Book Review: Please Sorry Thanks

Ever since I encountered In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day, I've been a fan of Mark Batterson's books. He turns a clever phrase. He drives home significant points through story. My goal is to become a better person and follow harder after Christ. His books always bolster that goal.

In Please Sorry Thanks, Batterson highlights three words that, when used honestly, can change people, situations, and relationships. We should all make use of these powerful words. As it states on the back cover, "Nothing opens doors like please. Nothing mends fences like sorry. Nothing builds bridges like thanks."

While please and thanks hold importance, for me the most significant passages fell to the word sorry. I appreciated his explanation for three levels of forgiveness: detached forgiveness, limited forgiveness, and full forgiveness. I know my tendency is to jump just far enough to offer detached forgiveness, but that is insufficient. What we need is full forgiveness, and that is only possible with the help of the Holy Spirit. 

I also appreciated the section on sorry because it articulated a difficulty I encountered with our traumatic event in June. He writes, "If someone is grieving, you don't have to solve the situation for them. In fact, you can't.... offer a sincere sorry. Give the gift of tears... of ears." The ones who ministered most effectively offered tears, ears, and prayers. They did so with no accompanying judgment or instruction. Thankfully, God loves us despite our sin and waywardness. Indeed, as Batterson observes, "The love of God is... not contingent upon our performance." And he further articulated something I learn from that trauma, "What God does for us is never just for us, it's always for others."

It is my prayer that I will build on the lessons learned in this book. I want to seek the kingdom success of a giving spirit that serves others. In that endeavor, I plan to implement these three magic words even more in my life. I will pursue with please and apologize sincerely with sorry. I will express gratitude in recognition of the miraculous in my life. Perhaps my words will help change the world. This civility (of please, sorry, and thanks) brings everyone to the table.

Politics, Pandemics, and Prodigals, Oh My!

Photo by Nicole Wreyford on Unsplash

It is November 2020. I am sick to death of my Facebook feed, exploding daily with fomentation of conflicting perspectives. Back and forth, each side insists that their man will lead them to the healing this land needs. "If only So and so is in power, we will see humankind improve." I don't buy it. 

Human effort can never eradicate the ramifications of spiritual illness. No matter who sits in the White House, America remains threatened by wholesale acceptance of sin and sin's infectious disease. This is the true pandemic. The insidious, invisible illness. Are you infected? Is anyone else infected by your actions, your movements? We are free to move about the country, passing along the virus indiscriminately. We are free to place our trust wherever political argument moves us the most. Why do we seek a political cure for a spiritual disease? Arguing a political perspective rarely changes human action.

If plagued by butting heads in our nation, I'm also tormented by butting heads in my home. I've been living in the parable of the prodigal son. Camped there for a season. Fully frustrated with my child's rebellious choices. Equally frustrated that the loving father in the parable does not force his child's compliance. God knows what man needs, yet allows him to choose the very action that creates the chasm. God, in His sovereignty, knows the consequences of our choices. Despite concern for our best interest, He will not dictate our way. There's an old Salvation Army chorus that declares, "His way is best you see... I'm in His hands." (Take a moment, it is worth the listen. Or view the full lyrics, with verses.) But, alas, we can ignore His commands, walk away from the Father, follow the road signs that declare "Happiness... ten miles down the road." Many say, "Get Your hands off me! This is my body! This is my life!"

It is like my child is on a train. The tracks have been blown to smithereens further down... is it over a flat surface or over a catastrophic abyss? Will the end bring minimal damage or maximum devastation? I can't guess the end, but I believe the One who knows and sees the impending danger. And so I post my signs, offer my arguments. Stop! These tracks are not reliable. Danger up ahead! Get off the train before it is too late.

But other signs stand posted, and he persists in following those. They read: "This is the answer to your problems. This will bring you the happiness and comfort you desire. Don't listen to the naysayers. They just want to spoil your fun. You have a perfect right to live as you choose. Stay on the train. Enjoy the view."

Relativists say, "You have your truth. I have mine. You believe what you want and I will believe what I want." I don't buy relativism either. Absolute truth exists. Both sides cannot be right at the same time. Yet, even when truth is crystal clear, man will rationalize and justify his departure.

For example, I've been listening to Siddhartha Mukherjee's excellent biography of cancer. The current chapters describe studies with incontrovertible evidence that smoking causes lung cancer. Yet the tobacco companies, eager for profit, spun advertising campaigns to minimize the evidence or call it into question. One man, disturbed by the one-sided advertising petitioned that truths from the other perspective deserved equal time so that an individual could parse through the evidence and make an educated decision about their actions. But here's the dilemma. Even when faced with evidence that smoking causes cancer, people continue to light up a cigarette. Their perceived benefits outweigh the arguments against use. As the book highlighted, some will walk away from chemotherapy and insist on having a smoke. You could post a sign saying "The bridge is out!" and they puff away, smile and say, "Just look at that view!"

Alas, I am a prime example of this. I'm knee-deep in a book about the protocol for Dr. Dale Bredesen's End of Alzheimer's program. As if to set the signs aglow in neon, I had a most troubling experience the other day. We sat at the table. I was disturbed because John had added pepper to the corn (flavoring he desires and I do not). As the others started eating, I said, "Aren't we going to pray?" They looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. "Mom, we just prayed. You even bowed your head." It brought me to tears. I had no recollection of the moment they insisted had just occurred. Of course, wanting to reassure me, John said it happened because I was perseverating about the pepper on the corn. True, but I saw the sign.

For all the research into better diet and the books about lessening my chances of disease and difficulty, I continue to eat foods I know harm my health. I'd rather enjoy the taste of my cream cheese squares than begin again to rein in my out-of-control eating habits. Argue all you want. I'm going to disregard what I know to be true and eat what I know to be unhealthy.

As for my child, he may persist too. We can argue our perspective until the end of time, but he is free to choose what he will. When we present evidence, he pooh-poohs it and points to articles that support his position. He can find someone to defend his beliefs. He can say, "Get your rules off me! This is my life, my future, my decision." As Proverbs 21:2 says, "Every way of a man is right in his own eyes."

Given the inadequacy of argument, I should despair. If reason does not show the way and if reason, even when admitted, doesn't slow the way, what are we to do? But there I am clear. Arguments will not alter hearts. Superior debating will not affect change. God, in His wisdom, shows me the way. Philippians 4:6 - "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Luke 18:1 - "He told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart." Only by the grace of God will spiritual eyes open and physical lives mend.

This is the only viable solution for our country, as well. A president will neither make America great again nor make America nice again. It is only a man behind the curtain with no magical powers. As long as we refuse to turn from our wicked ways, we can expect the outcome in which we sit. We cannot contact trace this disease of sin. And God will not allow sin to reign forever. Even His patience has an end. But, His solution again? 2 Chronicles 7:14 - "If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land." Romans 12:12 - "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." I beg God to root out the pride and pigheadedness within me and remind me of His sovereignty. As Charles Spurgeon wrote, "When you go through a trial, the sovereignty of God is the pillow upon which you lay your head." I'm on my knees for my nation, for my family, for my son. Our solution? Repent of sin, accept His grace, and follow God's biblical road.

Book Review: Love Letters

I've been enjoying Debbie Macomber's Rose Harbor Inn series. The stories, while simple, are pleasantly engaging and always uplifting. Once again, in this third installment, Macomber manages to weave a few stories of reconciliation and healing.

While the inn's owner, Jo Marie, is busy trying to ferret out more information about her mysterious handyman, Mark Taylor, she also plays hostess to several visitors at the inn. The young Ellie Reynolds comes to Cedar Cove on a mission her mother fears is destined for danger. She is meeting, in person, a man she met on the Internet. Her over-controlling mother phones repeatedly to make sure that Ellie is safe and secure, but neither Ellie or her mother are prepared for the events this meeting sets into motion.

Maggie and Roy Porter have come to the inn for a weekend away in the hopes of restoring their crumbling marriage. With hurts on both sides, they attempt to reconcile and forge a better relationship. Before they can do that, they are presented with a bit of news that threatens to shake the very foundations on which they are attempting to rebuild their marriage.

In each of these stories, including Jo Marie's own story, love letters are exchanged bearing expressions of love forged in difficulties. These written words hold the power to provide healing. Sadly, the letters have to be received and fully believed in order to work their magic. If you are looking for an inspirational series full of redemption and hope, you cannot go wrong with this series of books. I'm anxiously looking forward to the fifth and final installment, Sweet Tomorrows, due out on August 2nd of 2016.

Book Review: Rose Harbor in Bloom

Jo Marie Rose is grieving the loss of her husband, Paul, and plows herself into her bed and breakfast establishment for comfort and healing. Her guests also seem to find healing when they come to stay at the Rose Harbor Inn. This second installment continues a similar path of bringing hurting people to the inn, where they find restoration, reconciliation, and love.

Annie Newton arrives at the inn for the scheduled 50th anniversary celebration she has planned for her grandparents. The grandparents seem like anything but a loving, devoted couple as they squabble and bicker at every moment. But, planning the celebration gives Annie hope as she has just cut off her own engagement to a man who was unfaithful. Will she find the kind of love her grandparents have exemplified for years? Are they not the loving couple she thought they were? Will she make peace with Oliver, her grandparents next door neighbor?

Mary Smith has come to the inn with her own struggles and secrets. Cedar Cove has a special place in her heart and she comes to the inn with hopes of rekindling contact with her former love interest, George Hudson. Because of her battle with cancer, she is fearful of coming back into his life, but will George allow her to slip away again? Will Mary find healing for the biggest ache her heart has carried for the past nineteen years?

I enjoyed the simple tales of lives changed and loves restored. Debbie Macomber weaves a beautiful environment and colorful characters together to bring great resolutions. I will happily look for the third installment for my listening pleasure while I work out.

Book Review: The Inn at Rose Harbor

After listening to the fourth installment of this series, I thought I should go back to the beginning and start again. Thankfully, it seems like each installment works perfectly fine as a stand-alone novel, but I still prefer to go at things in order. I was not disappointed with this audio book.

Jo Marie Rose is opening The Rose Harbor Inn, a Cedar Cove bed-and-breakfast establishment, after the death of her military husband. She feels he has promised her that the venture will bring healing to herself and to all who come within the walls of the Rose Harbor Inn. As in the other installment, Jo Marie welcomes two guests for a stay at the inn. Josh Weaver is returning to Cedar Cove to place his bitter and recalcitrant step-father on hospice. Abby Kincaid is returning to attend her brother's wedding after many years of absence from the town.

Both Josh and Abby are in desperate need of forgiveness and reconciliation. Josh harbors deep resentment towards the step-father who threw him out, as a teenager, shortly after his mother's death. The old man seems none too happy to see Josh return and fights his intervention with all the strength he can muster. Meanwhile, Abby has lived in a world of pain and regret, ever since an auto accident took the life of her best friend, Angela, while she was at the wheel. Unable to forgive herself and sure that others still harbor resentment towards her, Abby is dreading the visit to Cedar Cove. The burden she carries is heavy and she is worried it will all be too overwhelming to return.

The novel is full of themes of forgiveness, healing, and redemption. The inn works its wonders and lives are changed. The characters are deeply wounded, yet refreshingly believable. The plot moves at a good pace and the resolution is satisfying. I will be searching out the rest of the series as it makes for such a good accompaniment to my morning walks.

Shattering the Hall of Mirrors

I'm on a journey back to God. He didn't leave me, but I certainly walked away from Him. I allowed a few significant life experiences to alienate me from the Lord and from several of His people (whose responses to my trials felt very un-Christlike). I entered a wilderness time and reacted much like the Israelites, with complaints about His provisions and doubt that His intentions were reliable on my behalf.

For quite a while, I've wanted to return, but the chasm seemed impassable. I think the thing that bridged that mighty gap was my return to Scripture. At the end of our CBLI encampment this year, I purchased a new NIV Bible. My old one had pretty much fallen apart (from previous use, not recent use). The prospect of a fresh clean Bible and a conviction that I really was neglecting the Word (one of several convictions resulting from an excellent course on Titus, taught by Linda Himes) propelled me into a commitment to read through the entire Bible and underline any verses which held significant meaning for me.

After finishing the NIV version, I decided to read the New Testament in The Message version. I have never read The Message version and must say that, so far, Romans has been my favorite. For today's reading, chapters 8 - 14, the section opened with the title "The Solution is Life on God's Terms." How true!

Several verses jumped out at me: "Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God," "I don't think there's any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times," "refusing to really deal with God on his terms, insisting instead on making their own deals, they have nothing to show for it," and "No one who trusts God... - heart and soul - will ever regret it."

It goes on to say of the loyal to the Lord, "They're holding on, not because of what they think they're going to get out of it, but because they're convinced of God's grace and purpose in choosing them. If they were only thinking of their own immediate self-interest, they would have left long ago." In describing those who fail to hold on, it says, "The 'self-interest Israel' became thick-skinned toward God. Moses and Isaiah both commented on this: 'Fed up with their quarrelsome, self-centered ways, God blurred their eyes and dulled their ears, Shut them in on themselves in a hall of mirrors, and they're there to this day.'"

And I believe that is where I have been - trapped in a hall of mirrors, seeing only myself and the hardships I have been called upon to face. My eyes have blurred to His love and my ears have dulled to His voice. I began to convince myself that He really wasn't there, or if He was it was only in the shadows. What I didn't recognize was the focus of my perspective. I didn't know I was in a hall of mirrors.

Now, I'm determined to shatter that hall of mirrors. Just as I said focusing on losses deprives one of hope and joy, focusing on myself and the hardships of life causes me to be deprived of a closeness to my Maker, who is standing, anxious to call me back to Himself.

Another meaningful verse: "In one way or another, God makes sure that we all experience what it means to be outside so that he can personally open the door and welcome us back in." God persists in testing us and wooing us.

But my focus has to return to God, not away from myself and onto others. When I was living briefly in England, I was asked to give a devotional to the Upper Norwood Band (amazing, really, given that I was a woman and a very young person). In that devotional, I compared our walk with God to being a bandsmen. We cannot blindly play the part we think we're supposed to play. And we cannot listen to those around us to determine whether we are on the mark. The very best that we can do is to play our part, to the best of our ability, while focusing on the conductor of the music. Ignoring the conductor or focusing on the sounds of those around us both fall short of creating the best music.

With the father of the boy healed by Jesus in Mark 9:24, I say, "I believe. Help thou, my unbelief." I say, "shatter my personal hall of mirrors. Lift my eyes from myself and others and focus them on You."

Losing Sight of the Person Behind the Problem

On Sunday, I had a BAD day. One of the things that played a role in the demise of my mood was a misplaced credit card. I was cleaning out my purse and handing over the week's receipts to my husband. It became clear that the card was nowhere to be found. I had to mention it to my husband (looking back, I'm thinking I should have waited until I had been searching for more than fifteen minutes).

I dread situations like this. He is extremely careful with his receipts and his money. Indeed, if I so much as leave the change from my pockets on my dresser top, it will disappear. I am not nearly so careful. Often I will drop the change I am given right into my purse, assuming that at the end of the week, I will clean it all out and put everything right again.

So, here I was with a cleaned out purse, and a missing credit card. Once he knew, the pressure was on. I couldn't even remember where I had used it last. He was immediately ready to call the company and cancel the card. I begged for time to search various coat pockets and dresser tops, etc. However, all those searches came to naught. He became more frantic. I became more upset - both upset with my mistake and upset with his reaction.

On the third or fourth scouring of my purse, I found the card. It had slipped into a zippered section of the purse that I rarely use and didn't realize was unzipped. The relief should have made the day better. Instead, I began to stew over the unfairness of his perfection and my irresponsibility.

He came to apologize. I would like to say that I graciously accepted the apology and everything was mended. Alas, my pride was too big for that and I chose to simmer in my own resentment.

Cue this morning.

We have been having some horrible nights lately. Trevor wakes in a panic about three or four times a night and wants ME to come lie with him. Up until last weekend, I was so focused on the problem that I ceased to see the sweet child behind it. It was literally ruining every night's sleep. Thankfully, a blogging friend helped redirect my focus.

Swistle recently posted about a similar nightly battle going on in her household with her five year old daughter. It was comforting to know that this falls in the spectrum of normal parental issues and helpful to read all the comments and suggestions. As a result, I put down an extra comforter and a sleeping bag for Trevor to crawl into on those nights when he needs to be near me.

The first night, it worked famously. He crept in, slid into his spot on the floor next to me and my sleep was uninterrupted. Last night, however, he would not be satisfied until Daddy left to sleep on the couch and gave up his side of our bed. Sean awoke and sensed that his brother had flown the coop, so he came in and slept on the bed roll on the floor. They both have serious colds and major nasal congestion, so I had two snoring, sniffling, grunting boys last night and VERY LITTLE SLEEP.

This morning, I gave up on sleep around 6:30 and (sensing my absence) both little boys rose around 6:45 a.m. Within minutes, Trevor was seated at a tray in front of the television with his breakfast. Alas, he must not have slept very well either. He sat staring at the television for more than half an hour and I became more frantic with each moment, spurring him to hurry with eating, to brush his teeth, to take some cold medicine and get on his shoes, coat, hat, gloves, and backpack.

In the end, the flashing lights of the bus were looming, I was screaming about how watching television causes him to dawdle and miss the bus, and he was in a heap on the floor crying and trying to quickly put on his shoes (which only made him move MORE SLOWLY). In the midst of all this stress, Sean let the dog out of the crate and he was communicating his need to be taken outside to do his duty. Trevor missed the bus!

I took the dog outside and breathed deeply. As the air cleared my head, I saw so very clearly that I had just reacted in the same way that had damaged me on Sunday. I had lost sight of Trevor in the problem of his missing the bus. In fact, I had magnified the problem so much that I couldn't see him behind it.

I came inside and resolved to eat my humble pie. Trevor was already waiting in the cold van. I climbed in the back seat with him and dried his tears.

"I owe you an apology, buddy," I said. "I'm sorry I yelled and got all upset. Missing the bus isn't the end of the world, but I made it look like that and that wasn't fair to you! I'm sorry that I lost my temper. I'm sorry that I hurt you in making the problem look way bigger than it really was."

I'm pretty sure this is a lesson I'll have to revisit a time or two. But for now, I'm really going to work on magnifying the person instead of the problem.

As for Sunday, Swistle had another good post to consider. She and another blogging friend exchanged "Crappy Day Gifts." These are a series of gifts, ranked according to level of difficulty. You save the gifts for an especially bad day, when such a gift can really smooth out the ruffled feathers of life. Swistle, like me, had a really, really bad day and opened one of her "Crappy Day Gifts," to discover a box of See's chocolates. I'm thinking THAT would have gone a long way to make up for the little credit card blunder (and everything else that soured that day). Then again, maybe I need to adjust my perception of what makes a crappy day. I noted that Swistle updated the story with a new post on the crappy day gifts and this crappy day, which she designated as medium made my crappy day look like a good day. Yikes.

Still, I'm wondering if there is anyone out there in cyber-land who might want to exchange crappy day gifts with me? If not, at least remember to magnify the person, not the problem.

P.S. In all fairness, (not, of course, to make myself feel better in any way -hee-hee) my husband is NOT PERFECT. He himself once left a credit card in the slot of an ATM and drove away, not even missing it for a day. That wasn't the end of our world, either!

Book Review: The Wednesday Letters

I stumbled upon this book while in Walmart browsing . It was late in the evening and I had no whining children with me. I had intended to read another few chapters of John and Kate G's book about their 8 children - twins and sextuplets - like I had last time I shopped at Walmart alone. Alas, that book was gone.

This book looked interesting and it was billed as a "New York Times bestseller," so the next time I was at the library, I picked it up. Perhaps it is just me. I seem to be having trouble getting into books over the last few months. I'm fine once I'm midway through, but the first half feels like plowing snow. I thought I could blame this on a heavy dose of multiple non-fiction titles which I have been trying to tackle all at once (they are all compelling, but I seem to pick them up and put them down and pick up another - at the moment I am concurrently reading one on depression, one on premenopause, and another on mothering, plus I have one on Omega-3 waiting in the wings). However, I found this novel followed the same pattern.

I thought the first half of the book felt a bit stiff and stilted. The characters didn't really jump to life for me. The conflict didn't tug me in. I read the first thirteen chapters in about six different sittings. However, once I got to chapter 14, I read the last half of the book in one sitting. I still believe the characters could have been developed more fully, so that the reader felt more of a connection and concern for them. I still think a more involved explanation of the characters and setting would have strengthened the first half of the book.

However, the best part of the book truly is in the second half. Once you reach that point, you begin to piece together more of the background story. You begin to enter into the really compelling part of this book - the lesson of the strength of love and the power of forgiveness.

I found myself wondering if I had what it takes to write a letter to my spouse once a week. I doubt my spouse would want me to write him a letter each week (he prefers face-to-face interaction). If I did, I certainly wouldn't send them - although it wouldn't be a stretch to think that I would keep the stash of them.

I know when my first son was born, I decided to keep a journal addressed to him, with the intent of sharing it with him when he was older or when I was no longer around. However, even though I enjoy writing, I didn't manage to keep up with the task. His journal is short and the two little boys don't even have any journals addressed to them. I'm afraid if I started one for my MS, it would be repetitive entries of "Today you are driving me insane. I don't think you can be quiet for one moment's time. I am really beginning to hate my name because you use it incessantly. I love you dearly, but deary, could you give me some space!"

Hopefully, my blog will serve those purposes that my journal couldn't. However, I doubt I will drop any big secrets or tales of family trauma here. Things like that would have to be reserved for private addresses and even then, I wouldn't know whether it would really be beneficial for my sons to read something like that later in life.

It would be interesting to hear whether any of my readers follow through with this sort of thing. Do you write a journal to your children or regular letters to your spouse? Do you reveal things that you might not share otherwise? Do you have a special place that you store these letters? Even more interesting, has anyone ever stumbled upon secret letters of this sort and gained a glimpse into someone else's life?

I do recall finding a scrap of paper in one of my mother's books one day when I was a pre-teen or teen. I remember reading it and feeling like I was violating her personal space, reading something she had not written with my eyes in mind. I'm quite certain she wrote with nobody's eyes in mind. She wrote to vent her frustrations.

This particular scrap outlined a day when my father was late getting home from the church office. She ended up feeding us kids (were there four or five of us at the time? I don't know?) and not even eating anything herself. She was feeling the weight of shouldering the intense mother role (something I can now relate to quite clearly). At the time, though, I think I realized for the first time that we were quite a handful and steering our boatload of children wasn't exactly a grand job.

Am I glad I stumbled upon that paper? You bet, because now I can look back on it and acknowledge that my own mother struggled with her mothering role as well. My own mother also wearied under the constant driving needs of small children. And, even better news, she weathered the storm. We all survived. Some of us even flourished. This was another thing I took away from Jason Wright's book: Without God in the boat, helping us weather the storms and manage the forgiveness, we might literally sink.

Good News to Share

Perhaps I am just in an overly critical funk this weekend, but once again, I'm not going to post those Easter thoughts. Instead, I'm going to ramble from my stream-0f-consciousness (at least I think I'm conscious - some days, who knows) around the Easter theme.

My boys LOVE holidays. One boy talks about one specific holiday throughout the whole year (if you know me, you'll know which boy I mean, and hey, you've got a fifty-fifty chance since one of the three can't talk yet). So, I have been trying to make a point this week of explaining the spiritual reason we celebrate Easter. Last Sunday, my MS loved holding, waving and then (in the car) tearing apart the palm branch he was given in church. We talked, ever so briefly, about Jesus dying on the cross (since we've had some emotions about dying lately).

Today, the church where my MS goes for Parent's Day Out held an Easter egg hunt. I had noticed the open invitation on the sign, so, I decided to bundle up the two little guys and give it a go (it looked like both rain and snow, so I wasn't sure how it would go). I'm sure they had fun. I survived and I was glad they had fun.

I suppose my brain works in certain ways because I was a pastor's kid. When I saw the jam-packed parking lot, my first thought was, "Man, this was a clever outreach event." It brings to mind, my friend Kyle and thoughts he once shared about visiting the Circus Museum in Wisconsin. The circus used to go out to share their incredible acts and impressive sights. They rallied people into their tents, moving to where the people were, not holed up in a museum. His point was that we, as Christians, have good news to share and we shouldn't keep this good news under wraps for quiet inspection in a museum. We, too, should go out to proclaim it.

I guess I left just a little bit sad in my soul. Yes, my children had fun. And, maybe, I'm the only one who saw it this way, but man what a wasted opportunity. We entered, they took names for door prizes. I ushered MS and YS out the door to the playground area where the 3-5s were allowed to look for eggs. After the egg hunt, we headed back to the sanctuary for games and the door prizes. Then, unexpectedly, we were all invited to stay for a hot dog lunch in the fellowship hall. I commend this church for offering nourishment and great entertainment to the public.

However, my soul ached just a little bit as well. I suppose, I expected to receive something with information about the church (even though I already know their information), some sort of small message about why they were opening their doors, some hint that there was good news to share and some greater pull towards a community of believers. During the hot dog lunch, I sat at a table with my two little boys and noticed the (sadly typical) division in the room. Regular attenders were all on one end of the room, packed around tables conversing animatedly with one another. Then there were the patches of non-attenders - isolated families, eating alone.

I will admit that I spent a great deal of time chasing the two little guys (remember, they are 1 and 3 and too heavy to hold the whole time), so perhaps I was a difficult target to approach. But, we were there for an hour and a half and I approached two or three people. One was wearing a Rockford sweatshirt, and I just had to ask if she was from Rockford (which is near where we used to live). She said "No," and quickly looked away (who knows, maybe it was a thrift store purchase and she only bought it because she liked the color). The only people who approached me were the pastor, his wife, and the PDO director.

I know I am more keenly aware of this subject because I have recently moved, but I do want to encourage others to reach out when newcomers enter their church doors. I already know the good news. I already have received the gift. But, so many others, enter with their families to search for Easter eggs, hoping that someone will give them more than an Easter egg and a hot dog lunch. I don't want to seem like I am slamming this church. I am not. I grew up in The Salvation Army. We were all about meeting the physical needs as an introduction to meeting the spiritual needs in others. I merely hope to encourage other believers to use their outreach events to effectively reach out. I found myself wishing they had instructed their regular attenders to seek out four or five newcomers to greet and strike up a conversation with. Perhaps they did, and I merely fell through the cracks (while chasing my whirling dervishes).

And, in that same spirit, I wanted to share a fabulous story of reconciliation. I love books with that theme. I crave these kinds of stories again and again. My soul needs to hear them. If you would like to read a fine story of reconciliation please read this. I hope that I may be more about sharing the good news than I have been. It is too important to forget! We all need more than an Easter egg and a hot dog for today; we need the miracle of Easter and His nourishment for today, tomorrow and eternity!