What Happens in Vegas...

How you react to situations, can say a lot about you...

How do you react to situations? Do you get angry easily, overly dramatic, laid back, cautious? The way someone reacts to a circumstance can say a lot about who they are as a person. If I had to label myself, I would put me in the cautious category. I tend to be a few steps ahead of the game, peering over my shoulder here and there. I think experiences in life has formed me into the person I am. "Rather be too careful, then not ," I always say. Quickly emotions can go from cautious to fearful, depending on my ability to control the situation at hand. But, what if a situation is totally out of my control?

My husband and I entered the grand foyer of a Las Vegas Hotel and Casino. Polished marble, elegant chandeliers and large displays of flowers made for a soothing atmosphere. The sound of chimes and bells echoed in the background, as we pulled our luggage across the shiny floor. "Sounds like someone just won something!" I said to my husband with a smile, as we passed by the main casino floor. We made our way up to the front desk to check in, and were promptly greeted by an overly cheerful receptionist. "Welcome to The Golden Nugget! Are you checking in with us today?" I don't think she ever blinked. I watched as she typed our information into the computer. "Here we are! I have you staying for two nights, is that correct?" My husband reached back for his credit card, "Yes, that is right." She continued to punch keys on the computer, all the while never breaking eye contact with us. Finally she stopped and swiped something through the machine. "Here is your room key, and a directory of the casino. We hope you enjoy your stay!" she concluded. We both walked away and headed toward the elevators. "Fourteenth floor?", I said, "I heard fire ladders can't reach you above the seventh floor." My husband turned to assure me, "Nothings going to happen, its fine." I sighed, as I glanced back down at the room key.

A full day of site seeing, eating, and losing money went by. It was two o'clock in the morning and we were both exhausted. As we made it back into our room, we prepared to go to bed. "Ugh, I smell like smoke!" I made a disgusted face, as I tossed my jacket over a chair. I made my way over to the bed and carefully got in, without touching the bedspread. (Be watching for a future story on my paranoia with hotel rooms!) We both laid there recapping the days events. I interrupted my husband with, "Are you doing that?" He replied, "Doing what?" I laid there for a few seconds trying to determine if the room was moving. "Are you moving the bed?" I questioned him again. "No. I'm just laying here," he said as he too took notice of the swaying bed. He put his hand up against the wall and sure enough the whole room was swaying! I jumped out of bed and flipped on the light switch. With wide eyes I yelled, "It's an earthquake!"

I quickly scrambled around the room trying to recall the procedure during such an event. I shouted to my husband, "Get in the bath tub!" Still in bed he answered, "That's for a tornado, Jenn." I searched the room for something to protect us, in case walls and ceilings began to crumple. Ah ha! The door frame. I remember seeing something about the strongest part of the structure being the door frame...or something along those lines. I made my way over and stood in the door way of the bathroom. "Would you get out of bed and get over here?" I said, annoyed that he was still in bed. "Honestly Jenn, we on the fourteenth floor, I don't think a door frame will save you," he replied. The room continued to sway for just a few seconds longer, then everything was still. I stood, in silence, waiting to hear something, anything. My husband finally managed to get up and made his way over to the window. "Don't get too close!" I yelled. "Everything looks normal," he said calmly while pulling the curtains back. I inched my way across the floor (eeww, gross!) and made my way to him. Hey, a girl can't be too careful! "What do we do now," I asked him. We both agreed, it would probably be a good idea to head downstairs for a bit. So, with my hair in a bun, Clearasil on my blemishes, and pajama bottoms on, I grabbed my purse and we headed toward the door.


As we opened the room door, we were hit with an awful odor. We watched as water poured from the hallway ceiling down to the floor. "Looks a sewer pipe broke," another guest pointed out to us. As we entered the stairwell, there was a line of people with the same idea as us. We all chatted about our "near death" experience. The range of emotion went from a woman crying, to a shirtless man happy to head back downstairs for more beer. I realized at this point that I probably had more time to change my clothes, before leaving the room. Oddly enough, the gift shop was still open, so I ducked inside to buy a "Golden Nugget" sweatshirt. As I made my purchase, sirens announced the arrival of a firetruck. "Is there a fire?" I quickly asked the cashier. "No, they have to clear the building and make sure no real damage was done," she said while chopping on her gum. We made our way outside to join the crowds of people, speculating to one another. You know how there is always that one stranger who knows everything going on? Well, I had the unfortunate event of having to stand next to him for two hours. Come to find out, we had only felt shock waves of an earthquake that had actually hit in California. By about four o'clock in the morning we were finally given the all clear, to head back to our rooms. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, wondering if the ceiling was finally going to give way.


Looking back now, several years later, I laugh about it. I looked completely ridiculous that night. As my husband laid calm, I ran around yelling, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!" Just knowing there was a possibility of death that night, I over reacted out of fear. Why did I over react? I wasn't ready to die. I knew in my heart that had that been my time to go, I was not spiritually where I needed to be. I had placed God on the back burner and I tried to be in control of the things in my life. Again, I was reminded how fragile life can be. Again, I had been put into a situation that made me open my eyes to the seriousness of life. You've heard the saying, "We live, then we die. It's what you did in between that counts." So true. How do you react to situations in your life? Oddly enough, it is an accurate way to determine where you are spiritually. What does your behavior say about you?

"Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV)

The Grip of Fear

When fear takes over true living...

First off, let me apologize to any insect/bug lovers. If you are known to pick up a insect inside the house and move them back to the great outdoors, then you may not want to read any further. I don't want to be responsible for your therapy bill :).

I have a fear of spiders. I think it all started when I was visiting my cousins as a child, and we watched the movie "Arachnophobia", with John Goodman. Every scene involved spiders taking over. Completely unrealistic, yet terrifying at the same time. Okay, who am I kidding...I am afraid of all bugs and insects. Have I been known to toss a child in front of me, when a bee approaches? Guilty. Have I made my small child kill a spider, while I screamed up on a chair? Guilty. I know in my previous story, "Ginger's Lucky Day!", I talked about saving life. Let me just clarify that bugs and insects do not make my list. There is just something about the little crawlers that creeps me out. They are quick and small, making it very difficult to catch. And the crunchy ones? Don't even get me started on them! What do I do when I see a bug and no one is there to rescue me? I find the nearest shoe (flip flops are lousy) or unload a whole can of bug spray. It's not a pretty sight, picture Survivor meets CSI.

I wish I could say that my fears ended there. But, everything comes in threes, right? Well, drive me over a bridge and you'll get to experience fear number two! Why does that scare me? Everyone knows the bridge is going to collapse when MY van drives over it. It may have been standing sturdy for decades, but my little van will be the breaking point. Right? Right??  Boy, I feel silly just typing it. It's not just bridges, but heights in general. One year we visited Hershey Amusement Park and my husband thought it would be a good idea to do the "Kissing Tower" ride. As romantic as it sounds, this ride is a large enclosed cabin that holds fifty five riders and climbs two hundred and fifty feet into the thin air. It then rotates slowly clockwise, providing riders with a panoramic view of the park. Oh, and did I mention it was built back in 1975?! I tried to squirm out of it, until the kids began to plea, "Pleeease mom, come with us. It will be fun." Fun? Yeah, right. I made my way to the entrance doors (like any good mom would have) and watched them close behind me. "Bye," I quietly said to the world. As the cabin climbed up the tower, I felt my heart begin to race. My palms got sweaty and my breathing became shallow. "Isn't this view beautiful?" my husband exclaimed. "Uh huh," I replied with my eyes closed. I dare not move, for fear that I would some how fall through the reinforced, shatter-proof glass window, and plummet to my death. Again, unrealistic, but there is always a first time for everything! After a couple of minutes of slowly spinning in the sky, we began to descend back to earth. I think at one point I even heard the angels sing.

Next on my list, confined spaces; tunnels, MRI machines, and the tube slide. If I don't have a way to get out 360 degrees, then I don't want to enter it. Recently, we had to drive through a tunnel...under water! To make matters worse, I was driving! With white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, and my husband laughing in the seat next to me, I made my way through it. What got me through it? I focused on the faint light that gleamed at the end of the tunnel. Sure it wasn't visible at first, but the further I drove, the brighter it shined. I couldn't focus on the cars in the next lane, or the water drips from the ceiling, but only on the beam that was going to eventually set me free.

Did my fears cause me to miss out on something spectacular? Absolutely. Being afraid to look over the bridge edge, I missed a beautiful sunset on the lake horizon. As fear griped me in the tower, I missed out on the awesome view of God's creation. During my journey through the tunnel, I wasn't able to appreciate the awe of actually driving under water. It makes me question, what else have I been missing? I know first hand how fear can captivate someones thoughts. It can get to the point that we use the fear as a crutch. Many of us find it easier to rely on the crutch (fear) our whole life, rather then leaning on God. Maybe you're too focused on the water drips and fear of the tunnel collapsing, to even notice that the light is just around the corner. It was there the whole time, waiting for you to arrive, leaving all dismay behind. What fear has you so captivated, that it currently stands between you and the light? Finances, marriage, relationships, maybe even death itself. Are you willing to let go and fully trust God to see you through it?

"The Lord is my light and my salvation-whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life-of whom shall I be afraid?" Psalm 27:1

Side note: Okay, so in writing this I realize I may be setting myself up. Let's just say some of my friends are pranksters. Perhaps now would be a good time to throw a verse at them... Ephesians 4:32 "...Be kind one to another..." *wink, wink*!

Ginger's Lucky Day!

A rainy day, a desperate dog, and a determined wife...

Have you ever saved anything? I'm not talking about newspapers, buttons, or empty containers. I am talking about the kind of save where someones or somethings life was dependant on you. It could be as small as the bug you found in your living room and relocated back outside. Perhaps it was as big as another humans life. Either way, that person or thing was dependant on you, and you alone.

My journey to save a life began on a cold, rainy afternoon in October of 2007. It was early morning and our family was waken up to the sound of rain beating on the windows. Oh great, another day indoors, with nothing to do, I thought as I opened my eyes. I crawled out of bed, searched for my Mickey Mouse slippers and made my way to the coffee maker. There is something about a dark, gloomy morning that makes coffee taste that much better! As I poured the kids their cereal, I had noticed that they were already getting bored. Their energy level was rapidly exceeding my tolerance, so I had to come up with a game plan...or risk losing my mind today. I pondered the possibilities; a movie, bowling, play a board game, or hours of endless video games. Hmmm, what to do? I thought it would be best to let them jump, run, and scream, in an environment other than the house. So, we loaded up the kids and my husband and I headed over to a local indoor play center.

We pulled into the plaza parking lot, that housed the play center. With windshield wipers going full speed, I quickly went over the evacuation plan. Why is this necessary, you ask? Because, every time it rains my children strive to locate every possible puddle from the van to the store. With umbrellas in hand we darted for the play center entrance. As we stood under the awning, shaking the rain off the umbrellas, I noticed something moving out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look toward the shop next door and there a large, gingersnap-colored dog stood. I gasped, as I handed my umbrella to my husband and started to walk toward the dog. "What are you doing, Jenn...oh no...Jenn," my husband said as he quickly noticed where I was heading. Brief history: I have a passion for stray animals. My husband on the other hand, does not. I have been known to pull the car over, get out and chase strays for blocks!

With my husband beckoning me from behind, I continued to move slowly toward the dog, with my hand outstretched. "Hey there doggy! Come here...c'mon girl," I said as I lowered myself to the ground. With tail wagging she greeted me, with sadness in her eyes. I reached over to pet her and noticed she was soaking wet from all of the rain. I ran my hand down the middle of her back, where her ribs and hip bones were easily visible. She was excessively underweight, suggesting she didn't have a source of food. I turned back to my husband, "Ooohhh Honey, look at her." I waited for the expected response, as I continued to pet the stray. "No Jenn, come on, let's go inside," he replied on cue. I turned to face the dog again. She looked up at me with her deep brown eyes, and black face, almost to say, "Don't leave me." Pathetic, I know, but it broke my heart to walk away from her.

I entered the play center with my husband and kids and for the next hour I sat by the window, watching as the dog walked up and down the plaza. My guess was, she was trying to stay dry and possibly look for food. Score! Two construction workers parked in a truck decided to toss some chips out the window. She ran over as fast as she could, retrieving her only meal for the day, I suspected. I whirled around to face my husband, "Look at her out there. It is so sad and just breaks my heart. No food and no warm bed to sleep in." I had the look in my eye, and he knew it. "Jenn, you know we can't take her in. We are leaving in two days for vacation," my husband tried to reason. I decided it was time to go to bat for the homeless dog. "She needs us. She's going to die, just look at her! I really think we should do this." Now, don't misunderstand me here. It's not like I am a 'pet hoarder' or anything. We only had one other pet at home, a small Lhasa Apso named Maddie.

I slowly rose from my chair and headed toward the door. As I pushed the door open, the stray ran over to greet me again, looking for more food I suppose. She had a kind, yet broken spirit about her. I knelt down again and began to pet her some more. You could tell she didn't get a lot of affection, and loved every minute of it. Just then, the door to the shop next to us opened. "She's around here all the time. Doesn't appear to have a real home," the store clerk said, as she lit up her cigarette. "Oh?" I responded. The clerk continued, "She's a sweet dog, just needs a little cleaning up." I nodded in agreement, as my husband walked over to join us. After discussion back and forth, my husband reluctantly agreed to let me take her home. He gathered up the kids, and made the dash in the rain to the van. He pulled up to the curb, and opened the sliding door. Almost as if the dog knew she was heading to a better place, she gladly hopped in on command.

As we drove home, with a stray wet dog in the backseat, we all tried to come up with a name for her. After many names, we settled on "Ginger", as she was the color of a gingersnap cookie. I called over to my vet to get the dog in to be checked out. Luckily, she was able to see the dog immediately. After a thorough examination, the veterinarian entered back into the room with Ginger. "Well, Mrs. Van Dahm, it looks like Ginger is about three years old. She has a bit of a flea problem and some ear mites. She is only 55 pounds and should be at 80 pounds for her build. But, she appears to have something else going on as well," she said as she sat down on her stool. "Ginger tested positive for heart worm. To cure her level of it will require a two month treatment. Think of it as Chemo treatment to a human." I stared at her, not quite sure what my 'other' option would be. There is always another option, right? She continued, "Without treatment, the heart worm will eventually add enough strain to the dog's heart and will end up killing her." Now stunned I asked, "So, what you are saying is that either the dog gets the treatment or dies? How much money are we talking?" The veterinarian started to click her pen (not a good sign), "Yes, that is correct. She is in the early stage of the disease, so I feel we could cure this. You're looking at about $1,000 to $1,500, when all is said and done. I would need to keep her here for a few days, as she needs to remain confined. To much excitement could increase her blood pressure, dislodging the worms during treatment." She must of heard me gasp, as she then threw in there, "I know you just found her, and I completely understand if you rather hand her over to the Humane Society." I sat in the chair, speechless, that out of all the stray dogs in the world, I took in the one with a costly disease. "Will they cure her at the Humane Society?" I asked innocently. She shot me a 'are you serious look', and professionally replied with, "No, they can't afford the treatments. They would most likely put her down."

There I sat, tears welling up in my eyes, a dog staring up at me, and a veterinarian waiting for a life altering answer. Talk about pressure! "Let me give you a few minutes to think about it," the veterinarian said as she walked toward the door. As the door closed, my eyes fell upon the dog. Her face softened as she lay on the floor, with her head on my foot. "What do I do girl?" I said to her softly. I sat in silence and went over my pros and cons. I had a tug in my heart that I couldn't shake off. Do I pay the price, so that she might have life? It would be a sacrifice for us financially, but I will of saved her from death. I had made up my mind, this was going to be Ginger's lucky day!

That was years ago, and I am happy to report that Ginger is still with us, healthy, happy, and overweight! She has been a true blessing to our family. Sure we had to pay a debt, in order to give her life....but the reward was definitely worth it! I guess you could say I was her "savior". I know of a man who paid a much larger debt, thus giving ME life. Like Ginger, He took me in, even though I needed some "cleaning up". He saved me from despair, and one day, he too will bring me home. I call him my Savior, Jesus Christ. Do you know him?

"I have come that they may have life, and they may have it more abundantly." John 10:10 (NKJV)

Socks & Perverts & Spies...Oh My!

Who knew shopping for socks could be so fun...

Being watched...it can be very uncomfortable. I often find myself wondering, What are they looking at? At times I can actually form a complex over it. Is my hair out of place? Food in my teeth? Oh no, is my skirt tucked up into my pantyhose again? There is something so powerful about peoples thoughts and the affect it can have on us. I feel too often, we tend to read into more than what is actually there. Our complex forces us to assume the worst. We may say, "I think they are staring at me because this shirt makes me look fat." Where in reality, they were most likely staring at you because they absolutely loved the print on the shirt and wonder where you bought it. Why is it then, that we always assume the worst?

I recall shopping in a well-known, large mega mart. My husband and I would go there every week to pick up odds and ends, perhaps even some groceries. I had my list (I love lists!) of things that I needed to get that day:
1. vitamins
2. diapers
3. work jeans
4. socks
5. bananas

I glanced over my list as we entered the store and grabbed a shopping cart. I was in need of new socks, and since the women's department was the closest, that's the direction we headed in first. As I entered the aisle I made my way over to where the socks were displayed. Now, most people can walk right up to the display, grab the package of socks they need, and move on. No, not Jennifer Van Dahm! I have been known to stand there for thirty minutes, deciding which ones will suit me best. I mean c'mon people, we have low cut, ankle cut, crew cut, and knee-high socks. Not to mention sizing options, 6-8 (might be too small), 9-12 (probably too big), and one size fits all (really?). I always look for that one package that somebody else has opened, so I can pull out a sock and test it. Note to sock shoppers: don't buy pre -opened packages, as several feet have probably tried on your brand new socks!

Now I can tend to be a "people watcher", which makes me very aware of my surroundings. Sometimes, too aware! Especially when men are wandering in the women's apparel section. I was pulling packages off the rack, when I noticed a short, muscular, clean cut man peering around the corner. Hmm, he must be lost, I thought to myself. I continued on my journey for the perfect sock. Have you ever caught something out of the corner of your eye, but didn't want to look? I stood there looking forward, as I saw the same man now slithering through the bra section. I turned to my husband and whispered out of the corner of my mouth, "Do you see that man over there?" I darted my eyes to the right and back at my husband again. My husband did what any good man would do and whipped his head around shouting, "Where?" Now in a loud whisper I replied, "Shh, don't look now. He is over to the right, by the bras." My husband knows the drill, so he counted to five and then nonchalantly glanced over. "Yea, what about him?" my husband asked. "Don't you think it is odd that he is walking in the bra section? He keeps peeking down aisles. I think he is a pervert," I said, without moving my mouth. Now I know I impressed my husband...he must of thought, how could she notice all of this, when she has been staring ahead at sock packages for ten minutes. "He is probably waiting for someone," my optimistic hubby responded. I dropped the package of socks to the ground, and pretend to pick them up, while slowly catching a glimpse of the mysterious man again. "No, somethings not right," I declared back.

After twenty minutes (record time!), I settled on the low cut, size 9-12 socks. Where is a size 8, when you just want a size 8! I marked it off my list and we headed toward the baby area, for diapers. We pushed our cart down the main aisle, stopping periodically to look at things we didn't need. As we passed by the shoe department I quickly pushed the cart down an aisle of shoes. My husband looked over and asked, "Were we getting shoes today?" I gave him "the" look, "Shh. He's right there." Learning from his previous mistake my husband failed to whip his head around this time and asked, "Who?" My face took on an annoyed look as I answered, "The man from the bra section!" By this point I know my husband must of thought I had gone completely mad. But, over the years he had learned to trust my instinct too. I reached out for a pair of shoes and pretend to show interest in them. The man had his back to us, and I watched, as he carefully peeked around the corner of the aisle next to ours.

Now intrigued, I decided to slowly follow him. With my reluctant husband in tow behind me, I begun to see a pattern in what the man did. He was actually following the same person the whole time. Why is he hiding from them? I couldn't help but wonder. As I continued to observe him, I could clearly see that he was on a mission. "I don't think he is waiting for someone, nor is he a pervert in the apparel section," I concluded to my husband. "I think he works here. He is like a spy or something," I said with a confident nod. My husband looked at me, with eyebrows raised, "A spy?" I shot him a look that said, "What?" Finally making our way out of shoes and over to baby, we decided it best to stop following the man, who was following someone else. Seemed kind of creepy! We carried on with our business and eventually made our way out of the store.

Well, who was he, you ask? The following week, we had made our errand run again. Sure enough, the same man was darting around the store. Week after week, we watched as the plain-clothed "rent a cop" followed certain people throughout the store. His job was to catch shop lifters. I would actually find myself very self conscience when around him. If I sneezed and needed to get a tissue out of my purse, I actually found myself shouting, "I'm reaching into my purse to pull out a tissue now! Just a tissue!" Even though I don't pilfer things, I found myself with a complex around him. Whenever he was in the same area we were shopping in, I wondered if he was watching me for some reason. It mattered to me that he knew I was one of the "good guys". I often questioned why that mattered. Why did I care what he thought about me, especially when I was doing no wrong? I think I just didn't want to be judged incorrectly.

Amazing, how we can care so much about how others feel about us. Yet, we could care less how we appear to God. We end up "stealing" from God each and everyday. He watches us from above, as we say, think, and do things that rob him of the honor due. The big difference between God and that security man is that God does not hide from us. He does not peek around corners and quietly follow us from behind. No, he makes his presence ever so clear. He leads us down the main aisle, and waits patiently as we often get distracted and stray down other aisles. Quite often, those aisles end up being a dead end. Maybe it is time to stop worrying about the thoughts and judgement of man, and start focusing on the one whose judgement will matter most. What aisle are you currently roaming in today?

"Pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." Matthew 6:6 (NIV)

The Ultimate 'To-Do' List

Just when you think you have your day planned, think again...

I am a planner. I thrive on things being organized. Everything has its place, and in its place everything should be. If I look at my calendar, I can tell you precisely what is coming up and how each day looks. If something is not written down, its just not going to happen. There is a notebook that sits on my counter at all times. It has one week worth of events, chores, and errands that need to be done. The list has everything from soccer practice, laundry, thaw the chicken for dinner, pay bills, put trash to the curb, make grocery list...the list goes on and on. I have even been known to do something not on the list, then write it on the list, just to cross it off as completed! Crazy, I know. So, what happens when something comes up, that was not on my daily 'to do' list?

Let me take you back to December 1997. It was a day I will never forget. I woke up one morning to the sound of country music playing on my alarm clock. "Is it 6:30 am already, Aerial?" I moaned. Aerial was my black Maine Coon cat, that faithfully slept by my head every night. After hitting snooze once, as I always did, I made my way out of bed and began my morning routine. My husband and I had no children yet, so my routine only consisted of getting myself ready. As I made my way to the kitchen to grab breakfast to go (this is before coffee became my daily breakfast!), I looked over my tidy notebook. Okay, lets see what's on today's agenda, I thought to myself. I scanned my 'to do' list; call insurance agent on lunch break, send birthday card to grandma, get cat food after work, do laundry when I get home. I gathered my things and made my way to the door. "Bye Aerial, Sebastian, Calvin, Hobbes, and Chance!", I yelled as I shut the door behind me. (Yes, I actually owned five cats at one time! That's what happens when your heart melts for stray animals.)

I worked as a teller at the bank up the street from where we lived. It was a good job, paid well, nice co-workers, and interesting clients. Everyday was the same; receive money, payout money and deal with an occasional complaint here and there. Clock in, thirty minutes to shovel your lunch into your mouth, and then clock out to head home. Oh, and if I happened to get a sales referral from one of my clients, I got a gold star on the chart! (That's what they call incentive?) I had a 'to do' list at work as well. Some things went above and beyond what was expected of me, but I liked doing them. Okay, so organizing the coin wrappers is a little excessive, I know. But, I loved putting up the Christmas tree in the lobby each year!

It started out as a typical Friday. All the local construction workers piled in at noon, to cash their paychecks. Even though some only spoke Spanish, I had formed a friendly relationship with some of the regulars. "Como estas, Hector?" I would say. "Muy bien," he would reply. That is has far as the conversation would ever get, due to my lack of Spanish. The rush had come and gone and business slowed down for the afternoon, leaving the bank fairly quiet. There were only a few clients in the bank, as I sat at my station, waiting for the next person to come in. I began to remind myself of some of the things I needed to add to my list, once I got home.

The quietness was interrupted with shouting, as the front glass doors swung open and three men rushed in. I tried to comprehend why all the sudden I felt different. Something didn't seem right. I glanced up at the man quickly approaching my teller station. He had something tightly stretched over his face. Are those pantyhose? I thought to myself. Why is he covering his face with pantyhose? I quickly scanned the lobby and noticed the second man had remained at the door, to keep watch. What I saw next made time stand still. A third man stood a few feet away, wearing a low baseball cap and dark sunglasses. An AK-47 was aimed at us, scanning all the tellers, back and forth, back and forth. I tried to read the expression of the gunman's face. Nothing. He was silent, focused, and showed no emotion. My observations came to a halt, as the 'Pantyhose Bandit" (as I like to call him!) tossed me a bag and started to yell obscenities at me. Why is it that criminals think if they spew curse words at the victim, the victim will move quicker? Note to all criminals: It actually confuses us and throws us off our game. Anyway, I quickly did what I had been instructed to do in circumstances as such. But I couldn't stop glancing at the gunman every few seconds. I wondered if this was going to be the day that I said goodbye to the world. This was definitely not on my 'to do' list this morning!

What seemed like an eternity, had only lasted a couple of minutes. Three men, in and out, and all they left behind was fear. My heart pounded out of my chest, as I darted my eyes around the lobby. I watched as Mr. Coby, a strong, muscular, tough guy, cowered in the corner. One of my senior citizen customers, Mrs. Reynolds, shook with anxiety. Tellers across the line began to cry, as the emotion of what just happened hit them. What did I do, you ask? I sat motionless. I was in complete shock, not sure if I was dreaming or not. I heard my manager yelling, as she ran over to us, "Is everyone alright? The police will be here in a minute." The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Thoughts flooded my mind. The 'what if's' began to crept in. What if Mr. Coby tried to play hero? What if a teller refused to hand over the money? What if the gunman got trigger happy? The scenarios overwhelmed my thoughts to the point that I too, joined in on the cry fest.

This might be a good time to mention that this was my second out of three total robberies, while working in the banking industry! With each one, I am pretty sure that "face death" was not on my daily 'to do' list. You can't plan for the unexpected. When all was said and done, I had to ask myself one question. Does my daily 'to do' list also include my spiritual chores? You know, like reading my Bible to deepen my knowledge of His word, attending the church to strengthen fellowship with other believers. It's funny how one event can make you re-prioritize life's list. Perhaps it takes those unfortunate events to get our attention and remind us that life is short, and we are not in control of our days. Had my robbery taken a turn for the worst, my worldly chores and errands would of still been there, for someone else to pickup. I can't say the same for my spiritual chores. Once I am gone, they are crossed off my list forever. Then God will question me, "Where did I rank on your 'to do' list, Jennifer?" I want to be able to answer, "You had priority over all!"  Have you checked your list recently? 

"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that." James 4:14-15 (NIV)

*All names have been changed to protect identities.

Raining on My Parade

What happens when your day takes an unexpected turn...

Have you ever been to a parade? It is fascinating to sit on the sideline and watch as big, colorful floats pass by. Floats with loud music, funny clowns, people dancing and waving. Everyone displaying a smile, and having a good time. You can hear the sound of the marching band coming from far down the street. A very faint echo fills the distance. With each beat, the booms and clangs get louder and louder. Then they arrive, right in front of you. Your heart pounds to the beat of the bass drum, as it passes by. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy sweeps pass your nose and fills the air, as the vendors yell out, "Get your popcorn, cotton candy." It is a happy time. Spirits are up, and you feel down right giddy. It could make for the perfect day.

Then it happens. The clouds start rolling in, one by one. The sun, which once shined brightly, now slowly begins to take cover. You watch as the day becomes gloomy. The parade still goes on around you, but for some reason, you don't feel the same anymore. The previous joy and excitement you felt is now being taken over by the dreariness that has crept in. Funny, the weather forecast didn't show a storm today, you think to yourself, I would of come prepared. One droplet of rain falls from the dark sky and lands ever so gently on your shoulder. You lift your head toward the sky and another drop lands on your face. "This can't be happening, not on such a special day," you say to the person next to you.

One by one, umbrellas begin to open up around you. How did they know? How did I miss this? you think to yourself. The droplets join together and quickly turn into a down pour. You watch as people run and to take cover in their cars and buildings, sheltering themselves from the unexpected. It is even too much to bear from the one's who had come prepared. You don't know where to run, as you were caught so off guard. There you stand alone, in the pouring rain, defenseless against the storm.

The once beautiful float has now turned into wet, soggy streamers, sprawled across the street. The music has stopped, and nothing fills the air but the sound of rain hitting the pavement. The street that was hosting the laughter, and joy of people is now empty. You find that you are the only one who remains out in the storm...cold, wet, and uncomfortable. "How long will this last?", you call out to God.

Something catches your eye. For a split second you think you caught a glimpse of the sun, trying to peek out from behind the cloud. The rain slowly begins to turn into a a fine mist. You search the sky for signs that the storm might be passing. Then you see it. It is beautiful, like nothing you've ever seen before. A full rainbow stretches across the sky, giving color to what was dark moments ago. You look around you, longing to share it with someone. But everyone has left, everyone wanted to avoid the storm and take shelter. You stand there in awe of the beauty God created.

Yes, you may still be wet, and cold, but you now have a sense of comfort. The storm has passed, and you are still standing there strong. The sun is no longer hostage to the dark clouds. You still question why your perfect day was ruined by such an ugly storm. But, you realize that had you not faced the storm head on, you would of missed God's gift at the end. You feel sorry for those who ran, you some how feel they missed out on something spectacular. You proved that only the strong can endure the storm, and only the strong will be rewarded in the end.

What is your storm today? Are you willing to endure it and rely on God to see you through it? He longs to lead you to the rainbow that awaits you.

"But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint."  Isaiah 40:31 (NKJV)

Price Check on Patience

Hurried mom meets new cashier...

I was recently out running errands and decided to stop and get groceries. I didn't have a whole lot of time, but knew I could manage with the small load I needed to pick up. The day I went must of been senior citizen discount day, as the checkout was filled with white haired shoppers, sorting through their coupons. As I approached the checkout area, I scanned the lanes for the shortest line. I had too much to consider self checkout, and most lines had three people waiting, so I went with the one that was closest to where I stood. To pass the time, I looked over the magazine rack to scan the amusing, yet trashy headlines..."Botox Gone Bad", "Celebrity Couple Splits After One Month Marriage", "Woman Gives Birth To Dinosaur". I sighed, as I turned my attention back toward the two women in front of me. I watched as the customer paid and the next woman began to unload her items onto the belt.

As I stood and waited patiently I heard a deep, yet pleasant voice call out to me from behind. "Mam', I can take you over here." Those are words that every shopper longs to hear. I turned to see who he was talking to and he was staring right at me. He picked me! I got the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket!, I thought. He motioned over to the new lane that had just opened up next to me. With my head held high and my shoulders thrown back, I proudly maneuvered my cart into the allotted spot and began to unload my items. I could hear the quiet moans of other shoppers as they raced to be second in line behind me.

"Good morning," the cashier said, "did you find everything you were looking for today?"
"Yes, yes I did," I glanced to look at his name tag, "Charlie." That's when I saw it. The big bold words that lay beneath his name badge, "TRAINEE". I waited with anticipation, as he picked up my first item. Maybe he has been in training for a few weeks now, I thought. Then I noticed her. The woman standing directly behind Charlie. She had the shiny gold badge, the kind that can cause permanent eye damage, if the light hits it just right. I leaned in to get a closer look and sure enough the words "GLORIA, FRONT END SUPERVISOR" glared back at me. Oh boy, I thought. Then came the "pre-apology", as I like to call it. "This is Charlie's first day, so please bear with us," she chuckled with a slight smile."Oh no problem, take your time," I replied. Take your time? Why did I just say that? 

So, there I stood with all of my groceries loaded on the belt, and cash pulled out ready to pay. He scans my first item, bananas. They don't scan, as a banana peel alone can't give you a price. "You need to weigh them and put the banana code in," Gloria instructed Charlie, while throwing me another smile. He placed them on the scale, pulled out his cheat chart, and punched in some numbers. "Beep," the computer responded. "Beep...beep...beep," the computer continued to reject Charlie's input. After a couple minutes of instruction from Gloria, the bananas were safely on their way to the bagger. Next up, rolls from the bakery...with no price sticker! To make a very long story short, lets just say I watched as other customers entered the store, shopped, and checked out, while I still waited. My ice cream had officially melted, and my milk had gone sour by the time I paid. I had even forgotten where I had parked, and had to push my cart throughout the parking lot, in search of the car.

As I got in the car and drove away I couldn't help but ask God, "Why me, why today?" I really thought I had hit the jackpot. I felt so honored to be "chosen" to advance in line. But in reality, I was chosen by God to test my patience that day. Maybe, just maybe Charlie needed someone like me, to make his day go that much easier. Perhaps he needed the encouraging smiles I periodically shot over the register. Quite possibly, God used me in a very small way. Can I challenge you today to turn your "Why me?" into "Why not?"
　

"Patience! You've got all the time in the world - whether a thousand years or a day, it's all the same to you." Psalms 90:4 (The Message)

Naked in TJ Max

See what happens when a simple task goes awry...

Embarrassing moments...they can last for just a few minutes, or affect us for a life time. Maybe it's something that happened in college, that old buddies still bring up today. Perhaps it is a situation that happened just yesterday. Either way, true embarrassment can take time to forget...for everyone involved.

For my son, it happened in TJ Max. It started with my impulse to redecorate the living room. I was on a one day mission to find inexpensive picture frames. We had already visited a few stores, and the kids had boldly declared that, "this would be the last stop of the day". Knowing that they were at the end of their rope, I decided to make the most of my time in this last store. I walked each and every aisle, desperately searching for the perfect frame. With each aisle I entered, the moans of children trailed behind. "I'm hungry. My feet hurt. It's too hot in here." Out of the several complaints I could only do something about that last one, "It's too hot in here." I turned to my youngest son and noticed he still had his sweatshirt on from the brisk morning. It was now 80 degrees out! So I suggested he take his sweatshirt off, thus leaving just his tshirt on.

We walked out of the side aisle and approached the main section of the store. "Are we done now?" my hopeful older son asked. "Yes, I believe so....hold on...mommy sees something else she likes!" I replied. I made a bee-line over to the candles located on the end cap. Ooohhh, a detour, but worth a little look. After a couple of minutes of pure fragrance overload, I decided it was probably time to wrap things up. As I turned to gather up the kids and deliver the joyous news, "that we were officially done", I noticed my youngest son was not directly behind me. I did a 360 turn to locate his where abouts.

There he was. It took me a moment, but I was sure that the child I was staring at was actually mine. There in the middle of the side aisle my son stood, completely shirtless. His sweatshirt and tshirt lay on the ground next to him, as he stood with his little arms wrapped around his pale, bare chest. I laughed (as any good mom would do!) and wondered why my son was hiding out, half naked, in aisle 5. It looked like a fraternity prank gone bad. The more I thought about it, the harder I began to laugh. There I stood, hollering down the aisle, "Son, why are you naked? Put your clothes back on." People walked by and couldn't resist looking.

That's when I saw it...the look of true embarrassment in my son's eyes. He had tried to take the sweatshirt off, but the tshirt stuck inside it. Instead of calling for help, he resorted to hiding out...all for the sake of avoiding embarrassment. What seemed like a humorous event to me, was completely humiliating to him. Luckily, he got over it, and can somewhat laugh about it now. But, it was a great reminder to me that there are people around me who are embarrassed and hiding out in life. Embarrassed that they don't have the perfect marriage, ideal house, a high status job...the list goes on. They don't want to be exposed, for fear that others will "laugh". As healthy as it is to laugh, to what or who's expense do we do it?

"A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance."

Ecclesiastes 3:4 (NLT)

The Joy Charade

Do you wear the mask of joy? Take the test...

joy (noun) - intense happiness or pleasure
charade (noun) - a thinly disguised deception; a sham

Have you ever come across that one person who doesn't seem real? You know... too happy, too fake, never has a bad day. Kind of annoying, huh? Although it can be completely off putting, there is something totally fascinating about them. As I talk to them, I find myself closely examining their face, for the slightest break in smile. My cheeks hurt just watching them!

I often find myself questioning the validity of their joy. I often wonder, "why would I want to share my struggles or concerns with a person who pretends to have none?". Should life always be about butterflies and fluffy bunnies? To interact with such a person actually adds a level of discomfort for me. Each encounter only confirms that I don't have my stuff together, as much as I would like. What happens when these overly joyful people face a serious situation? Do they really smile their way through it or do they have a complete meltdown, behind closed doors? I think that answer lays in whether it is real or fake joy.

It seems to me that a lot of people now days wear the mask of joy. They are so afraid of letting others see their faults, fears, and failures, that they rather be fake. The problem is, we can see right through that. I am guilty of this too. So many times people ask me, "How are you?", and I responded, "Great, and you?". I could have had the worst day of my life and oddly enough I would still answer, "Great!", with a smile. Why do I do that? I think I am afraid of my status being judged by others. If I don't have my stuff together, then I am not super mom, super wife, and super friend. In a world that thrives on being the best, it takes a lot of work to hold those titles!

I have come across so much fake joy, that it is hard to tell the real deal anymore. I long to have the real joy that overflows from deep down. The kind that can only come from having Christ within. Remember the old children's church song, "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart...Where?...Down in my heart....Where?...Down in my heart"? I have met plenty of individuals who seep God's love and authentic joy. The difference? It comes from their heart. They can have joy, even in their burdens, because they know God will see them through it. They want to share their burdens, so others can see God work through them. They are not acting joyful for personal gain or status. They truly have something to be joyful about and it shows! I recently posted a quote on my Facebook...

"As I strive to close the gap between who I am and who Gods longs for me to be,

the only obstacle standing in my way, is myself."

I have come to the conclusion that, in order for me to possess TRUE joy, I need to get out of the way and let God work in me! Will you commit to do the same?

Help...I'm a Hostage to Habits!

See what happens when habits spiral out of control...

 

Have you ever stopped to think why you do the things you do? I'm talking daily habits and rituals. You know, the same things you have done every day, for the past five, ten, even twenty years.

For me, it's coffee downstairs first thing in the morning. Served bedside would be even better! As it is brewing, I make a bee-line for the computer, to check my emails. Who knows, one day something very important could be waiting for me. Something so urgent that it will require an immediate response before I have even opened my eyes completely. Then it's over to check Facebook, because my life can't function if I don't see that Susie's toilet overflowed last night or pictures of Bobby's extended family at Disneyland. Of course, I now need to add my two cents to the pot and let everyone know that I plan to do yard work for the day and then make chicken for dinner.

Now, I have had mornings where my routine (aka: habits) couldn't go quite as planned. Mornings where I had to jump out of bed, throw on a hat, and leave for an event. I don't know what it is about those mornings, but I tend to feel disconnected. My hand wanders aimlessly, searching to click the computer mouse. Not to mention, my mouth salivates for the coffee it didn't get. I get downright cranky on those mornings!

Has our rituals and habits really taken over our lives? What ever happen to living on the edge? When my grandmother lived with us for a short period of time, I recalled watching her various habits. It somewhat bothered me that she was so stuck in her routine, that to enjoy life outside of the routine was stressful for her. I boldly declared that 'I would never be like that when I am older'. Yet, look at me...I have already begun the process, haven't I?

So, the big question is, "How do we have consistency in our lives, but avoid the actual need for it?" I'll leave you to ponder that. In the mean time, I'm going to head to bed. But first I need to check emails and Facebook one more time, eat a snack, wash my face, and apply my chap stick...  :)

"We're being shown how to turn our backs on a godless, indulgent life, and how to take on a God-filled, God-honoring life. This new life is starting right now."

Titus 2:12 (The Message)

Shopping for Life in Aisle 4

Where do you rank, when shopping for Christianity...

I hate to shop, especially for clothes. It is a process that consumes more energy than I am willing to give. I have a ritual when it comes to shopping. I have to examine my item for at least thirty minutes, before even committing to try it on. If I feel we are a good match, then off to the dressing room we go. After endless twirling and bending in front of the mirror, it needs to scream "buy me", or to the discard pile it goes. I might even put it back on the rack, just to come back to it later and start all over again. If I am feeling rushed, frazzled, or impatient, I can tend to buy it and hang onto the receipt, for a possible return later. Thus allowing me to perform the ritual at home. If I like it, but not sure I want it, I would even be willing to place it on layaway, to allow me extra time to think about it. But watch out, because when I come across something I absolutely love, everyone will hear about it. I might even buy extra to pass along to others. Ironically, I have found that these principles can apply to our Christian life as well.

"Finders keepers", as I will call them, tend to think things through. They are people who know what they want and go after it. They are those who wanted a new pair of shoes, so they shopped around first, and found the best deal. They looked at the ratings, and read the reviews, making them confident in the pair they are purchasing. They marched into the store, tried them on for size and left with box in hand. A matter of fact, they even tell the cashier to keep the receipt, because they know there is no chance of returning them. After testing and trying other shoes, they know a knock-off can never stand up to the real thing. They are also the go getter of Christianity, standing firm on what they know is tried and true. These are the Billy Grahams of the world. So thrilled with the product they found, they want to share it with everyone. When something great is discovered, and it is meant to better your life, why would you keep it to yourself?

My "return junkies" are next. They find it very easy to return things, not only in life, but also Christianity. Bought a new purse just because everyone else had it, but you can't afford it now? Head back to the store with your receipt in hand, no questions asked. Not happy with your marriage, return it to the courts. Didn't mean to get pregnant? Not a problem, return it to its heavenly maker. They live by the seat of their pants, making rash decisions and dealing with the consequences later. With today's easy "return policies", it has become very convenient to dismiss consequences altogether. We wonder why people don't cherish things, marriage, or life in general. We have made it too simple not to. All responsibility has been removed from the rightful owners. These people tend to pick and choose what they want to keep and return, in Christianity as well. They say they want to live as Christ did, yet they want to pick certain areas to live by. They are the ones who invite Christian friends over for dinner, yet would never consider inviting the homeless man they drive by everyday. The same people who will put a fish sticker on the back of their car, but won't mention the name of Jesus in the workplace. They have bought into Christianity, yet have returned the parts that make them feel uncomfortable. The parts that define who we are as followers of Christ.

Then you have the "layaway for later" crowd. They know a good thing when they see it, yet they feel they can't afford it right now. Perhaps they are not willing to make the decision to invest quite yet.They don't want to lose it completely, so they store it on the back shelf, allowing them to think about it, hold on to it, and keep it within reach. It is too much of a commitment to pay the price up front, so they put a little in at a time. They can't invest now because they are still hanging onto to their old self. The thought of having to replace the existing, seems almost to much to bear. The work and effort it would take is more than they are willing to commit to. Why do we as Christians try to pack it all in? If we would learn to let go of our old ways, thoughts, and habits, we could make room for the things that really matter. Instead, we place the most important things on the back shelf, only willing to pull it down when the old has completely failed us or when we want to impress others. Must things break completely before we fix it or replace it? Is it so wrong to replace something before that happens? Most would probably invest now, if they only realized how much the item outweighs the price.

Which are you? Perhaps you are all three. You know what you want, you have even tried it once, but you're afraid to fully commit. You keep returning in life and coming up empty. You know you have this great thing awaiting you, but not sure you should fully invest in it. You are so content with the knock-off versions, that you won't even consider the real thing. Sure, it looks, performs, and acts like the real thing, but you know deep down that it is only a mock. What holds you back; selfishness, laziness, insecurities? God did not send his Son to pay the debt of sin, just for us to return it or lay it aside. He paid it so that we could have the ultimate purchase... abundant life. Now isn't that worth sharing with others? There's only one problem...you can't share something you don't currently possess.

Pick Up Your Crayons, Billy!

What happens when a simple request is paired with lazy parenting...

(Some names have been changed to protect the oblivious!)

Have you ever been in a situation where you have witnessed the shocking behavior of someone else's child? Perhaps you wanted to speak up and say something to the parent, but wasn't sure if that was crossing the line. I had the misfortune of experiencing this first hand last week.

It was a crisp fall evening, and the sun was starting to set. I was bringing my son to soccer practice and was really looking forward to some quiet alone time. It was going to be me, a good book, and a hot cup of coffee on the sideline. All nestled in my blue sports chair, I watched as my son and the other kids ran their endless energy out. "Ahh, mommy time has officially arrived", I said to myself. I opened my latest Erynn Mangum book, and searched for the place I had left off. With birds chipping in the background, and the laughter of kids out on the field, I had entered my peaceful zone.

Then it happened. A simple request from a fellow mom to her son. "Billy, please pick up your crayons." It was six words that would change the remainder of my quiet time. I nonchalantly glanced over to the right of me, and noticed the mom was pointing to some crayons that lay sprawled out on the grass behind her. "No!", the single word boomed from the little five year old body. My eyebrows reached for the top of my head. Once again, the mom said very calmly, "Billy, you need to pick up your crayons." I thought, Okay, come on kiddo, up and at 'em. I gotta book to read. "Nooo!" The words escaped his mouth like a run away train. So, back and forth this little fiasco continued, for what seemed to be forever. Then on the final round I hear Billy shout, "No! You dumb mom!"

Alright that's it!, I thought to myself. Surely he is going to get it now. I sat with anticipation, waiting for her to jump up and give him what he deserved. As my head remained glued to my book, my wide eyes darted back and forth, following the little terror. I watched as the mom slowly rose from her chair. Here it comes...wait for it, wait for it."Billy, do we need to go to the car? I'll take you back to the car," she said, as SHE bent over to pick the crayons up off the grass. Much to my disappointment, I wanted to shout, "Really? That's all you got lady?"

Then came the icing on the cake. Little Billy walked over to his ever so patient mom and hit her on the head. With my book now closed on my lap, and my mouth wide open, I thought I was going to witness the end of little Billy. It took everything in me to refrain from waving a "goodbye" motion to him, as he glanced at me. I watched, as he walked away from his mom with nothing but a victorious smirk on his face. He won and he knew it. Billy 2, mom 0.

And what did the mom do you ask? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Her only defense was, "he learns that from his brother." Translation: "I have not just one, but two monsters living at home. Lucky me!" Did I say anything to her? Nope. Not a word. I thought about it though. I actually came really close a few times. I did however exchange a 'oh no she didn't!' look with another fellow mom. I battled with the silent boundary that has been put in place. The philosophy that you can't parent a child wrong, just different than others.. "to each their own." But now looking back, I wish I would of spoke up. Maybe, just maybe, she needed to be called out on the matter. She almost needed to know that her unwillingness to take control of precious Billy, made for a very awkward moment for the rest of us sitting there.

I heard a quote once; "The thoughts, beliefs, and characters we feed our kids today, become the foundation of their behaviors tomorrow." The only foundation Billy is building on is one with disrespect. His life has no boundary or consequence. She has given him the authority to act as he may. In reality, she is creating another social delinquent. His disrespect for her will eventually be passed on to others he comes in contact with. Why can't parents see that their "unique way of parenting" (aka: laziness), is having a direct effect on our society and our future? I'm not saying everyone has to apply corporal punishment as an effective means to discipline. What I am saying is let your no be no. And for the sake of the rest of us, please take the time to look up the definitions of consistent and consequence!

"A refusal to correct is a refusal to love; love your children by disciplining them." Proverbs 13:24 (The Message)

*Just a side note: I know parents have rough days, and I am also aware that I don't know what circumstances happened right before they came to practice. However, I can say that this particular situation happened every week, over the course of 8 weeks of practice! No benefit of the doubt here!