feet with heels.

I was ready some 15 minutes ahead of my friend’s arrival so I wondered what little task I could busy myself with while waiting for her arrival.  As I stepped outside our front door, I noticed that the front garden needed some weed abatement.   I went to the garage and pulled out the spade, and off I went to the weed-infested area.    Gosh those weeds can go down deep, so I used the spade to cut down to the roots.  My normal attire for gardening is loose clothing and tennis shoes; but this morning I found my task a bit more challenging as I was using the spade in high heels.

I would look up every now and then just in the event my friend arrived early.   Time passed, and by now, I was making real progress, even in heels.   I was practically finished, when my friend pulled into the driveway.    She looked at me in an odd sort of way as I was approaching her car.   We both broke out in laughter when she told me she’d never seen anyone garden in heels.  Was I ever happy that I could explain myself and why I had the heels on in the first place.  I was just trying to make the most of the time while waiting for her to arrive.

Days had passed now, and it was Sunday morning.   The worship service was over and several of us were gathered in the foyer talking.   A woman approached me with an odd look on her face.   She asked me if I garden with heels on.   My response was no and I just laughed.   Another odd expression came over her face as she started to explain that she just happened to be driving past our home that week and she saw me digging in my garden.  

I burst out laughing, desperately trying to re-align her assumptions about my gardening technique.  After I shared “why” I was wearing heels, she broke into laughter.

Her first comment to herself was that she assumed that she and I could never be friends because she thought I was odd and assuming I always gardened in heels.

We both have had many a laugh about her incorrect assumption as she didn’t have all the facts.   I asked her if I could use that illustration while teaching in Bible Studies to bring alive that we can so easily misjudge a person when we don’t have all the details of the situation.  She agreed and I have used that story with others, and it continues to be a reminder to me to not make a rash judgment call on anyone, especially if they’re wearing heels.

No, I’ve never worn heels in the garden since!

My husband and I have been privileged to meet so many lovely people.   We have friends from age 3 to 103.   I’ve learned, listened, and loved all of them for a variety of reasons.   Some are single, some are married, some are divorced, some are widows and widowers, and all of them are precious souls in which God has allowed our paths in life to intertwine.  I’ve been richer for the treasure they have brought to my life.   Some are here on earth and some are alive and in heaven with Jesus.

One such friend, though now enjoying the pleasures and joy of being with the Lord, brought so much richness of laughter and the beautiful qualities of a Godly character into our lives.  We had known this man for a number of years.  Some years prior to our friendship, he had been married to his sweetheart for many years.  Whenever he referred to her in conversation, it was always with gracious delight.   He was now a widower and learning to walk through his days alone without her.

While having him in our home, he seemed to bring such a refreshing joy to us.   It was discovered one day over morning tea that he had a birthday coming up.   It would be the celebration of 80 wonderful years.  

One quality about this man was his tender disposition and childlike joy.   We would laugh about almost anything.   He was the type of person with whom you could discuss “oatmeal” and be bursting at the seams with laughter about its consistency.   Together we often saw the funny side of things. 

In my discovery of his birthday an idea was planted in my heart to have a birthday dinner party in his honor.   About eight other friends were all notified of the upcoming event.   We had phoned our friend to invite him and his new “significant other” lady friend for dinner.  That was the plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was turning 80 and had no need of gifts.  But the Lord brought to my mind that there was one gift that would be especially appropriate.   That gift was ENCOURAGEMENT.

Now how do you wrap and present a gift like that?  I’d been to many birthday parties and they all consisted of food, gifts and an occasional balloon.   It took a few days for this surprise party to marinate in my thinking.  How were we all to encourage him?

If you’re anything like me, if someone compliments me or makes an encouraging comment to me, within five seconds or less, I can’t remember one word they spoke.   Oh I wish I could, but it seems that the airways glean all the goodness of their positive comment.

Then it came to me!   If we each bought a card and wrote all the wonderful things we’d like to say to him, ways he had encouraged us and built positive qualities into our life along with things we appreciated and loved about him…..that seemed like a wonderful and creative way to show love to him.

I phoned each of his friends and shared this idea of a BIRTHDAY “encouragement” PARTY.  They all readily agreed.   The agreement was that our friend would come over for dinner, and at a pre-arranged time and about 45 minutes after we began having dinner, all of his friends would keep showing up at the front door.

They were to bring their “written gift” and later, after cake and ice cream, each of us were going to “read aloud” our card to him.  In the background, I had a tape recorder on to record the occasion.

The evening was filled with surprises, laughter and tears….tears of joy and appreciation.  It was an evening I doubt that any of us would forget.  I know our guest of honor wouldn’t as we gifted him with a tape of the party, and the recording of each of his friends’ comments of appreciation for his life.

The following morning our “Birthday Celebrant” phoned to tell me that this 80th birthday party was the first birthday party he had ever had in “his honor;” and he remarked that it was the most meaningful evening of his life.

This event marked my heart forever with the realization that regardless of our age, we all need to know that we’re special…..special to someone.   I don’t know about your experiences with encouragement.  Maybe it hasn’t been on your radar screen.   But it seems many times that funerals hold the key to unlocking our “verbal values” of others.   I feel that it is so sad, because the one who needs to hear our heart’s appreciation and admiration is no longer able to listen.

I know many of us weren’t raised with verbal comments like, I love you, you’re special to me, and you’ve enriched my life in many ways….and on and on.   Sometimes we may have been raised in a culture where any verbal expression of love was seldom if ever vocalized. 

Each day is precious!   Each day you meet with a friend or chat with them on the phone is a moment in time that can never be repeated. 

Through some precious experiences over the last 20 years, I have learned the value and joy of telling others that I love them.   I’m not mushy, or do I drip all over people, but often at the end of every conversation with those I love, I tell them so.   Plainly, I love you!

Each day is a GIFT….that’s why it is called the PRESENT.

Oh may we consider “gifting others” with our verbal encouragement on a regular basis.

While my husband and I were living in Florida, I applied for a job at a local bank.   Sharing the name of the bank isn’t important, but what happened one morning needs to be exposed.

When I was employed by the bank manager as his secretary, I was given a full indoctrination of bank policies and procedures.  This was important for my career there as I had never been employed by a bank before.   I took their instructions serious.   I was further encouraged that my assignment held with it the priority to both influence and encourage other employees to employ good public relation skills with the bank customers.  

In addition to my secretarial responsibilities, I was in charge of  opening new accounts; but more importantly, I was the designated liaison with their largest and most important customers.

I’ll continue to explain this situation.   Our largest customer had top priority of the bank’s services on their behalf.   This meant that the secretary/administrator for the president of this corporation could enter the bank before and after regular business hours.    I was to handle all their deposits and any withdrawals they wished to make, along with any other banking needs this corporation required.

This large corporation’s representative would handle this business with myself.   When she entered the bank, my heart would race a little as I was handling more money than I knew where to place the decimal point, if you know what I mean.

Months went by and she and I, along with the president of this corporation, would enjoy the personal interaction as their business transaction was taken care of with little stress…..that is, on their part.   I was always keenly aware of the importance of accuracy when it came to dollars and cents.

The day came when you can imagine what happened next.  I had made a mistake.   It was a big one!  It was a $10, 000 mistake.  I remember it happened after banking hours.   I also remember going to an outside drive-through teller’s counter to do the transaction.

As I returned inside, I was glancing over the paperwork and made the incredible discovery that I had made this HUGE error in the deposit.  Talk about heart racing.    A variety of scenarios in response to my error were etching the airwaves of my mind.  I could have laid the blame on the teller, but that wasn’t the truth.

With knees knocking, I went into the bank manager’s office I thought, for the last time.   He was not only the manger, he was my boss.    I quietly shared what happened.   I admitted the error and my eyes must have pleaded for mercy.   After a teary admission, my boss gained his facial composure, and said not to worry.     He was so kind and understanding, he himself phoned the president of the corporation and told them that I was honest about the error, and that it was a mistake that I had made.

At that moment, I anticipated that my future deposits and withdrawals on behalf of this customer would be terminated.

But that was not to be.   I had a congenial rapport with my boss, but I didn’t think it would cover a $10,000 error.

I went home soon after this event.  Needless-to-say, my dinner appetite left town.   My night’s sleep didn’t go very well either as I knew that the following morning I would be meeting with the president of this corporation.  I also feared that my mistake would be announced to all of the other employees.  They were far more experienced in banking than I, and I was embarrassed. 

Morning came and off I went to work.   My heart was beating so fast that I thought my blouse would burst from the excessive pounding.   I actually arrived long before the bank would open.   I will never forget what happened next.

As I approached my desk, there was a nicely wrapped gift on my desk.  I assumed that “termination slips” would not be adorned in elegant wrapping paper.   I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Who in the world would be placing a gift on “my” desk, especially after the discovery of banking slip-up the previous afternoon?

This beautifully wrapped gift was from the president of this corporation, our largest customer.   Alongside the gift was a card, thanking me for my honesty.    Inside was a large bottle of my favorite cologne.  How did this man know?   How could anyone but my husband and the Lord know of my favorite cologne?

Later that morning, when the president arrived, he just looked at me and smiled.   I think I was small enough to crawl back into the box.   I just thanked him for his kindness and understanding and the LARGE dose of mercy and forgiveness.    He said he wanted me to know that he was so pleased that I was honest enough to admit the mistake and not blame it on another.

I can assure you that from that day on, I triple-checked every transaction.  And no, it never happened again.  What struck me was that often our admissions to wrong allow us the privilege of being forgiven and aid us in learning to walk in humility.   It also gave me a live illustration of “mercy.”

No, I am not a frequent flyer on the airlines, nor do I possess my husband’s frequent flyer card.  I fly “cattle car” status as does he.  At least that’s what it feels like when you’ve been on an aircraft for more than 4 hours sitting in economy class. 

At this particular time I was boarding a plane returning home to California from Columbus, Ohio.   If you’ve flown at all, you know that boarding a plane seems similar to herding cattle or sheep.   The airline personnel endeavor to collect 350 to 400 people and move them through a designated area to board this aircraft in an orderly fashion.   I won’t add further comment on this procedure except to say that not everyone wishes to follow their guidelines.

I try and travel light, for obvious reasons.  In my experience, it seems everyone wants to load their bags into the overhead bin regardless of their size.

Upon arrival onto the aircraft, a well-groomed flight attendant directed me toward my assigned seat.  In that there were a couple of hundred people behind me, I wasted no time in slipping into my seat and belting myself into position. 

I just started to relax a little when another passenger approached my aisle and gave me “the look.”   You know, “you’re in my seat look.”   They presented their seat number and what do you know, it was the same number as mine.   By this time the cabin crew noticed the kink in the flow of traffic in the aisle and approached us both.   If I were a child, the first phrase I may have used was, “I was here first.”   But I held my tongue….which at this point was a good thing to get hold of.

The other passenger was a bit more forceful in their tone of voice.  The flight attendant looked at me in despair and asked me to follow her, which I did.

My new assigned seat was now closer to the front of the plane.  Again, I sat down and secured my seat belt in position ready for our in-flight safety movie.   I no more than drew a sigh of relief, when another fellow passenger approached me with the same “look.”

By this time, I had my new assigned seat number memorized; and so I shared my designated location number with them and, you guessed it, they had the identical number.  This same crew member noticed the situation occurring again.  By this time, she was as frustrated as I was.

Since I now had experience in the “seat-relocation process,” I waited for her next directive, thinking she would leave me seated and relocate the other individual since I had already been inconvenienced in a prior move.

Her reaction to this was different.  She looked at me intently and said “follow me.”   It seemed that we were travelling upstream on that aircraft dogging people heading in the opposite direction. 

When we got to a space where the two of us could look each other in the eyes, she thanked me profusely for being so accommodating and understanding.  I was a bit inwardly embarrassed because I didn’t feel so understanding.   Shouldn’t we be glad people can’t read our minds.   I know God knows our thoughts and He was working on the  “patience character” in me that morning.

Then we arrived at my final seating assignment….FIRST CLASS!   Not just first class, I was seated in the first row of the first class cabin.

I turned to ask her the “why question,” but before those words could proceed from my mouth, she told me that because I was so patient and never expressed myself in a verbal eruption, she wanted to reward me with a first class seat.

Oh my, was I a happy camper.   Even as I was fastening my seat belt, I paused to wonder if I could be in another’s preassigned seat.  At last, I thought, I was “home in the right seat.”   Gratefulness was expressed all over my face.

I remember that the seat was on the aisle and the seat next to me was empty.   There was so much space in this section that I could have laid down and had a stack of books next to me, there was so much room.

The inflight safety instructions were being announced at this time and I was listening to every word, especially due to the fact I was sitting in first class and I wondered if they had different arrangements for exiting an aircraft.

Then a pilot appeared in front of me and proceeded to sit in the vacant seat next to me!   My goodness, this man was dressed in the airline uniform, hat and all; and I wondered why he was sitting in row #l, next to me.   Wasn’t he supposed to be in the cockpit?  

My goodness, had all the “seating confusion” earlier brought about this experience for my first class adventure.   As a little time passed, I discovered in conversation why this man was sitting next to me.    He was the pilot on the incoming flight and was now headed home.  Obviously, he was allowed to sit in first class.

Engines were started and we were soon up up and away.  This nice looking gentleman took off his hat and introduced himself to me.  I soon exposed my ignorance of first class travel and I shared with him that I had never flown first class before.   I must have sounded like a kid in a candy store.

This was a season when airline travel still offered meals on the domestic flights.  I was first to receive the delivery of a very nice meal served on fine china and silverware that was not stainless steel.  It was incredible service with linens all over the place.  I felt like a first class queen.  The only article missing was a red rose.

After dinner, this off-duty pilot asked me if I wanted another cup of tea.  Are you kidding, of course.  I didn’t say it like that.  I refined my response with a “that would be lovely, thank you.”

About this time, I could hardly believe all that was occurring in the way of airline meal service.  Not only was I the first served, I experienced a follow-up cup of tea by this off-duty pilot.    I was smiling from ear to ear almost not believing all that was taking place,  Ijust because I kept my emotions under control and my lips were sealed.

The flight would be about three and a half hours.  After dinner I settled back for a relaxing flight.   The pilot next to me made some general comments and I thought that would be about it for the verbal pleasantries.   But I could tell by the direction of the conversation, that this pilot was not only tired, he was tired of what life seemed to be offering him.    I was now assuming that he was a bit depressed.    Believe me, if a pilot is depressed, you want him seated….. and not in the cock pit.

The conversation went in a direction toward spiritual matters.  After listening to where he seemed to want to go in this communication, I introduced him to some comments about God.  The next thing I realized we were approaching our airport destination.  For those hours God opened up a dialogue about Him and how He cares for us.   We spoke together all those hours and at the end of the flight, the countenance of this pilot was incredibly joyful.     

He expressed to me how grateful he was that I was seated where I was located.   I realized afresh that God had orchestrated several moves in order to get me to that first class seat so that He could encourage this pilot through my words.

I will never forget the experience.  But there is more.   Just before landing I shared with the pilot that I had always wanted to see what it was like to be in the cockpit.   People are not allowed in that area, for good reasons.  He listened and chuckled.

The flight landed safely and over the loud speaker I heard an announcement I’ve never heard before.   They announced my name and asked me to remain seated after the landing.  Oh my, what in the world had I done?  The pilot left his seat next to me immediately upon the tires hitting the runway.

People were leaving the aircraft and I was alone in first class, wondering what in the world would become of this pause from exiting the aircraft.

Soon the off-duty pilot appeared and asked me to join him.  He took me upstairs and escorted me to the cockpit of this Boeing  747.  There were three airline pilots sitting in their seats as the pilot and I entered this area.   He introduced me and my “childhood wishes” were about to commence.   I was breathless at the sight of all those knobs and buttons.    The first comment from my lips were that I had always prayed for the pilots before a flight, but after seeing the display on the instrument panels throughout the cockpit, I told them I would really be praying for pilots on future flights.

They were very friendly and accommodating in their brief demo of procedures in the cockpit.  Just when I thought the experience was about to end, the actual pilot of the flight got up out of his seat and offered the seat to me.   I don’t remember breathing as I took my place in the captain’s chair.   They were wanting to take a photo but guess what:  my battery in my camera was flat.   Everyone laughed, but even though I don’t have the photo, the scene is forever etched in my mind.

When we belong to God’s family, He does indeed direct our steps (Psalm 37, verse 23).   Many times His direction would seem like a detour, but He knows where He wants to place us and seat us for His good purposes.

Now, if you’re a frequent flyer in first class and you need to be accompanied by an encourager who loves the Lord, please don’t hesitate to make a reservation in my name.  I’d be most delighted to sit next to you and share the goodness and care of the Lord.

No, I am not a frequent flyer on the airlines, nor do I possess my husband’s frequent flyer card.  I fly “cattle car” status as does he.  At least that’s what it feels like when you’ve been on an aircraft for more than 4 hours sitting in economy class. 

At this particular time I was boarding a plane returning home to California from Columbus, Ohio.   If you’ve flown at all, you know that boarding a plane seems similar to herding cattle or sheep.   The airline personnel endeavor to collect 350 to 400 people and move them through a designated area to board this aircraft in an orderly fashion.   I won’t add further comment on this procedure except to say that not everyone wishes to follow their guidelines.

I try and travel light, for obvious reasons.  In my experience, it seems everyone wants to load their bags into the overhead bin regardless of their size.

Upon arrival onto the aircraft, a well-groomed flight attendant directed me toward my assigned seat.  In that there were a couple of hundred people behind me, I wasted no time in slipping into my seat and belting myself into position. 

I just started to relax a little when another passenger approached my aisle and gave me “the look.”   You know, “you’re in my seat look.”   They presented their seat number and what do you know, it was the same number as mine.   By this time the cabin crew noticed the kink in the flow of traffic in the aisle and approached us both.   If I were a child, the first phrase I may have used was, “I was here first.”   But I held my tongue….which at this point was a good thing to get hold of.

The other passenger was a bit more forceful in their tone of voice.  The flight attendant looked at me in despair and asked me to follow her, which I did.

My new assigned seat was now closer to the front of the plane.  Again, I sat down and secured my seat belt in position ready for our in-flight safety movie.   I no more than drew a sigh of relief, when another fellow passenger approached me with the same “look.”

By this time, I had my new assigned seat number memorized; and so I shared my designated location number with them and, you guessed it, they had the identical number.  This same crew member noticed the situation occurring again.  By this time, she was as frustrated as I was.

Since I now had experience in the “seat-relocation process,” I waited for her next directive, thinking she would leave me seated and relocate the other individual since I had already been inconvenienced in a prior move.

Her reaction to this was different.  She looked at me intently and said “follow me.”   It seemed that we were travelling upstream on that aircraft dogging people heading in the opposite direction. 

When we got to a space where the two of us could look each other in the eyes, she thanked me profusely for being so accommodating and understanding.  I was a bit inwardly embarrassed because I didn’t feel so understanding.   Shouldn’t we be glad people can’t read our minds.   I know God knows our thoughts and He was working on the  “patience character” in me that morning.

Then we arrived at my final seating assignment….FIRST CLASS!   Not just first class, I was seated in the first row of the first class cabin.

I turned to ask her the “why question,” but before those words could proceed from my mouth, she told me that because I was so patient and never expressed myself in a verbal eruption, she wanted to reward me with a first class seat.

Oh my, was I a happy camper.   Even as I was fastening my seat belt, I paused to wonder if I could be in another’s preassigned seat.  At last, I thought, I was “home in the right seat.”   Gratefulness was expressed all over my face.

I remember that the seat was on the aisle and the seat next to me was empty.   There was so much space in this section that I could have laid down and had a stack of books next to me, there was so much room.

The inflight safety instructions were being announced at this time and I was listening to every word, especially due to the fact I was sitting in first class and I wondered if they had different arrangements for exiting an aircraft.

Then a pilot appeared in front of me and proceeded to sit in the vacant seat next to me!   My goodness, this man was dressed in the airline uniform, hat and all; and I wondered why he was sitting in row #l, next to me.   Wasn’t he supposed to be in the cockpit?  

My goodness, had all the “seating confusion” earlier brought about this experience for my first class adventure.   As a little time passed, I discovered in conversation why this man was sitting next to me.    He was the pilot on the incoming flight and was now headed home.  Obviously, he was allowed to sit in first class.

Engines were started and we were soon up up and away.  This nice looking gentleman took off his hat and introduced himself to me.  I soon exposed my ignorance of first class travel and I shared with him that I had never flown first class before.   I must have sounded like a kid in a candy store.

This was a season when airline travel still offered meals on the domestic flights.  I was first to receive the delivery of a very nice meal served on fine china and silverware that was not stainless steel.  It was incredible service with linens all over the place.  I felt like a first class queen.  The only article missing was a red rose.

After dinner, this off-duty pilot asked me if I wanted another cup of tea.  Are you kidding, of course.  I didn’t say it like that.  I refined my response with a “that would be lovely, thank you.”

About this time, I could hardly believe all that was occurring in the way of airline meal service.  Not only was I the first served, I experienced a follow-up cup of tea by this off-duty pilot.    I was smiling from ear to ear almost not believing all that was taking place,  Ijust because I kept my emotions under control and my lips were sealed.

The flight would be about three and a half hours.  After dinner I settled back for a relaxing flight.   The pilot next to me made some general comments and I thought that would be about it for the verbal pleasantries.   But I could tell by the direction of the conversation, that this pilot was not only tired, he was tired of what life seemed to be offering him.    I was now assuming that he was a bit depressed.    Believe me, if a pilot is depressed, you want him seated….. and not in the cock pit.

The conversation went in a direction toward spiritual matters.  After listening to where he seemed to want to go in this communication, I introduced him to some comments about God.  The next thing I realized we were approaching our airport destination.  For those hours God opened up a dialogue about Him and how He cares for us.   We spoke together all those hours and at the end of the flight, the countenance of this pilot was incredibly joyful.     

He expressed to me how grateful he was that I was seated where I was located.   I realized afresh that God had orchestrated several moves in order to get me to that first class seat so that He could encourage this pilot through my words.

I will never forget the experience.  But there is more.   Just before landing I shared with the pilot that I had always wanted to see what it was like to be in the cockpit.   People are not allowed in that area, for good reasons.  He listened and chuckled.

The flight landed safely and over the loud speaker I heard an announcement I’ve never heard before.   They announced my name and asked me to remain seated after the landing.  Oh my, what in the world had I done?  The pilot left his seat next to me immediately upon the tires hitting the runway.

People were leaving the aircraft and I was alone in first class, wondering what in the world would become of this pause from exiting the aircraft.

Soon the off-duty pilot appeared and asked me to join him.  He took me upstairs and escorted me to the cockpit of this Boeing  747.  There were three airline pilots sitting in their seats as the pilot and I entered this area.   He introduced me and my “childhood wishes” were about to commence.   I was breathless at the sight of all those knobs and buttons.    The first comment from my lips were that I had always prayed for the pilots before a flight, but after seeing the display on the instrument panels throughout the cockpit, I told them I would really be praying for pilots on future flights.

They were very friendly and accommodating in their brief demo of procedures in the cockpit.  Just when I thought the experience was about to end, the actual pilot of the flight got up out of his seat and offered the seat to me.   I don’t remember breathing as I took my place in the captain’s chair.   They were wanting to take a photo but guess what:  my battery in my camera was flat.   Everyone laughed, but even though I don’t have the photo, the scene is forever etched in my mind.

When we belong to God’s family, He does indeed direct our steps (Psalm 37, verse 23).   Many times His direction would seem like a detour, but He knows where He wants to place us and seat us for His good purposes.

Now, if you’re a frequent flyer in first class and you need to be accompanied by an encourager who loves the Lord, please don’t hesitate to make a reservation in my name.  I’d be most delighted to sit next to you and share the goodness and care of the Lord.