It’s time for a huge chuckle.  So set your funny bone in place and prepare for hysterical laughter from this true event.   It’s been a long time since this scenario took place, but I remember it as though it happened last week. 

My husband and I hadn’t been married but a few months.  He was born in Scotland and grew up in New Zealand.   Now those cultures are a bit different from the culture in the United States.  Many times people will use the phrase, “Next time you’re in our area, stop by.”   I’ve found that it is used rather frequently, but not always sincerely spoken. 

My husband travelled extensively in the country of New Zealand and met many lovely people over the years.   He was now married only a few months, but word spread that he and his wife were now living in Canada.  The English and Scottish cultures were accustomed to being very hospitable.   My husband would share with me that he would often be bringing home kids from school at various hours and his Mom always had biscuits or a dinner in-the-making ready to share with anyone.   I would refer to these visitors as “drop ins.”    There were no rules or understanding about calling first and seeing if it was convenient

Knowing him, he would have shared with most all the people he visited that if they were ever in our area, “please come and stay.” 

Well I think this is sufficient information for you prior to reading the following occurences.

We hadn’t been married more than three months when our “drop ins” (I mean visitors) began arriving.    The phone would ring, and it didn’t take an interpreter to ascertain the accents on the other end of the telephone.   It would be a New Zealand accent, for sure.  My general response upon answering the phone was, “Are you at the airport, or bus depot?  Sometimes their response would be “No, but we are leaving for the airport tomorrow and wondered if you would be home for the next week or so?”

This new adventure-call came in the late afternoon.   My husband answered the phone and voila, visitors from New Zealand.    I can’t count the number of couples we had enjoyed having prior to this call, so I was beginning to adjust to on-the-call visitors.    I could surmise by the conversation, that they had already “arrived” and were hoping for transportation from the airport to the local hotel (our home). 

All was going according to plan in response to the recent call-in agenda, and we got into the car and headed for the airport.   There wasn’t much conversation between my husband and I, and I wondered if there was more to this pick-up routine than expected.  Was there ever!!!!!

“There’s something I need to tell you, were my husband’s warning words.”   “What’s wrong, or what do I need to know?” I inquired.   Then the penny dropped, so-to-speak.    My husband proceeded to tell me about our arriving house guests and how I should “properly address” the couple who would be arriving.    The man should be addressed as Sir Peter Tait and his wife would be respond to Lady Tait.   In the last few minutes of our excursion to the airport my husband told me that he had been knighted by Queen Elizabeth II.   This couples’ soon-to-be accommodation was our very small home, three tiny bedrooms and the only red carpet would be a tiny red throw rug. 

Has your chin dropped to the floor yet?   I mean, how would you be feeling with this up-to-the-minute news flash?   At this point, I couldn’t even answer.   And even if I tried to, at this point we were pulling into the airport.  He said they were very nice people and he thought they would be easy to have for a few days.

As I’m recalling this new adventure, I’m smiling from ear to ear as I know how the events took a joyful turn.  As I think about it now, at the time, I thought about having a nervous breakdown on receiving my husband’s instructions, but in that we were on our way to our local airport, there just wasn’t time.   (Laughter!)

We pulled up at the arrivals and it took no time to see a pair of hands waving enthusiastically toward our direction.   They were waiting patiently at curbside for their concierge service.   They were very friendly, and most appreciative that we would be delighted to have them for part of their vacation in Canada, specifically, our home for a week.

Attentive to my on-the-way-to-the-airport instructions about how to greet them…..yes, Sir Peter and Lady Tait.  Got it!     After our hello hugs to greet them, I began addressing them in the proper manner.   Sir Peter and Lady Tait.   It took less than two seconds to  be told to call them Pete and Lil from then on.  That was the etiquette they wanted.

Everything was going well and I was able to throw together an evening dinner and they had an early-to-bed evening.    The following morning, Lady Tait, or Lillian as I began calling her, arose and came out for breakfast.   Her hair wasn’t exactly in perfect location all over her head.   She had a wonderful sense of humor and we laughed at the mountain peaks her hair was in.  As we both laughed, I made the comment that I always enjoyed coiffuring, shall we say, other peoples’ hair.  In other words, I enjoy putting friends’ hair in rollers, parking them under a dryer, and styling their hair.   I felt safe enough to ask her if she wanted me to work with her mountain hair peaks.   She couldn’t blurt out the affirmative fast enough.

So, after breakfast, Lady Tait and her new hairdresser went to work.  We laughed and carried on like two little school girls, and when it was all over (but the shouting), she looked gorgeous and felt grateful.   I was so thrilled that she allowed me this privilege of getting up close and personal to this member of royalty.

This couple visited us on a regular basis throughout the years, and  I remember they stayed in almost every home we lived in for the next number of years.  They even brought other couples with them.  It was a joy and delight to learn the lesson again and again to JUST BE YOURSELF, and to LOVE THOSE GOD BRINGS INTO YOUR HOME.

They are both at home with Jesus now.  But I shall look forward to seeing them in heaven and reuniting with such fun and down-to-earth people.

I think too that we should treat everyone who enters our homes like ROYALTY….because everyone needs to know they “are special”………….. because God Himself designed them.

Now……….when are YOU coming to our home?????

This story will introduce two secret fears I’ve experienced over and over in my life. Prepare yourself for a chuckle on this one even before we get started.   My fear was my sewing machine.   Now I realize that sewing machines are tools.  They don’t speak, they don’t sing and they don’t throw tantrums.  They’re not designed to rip us off.  They are designed to pull fabric together in a beautiful, tight-stitch way that when appropriately sewn, would provide something lovely to wear, adorn a window, or beautify a place in your home.

But in order for a sewing machine to be effective and efficient in operation, it first requires a human agent to lift it out of its case, plug it into the electrical outlet, turn on the switch, and then proceed with material at hand.  

Now, my challenge is not in lifting the machine out of the case, plugging it into the outlet, or turning it on.  My “fear challenge” is not only working with the material in such a way that it proceeds through the needle pathway in a straight direction, but that when I’m finished with interpreting the details indicated on the sheet of directions, that it all comes together in such a way that the finished product can either be worn, or displayed in some fashion.    My experience lacks both accomplishments.

In high school I took a leap of faith and signed up for a “sewing class.”   If it hadn’t been for the teacher working with me step-by-step and moment-by-moment, I never would have never finished the dress.    And for those interested, I never wore that dress in public….ever!   It was navy blue trimmed with a white color, and the only place it adorned later in its life was the trash can.

At this point I need to express my other fear.  It’s the fear of “directions.”    This fear has progressed into other areas of my thinking.   Whenever someone says to me, “just read the directions,” I simply and silently freeze up in my mind.

Before you begin your laughter and finger-pointing, let me ask you….”when was the last time you read instructions on putting together a bicycle, or figuring out computer directions.”   Need I say anything further?   

Let’s be honest, I’d love to meet some of the people who write these, so-called, user-friendly directions.   After reading certain instructions, my first question is “why don’t they just speak plain English?”

Before continuing with my saga…..I must share a dear friend’s attitude about learning skills on the computer.    She feels the same about computer instructions as I do, and to quote her, “She doesn’t have what you’d call a friendship with her computer, but they are at least on speaking terms.”  

I wasn’t even on speaking terms with my sewing machine.    Her husband purchased a nice new sewing machine for her.   As her husband was bringing the machine into the house, their ten year old son noticed the new arrival and blurted out, “Oh Dad, don’t take that in the house, she’ll kill herself with it.”

In that you now are on the same page of understanding with me regarding one of my fears, let me share the other sewing fear that corresponds to this sewing machine story.  This second fear is how to place the material under the needle and move it along in such a way that the finished stitches are in a straight line.    I’ve had many unsuccessful attempts at this; thus, my sewing machine went into retirement (the closet) for a long, long time.

Many years ago I was in the home of three dear friends.  The common “thread” (funny that I should use the word) in each of their homes was the fact that their window coverings were all “handmade” shall we say.   All of them were a gorgeous display around the window casings.

One morning, as I was doing one of my favorite things (sipping tea from a fine china cup), I asked the friend I was with about her drapes (or window coverings as I call them).    She proceeded to share how one would go about making them yourself.   I was keen to take in every instructional detail.   At the end of this “instructional dissertation,” my mind went to tilt.   In other words, everything she shared seemed to evaporate from my head.  

A few weeks later, another friend invited me to her home for tea.  She invited me to her kitchen table as she prepared her luscious and fragrant tea.   There in front of me were some lovely scalloped curtains.   I couldn’t help but notice how straight they hung, and I even got a glimpse of the stitches.   They were lined up like little stringed soldiers….in perfect alignment. 

By now you’ll surmise the conversation that was about to take place.   My friend served the tea and I began complimenting her on her lovely fabric and the design of the window covering before me.    Her immediate response was that she had made them.  

Now I’m thinking, I’ve got some clever friends in my life, and here was another one who was talented in that arena.

I shared my “fear challenge” about directions and she was prompt to tell me that she didn’t use a pattern.    What?  No pattern?  No instructions?   I was now more than interested in what she had to say.   When she finished sharing “her instructions,” I thought to myself, “Hey, I might be willing to try.”

After the tea party in her kitchen I went home, and the first thing I did was pray.   Yes, I spoke with the Lord (who is interested in every detail of our lives) and asked that He would send someone along to help me not only interpret a pattern’s instruction sheet, but help me learn how to sew a straight stitch.

You’re going to love to see how this adventure ends!!!!!!!!!

Within a few weeks, I was in another friend’s home and guess what?    Her window coverings jumped right out at me and told me to take notice and ask questions.   I was prompt to obey my inner admonition.   My friend was fabulous in sharing how she had made the ones I was admiring and told me how I could make them.

Truth time!   I shared my fears with her and she encouraged me that I could learn how to sew, and that if I was willing, she would work with me in the process.    At that point I don’t think she was fully aware of what that process would involve.   It would require a great amount of patience and a sense of humor to get me through.

She was just the “one” God sent my way in answer to my prayer requesting help in walking me through the steps of sewing a beautiful window covering.

This friend was so encouraging and more than on-board with wanting to help me.   We made arrangements to spend an “entire day” buying the fabric, measuring the patio window (that was currently bald of fabric), introducing me to my sewing machine and completing the project of a lovely hunter green window covering.

She realized my fear, so her suggestion was to purchase a flat twin sheet (hunter green in color to go with the color scheme in our home) and make a curtain out of that fabric instead of spending money on an expensive fabric.   Smart choice I thought.  After all, if I ruined it, it would only be a few dollars down the tube.

After a lengthy, but fairly simplistic explanation of what we were going to attempt, I felt enthusiastic about trying.

The trick about sewing a straight stitch was incredible.   I would imagine that most of you reading this story are fully aware of the idea.   But we used a piece of masking tape and placed it in the area to the right of the needle in the location that measured out the width the stitch should be sewn at.   Then all I had to do was place the edge of the material along the tape, and voila…..a straight stitch.

This friend was a “gift” to me from the Lord.   She had four children she had to make arrangements and provide for so she could spend that 8 hours with me.   Yes, we finished the valence.   I called them “poofs” at the time.  They were gorgeous, and I was grateful.

That has been over 20 years ago and since that time, and my sewing has gone from a simple valence, to long and fabric-lined drapes.  I’ve even shown others how to make some elegant window coverings without using a pattern.   For some, reading and interpreting instructions seem easy, for others, it is not.   And I’m in the “not category.”

The lessons I learned from that friend about sewing and creativity with fabric, really isn’t as important as the principles and people behind it all.   Firstly, God!   He is the One who helped me want to deal with my two practical fears; and then, He orchestrated my steps to a dear person who wanted to make herself available to Him to use in another person’s life.

There are two words that bring have shown me about their value.  They are “ordinary” and “availability.”   God loves both and uses both in our lives.  If we are willing to get in line with God’s activity in our life journey, He can bring others along our life’s path and bless “them” through us.

Sewing is an ordinary activity!   But availability on the part of my friend was crucial.   She was sensitive to God and to the fact that one of His kids wanted to learn to sew.   Another quality that expressed itself through her, was not only availability, but that she sacrificed her precious family time for me.

My friend, and you know who you are, thank you for being “my teacher and mentor” in this practical area.   Every time I look at a beautiful drapery fabric, or a twin flat sheet, I think and give thanks to the Lord for using you in my life in such a dear and practical way.   Even to this day, as my eye may catch a glimpse at a pretty window treatment, I give thanks to the Lord and think of you.

Her famous words to me regarding creativity with fabric are:

                   LET ‘ER RIP …and don’t be afraid to create.

My prayer is that God would “help me see” the ordinary opportunities He presents to me, and that I would be available to be used….even when maybe it’s not convenient.  I think that’s called sacrificial.

                       ORDINARY  –  AVAILABLE  –  SACRIFICIAL

Lord, may these qualities be woven by You into my character that my life may be a blessing to others.   Amen

We enjoy having people over for dinner!   It may take place in the backyard, kitchen or dining room, but wherever we’re seated, we can be sure of laughter being part of the experience.

This event turned out so surprisingly that I just had to share what transpired.  I seldom remember what we serve people to eat, but on this occasion I tried a new way to serve vegetables.  Rather than place the various vegetables in separate dishes, I made a platter of them.   I placed the cauliflower, dripping with cheese sauce in the center, and I placed some other veggies around it.  It’s an amazing trick I learned from one of my friends.   It not only looks attractive, it also gives the appearance of an abundance of food.   And on this evening, that was important.   Just for the record, the main entrée was roast pork.

We had invited a couple over for dinner that were visiting in the southern California area.   My husband had done some consulting work for this individual who was the president of a Christian University in Canada, but I had never met he or his wife, so this was our first time socially, and we were anxious to see them and enjoy the evening together.  This evening I had set a lovely table in the dining room.   I was just adding a few touches to the table, when my husband noticed their arrival in front of our home.  All was ready just to pull out of the oven, so I was in good shape.

“There’s more coming, he exclaimed.”  What?  We had invited two, how could there be more than that.   “They brought their three teenage children!”   From the moment those words proceeded out of my husband’s vocal chords, I flew through the kitchen for three more plates and utensils.   I can’t remember the speed in which I rearranged the place settings on the table and shoved three more dishes and cuttlery in place.   

As I’m feverishly moving items in place, my husband is giving me an up-to-the-second arrival schedule.   When the doorbell rang, I was out of breath.   In walked this couple with their three teenage children.   They’re a lovely family and we were pleased to have them all, but how could I have made such a numerical blunder.

Everyone was greeted and made their way to the dining table.  I’m still processing more oxygen to get the roast and veggies out of the oven.   I can honestly say that the new idea of the veggies on the platter was a hit for the unexpected additional arrivals.

The conversation around the table was full of laughter with the update about their lives and ours.   When dessert was served I brought out a pecan pie.   My husband was pouring the tea and I began the slicing event of 7 pieces of pie, one for each guest.   And you’ll never believe it, but there was one piece left.  

I can’t remember how the topic came up, but we finally let the cat out of the bag about not realizing their children would be coming with them to our home.   You could hear the gasps from all of them, but we soon assured them of their welcome.   By this time we were all laughing “uncontrollably” about the situation.   Then I glanced over at the lonely piece of pie remaining.  I lost all sense of appropriateness and grabbed the pie dish, and began passing it to the person on my left indicating that we were all going to get involved in eating this last piece of pie.   We were still laughing about the situation.  

Even today, when I serve a pork roast to guests, my mind goes back to the evening when more came to dinner than were ever expected.   It brings a chuckle to my heart even as I write about it today.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that when you invite guests, it never hurts to have an abundance of veggies and bread and butter just in case more show up as an unexpected, but delightful surprise.

This couple became dear friends through the years and we would often look back with laughter at the wonderful surprise God had in store for my husband and I that evening.   This dinner event taught me to welcome “whoever” walks through the door of our home, and that you can serve crackers and cheese, or a full dinner to them.   It doesn’t matter the cuisine, but the love with which it’s served.    Laughter accompanied our dessert that evening and secured a loving and lasting relationship with them all.

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!