Janet Rico Everett

Let's Tal

Now, What Was So Bad About Today?

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I got scammed this weekend. I’ve been dying for a dog. A warm, big, cuddly ball of fur that I can wrap my arms around. You see, my mom died at the beginning of February. And then our little ball of fur of 15 years had the audacity to die two weeks after my mom. So I found a group that advocated “rehoming” our breed of interest, and found a perfect match. The hubs and I wanted to meet the sweet creature and see if she could bring back a ball before we forked over a hefty chunk-of-money. So we headed out crisply at dawn for Memphis…a 4.5 hour drive for us. Without going into the sad details, let me just say that there was no dog to meet.

Furious and betrayed but breathing in barbeque, we drowned our sorrows at Center Street Barbeque. Then we looked around at the cloudless sky, felt a warm breeze, and visited Lichterman Nature Center. And before we knew it, we were laughing at geese, feeding fish, and phoning kinfolks for dinner in Pontotoc.

Y’all, too many days, we allow circumstances to govern how our day will go instead of taking control of it and changing the narrative. How many days have we wasted by labeling them “bad” without looking beyond our moments?

Our Heavenly Father can take any experience we have and use it for our benefit when we invite Him to the party. He can redirect the focus, regroup the feelings, and redeem the function of whatever happened. And before you know it, you had a good day, after all.

Trusting In God’s Providence

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Were you taught that if you want something, you had to work for it? Me, too! If we want a better salary, then we get a degree and qualify for a better job. If we want to take our family on vacation, we work overtime, do side jobs, or take on a second job to pay for it.

But what about providing for the unknown: the tornadoes that destroy your home, the wreck that you didn’t cause, the divorce that you didn’t ask for, or the diagnosis you aren’t prepared for? In your head, you understand that as God’s beloved child, He can help you, but do you believe this in your heart that He will? Are you afraid that God won’t provide for your needs unless you earn His providence?

“Providence” is a beautiful word for God’s business of caring for us. It refers to His maintenance of our life when calamity strikes, and we are left wondering what we will do.

God’s Providence is mostly mentioned by the first recognized pilgrims who journeyed from England and Holland to find a land where they could worship God freely without the fear of retribution. They mentioned God’s providence sustaining them, for without it, they had no way to sustain themselves in a wilderness peopled by natives who were at times benevolent and at times violent. Then as now, God worked to provide through people for tangible needs and by His Holy Spirit in an emotional crisis.

God’s providence comes in the form of community. You and I are part of His Body, the universal church, but we are also part of the community where we live. He has placed us in the exact area where we are to give and receive comfort from each other.

Watch what happens when a tornado’s forceful winds destroy homes and widens the horizon. Neighbors find chainsaws to get tree limbs and stumps out of the homeowner’s way, and the American Red Cross brings food, blankets, and people who will listen, or provide solace in a variety of ways.

Groups such as Eight Days of Hope alert Believers over the radio of a town devastated by fire, flood, or hurricane and the need for construction and feeding teams. God provides his care through the efforts of groups such as these.

God’s providence also comes in the form of individuals. Individual people volunteer their time because they have been so served and want to give back such as CARTI volunteers. These sweet souls come every Tuesday to assist cancer patients and their families by pushing wheelchairs, bringing in donuts for breakfast, covering patients with blankets whilst they take their chemotherapy, giving them a package of crackers and soft drink as a snack after it’s over, and always ready to give warm hugs.

People whose mission of choice is the local animal shelter also come ready to assist vets or the shelter director with food, clean litter boxes, or play with the dogs to keep them socialized. Because these individuals are drawn to serve by the compassion that lives in their hearts, God’s love is transmitted to others in need.

God’s providence comes in the form of His Holy Spirit. Some calamities are not obvious. The wounds cannot be deduced with any of the five senses, but they are real nonetheless. It is for these dark nights of the soul that our God gives us His Holy Spirit to comfort the hurt, to teach us wisdom, and ultimately give us healing.

To expect a believer to never experience disaster, tangible or intangible, is not a logical expectation. For if we cannot show a lost and dying world how strong He makes us because of His Spirit living inside us, how can we expect the world to want what we have?

God never, ever states that we will escape the lot that comes to all of the human race. What He promises, instead, is that we will never be alone (Hebrews 13:5). God’s Holy Spirit meets us where we are and provides what we need where no one else can reach.

Although car insurance is necessary in case of a wreck, an insurance settlement cannot temper the anxiety of getting into the driver’s seat again. No prenuptial agreement can provide the healing for a broken heart. Not even a brand new home can ward off the fear that rises at the sound of heavy thunder.

It’s only God’s love fleshed out in His body of believers and His Holy Spirit that provides a solid foundation of strength. It is there for the taking, dear sister. Take hold of God’s providence in all of the ways He provides it and let Him provide the peace that truly passes all understanding.

Written from my heart,

Janet

Making Room to Grow

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What is more beautiful in spring than a spread of colorful blossoms to dispel the gloom of winter?  Nothing I can think of. But to have that, fall is the time of year for planting spring bulbs–whilst freezing my butt off! I went to the local Master Gardeners bulb sale and bought a host of bluebells, hyacinths, daffodils, and grape muscari. Then I made a made a plan of where to plant them based upon how tall they would be. I pulled all my shovels, trowels, rakes, and began working in the dirt dreaming of how gorgeous they would be in the spring.

And once again, it happened. My lovely dreams of pretty flowers were interrupted. You see, the Lord tends to speak to me when I am planting flowers.

Planting bulbs is not nearly as hard as planting spring perennials. I use my bulb planter to measure how deeply to plant the bulb and pull out a plug of soil before dropping in the bulb, making sure that it sits right side up. Then I drop the dirt over the bulb.

However, my one problem with planting is dealing with tree roots. Tree roots run in a maze of highways deep in the ground and steal the room, water, and nutrients from my new plants leaving me with wimpy stems and wilted leaves. To deal with them, I use sharp hand cutters, reach into the hole, and cut out the roots getting in the way.

And that’s when God begins to speak to me.

It turns out that the Lord has the same kind of problem with me. Whenever He intends to plant something new in my mind such as new dreams, new adventures, new opportunities, new relationships He wants me to make, or new places to go, He has a mess on His hands.

My mind is filled with a web of roots made up of activities I must get to, really bad self-talk, a paralyzing fear of failure along with a lack of confidence, a drive to rebel, and a desire to avenge those who have hurt me in the past. Growing something new in me becomes difficult because I hang on to these rotten roots. Plus, they become the barriers to my growth as a Christ-follower.

Just like tree roots I have to cut out in order for my bulbs to grow, I must give the Lord access to my heart so He can cut out the roots of busy-ness, bitterness, fear, rebellion or vengeance from my heart. Then He has the room to plant the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control (Galatians 5: 22-23) .

As I know the types of flowers to plant for Arkansas’s climate, the amount of sun they get, and the kind of soil they thrive in best, God knows the plans that He has for me. His thoughts, ideas, projects, and action plans are for my good, to prosper me, not to harm me, and will give me a hope and a future (II Chronicles 7:14). Letting go of all that stands in His way gives way to my growth.

Do you have opportunities where God speaks to you? I certainly don’t mean audible speech, but in your mind. What are you usually doing when He picks His time to speak? Are you driving? Washing dishes? Mopping or vacuuming the floors? What is he teaching you about Himself? Tell me about it sometime soon.

Written from my heart,

Janet

A Rocker’s Tale

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It was just an old chair that rocked easily. I saw it at the Jackson House, a place where people send their unused or unnecessary furniture. It was beautiful with its nicks and scars–character marks, I called them.  I told Daddy that was what I wanted for my 16th birthday. I remember Daddy asking me, “Baby, don’t you want a new chair like that?”  No, I wanted this one.  I had a feeling that this chair could tell me a story if I listened hard enough

That cold Saturday afternoon in November, I brought home a bentwood rocker that Daddy paid $35 for at a consignment store. It sat in my bedroom right beside my stereo/record player where I played my Bay City Roller albums over and over again.  I rocked to the beat of their music as I dreamed of meeting them one day.

When my first boyfriend broke up with me, my rocker hugged me and rocked me while my broken heart wept, and I asked myself why he didn’t care for me anymore; what did I do to cause it, and how will I keep from making that mistake again.  Trying to gain some comfort, I put on my earphones and let the sounds of Barry Manilow’s ballads soothe my aching head and swollen eyes.

Running into my bedroom, my escape, my safe space, I fled from my father’s rage over inconsequential issues and jealousy towards my mother. I pulled my old quilt over me and rocked as if I were able to make the rocker move while it gradually felt warm and safe wrapped up, and I quickly fell asleep, so strung out with the tension of living inside  our house.

Loading it into Daddy’s truck, we hauled it to Ouachita that last summer school so that I could take courses that were not being offered in the last two semesters.  That summer, I was determined to do without an air conditioner, so each night, after I took a bath and washed my sweaty hair, I sat in the rocker in front of the box fan stuck in the window of Ouachita Apartments on the 2nd floor and attempted to dry my hair without heat.  Later that month, Phillip drove through Arkadelphia on the way to Mt. Ida and stopped off to have dinner and spend the night.  I took a picture of him sitting in the rocker cooling his pizza with the fan.

I didn’t want to fall for him; I did not want to fall for him. He was my friend and a good friend; okay, so he was my handsome, sexy, good friend…and that’s all he would ever be. Once more, my rocker held me during the prickly, steamy, Arkansas July evenings when I watched couples from my second-floor window run, squealing and laughing, carrying lawn chairs going to Lake Degray.  By then, when I had finished homework, I discovered that I could read a Harlequin romance in an hour and a half, so three books became my entertainment for the weekend.

Now that I was a working woman, I took my rocker to my first apartment: a 1940s brownstone with pine ceiling, pine walls, and pine floors, and 8-feet tall windows for plenty of light.  The first month was so lonely, so I was determined to call all the people I knew whose phone number was written in my address book.  The more I talked, the more excited I became, and the faster I would rock. At the end of the month, though, that $400 telephone bill caused me to stop rocking, and I chose not to repeat that little kerfuffle.

This…man with whom I just went out for the third time is sitting in my rocker!  Aaaaaand he’s about to break up with me. Great! Story of my life. Wait, what? Oh, he just wants to date casually since he just got out of a serious relationship. Well, I understand completely, and I…I feel the same way.  Now, how do I get him out of my chair?

(Casual, my foot.)  I don’t care where we put the rocker in our new apartment, I’m not giving it up.  He might be my husband, and he might be 10 years my senior, but I’m not a child, and I’m not giving up my rocker.  I always thought we were never supposed to go to bed angry.  Maybe I’ll rock awhile and pray…for him to not think he knows everything just because he’s older.  Maybe I’ll pray for me to have more patience, too.

Not again…Oh, Father God, not again.  My hips are sore from fertility shots. We did everything right this time!  All the pieces to the puzzle were poised to fit together. The only place I can sit where my hips will not rub against the outside is my rocker.  My Bible is open to Jeremiah 29, and I am seeking God with all. my. heart. to give me some answers, some direction, some hope, something.

Someone doesn’t want to go to sleep yet, but he’s soooo sleepy, and his little blue eyes roll back in the sockets so easily could his body give up the fight, but not my wee ginger boy! No? Well, let me introduce you to Mama’s rocker; Mama has rocked many miles for many reasons in this sweet rocker. Can you feel the smooth rocking motion, my little love?

“Sweetheart, all this furniture will never fit inside this house.  We have to sell some.”

“I suppose we have no room for the rocker, do we?

“Honestly, no. Besides, don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

I’ve just said goodbye to my baby’s clothes; must I say goodbye to my rocking chair, too?  Only if the need for the chair is greater than my need for its presence.  Oh, someone is interested in the rocker, and she’s not quibbling about the price? That’s different! This is the one, isn’t it, Father?  A little one needs rocking, and she has no rocker.

My dear little bentwood, you were the dearest thing to me. You hugged me and held me and then held my baby.  No more babies are here for you, little chair. But a new mother needs you, so…off you go.

Just on The Other Side of Summer

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It’s 0612, and I am just beginning to see sunrise peek over the horizon. I dreaded this summer, for I knew that I would feel like i was existing in a pressure cooker.

Our son, the child of so many prayers, went to Army Basic Combat Training at the tender age of 17 between his junior and senior years. 10 weeks, and 800 miles, y’all

My precious 90-year-old mother is no longer able to live independently at the assisted living where she had lived 5 years, so I had to move her out and find a nursing home near me. Did I mention that she struggles with hoarding? Yeah….

Her home in Hot Springs was attacked by an R.O.U.S. (rodent of unusual size, for all those non-Princess Bride fans). My Dearest Keith repaired the area 3 times. And we started the cleanout process to sell it.

Attempting to jump on the real estate gravy train, we continued to renovate our very first house in order to sell it. We finished 2 bedrooms with new paint and flooring and are looking forward to working on the bathrooms.
All of this has been so rewarding.

What did I learn? Trust and obedience are necessary to weather change. God reminded me that He would carry me through the deep, and he would walk me through the pain, bur i just didn’t want to. Now I’m on the other side. How did that happen?

He reminded me that he would do that for me every time, but I need to quit taking the easy way out, the path of least resistance. I won’t experience Him in the easy streets. I experience Him in the jungle, in the fear of the unknown, and He takes me there so that He can show me that He is a god who is able! And i will be a witness of His watchcare.

Live in the Now

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Do you often beat yourself up for mistakes?  Yeah, I’m guilty as charged.  I don’t fret so much about the mistakes I made growing up or the ones I made in university, but the ones I made as a parent when Ian was younger.  The evil one knows how to get to me.  He knows the buttons to push.  He knows how to punch me in the solar plexus of my feelings.

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For example, at one of our yard sales, I gave away some of Ian’s baby clothes. Aaaaand had a mini-meltdown along with it. Letting go of those sweet rompers, overalls, onesies, and shirts made me long to gather my little son in my arms, hug and kiss him as long as I wanted.  And it brought up all the regrets that I had stored in my brain.  All the times I had a cutting remark. All the times that I just wanted to pee alone, and I locked the door not letting him come in.  The memories of his cries haunt me.

Back then, when I was busy bathing, feeding, diapering, dressing, and rocking, I wasn’t thinking that the days were fleeting; I was just thinking of how tired I was.  How great it would be when he was potty-trained.  How I couldn’t wait until he could go to sleep by himself.  How much relief it would be when he could have friends of his own so I could just be Mama.

Alas, the days of cuddling are gone. He’s 17 now, and I’m doing good if I get a “hello” or a smile. Now, there are days that I would give anything if he would let me hold him again.  And just like that, I let the evil one win again…

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What will it take to be satisfied with what’s right in front of us in the here and now? We aren’t familiar with the feeling of contentment.  Either we look toward the past for the “good ole days” or we look to the future for life to get better.  But we rarely care to live in the here and now.

Discontentment is not a modern idea.  King Solomon’s personal thoughts in Ecclesiastes are the musings of an old man wishing he had been more content:

                                       “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart,                                                                                                         for it is now that God favors what you do.                                                                                                                Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil.                                                                                                                     Enjoy life with your wife whom you love,                                                                                                            all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun–                                                                                                                         all your meaningless days.                                                                                                                                        For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun.                                                                                                 Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might,                                                                                                                             for in the grave, where you are going,                                                                                                                  there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.”                                 (Ecclesiastes 9: 7-10 NIV)

Whether we are wise, foolish, titled, serving, rich or poor,  Solomon concludes that we all have a future 100% mortality rate.  Therefore, he implores us to follow God’s commandments and be content with what we have by enjoying life in the present. 

Maybe he seems depressed because of so much regret, but lean into the real meat of these verses:   enjoy the here and now.  If you look for the future to fix your discontent, you will miss the joy you have right in front of you.

So, where are you now?

Are you unmarried, newly married, or without children?  Then do what you can only do when you don’t have children.  If you like to help out, then take a weekend and volunteer relief efforts somewhere that needs your skillset.  Are you thinking about having kids? Offer to babysit or rock someone else’s child–it will help you know if you’re ready to be a parent or help your birth control efforts.  If you’re a homebody, then stay up late watching old movies or gather a bunch of friends and play board games.  If you have a significant other, then take ballroom dancing lessons as a couple.  I knew this couple in college who used to dress up, go to McDonald’s for a date and then dance at the Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs where a piano, saxophone, and drums created beautifully romantic music for dancing, and it was free!  Talk about a cheap date!

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Surrounded by littles?  Blow up a balloon and try not to let it hit the ground. Build a fort out of your couch cushions, blankets, and dining chairs.  Go outside and catch lightning bugs.  One night when Ian was about 4 years old, Keith built a fire outside burning debris made up of fallen branches. Ian went to the back of the house, loaded up three lawnchairs on his red wagon, hauled them to the front, and set them up around the fire.  Then he asked me if I would get him a blanket, so I did.  Next, he asked me if we could have marshmallows, so Keith found three pieces of wire and we roasted marshmallows as the sun began to set.  Keith asked me quietly out from the side of his mouth, “What are we doing?”  I said, “We’re making memories.”

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Got ‘tweens who have forgotten what it’s like being a kid or teenagers who can’t wait to grow up or think they are already grown?   First, take away all of the technology–you included.  Next, put aside the sleep schedule, the PTA meetings, the (gasp!) Wednesday night church.  Forgive the bad grade and the chores undone (they will still be there tomorrow).  And then….discover the majesty of meteor showers and waterfalls.  Revel in the sound of ticklish laughter and the squeal from cold water sprinklers on the lawn.  Glory in the scents of singed chocolate chip cookies made by amateur chefs.   Laugh at each other eating s’mores with marshmallow chins.  Taste the crunchy eggs at breakfast while camping.  Feel the simultaneous fear and joy of watching your baby conquer a ropes course.

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Finally, don’t forget to archive.  Keep your phone charged or give everyone a throwaway camera and let them take pictures.  Write in a journal.  Press postcards, flowers, concert tickets, yard sale price tags.  Trace little hands and fingers and even big hands and big fingers.  These are the things that contentment is made of.

It’s sobering, isn’t it?

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Live your life with joy now, whatever now is for you.  For all of us who know Jesus Christ as our personal Savior and Lord, this life is just the beginning, but we don’t have to wait to have joy in Heaven.  We can choose to have joy with our loved ones now.   For some, your now might be so difficult you can’t imagine enjoying anything in this life.  Pray for God to give you joy where you are and show you moments to enjoy your family right now.

I remember telling Keith, “I wish that we could (fill in the blank).”  He would say, “Honey, you’re wishing your life away.”  He was right.  I didn’t realize that I needed contentment, not another “rush” of excitement.   Thirty years later, it’s too late to savor some of that time, but I pray that I can create a contented now.   It’s not too late for many of you, dearest moms. Learn to love the life you live now so that you can learn contentment.

 

Drifted Away

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Have you ever swum in a lake or in an ocean and gotten disoriented so that you drift farther from shore than you intended to swim?  You have a moment of panic. Then you spot the shore and swim parallel to the beach and follow the breaking waves back at an angle, and they lead you back to shore. 

The same thing happens on a diet. Just one pack of M&Ms. Just one doughnut. You fully intended to go back to your diet…but the lure of sugar pulls you back with its inexpensive price, advertisements, and availability.  Before you know it, you’ve gained back the weight that you lost.

Did you know that drifting away happens spiritually as well?

One of the many fallouts of COVID-19 has been the need to rearrange worship and Bible Study to an online format. The virus has spread too far and wide and killed (or assisted in killing) too many people to be taken lightly. However, the problem with this arrangement is simple: no accountability. Nobody knows whether you attend or not unless it is by Zoom.  And human beings lie. 

My drift wasn’t all at once. But I noticed it. Whenever I sang about Jesus, whenever I heard others pray in His Name, something in me would cringe. And that didn’t make any sense.

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It was like a spirit of shame lingered in the back of my heart. I didn’t understand it. So, on my way home from Little Rock, I asked God about it. I distinctly heard Him (in my mind, y’all–not audibly) ask about my fellowship with his Son lately. Sheepishly, I  admitted that I hadn’t talked to Him in a while. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I talked to Him. I had been pretty mad at Him for some time.

You see, something happened to my best friend, and God allowed it to happen. It wasn’t fair. And I had been deeply hurt for a long time.  I was so deeply hurt, I didn’t want to talk to Jesus about it.  Because He could have done something about it!  But now I realize there was another silent but deadly accomplice.

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The devil will do what he can to drive a wedge between the Lord and me. In my unwillingness to trust God with my best friend’s best interests, I allowed Satan to feed my desire for answers. Every time I said, “No” to the Holy Spirit’s invitation to fellowship, I said, “Yes” to Satan’s, and before I knew it, I  had strayed so far away from God’s influence that I couldn’t even hear the Holy Spirit wooing me.

Because of my relationship with Christ, my soul was starving for fellowship, and I didn’t even know it. It was not until I noticed a pulling away, a cringe, a discomfort whenever His name was mentioned outside of the church, that I knew something was wrong.

God, the Father, in His longsuffering love let me get to the point where I had to solve this mystery before He would show me how far I had fallen away. Now I understand why God says, in Jeremiah 29:13, ” You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart. I will be found by you.”

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My former pastor tells a story about a Native American who owned two dogs that fought each other day and night. One day, a man watching them fighting asked the Native American, “Which one of the dogs usually wins?” The Native replied, “The one I feed.” My poor starving soul. I kept her from feeding upon the Bread of Life and the Living Water so long that she had no strength to fight off the sin nature Satan fed with his attention.

Are you a proud prodigal wanting your day in court to plead your case against the Holy One? In your pursuit for what you understand as justice, will you spurn the invitations of the Holy Spirit, and by doing so, distance yourself from the only One who loves you completely?

Job, a prophet whom God called to go to Nineveh had that problem, too. He wanted his day in court.

I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
    I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep,
    that you put me under guard?
13 When I think my bed will comfort me
    and my couch will ease my complaint,
14 even then you frighten me with dreams
    and terrify me with visions,
15 so that I prefer strangling and death,
    rather than this body of mine.
16 I despise my life; I would not live forever.
    Let me alone; my days have no meaning.

17 “What is mankind that you make so much of them,
    that you give them so much attention,
18 that you examine them every morning
    and test them every moment?
19 Will you never look away from me,
    or let me alone even for an instant?
20 If I have sinned, what have I done to you,
    you who see everything we do?
Why have you made me your target?
    Have I become a burden to you?[a]
21 Why do you not pardon my offenses
    and forgive my sins?
For I will soon lie down in the dust;
    you will search for me, but I will be no more.”

God let Job have his say. But when Job was finished, God answered him.

“Who is this that obscures my plans(C)
    with words without knowledge?(D)
3 Brace yourself like a man;
    I will question you,
    and you shall answer me.(E)

And after God started to answer Job’s demands for an audience, Job realized that in his arrogance, he didn’t know who he was messing with, and he had no right to question God for any future reasons: 

“I am unworthy(E)—how can I reply to you?
    I put my hand over my mouth.(F)
5 I spoke once, but I have no answer(G)—
    twice, but I will say no more.”(H)

“I know that you can do all things;(A)
    no purpose of yours can be thwarted.(B)
3 You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’(C)
    Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
    things too wonderful for me to know.(D)

4 “You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;
    I will question you,
    and you shall answer me.’(E)
5 My ears had heard of you(F)
    but now my eyes have seen you.(G)
6 Therefore I despise myself(H)
    and repent(I) in dust and ashes.”(J)

Will you, like me, use your complaint to block hearing His still, small, voice calling your name? 

Will you allow Satan to convince you that Christ doesn’t love you, isn’t all-powerful, and doesn’t exist when He has proven to you in a hundred other ways, a hundred other times that He is faithful, longsuffering, and trustworthy?

In the words of Dr. Phil McGraw, “How is that workin’ for ya?” 


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Come home to Christ. He’s not mad at you. If Christ missed me, then He has missed you, too. It doesn’t mean that your questions don’t count.  It means that your fellowship with Him is more important than any question you have.  

It All Matters

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It All MattersDo you ever get tired of taking courses that you don’t really need but have to take because your university tells you that you need them?  I did when I was in college. I was such a poorly achieving college student compared to the majority who went to my small Baptist university in Arkansas.  They studied like mad, dated casually, if at all, and excelled in their classes. They were respected by professors, and they were respected by peers.

On the other hand, I was invisible.  I fell in love hard and fast. I studied fleetingly–enough to pass a test or a paper with a low B, maybe a C if it didn’t interrupt my private life. When friends and acquaintances saw me, I imagined that they shook their heads behind my back. Why? Because I didn’t take college seriously; as much as I wanted to go to such a ridiculously expensive university, I wanted to leave home even more. 

When I finally took the courses that “counted” in my eyes, I was a working fool. I didn’t sit back and wonder how I would use these courses unlike some of the others I took.  I was going to be a teacher:  the dream I had had all my life!

However, I learned a valuable lesson in 3 minutes and 2-3 weeks from graduation.

The dean of the education department, Dr. Charles Chambliss called me to his office so that he could check my grades before graduation. I gave him a copy of my transcript, and he averaged my grades in each semester including my straight As made in that present semester. I thought sure that those As would make up for my other classes that earned Bs or Cs.

“You don’t have the grade point to graduate, Rico.”

My stomach turned nauseous instantly.  “I don’t?”

“Well, no. You need at least a 3-point-0 grade point average in your major, and you have….a 2-point-4.”

What am I going to do?  

The only professor who I felt cared for me was Professor Betty Jo McCommas. Between sniffles and sobs, I sat in her office and explained my plight.  Professor McCommas talked me off the ledge while doodling a plan for a literature class for me based on obscure authors in the 19th century who didn’t usually make the canon: Robert Lewis Stevenson, George MacDonald, and James Barrie, for instance. She assured me that she could create a course to bring up the cumulative grade point to 3.0.

After the next class meeting, Dr. Chambliss was pleased that I had already made a plan and with a faculty advisor. He did the math to see if it would work, but the one extra course would not be enough.

“Rico…I don’t get it; you’ve done fine work for me.  What happened here….and here…and in these classes?”

I had no answer for him.  I was lazy.  I was in love at the time.  Of course, that relationship was over now, but him knowing that would do me no good.  I sat there, dejected, thinking of my family members who were coming from all over the state to see the first member of the family to graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree since our grandmother in 1952 at the age of 50.  And now, I had failed them.  Even worse, I failed myself.

“I’ll just have to take the summer and maybe the fall semester, sir.  It’s my fault.  I didn’t think about needing a certain grade point to graduate,” I said in response.

The silence was deafening.

At the last moment in a fit of grace, he snatched the official transcript I had in my hand and signed it for me. “Get out of here, Rico,” he quipped.

I was so ashamed.  But I thanked him profusely and began preparing for graduation.  But the fallout was still to come.

Did my laziness in those early years of college affect me?  You better believe it! First of all, every employer commented on my less than stellar grades.  My grades in my first two years of college didn’t matter to me when I was in college, but when you have no experience in your field, the only picture you have to show a potential employer is your grades, and let me tell you something: If you don’t have grades that you can be proud of, it’s embarrassing in front of an employer!

In fact,  I lost a job opportunity based on my performance in college.  And it made sense!   Who would want to hire an employee whose college transcript gives a picture of one who lacked the discipline to strive for excellence?  

Another way that my lackadaisical attitude cost me was in gaining recommendations.  Unless you have had extensive experience in the same field as the job you are applying for, you only have professors who can vouch for you.  But if you have not done well in their classes, who are you going to get to vouch for you? I could have used more recommendations from the English faculty if I had done better in their classes.

However, one great thing about lessons like this is using the opportunity to do better.  About five years, a marriage, and two more certifications later, I started graduate school.  Yes, the institution took a chance on me, but I learned my lesson, and I was not going to take university for granted anymore.  I aimed for an A every time, and the one course where I made a B, I was disappointed in myself, but the cumulative grade point was still good.

The Lesson? Every. course. matters.

The one that is boring.

The one on Saturday morning (yes, Saturday morning!)

The one with the monotone professor.

The one that is not a part of your major.

The one that you need a tutor to pass.

They all matter because you will learn something from being there; obedience and discipline, if nothing else. 

And your professors will learn a few lessons as well.

She doesn’t give up.

She does finish what she starts.

She isn’t too proud to use a tutor.

She doesn’t wait until the last minute to finish.

But wait! There’s more to this principle than just applying it to college.  It is a lesson about life.

The same kind of determination will be needed when you handle a stubborn toddler who does not want to obey.  Do you ignore her behavior or address it?

It is a lesson applied to marriage. Do you apologize to your husband when you know you’re wrong, or do you hope that he will oversee your hasty words and heated tone?

It is a lesson for employment. You saw your co-worker take out some cash from the drawer and put it in her pocket. Do you “snitch”?

It is a lesson behind every hard choice you will make: will you do what it takes, and not just do what is easy?

Hard choices do not go away; they get bigger, and the choices get harder.  And the bigger the issue, the easier that it can be postponed, but it cannot be ignored. So get used to making the hard choices now, and the future will not seem so daunting.

As for college, if you are not ready to go to college, don’t go.  Really. Get a job, go to work,  and see what it is like making a living. You may decide that a college degree is not for you, and that’s okay.  Learning a trade or a craft that affords you a life you can be proud of and a vocation that you enjoy is all you really need.  Back in my day, taking time to think about what you really want to do was not the norm, but now it is, and it’s high time that high school graduates take their lives seriously enough to know what they are getting into.  But whatever you do, remember that no experience is wasted as long as you learn from it, and it all matters.

Written from my heart,

Janet

A Tale of Veggies

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Do you have children who won’t eat their vegetables?  When our son was little, he would eat anything from the baby food jar: green beans, sweet potatoes, carrots, squash, and even spinach. 

I swelled with pride knowing that my kid didn’t spit out his green beans all over the restaurant table missing his bib.  He chewed them up and swallowed them just like I told him to.

So I let him have some of my cooking.  Unlike baby food beans, I proudly maintained, my green beans had flavor.  A little salt, a little chicken or beef bouillon cube for seasoning, and voilà!  No longer would I have to juggle jars of baby food into a buggy.

Hallelujah! 

So, one night, I cooked a meatloaf, with fried okra, mashed potatoes, and copper pennies.  I gave Ian a couple of tiny, pulverized bites from each food and waited patiently as he dipped his spoon into the food and managed to hit his mouth with a little of it…

Teething and massaging our gums

and he screwed up his face and out came the bite.  I thought I would help him with my spoon, so I got it back into his mouth….and out it came again. 

What?!  This can’t be happening.  Surely, if bland baby food hits his fancy, my flavorful, time-honored, Southern cooking would make him want to slap his.…never mind.

Well, I don’t give up easily. 

I scaled back the seasoning (maybe there were too many),

tried not to brown meats too dark (did it taste burnt?), and left out the salt.

But nothing worked. I struck out again. He still wanted the baby food.     

Fast forward three years, and we started bartering for food.  “Three M&Ms for 3 green beans. Whaddya say, Ian?”

(You can see how that went over.) Finally, I just had to make him eat them.  “Fine. You aren’t getting out of that chair until you eat 3 green beans.”  Two hours later, he finally ate them. 

Getting him to eat my cooking was the bane of my existence until I stumbled on something he would eat—only because the vegetables were hidden amidst all the chicken, butter, and other yummy fillings.  Chicken pot pie became the dish I used to help my texture-sensitive son eat his vegetables.

Chicken Pot-pie

2 stalks celery

1 Tablespoon of dried minced onion or 1/4 cup of chopped fresh 

Pre-cooked whole rotisserie chicken

2 Tablespoons butter

¼ cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

10 ½ ounce can of chicken broth

½ cup of milk

1 Tablespoon of poultry seasoning 

2 cups of cooked or frozen mixed vegetables (carrots, corn, green beans, potatoes)

1 box of roll-out pie crusts (2 inside box)

By preparing a couple of steps, you can blend the pot-pie in record time. Preheat your oven for 425°.  Open the two rolls of pie crust and allow them to warm to room temperature.

Chopped celery Chop 2 stalks of celery and 1/4 cup of onion or drown 1 Tablespoon of dried, minced onion in 1/4 cup of water to rehydrate. 

cutting up chicken for pot pieIf you buy a rotisserie chicken, already cooked, it will be easier on your wallet than buying a bag of frozen breasts or thighs and will take less time to prepare.  Cut through the center breastbone, tear the skin off, and pull apart the meat from the breasts, legs, and thighs. After finding all the meat on the chicken, cut it up into small cubes, and you’re half-way there. 

butter, onion, celery cooking

In a deep pot or Dutch oven, melt 2 tablespoons of butter and add the onion and celery.  Cook them on low until the onion is soft and transparent. Add ¼ cup of flour, 1 teaspoon of salt, and mix it with the onion and celery. 

Add a ½ cup of milk and stir and 1 tablespoon of poultry seasoning and stir well. 

Slowly add 10 ½ oz. can of chicken broth to the pot and stir. The flour will thicken the chicken stock, but don’t be surprised if you see lumps. Just keep stirring and working them out.  

Now add your chicken and 2 cups of cooked or frozen vegetables which include carrots, corn, green beans, and potatoes.  If you have some cooked vegetables and some frozen vegetables, that’s okay; blend them together.   

Unroll one of the pie crusts. If you are using a metal or glass pie plate, you are in luck: your pie crust will lay inside easily. Use your fingers to work around the pie plate and mold the raw dough so that it is completely touching the plate. 

Since I use a casserole dish, I roll my pie crusts thinly to make them stretch to the size of my dish…well, most of the dish.    

Scoop out the chicken mixture into the pie crust and use a spoon to level the mixture.    

Unroll the second pie crust and lay it over the mixture on your pie plate.  Again, with my casserole dish, I roll out the top crust thinly to cover the top. As you see, I had to cut it in half to pick it up…Oh, well.  Very carefully, roll the edges of the two crusts together. If you want to get fancy, pinch the top and bottom crusts together for a pretty edging all the way around the pie.    Afterward, cut 4 or 5 slits in the pie from the center to allow steam to escape while it’s cooking.

Unless you are using a sturdy casserole, like stoneware, set your pie plate on a cookie sheet before putting it in the oven to prevent a mess spilling the contents all over a hot oven or on the kitchen floor.

After about an hour, check the pie and look for a nice golden-brown crust.  Let it sit on top of the oven for about 5 minutes. Then it’s ready for dinner.

I cannot tell you how much I rejoiced the first time I saw my son eat a slice of chicken pot pie knowing it had six (count ‘em, 6) vegetables inside.  He even asked for seconds.  If I were smart, I would have recorded that.

I wish that I had made my own baby food with my own cooking. I could have used a blender and let my little ginger boy grow accustomed to the way I cook.  Unfortunately, I had no one to counsel me, and I’m not even sure that it was “the thing” to do when Ian was small.  However, now I can certainly see the benefits:  saving money from not buying all the jars of baby food packed with food additives and preservatives and starting out baby eating home cooking from the beginning.

Now Ian is 17, and I still can’t get him to eat many vegetables, but he will still eat Chicken Pot Pie.  If you have a wee-one (or a big one) who needs to eat her vegetables, feed her some pot pie.  

And if she’s still stubborn about it, wave a bag of M&Ms.  It can’t hurt.

 

Written from my heart,

Janet

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Living on God’s Timing

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Are we supposed to give thanks for everything? First Thessalonians 5:18 says that we should, but does that mean everything?  Do I still give thanks for the autoimmune diseases living like assassins inside my body?

An autoimmune disease attacks one’s own individual body organs or systems.  If it attacks joints, it’s Rheumatoid Arthritis.  If it attacks moisture producing areas like nasal passages or salivary glands, it’s Sjogren’s Syndrome. If it attacks blood platelets, it’s Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura (ITP).   If it attacks soft tissue, it’s Fibromyalgia.  And all of these fall under Lupus.

Lupus and these other autoimmune diseases are kept at bay with medication but sometime exhibit themselves in strong surges  of symptoms called “flares.”  Never did I think of thanking God for a Lupus flare, but while on a mission trip to Detroit with our youth group, I believe mine occurred at an opportune time.

On Sunday afternoon of our mission trip, the group walked a couple of miles from the parked vans to the arena to watch a Detroit Pistons game.  Coming from Arkansas where it was so warm that the blooming of spring flowers required daily allergy meds, the cold temperatures in Detroit took a little getting used to.

By the time I laid down that evening, I was in so much pain I could hardly move.  I took my medicines plus Acetaminophen for pain.  I woke up once in the night with a cold chill and curled up tighter in my sleeping bag.  The next morning, I had a fever; my major joints ached; my hands, feet, and face were swollen, numb, and tingly.  This, my friends, was an example of a flare, a heightened awareness of pain and other effects usually manifested from fatigue. Therefore, I stayed in bed, but not for long.

About an hour after the crew left for their first mission project, I received a frantic text from one of the sponsors telling me that our “bedrooms” in the Sunday School classrooms were reserved all day by other church and community groups starting that early afternoon.  I needed to make the rooms presentable if I could.  So I propped up airbeds, stacked luggage, and moved bath towels for 10 girls and my 2 co-sponsors.

After lunch, a phone call came from a business partner, a complex conversation, book the dates to be ready, when she would meet me in El Dorado, and how God was speaking to her regarding our next adventure—all at lightning speed.  I took notes that looked like gibberish while secretly wishing I knew shorthand.

Then, one of our young men came back from the day’s work retching, cramping, and feeling horrible with gallbladder issues.  When a sponsor asked me to look after him, I checked on him every two hours or so; blessedly, he slept all afternoon.

Who knew I would need to be here?  God did.

God knew the other youth sponsors would have no time to clean up whilst rallying teenage girls to wake up, shower, change and eat breakfast.

God knew my friend needed to speak to me whilst driving, prepare me to be blog-ready, and inform me she would be at my house after our mission group flew in from Detroit.

God knew a sick teenager needed to know that someone was nearby whilst he was likely to toss his cookies at any time.

No, thanking God for all things does not mean enjoying being a martyr.  But it does means that we can thank Him for His sovereign purposes that we are ignorant of knowing, trusting that when we cannot see ahead of us, He can.

How does God go before us?  That frustratingly slow driver in front of us driving 45 mph in a 55 zone prevented us from having a wreck.   And what about that excess change given by the newbie cashier we made fun of in our minds?  She was there so we could show our children honesty and not take advantage of another person’s weakness.

What about you?  Can you think of something that God  has allowed you to experience that has provided a benefit you didn’t expect?  Don’t forget to thank Him.

Written from my heart,

Janet