In The Still November 19, 2008

 In The Still

 

By Angela Posey-Arnold

 

‘3:30 A.M.? Wait, let me find my glasses and make sure the time is right‘, I thought to myself.

 

 ‘Yep, 3:30 A.M. Well, why am I wide awake then? Oh yeah, we set our clocks back last night. My body thinks it is 4:30. Good morning, Lord Jesus. Thank You for a good night’s rest and no bad dreams. Today is the Sabbath, the Blessed Sabbath Day.’

 

 I began going about my regular morning routine. Silently rehearsing the song our choir prepared for worship in just a few hours. The stillness of the morning before the dawn is a perfect time for prayer and devotion.  I quickly made a pot of coffee.

 

Radar, my Chihuahua, woke when he heard me. Patient he held his little bladder while I unlocked the front door. I turned on the porch light and let him outside in the crisp cool autumn air. Not far behind I coaxed my 14 year old Pug who reluctantly emerged from his warm bed.

 

Coffee made, dogs in, my husband sleepily walked in the den where I’m settled in my recliner.

 

“Are you okay? Are you cold? Want me to light a fire?” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

“I’m fine, Not a lot of pain this morning, I just woke up and don’t feel sleepy anymore. I lit the fire. I’m fine.”

 

“Okay.” he sleepily kissed the air in my direction and shuffled back to bed.

 

For a few minutes I sat in my recliner. Just still. Listening to the sounds of the morning. The cats outside started moving around as our big dog barked at something in the pasture. This was followed by a prolonged rhapsody from the donkey in the field next to ours. Joy filled my heart.

 

Then I remembered the problems and concerns of life. My heart sank. They began naming themselves one by one, again. Still there, ever present but so nice to escape and forget them for a little while. I began to talk to Jesus again to ask for strength and help to adorn God’s armor.

 

I’ve read how others pray and talk to the Lord. I remembered how my Grandmother prayed and taught me how. But mostly I talk to Jesus like he is my best friend. He is my best friend. He says I can talk to Him anytime and I do. I know He hears me, too. How do I know? Because He answers prayers. He has proved it to me time after time.

 

Most of the time I do all the talking, but not this morning. This crisp cool autumn morning I listened more than I talked. How He communicates with His own is determined by the personal relationship we have with Him. The conversations you have with Jesus are just that, between you and Him.

 

God speaks to us through His Word, through other people and in our hearts. He speaks to us in that still small voice, but sometimes the voice is so clear inside my heart I know without a doubt it is Him. I am one of His sheep. God’s children understand. Sheep know the voice of The Shepherd.

 

God tells us in His Word, “Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth. (Psalm 46:10 KJV)

 

In the quiet and peacefulness of a Sabbath morning I was still. I grasped the Grace, and held on to His love.

 

Before the dawn I could only hear the clock pendulum and the fire crackling and popping in the fire place. Praise and thanksgiving in my heart I relaxed focusing all my attention on being still.

 

“My heart is so heavy Lord. I am weary of the problems of our country….” I don’t think I said the words out loud.

 

‘Read My Word.’  In my spirit I heard Him, “Get into My Word, you have a hunger for it, eat.”

 

“Yes, Lord. Your Word is the answer. I will do that.”

 

“Now.”

 

“Oh? Now? Okay.” He wasn’t kidding.

 

I looked around my recliner for my Bible and it wasn’t near. I woke the dogs who were asleep in the recliner with me. Then unwrapped the quilt I had cocooned myself in. Quiet, so not to wake my husband, I quickly got my Bible off the kitchen table.

 

I situated myself into my comfy place again and I opened the Living Word of God. I did not know where to start nor did I have a specific book, chapter or verse in mind. I opened to Zechariah and my eyes fell to Chapter 14:1 “Behold, the day of the Lord cometh. And thy spoil shall be divided in the midst of thee” (Zechariah 14:1 KJV)

 

I felt comforted by the first part but the second line reminded me of the money we lost in the stock market meltdown. Somebody divided our spoil alright. I am just not sure who. No matter who, it is gone. What was to be our retirement disappeared into thin air. It was nice to know we had it if an emergency arose, but it is gone. Poof. Gone.  

 

Closing my Bible I pondered the Scripture for a few minutes. Behold, the DAY OF THE LORD cometh. The spoil won’t matter then.

 

Opening His Word again this time to the New Testament the first words I read were, “Be ye therefore ready also; for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not.”(Luke 12:40 KJV)

 

I looked out the big window toward the east. The sun was rising. The colors of the sky were incredible. Only a sky God could paint. Comforted and awe inspired I watched the sun come up and imagined what it will be like when the Eastern Sky opens and Jesus we see. I was still and I know He is God. The Sovereign God creator of all the earth and He cares about me. Amazing Grace.

 

Imagine the day, the hour when He comes. The old hymn came to my mind, “What a day that will be, when my Jesus I shall see. When I look upon His face, the One Who saved me by His Grace. And forever I will be with the One Who died for me. What a Day glorious day that will be. When He takes me by the hand, and leads me to the Promised Land, What a Day, Glorious Day that will be.”

 

Jesus is coming to get His church and I am graciously comforted. Among all the uncertainty and chaos of Wall Street, Main Street and Pennsylvania Avenue as Christians we can be comforted by the truth.  Jesus is coming again. He is coming.

 

We must be about the Father’s business.

 

Another hymn writer penned these word, “Until then, my heart will go on singing, until then with joy I’ll carry on, Until the day my eyes behold that city, Until the day, God calls me home.” 

 

He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. (Revelation 22:20 KJV)

 

Every person, every human will have a choice to accept Jesus or reject Him. My prayer for you my friend is you believe and accept Jesus as your Savior. Ask Him to come and live in your heart. You will be comforted.

 

No man knows the day or the hour. Not even the angels in heaven know. What we do know is Jesus IS coming. How do I know? He reminded me November 1st, 2008 around 4:00 A.M.

 

 ©Angela Posey-Arnold 2008

 

Saying Grace November 12, 2008

This was sent to me by email–I couldn’t say

it better than this.

Saying Grace In A Restaurant 

     Last week, I took my children to a

restaurant. 

My six-year-old son asked if he could say

grace. 

As we bowed our heads he said, ‘God is

good, God is great. Thank you for the food ,

and I would even thank you more if Mom

gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty

and justice for all! Amen!’ 

Along with the laughter from the other

customers nearby, I heard a woman remark,

‘That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids

today don’t even know how to pray. Asking

God for ice cream! Why, I never!’ 

Hearing this, my son burst into tears and

asked me, ‘Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at

me?’ 

As I held him and assured him that he had

done a terrific job, and God was certainly

not mad at him, an elderly gentleman

approached the table. He winked at my son

and said, ‘I happen to know that God thought

that was a great prayer.’ 

‘Really?’ my son asked. 

‘Cross my heart,’ the man replied. 

Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added

(indicating the woman whose remark had

started this whole thing), ‘Too bad she never

asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is

good for the soul sometimes.’ 

Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the

end of the meal. My son stared at his for a

moment, and then did something I will

remember the rest of my life. 

He picked up his sundae and, without a

word, walked over and placed it in front of

the woman. With a big smile he told her,

‘Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for

the soul sometimes; and my soul is good

already.’ 

Honey, I Did The Laundry November 11, 2008

 

“Honey, I Did the Laundry”

By Angela Posey-Arnold

Coming in from Church Choir practice tired with no voice left to speak actual words, Bear, my husband, met me at the front door. All smiles he said, “Guess what I did?”

I shrugged my shoulders gesturing, “I don’t know but I have a feeling you are going to tell me and it might not be as pretty as that smile you are wearing.”

“I washed the dishes and put them up. I washed three loads of laundry. And I mopped the floor.” He exclaimed with such pride I had to smile. I hugged him and thanked him.

“You are a good man, Bear. You are so good to me.” I said as I plopped down and took my shoes off.

Contented and assured that all was right in our little corner of the world; I went to sleep before my head hit the pillow.

Fired up from his evening of ‘honey do’ bliss he had some things on his mind before he went to sleep.

“Angie, are you asleep? Angie?” He gently said in the voice he calls a whisper. Bear don’t really have a whisper, so I heard him.

“No, I am awake, now. What is it?” I whispered.

“You need to put Clorox on the grocery list. Good night my love, now you go to sleep and get some rest.” He said.

Funny I didn’t feel sleepy anymore. I recalled buying a big bottle of Clorox recently. Panic flushed over me as I thought of all the clothes in the dirty laundry pile. Monday is my usual laundry day so everything we had worn for the last 6 days was in the pile. I got up out of bed and headed for the laundry room.

I opened the door to a usually very neat and tidy room. “OH MY GOODNESS!! What happened in here?”  

I have never really seen anything like it. It took me a few moments to evaluate the situation. It appeared much like an earthquake had occurred. Ah but nay, it was only the remaining debris from a ‘bull in the china shop’ situation. Or better yet, the ‘Bear in the laundry room’.

 His clothes hanging sideways on hangers my clothes folded in some odd fashion I have never seen before. My eyes focused quickly to my new, red fall sweater. There it was hanging on a wire hanger. Yes, it had been dried. Yes, my dog can wear it now.

Why he moved everything in the room, I have no idea. If only the dogs could talk and tell me what had happened in the laundry room. The washer was still on the spin cycle. The dryer running on the last fluff cycle, I was afraid to look in either one.

I made sure the dogs were okay. Both accounted for. The cats all outside and accounted for.

“Lord Jesus, help me not to scream. Help me to be gracious and loving. Help me not to say ugly things to my mother-in-law about the way she never taught him to do laundry. Give me strength Lord and help me to remember the proud smile on Bear’s face when he told me all he had done to help. Amen.” 

I decided if I wanted to sleep, I might should go ahead and take a quick peek in the washer. I carefully opened the lid and found old towels. Whew. What a blessing. Just old towels. With the strength of Solomon I opened the dryer. All seemed fine. All white things, socks, my favorite bra, and his white tee shirts.

 On top of the dryer I saw this huge pile of what appeared to be our nice set of lilac sheets. Wrinkled and crumpled but no real damage done I began folding them and lo and behold I found a pair of blue jeans still wet inside the wad of sheets.

With a deep breath and another small prayer I thanked Jesus the damage seemed minimal. “I’ll straighten all this out tomorrow.”

 With the determination of Scarlet O’Hara I thought ‘after all tomorrow is another day’.  I went to bed thankful for my Bear who did all this work, however scattered it appeared he did it because he loves me. Dreams were sweet.

With the breaking of dawn I woke up made coffee and thanked God for another day. An incredible sunrise slowly painted across the eastern sky as I retrieved a pair of my socks from the dryer. I put one on and my toe went through the end of the sock. The sock disintegrated before my eyes.

 With a little closer inspection I soon found out why we needed more Clorox.  I think he used the entire bottle of Clorox on the white clothes. Not really sure if he used water or not in that load. I got all the white clothes out of the dryer and discovered all the elastic in my bra had disappeared.

By the time Bear woke up I had gathered all the over bleached articles and thrown them away.

“Lord, help me to be gracious. I need new underwear and we both need new socks anyway.”

“Did you see all the laundry I did?” He said sipping his coffee.  Such a proud look on his face.

“I sure did. Ttttthhhaaannk you.” Whew I got it out. I even got it out with a smile. And I meant it. It didn’t matter about the clothes. What mattered was why he did it. He did it to make me happy. And it did. I lost a few clothes in the process but I gained more love, understanding and grace for the man I have shared my life with for twenty years.

“You’re welcome. I washed the dishes too you know?” He smiled, so oblivious to the disaster.

As I sat there eating some cereal and picking the dried oatmeal from the outside of the bowl, I said, “I know it, thank you. You are a good husband. Now, what are your plans for today? If you want to go to the hunting land you can, it is okay with me.”

“I believe I will. Thanks sweetheart.” He said as he donned his camo.

“You are so welcome, Bear. Have fun in the woods.”

I just hope the deer are not doing their laundry today.

Oh, and guess what he used to mop the floors? WD40. Yes, He read somewhere where WD40 would clean and preserve wood floors and make them shine, yet not be slick. He was right. It worked. They are so shiny and pretty.

So blessed. I am so blessed. We still have to have a talk about Clorox but other than that, we survived Bear doing laundry.

©2008 Bear’s Wife/www.angelaposeyarnold.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                               

Collections Inc November 1, 2008

Not my Bear--My Bear Still Picks Up Rocks For Me

Rocks of Ages

By Angela Posey-Arnold

Growing up I collected all sorts of things but my favorite thing to collect was rocks. Loved those rocks. At the age of eight I got a rock polisher so I could polish my collection. If I close my eyes I can still hear the sound of the polisher going round and round all night. By morning I had perfectly polished rocks.

The collection of rocks became rather large so in an off season for kool-aid sales, I began to paint the rocks. Employing my friend, Stacey, to assist me, we painted various types of rocks and actually sold them to two ladies. Those ladies happened to be our Mothers but hey, they had money and they liked our rocks.

A prerequisite for dating me during my late twenties was the ability to carry and load large rocks. When I prayed for my future husband to come along and sweep me off my feet I always added, “And Lord please, let him be strong”.

The Lord hears and answers prayers like that. Not long after my prayer, I started dating “Bear”. His football coach had given him the nickname, “Dancing Bear”. If we were Indian by heritage I would have changed it to “Bear Picks Up Big Rocks”. On one journey alone he heaved a large pickup load of sandstone from a nearby creek. Of course, we were newlyweds and he was still showing off his muscle.

I just love different shaped rocks. On trips I will see one that is just fascinating and exclaim, “Oh Bear look at that rock, how pretty the colors are.”

“Do you want it?” He will say.

“Oh yes, will you get it?”

“Of course I will, beautiful.”

 We found one while visiting West Virginia in the shape of the State of Alabama. It came home from West Virginia with us to the state of Alabama.

Being married now for twenty years we have a very nice collection of rocks. He will still get the rocks, but I feel bad asking him now. I don’t want him to hurt his back or anything. But, sometimes I see one I just have to have. I’ll shyly say, “Bear, you hunka, look at that rock over there. Did you see it?”

“No, sweetheart I did not see it, now come on let’s go”

“But..but..but.. it looks like Texas…….”

“Angie, do you want that rock? I mean do you really have to have THAT particular rock?”

“Well, no I don’t HAVE to HAVE it. But, did you see it?”

“Ok, I will get the rock.”

“No, no, I don’t want you to. Just forget it. I am afraid you’ll hurt yourself. You are 48 years old now.” I remind him ever so sweetly.

“No, no. It is fine baby.  I can get the rock. What, you don’t think I can get that rock? Well I can. I’m getting the rock”.

“Okay, thank you sweetie pea”. I smile as he loads it into the truck for the ride back to Alabama from Tennessee.

“You’re welcome. It is not as heavy as it looks”. He says. Then I usually hear something that sounds like, “whew.”  

Our first home we lived in for eleven years. Our big rock collection has taken on many forms over the years. It has been a rock wall, a water feature, a sidewalk and patio. Every time Bear moves the rocks he is a little older and each time he says, “This is absolutely the last time I am moving these rocks.”  If I recall correctly he has moved them five or six times since then and said the same thing every time.

Bear recently built himself a new gunsmithing shop behind our log home. I looked out the window of my office to see him moving my rocks.

“Bear, what are you doing moving those rocks?”

“I just thought I would make a walkway.” He said as he dropped the big rock he was moving with a thud.

“I thought you weren’t going to move them again.”

“I’m not. This is killing my back. I have been moving these for twenty years. This is absolutely the last time I am moving these rocks!”

 “Hey, it was your idea.”

J