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...

Cropped

While walking past a car the other day, I thought I saw a serene country scene, sort of resting on the dashboard. As I approached, eagerly straining to see the landscape that had been so wonderfully captured in this photograph, I realized it wasn’t a picture at all, but the rear-view mirror on the other side of the car. I was simply seeing a snippet of what was behind me. 

What was the difference? Cropping. The mirror had so cunningly cut out all of the houses, power lines, and any other bits of city life that were so obviously surrounding me. It’s quite astounding to think about what a little cropping can do for perspective.

I recently was not diagnosed with any particular condition, concerning some strange muscle problems, and all I could do was feel frustration, anger, and the unknown, looming over my weary body. My aching and burning muscles seemed to scream in desperation for something, anything... to put a name to their pains; all to no avail. No answers... yet. 

That day had been filled with multitudes of tears and complete anguish. All I wanted was to have a solution to my problem, and what the doctor did say brought more frustration than anything: the one thing she hypothesized, has no fix. Again--anguish, desperation, grieving to the nth degree. Tears were overflowing, spilling down into my brand new blue pashmina, and visible, physical sobbing took place while I drove home. 

Now I think back to that cropped “picture” of my surroundings. What a work of art. And if we really look into our own situations in life, whatever they may be, I bet we could find little masterpieces all around, surrounding us, waiting to be discovered and reveled in. God, our most loving and sovereign Creator, has hidden clues to His greatness all around us. He has given us little puzzles to piece together throughout the span of our lives, whether they are around us physically, or maybe somehow the pieces have been woven throughout the fabric of our very lives, traversing the many days and months and years that number us. 

I feel so very blessed to know that the many blood tests I did go through came back normal and not problematic. I really couldn’t see that at the very moment of the great revealing; that these results meant great things, marvelous things. I don’t need a kidney transplant, I don’t have chronic blood disorders, I have normally functioning organs, praise God! 

So whatever situation arises in our lives, whether they are small, or seem to be larger than anything this side of the atmosphere, remember to take out your tools and start looking for snippets to crop and frame. Those are the elements in life to remember. Those are the pieces that will always glorify God, that will cause a smile to form upon His fatherly face. It’s a glorious thing when your child is able to look outwardly, from a broken inward situation, and see the proverbial silver lining. And how much greater is it when that person uses this gift--this cropped portrait from within the larger, possibly uglier picture--and gifts it to someone else. A glimmer of faith arises, a soul is reborn. Finding God in common situations is beautiful. Finding God in difficult ones, a miracle.

As the apostle Paul said:

“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. 

“It is written: ‘I believed; therefore I have spoken.’ With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence. All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4:6-18

signals

There are certain times in life when driving is a mundane and monotonous activity. Then there are other times, when one can have the most enlightening and revelatory moments while sitting behind the wheel. Of course, there are still other times when things can come to a crashing halt... but that's not the topic of today's blog... however it can apply...

I was on my way home the other night and came upon a stoplight as it yellowed. The five or so cars sharing this stretch of four-lane road with me all lit up the night simultaneously with the bright red hues that brake lights are famous for. I, of course, joined in the ritual as well. Almost instantly I realized that we had all done the same thing, because of a signal. 

Signals, or signs, are commands. They show us where to go, how to act or respond, or what to do. Often times in our Christian walk many signals come our way. I wonder... how many signals have I seen/heard/felt loud and clear, and have completely ignored them? 

What would happen if we were to equate our lives to driving a car? "I'm in a hurry, so I can't really pay attention to the red light up here/BAM! What just happened?" You get the point. How is it that we, people professing Jesus' lordship in our lives, can so easily ignore the commands, or signals, that He gives? Now, we don't always ignore Him. This is good. But how many times have I actually heard Him so clearly, but felt that my needs were more important? It sends a tidal wave of grief to my spirit to think of how often I have rebelliously chosen myself over Him. 

Now, I do know that because of Jesus and His immensely beautiful sacrifice, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Him. (Romans 8:1) But something else I know is this: When I was approaching that stoplight with my fellow travelers, and we all hit our brakes in a moment of synchronicity, I felt an immediate sense of togetherness--we belonged together for that one moment in time. I know it sounds corny, but I also know that God was using that moment to reveal Himself a bit more clearly to me. For that I am more than grateful. 

There is such a beauty that comes from the body of Christ coming together and actually moving forward in what the Lord God has spoken to them. When God speaks to His church, we not only need to listen, but we also need to DO what He says. When we actually DO what He says, something wonderful happens: we get to move on in maturity! Together, as one body, the way Christ has called us to move. It is a lovely thing to see people--together--not only seeing the signals, but then to see them doing what those signals tell us to do. Breath-taking. 

Keeping our eyes and ears open... and our feet willing to walk where He tells us. That's where I want us to be.