Dream Possible

One of my favorite songs is “The Impossible Dream,” written by Joe Darion and composed by Mitch Leigh. It is the most popular song from the musical “Man of la Mancha.

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go.

To right the unrightable wrong
To be better far than you are
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far…

I love Man of La Mancha. I love “crazy” knight Don Quixote who tilts at windmills and lives to the extreme rather than allowing his dreams and visions to be tamed by society and turned into cookie-cutter realities.

I’ve spent my entire life and writing career encouraging others to reach for their dreams. I will probably spend the rest of my life giving the same advice. Yet, a comment from a neighbor recently made me realize that perhaps our dreams should in some way be possible. For example, I dreamed of being in my drama department’s musical productions at college and becoming a famous singer. I can’t carry a tune.

This neighbor said, “My husband and I dreamed of buying a two-story house and retiring here. We did, but now our knees have gone and our dream has become a nightmare. We can’t get up and down the stairs—and that’s where our bedroom is.”

With God, all things are possible. All things are possible with God. But wisdom may be contained in knowing how to dream the possible and trust God for the impossible.

Mistaken

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For the past two years I’ve seen a lovely child in our neighborhood, and each time I’ve seen her I’ve thought that she would make a stunning character for a book with her striking cobalt blue eyes framed by a sleek curtain of dark smoke-brown hair. Except…her eyes are not blue.

Had I written her in a book, her eyes would have been blue. Had I described her to the police for some reason, her eyes would have been blue. Had I painted a portrait of her from memory, her eyes would have been blue. But they are not blue.

I was shocked recently when I met her and realized that her eyes are an astonishingly deep, dark brown that I’ve never seen in eye color before—almost like dark chocolate, except deep and shining. I actually asked her mother if her eyes had changed color. They hadn’t. It was me. I had been mistaken.

At one time, I did not believe in God. I was every bit as certain that God did not exist as I was that the little girl in our neighborhood had blue eyes. I was mistaken.

God’s name is shouted throughout creation from the seed that grows into a vibrant flower to the stars in the universe. We can plant flowers. We can study flowers. We can engineer new colors and graft fruit trees—but only God can make a seed.

We can build telescopes. We can study stars and planets and name them. But only God can create them.

We can train doctors, and nurses, and scientists, and treat patients for disease or injuries—but only God walking on earth ever defeated death by rising from the dead.

I used to not believe in God. I was mistaken.

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Direct Vision

 

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None of us has direct vision. We all see through a filter of past events and experiences.

When I was four, my mother took me to an optometrist because she thought I couldn’t see clearly. She explained to the doctor, “She doesn’t color between the lines.” I thought to myself, “Oh, that’s what those lines are for.” It wasn’t that I couldn’t see them—it was that I was in love with color and spread my favorites thickly across the pages of coloring books in my own patterns and designs. After I knew about the lines—I used them.

When I was four and boarded a bus with my mother for the first time, I saw black people getting on and exclaimed, “Mom, look at all those poor sunburned people.” My embarrassed mom shushed me for my rudeness, but she didn’t understand. It wasn’t rudeness, it was compassion. I had never seen a person with black skin before. I hurt for them because I thought they were badly burned.

What we see depends on what we’ve seen before. None of us has direct vision.

Recently our collie returned to our local vet time and again dehydrated because she would not eat. Time and again, she was hooked her to a drip and we were assured that she was not too thin, and that perhaps—because she’s a smart dog—she played us, refusing to eat until she got something she liked.

None of the vets understood that Savannah…Would. Not. Eat. They had never seen her walk to her food, sniff it, make a face of human disgust, and walk away.

We finally got an appointment for Savannah at a vet hospital that had the equipment to examine her, and the first thing I heard from the vet was the inevitable, “She’s not a bad weight. Maybe we just need to adjust her food.” Her food has been adjusted so many times that we’ve given away cases and bags of various brands and kinds and still have cases more.

Again the questions. Again the subtle suggestion that I might be the problem because I worried too much. Again, the failure to comprehend the fact that Savannah… Would. Not. Eat.

Then the phone call that made me cry for two reasons. One reason, we have a sick little girl whose condition is chronic with few treatment options. And I am not an obsessed doggy mom who worries to distraction. There are physical reasons for Savannah’s lack of appetite: pancreatitis and an inflamed bowel. A vet finally saw the lines.

I was reminded of a Bible story. When Samuel was ordered by God to ordain a king from Jesse’s family, Jesse brought his sons to Samuel one at a time and God rejected all of them. Samuel asked if Jesse had any more sons. He had one more. David, a young boy who was out in the field with his father’s sheep. David, who later killed a giant with a rock and a slingshot. David who wrote most of the Psalms in the Bible. David, who became King David. David whose earthly lineage leads to Jesus Christ, King of kings and Lord of lords.

When God chose David out of Jesse’s sons, he told Samuel, “The LORD does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

God sees the lines. Sometimes…we don’t.

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Garlic Salt

Savannah at home

My mother—who freely admitted she was no cook—used basically one seasoning in everything she cooked. Seasoning Salt.

Me—who also freely admits that she is no cook—use basically one seasoning in everything I cook. Garlic Salt. It’s a good thing I resort to garlic salt. I’ve never seen seasoning salt here in Scotland.

Because of panic buying due to Covid-19, our store has been out of garlic salt for weeks. So when I found garlic salt today at our store I danced in the aisle. I reminded myself of a character in one of my books.

Life is about celebrating the little things in life.

And remembering to thank God for them. “In everything give thanks.” 1 Thes 5:18

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Long Life

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Recent research proves that people in the U.S. who go to church live longer than those who don’t. No surprise. Psalm 119:50 says, “Your word has given me life.”

Worry, anxiety, and anger shorten lives. Jesus said, “Do not be anxious.” “Do not worry.” “Forgive others.”

Peace is a great life-extender. Philippians 4:7 promises, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Long life is not the reason to love God. The fact that God loves us is the reason to love Him. Every petal on every flower is a reason to praise God. Every day of sunrise and sunset is reason to serve God.

Church isn’t essential to love God—but it is essential to love God.

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Helpless

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She was 82 years old and started out every morning praying, “I am helpless except in you, O Lord.”

Conception P. Manfil lived in a discarded wooden crate someone brought her from a freight train. She had bought property in Kingman, Arizona, sight unseen and moved there when she retired. When she arrived—she found she had bought an empty lot two miles from town. No water. No electricity. No neighbors.

For twenty years, Conception lived in her crate in the desert. Her only visitors were the prairie dogs that came in through her screen door. She shared her food with them.

Every day, Conception walked two miles to the nearest store to get water and carry it back to her house. Then arthritis hit. It was painful to walk and she hobbled—but she kept walking. Her Social Security checks were just a bit over $100 a month. She couldn’t afford transportation.

Every day, Conception prayed, “I am helpless except in you, O Lord.”

One day a salesman from the local newspaper stopped by. “I love your paper,” she told him. “I get it once a month when I have enough money left over from my Social Security at the end of the month to buy it at the store—but I can’t afford a subscription.”

He left. He came back. He asked if he could take some pictures. “I don’t have any money for pictures,” she said.

“It won’t cost you anything,” he said.

An amazing thing happened. A well driller stopped by and drilled a well. An electrician came and installed an electrical connection and lights. People showed up at Conception’s door with groceries, a refrigerator, clothes, a stove, dishes—and more gifts than Conception’s small crate could hold. Then a house builder arrived.

God had sent help to the 82-year-old woman who was helpless except in Him.

Coronavirus or not, God can do the same for us. We are all helpless except in the Lord Who made heaven and earth.

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Works for Me

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My reaction to the Coronavirus is unpopular here in the UK: I’m angry over the mass hysteria and the media who created it, and at the same time, thanking God for sending a message to the entire world—“Hey! This is God. Remember Me?”

God is either in control, or He’s not in control. Prayer either works, or it’s a waste of time. Jesus is either the Healer, or He is not. Common sense like hand washing is common sense. But drastic measures like isolating millions of people is seeking a human solution rather than turning to God—and that’s lunacy.

Not that I have a problem with self-isolation. I’m a hermit. If it weren’t for my stomach and the lack of internet service, I would live in a cave in the desert. But I enjoy good food and writing is my life. I couldn’t exist without it.

My reaction to the Coronavirus is to quote two of my favorite scriptures: “In everything give thanks,” 1 Thessalonians 5:18, and “All things work together for good to those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28.

Oh. And I just released another book. Works for me.

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The Positive in the Negative

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savannah in grass 6 month

With all the hype, fear mongering, and panic buying caused by the Coronavirus, one thing is positive. With prime ministers, Hollywood stars, and sports figures getting cases it underlines human sameness and frailty—and the need for God.

World leaders get Coronavirus. Rich people get it. Famous people get it. No amount of power, riches, or fame stops the Coronavirus.

Same with God.

World leaders need God. Rich people need God. Famous people need God. No amount of power, riches, or fame deletes the human need for God. We all need God.

“Give us help from trouble, for the help of man is useless. Through God we will do valiantly, for it is He who shall tread down our enemies.” Psalm 108:12

“My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. He who keeps you will not slumber. The LORD is your keeper; He shall preserve you from all evil.” Psalm 121

And of course the Psalm so many are quoting now, Psalm 91: “I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him will I trust. Surely He shall deliver you from perilous pestilence. You shall not be afraid.”

Do not fear. Everyone who is reading this survived Y2K.

God is the positive of every negative.

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Not Worried

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I lived through Spanish Influenza when I was four. My sister Leslie and I were so sick with exodus from both ends that we lived in the bathroom.

My horse kicked me in the face. I spent my birthday and Christmas in the hospital. I’ve been thrown from horses. Once our pony bolted, tossed me over his head, and landed on me. Leslie was happy. I protected Smokey from broken legs.

I’ve survived a poisonous snake bite and an attack by an African lion. I ran across a fallen log over a creek not realizing a black bear was under it. I nearly fell into a rattlesnake den when I was hiking. I escaped from growling Texas feral hogs that threatened to attack.

I survived child abuse, rape, and two forced backwoods abortions before I was fifteen—both of which put me in the hospital after I nearly bled to death.

I spent seven years as a single parent working up to three jobs at a time. I traveled from coast to coast in a pickup truck with all my belongings in the bed. My son Luke and I climbed up on top of the mattress on top of the load to sleep at night when we stopped at rest areas. I couldn’t afford a motel.

More recently I underwent major spinal surgery.

I am not afraid of Coronavirus.

While 125,000 babies are being murdered in abortions daily around the world—I refuse to worry about Coronavirus.

There are 365 “Fear Nots” in the Bible, one for every day of the year.

“Because you have made the LORD your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, nor shall any plague come near your dwelling; for He shall give His angels charge over you.” Psalm 91.

Coronavirus does not scare me.

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Victim

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Everyone is a victim in today’s world.
Victims become alcoholics because depression causes them to drink. They become drug addicts because of dysfunctional homes. They become sexually promiscuous because parents didn’t love them. They engage in porn because they have issues with their bodies.
I read a story about a young girl who bashed the police for not taking enough action to prosecute the perpetrator of “revenge porn.” The girl willingly took pictures of herself naked and sent them to a guy she met on the internet, but she said she was a victim because she trusted the guy and he posted her pictures online. The girl was incensed because the police reaction was—you shouldn’t have taken naked pictures of yourself and sent them over electronic media.
Exactly what my mother would have said. My mother wouldn’t have called me a victim—she would have called me stupid.
Common sense says that you are responsible for becoming an alcoholic. You are not a victim unless someone holds you down and pours drink down your throat. Stay away from alcohol. Don’t take that first drink.
Common sense says you are responsible for becoming a drug addict unless someone ties you up and injects you. Stay away from drugs. Don’t take the first hit.
Common sense says if your home life was a disaster, get an education and work to give your children the harmonious home you never had. Put the past behind you and build a future.
Common sense says that if your parents never loved you marry someone who does and lavish your children with love. Lack of discipline spoils children—not love. Put the past behind you and give your family the gift of a great future.
If someone willingly takes pictures of themselves naked and sends them to someone else—that person is foolish, but not a victim. You are only a victim if you are locked into a room or held at gunpoint by someone who takes pictures of you naked—like I was.
I could tweet #MeToo for sex abuse, dysfunctional home, and having issues with my body—but I refuse to become a victim. By the power and strength of Christ Jesus living inside me in the form of the Holy Spirit, I am a victor.
“For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that overcomes the world—our faith.” 1 John 5:4
“But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:57
Victim or victor? The choice is ours.

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