Life. And One "Who Must Be Admired."

This past week has been a whirlwind of emotion, grief, tears, praise, and thanksgiving. February 5, 2011, a tragic accident happened, which took the life of a beautiful woman and soon-to-be mother. She was taken so early from this earth, never knowing the reality of motherhood. She had waited 15 years to even become pregnant and then, just two weeks before experiencing the birth of her child, she was taken from this life. I did not personally know Sara, but I know her brother-in-law and her in-laws. It was close enough to home for me to weep each day for this family.

Nearly an hour after the accident, her baby was delivered via C-section, with no pulse, no brain activity. Miracle one: They got her heart beating again. Miracle two: Her daddy was able to see and know his daughter. For three days, the family was able to meet their newest addition to their family, Miranda Evangelene. 

Such a beautiful girl.

The doctors were unable to detect brain activity after three days, and therefore, Daddy made the decision to take her off of life support. And while this is sad, it was the right thing to do. Miracle three: The family was able to hold her, love her, and greet her before she made the journey Home. 


Now I would like to talk about Miracle four. One thing this world needs is a unified body of Christ. Through this horrible accident, Miranda, or "She Who Must Be Admired," was the focus of more than 38,000 people on Facebook, joining in prayer for her and this family. I can't even imagine how many other thousands of people throughout churches and families were also united for this family.


I will forever remember Miranda and surely will admire her life of three days on this earth. She, without lifting a finger, inspired tens of thousands of people to pray. She, without uttering a single word, united many around the globe. And most of all, she allowed her daddy to love her in the here and now, and give him hope for the future; when he will see his daughter and wife again in Heaven.


Continue to pray for the Cole family. And continue to look for the beauty in all things. For even in the grimmest of situations, God is at work. He's already laid the path before you, and knows each step. Miracles don't always look the way we think they should... And why should they? We are not the ones who create them, God is.


As Isaiah 55:8-9 reads:
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
   neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
   so are my ways higher than your ways
   and my thoughts than your thoughts."


Thank You, God, for having higher ways, and for giving us the faith to believe in these, Your ways.

Bountiful, Beautiful Blessings...

*This is the first of my "list" of things I love about snow.*

A while back, a friend of mine had reminded me that God sent manna from the heavens to feed the Israelites while they sojourned in the desert. It was good to remember that. I thought about how God had supplied their every need, and that He has promised to do just that for each of His children even today. 

Paul wrote to the Philippians (in 4:19), “And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” This is true. Yet we tend to be a generation of doubters. In these “get it now,” and “buy now, pay later” times, it’s no wonder that we are an impatient people. 

When we simply rest in God’s goodness and faithfulness, we allow our true provider to shine. Even Jesus taught us to pray, by asking God to “give us this day our daily bread.” (Matt 6:11) This of course is reminiscent to the days of manna consumption, but speaks of so much more. Manna really symbolizes our every need, whether edible, monetary, emotional, etc. God is Jehovah Jireh, which means “God provides.” Who are we to limit what He provides, the timing, or even quantity?

Rewind a few days to this year’s Groundhog's Day, and to the 5th worst storm recorded in Wisconsin’s history. At my house, there are snowdrifts that reach to the top of our 6-foot fence. Our garage door was nearly hidden by the bounty of white splendor, and our driveway became nonexistent, as a five-foot-high by six-foot-wide drift swallowed it whole like a ravenous whale. It took two neighbors with their snowblowers about 45 minutes to carve out a path large enough for a car to fit through. 

So, what does this have to do with God providing? Well, some may take the path of God providing friendly neighbors to help us in our time of need. Sure, that is more than right, and we truly appreciated every minute of exertion they spent on us. But there is something else here that stirs my faith and excitement.

As I was driving through our city, now fortified with bulwarks of a northern winter’s bounty, God spoke to me very clearly. He reminded me of the manna that was always enough, never sparse. He also reminded me that He promises to bless us richly. 

So what is our part in this? First we need to trust God with our all. That is key. Our faith in Him should always be our number one priority, for it is through faith that we expand into all other aspects of Christian life. Second, we need to trust God enough to give Him what He asks for. Know this: God doesn’t need anything of ours. But he loves our contributions just as a parent loves the offerings sincerely brought to them by their three-year-old. It’s not a patronizing event, either; it’s one that tells of adoration and care. 

So we, as little children, offer everything in our lives to God. In return, He pours out His blessings upon us in a dance of life, love, and passion. If you’re in a climate that can support this... Next time you look out at the high walls of snow, guarding your every step along the carved-out paths, think of God and His abundance. He doesn’t look to blanket our meager surroundings with His blessings. No, I believe He longs to completely cover and engulf our lives so that the only thing people see when they look in our direction is His bounty.

“Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the LORD of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need. I will rebuke the devourer for you, so that it will not destroy the fruits of your soil, and your vine in the field shall not fail to bear, says the LORD of hosts. Then all nations will call you blessed, for you will be a land of delight, says the LORD of hosts.” 

--Malachi 3:10-12

I Did It!

"What's that," you say? Well, I will tell you. I have finally decided that I am going to LIKE snow and winter again. Crazy? Out of my mind? Well, let me tell you why...

I was born and raised right around the 45th parallel, in the great state of Michigan. (That is almost exactly 1/2 half-way between the North Pole and the Equator.) That's right. And here's a question for all of you readers: What lies just WEST of the great state of Michigan? Any takers? Well, I will tell you: Lake Michigan. Which means that in the wintertime, we would get completely pummeled with snow. 

The 45th Parallel. C-O-L-D. A. Lot.

I always tell people a little-known fact about my childhood, when explaining my relationship with snow. It goes a little something like this: "I grew up trick-or-treating some years in my snow suit. I also grew up some years hunting for Easter Eggs in the snow. You don't have to color Easter Eggs half the time when you live where I grew up... It would make the eggs EASIER to find."

People would laugh, but I was 100% honest. I can remember only ONE Christmas where there was no snow, truthfully. It was 1982. The only way I remember is because my mom has a picture of me, outside, in our driveway, in my spring jacket, jeans, and cowboy boots (that's right!), and riding my Big Wheel. I was holding one of my Christmas presents: "Dr. Phineas Frog." (NO! It is not some ridiculous Phineas and Ferb thing. My poor Phineas was ROBBED.)

Dr. Phineas today. Yes, I still have him!

Anyway, as I grew up, not being people that had money to ski or anything like that, we did the free stuff. We would go to our aunt's house and sled down their "big" hill in the back yard, or if we were feeling brave, take the toboggan out for an "all pile on and see who lives" experiment. But typically, plastic sleds were the means we had, and most every year, they would come up with little "innovative" ways to make the sleds go faster, turn easier, etc. But they never really delivered.

Fast-forward about 8 years: me, working at our family's hardware store/gas station. This was the old-fashioned kind. Not only did we sell leaded, and unleaded gas, but we also sold kerosene, diesel, and fuel oil. I bet a lot of younger people don't even know what fuel oil is anymore. Our tanks for these fuels were above-ground tanks, and we had to keep a lock on them so people wouldn't fill up their containers and drive away. Which meant we, the workers, had to go out, unlock, fill the containers, and then lock back up. 

I remember going out in -20º F. With wind chills at around -35º F.  And did you know that once the weather goes below (I believe it is) -10º F, you can't feel any difference if it gets any colder? That's right. (If that's not the right temp., please know that it is close to that. My brain cells have been frozen too many times, possibly.)

So this is pretty much why I made the decision, as a more refined and respectable "adult," that I was done with Winter. I liked snow for Christmas, and that was about it. Well folks, times, they are a-changing.

I have decided that I will love each season equally. (Well, at least Winter, Spring, and Summer will get equal billing... Fall is just WAY too high up there on my "Things to Adore" list.) There is always something to love about each and every situation. 

As Rafiki tells Simba in The Lion King, sometimes we just have to "look haaaarder," before we can see the good in something, be it a season, situation, or certain someone. So my challenge, if you are up for it, is to look at each "thing" in your life. If you can't find something to love about the subject at hand, then "look haaarder."

"Loook . . . Haaahdah."

Next post: My list of what I love about Winter.

Peace, love, and cider mugs!

Life to the Fullest

I recently listened to a podcast where the speaker was talking about "being fully alive," and I got to pondering...


What is the difference between being fully alive and simply being alive? The speaker told a story of someone who was dying of a disease, who lived each day like it would be his last. And this is how he learned the difference, and was living each moment as it would be his last... not missing out on any opportunities... never skipping out on a chance to share his faith... always going for it... being fully alive.


It was interesting to me to think that someone had to be so close to death's door to learn what it means to be fully alive. And to think that each one of us truly is at death's door at any given moment in time. The difference is that we don't really see it: The groggy, weary-eyed man driving next to you on the freeway who's eyelids droop and linger just two seconds too long, begins the diagonal route towards your car, and WHOOSH, something jolts him back to reality... one second more and... ....The woman in your apartment building, running late who forgets to turn off the curling iron... she forgets something, runs back in and--"Oh! I forgot to turn it off..." A few hours and the heat could've ignited the wafer-thin tissue paper she had carelessly thrown onto her dresser... if she hadn't run back in...


The difference is that some people have a knowledge of an approximate guess of how long, or short, their lives may or may not be. Why should this make a difference?? 


Didn't Jesus teach us this very lesson? He said in Matthew 16:25, "For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." When we consider ourselves dead to this world--afterall we are a new creation (2 Cor 5:17)--we can more fully accept that this life we live is not ours anymore; we belong to Jesus. Our old self has passed away, the new has come. So in a way, we already have died. 


We aren't here on this earth for ourselves. Our days don't belong to us anymore than someone can claim ownership of the sun. 


I want to pose a question: If you look back at the day you just lived, could you honestly say--in the event that you didn't have a tomorrow--that you are pleased? Have we taken the opportunity to be... fully... alive? When Jesus said "whoever loses his life for my sake will find it," I believe he was talking about much more than just finding eternal life. I believe Jesus was telling us that we would find IT. Life to the fullest. The ability to be... fully... alive.


I am provoked. And while I understand that our seemingly mundane daily routines can't be chucked away like week-old leftovers, I also know that in all things, we are to do them to the glory of God. So whether I am paying a bill, preaching the gospel to the girl down the street, or serving someone in need, I want my life to be full of thankfulness and praise. I want God to know and see that I truly appreciate each breath, each sunrise, each laugh, each tear. And even more so, I want Him to use me each and every day. I want abundant life; to know that each step I take is set by the Lord himself. To have the faith for life that extreme, to be a life so full that people around me take notice... as Steven Curtis Chapman put it "la-la-la-la-live out loud!"

on being useful

Have you ever looked upon fountains in the summertime? Their waters shimmering in the sunlight, dazzling onlookers of every age and culture... The continuous white noise they create, with the constant splish-splash of each droplet that finds its way back to the pool... The surrounding area wet with stray drops and splooshes... And if you stand close enough, you notice something else--a few things, really. First, you notice how you get to experience this wonder not only with your visual and auditory sensors, but with your touch receptors as well. Second, you notice that it's main gathering place, a.k.a. the pool, is never still--never placid.

And while I'm a sucker for serenity and calm just as much as any other person with a busy life, the fountain's pool is just as it should be: never waxing in the stillness, never waning in the quiet. It is as it should be--a bustling place where one unit of H₂O is replaced at break-neck speed by another, all just in time to make room for another and another, and so on. Little waves are created constantly, even though we can never set our eyes upon the smooth ripple effect; there are simply too many waves and splashes coming in from all directions to allow for such nonsense. This is a place of excitement--a place of much to do, much to do.


Another thing you can see at a fountain is the wonder of discovery. Have you ever simply gazed upon a child, smiling and laughing as she experiences a fountain and all of its magical splendor? The squeal that explodes from this little soul as she learns the icy chill that is carried with its liquid counterpart... the stomping and romping that takes place in the puddles around the perimeter of this hilarious contrivance... the discovery of how something as simple as water can turn your fun-loving parent, uncle or auntie into an outraged psychopath while you're laughing all the way... watching a dog bite at and lap up the spewing formations of water as they shoot high into the sky... and seeing the silly confusion fade into their faces as they peer down into the ripply, ever changing glass to see the horrendous likeness staring back at them.

There is much ado at a fountain. And here is where we begin today's pondering. How many times have we truly noticed the actual device by which the water is propelled? When we look at a "fountain," we really are looking at the effect of a fountain. And in all truthfulness, the fountain's working parts aren't all that spectacular. I may even venture an opinion here: they are not attractive at all. But add water and flip a switch and no one notices the device anymore. No one sees the drabness. Everyone is transfixed on what its sole purpose for existing is in the first place: the water. The serious display of water, dancing about in a continual rhythm and motion, and the joy and beauty it brings to the people who are influenced by it.


This is a picture of life as a believer. We are simply a tool--a device--to let the water flow. And if we allow ourselves to not get in the way, it can be a miraculous spectacle, with all the emphasis falling on Whom it truly belongs: Jesus Christ. As the Holy Spirit is allowed to flow out from us, people around our world of influence can't help but be drawn to Him--to reach out and touch, to discover how He feels, how He tastes, and just how truly amazing it feels when a torch is passed or shared, and they too become a fountain, flowing boldly and beautifully for their Savior--the One who made them to flow.


Let it never be that I sit in disrepair, as people stroll past, gazing upon an unworking fountain. The disappointment it brings! It's funny, really. If you happen upon an unworking fountain, you are disappointed. You may have never seen it working, may not have a clue as to what you should be looking at, but still you feel disappointment. For all you know, it was a fountain that squirts people in the eye as they come in for a closer look... But even so, there is a languid retreat that happens whenever someone happens upon a fountain in disrepair.

So open up, let Him flip the switch, and get over yourself. It's not about you afterall... and it's certainly not about me. It is all about Him. Jesus. The reason I love and breathe. And the only "thing" I want flowing from me. Ever.

Oops... (I did it again!)

Bahahahaha!!! Sorry folks. I just had to start that way! I went almost another entire month without blogging. Why? Life. To quote one of my favorite movies, "Two words: Therapy." It feels like if it hasn't been one thing, it has definitely been another. But thankfully life has been more full of blessings rather than curses. 

Anyhow, I am reflecting on loads of different things tonight. As I sit and type this, my children are anxiously awaiting our own little family Christmas tonight. We will open gifts and celebrate the wonder of our Savior's birth as a family. And I can't wait. I'm sure the kids are most excited about the presents, but if I think about it, that's what I am most thankful for... the greatest gift of all! Jesus!

Christmas to me means a lot more than just celebrating Jesus' birth. I'm going to tell a story here that I haven't told or even thought of in years...

The fall that I was 15, and about to turn 16 the following February, I had quite the wake-up call. My [insert name and relationship here], we will call her Penelope, introduced me to the world of shoplifting. We started small, swiping candy and cigarettes, and gradually moved up to bigger things like CDs (when they came packaged in those long rectangular white plastic anti-theft cases) and clothing. 

It was November, and Penelope’s brother’s birthday was rapidly approaching. Now, we had the money, but it was always such a rush to “lift” things from stores. I still can’t believe I lived like this... Anyway, we used our own little patterns and lingo in each store, talking about buying the things we would actually purchase, and “getting” the things we would steal. So on we went, through this store, lifting things, including her brother’s gifts: fishing lures. Seriously. Fishing lures. We were about to leave the store, having purchased the legitimate things we decided were too big to smuggle and, checking that our newfound booty was securely in place under our jackets and in our pockets, stepped lightly out the door. “Excuse me girls! You don’t happen to have any un-purchased merchandise, do you?” came the hail. We immediately stopped, cheeks flush with the hues of guilt, and turned to face something we had never known to exist: the plainclothes security officer. Our breath became shallow, as our throats swelled to an almost unbearable tiny passage. 

The plainclothes officer hauled us into the manager’s office and--yes, folks--called the police. We were arrested and taken to the big house. Well, okay, maybe not THE big house, but it was big enough, for sure, to scare every unholy place right out of me. Our parents were called, of course. And I distinctly remember my dad’s reaction. He was so incredibly angry at my actions. After all, this type of thing goes into the newspaper! And, being from a more prolific business-owning family in our area, well, he was pissed, to say the least. “What will people say when they read that a Hentschel was arrested for shoplifting?” etc. etc. etc. He was so angry that he didn’t want to pick me up. And after this, of course, would come the court date. Another slap in the face of our family’s reputation. 

Because Penelope was 17, she was tried as an adult and had to pay back the store and spend a weekend in jail. I remember when she got out how she complained because they didn’t get HBO. As for me, I was tried as a minor and not only had to pay the store back, but also received 20 hours of community service AND probation. I remember thinking how absolutely ticked off I was that the one who got me into this mess received a weekend away from said brother, AND got to watch cable TV; which was something that hadn’t yet made its way into the households of either of us two delinquents.

Christmas that year, I was told, would be nothing more than maybe a token gift, and certainly nothing of value, because they used up so much money paying back the store, and in court fees. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had become one of the Detroit Red Wings’ dearest fans, watching every hockey game I could, rooting from my northern Michigan hometown with as much fervor as someone sitting right in Joe Louis Arena in Detroit. 

In my family, we take turns opening gifts, one by one, until everyone has had a turn, then go around again. I don’t remember how many gifts I actually had that year, but I do remember it was my turn, and I opened up this gift, in a typical shirt box from any Joe Schmo department store, and there, in my hands, was this lovely and perfect Red Wings jersey. I remember looking up to the sounds of my mother sobbing which I then, of course, found myself adding a harmony to her melody. It was one of total repentance mixed with total forgiveness. It was grace. 

Today, as I sit here and type this story from the recesses of my mind, I am reminded that we all--in some form or another--are like me. Not only have we fallen into sin and selfish living, but we have also tarnished the Family name. And no matter what place we are in life, whether we’ve never known our Father, or maybe we have actually walked with Him and have since turned a blind eye or a deaf ear in His direction... We all have that precious package neatly wrapped with a bow sitting under our heart’s tree. It’s something we don’t deserve, but in the same space, something that our Father is so lovingly desiring to lavish upon us: His GRACE. It goes a long, long way, my friends. It’s always the right size; able to cover a multitude of sins. It’s always the right color; complementing the natural beauty He has given to us. It’s always the right accessory for any event, any season, anything at all. God’s grace came down to this earth in a tiny baby named Jesus. He lived a guiltless life, blessing those who everyone else had cursed, calling the wise men of the world fools (and proving it), and reaching his hand out to the unlovely. And after all that, he went to a place no one else would ever go for me: a torturous death of beating, whipping, bruising, and finally, crucifixion... all to give me the chance to be welcomed into the Family which I rightly belonged before I stained myself with sin. 

Yes, this Christmas I will remember that Red Wings jersey as the symbol it really is: grace undeserved. And I do believe I have consequently picked out my Christmas day attire.

Thanks

Well, it has been more than a month since I've poured my heart out on this electronic page. Life has been more than busy, and I'm happy to report that #1, I survived, and #2, the busyness of business is a bit more manageable these days. Hallelujah!


Today is Thanksgiving, and I get to celebrate with family that lives about 7 1/2 hours from here. It's truly something to be thankful for. I am also thankful for the great food and smells that accompany this day of feasting. Prepping things is always a delight to my psyche. The crunch of the celery as my Santoku knife passes through, the aroma of a fresh head of garlic being chopped in two, the little tastes here and there to make sure everything's up to snuff... it all adds up to a wonderful experience for me. 


The kitchen is a comfort room for me. Maybe that's because I am comfortable experimenting with foods. Maybe it is because I am a bit of a control freak and know how I want my food to be prepared... But I think maybe, just maybe, it has to do with the fact that I LOVE giving to my family. I cook from scratch and use as much personally-grown garden veggies that I can, giving wholesome and delectable meals to my family. It's a joy to work in my kitchen.

A dear friend of mine wrote to me today about the wonders of Thanksgiving. It inspired me. She said that even the piles of dirtied dishes were a beautiful sight to her. I began to ponder that. Truly, if your house is filled with enough people to constitute piles of dirty dishes, then you are more than blessed with a large, loving family. Family doesn't always have to be blood- or law-relation, either. Two dear friends will be accompanying the Lam-Fam tomorrow when we celebrate our Thanksgiving. They are just as much family as my children are. God has joined us together in the body of Christ, and I am thrilled to no end that I can call so many people brother and sister. 


Truly, I am thankful for this day of remembering. And even more thankful that I won't have to go out tomorrow and fight traffic or crowds in the psychotic sales and early rising rituals of what has come to be known as Black Friday. 


Much much love from me to you. Each day, remember Who we are celebrating from now until Christmas day. (And beyond!!) For now that Thanksgiving is "over," there will be little on the minds of marketers and ad wizards from here on out. Be bold, be brave. Fight the urge to load up on the non-essentials! Keep it simple and happy.

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. 
Leave the rest to God...