Reach Out January 22, 2009

Over the last few days I have had the gracious opportunity to lend my writing assistance to my Mother and two of her dear friends and sisters in Christ. They all attend the church where I grew up, Haleyville First United Methodist Church in Haleyville, Alabama.

The Pastor initiated a new program for Lent this year. He asked for 40 people to write a devotional. Just one per person. These devotionals are to be used in a Lenten Worship Devotional Booklet in service of the Lenten Season.

I have been blessed to be able to be the editor for these three devotionals–My Mother’s, her dear friend, Maryanna Foster and a very special lady whom I have always known, Mrs. Freda King Crumpton. I could start with how Mother knew Freda when she was a baby and how Freda babysat me when I was a baby but let’s just suffice it to say, we are all life time church family.

As a Christian Writer I read and wrtie devotionals and articles everyday. I read many other writer’s but it is rare to obtain stories from real Christians who spend their time serving and blessing others in many ways besides writing about it. Since they so graciously asked me to edit their peices I have been blessed by each story. I have asked each of them if it is okay for me to share their stories. They are excited about that.

In this form I will share each story in my blog. In another form these will all be submitted for publication.

My prayer is that you are as blessed as I have been by these three servants of God. I will post My Mother’s first. If you are blessed by this, email me and I will pass it on to them. They would love that.

Outreach

By Bonnie Posey

Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms. (1 Peter 4:10 NIV)

Being of a ‘certain age’ and a member of Haleyville First United Methodist Church most of my life, I have always been confident we were a church doing the Lord’s work. Several years ago a brash young preacher assigned to us took a very good deep look at us. In love and honesty he said, “You are the best church I have ever seen at taking care of yourselves, now you are going to reach out to others. This church is going to reach out next June to the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico. It will be a mission outreach.”

My initial response was, “I will plan the trip but I am not going out west in the summer, it will be too hot.” Famous last words. My husband, Merle, said “Sure, we can do that.” So away we went along with 32 other people from this church and two other congregations in our district. Each person seeking something different. Some just looking to sightsee the Indians or Monument Valley. But all were available to be used by God. I’ve learned, God is not looking for ability; He is looking for availability, willing vessels to be used by Him.

Personally, I became available to the call I had been hearing since I was a teen sitting in the balcony of this same church hearing missionaries sharing their experiences in far off lands. God has shown me the call to mission and outreach can be in a ‘not so far off land’. It can be in New Mexico, Eastern Kentucky, Cherokee, North Carolina, Wyoming, and Mississippi or right in your own back door. Possibly every Tuesday morning serving on the Helping Hand committee.

When I made myself available to be used by God for His purposes He used me to reach out to others. All of us have the potential to do great things for God with the gifts and talents He has so graciously given. God is looking for willing vessels with an open heart to be available for Him to work through.

“God doesn’t call the equipped, He equips the called.”

Dear God, You love all Your children. Teach me to use my time and gifts to serve others. In Jesus Holy Name, Amen.

www.angelaposeyarnold.com

Watch for the Answer December 10, 2008

Watch For the Answer
By Angela Posey-Arnold

“………Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out.” (Matthew 6:2-3 The Message)

Pray—just do it. How do you talk to Jesus? Someone asked me one day how I knew Jesus was real? I replied, “Because I just talked to Him 15 minutes ago.”

The person asking me the question did not understand because she did not know Jesus. It is hard to talk to someone who you don’t believe is there.

Prayer is a conversation with Him. Sometimes it is solemn and staid, other times it is just talking things over with Him. This last Saturday night when I crawled into bed to get warm I began a conversation with Jesus. Amidst the praise, thanks and petitions I talked about how much Grandmother loved the song, How Great Thou Art.

I said, “Remember how she loved to hear me play it on the piano, even when I was just learning to play? I think I will play it tomorrow night at Church for the offertory. It is such a pretty song and the words are so powerful. Too bad no body sings when I play the offertory. That is okay I suppose, most people know the words, don’t they?”

I fell asleep before I finished completely. I used to feel really bad when I would fall asleep praying. Then one day a still small voice said, “it is okay Angela. What better way to fall asleep?”
Arising early on a cool fall Sabbath morning I stretched and thanked Him for the night’s sleep. I love Sundays. It is my favorite day and I look forward to the Sabbath Day all week.

“Momma and Daddy are coming, I said to my husband. “So we need to be at Church about ten minutes early to introduce them to folks.”

We arrived to Church at the same time my parents did. It is a rare occasion to have my parents with me at church so I was excited to introduce them to my sisters, brothers, pastor and church family whom I have grown to love over the last year while serving as the pianist.

I quickly settled them into a seat with my husband and friends and scurried off to pre-service choir practice. Our minister of music was absent. He always picks the hymns and gives them to me and the organist on a sticky note. In his place one of the deacons had picked the songs, he handed me a piece of paper with the hymns on it. I was talking to someone and did not even look at the hymns. I put the paper on the piano bench as I passed by, still talking to a friend.

As service begins I walk in first and the choir follows me. The pastor is in the pulpit reading the annoucements when we come in. I sat down at the piano and looked at the sticky note. For the greeting song he had picked Allelujah, a nice greeting chorus. The first hymn he picked was page number 10—How Great Thou Art. Okay let me say that again, the deacon picked the song, How Great Thou Art.

My heart lifted, my soul smiled, I smiled. Jesus just affirmed He heard my prayer. The little things like this that He does is where the peace that passeth all understanding comes from. I knew He enjoyed our conversation the night before. Standing up and shouting for joy is what I wanted to do—but it is hard to play the piano and do that.

We sang all four choruses, each line fostering increasing crescendos of elation and thrill for me. The voices singing in enhanced harmony and accord. What beauty filled me to overflowing. I have never played the song like that before. When I finished, I thought, ‘how did I do that?’ I knew, I didn’t.

I needed the song, the words, the encouagement, the comfort. The congregation needed it too. We all did. And Grandmother, well I don’t know how, but somehow she did too. And Jesus provided the soothing confirmation of hearing my prayer and loving me.

HOW GREAT THOU ART
O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: “My God, how great Thou art!”

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

words & music by Carl G. Boberg and R.J. Hughes

Maybe you needed it too.

Just do it. Just talk to Him. He hears and answers the prayers of His children. Quietly and unobtrusively, He works behind the scenes and helps you out. He really does.

Lord, Thank You. I Love You. In Jesus Name. Amen

©Angela Posey-Arnold 2008

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