My bucket list

    
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)
      
      
One of the things I did this past year was to compile a bucket list.
      
On it I put hiking, kayaking, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, horseback riding in the Colorado Rockies, spending a month in Alaska and visiting the Canadian Rockies. Perhaps I should add “getting and staying in shape.”

I was hesitant at first to list anything. Unlike the two characters in the movie, I don’t have a billionaire to fund the fulfillment of the list of things I want to do before I kick the bucket. So phrases such as “we can’t afford it” and “be realistic” kept popping up.
      
We humans can come up with all kinds of reasons our deepest desires and wildest dreams won’t or can’t be fulfilled. So we plod on, not allowing ourselves to hope or dream because we don’t want to deal with disappointment. Or we make a bucket list of “safe” things—those that don’t border on impossible.
      
I had to push the hope-sucking words out of my mind with another phrase: “If money were no object…” and set my mind free to dream.
      
When I got brave enough to write my dreams down, I began to see the possibilities—how they can be fulfilled. I began to hope and dream again like I did when I was much younger.
      
What is life without dreams? Without hope?
      
In 626 B.C. God’s people thought they were without hope, too. Sent into exile for persistent willful disobedience, they were given these words: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).
      
The next 70 years weren’t going to be pretty. Babylon would be a far cry from the Promised Land flowing with milk and honey God had helped their ancestors conquer. But don’t give up hope, He told them.
      
Hope—what we need to get us through our Babylon times, what we need to get us through life even when it isn’t tough.
      
There may be those who say this verse isn’t for us today—that it was meant only for God’s people at that time. There may be those who say this verse has been so overused, it’s become cliché.
      
But these 29 words say so much—and I believe they are for us today, too, for “the grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever” (Isaiah 40:8).
       
“For I know the plans I have for you” —God has a plan for your life, a purpose for YOU.
      
“…to prosper you and not to harm you.”— Although life includes pain, God’s purpose is not to harm but to help you to grow. God’s plan for you is good.
      
“…to give you hope.” Life without hope is like soda without the fizz, like a long, dark night with no sign of morning. Hope comes from God, so ask Him for it.
      
“…to give you…a future.” God has a future planned for you, but He reveals it one day—one moment—one step—at a time.
      
Plans, hope, a future—Isn’t that what a bucket list is all about? It gives us hope that someday our dreams may come true.
      
So go ahead—let yourself dream again. Make up your bucket list. Then give it to God and watch your hope begin to grow.
      
      
Teach me to dream again, Lord. I’ve forgotten how. Amen.

Photo courtesy of Murray Pura

 Special-Tea: Read Psalm 139 

When the bottom falls out

Help, God—the bottom has fallen out of my life! – Psalm 130:1 (The Message)
      
      
Has the bottom ever fallen out of your life?
      
A job layoff. A death. A wayward child. A broken relationship. An unwanted divorce. Sudden or chronic illness. A diagnosis of mental disorder. Insurmountable financial challenges. Addiction – yours or that of someone you love. Your most cherished dreams go up in smoke.
      
You wonder if God hears your prayers, knows of your pain. You question if there is a God – one who cares what you’re going through. One who has the power to change things.
      
Like the psalmist you cry, “How long, O Lord? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?” (Psalm 13:1–2)
      
Then you feel guilty for talking to God that way or like a failure because you don’t have enough faith for your prayers to be answered. Your hope is dried up, like the old bones lying in a desert wasteland described in Ezekiel’s vision.
      
Take heart. Even Jesus, as He hung dying on the cross, cried, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:35)
      
Think of how Mary and Martha felt when they sent for Jesus with the message, “The one you love is sick,” and He didn’t come for four days. By then their brother Lazarus’s body was rotting in the tomb.
      
We’ve all been there, haven’t we?
      
I love what I call the “but factor” in the psalms. There the psalmist is, pouring out his heart to God – his anguish, frustration, pain – and halfway through the psalm, he says, “But . . .”
      
“But” is a word of transition, a signal a change is about to take place, a contrast to what was said previously.
      
“But I trust in Your unfailing love” (Psalm 13:5), “But I pray to You, O LORD” (Psalm 69:13), “But God” (Psalm 64:7), “But I call to God, and the LORD saves me” (Psalm 55:16) . . . are just a few examples of the “but factor.”
      
Pore through the psalms yourself, looking for the hinge verse where the psalmist turns from despair to hope.
      
“Is anything too hard for the LORD?” El Shaddai asked Abraham (Genesis 18:14).
      
“Nothing is impossible with God,” the angel told Mary (Luke 1:37).
      
I like the way the song “God Likes to Work” by Karen Peck and New River puts it: “God likes to work when your back’s to the wall, when facing the battle and you’re just about to fall; so there’ll be no mistaking when He blesses and fills – God likes to work when nothing else will.” (Click on the song title to go to You Tube to watch and listen to Karen sing this beautiful song.)
      
Has the bottom fallen out of your life? Don’t despair. God’s hands are there, waiting to catch you.

      
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God! (Psalm 42:11).

Special-Tea: Read Psalm 130; John 11:1–45; Ezekiel 37:1–14

FOR FURTHER THOUGHT:  Read and meditate on the following Scriptures

John 14:1
John 16:33
James 1:12
1 Peter 1:7
Matthew 19:26
Luke 1:37
1 Peter 5:7
Philippians 4:6-7
Jonah 2:2
Isaiah 48:10
2 Corinthians 4:16-17
2 Corinthians 12:9
Psalm 30:11
Psalm 33:20
Jeremiah 29:11
Romans 8:28
Romans 8:38-39
Romans 8:35, 37
Psalm 50:15
Psalm 34:4
Psalm 34:19
Psalm 34:18
Psalm 34:17
Proverbs 13:12
Psalm 30:5b

Have a God-filled week!

In a fix

Let your hope keep you joyful, be patient in your troubles, and pray at all times. – Romans 12:12 (TEV)
 
When one thing breaks, everything else thinks it’s OK to break too. Well, not everything. But it sure seems that way.
    
Two weeks ago the emergency brake on the Ranger stuck. I backed into the turnaround, but when I tried to go forward, the motor stalled out. I tried again. The truck wouldn’t budge—except to go backward. After three or four attempts, I figured it was the emergency brake. It had been acting up for months, the dash light coming on while I was driving, even though the brake wasn’t on. This time, however, the dash light wasn’t on, but the brake was. The problem turned out to be a cable, which hubby replaced.
    
But when he came into the house that evening after fixing the emergency brake, I knew something was wrong. After being married to the man for 37 years, I can tell he’s upset by the set of his mouth.
    
“The four-wheel-drive’s out,” he said.
    
“That’s no surprise,” I said. “It’s been acting up for months.”
    
I always knew when he’d had the truck in four-wheel-drive because it stayed on—kind of—even though the knob on the dash was turned to two-wheel-drive and there was no light on the dash indicating it was on. I felt it in the steering and the way it rumbled going down the road.
    
The next day the lake effect snow machine decided to crank up and stay cranked up. Lake effect snow means not only snow flying sideways, but wind-caused drifts. I got stuck twice this week. The first time I got myself out. The second time my son had to pull the truck out. But not to worry. After two days the wind died down and the lane was ripe for the snow blower. Except it broke, too.
    
So here we are, between two snowstorms, with no four-wheel-drive and no snow blower. But I did get a song out of it, to the tune of “Jungle Bells.”
    

Dashing through the snow in a broken four-wheel-drive. 

Through the drifts we go, sliding side to side. 

Skidding 'round the turn gave me such a fright; 

It’s no fun to navigate these icy roads tonight! 

Oh, slip and slide, slip and slide, tires spinning 'round—

Up the hill, around the curve, all the way to town. 

Oh! Slip and slide, slip and slide, it’s a scary ride. 

All I want for Christmas is a brand new four-wheel-drive!

    
I sing it all the time. It keeps my spirits up and reminds me good things are often born of difficulty. At the edge of discouragement, on the brink of despair, I found inspiration.
    
A new four-wheel-drive this year for us is a financial impossibility. But next year . . . I can always hope—right?
     
As I light the third Advent candle, Father, I think of the many things in life that need fixed. You sent Your Son to make the biggest fix of all—to fix a broken relationship between You and us. Thank you. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Isaiah 61:1-2; Matthew 11:4-5

 

When darkness comes

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light. – Isaiah 9:2 (NIV)
    

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. –John 1:5 (RSV)

I have no idea what I’m going to write this week. I’m tired. I’m too busy. I can’t focus. My arm hurts. I haven’t had a decent, consistent prayer time in over a month. I’m disappointed—with myself for not finishing the 50K words for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month—I did 16,304) and with the fact that after all the hype and hope when I met with a book editor from a big publishing house in September, I didn’t get a book contract. A month after the meeting, the all-important “committee” that decides what gets published turned down my book proposal.
    
And my arm. About a month ago my left arm started buzzing. It’s gotten worse. The fingers on my left hand are tingly, numb, and itchy. It’s hard to type. The entire arm goes numb, then aches. Oh, how it aches! Sometimes I just want to groan. Sometimes I do. So I’ll have the surgery that was postponed last year at this time because my carpal tunnel syndrome had improved. I hope it’s soon—before Christmas so I can use the Christmas break to recuperate. Then I won’t have to miss any school. I’m having too much fun. OK, that’s one good thing I’ve written. But it’s hard to concentrate when your arm feels like a hive of angry bees is buzzing around in it.
    
Wednesday I did the 2011 budget. If we’re careful, we could get the credit card debt paid off by September, then the credit union loan by the end of 2011. Now, that excites me! Getting out of debt will mean we’ll be able to replace the 27-year-old roof that we’ve been talking about replacing for several years, and our two aging (1997 and 1999) vehicles. It means no more cramped, redneck porch, no more unusable door hanging on the front of the house, because when we put the roof on, we’ll also build front and back decks. Then, down the road, in the foreseeable future, new carpeting through the whole house and new living room furniture to replace what we bought in 1991. Or was it 1990?
    
The five-year plan I developed a couple of years ago to prepare us for retirement looks like it’s coming together. Please, Lord, let it.
    
Speaking of the Lord—remember my “Baker’s Dozen”? The list of 13 things I’d been praying about for years?  Exactly one year later after writing that list, seven out of 13 have been answered. The deck, the roof, the new vehicle, the furniture and carpeting are in the foreseeable future. Forget the book contract.
    
There. I’ve reached my word limit. And here I didn’t know what I was going to write about. But what have I said?
    
I started with discouragement, disappointment, pain, even nigglings of despair. Somewhere along the way, the negative gave way to the positive, the discouragement and disappointment to hope.
    
And that’s why Jesus came: to give us hope in a hopeless world.
      
As I light the second Advent candle, Father God, I am reminded that the light of Hope, flickering at first, has dispelled my darkness. Thank you. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Isaiah 9:1-7

Do you have a "Baker's Dozen" List? If not, why not list 13 things you've been praying for in a prayer journal. Open the journal and list them on the left side (the back of a page). Then, on the right side (on a fresh page), number 1 through 13, and on the top write "When and how God provided -- Jehovah Jireh. Then, write the date God answered that prayer and how. He will astound, amaze, and awe you with His answers.  And make sure to let me know about it.

Sick of Santa

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. – Proverbs 13:12 (NIV)

My husband and I love to watch movies, especially romantic comedies. This time of year, most of the movies are about Santa, Santa’s daughter or Santa’s son, Santa this, Santa that, Santa ad nauseam. The stories are basically the same—something’s happened to Santa and somebody has to save Christmas.
     
Save Christmas? Give me a break. Christmas doesn’t need saved—we do. And I’m sick of Santa—specifically what Santa has become. Christmas isn’t about Santa Claus.
     
Lest I be branded a Grinch, let me explain.

Growing up, I believed in Santa Claus. Christmas Eve in the Maddock home began with a supper of sauerkraut soup, bobalky (Slovak Christmas bread), and oplatky, a Christmas wafer embossed with religious Christmas images.  I hated the soup and refused to eat it, but my mother made it every year because my father liked it and because it was the traditional Slovak Christmas Eve fare. So all I ate was the oplatky, which was served with honey. I didn’t like honey, either.
     
But I wasn’t hungry anyway. It was Christmas Eve and Santa was coming! Because we attended Mass on Christmas morning, my parents avoided the battle of prying us away from our new toys by arranging for Santa to come right after supper on Christmas Eve. So as the dishes were cleared away, we three kids took our baths and donned our pajamas. No dallying around that night. We were all nestled and snug in our beds by the time the dishes were done.
     
We weren’t sleeping, of course—only pretending to be. I remember listening for sleigh bells and hooves on the roof, and wondering what I got. Once my parents had put our presents under the tree, they called up the stairs, “You can come down now. Santa came.”
     
Looking back, I don’t remember much of what I received. One year I got a purse. Another year I got a doll—not the Barbie I wanted, but a doll nonetheless. She had black hair and blue eyes, was much bigger than Barbie, and I named her “Rebecca.” One year I got a stuffed gray squirrel that I named “Alvin”—never mind that Alvin was a chipmunk. City girl that I was, I didn’t know the difference. One year my brother got a self-propelled robot (did they have battery-operated toys in the 1950s?) that terrified me.
     
What I remember most, though, are hope and holiness: the hope I felt on Christmas Eve that I would get what I wanted, and the holiness of the church service on Christmas morning that reminded me of the reason for the season.
     
Christmas is about something far more magical than how Santa slips down and up chimneys and visits every home on the planet in one night in a sleigh powered by flying reindeer. It’s about something higher and deeper and wider and longer. Something that ignites when we are children and flares at Christmastime when we are adults.
     
It’s about Hope.
     
Dear God, as I light the first Advent candle, I am reminded of the hope You gave us through Your Son Jesus—hope for now and eternity. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Matthew 1:18-23