back to the little things

It's nice to get back to the little things I was talking about before some of the "big things" hit. This week I took the time to prepare a nice dinner for my family. It was so weird because I cook dinner most of the week nights, but this time it was different. If you begin to think that this woman is going a bit "balmy" after you read this, rest assured, I'm really okay.

But this time I took my own advice (about being careful with the little things) and decided to prepare this dinner with love. I know it sounds hokey, but there it is. My little experiment had an effect on me. I wanted to make something extra delicious and "homey" cause this is the last week my 20-something daughter, Jennie, will be with us. She is following her destiny to Dallas.

I started earlier in the day preparing a turkey dinner with our special cornbread/broccoli dish, with stir-fry veggies, sizzled with olive oil and shallots (mmm, smells so good). I wanted the smells to meet each person at the door, instead of my usual throw-it-together an hour before we eat. I find that to be stressful for everyone, and not enjoyable for me. So this time, I decided to enjoy the prep work. So, while I was working I was pondering all the good times I've had with my daughter this year, and how much I love her and appreciate who she is.

Anyway, before I get sappy, and start slobbering. . . I was sort of applying this love thing to the dinner, being careful with each dish and utensil as if this was some sort of ritual - a love-sending one. I had everything ready on time; the turkey was actually "resting" (before you carve it- 20") I was so calm and proud and expectant. But guess what?

I forgot that everyone wasn't going to be there for supper. My husband had a focus group, and Gracie came in late, so the rest of us sat down to eat, and then everyone had to dash away, leaving me with all the clean up. But I didn't mind; I was still in that zone I was telling you about, and so lovingly and carefully, cleaned and scrubbed all the dishes. Later, Jennie, came in and apologized because she knew what I had envisioned hadn't happened.

"It's okay, Jen," I told her because I was the one who benefitted from all the "love" preparations, and it still felt good. Maybe I had made the dinner to comfort me. I would be ready the next night to prepare another love feast with the left-overs when all the family could be there.

So I started the process all over again the next night. Again, I wanted it to be ready when all the troops hit home. I knew they'd be hungry. And so another beautiful dinner was ready about 6:00 (earlier than usual) when everyone hit the roost, steaming and streaming lovely smells, . But do you know what happened?

Everyone had to leave as soon as they walked in the door, one to get boxes for packing, one to get the truck and one to drive the other car home. All my family was in a "tizzy" as they say down home, and scurried away. At first I was soooo put out, and told my husband so, but then I remembered the love thing, and realized I could de-bone the part of the turkey while they were gone to make a casserole for the next night, our last one with Jen living in the house.

They all came back and we sat down together. But everyone was stressed and hungry and conflict was in the air, and the beautiful dinner suddenly wasn't so appetizing. Before you feel sorry for me though, let me tell you, my family is most appreciative of the meals I prepare. I know they recognize my labor. But here's the coolest thing. I found a little treasure in the Bible that I want to share with all the cooks out there everywhere. Our reward will go far beyond the miniscule appreciation we get for preparing the meals. LISTEN to THIS!

"Who then is the faithful and sensible slave whom his master put in charge of his household to give them their food at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master finds so doing when he comes. Truly, I say to you, that he will put him in charge of all his possessions." Matt. 24:45 ff.

Ha! We cooks of the world who feel so menial will have a special place of honor in heaven. That means God notices all the little labors of love we produce in the kitchen. I think somehow God loves food. But even if that's not true, I know He has a special place in his heart for the cooks.

Even if that reward wasn't out there, I just noticed how much of a reward I got for lovingly preparing those meals this week. I felt good about myself and those I was serving. Just one of the little things that make a big difference.

So we'll try again tonight. You can be sure I'll talk to Jesus about it - I know He understands the importance of the "last supper." Stay posted, I'll let you know next week how it goes.

A "Marked" woman

As you might have read, years ago I began an adventure of taking God at His word and standing on the promises I have found in the Bible. A different road than my particular brand of religion.

Things have gotten more personal between God and me, and it has been an adventure to say the least. So much has happen that I've recorded in my book coming out in the spring called, WordSpeak: His Word, Your Voice. Recently, a most wondrous thing has happened to me.

I have suffered with migraines for 12 years. Taking med's, seeing doc's, feeling suppressed and depressed, the whole gamut. Some of the med's lead to physical depression. So many of my days have been stolen by the nauseating vise that grips my head, at times for a week or more. I have even gotten to the point of wondering what's the use of living like this.

But not anymore.

You will have to get the book to read more of the details of the new philosophy of prayer (cheap plug, I know). But the gist is taking a scripture promise that applies to a specific problem and praying it and then declaring it over my circumstance. Recently, I began to notice a verse in my consciousness that said, "He sent forth His word and healed them"(Ps. 107:20)

so I began praying that exact verse over my head. For about 3 weeks, the verse kept floating into my conscious mind and I would simply declare it as I walked from one room to another.

"Lord, send your word and heal my head" I'd say, or "God, you have sent forth your word and I am healed." Honestly, I wasn't particularly invigorated when I said it. It's just a routine I'd gotten into.

However, a few weeks before I'd received a text message from an unknown phone# asking me how long I'd had the migraines. "That's weird," I thought, and texted back, "Who is this?"

Turned out to be a new number from one of my kids. SoI counted up the time and concluded it had been 12 years since the migraines began in earnest. But I never heard back from them.

This incident reminded me of a prayer I'd prayed this past year after I'd read the story of the woman in the Bible who was healed by touching the hem of Jesus' robe. She had suffered from hemorrhaging for 12 years and had been to many doctors, but it had only gotten worse. Boy did I empathize. But she was healed. So I did the same thing, reaching out to touch Jesus' robe like a mime, I prayed, "Jesus, you healed her after 12 years, why not me? 12 years of migraines is long enough!" I said with emphasis. But I continued to have them.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard that my son and brother, both named "Mark," had attended a healing prayer conference in Dallas, TX. At the end of the session, the teachers called out conditions to be prayed for. One got up and said, "Some woman who has suffered from migraines for 12 years is being healed tonight" When no one stood, they went on,"It's not someone here, but it's someone's mother or sister."

My son immediately reached for the phone and texted me asking how long I'd had them, but he didn't receive an text back, (even though I thought I sent it). But being moved by the Spirit, he excitedly stood up saying, "She's my mother and your sister, Uncle Mark, so I'm standing for her!"

Weeks later, I got the news from my sister-in-law who had attended the session and she excitedly said, "Laura, that was you, you are healed!" But inwardly, I wasn't so sure. After all, I had been to numerous healing lines over the past years, and had been believing God for healing all this time, only to wake the next morning with a migraine. But another day headache-free came and went, and came and went. I spoke of this to my husband and daughters, who said, "Mom, you'd better receive that." So I did, inwardly fearful of another disappointment.

A few days later, I happened to come across a book sent to me by another friend in Houston, about divine healing, but I had read them all, and hadn't taken the time to look into it. I glanced at the book which fell open to a page entitled, "Jesus healed through a Spoken Word"

The story of the healing of the centurion's servant was on the page, and I realized that the servant was healed simply by the spoken words of Jesus. The faith of the centurion who told Jesus He didn't have to come to his house, but only had to say the word, and he knew his servant would be healed. Jesus was astonished at this man's faith, and told him that the servant would be healed that day. And he was.

Amazing. I thought. And then the dominoes tumbled. The prayer for healing after 12 long years, the "act" of reaching out to touch the hem of Jesus' robe, the spoken word prayer, "He sent forth HIs word and healed me, " the spoken word at the conference, my son standing on my behalf - it all had worked together for my good. And there I sat, miles away, with no stars or lightening bolts, being healed of a debilitating condition after 12 years.

Today marked the official one month anniversary. I never remember going that long without a headache for 12 years. I have had neck aches, and odd sensations in my upper shoulders and back which used to signal an oncoming headache, but it stops right there. It's as if God's hand is on the base of my head protecting it from any more assaults. My emotions are rising, as I think of how very personal my God has been to me. To think of how precious it is to be thought of in such a significant way.

You may be thinking, "Wow, nothing like that has ever happened to me." or "That kind of stuff doesn't happen for me" but I guarantee you I thought the same thing at times. I'm telling you this story because it is so wonderful and I want to publicly thank God for healing me, and praising Him in front of you all. But also, to encourage you to press for that which you need the most. I believe He desires to give HIs children good things, but there is a lot of debris in the way. It takes time, sometimes. Plus, when pain and discouragement rides so closely along with you, you need others to stand and believe for you like I did. That's why it would be nice to hear from you, what you want to believe for, and let me and others believe for you. Let's press in together, and then we'll all be singing praises to the rafters. What do you think?

30 Days & Counting

Who would have thought 30 days ago that I would not yet have a migraine ? What I mean by that is nauseating pain radiating up and down my neck and into my left cranium. Sometimes the nausea comes first, and sometimes just the pain. But who could have known then, 30 days ago, that that would be for me a thing of the past. Certainly not I, who has experienced these persistent little suckers for 12 years. That's right. For 12 years, every week, sometimes 3-9 days in a row, I struggle to stay present in my world. Between the pain and the medication, I felt wiped out most days. When I would have a headache, everyone around me seemed to know even though I tried to hide it. They could see it in my eyes.

"Why don't you just lie down?" my exasperated husband would ask me.

Because I would answer, that would be letting the migraine win. Not to mention just robbing me of one more day of life. But that lifestyle ceased to exist 30 days ago. I can't wait to tell you what happened. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. -L