First Day in Massage Therapy

My intense back pain finally drove me to the chiropractor. I had tried the regular doc. People warned me that all he would do would be to give me muscle relaxers and run tests and MRI’s. They were right. So, I finally listened to some of my friends who recommended chiropractic treatment and massage therapy.

My first mistake might have been going there in the first place. I stuck with my old chiropractor based solely on the fact that he had a massage therapist right there in the office. I was hoping the massage would be part of my treatment. Imagine! A doctor ordering you to get a massage! I went in and laid down on the table. Ambient music played and water gurgled in a miniature fountain. And then she walked in.

I know people who talk about their these ‘healers’ in saintly terms, calling them miracle workers and so on. Not this one. She was the Monstrous Masseuse from Hell. My first clue should have been when she laughed and called me her victim. I thought she was kidding. Guess I thought wrong.

My second mistake was telling her where it hurt most. Take my advice if you ever go to one of these “therapists”: DON’T TELL WHERE IT HURTS! These therapists are paid on commission based on how bad they hurt you. Run if you can. Lie if you have to. But no. I had to tell her the exact location of the damaged nerve. She worked it till I cried. When she had succeeded in driving all feeling from my back, she had the gall to ask why I wasn’t flinching anymore. Unfortunately, by then I was too weak to slap her.

Church Search Volume 1

I had thought about writing about our hunt for a new church home. You know, kind of a journal about what we found at various places. Our journey...kind of a “Former Pastor’s Family Seeks New Church Home” series. But then I thought “Aawww, we will find one so soon, that there won’t be much to write about. We won’t see much in the brief time we are between churches.”

Wrong.

And we’ve seen it all, brother. (Ummm, what I meant to say is that they all have their own unique qualities.)

And then there’s the question of how much to say. Do I mention the NAMES of the churches we go to? Sidethought: mentioning names in conjunction with church-going always brings up Ray Stevens‘ Mississippi Squirrel Revival, “And then they started naming names!” (Okay, if you just got totally lost just now, you have more pressing issues than reading this blog. You need to stop and google the above and come back when you are more culturally balanced.)

But seriously. If I blog about my church search experience do I mention the names of the churches? That would certainly make all of this writing more useful than just being an entertaining (grant me this one) blog read. People could use the unbiased honest assessment of my experience to help them pick the next church to visit (or not) in their own church-home quest. Cause if I know anything, it’s that there are a LOT of people looking for a church home right now. And no, they are NOT all related to me!

And then there’s the other benefit (evil laugh). As Suzette said the other day, “Yeah, I read your blogs...whenever they’re about me.” Fame is waiting at my door if I just go ahead and say who I’m blogging about. People like nothing more than to read about themselves. So there you have it. If I write about churches, church officials everywhere will literally flock to my blog to see what I have to say about their church. Was it friendly enough? Did I like my guest gift? (why, yes I did!) What did I think about the message? The music? I would be like a mystery church shopper! Imagine! You may have a mystery guest at YOUR church this Sunday. They will observe everything. And they’ll go home and blog about it. And then...and then...I don’t know what then. It just could happen. That’s all I’m sayin’.

So whattayathink? Should I ‘start naming names’?

"Creative Reading"

I drew a picture--scribbles for sure

He hung it up

On the refrigerator door.

He could have said

"This is no good,"

And my childish heart would know it's true.

I also wrote a note--in crayon

I made a mess

Of what I meant to say.

A wordless attempt

With letters askew

But He chose to read it, "I love you."

Boatrocker

You think I’ve rocked the boat up till now? Just wait. Before now, I was doing everything I could to hold it still. If I breathed wrong I felt bad and apologized. I wanted you to be happy with the equilibrium of the vessel.

There were times I wanted to stand up and see the view. You saw it. The others on board did too. But I sat still. Maybe it is not something you required of me. But it is something I felt required to do. Nowadays I am running to the edge to peer over, and people are noticing. I know you want me to be still, but just wait. It’s gonna get worse.

You see I’ve been noticing some good things coming from what I’ve been doing lately. For one, I am getting to see a lot that I had missed. I can breathe the salt air. I like the “free” feeling of the wind running over my hair and skin. I like being able to see more than just the deck of the boat of life I’m on. There’s more out there than I knew.

But that’s only a side benefit. Daring to venture up from the plank floor and over to the side was the best thing I ever did because it showed me I could be all right even if I wasn’t in control. When I stood the boat tossed. I was afraid. But I was okay. The dread that had accumulated in my heavy heart over many years of terrified crouching dissolved into the past. My fear melted away. My fear of being seasick. My fear of falling over. My fear of disappointing you.

And I’m brought to mind of another great boat rocker. Remember the story of Jonah? God rocked the boat he was on. And when he did, the others on board noticed. The one running from God was thrown over. The boat rocking acted kind of as a purge. If God hadn’t rocked it, Jonah would not have repented and the others on board wouldn’t have seen the power of God.

And you know what? It may seem like it’s me rocking your world. But is not really me. I don’t have that kind of control. So...

Hold on. I know it’s rough. I know it’s scary. I can’t hold it still. You’re gonna have to do you’re own holding on. And if you are bound and determined to sail on a steady boat, you can even try your hand at holding it still a while. But I’m not gonna sit down.

Besides, unless you’re running away to Joppa, you’ll probably make it through.

Book Review: "Fearless" by Max Lucado

What if I lose my job? What if I make a mistake with my children? What if the thing I fear the most come to pass?

What are you afraid of?

In his most recent book, Fearless, Max Lucado dares to approach the very topics we are afraid to bring up:

Fear of not mattering

Fear of Disappointing God

Fear That God Is Not Real

Perhaps our biggest fear should be that God is Who we act like He is. We paint God as a tame deity. In our out-of-control world, we like to think we have a God we can control. But thanks to God He is bigger than we can imagine! He is bigger than our fears, and He is not a tame God!

This book is a quick and easy read. The author uses lots of imagery, simple language and clever antidotes. Every chapter begins with a quote from Jesus on the topic of fear. These topics range from fear of violence to financial fears and everything in between. I even think it would be an appropriate read for school-age children. I’m handing the book to my ten-year old son in the morning. What better gift can I give him than to lead him to the source of fearless living?

You’re so vain. You prob’ly think this blog is about you.

You know, as a wannabe writer, this is one of my biggest fears. I’m afraid that people will take my writing the wrong way. Or worse, they will think it’s about them when it’s not.

The last thing I want to do is alienate friends and family. I would, however, like to be able to write things that would touch other people. And frankly, most stories with enough meat to touch someone else have to come from real life. Similarly, I’d like to be able to get up on my soapbox and have a good rant, without someone thinking I’m ranting about them. And in case you’re wondering, no, no one has accused me of any of that...yet.

But it could happen. Especially if I unleash myself to write as I’d like. As I feel led. It’s similar to the way my husband the preacher felt when he would preach something God had laid on his heart and people were convinced it was about them. One day he told me he was having trouble thinking of anything to preach about that wasn’t going on in someone’s life. Because, like it or not, it’s not good preaching if it’s not real life. The Bible is about real life and if it is truly relevant, it is going to sound...well, familiar.

But, like my preacher husband was sometimes wont to do, I have chased a rabbit...

John Boy Walton...now there’s a writer with a problem. He knew all of 20 people. A dozen of them were his family. And when he dared mention them in his story he had more trouble than he knew what to do with. That could be me someday. Or if I know you...it could be you!

I’m not gonna lie to you. You could end up in a story. I mean after all, you are hilarious (I meant to say interesting) material. I can’t pass up what you say and do and never include it in anything I write. So beware! If I know you, you could end up in print. Just thought you’d like to know. But I’d like to let you in on a little secret about us writer type folks: Our stories are not 100% true. For instance, something you say might end up as a snazzy quote made by a flashy blonde character named Suzette. That doesn’t necessarily mean that you ARE Suzette. Suzette may eat lobster and you are allergic to lobster. She may drink and hang out at night clubs, and you hang out at Baskin Robbins. Suzette may be a little more complex than she seems, you know. Suzette could even represent every blonde friend I have, heaven forbid!

No, this is not a new trick of mine or something designed to throw you off the scent. Writers have always done this. Remember Nellie from the Little House Books? (Or for Suzette who never reads: Remember Nellie from the tv show “Little House on the Prairie”?) Well Nellie was a compilation of people Laura Ingalls had known in her childhood. It seems that anyone who was ever mean to little Laura was rolled into one neat little package named Nellie Oleson. I wonder what would have happened if any one of those snotty Nellie’s read the book, recognized some of her misdeeds but found far more evil accredited to her than she ever really did. Thankfully, Laura Ingalls Wilder was smart enough not to use any of Nellie’s actual names. Like me. I don’t really know a Suzette. (Calm down, Suzette, I do know you...just not a real person named Suzette. I’ll explain later.)

All this to say: Read away. Take it or leave it. I hope you like it. And if I’m any good at all, some of it will sound like it’s written about or to someone you know. But don’t be vain. It’s not about you.

At least not entirely. (Insert evil laugh.)