Utterances of Life

Utterances of Life

One night, I was a millisecond away from drifting off to sleep, when the Lord spoke three words. They came, bing-bing-bing. I knew if I yielded to sleep, the words would vanish. So I wrenched myself awake and stumbled through the dark to find a notebook and pen. That’s hard to do if you have sleep issues.

Patrisha Gazy's word to me specifically, picturing the hidden treasure that I value.

Patrisha Gazy painted this as a word for me–showing the hidden treasure that I value.

Truth is, I treasure the voice of God—in Scripture, but also when He speaks in fresh ways.

I wrote down the three words. They made no sense at the time.

God regularly speaks in mysteries, bypassing my intellect to reach my spirit. An interruption to my thoughts is often God interjecting His voice in curious ways. It’s like a treasure hunt as I ponder and search out the meanings. God puts a tidbit of revelation on my horizon as an appetizer. If I search for more, it often leads to a full course spread on His banquet table.

Over the past twenty years, I began to realize that God knows the English language. I don’t know why—but that came as a surprise to me. Maybe I thought He was limited to Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek.

Having a command of the King’s English, God can easily bring a single word or short phrase across the screen of my mind. Sometimes He whispers it in my ears. And the words He speaks are potent with meaning, offering guidance or warning. Some words reveal the enemy’s angle. Others are like keys, unlocking barricaded doors. Instructional words carry the tenor of fatherly advice. Some phrases drip with poetry and love. Others calm my worried heart, bringing supernatural peace. And all His words bolster my faith.Continue reading

Coddling Danger

Coddling Danger

Okay, so it’s late one night. I’m finishing up the dishes, when my husband says, “What that noise?” I’m dog-tired but shut off the water to see what he’s talking about.

BEEP.

I hear the familiar “chirp” of a smoke alarm battery about to die. It’s loud enough to be annoying.

We have two smoke alarms close together—one in the hall and another a few feet away inside the bedroom door. We stand underneath both trying to determine which one is beeping.

Wait for it…BEEP.

BatteriesIt has to be the bedroom one. I get a ladder and a new 9-volt battery. Once Duncan snaps it in, we pause and listen. BEEP. Good grief! There’s no sleeping with that going on. We check expiration dates on the battery packages and try other new ones. BEEP.

I close the door to see if it’s really the hall smoke alarm after all. BEEP.

It’s not.

Who are you going to call at 11:00 p.m.? I get on my computer to watch YouTube tutorials, thinking—how complicated can this be? Duncan is so irritated he’s threatening to cut wires.

I watch several How-To-Stop-The-Beep videos and say to myself—we must be idiots!  I know how to change a battery.

BEEP.

Duncan gets the pliers and finally yanks out the electric-wire plug from the back of the smoke alarm. There! That should do it for now. Meanwhile, I’m learning all about 10-year batteries on YouTube.

BEEP.

What on earth? The plastic device is still beeping without electricity or battery power. It’s The Smoke Alarm From Hell! We are driven mad! How can this be? Duncan’s about to get a sledge hammer. Continue reading

Subterranean Anger

Subterranean Anger

“I’m nice, but a little bit mean today,” my granddaughter said. In her own way, she was saying that she felt angry.  Laney is two-and-a-half.

Laney with kitty face“It’s okay to feel mad,” I said, stroking her bangs to one side. I reminded her that I felt mad at our dog for not coming when called.  “It’s just not okay to be mean,” I explained, “but you can be mad.” I wondered if she could understand the distinction.

Many years ago, when I was young, I decided to be the good child. Maybe I saw certain advantages in it. My sister had a bolder personality and got in trouble some.

I was a quieter soul, an observer.

I remember being given a small necklace. It had a white marble pendant with a gold band around its center. In fine script, The Golden Rule was engraved on the band. The simple ethical code made a profound impression on me.

Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.

My family in 1962

My family in 1962

In some ways, trying to be good was connected to a deep love for my father. My dad was and is a safe, wise, and approachable man, and I was quite sure that he’d love me no matter what. Still, being compliant is often about winning approval.

I tried to do everything “right,” but I wasn’t perfect. I had a bit of gumption and remember getting spanked.

You, got spanked?” My husband goaded. “What for?Continue reading