"According to San Franciso researchers, acts of appreciation and caring actually can contribute to having a healthier heart. Doctors found that when we dwell on more altruistic actions, heart rates slow and levels of disease-fighting chemical ImmunoGlobulin A (igA) rise and stay that way for several hours."
Loretta LaRoche
Relax: You May Only Have A Few Minutes Left
Villard 1998
p. 65
A perscription with no co-pay.
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
HUMILITY AND NOBILITY
Title of a Magazine Article:
HUMILITY AND NOBILITY: Marks Of A Weaned Child
"God made man from the dust of the earth, which teaches us humility. He made us in His image, which gives us nobility."
David Faust
The LookOut July 31, 2005
p. 3
Faust's title speaks volumes. Humility comes with maturity; and we usually associate it with discomfort. But Faust takes a little of the sting out, doesn't he? What an amazing God! What an amazing love!
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
HUMILITY AND NOBILITY: Marks Of A Weaned Child
"God made man from the dust of the earth, which teaches us humility. He made us in His image, which gives us nobility."
David Faust
The LookOut July 31, 2005
p. 3
Faust's title speaks volumes. Humility comes with maturity; and we usually associate it with discomfort. But Faust takes a little of the sting out, doesn't he? What an amazing God! What an amazing love!
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
Saturday, March 15, 2014
CHANGE "HIM"
" . . . a wife requested prayer for her husband. She painted a rather sordid picture of him, and I gathered that she wanted us to pray that God would punish him.
. . . . .If we hadn't prayed the Scripture, we would have prayed the wife's frustration and anger instead of the nature of God . . . "
Judson Cornwall
Praying The Scriptures
Creation House
p.130
A friend and I carry totally different memories of our mothers. If someone hurt my friend, my friend's mother berated her own daughter and gave the offender every excuse for causing the hurt.
If I was hurt or frustrated, I called Mom. She'd get mad along with me.
God will listen; and He will comfort. But he won't be like either of our mothers. He loves, unconditionally, the offended and the offender. When I struggle to know how to pray and don't know appropriate Scriptures to do so, one way I can always pray for an offender, an enemy . . . a President, congressman, or boss that irritates every fiber of my being is, "God, Thy will be done."
Or . . . as I have prayed in the past, "God, change him or change me." ( I always suspect the need will require God to change both.)
This year, I'm praying that God will teach me how to pray.
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
. . . . .If we hadn't prayed the Scripture, we would have prayed the wife's frustration and anger instead of the nature of God . . . "
Judson Cornwall
Praying The Scriptures
Creation House
p.130
A friend and I carry totally different memories of our mothers. If someone hurt my friend, my friend's mother berated her own daughter and gave the offender every excuse for causing the hurt.
If I was hurt or frustrated, I called Mom. She'd get mad along with me.
God will listen; and He will comfort. But he won't be like either of our mothers. He loves, unconditionally, the offended and the offender. When I struggle to know how to pray and don't know appropriate Scriptures to do so, one way I can always pray for an offender, an enemy . . . a President, congressman, or boss that irritates every fiber of my being is, "God, Thy will be done."
Or . . . as I have prayed in the past, "God, change him or change me." ( I always suspect the need will require God to change both.)
This year, I'm praying that God will teach me how to pray.
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
Friday, March 14, 2014
THEY USED TO CALL THEM TRAMPS
"When he saw me he gathered himself together with reluctance and stood fully revealed. It was a curious attitude of mingled effrontery and apology. 'Hit me if you dare,' blustered his outward personality. 'For God's sake, don't hit me,' cried the innate fear in his eyes. I stopped and looked at him sharply. His eyes dropped, his look slid away, so that I experienced a sense of shame, as though I had trampled upon him.
"I confess that my first impulse, and a strong one, was to kick him for the good of the human race. No man has a right to be like that.
"And then, quite suddenly, I had a great revulsion of feeling. What was I that I should judge without knowledge? Perhaps, after all, here was one bearing treasure. So I said:
"' You are the man I have been expecting.'
"He did not reply, only flashed his eyes at me, wherein fear deepened.
""'I have been saving a coat for you,' I said, 'and a pair of shoes. They are not much worn,' I said, 'but a little too small for me. I think they will fit you.'
"He looked at me again, not sharply, but with a sort of weak cunning. So far he had not said a work.
"'I think our supper is nearly ready," I said: 'let us go in.'"
David Grayson/Ray Stannard Baker
Adventures In Contentment
Grosset & Dunlap 1907
I would love to share the whole story, but I've already taken more liberty than I should. What strikes me is, while fiction, I suspect Mr. Baker has accurately portrayed the inner feelings of a homeless person. (used to be called tramps) And sadly, I suspect, he has captured our feelings when we see someone standing on a corner with a sign or crouched in a doorway. We can't stop the thoughts and we can't always help--and sometimes shouldn't. But, we can pray for the person and if God "does" ask us to do something (even if it's only to smile or say hi), we can be obedient.
We often see bumper stickers that say, "Start Seeing Motorcycles." Do we "see" the homeless? Or do we look through them or past them? No one wants to be invisible.
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
P.S. Incredible book, by the way. And while fiction, Grayson's/Baker's biography bears much resemblance to his story. Grayson has wonderful wit and wisdom. Reading this book is about as relaxing to me as some would think it would be to lounge in a hammock beneath a full-leafed maple tree.
"I confess that my first impulse, and a strong one, was to kick him for the good of the human race. No man has a right to be like that.
"And then, quite suddenly, I had a great revulsion of feeling. What was I that I should judge without knowledge? Perhaps, after all, here was one bearing treasure. So I said:
"' You are the man I have been expecting.'
"He did not reply, only flashed his eyes at me, wherein fear deepened.
""'I have been saving a coat for you,' I said, 'and a pair of shoes. They are not much worn,' I said, 'but a little too small for me. I think they will fit you.'
"He looked at me again, not sharply, but with a sort of weak cunning. So far he had not said a work.
"'I think our supper is nearly ready," I said: 'let us go in.'"
David Grayson/Ray Stannard Baker
Adventures In Contentment
Grosset & Dunlap 1907
I would love to share the whole story, but I've already taken more liberty than I should. What strikes me is, while fiction, I suspect Mr. Baker has accurately portrayed the inner feelings of a homeless person. (used to be called tramps) And sadly, I suspect, he has captured our feelings when we see someone standing on a corner with a sign or crouched in a doorway. We can't stop the thoughts and we can't always help--and sometimes shouldn't. But, we can pray for the person and if God "does" ask us to do something (even if it's only to smile or say hi), we can be obedient.
We often see bumper stickers that say, "Start Seeing Motorcycles." Do we "see" the homeless? Or do we look through them or past them? No one wants to be invisible.
EverGrowing,
Lonnie
P.S. Incredible book, by the way. And while fiction, Grayson's/Baker's biography bears much resemblance to his story. Grayson has wonderful wit and wisdom. Reading this book is about as relaxing to me as some would think it would be to lounge in a hammock beneath a full-leafed maple tree.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
TO DAD
"Not for them are the honors. No Virtuti Militari or Cross of Valor for them.
"These decorations are expressly granted for 'valor in the presence of the enemy.' But the air force stations must be situated as far as possible from the enemy postions if they are to carry out their task."
"So the mechanic runs to the airplane with all the passion of devotion and gives it a thorough overhaul. He listens to its heart, fingers it, smells and penetrates its vitals. He is no longer an ordinary soldier, a private or corporal, but a specialist of metal diseases, who knows that on his skill and thoroughness depends not only the pilot's life, but his victory in the next encounter. A squadron's victories are brought to birth on the ground, through the services of the mechanics."
Squadron 303: The Polish Fighter Squadron With The R.A.F.
Arkady Fiedler
Roy Publishers 1943
p. 127, 123
How I wish my dad were alive so that I could share this with him. Though Dad wasn't a part of this squadron, he was an airplane mechanic during WWII.
Someone once made a comment to Dad, in my presence, "Well, you weren't in the fighting," as though he were never in danger, or as though his job weren't important. It sounds as though that were a prevalent thought during war times, as well.
I wish I could copy about four pages of this incredible book which honors many many men without the exclusion of airplane mechanics.
I was already proud, Dad; I'm even more so now. Hugs.
Your Daughter,
Lonnie
"These decorations are expressly granted for 'valor in the presence of the enemy.' But the air force stations must be situated as far as possible from the enemy postions if they are to carry out their task."
"So the mechanic runs to the airplane with all the passion of devotion and gives it a thorough overhaul. He listens to its heart, fingers it, smells and penetrates its vitals. He is no longer an ordinary soldier, a private or corporal, but a specialist of metal diseases, who knows that on his skill and thoroughness depends not only the pilot's life, but his victory in the next encounter. A squadron's victories are brought to birth on the ground, through the services of the mechanics."
Squadron 303: The Polish Fighter Squadron With The R.A.F.
Arkady Fiedler
Roy Publishers 1943
p. 127, 123
How I wish my dad were alive so that I could share this with him. Though Dad wasn't a part of this squadron, he was an airplane mechanic during WWII.
Someone once made a comment to Dad, in my presence, "Well, you weren't in the fighting," as though he were never in danger, or as though his job weren't important. It sounds as though that were a prevalent thought during war times, as well.
I wish I could copy about four pages of this incredible book which honors many many men without the exclusion of airplane mechanics.
I was already proud, Dad; I'm even more so now. Hugs.
Your Daughter,
Lonnie
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
BECAUSE . . .
Setting: China where full-time Bible distributors held covert church meetings.
"Knowing that in China's communist system those who didn't work went to prison, I asked them why they did not have to work a regular job.
"'Because on the job we witness,' they replied.
"'Then why don't they put you into prison?'
"'Because in prison we witness, too.'"
Brother Andrew with Verne Becker
The Calling: The Challenge To Walk The Narrow Road
Fleming Revell 1996
p. 139
I love this!! And I wish it were me.
Room to Grow,
Lonnie
"Knowing that in China's communist system those who didn't work went to prison, I asked them why they did not have to work a regular job.
"'Because on the job we witness,' they replied.
"'Then why don't they put you into prison?'
"'Because in prison we witness, too.'"
Brother Andrew with Verne Becker
The Calling: The Challenge To Walk The Narrow Road
Fleming Revell 1996
p. 139
I love this!! And I wish it were me.
Room to Grow,
Lonnie
Saturday, March 8, 2014
TOUCH DEPRIVATION
"Ashley Montagu says that the use of touch and physical closeness may be the most important way to communicate to ill and aged persons that they are still important as human beings. Touch deprivation (emphasis mine) is a largely ignored yet major cause of depression among the elderly in our society, whether they live independently, in a retirement community, in an assisted living complex or skilled nursing facility."
Dawn Nelson
From The Heart Through The Hands
Findhorn Press 2001
p. 27
I am so grateful for a single friend who told me how important hugs are for single women. I'm afraid it's something we married folks, or even dating couples take for granted. We all need touch.
Once in a while my daughter uses lotion to give me a foot or hand massage. My husband strokes my hair. Both make me feel comforted, relaxed, and loved.
Our grandchildren walk in the door and give us hugs. Let the potatoes burn! I want my hugs!
My husband, Ray, tells others how our son hugged us--in public, even though he seemed to be in rebellion. Treasured memories for both of us.
I remember when hugging became a part of my life. It was odd--uncomfortable. I was a counselor at a summer camp. Every Saturday boasted of good-bye hugs--dozens of them. No one went home, hugless. From that time, I began hugging friends and family members. At first, the guys resisted, but . . . I'd hate to lose any of them without having ever hugged them.
There are many ministries or expressions of love that you may not feel qualified for, but here's one I think we can all participate in: hugs, touching a hand or a shoulder, kiss on the cheek . . .
Any other ideas? What touches are precious to you?
Loved and Growing,
Lonnie
Dawn Nelson
From The Heart Through The Hands
Findhorn Press 2001
p. 27
I am so grateful for a single friend who told me how important hugs are for single women. I'm afraid it's something we married folks, or even dating couples take for granted. We all need touch.
Once in a while my daughter uses lotion to give me a foot or hand massage. My husband strokes my hair. Both make me feel comforted, relaxed, and loved.
Our grandchildren walk in the door and give us hugs. Let the potatoes burn! I want my hugs!
My husband, Ray, tells others how our son hugged us--in public, even though he seemed to be in rebellion. Treasured memories for both of us.
I remember when hugging became a part of my life. It was odd--uncomfortable. I was a counselor at a summer camp. Every Saturday boasted of good-bye hugs--dozens of them. No one went home, hugless. From that time, I began hugging friends and family members. At first, the guys resisted, but . . . I'd hate to lose any of them without having ever hugged them.
There are many ministries or expressions of love that you may not feel qualified for, but here's one I think we can all participate in: hugs, touching a hand or a shoulder, kiss on the cheek . . .
Any other ideas? What touches are precious to you?
Loved and Growing,
Lonnie
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