How Irritations Grow

Sometimes the most unexpected people “snap” for the most trivial reasons. I confess that I’ve been guilty of judging people who snapped—harboring thoughts like, “I would never get upset about such a silly thing.” And, yet, now I find myself being judged by a seatbelt.

It’s a silly thing for someone like me who has survived and thrived through hardships including living under a bridge and bathing in a river winter and summer; living in an open-ended greenhouse and piling up bales of hay to block the north wind; getting cheated out of my Texas property; leaving my Texas home for Scotland; having spinal surgery, a hip replacement, and a knee replacement. But for all of that—it’s a seatbelt that bugs me.

The bumps on the seatbelt that keep the clasp from sliding down have vanished. This means the seatbelt clasp falls straight to the floor when it’s released. That might not be a big deal in other cars, but our car is small and so closely constructed that it is impossible to reach down and retrieve the clasp to fasten the seatbelt once the car door is closed. That means opening the door into wind and rain and bending down to reach for it while getting soaked…because Dunoon, Scotland, averages 250 days of rain a year, and only 115 dry days.

My head, face, and right shoulder are soaking wet now as I write this (because drivers in the UK drive on the left side of the road from the right side of their vehicles)…and I am cold, wet, and irritated. Once again a reminder from God to be humble and not to judge others. Irritations grow from the most inane seeds.

“Not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith.” Romans 12:3.

So…I school myself not to grumble—to ignore the seatbelt irritation and instead to be thankful. To give thanks that we have a car. To be thankful that the car is running. To acknowledge that we are blessed in every area of our life including transportation.

And I lift myself up above and beyond any feeling or irritation…until the next time I get in the car and open the door into pelting rain to grab the seatbelt clasp.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Never Changing

More than 2,000 years ago a woman came to Jesus and asked Him to heal her daughter. He replied that He had come to heal the nation of Israel. The woman and her daughter were not Jewish, they were gentiles. The woman replied, “Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.”

Jesus answered, “Great is your faith! Let it be to you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

Crumbs still fall under tables more than 2,000 years later, and Jesus still responds to the cry of faith. He heals, He hears, He blesses, He answers. Even when the prayer is no bigger than one tear, one anguished cry.

“Before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear.” Isaiah 65:24.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

‘Tis a Puzzlement

The clerk says confidently, “I’ll be back in two seconds.” Fifteen minutes later, as the minute hand on your watch advances and the clerk doesn’t, ‘tis a puzzlement. Did the clerk drop from heaven and is, therefore, operating on heaven’s time line?

“Do not forget this one thing, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.” 2 Peter 3:8.

‘Twas a puzzlement about my father who boasted about his 140 IQ, but did stupid things. Like letting his children throw chicken bones to wild alligators even knowing that gators can run at speeds of 35 mph…and children can’t. There were seven of us. Perhaps that explains it. We were dispensable.

Like engaging his 14-year-old daughter—me—to burn down the house for the insurance money when he got into deep financial mire from spending his money on boats that would never touch water; a sports car he couldn’t afford to fill with gas, and a plane that didn’t fly, while his children went to school with worn-out shoes held together with rubber bands, and hand-me-down clothes with holes in them. Perhaps he looked into the future with that 140 IQ and foresaw today’s fashions.

And the lion. Bringing an African lion home as a house pet. True, it was only 150 pounds when it first came—not much heavier than our Great Dane dogs, but Ebenezer quickly grew to 450 pounds and tore apart his expanded metal cage to escape—repeatedly. When Ebenezer escaped, only my oldest brother Gregory (the first one of us to leave this earth for Jesus’ arms) and our local veterinarian could recapture him and get him back into his cage before he brought down one of the horses or terrified neighbors.

And the horses. No one could tell my father anything—because he already knew everything. His 140 IQ, as he reminded everyone. Even as a twelve-year-old, my sister Leslie Garcia had probably read every book that had ever been written about horses. She knew our poor horses lacked proper nutrition and veterinary care, but when she tried to tell our father and he thought she was arguing with him—he jerked her out of bed, shoved her down on the floor and kicked her until she bled.

‘Twas a puzzlement at the time—but I understand now. My father was an atheist. He forbid us to read a Bible or Christian books, to go to Vacation Bible School at the nearby Baptist Church, or to go to any church anywhere. We were also forbidden to sing hymns or Christian songs.

The 140 IQ that my father was so proud of was wasted because there was no wisdom to back it up. “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” Psalm 111:10.

My father did not fear God. He did not believe in God. He wanted to be God. He thought his 140 IQ—an intelligence that God gave him—qualified him as God. “The fool has said in his heart, there is no God.” They are corrupt. They have done abominable works. There is none who does good. Psalm 14:1

There is hope for all of us—even those of us with what the world considers lower IQs. “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. James 1:5.

However…I still haven’t figured out about that vanishing clerk who was coming back in “two seconds.”

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Did You See Me Today?

Did you see me today when I opened up my face to the world? God created me to give you the gifts of wonder and joy. He placed me in your path. So, did you see me today?

Did you see me today when I changed my garments from spring green to a deep summer hue? Did you marvel at how God created me to make that glorious transformation?

Did you see me today when I lined the blades of grass you passed sparkling with all the glory and fire of the world’s most lovely diamond?

God placed me in your life to create joy and wonder. But…did you see me?

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever.” Isaiah 40:8

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Did You See Me Today?

Did you see me today when I opened up my face to the world? God created me to give you the gifts of wonder and joy. He placed me in your path. So, did you see me today?

Did you see me today when I changed my garments from spring green to a deep summer hue? Did you marvel at how God created me to make that glorious transformation?

Did you see me today when I lined the blades of grass you passed sparkling with all the glory and fire of the world’s most lovely diamond?

God placed me in your life to create joy and wonder. But…did you see me?

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but t he word of our God stands forever.” Isaiah 40:8

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

My Dog the Mystery Writer

Everyone thinks (or should think) that their own dog is the best; the prettiest, the smartest, the most talented. I know people who talk to their dogs non-stop when they walk them. Because she’s so smart, I don’t talk to Savannah on our walks. I have a reason.

Esther was my first collie. Son Luke and I were convinced that she was the smartest, most talented dog in the world. We talked to Esther. We prayed with Esther. We sang with Esther. But because she was so smart, talking to Esther backfired. When we did something that displeased her or told her something she didn’t want to hear—she talked back. Loudly.

So Savannah and I take quiet rambles. I allow her to lead and enjoy the sounds of nature. Today when I walked her, I stopped when she stopped to sniff and just stood quietly watching her. That’s when it hit me. I write mystery books. Savannah reads mystery books.

Today she discovered one scent out of all the others that captivated her. She followed it around and around, checking it out from all angles. She zoomed into the center to experience the origin. Then she followed the scent out one direction at a time as if following the threads of a spider web. Savannah loves meeting and greeting everyone—human and animal—but several people passed with their dogs while Savannah focused on the captivating scent to solve the mystery of who or what made it. She was engaged in solving a mystery.

People often ask me where I get the ideas for my books. Without reservation, hesitation, or apology—I answer, “From God.” And God gives me many of these ideas when I’m walking Savannah. Perhaps because the two of us are quiet as we explore, Savannah picks up her mysteries from input through her nose and God whispers the mysteries meant for me into my heart.

Soon-to-be released “The Beard Murders” not only sprang from one of these whispered sessions with God, whenever I found myself stuck as I wrote, I grabbed a leash and took Savannah for a walk. From the characters to the plot to the incidents that pack action into “The Beard Murders, God spoke the details into my heart.

The same with my work-in-progress and three other titles and starts, one set here in Scotland, the other two undecided at the moment. Meanwhile…Savannah sniffs and ferrets out her own mysteries while I stand back and wait for God’s inspiration.

“God willed to make known what are the riches of the glory of this mystery…Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Colossians 1:27.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Soon-to-be Released

Staying Dry in the Rain

Here in Scotland, one can walk in the rain without getting wet. The phenomenon is called Scottish mist, mizzle, smirr—but whatever one calls it—it is delightful. Cars need to use their wipers. The steady rainfall is visible. Yet walkers can pass through it and come out again with dry hair and clothes.

For the rest of my life, I want to walk in the Scottish mist and avoid downpours. I’ve never been at the top of anything. I grew up with two sisters and four brothers, all younger than me, all brilliant, all scholars in school—always on the honor roll, always at the top of their class. Me? My high school average for math is “F.” By some fluke—I did make it into college and even made the Dean’s List a couple of times…until I was forced to take math. I did the logical thing for someone with my prowess in the subject. I quit.

Because of my non-achievement in educational circles I am always staggered when I understand something that seems easy to me, but that other people don’t seem to comprehend.

Recently, I ran across a “news” feature on the internet that was repeated on a “news” broadcast on TV. The subject was: “How Dangerous is On-line Bullying?” The article—and the “news” broadcast went into great detail about how damaging cruel on-line “attacks” are to people, especially teens.

Say what? Talk about much ado over nothing. Unplug.

We suffered no damaging on-line attacks when I was a teen. We were outside playing baseball with friends, riding horses, riding bicycles, walking to visit neighbors, mowing our lawns, helping our parents in the garden, fishing, enjoying being young and alive. Parents didn’t take us places unless it was urgent. Our feet provided transportation. We walked in the mizzle, slipping through our teen years untouched and unscathed by internet content.

The same peace avails us now. Unplug from the internet. Plug into God.

It saddens me to watch teens stroll along the sidewalk, heads bent, looking at their phones. They miss the flowers along the way. No wonder so many people nowadays don’t believe in miracles—they pass by them without ever seeing them because their eyes are glued to their phones.

And the teens’ parents? Heads down looking at their phone screens and ignoring their children, those who walk with them, and the miracles around them.

Getting attacked? Unplug. Walk in the Scottish mist.

There will be problems, struggles, doubts, and uncertainties in this life. We live in a fallen world of vicious storms and battering circumstances, but this world is not our home. We are pilgrims, passing through this world to the next—heaven—where nothing grows old and there is no more sickness, hurting, sorrow, parting, or death. We are on a fantastic journey. Why choose to allow something like inane on-line content steal our joy? Unplug.

Walk in the Scottish mist and take time to experience the miracles God has placed along the path.

God wants to give us “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” Isaiah 61:3. He wants to take us through this world to our home without letting the smirr turn into a downpour that drowns our spirits.

It’s simple. Unplug from people and plug into God.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Miracles? Here are Thousands of Them

Don’t believe in miracles? Get a packet of dry, dead flower seeds and plant them. By the time the first bloom opens, your faith in miracles will be restored. How can a dry, crumbly seed rise up on a green stalk and then open up to flaunt its color and beauty? God placed the secret of life in the dry, dead-looking seed. It’s a miracle.

The birth of a child. A miracle.

Changing seasons. Miracles.

Sun. A miracle.

Rain. A miracle.

Every breath. A miracle.

I have witnessed astounding miracles. I have been the recipient of astounding miracles of healing and provision. But the greatest miracles in my life are the small ones. There are thousands of them.

“God worked unusual miracles…” Acts 19:11. And He still does.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Marketing Midges

Achilles, the greatest of the Greek warriors in mythology and the hero of the Trojan War was defeated by a weakness in his heel. The term “Achilles heel” is used even today to refer to an otherwise strong person’s weakness.

Scots can be thankful that midges have an Achilles heel. Midges are small, nearly invisible flying insects that bite and irritate people and animals. Irritate relentlessly.
They fall in blinding clouds making life a misery. It is impossible to have a friendly blether (chat) with friends and neighbors on summer walks—because if one stands still—the horrible biting creatures descend. They get everywhere—even under woolly hats and up sleeves.

Thankfully, midges have am Achilles heel. They can be outdistanced if one walks quickly enough. They fly slowly. This gave me the idea of marketing midges. Just think: if midges can be caught, stored in boxes, and exported to other countries to stop political unrest—everyone wins. Open up the boxes, release the midges and the midge-miserable dissenters flee. This won’t restrict freedom of speech, but it will disperse fractious crowds. Meanwhile, capturing and shipping midges will build a new industry giving Scotland a venue for employment. It will boost the Scottish economy.

God looked down on His creation and proclaimed everything He made was good. Therefore, I think that scorpions, fire ants, and midges must have been introduced by God’s enemy. Satan must have emptied out some of the ugly, hurtful creatures from hell on earth in defiance after God threw him out of heaven for his treachery and rebellion. But whatever the devil does to make our lives miserable on a daily basis—God can take the worst and turn it around to use for our good.

Marketing midges could bring peace to protests by sending protestors fleeing from their obdurate stands to get away from the tiny tormentors.

If God’s promise from the Bible is true—and I know it is—“All things work together for good to those who love the Lord,” why shouldn’t the scourge of Scottish midges be turned into something profitable and good?

It’s an idea, that.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

Allow Them Their Sight

Because I used to consider myself an artist—before I realized that I was a “copyist,” not an artist—and because I’ve spent most of my adult life painting signs, I have a highly developed sense of colors.

For years I’ve been flummoxed by folks who call orange “yellow” or green “blue.” And how can anyone survey rows of lavender flowers and call them “blue,” instead of purple? Fortunately, I am learning. I am slowly realizing that I have no right to assign to others the task of seeing colors the same way I do. God created them. He created their eyes. Their cones—the part of our eyes that sees color—may be different than mine. My task is to allow them their sight.

With my husband hospitalized, my brother-in-law and I have been spending a large amount of time together. No matter what our conversation, he responds, “Oh, I see.” But clearly—he doesn’t. At least, he doesn’t see the way I see because he misses the point I was attempting to make entirely and draws a totally different conclusion. At first it irritated me because I was endeavoring to explain things so clearly and concisely, and he would respond, “Oh, I see,” and trot out an entirely different scenario.

I am gradually learning to allow him his sight. His life experiences have colored his understanding a different color than my life experiences have colored my understanding.

Some things are without question right and some things are without question wrong. These things are worth fighting for or against and upholding as a standard. God wants that. But God has no interest in which hue on the color chart becomes orange instead of yellow, or green instead of blue. He created all colors.

God created us and gave us free choice. If God allows us to experience life through the color chart that He assigns for us—why should we expect others to walk in our chart instead of the one that God destined for them?

Our task is to allow others their sight.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” 2 Corinthians 5:7

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update