The Dandelion

This morning being Saturday, I was awakened not by the alarm clock but by the sun shining through the window onto my bed. As our little Simone shifted from where she lay sleeping by my feet to better capture some of the sun's rays on her fur, something in which she delights, she unintentionally nudged me awake. Opening my eyes, I caught sight of, then focused on, a newly blooming dandelion. Ah, the dandelion!

Consider the dandelion: most gardeners work out to remove it from lawns and wherever else it may grow. (It likes to grow and spreads readily, as we all know.) We don't really welcome the dandelion.

Think, however, of the dandelion from a more positive point of view. The dandelion is a perennial; it always returns. Its long, lance-like leaves are toothed; hence, the name (Old French: dent-de-lion, or tooth of the lion). Now, that is some protection from those who would weed it out, literally. While we have generally developed a negative attitude toward the tooth of the lion, that tooth provides us with so much, not the least of which is an example of how God has fashioned nature to provide for all needs.

Beauty, nurture for the aesthetic part of us. Yes, though we may not welcome the dandelion, most of us do find it pretty.

Alimentation, nurture for the physical part of us. The leaves can add special flavor to our salads or be cooked as greens, like spinach, for a vegetable meal. The root, too, can feed us like any other tubular root. Then, of course, there is dandelion wine that provides just a tad more to our diet than simple alimentation. Dandelions are good for our health and have more vitamins and nutrients than any cultivated plant: betacarotene, calcium, iron, vitamins B, vitamin C, vitamin D, vitamin E, vitamin P, potassium, phosphorus, magnesium, insulin, and zinc. It improves the functioning of the liver, kidneys, spleen, stomach, pancreas, bladder, and intestings. Dandelion tea, here I come!

The tenacity of the dandelion bespeaks its delicateness. Those little white flying feathers that are left over when the yellow is gone scatter everywhere on the wings of the wind to share the next generation of dandelions with neighbors and owners alike.

Nature is, indeed, awesome. The multiple uses of the plants that God has given to us, as I described a while back in a post on the walnut tree at our previous residence, continues to amaze me!

Going to the Ball

As I emulate Cinderella and head off to this year's ball, I will leave a post for the sharing in my absence. First, let me say that I am not the ball type. I would rather be hiking mountains than sipping tea. But, I do not always get to choose. As one of the more visible leaders of our organization (combination of high post and big mouth), I cannot ditch the annual ball, much as I would like to.

Last year I wrote a post that garnered a fair amount of comments and discussion about my dilemma in what to wear. (I had actually been able to avoid earlier balls for acceptable reasons, but I had no acceptable reason last year, and so I appeared upon demand.) I could not bring myself to spend hundreds (or dozens) of dollars on the required attire: tuxedo or gown. There was so much more I could do of value with that kind of money, and there was also that Franciscan vow of poverty. So, I decided to wear a dress from Jordan that I had purchased there for $5 and that would look dressy in the USA although I had some serious doubts when I arrived and started to mix in among the tuxedos and ball gowns. (You can read the post here: VIP or VOP or Both? It includes a larger discussion of the decision-making process and results).

The most evident result was the reputation I gained by wearing ethnic dress. Everyone who did not attend the ball heard about it. This year, a few weeks ago, several people who had been to their home countries in the last few months brought me local dresses, asking me to wear them in honor of their culture. (I ensured that they had bought them for $25 or less, the ethical limit our organization places on gifts from employees to supervisors.) I understood the intent. They were not bribes; they just wanted to feel that their senior supervisor respected and even liked their cultures. Of course, I do. I have been to most of their countries and speak most of their languages. Wherever I am, I try to blend and often succeed. I felt honored by the requests. The situation, however, contains its own dilemma: which of the six ethnic dresses and four ethnic shawls should I wear?

Actually, I have decided on none of them. I will wear that $5 Jordanian dress again. Then, I will find other occasions to honor all those who have requested it through the gift of their ethnic attire.

Interestingly, I may have started something. This year's ball announcement again listed tuxedos and gowns as acceptable attire but added "or culturally appropriate attire." Never think that one person cannot create change!

[Note: Image above drawn by Tom Dubois -- click here to see more of his beautiful art work, which is for sale.]

The Ticket

On Monday, one of the members in my prayer group told me of someone, a certain Jose, who has been mostly unemployed this year, who needed a plane ticket for Texas (from California) this coming weekend! I have offered my frequent flyers miles from time to time, but this time would be quite a challenge. It is a holiday weekend, and it was a last-minute ticket. I knew I would not have been asked had it not been important, but could the airlines help?

I called the Premier Executive line for United's elite flyers. The agent on the other end was very pleasant. She found one flight only from San Jose and one flight from San Francisco. Then she volunteered that both required the same number of FF miles; however, for those miles the flight from San Jose was first class and left a tad bit later although still very early in the morning and the one from San Francisco was economy and really early. Well, that was a no-brainer, especially since San Jose is the closer airport.

The agent patiently entered all the "gift" information for Jose and sent him a copy of the itinerary. Then she charged me the required $35 for the telephonic, last-minute transaction. I used God's credit card to pay for it.

Later, my friend called and said that Jose had noticed the charge on the itinerary. Should she pay it, she asked, or would he be charged at the airport. Neither, I explained. I had used God's credit card to pay for it, and I was certain that the money would appear before the card payment was due.

Then I settled down to work on bills since it was pay day. As I worked through the budget, I found a $35 bill that I had planned to pay this pay day but for some reason that I had not caught, it was already paid! I think it is fair to count those found dollars as payment for the $35 I owe on God's credit card.

My only comment: well, that did not take long! I think my friend Omar is correct -- God spoils me in not making me wait!

Oh, and one other comment: I love having this credit card; it has given me many opportunities to help people that I could not otherwise have done!

Monday Morning Meditation #44: When God Requires Something from Us, He Always Provides the Resources

Well, I continued on last week, but I was unable to post anything. Many apologies if you came here, looking for the MMM. The Internet went down in the hotel where we were staying, and we had to check out for our trip back to California from Ohio before the Internet went back up. So, my MMM was an alone time. This week, I finished reading I Chronicles. At the very end, my eye and mind caught onto the story of Solomon being selected for the task of building a temple for the Ark of the Covenant and Solomon being young and inexperienced. Solomon did not have the skills or resources for the task. David, knowing this, gave splendidly to the building of the temple. Yet, it was not enough. So, he turned to the people and asked the people of Israel, upon which "the leaders of families, the officers of the tribes of Israel, the commanders of thousands and commanders of hundreds, and the officials in charge of the king's work gave willingly."

Reading: I Chronicles 29: 1-9.

Meditation: I have noticed as I read through various Bible stories that God appears to have a habit of picking the most unlikely people to carry out his missions and tasks. They are often people without any desire to have the task and/or lacking skills for the task. They are also often people who lack the resources for the task. That is where trust comes into the picture.

I have been asked on several occasions to perform a task or give support to an undertaking. I have written about several of them in my various blogs. With tasks, I have usually felt that I lacked the skills, as in when I was told to take on a modern-day Goliath or to write a tome. I even usually argue with God initially, but we all know where those kinds of arguments have historically ended. So, I don't know why I react that way. My second "initial" reaction is to comply. Over time, I have stopped worrying about whether I have the resources, knowledge, or skills for the task because each time all of those things, as needed, have always appeared.

The appearance of resources, especially, has been marvelous to observe: one modern story of the fishes and loaves after another. For example, a remarkable example, I was asked to contribute to the rebuilding of our local St. Francis Retreat Center, which had burned down as a result of old, faulty wiring. For its director, Fr. Terry, rebuilding the center was reminiscent of what Solomon experienced in building the temple except that Solomon was too young for this sort of thing and at 80+ one would think that Fr. Terry might be a tad old for it -- unless you know him. There was no money for this, but the money came from all over. I had been making a small but regular contribution, simply turning over my book royalties to the center, when Fr. Terry, somewhat reluctantly and at the urging of the fund-raising committee, asked me if I could make a pledge, as opposed to regular donations. That way, a local bank would lend the funds upfront. Now, a pledge is a commitment; donations are not. So, I prayed about it, and I prayed about the amount. Into my hands at that point fell a note that there were still no funds for the kitchen, which cost close to half my annual salary. I could not believe that God would really want me to commit to this amount of money, but it became clear that He did. So, I did, relying on Him to find the money for me. The pledge clearly shocked both Fr. Terry and the fund-raising committee because they do know I do not have that kind of money, not now and not spread out over the five years of the pledge period. I have not worried, however, because where God asks something of me, He always provides the resources. This instance is no different. Extra money has fallen into my hands from higher royalties than anticipated from my various books, a large return on my taxes, per diem that I have not needed on business travel, merit pay bonuses, and, finally, overwhelmingly surprising to me, a whopping 125% pay raise that has more than covered the pledge amount, which will allow me to pay off the pledge in considerably less than five years. Yes, indeed, when God requires something, He will for sure provide the resources needed. We have no need to fear or worry -- and I don't.

That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must retire to private prayer to thank God for always, always providing for me, to praise Him for the marvelous surprises He provides for me in that respect, to repent for each time that it took a second initial response (and not a first and immediate response) for me to acquiesce to whatever task God has set before me (Why, oh why, am I so contrary at times?), and to ask Him never to give up on asking me and tasking me in spite of my contrariness because deep down I am always willing to take on the tasking (I suppose God knows that). Now I retire to spend as much time as I can in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem

The story below has run around the Internet for some time. The author, as far as I know, is unknown. Still, the story is worth the telling.

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem."

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel, "How could you have let this happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him," he accused. "The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die."

"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied. "When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it. Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem."

Similarly, God's answers to our prayers and the ways in which God provides for us may seem obtuse to us at the moment that they occur. (See, for example, the total misunderstanding of God's seeming inaction when a farm couple encountered difficulties, recorded in the short story, "When All Disappears.") In the long run, when the future unveils that which we do not know at the moment, we find that no matter what we had prayed for or hoped for, in the final analysis God knew best!

Yes, this is my 100th post on this site!

The Walnut Tree: An Example of God's Bounty

"Under the spreading walnut tree..." Oh, wait, that is a chestnut tree, and underneath is supposed to be the village smithy from a bygone era. Well, not entirely bygone, except for the smithy, since we do have a spreading tree (walnut type) that hovers over our back deck.

Right now our grand walnut tree is dropping its harvest of walnuts all over our deck and back yard so rapidly that Donnie and I can barely keep up. We have given bags of walnuts away to friends. We have a huge bowl of them, all shelled, for visitors, and in the utility room, waiting to be shelled (or is that husked -- what do you call it with walnuts?), a full pail of them. A feast awaits us, it seems, yet every day more bounty drops onto us from above.

Not to worry, the squirrels know all about the walnuts. One, in particular, has made our home his home, and he shows up every day to gather in as much as he can carry off at one time for winter storage. (Even though California does not really see winter, the squirrels follow their storage programming even here.)

Then there are the California jays. They showed up a few days after the squirrels, who do continue to come, of course. While there are nuts, there are likely to be squirrels. The jays snap the twig holding the nuts still on the branches and carry each individual nut high up above the nearby sidewalk, then drop it on the sidewalk below. The nut cracks open, and the jay swoops down, gathering the meat.

The crows found out about the harvest a little late, but they do the same now -- and sometimes there is a jay-crow contest that we get to watch. Hey, it's a lot better than watching boxing on television and about the same ferocity. Fortunately, there are enough walnuts to go around, so both jays and crows win once they move from envy and fighting to gathering their gold.

Even the little hummingbirds benefit from the grace of the walnut tree. We hung a feeder on one of the branches now that the summer flowers are disappearing, leaving only a handful of winter flowers. The hummingbirds are happy to line up to dip their beaks into the sweet nectar offered by the walnut tree.

So many benefits from one tree: people, squirrels, and birds of all types. It reminds me of the passage in the Bible that says God provides for us just like He provides for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field -- and I would add the squirrels, too. ("Therefore, I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink...Look at the birds of the air for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?...Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of them." Matthew 6:25-27) In my back yard, God provides for me and my extended family (that includes all the animals and fowl, of course) with one single tree.

As I look at the walnut tree, I think of the $1.3M bill Shane got for the first set of medical operations for Nikolina. I do not worry. God provides. I think of some aspects of my job, which Lizzie describes as flying on rickety planes to dangerous parts of the world with no money in my pocket. I do not worry. God provides. I had no money for a ball gown, but God provided an ethnic dress that brought admiration and affection. I perhaps overpledged for a good cause. I am not worried. I know God will provide for God always has. I just look at the walnut tree and see immediately how wonderfully God provides for every living creature, including my family and me.

Monday Morning Meditation #15: We Want What We Want, and It Is More Than We Have

Last Monday I finished Leviticus, and ironically yesterday a new follower, Dee, wrote about the importance of Leviticus in her life on one of my other blogs, Modern Mysticism. One day, based on her comments, I will go back and look at Leviticus more closely. For now, though, I am buried in Numbers, which, I found out, has nothing to do with math but with such things as counting people (the first census!) for the purpose of drafting males for war. (I had no idea that this practice has existed for centuries and was begun by God! That is wild!) So much else that I thought was modern appears to have roots dozens of centuries ago, actions that are enumerated in Numbers: the beginning of the priesthood (a very literal calling of the Levites, the offspring of Aaron), continuation of rules for living (e.g., the exclusion of lepers that continued well past the time of St. Francis), and the concept of sin-contrition-confession-penance. However, none of these practices, as curiously satisfying as it was to learn their origins, struck me nearly as strongly as did the complaints of the people against God for giving them only manna: "And the mixed multitude that was among them fell a lusting; and the children of Israel also wept on their part, and said: 'Would that we were given flesh to eat! We remember the fish, which we were wont to eat in Egypt for nought; the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic; but now our soul is dried away; there is nothing at all; we have nought save this manna to look to.'"

Readings: Numbers 11:4-6.

Meditation: I wonder how often we look God's gift horses in the mouth, so to speak. Manna was a great gift, a wonderful food, but once surfeited with it, the people wanted more. Don't we tend to do the same kind of thing today? We begin, for example, with a starter house, knowing that we are not going to be satisfied with that, knowing that we are going to want more, before we even fully experience what we have. We want upgrades on plane flights. We want to kingsize our meals (which is not even healthy and often results in having to kingsize our clothes). We carefully plan to keep our families small so that all our children can have more, whether or not they truly need more. Somewhere once upon a time I read that my children's toys -- pots and pans and the like -- are better at facilitating the development of creativity than all those fancy toys I could never afford. At any rate, my kids never complained, grew up to be creative adults, and do not overindulge their kids, which makes me think that all those extra things and multiple gifts -- we never gave more than one gift to each child at Christmas -- were not necessary in the long run. One year we had no money at all for Christmas gifts, so Donnie used his graphic arts skills to make a book of coupons for each child. Each coupon was good for a special activity to be done together with Mom or Dad, e.g., a trip to the zoo, a couple hours of playing together in the park, a tete-a-tete dinner at McDonald's, the opportunity to cook dinner together with Donnie (I could not help much with that -- as Doah wrote in his book about me: "Mommy is a very nice Mommy, but she is a very bad cook"), and so on. They had 12 months to redeem their coupons. All were redeemed over time, spreading Christmas over a whole year. The kids remember that incredibly impoverished Christmas as their favorite.

Today our children are grown. We had a lot of them because ones we did not birth kept appearing at our door, growing the Mahlou clan, whether or not we could responsibly afford to do so. We had little money, but we had a lot of love. I would rather have it that way than the other way around. As for affording them, whenever God put another one in front of us, God gave us the wherewithall to help that one, including, in one case, sending us a billionaire to cover a million-dollar medical bill for a child from Siberia. Looking back on it, all we ever had was manna, but manna was enough. I would not trade it for all the rice in China or, for that matter, all the baklava in Greece.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to keep on sending me His manna for it indeed is my favorite food, to repent for times that I may have drooled over an American apple pie that I did not need and that would not really bring me either happiness or health, to give thanks for all the ways in which God takes care of me and mine every day, and to offer praise for the ways in which He manages to orchestrate caring for all the needs of everyone in the world who will go to Him to ask and even often of those who don't know to ask or won't ask, just because He is merciful.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to any new understanding with which He is willing to bless me and, if nothing else, then welcoming nothing but His presence. The sheer joy of His presence surpasses any other happiness I have ever experienced.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the right-hand side of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a week enriched by the eating of God's manna. May you be blessed by the way in which He cares for you.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about the message of Exodus 35-57 and Leviticus or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Feel free to copy the image of the mission church; maybe some time in the near future my Internet-inept self will be able to figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons, but to date I remain incompetent at the more sophisticated blog stuff. Yes, I know it has been 14 weeks, but I am exceptionally computer-inept. In the interim, you are welcome to use the image and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.

V. I. P. or V.O.P or Both?

How does a VIP (Very Important Person) take a VOP (Vow of Poverty)? This troubling non-equation plagues me on some rare occasions. Take Saturday night, for example. Our organization was having a formal ball. And "ball" was the appropriate title for that event, the required attire being tuxedos for men and gowns for women. Now, being a VIP in our organization (by position, not necessarily by self-view) meant that I could not avoid attending the ball, and indeed my VIP-ness evidenced itself several times throughout the evening by what I was called upon to do and where I was required to sit. That is the work side of me.

The spiritual side of me is quite different. Usually that different spiritual side, with God's help and guidance, splashes out around me at work. I am a secular Franciscan (well, almost -- I have not yet professed but am entering my third year of candidacy), and as such I tend to follow St. Francis's model of giving away what I have and making do with very little. After all, I don't really need much now that the kids are grown. I do not feel compelled to live this way; I feel impelled to do so. It brings me great happiness to use my fairly decent salary (albeit less than it might be if I were not living in the "Land of Splat!") to help those who have no salary at all, to pay off God's credit card, and to contribute to divine projects such as rebuilding the St. Francis Retreat. Splurging on a fancy ball gown that I would wear only once, then, did not fit with my truly Franciscan lifestyle that, alas, at times conflicts with my truly secular life. I did not want to buy a gown; I wanted the gown money to help my kids with their medical bills, the orphans of Kaluga or Liberia with finding care and perhaps even homes, the children of Palomar with getting a school, the young mother in need of a home, the foreign handicapped child in need of an American doctor, and the strangers passing through my life in need of food. I find far more pleasure in helping them than in looking at a pretty dress. But this was a ball! And it was for my office where I was supposed to be some kind of role model!

I did have an alternative -- or so I thought. Since our foreign nationals were allowed, indeed encouraged, to wear their national dress, I figured that perhaps the Arabs would allow me to claim their ethnicity for a night since I had lived in Jordan for more than two years as a resident (equivalent to a green card holder in the USA). After all, on more than one occasion I had gotten away with wearing a pretty Arabic dress for a dress-up event. So, I donned a Jordanian dishdasha hashemiya (the kind of dress in the picture above) and, like Cinderella, left for the ball.

Yes, like Cinderella. Except for one thing -- no ball gown! The closer I approached the ball on my 45-minute drive there, the more concerned I became that I would be sitting at or near the head table where everyone would have on their fancy tuxes and gorgeous gowns, and there I would be in a pretty but everyday dress that I had picked up for $7.50 (yes, the period is in the right place) on the streets of Aqaba from a shopkeeper whose wife had probably done the hand embroidery. I started to squirm, well, at least, emotionally. What would people think? If I were sitting with the rank-and-file, it would be one thing, but at the head table in a Arabic dress, not a gown, and, in fact, in a dress that even the poorest of people in the Middle East could afford and would typically wear? What was I thinking? I could have afforded to buy a beautiful gown to show off for my employees and superiors. How dumb to have put my last dollar for this month in the church collection plate for this week's cause! If people who worked for me deserved to look pretty, so did I!

I was still squirming when I reached the ballroom. I should not have been. All my Arab national employees flocked to me, pleased as punch that I would dress as one of them. They wanted my picture taken with them. They introduced me to friends who had come with them. The other nationalities suggested that next time it was their turn to be so honored, that I should don their native attire. (I think I will -- I have some dresses from Russia, Uzbekistan, Brazil, and Turkmenistan in my closet, all of them gifts from friends and colleagues with whom I worked in those countries.) Needless to say, I enjoyed my gownless ball experience very much.

Driving home, I realized that my thoughts during the earlier drive to the ball had dramatically illustrated some Biblical precepts, like the man who asked Jesus what it would take to get to Heaven and to whom Jesus responded that he should give everything away and follow him (whether taken literally or figuratively, I was on the wrong side of that equation on my way to the ball). And how about that camel that could make it through an eye of a needle easier than a rich man can make it to Heaven? Well, thank God, I am not rich! But I was acting like it on the way in. Really, who cares what others think about what I am wearing physically? Is it not more important what I am wearing spiritually? Is not the armor of God far preferable to a pretty ball gown? I may have questioned that on the way to the ball but certainly not on the way from the ball.

God taught me a lesson that night about who is important, who is really a VIP. No VIP of God's was at the ball that night (at least, none that I was aware of, there being much of which none of us are aware). He also taught me a lesson about what is important. Certainly, not a gown.

God gives me everything I need. If I had needed a ball gown, He would have given me one. Instead, He showed me that my simple Jordanian dress was sufficient, just as His grace is sufficient. So, any dollars I have, extra or not, belong to God. Deep down, I think I knew that on the way to the ball, too. Just sometimes, God has to reach down and clunk me on the head again so that I remember just what kind of role model I am really supposed to be.

Monday Morning Meditation #14: And They Did As the Lord Commanded

All the (many) chapters I read this week from Exodus and Leviticus had to do with rules for living and worshipping, ranging from childbirth, circumcision, food, and cleansing, to tabernacle design and ways of making offerings. They seem intended for a different time although I know that at least Orthodox Jews follow these instructions carefully even today. Perhaps some day God will send someone to explain to me in what way these rules should be meaningful to me. Quite meaningful, however, was the frequent repetition of one phrase in various versions: "they did as the Lord commanded," "Moses did as God commanded," and so on. Whenever God gives Moses a reason for obedience, it is always some version of "because I am the Lord." It is sort of like a parent saying, "Do it because I told you to." In return, God promises the Israelites, whom He alternately refers to as His people and His servants, that if they obey His commandments, He will provide for all their needs. Further, and more excitingly, He says that He will be with them. ("And I will walk among you and will be your God, and ye shall be My people." Leviticus 26:12)

Reading: Exodus 35-40 and Leviticus.

Meditation: The specific rules aside, what all these passages taken in aggregate say to me is that we are to obey God, without question, in all things for one reason alone: He is God. I assume that since God opened His arms to non-Jews, then we, too, are both His servants and, if we love and obey Him, His people and that His promise to walk among us and provide for us if we obey Him works for us, too.

On a personal level, I have experienced both the requirement and the promise. God has given me a number of taskings, some of them quite difficult. The most difficult, however, was to call my mother. I was angry when I heard the words, "Call your mother."

I did not want to do that. I had not spoken to her for ten years. Asking me to call her seemed terribly unfair. She had been highly abusive to her eight children physically, the details of which I chronicled in my book, Blest Atheist, and when those children became adults, the abuse just changed into emotional abuse. Several of them caught her beating their children (her grandchildren) and ended up sending her away from their homes. Most of my siblings were not speaking to her at the time of my tasking.

I have no idea why God wanted me to call Ma, but while I at first argued, in the long run (it was not that much of a long run -- it took me about a week to find the number and make the call), I put aside my anger, put on my "ruthless trust" (to use Brendan Manning's term to describe The Ragamuffin's Path to God), and did it. I did it for the sole reason that God required it of me. (Explaining that to my mother was rather interesting, to say the least.)

First, I had to track down Ma's phone number. Since nearly no one was talking to her, it took some time to do that. Once I had retrieved the phone number, I still hesitated. I did not know what to say! What would you say to someone to whom you had not spoken for ten years? "How can I call her?" I asked God. "I have no idea what to say!"

A very quiet one word wafted through my mind, indicating an action that had not occurred to me: "Listen." Of course! I could listen. And that is what I did. I listened. For over an hour, I listened -- to a voice full of curiosity, eagerness to relate a decade of happenings, and elation. Perhaps that is about as close as Ma can get to love.

I still do not completely understand the tasking to call Ma. Nor can I directly track any one blessing -- I have received so many! -- to the act of calling her. The only thing I can say is that I "did as the Lord commanded," and I am glad I did so for no other reason than that He is Lord. I love being His servant and hope that one day He will say that I am one of His people.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to keep on tasking me for His taskings ultimately bring me great satisfaction, to repent for all the taskings I have missed or done poorly, to give thanks for all the ways in which God has indeed provided for me, and to offer praise for the ways in which He orders my world.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, open to any "walking" together with which He is willing to bless me. The joy of His presence surpasses any other happiness I have ever experienced.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of inspirational blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the right-hand side of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a week enriched by the presence of God. May you be blessed by opportunities to do His bidding, and may you do that well.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about the message of Exodus 35-57 and Leviticus or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Feel free to copy the image of the mission church; maybe some time in the near future my Internet-inept self will be able to figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons, but to date I remain incompetent at the more sophisticated blog stuff. Yes, I know it has been 14 weeks, but I am exceptionally computer-inept. In the interim, you are welcome to use the image and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.

God's Credit Card

note: image copyright Katrin Wegmann (www.katrinwegmann.de)

I imagine the title of this particular posting sounds a bit odd, but perhaps a little explanation will make it seem more reasonable. Several months ago, I blohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifgged about a nagging little concern that I had in the case of people asking for handouts in a post called, "The Art of Panhandling and the Act of Giving." My concern at that time was the thought of giving to people who did not really need the money or to people who were going to use it to make their condition worse (e.g., buying alcohol with it). Over time, both from bloggers' comments to that post and my subsequent reading and discussion with others, I have come to the conclusion that true giving is separated from dictating what a person does with the gift. So, that dilemma for me has been resolved.

There arose another dilemma, though. I do not carry money with me very often because I have so often been mugged and I do not need to because we are a plastic society, pretty much worldwide these days. So, when a panhandler or a person clearly in need has crossed my path, I have often not been able to help (although I would have otherwise been in a position to help). And so, I would ask God to give me another chance to help -- and I would blow it again because once again I would have only plastic with me. And then I would ask for another chance and blow that one and on and on.

On one of those occasions when I was apologizing for losing yet another opportunity to help one of God's people in need and "explaining" (obviously, a superfluous act) that given my plastic-only habit, I am not in much of a position to help anyone, into my head popped the concept that God can use plastic, too. And so I got God a credit card.

It was one of those card offers for a small credit line: $500. One can, with time, increase it as the bank and the customer build a relationship, but $500 seems to be quite an appropriate limit. I never end up putting that much on the card, and with that limit I cannot possibly get in over my head, at least not for long. Nothttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif that this could possibly be a worry because God always provides for me in such cases. So, God and I have this deal now. I reserve this card for His purposes. When He puts someone in need in my path, I pay with His card. (Of course, I can use my other cards, too, but they are usually maxed out, so having a card exclusively for God's purposes is very helpful.)

Here are a couple of recent examples of how God has used His card:

(1) I met a man in the parking lot of our local grocery store. He was on his way from Ohio to southern California to move in with his daughter, his luck having run out in Ohio. He was traveling by motorcycle, which requires less gas, and he had enough gas to make it to where he was going, but he had run out of food money the day before and was hungry. He asked for a couple of dollars for a doughnut and coffee. He thought that would carry him through the remaining six hours of his trip. I told him I had no cash but I did have a "special" credit card and if he would pick out what he wanted, not limited to a doughnut and coffee, for lunch and for the road, I would pay for it. So, he did, very judiciously. At the same time, I picked up some strawberries for dessert for dinner for Donnie and me. They were on sale: buy one, get one free. (This kind of surprising sale, just at the right moment, happens so regularly now that I would be surprised if it did not happen.) So, I gave the free strawberries to the hungry man; obviously, the sale was intended for him. As for paying off the credit card bill, the amount was so minor that it was no problem at all; I was able to include it in our food budget for the month without crimping our style, simple as our style tends to be.

(2) A couple of nights ago, about the time that the town was rolling up its sidewalks, I dashed to the grocery store to pick up some supper, our food supplies having become somewhat depleted while I was traveling. There, a young couple came up to me, the girl crying, saying that they were completely out of gas, no one would help them out, and that they were only two hours away from their destination. They looked younger than my kids, and it turns out that they were only 19, traveling across country for the first time to see some childhood friends. They begged for just one gallon of gas, enough to get to a town with more people where they might be able to get more aggregate help. I told them that I had no cash and explained about my special credit card. Asking them to follow me to our only gas station, I used the credit card to fill up their tank. They were ever so grateful -- and extremely relieved. The cost? $36. The next day, one of our church members saw me at daily mass (only when I am in town and can get off work, I go, so it is not all that often, unfortunately). This church member told me that she really needed two copies of my book immediately. (I keep 8-10 books on hand at all times, just in case, and I get them at author's discount.) Once she had paid me for the books and I had ordered the replacements at author's discount, my "profit" was exactly $36, just enough to pay the credit card bill.

So, I ask you: Is there any doubt that God is using "His" credit card?

Monday Morning Meditation #10: A Tendency to Whine

Back in the land of the living (many thanks to all for their prayers and to God for His kindness), I have forged forward in the book of Exodus to the point where the Israelites, with the help of God, have left their Egyptian bondage, crossed the Red Sea, and are now living in the wilderness. And now, being in the wilderness, what is the first thing they do? Start complaining! Where will we get something to drink?, How will we eat? they ask. God provides them with water, manna, and quail, but in some quarters the complaints continue.

Reading: Exodus 15-17

Meditation: Having lived in that same wilderness a few years ago, spending time with a Bedouin family, eating what the family ate -- goat, sleeping where the family slept -- on the sand, sheltering with what the family sheltered -- a marvelously protective goat-hair tent -- I can understand the concern of the Israelites. Surrounded by sand, with an occasional plant (Now how did that get there?), and some deep dry channels where the spring runoff had long since passed through the sand dunes, one might indeed wonder where survival would come from. However, the Bedouin do survive. Donnie and I did survive right along with them. (Of course, today there are more options about how one survives.) Each time the Israelites whined, God provided, as He still does today when we whine and even when we do not.

What is there in our human nature that replaces what should be an attitude of gratitude for what God has done and does do for us with whimpering and whining for what we would like to have that is more or bigger or better or shinier or more expensive or more glittery? Why is it so difficult to be happy with what we have, which, in many cases, is more than many other people have, especially if we look at the poorest of the poor on this planet?

When "bad" things happen, why do we ask "Why me?" Should we not instead be asking "Why not me?" Ironically, even as an atheist, I never asked "Why me?" when it came to our children's birth defects. Somehow I knew that united gene pools can sometimes produce less than optimum results, and that is just a fact of life. More important, always, was the question "How do we live with this?" or "How do we fix it?" or "How do we at least make it somewhat better?"

If we can accept whatever lot we have in life, without whining, without telling God what it is we want Him to do for us, and instead abide in Him and see what He can and will do to make all things come together for our good, I think we will be very surprised by God's creativity in turning bad to good, into giving us far more than we would have dreamed of asking, of answering our prayers before we even say them. I have seen that happen so often that I fully trust God to produce miracles whenever they are needed to serve a higher purpose.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to keep me from whining, to express my regret for times in the past when I have been ungrateful or demanding, to give thanks for His great kindness in giving me more than I deserve, yes, in spoiling me, and to offer praise for the marvels of which He is capable and which He has shown our world.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation, hoping and trusting that this great God will continue to infuse me with a desire for nothing except for His presence and an attitude for gratitude whenever I am granted that favor.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about the message of Exodus 15-17 or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Feel free to export the image of the mission church; maybe some time in the near future my Internet-inept self will be able to figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons. In the interim, you are welcome to use the image and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.

Have a good day and a spirit-filled week, and may you find a host of blessings for which to be grateful.

God Took Care of Me Again!

Just a quick post today because I am not even sure which day “today” is. I need to hop into bed for about four hours of sleep before getting up in the Ukraine to a new day, a day full of meetings and work. It is still Wednesday afternoon in the USA, if my telephone clock is correct. So, I will label this a Wednesday post, make it short, share one of God’s small mercies for which I am always (well, at least usually, thankful), and go to bed.

I came into Kiev this evening (actually, early this morning) with two colleagues. Neither was from the Ukraine and therefore not aware of how to handle the taxi situation from the airport – how to tell which ones were safe, how to gauge the price, etc. Fortunately, we did not have to know anything. The young man sitting beside me and I got into an interesting conversation. He told me about how he got into working in Germany albeit being a Ukrainian. Then he asked me how it was that my fate brought me to the USA. For a minute, I thought I had misunderstood something in Russian, then I realized that he had just paid me a huge linguistic compliment. I explained that I had grown up in Maine. He still did not understand and asked how my parents had gotten to Maine, at which point I told him I had only a Russian tongue and not a drop of Russian blood. He laughed at his erroneous assumption that I was a Russian emigrant to the USA, and then, realizing that I was a foreigner in a strange land (not entirely strange, but it has been 15 years since I was last in Kiev), he offered to share with the three of us his company’s driver. What an easy way to get to the hotel!

I gave him my email address and asked him to keep in touch. He may. It seems like quite a repeat of my meeting with Eddie Pareiras of Campinas, Brazil. Once again, without my even asking, God took care of me. How otherwise would one explain the perfect seatmate on the plane? Luck? Okay, I suppose one could. But such luck twice, in two different hemispheres? I think luck may be, as someone once said, those times when God chooses to be anonymous!

Yippee! I’m off to bed, wishing you all a blessed day, evening, night…whatever it is where you are!

Monday Morning Meditation #8: Certainly, God Will Be With Us

Another week has passed, and in slow manner, I have finished another chapter. Moses has now grown up and is tending sheep when he sees a bush on fire but not being consumed. Intrigued, he checks it out to find God there with a tasking for him.

What is it that they say about curiosity? Well, I'm sure God would have found him one way or another, anyway. I have learned that when God has a tasking for you, there is no way out except to do it, and that seems to be what Moses found out.

Moses found out something else, too: if God tasks us, we have help. God never abandons us to carry out the tasking unaided. Obviously taken aback and feeling inadequate to the task, Moses asked God, "Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?" to which God replies, "Certainly, I will be with thee."

Reading: Exodus 3: 11-12.

Meditation: Reading this passage, I immediately recalled the moment 16 years ago that I was tasked with rescuing a dying child artist from a remote little townlet in Siberia. Shura, a young teenager with spina bifida in a part of the world that had nearly no antibiotics, was already a published author and artist when I first heard about him. He had had two exhibits of his art work at the renown Dom uchenykh (House of Scientists), and a documentary film had been made of his life. I have no idea what Shura's role is supposed to be in this world. Nor does he. However, God clearly wants him alive. The number of miracles, serendipities, and downright people-pushing that God did on Shura's behalf is mind-boggling. I cannot relate them all here because there are so many. I will at some future time (not distant future) post Shura's fuller story on The Clan of Mahlou blogspot, but that will have to wait for now because the story has so many details. The story is the framework for the first two parts (of three) of Blest Atheist; obviously, it is a complex story. (Where God gets so highly involved, I don't think complexity and mystery is avoidable.)

Here are the major ones:

1. I was introduced to Shura's plight by his godmother in a serendipitous meeting in Krasnoyarsk, where she was the head of a delegation of teachers from Shura's home town, Akademgorodok, who attended a two-week seminar I was teaching at the behest of the Siberian Regional Ministry of Education. It turns out that we had a common mentor -- my consultant at the Academy of Sciences in Akademgorodok had been her graduate advisor at Novosibirsk State University.

2. It quickly became clear that I was supposed to take care of Shura. God did not seem to care that I was an atheist at the time. He tasked me, and I had no choice but to obey. (Well, I suppose I did have a choice, but I kept getting pushed so hard that I simply became caught up in a whirlwind of miracles with no time to think about backing out -- some of that story can be found in an excerpt from my book on Mahlou Musings.) People would tell me that I was being used. When I would remonstrate that this was not possible because I was an atheist and believed that everything that was happening was a matter of coincidence, they would tell me to hush and just keep following along, and basically that is what I did, not even knowing why I did it.

3. God prepared me with the basic skills I would need: the ability to speak Russian (at one time, my major in graduate school) and the knowledge of spina bifida care (my younger daughter Noelle being a child with spina bifida). In fact, Noelle's doctor in Washington, DC was the person who was most instrumental in helping to get Shura into the US, filling out all the embassy's medical documentation. Clearly God started that preparation long before I ever heard about Shura, who was born half a world away a year after Noelle.

4. When the consular officer at the US Embassy refused to give Shura a visa, two diplomats stepped forward on my behalf (for Shura). They were my former students. More pre-planning?

5. When US hospitals would not operate on Shura without a $50K deposit and evidence that we would be able to pay the anticipated $500K bill (it turned out to be closer to a million dollars), we went looking for funds and were directed to a billionaire, John Kluge, who responded with a check for $500K (and later with another for the same amount) and tickets to the hospital of his choice, University of Virginia Hospital. We later learned that we had sent our plea to an unforwardable address in Virginia (a follow-up thank-you letter was returned to us), and yet within three days Mr. Kluge had received it at his correct address in New York. Moreover, the clinic coordinator at UVA Hospital was a former art instructor -- she recognized Shura's talent and was able to get him a residency at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts. She also took him into her home when it became clear that he would be spending more time in Virginia than in California; she had a son the same age, and the two boys became friends. During his stay in the hospital and after, Shura was befriended by a cardiac surgeon from the Ukraine who spoke Russian and was on an internship at UVA Hospital. The surgeon acted as Shura's interpreter and advocate and, later, American father. He even got eventually got US residency although that had seemed impossible when we first met him. Hah! Nothing turned out to be impossible in Shura's case. I have found that when God lets you be part of His miracles, the word, impossible, disappears from your vocabulary.

6. At a Tuesday evening pre-surgery moleibin (special intentions prayer during mass) for Shura at the Russian Orthodox Church in Washington DC, we met the overseer of the INS. He had worked late, knew that there was a mass that day, and "for some reason" felt compelled to stop in on his way home. He had not been in that church for over a year because he had moved his residence to Baltimore and attended church there. I am told that since that evening 16 years ago he has not been back. This wonderful man introduced himself after the mass, gave us his card, and offered to help in any way and ultimately assisted in getting Shura the long-term permission to stay in the USA that he needed to ensure his good health. We thought that he was a very special Good Samaritan. We only learned how very special he was several months ago with the publication of a book about an unusual icon and the identification of this man's son as the recipient of an incredible miracle. The boy had become blind, and his parents, ethnically Jews and spiritually atheists, were desperate to help him in any way possible. Grasping for straws, when they heard that the icon that weeps myrrh and causes healing would be at a church nearby (the same church that conducted Shura's moleibin), they took their son there. Myrrh flowed and gushed onto the floor. The priest anointed the boy's eyes with it, and the boy saw. The parents converted on the spot. Years later, the father was able to pass on God's blessing to his blind son by helping Shura, the lame son of another man.

There is much more to the story and even a follow-on story of a blind orphan with brain tumors who will be coming to the US as a result of her benefactor learning about Shura, contacting me, and my experience in working visas through the embassy coming to the rescue. The Russian doctors had given Katya of Tula only five years to live, and she wanted to die with relatives, the only ones she has being two brothers who were adopted by a family in New Hampshire a dozen years ago. Just when it seemed that it would be impossible to bring Katya to the USA all of the key players (the benefactor, me, my connections with and at the US Embassy, and Katya's nurse) all ended up in Moscow last August 6. None of us knew in advance that any of the others would be there, and I personally had earlier had no reason to go to Moscow, but suddenly I was needed as a consultant for an educational matter there. Subsequently, when Katya's Russian doctor refused to sign the paperwork to allow her to travel, that doctor mysteriously disappeared from the clinic and a new, more helpful doctor appeared in her place. Katya will be here soon, and now, after consultation with doctors in Boston, it appears that she may be coming to the USA not to die but to live. The doctors in Boston think that they can remove all the tumors.

There is too much complexity to these stories to include all the details here. I would simply ask two questions: (1) Could anyone of sound mind claim that all of these things were mere coincidence? and (2) assuming that this was a tasking from God, is there any doubt that He kept the same promise that He made to Moses: "Certainly, I will be with thee."

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to keep using me for these marvelous plans of His to help the people of this world for I so very much enjoy being part of those plans, to express my regret for any and all pushes, nudges, and opportunities that I have missed as a result of my sometimes contrary and somewhat obtuse nature, to give thanks for these waves of miracles which God has washed over so many people in the cases of Shura and Katya alone, and to offer praise for the unimaginably skillful way in which God works to bring good from bad, to network dozens of people and institutions to help just one injured lamb, and to make the unbelievable real.

After that, I will spend some time in contemplation with this wonderful God who does not care who we are, who will use even an atheist to help the hurt and lost, who equips us to accomplish whatever task He has set before us, and who is with us every step of the way, moving forests, mountains, and every other obstacle so that we might complete His tasking successfully and in full confidence that our trust in Him is never misplaced.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation.

If you pick this up as a weekly devotional activity, please share with me and others your own thoughts about the message of Exodus 3: 11-12 or any other scripture that you choose for meditation. Feel free to export the image of the mission church; maybe some time in the near future my Internet-inept self will be able to figure out how to use the Mr. Linky buttons. In the interim, perhaps you are welcome to use the image and share the meme of Monday Morning Meditation for starting out the work week closer to God.

Have a good day and a blessed week, filled with all good things -- and may God task you with something wonderful! No need to fear: He will be with you. He has promised it.

The Jobs God Would Not Let Me Have and the One He Insisted I Take and Keep

Only four years ago now, I was peacefully and happily working in Jordan, a wonderful country -- ancient, holy in history, and friendly. Then, I got a fateful (not fatal, but at moments it did seem so) phone call from a former boss. He had just been selected to a CEO position and was asking me to come back to the States and work as one of his four direct reports. I would be responsible for national and international operations. Hm. It was intriguing, but I was already working internationally, shuttling between Bahrain and Jordan in order to help out the division in Bahrain which had lost its head person, and doing occasional consulting in any one of two dozen other countries. Hm. I wavered, mostly toward the status quo of the time.

Then, my boss in Jordan, an Egyptian of grand proportions and even greater temper, learned about the phone call, and the full fury of an Arab slighted fell upon me, loyalty being the number one trait that Arabs expect from friends and employees, at least in my experience. He immediately tore up my contract. He would not allow me to leave him; the only way I would be leaving would be if he sent me away, and he was doing just that. It was odd that he found out about the phone call. Only two people knew, and both insisted that they had not told. I had no reason not to believe them and still have no reason not to believe them. I am now pretty certain that my boss found out because God wanted me back in the USA for two reasons: (1) to find Him even though I was not looking for Him; and (2) my current job -- and I am still trying to figure out why God wants me in this particular job but have reached the firm conclusion, given a preponderance of evidence, that He does.

There was only one problem with this scenario (for my boss): I had already been paid for the quarter, so I got a 3-month vacation. However, there was nothing my boss could do about that. He left for Egypt, his residence, and returned in a month for his one-day monthly visit. By then, he had calmed down. We met, in the Arab way drank tea before broaching serious matters, and then settled down to discussing "the situation." I asked why he thought I would choose the USA over Jordan; I might very well have chosen Jordan over the USA. He seemed puzzled about that at first, talked about how I was "leaving him" (yep, I was right about the loyalty bit with him), and finally commented that he would be in his hotel room until the morning if anything else came up that I would like to talk to him about. We parted civilly. There was almost a sadness in the air on his side. Months later, I realized that in the Arab manner of saving face he was letting me know that he would like me to come back but that I would have to be the one to take the first step. I know that. I had lived in the culture long enough to read between the lines, but I did not. I took everything at face value, in the American way. Why? I have been called a "cultural chameleon;" I am known for being good at understanding the unspoken communication in other cultures, yet I failed to recognize something that I knew very well. I ask again, why? In retrospect, I think God must have clouded my thinking because He wanted me in the USA.

I began rapidly opening doors in Jordan, and I had lots of help. I had become well known there and had acquired enough respect for being a good teacher and a good administrator to have a number of job offers. I taught at the top university in the country for fall semester, which ended the day before I left Jordan for the USA (yes, I did ultimately take the job there/here).

Every door I opened in Jordan was closed. No, make that, every door I opened was slammed shut. Every person who tried to help me moved unexpectedly. Seriously. One professor and one administrator were moved by their organization to Bahrain, and one dean was recycled back into the faculty (it was the appropriate time for that to occur); but then he had the opportunity to teach in Lebanon, and off he went.

In the interim, I kept being pushed in less than subtle ways toward the USA job. First, given that I had no contract and every possibility for staying in Jordan dried up as quickly as it appeared, the job in the USA did not look all that bad. Actually, it was a very good job. While I was hesitating, the starting salary offer increased by 20%. That sweetened the pot, but I was still pretty intent on staying in Jordan. Then, I coincidentally (?) ended up at a conference with the most senior leadership from the organization, ran into them quite by chance (?), socialized a bit, and they urged me to put in my papers. I did -- one day before the deadline. That turned out to be a problem because they needed my transcripts from Russia, where I had completed my PhD. Oops! I assumed that this meant I should continue looking for jobs in Jordan, but no, the USA organization extended the deadline, quite coincidentally(?), by three weeks, just enough time to get the transcripts. As soon as the transcripts arrived, I was interviewed and shortly thereafter a firm job offer was made. At the same time, the contract of my husband, Donnie, was terminated in similar fashion to mine. Well, as I have learned, when God says "no," God means "no." So, with the USA job offer being the only one I had in spite of the fact that never before have I had any trouble cultivating job offers, back we came to California.

And within six months God entered my life as a Force to be reckoned with. (For details, see my conversion story.) And now, more than three years later, God has pretty much taken over my life!

After two years of working in my current position, I began looking for another job for several reasons: (1) the lure of a higher position and higher wages and (2) a bit of an ethical dilemma associated with one of the projects I supervised -- I disagreed strongly with the position of the organization. Once again, I quickly found another opportunity, a vice president position close enough to home that I would not have to move and with a salary that would be equal to a 25% raise. I was one of the top three candidates, and on a Wednesday interviewed.

I felt confident after that interview -- one usually has a sense of the success (or not) of an interview. However, clearly God had put me at my current position and wanted me to stay there. Things started happening again. First, every single day about once an hour one employee after another would come in, tell me how much they liked working with me, explain how much I belong here where I am, and share some story of some difference I had made in their life (usually something minor such as previously hating to come to work and now loving to come to work -- well, I suppose that is not all that minor). Here was something new, and I began to feel some obligation to these people. Second, on the Saturday after the interview and knowing nothing about my job search, Fr. Barry showed up at my door with an article related to the ethical dilemma I was facing. I had discussed it with him on a couple of occasions; he is my spiritual barometer. He told me that he thought that I was in a very good position to help the ethical dilemma be resolved and that I should keep this in mind whenever I was troubled about it. (He was stunned to hear about the job interview.) Third, just to make sure that I had no choice (because sometimes I do have to get conked on the head in order to hear/see God's direction), the job for which I had interviewed went away. Poof! The Board of Directors decided that they did not need an executive VP, given the current economic climate.

Financially, through all of this, God took care of me. Consider that my contract in Jordan had been paid three months in advance and that my current job began a mere two weeks (travel time) after the end of those three months -- and because I was also teaching during the fall semester, I got more than two weeks of extra pay to cover those two post-contract-expiration weeks. As for my current position, not only was the starting salary increased by 20%, but when the organization found out that I had been interviewed (there seem to be no secrets at work), my supervisor put through a 25% retention incentive, the maximum allowed by organizational regulation, and so my current salary matches what I would have made had I left. Amazing!

So, it would seem that here is where God wants me (for reasons only He knows). Therefore, here I will be until directed elsewhere.

What a Wondeful Day It Was!

Yesterday was the most amazing day. Seriously! No tongue-in-cheek intended here.

First thing in the morning, Lemony dropped Nathaniel at school and picked me up in her rental car. (Shane's and her car broke down while Nikolina was hospitalized at Stanford--transmission needs to be replaced.) I could not drive because our battery was not working; Donnie had had to call AAA from the hospital parking lot the day before when the car would not start, and the battery had to be ordered.

While I was waiting for her, I remembered the financial issue that had been hanging around for a few days, jumped online, and discovered a deus ex machina resolution to my financial problem. An amazing solution -- but I am getting so spoiled by God pulling my family out of the muck all the time that I was not even surprised. First, earlier in the week, in order to overcome the sizable deficit caused by my not canceling an automatic payment when I chose to send in a paper check through the mail (thus paying twice and unable to get the money back in any kind of timely fashion), I had made arrangements to use savings and max out the credit cards with advances. That earlier morning, however, when I got up and checked the bank balance before going to the bank for the advances, I found that all the rest of the automatic payments for the month had been sent in and cashed, bringing the negative balance to a level beyond my capacity to make up in the manner I had planned. (I have no idea how the earlier release date got on those checks. I must have made a typo on the automatic payment date for them, but that seems strange. Possible, but truly odd and unlikely.) So, I was left with an impossible situation. What a crazy answer to a prayer for help! But God knows best, so I figured that since I could not catch up the account, anyway, I would not even try, especially since the amount I was able to round up would bring the negative balance to exactly $-666, and I did not like that number. I would just wait and see what would happen. Well, what happened was a bit extraordinary. First, the bank paid everything. Not maxing out the credit cards turned out to be important because we needed to put the car battery on them, as well as some other things that came up associated with Shane's emergency and other unexpected "activities" of this week. (Had my plan to fix matters myself worked, we would really have been stranded.) Then, yesterday, I saw that on Wednesday some per diem I was owed had come in, but for twice (!) the amount I expected. I was then back in the black by a few cents, and of course everything was much better Thursday morning, which was pay day.

This is why I never worry or even think again about any problem after turning it over to God: because God fixes things so well! (Well, there was that one time that I did worry, and God made it very clear to me that I should not do that; I never have again, at least so far.) My experiences in this vein have, I suppose, turned me into a little kid, always expecting the parent to rush the rescue. Actually, I never ask to escape the bad. I don't even worry about bad things happening; they happen, and that is inescapable life, free will, bad genes, evil-doers, and all that. But I do expect to be rescued. I also know that something good will come from the bad stuff, and I am curious enough to want to see what it is. I do bring the bad stuff to God's attention because I think it never hurts to ask, but generally I only ask once because somehow I am pretty certain, given the complications of our lives, that God must have us on a weekly checklist: "clean up this week's Mahlou mess."

So, Thursday morning started out easy! Little did any of us know what was to come!

After being picked up, I watched Nikolina while Lemony went to visit Shane in the hospital. Shane's appendix, it turned out was not about to rupture as the doctors thought Tuesday evening. It had already ruptured several days earlier, but apparently the concern over Nikolina's spinal surgery and the trips back and forth from Stanford kept him ignoring the pain. Only after Nikolina was home did he realize that something was wrong. Very wrong, as it turns out. He was full of gangrene. The appendix has been removed and his insides scrubbed. He is on mega doses of antibiotics, to which he seems to be responding well. The doctor has maintained a partially open incision because with Shane having a fever that comes and goes, the doctor is not certain that he got all the infection out. So, we wait. Until Monday, we are told. At least, Shane is now allowed visitors (initially restricted), and both we and Lemony have visited although yesterday Lemony's visits were abbreviated and between my babysitting duties and Donnie's trying to get a battery for an older car and wire money to Blaine (whose car had also broken down) -- once again glad that we had not gone ahead and maxed out the credit cards, we were not able to visit at all. But all of that was but a hint of things to come.

Not long after leaving for the hospital, Lemony returned home with Nathaniel in tow. The school had called about ten minutes after she arrived in Shane's room to ask her to pick up Nathaniel who was being sent home with conjunctivitis. She had to take him to the pediatrician, who is in a city south of us by about 20 miles. Most of her afternoon was spent on that while I got to teach Nikolina pattycake and other baby games that her great-great grandmother taught me. (It's interesting to see how, as a grandmother, I instinctively mimic my grandmother, not my mother nor myself as a mother. Odd!)

Lemony returned just in time for me to give Nathaniel a hug, and then both of them went off to open house at school. Donnie showed up at Lemony's with a working car, and we were just beginning to relax from all the stress and trauma of the past week, beginning with Nikolina's surgery, when all the lights went out. A helicopter that was helping to put out a forest fire several miles away had flown into the power lines and knocked out the electricity and cell phone tower for three towns. Lemony came home, left Nathaniel with us, and went to the hospital to confer with Shane on next steps. Nikolina was not tolerating the 100+ degree weather without air conditioning, and not having a working phone in an emergency was a concern.

Shane and Lemony found a hotel for Lemony and the kids about 30 miles north that had electricity and air conditioning -- and space. Off we went in our two-car caravan. (We did not want Lemony driving alone without a working cell phone.)

What fun! After settling Nikolina and Lemony into the hotel (Nikolina immediately perked up), we picked up some snacks for the next morning for Lemony and kids, gas, and dinner at Denny's. (Once again, I was glad I had not maxed out those credit cards.) After dinner, Nathaniel and I had fun splitting a root beer float: I drank the root beer, he sipped the "fuzzy stuff," and we split the ice cream. Then he proudly carried Lemony's dinner that we had ordered for her as take-out back to her at the hotel. As I left, I turned to say goodnight to him, but he was fast asleep in the bed, shoes and all!

We arrived back home at midnight and went straight to bed but not before offering a prayer of gratitude for once again being spoiled. Fixed finances. Car that works. Shane out of danger. Nikolina home (well, hotel, but better than the hospital). A day spent with family, which is hard for me to get, given a job that has me traveling frequently. And important lessons taught (and, hopefully, learned), such as

(1) Family is more important than work;
(2) Family bonds are built through time spent together, even if it is shared trauma;
(3) People have physical limits -- we should keep those in mind and enjoy our family and friends every day, treating them as though we have limited time with them because we truly do;
(4) There is no problem that God cannot fix better than we can try to mend ourselves:
(5) God will come through for us, just perhaps not always at the time or place or in the manner we anticipate;
(6) Cars, modern conveniences, things -- none of these are more important than relationships with family, friends, God;
(7) It is important to stop and smell the roses -- had not all these things happened this week, I would have been at work from 8-8 and would not even have seen the roses, let alone stopped to smell them; it is important to remember that life is for the enjoying, the valuing, the gee-whizzing, and the thank-you-God'ing, not for burying ourselves so deeply into our work that miss out on the wonder of it all;
(8) It is okay not to be fully mature, to run to God whenever help is needed;
(9) We can trust God without reservations of any sort; we don't have to worry (we simply choose to); and
(10) God likes to spoil us.

Yesterday, Lemony asked me rehtorically, "When is this all going to stop?" Ah, she has missed the point. It may not stop. Life is what it is. It is not important that the bad stuff stop because God will fix it, God will use it to teach us important lessons, and in many cases God will use the bad for ultimate good, often widespread good for many people. In the end, if we let Him, God will spoil us.

God, for sure, spoils me and mine. But you don't see me complaining!! As Nathaniel recently said to me, "Grandma Beth, you spoil me, but that's okay because I love it." Likewise, I say, "God, you spoil me, but that's okay because I love it!