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Christian insprirational

Granny on the Gridiron

“No way, no thanks. I’ll be the ref. I know the game of football and I can officiate,” I pleaded. But my protest was met by somewhat selective hearing from the twelve-year-old, self-appointed mini NFL general.

Our inter-generational church group was on a mission trip and because we all had worked so hard, we decided to take the kids to a park for a little run and fun. In the park there were several kids from the local community and they were delighted to see more kids arrive. Now they could have a real game of football – with enough participants to make up two teams.

When the appointed captains began to choose sides, it became apparent one team was short by one player. The captain of the less populated team looked at me and said, “Okay Granny you be on our team.”

“Oh no. That is not happening. I’m the ref.” I stated.

“No, we need one more and we just have to settle for you.” He turned his back and walked onto the field to discuss goal selection, coin toss and other details of what was an impending game for them, and an invitation to traction for me. I had no time to be offended by his tone or his assumed authority.

Now I can hear a lot of folks out there saying, “How rude that he would address you as ‘Granny.’” Well, that was not my first, second or third concern. I felt like I had just fallen off a boat into deep water without a life jacket and the realization that I am less than an excellent swimmer.

I directed my panicked stare to one of the other adults in the group, (30+ years my junior) and tried to silently present my case while my head shook and my eyes widened to assume 80% of the real estate that once was my face. He shrugged, smiled and I succumbed to what appeared to be my destiny.

Blessed with a quick mind and fueled by an intense sense of cowardice, I formulated an emergency plan. I would just hang out in the backfield and help guide the guy or gal with the ball handed to them. On the first hike of the ball, the intended runner fumbled the ball right into my hands.

“Run Granny,” he shouted.

It didn’t take long to realize this was great advice as I stared down an advancing wall of little defenders who were between me and the direction of our assigned goal. I can’t remember what came from my mouth but I hauled my 5′ nothing frame in my best moves to maneuver around the string of goal-stealing units.

Okay, spoiler alert. I am a gold medal winning Irish step dancer and ran track with quite a few victories in my earlier days. Note: The latter was in the previous century. It is amazing, however, how muscle memory can be resurrected in a moment when life and/or limbs appear to be in danger and one’s life passes before one’s eyes.

I ran, dodged and sidestepped my way three quarters of the way down the field before I ran out of bounds, leaving not just a few of my teammates and opponents behind. Please know I didn’t give a toss about victory. I just wanted to go home with all the parts I had arrived with. Knowing that this little shenanigan of mine was going to be costly, I chose to end the sprint with a face-saving out-of-bounds exit.

“Man, Granny can run.” The cheers and whistles from the quarterback and my teammates were welcome relief when considering that just moments before I was pretty sure I’d be greeted by a choir of angels crooning, “Welcome home, your race is completed now.”

The rest of the game I did my best to not carry the ball and was successful at it. I also tried to remember where I had seen the closest Walgreens, where I could pack a cart with Advil and Epsom Salts.

The game ended, (Praise God), and my teammates slapped me on the back and thanked me for being a good sport. They kept saying how surprised they were that a woman of my age could run and move so well. I resisted temptation to say, “You think You were surprised?”

That night, after my hour in a hot tub and then an Epsom Salts bath offered to my aging frame in apology, I reflected on the game, and the kids. And even though I was going to be sore for a few days, I decided it was worth it to see their smiling faces. It was beyond precious time to be with a group of kids from different backgrounds, ages, sizes and colors as well as different locations and in some cases different languages. All they wanted was to just be together, live, laugh and have some fun. I wondered if that was a little glimpse of Heaven.

When my husband asked what I was giggling about, I apologized for keeping him awake and told him to go to sleep. I assured him I’d be joining him in Slumber Ville as soon as the Advil kicked in.

This story is dedicated to my dear friend Nathan Heimer, who witnessed the whole thing and we both lived to tell about it.

Copyright June, 2021 Laura L. Padgett, M.A.

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Don’t forget to follow my podcast episodes which will begin on June 9, 2021, my 70th BD. You may hear the podcast on any device of your choice and on any platform where you now receive your podcasts. Or you can click on the Podcast Episodes tab on the home page of this website.

Christian insprirational

The Mortar Man Cometh

Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?

—Job 12:12, NETš

In honor of my upcoming 70th birthday in June, I wanted to offer this piece, previously published on my blog as well as in my award-winning book, Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Short Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments. Age is a gift from God. I praise Him for every minute, day, month and year.

Despite modern-day messages to the contrary, the aging process can represent a glorious time filled with gifts not necessarily available in our youth. One of those is wisdom we gain that affords us critical thinking skills. These are especially useful when making healthy choices for our well-being. For example, we can choose to fight to retain our youth, which is impossible in reality. Or we can elect to accept ourselves, even with signs of aging, as we grow older. I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to look and feel our best, but we should understand the futility of buying into the culture’s definitions of what our best should be. Basically, it all depends on whether we choose to listen to the world’s view of aging or to God’s view.

This point was brought home to me one morning as I walked in a mall, after an exercise class, and sipped on a hot vanilla latte. A salesman emerged from behind a kiosk with a pitch aimed at convincing me I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to purchase his age-reversing face cream.

He made an attempt (unsolicited) to guess my age. He tried flattering me by offering an estimate that was twenty years younger than my actual age. He then told me what he did not like about my face. In his opinion, my wrinkles had to go. It was fortunate for me that he had just the product to fill in the cracks, smooth out my face, and make it “real pretty.”

This is where my mind checked out and I politely nodded like a bobble headed dog in the back of a 1960 Cadillac. I wasn’t trying to be discourteous, but my thoughts wandered to the image of a former neighbor. When I was a little girl, we lived next door to a man named Mr. Mueller. Every day he went to work in his big white panel truck, dressed in overalls and a checkered shirt. He carried a metal slate with a handle and a small tool with a triangular blade called a trowel. He was a bricklayer, and these were the tools of his trade.

One day I asked Mr. Mueller about these interesting gadgets. He informed me that he used them to mix up something called mortar and put it into cracks between bricks. The mortar, he told me, held the bricks in place, filled in the cracks, and made brickwork look real pretty and smooth.

I heard someone cough, realized I was being rude with my mental time travel, and came back into the company of this modern-day mortar man who didn’t like my face. He offered to do his magic by smoothing the rough parts of my face and making me look more desirable. His smile faded as I looked past him in anticipation of seeing my childhood neighbor. The anti-aging guru stepped around me to try his luck with the next potential customer. I moved on and enjoyed my latte.

That night, I couldn’t help studying my mug in the mirror. I made faces trying to find what needed to be plastered up. I smiled and then frowned. I wanted to see why I simply could not live without a half-ounce jar of a concoction developed to make my face acceptable.

As I began my survey, I was struck by the stories reflecting back at me. I saw a little girl who survived a family riddled with alcoholism, domestic violence, and abuse. Some smile wrinkles represent the madness of my early twenties with the parties, music, protests, and fierce intensity spent on self-definition. Other lines fade into strokes of sadness as I thought about many friends who never returned from Vietnam. Still other lines represent furry at the injustice my sisters and brothers of color have experienced, and still are experiencing, at being denied something that is supposed to be guaranteed in our country—equitable treatment on all levels.

I ran a forefinger over creases signifying indescribable joy when I first held my child after his birth. These lines sit next to those carved from anguish felt when standing beside others as they buried their precious babies.

Tears filled my eyes when I remembered the night I found and accepted Jesus. I rocked gently in the rhythm of the dance we’ve done for over forty years. In gratitude to Him, I acknowledged the blessings of family, friends, and the opportunity to grow through forgiving and being forgiven.

In my face that night, I saw tracks of a lifetime that has seen good and bad, joy and disappointment, fear and faith, love and loss, and the precious gift of over six decades on this earth. Although I have never considered myself a traffic-stopping beauty, I was puzzled to think my face could be considered offensive to someone with no understanding of the treasure represented by each fold or furrow. I sent up a little prayer asking God to protect that young man and many others in our society from being brainwashed by the sales pitch he had memorized.

I turned off the light and headed to bed. While submerging into a pillow, our Lord played a musical poem and guided me into dreams. Even in semi-consciousness, I knew God was revealing His truth about beauty and who defines it.

“I’ve put you dear one in this time and this space

Sculpted your life, plotted the course of your race

And even though life is both leather and lace

There is nothing, sweet child

I don’t love on your face.”

Photo by Sandee Flanagan

Copyright May 2021, Laura L. Padgett, M.A.

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

The Holy Hoover

“I am so tired of wind. What purpose does it really serve anyway?” I grumbled as I made a cup of black tea and sat by a window where I could see the trees and bushes dancing with their invisible partner. Even though windy spring days are common in Colorado, I can be caught off guard and fall into complaining about the inconvenience and, what I consider, discomfort.

I wanted to go outside for a walk that morning, but the wind kept me inside because it plays havoc with my ears and sinuses. Instead of walking, I chose to sit by the window, sip the tea and complain to God that this weather element He created seemed a little useless, in my opinion. I persisted in explaining that physical exercise is one way I keep my assigned temple healthy. The wind continued to blow. I continued to offer my logical arguments against the squall outside my window.

My annoyance was short-lived as my attention was captured by a small tree not far from the window where I sat. It was engaged in battle with the fast air movement. With each wind burst, dead leaves (remnants of the previous year’s foliage) were released. It was as if the wind was a natural vacuum cleaner, removing debris from the branches. As the tree let go of what was no longer of use, it appeared to stand taller and straighter, relieved of unnecessary baggage. I imagined Mother Nature in her multi-pocketed apron pushing an invisible upright Hoover sweeper around each tree branch.

I was hypnotized by the pattern of air gusts met by branch resistance and then the relaxation of the branches as the wind force lessened periodically. I became lulled out of my discontentment and focused on a scene playing out in front of me. When the tree was almost entirely free of dry lifeless leaves, I thought it would no longer be engaged in the war with the wind. But as I squinted and peered closer, it appeared there was a small branch determined to hang onto one dead leaf, no matter the cost and even if the branch broke under the pressure exerted by the air stream.

It didn’t take long to understand that if the branch would relinquish its grip on the dead leaf, it would no longer be in this uncomfortable and dangerous struggle. Now surely the branch does not have the cognitive ability to make the decision to release that which is dead and no longer serving it. But what about me?

God in His wise and patient teaching used a beautiful natural illustration to gently show me that in my own life I can sometimes hold onto elements that are not producing any positive good in my life. I closed my eyes in prayer and thanked God for this sweet lesson in His vast classroom.

I knew God was giving me an exercise in health that was valuable beyond that outdoor walk I was unhappy about missing. As I sat quietly listening to the wind, I asked God if there were things I needed to release for my mental and spiritual health. I asked Him to show me where there were areas I needed to forgive. Perhaps I needed to ask forgiveness or reach out to a friend I may have hurt. I asked Him to help me inventory where my resentments and entitlements lay in the face of so much loss and denial of what I wanted, especially in the last year and a half.  I truly wanted to know what God was trying to Hoover away.

Before leaving my chair by the window, I looked at the ground beneath the tree and noticed a brown, dead leaf. When I looked up to the little tree branch, I saw it was no longer resisting the wind. It was straight, and the wind was blowing around, but not at, it. I was thrilled to see the emergence of a new, tender, baby leaf in place of the dead one.

“I see Lord. Looks like I may need to let go of some useless matter in my own life, in order to make room for new growth in You, huh? Okay, nice one,” I said. After two deep sighs, I smiled and decided to make another cup of tea.

Now I can’t honestly say I welcome the windy days in my little western Colorado community with open arms, for reasons I mentioned at the start of this post. But I can say that I understand all things in God’s creation can be seen through the lenses of learning, growing and maybe even releasing. I am beginning to understand more deeply that nothing in God’s created universe is without use. And sometimes, He just asks that I embrace a needed cleansing as spiritual discipline.

Copyright April 2021, Laura L. Padgett, M.A.

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

We Are All One

Please join me today in welcoming my friend and guest blogger, Claire Cassell, as she shares a true story with a needed message in a time when many of us have lost friends, family and associates due to toxic polarity in our country. Claire’s story of heart choices, told through the lenses of honesty and humility, touched me so deeply that I wanted to share here with you. Thank you Claire. This is timely and truly a step in the right direction for reconciliation needed right here, right now.

By Claire Cassell

I hadn’t talked to my step-sister in a long time. We were both born in St. Louis, but we didn’t grow up together. We had the same dad but had different mothers. We never got together for holidays as kids, but when we became adults, we exchanged Christmas cards and signed them with love. She would call every so often when she and her husband traveled through my city on one of their trips around the country. Even though she was technically part of my family, I didn’t feel close to her and always felt some guilt for not reaching out to her more or showing interest in her life.

I knew that she would be at my niece’s wedding and so I called her ahead of time to let her know I would be there. I decided that when I did see her, I would show interest in her and try to make a real connection. My call was an attempt to begin the process of reaching out. As I listened to the phone ringing and my heart beating, I hoped that it would go to voicemail and I could leave a quick message. “Hello?” she answered. After I caught my breath, I said, “Hi, this is Claire. I’m going to the wedding next week. I heard you were coming too.” We exchanged small talk for a few minutes.

Then she said, “I just dropped off my ballot,” and proudly announced who she voted for. My heart quickened and my hand tightened around my cell phone as I blurted out, “Well, you and I are on opposite sides of the fence.” Suddenly, my step-sister, with whom I was attempting to make a connection, seemed like the enemy. All of my judgements raised their ugly heads like monsters coming out of the deep. I pictured myself talking to her at the wedding, which would happen right after the election, dreading how awkward our conversation would be. I wished I had never made the call or accepted the invitation to the wedding.

When I came out of my trance, I heard her say the words, “That’s okay.” I paused, and thought, that’s “ok” when so much is at stake in this election? Her nonchalant response didn’t match the urgency I was feeling around this particular election. Was it OK that we were on opposite ends of the political spectrum? Knowing this, would we still be able to make a connection as family members? Then, somewhere out of my unconscious mind, the words came floating up, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female; (Democrat nor Republican), for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

A memory sparked in my mind remembering my step-sister babysitting me when I was very small and she was a teenager. She was kind, loving and fun. I never understood why she always went home to another mother and didn’t stay at our house. My dad tried to explain to me that she was my half-sister, but I didn’t understand why she couldn’t be my whole sister.

Now, fifty years later, the choice was mine. Was I going to accept my sister who grew up in a different house with another mother and who was now on the other side of the fence? As I prepared to respond to her, I felt another spark inside, but this time it was in my heart. “No matter who wins the election,” I said, “I love you, Barb. See you at the wedding.”

Claire Cassell currently serves as a pastor at Abiding Hope Lutheran Church in Littleton, Colorado, a chaplain at West Pines Chemical Dependency and Behavioral Health Center and a Spiritual Director and Life Coach. Over the past forty years, she has served in parishes, campus ministry, chemical dependency and chaplaincy settings around the country. She loves teaching spirituality classes, workshops and retreats and has been practicing and teaching Qigong for over 30 years. She has a passion for the healing arts and is a Reiki and Healing Touch practitioner. Claire lives with her husband and two dogs in Arvada, Colorado and enjoys hiking, swimming, gardening and kayaking. If you would like to connect with Claire she can be reached at ccassell123@gmail.com

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

Not Now God, I’m Busy

The hardest thing about meditation, for me, is well…meditating. It requires chromosomes I believe are lacking in my DNA. Here are a few examples: sitting still, thinking of only one thing at a time and being in a quiet space (no music, etc.). But, several years ago I was invited to a class on contemplative prayer where I learned a technique that can provide ways to control my wandering, and sometimes, unquiet mind.

This is how it works. When entering into my sacred space with God, I picture myself sitting on the bank of a slow-moving river. I am under a large tree that shades me as I relax on luxurious green grass. If an unwanted thought comes into my mind, I don’t fight it. I simply put it on a little sail boat and send it down the imagined river with a promise to catch up to it soon. This has proven to work well for dislodging distractions, for the most part. The problem is that this practice to avoid distractions can become a distraction in itself.

That was the case last week as I sat considering my next steps moving forward with an artistic project for 2021. I believe this project has the go ahead from God and therefore, left it up to Him to provide details of how to work it out. As patience is not my long suit, I can easily give up the pursuit of celestial answers in favor of engaging in my gold-medaled, championship anxiety dance. And that is where I began to go as weeks turned into months and still there didn’t seem to be answers I needed/wanted.

In times of confusion and impatience, I’ve learned that turning to other believers and artists is helpful for refocusing on focusing. So, after talking to another artist about my dilemma and hearing her promise to pray for me, I resigned myself to bring the situation, and myself, once again before the Lord to await answers. As I quieted my heart and closed my eyes, pesky little thoughts entered into my meditative process. Refusing to be rattled, I took deep breaths and recited the verse, “Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path,” Psalm 119:105.

I did my usual packing of intruders onto pint-sized sail boats and sending them flowing down the river, promising to return to them later. This time, the miniature thought-laden boats didn’t sail away. Instead, they turned around and came back upstream with their passengers stubbornly demanding attention.

After several attempts to enforce the merrily, merrily on your way technique, I became exasperated. I told God,“Lord, I do Not have time for these interruptions. I’m Trying to hear what You are telling me about proceeding with our new adventure.”

The more I asked for help and shipped off the intrusive sailors, the more they returned until they lined up side-by-side on my grassy cerebral shore. I narrowed my eyes, told them to go and explained (with little patience now) I had no time for them at the moment. With unexpected clarity my vision began to make out a pattern. The uninvited attention grabbers were docking their vessels in a certain order.

They appeared to be methodical and calculated steps for the construction of God’s new assignment for me. I sat motionless for several minutes until I saw this was what I’d been asking for. Although I had no time to hear what God was saying because I was listening for what He was saying, He brought His precious cargo of answers. I laughed out loud (yes in the sacred, silent space) before my delight turned to panic. I had no doubt the little crafts with their informative freight would soon float away into the sea of “Should have written that down.”

After scribbling frantically for fifteen minutes and watching thoughts go peacefully on their watery way, I got out of my chair, walked into the office shared with my husband and sat down with a thump. Not realizing I spoke out loud, I said, “What do you know about that? Humph.”

My husband asked what I was thumping and humphing about. I tried to explain but recognized my verbal communication skills had boarded the last boat out of port that morning. Observing some puzzled looks from my man, I gave up and said, “Just got some stuff sorted out, I think. Amazing how God works, huh?”

After hubby announced that I looked like I could use a nap, I said, “I do feel a little tired right now. I think for the rest of this day, I’m going to make time to just relax and go with the flow.”

Copyright March 2021, Laura L. Padgett Montrose, CO

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

Don’t Shrug it Off

“That’s very attractive. Where can I get that?” A woman at the Estes Park Wool Market asked me as I walked around the vendor booths wearing what is known as a shrug. This particular garment is knitted or crocheted like a shawl, but the sleeves are sewn closed to the elbow. This keeps the shawl snug. Hence the term, shrug.

I told her they were available a few yards from where we stood and pointed her to where she could find them. Then I smiled to myself. It wasn’t an accident that I was walking through the vendor tents wrapped in a knitted shrug in the middle of June. It was intentional.

You see, years before this incident, I met a woman named Rita who made these exquisite wraps and I tried one on for the first time. She had forgotten to bring her mirror that day for her booth but gave me permission to walk to a neighboring booth and use their mirror. As I examined my reflection, a woman approached me and asked where I bought it. I told her I was trying it on and directed her to Rita’s booth. In the time it took me to examine the shrug’s fit, two other women asked where I found this unusual piece of clothing.

Before I could return to Rita’s booth, three women purchased shrugs from her and said they did so because they saw another person (me) wearing one. This began a new friendship as Rita and I hatched a plan. Every year after that, the first booth I stopped at when attending the market was Rita’s. I’d slip on one of her creations, and then stroll among the vendor booths shopping and chatting with other shoppers. It often worked a treat and increased Rita’s sales. Out of gratitude she would sell me a shrug of my choice at a greatly reduced price. It was not uncommon for her to fashion one just for me and bring it along to the market for my modeling gig.

During the course of a several year association, Rita told me there was nothing more powerful or influential than one-on-one contact, explanation and sharing of experiences. She taught me there are many ways to influence people. She emphasized that demonstration is one of the great influencers for positive, or negative, outcomes.

Over the past several years, I’ve lost contact with Rita because she stopped coming to the market. But when I have occasion to wear one of her beautiful creations, I reflect on the lessons she taught about people being attracted or repelled by what they can see and hear for themselves. I’ve incorporated her wisdom in a philosophy that attraction is more effective than promotion. I have come to understand, particularly in the last year that how I carry myself, wear my faith and speak my truth can all be influencing others for God’s kingdom. And that is what I am really called to model, to the best of my ability, at all times.

I want to be honest and openly admit that I’ve not done a stellar job of this in recent months, as I have repeatedly given into fear, anger and frustrations. I’m afraid I’ve taken too lightly the assignment of modeling Christ as I walk through joy and difficulty. I am asking God to forgive me for my actions and my attitudes that have fed those actions. Where needed, I’ve asked forgiveness from others who I may have hurt or offended. I’ve also offered forgiveness to those who have hurt or offended me, whether they make amends or not.

It is also very important to understand that I do not advocate for silencing our voices or opinions. God calls us to find peaceful ways of restoring justice and living in harmony with each other. Speaking our mind can be done in ways that do not cause more harm. The Bible calls it speaking the truth in love while trying to be more Christ-like in maturity (Ephesians 4:15).

I’ve asked God to help me be more aware of how I’m presenting Him to the world. Because awareness without action will never pave a road for change, I’m asking Him to help me daily take my responsibility seriously to shine His light and warmth to a world needing His truth more than ever before. I’m clinging to the objective of behaving in such a way that others will say, “That’s very attractive. Where can I find that?” And mostly I’m asking Him, when given opportunity to interact with others, that I put my responsibility to Him before all else, praying I will avoid temptation to just shrug it off.

One of Rita’s gems

Copyright Feb, 2021 Laura L. Padgett, Montrose, CO

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

The Pages I Turn to

“My dad passed away yesterday. I turn to page 78 and the top of page 79. Thank you for being you. I appreciate you.”

I stared at the words in an email that carried the subject line, “The page I turn to in your book.” I said a prayer for my friend. She was in deep pain from loss. I then read the pages she was referring to in my first book Dolores, Like the River.

“There were times I felt I could not go on any longer. It never failed that at those dark times, a letter would arrive from Dolores with a Scripture verse included. One of her favorites was from Ps. 34:18 that read, ‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’”

I closed the book I had written over eight years ago and reflected not only on the words, but the time when I too felt a pain similar to that my friend now voiced. I cried as I remembered that time and Dolores’ gift of sharing comforting words in an attempt to offer a hand of friendship across a bridge only I could walk. And I thanked God that He had given me opportunity to share those words with others when they would need to rely upon a hand of friendship in a lonely journey.

When my husband, Keith, came into my office and asked what was going on, I read the email to him. He sat down and took my hand and said, “Well, I guess that is your answer then isn’t it?”

“What? What answer are you talking about?” I asked.

Keith reminded me that for several months I’d been asking God what my focus should be in terms of resuming my writing career. I explained to the Lord, because I wasn’t sure He was aware, that COVID had shut down all opportunities to market my books in person, and I wasn’t particularly inspired to keep writing. Without an immediate response from Him, I became increasingly reluctant to pick up my pen.

My husband kissed my forehead and went to answer a phone call. I was left alone with my thoughts, my questions and the reality that maybe, just maybe, I was discouraged because I allowed the purpose of my writing ministry to become blurred.

Oh sure, I always said it was God’s gifting of me that allowed this book to be written and it was for His glory. But when there was no movement on sales or events to promote the work for an extended period of time, where was that conviction? I questioned how God could possibly use my little books to help others without my earthly efforts to promote that work.

In the silence that often affords clarity, I saw that my husband was right. God was not only using my little story to help another hurting heart that day, He was nudging me to continue using my gifts to tell His truths through my own experiences. I needed to obey and answer His call. He will work out details of sharing the fruits of that obedience according to His will.

When I went to share this revelation with Keith, he motioned for me to come closer to him. Then he said, “Well she’s right here. I’ll let you talk to her.”

“Hi Laura. I just wanted you to know I’m sitting here reading Jesus in Shorts. I love this book. I read one story a day or sometimes more. They are very inspiring.” The voice belonged to a friend of Keith’s and mine who was calling about another matter but wanted to tell me what my second book meant to her. I thanked her for the kind words and then thanked God because he could not have been clearer in His directive; and as always, His timing was impeccable.  

As I reflected on these two events, I again committed to surrendering my gifts, and all of my intentions for their use, to the One who always knows how best to use them. I was humbled and in awe that He directed these two precious friends to make His intentions clear. I thanked Him that my little books and their stories were chosen, by Him and them, as the pages they turned to.

Copyright January 2021, Laura L. Padgett, Montrose, CO

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

 

 

Christian insprirational

Little Drummer Girl

“Dance is absolutely not an appropriate art for worship. It is almost indecent to think about dancing in church. And on the altar? No, my dear, no.”

Like so many others in church, I was seeking permission from the leaders to bring my gift from the Lord in prayer, praise and worship. This strong rebuke left no room for discussion and no margin for doubt. My gift was not wanted or recognized as a valid worship art.

I went home and prayed about my encounter and asked God to release me from the dream of dancing with and for Him. After a few weeks, I submitted to the words of the church elders and accepted the fact that my art was not altar worthy.

For months I tried to bury the dream of dancing with and for God’s people. I even questioned Him about the reminders He sent in dreams and visions when I heard praise music. My mind always saw a dance. My feet refused to be still and my heart flooded with praise in the movement.

Then one Christmas I was listening to music on the radio and I heard the song, “The Little Drummer Boy.” The song is about a child who felt his gift was not worthy of the new king. Still he was encouraged to bring his gift to the cradle of the Baby Jesus too, and to give his very best.

I closed my eyes and listened to the story of the small, fictitious boy who brought his gift forward and offered what he had to our Lord. He played his best for Jesus, emphasizing his praise with every heartbeat, “Pa rum pum pum-pum” Oh how I identified with the little boy – shy, small and convinced he had gift poverty. But God said, “Bring your gift child, bring your gift.”

“I have no gift to bring
Pa rum pum pum-pum
That’s fit to give our King
Pa rum pum pum-pum”

My hurting heart heard the words and understood that no matter what anyone said, God defines “worthy”; and all of His gifts are worthy. I committed that day to always dance for an audience of One first. I surrendered my gift to Him knowing He approved it, and He would use what He gave me at His designated time. I just needed to keep dancing for and with Him.

“I played my drum for Him
Pa rum pum pum-pum
I played my best for Him
Pa rum pum pum-pum
Rum pum pum-pum
Rum pum pum-pum
Then He smiled at me
Pa rum pum pum-pum
Me and my drum.” Lyrics by Katherine Kennicott Davis, 1941

In the stillness of that moment and the peace of recognition, I knew the time would come for dance to be brought into worship. And it wasn’t long before it was.

Since then, I’ve danced from California to Ottawa in praise to Jesus. I’ve been in big churches and small, retreats and workshops – as teacher and student. God has used this gift to bless, heal and encourage others as each step brings glory to Him.

I never stop thanking Him for that moment when He used a secular tune to comfort and encourage me in His plans. And there are few mornings, after awakening, when I don’t walk into the presence of my favorite dance partner. He always takes me in his arms and we move together in prayer and praise. I sigh and hum, “Pa rum pum pum-pum.”

Copyright June 2019 Laura L. Padgett, Montrose, CO

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

Christian insprirational

The lenses of Wisdom

I have recently come into an understanding that I have less understanding, than I thought, about most things happening in my life. I also have been shown, by the need for bifocal eyeglasses, that my physical vision was not always clear. I often stumbled, bumped into things and could not read well (falling behind in my reading and becoming frustrated). When I finally took the advice of my eye doctor and purchased a pair of desperately needed bifocals, my world changed in many ways, not the least of which was seeing new spiritual truths. I wanted to share that story with you on my blog as some of my followers here are not with me on Facebook and other social media platforms, where I originally shared this little story.

I hope this little video blesses you today. With Christ’s love from me to you, I send my heart.

laura

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page.

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on my home page

Christian insprirational

Can’t talk to a numb tongue

I wrote this story in the summer of 2016 originally and it appeared on this blog in early 2017. It’s funny how it is as relevant, or perhaps more so, today than three and a half years ago. It also is the lead story in my award-winning book, “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Short-Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments”.

See to it, brothers and sisters, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called ‘Today’, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. Hebrews 3:12-13

I wasn’t sure what I found more oppressive, my fear of the dentist as I sat in the chair for my appointment or my sense of guilt at the way a disagreement with a friend ended the previous evening. That conversation weighed heavily on my mind. We were talking politics. This friend and I have been on opposite sides of most issues for over thirty years. In the past, we have always been open to different points of view and kept civility in our conversations. This is due, in large part, to our mutual love for the Lord Jesus Christ.

Our conversation began calmly. But before long we were talking over each other, insisting only one person could be right; and we ended just this side of exchanging personal potshots. Anyone who has taken a debate class knows an argument is lost when we resort to injuring others because it screams, “My position is weak as water, and the only way I can win is to distract you with insults.”

Still, passion is passion and it doesn’t always provide an exit ramp from the highway of self-righteousness. What’s worse, the unshakable posture, “I’m right,” will push us full-speed past the line of protecting dignity – ours or another’s.

I was pulled from my guilt-filled musings when my dentist, (a fellow I like very much), came to deliver that always pleasant shot in the jaw from a needle the size of a garden hose. During the injection I did my usual routine – remembered breathing techniques learned in childbirth classes, tried not to lose control of any bodily functions and prayed really, really hard.

After half my face and tongue felt dead, the hygienist began prep work. This process was complicated by my inability to get my tongue out of the way. I tried complying with her request to pull the pesky organ aside. But it simply was not a manageable task. I tried to apologize with words. That, too, was not manageable. I looked up helplessly. The hygienist laughed and said, “I know you’re trying, Hon. But it’s hard to talk to a numb tongue.”

I attempted a nod and smile. Instead I sort of just blinked and drooled at her. She patted my hand and together with the dentist we shared the space for an hour until completion of the procedure.

When I returned home, I sat down with my Bible, which I felt I didn’t have time to read prior to starting the day’s activities. As directed by my favorite devotional booklet, I turned to the Scripture passage of the day. “But no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison,” (James 3:8).

I squirmed in my chair when I realized God was talking directly to me about the previous day’s conflict. It was not only what I said, but how I said it. I was so bent on being right, I didn’t stop to consider that my words were hurtful. My tongue was untamed because it had become unruly and fueled by ego.

I mused about this, pouted a little and did the familiar three-year-old mental shifting from one foot to the other while pleading, “She started it, God. And besides look how everyone is acting right now. We are just so uptight and steeped in unkindness. What do You expect when we live in this world You gave us?”

I knew in my heart this was not going to fly with the Almighty any more than Adam pointing a finger and saying, “Yeah, well it’s all her fault,” got him off the hook for the Eden eviction.

God is very clear that it does not matter how others act, we are responsible for our own behavior. His kids are called to act differently, period. If there was a problem with my friend, He would deal with that. It was not my business.

After some time on the pity pot, I climbed onto my Father’s lap and asked Him to forgive me. I told him I would call the other party and ask her forgiveness too, when I could manage to get words out without sounding like I had just come from the neighborhood bar.

As the injection meds wore off, I was in a considerable amount of pain. The discomfort was not from the dental work sites, but from a bite on my tongue incurred when I couldn’t feel it. Again the Holy One nudged me.

I sat back in my chair with an ice pack on my mouth and shared a giggle (sort of) with God. “Oh, I see. When the tongue is numb it can cause great harm, to me and to others. That’s the poisonous part you talk about in James, right? Okay, I get it, Lord.”

The next day I was able to call my friend and offer an apology for my insensitivity. She accepted my amends and offered one of her own. We agreed to be more mindful of how we communicate in the future. We discussed and recommitted ourselves to our belief that we are never called, as believers, to be silent on important issues. Regardless of belief systems, we still have an obligation to govern our democracy – a blessing that many don’t have around our world. That’s made more difficult if we refuse to learn from others and resist engaging in respectful dialogue because our interest lies in protecting our own rigid stances.

We prayed over the phone and came away reaffirmed that relationships are more important than what one person perceives as right or wrong. After a lengthy conversation, we planned to meet for lunch the next week.

I hung up and returned to the same passage in James 3:8, asking God to help me remember this lesson. He assured me that Scripture, when taken to heart, proves to be the best practice for walking this world. God’s Word helps me speak my truth in love, lend my voice to important issues and respect/learn from other voices. But most of all, it provides a solid model for loving by leading my conversations without a numb tongue.

This was written for all (including this author) who cherish their friends enough to say and accept, “I’m sorry.”

Copyright February 2017, Laura L. Padgett, Author

Illustration by Sally M. Cordrey

Connect with me, Laura Padgett, on Twitter @lauraleepadgett or my Facebook Author Page

Check out the books I have published

“Dolores, Like the River,” available at Westbow Press, Barnes & NobleAmazon and all major online retailers. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the  tab for buying books on my home page

The award-winning “Jesus in Shorts: Twenty-five Shorts Stories of Life-Changing Jesus Moments,” available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If you live in the U.S. and would like an autographed copy sent directly to you, click on the tab for buying books on  my home page