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Cozy
In the book Cozy: The Art of Arranging Yourself in the World, author Isabel Gillies discusses the concept of “cozy”: What does the word mean to her? What might it mean to others? What does it mean to you?
We lit our first fire of the season this morning; it’s gotten downright chilly here. And I’ve yet to discover anything quite like a fire, hot beverage, warm pajamas, good book, a cat or two, and nowhere to go and nothing that must be done for the next little while. That spells cozy to me.
What spells cozy to you? If we’re at all alike, cozy suggests comfort, safety, warmth, security, shelter, refuge, assurance, certainty, and more to you. It suggest all those things and more to Ms. Gillies as well, and she offers up much food for thought. Her book is a fascinating read.
Does Scripture have anything to say about cozy? I believe it does. How about this? “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6, 7; NIV). What’s that? Don’t be anxious about anything? Present your requests – to the very God of the universe – with thanksgiving? And, it’s implied, you may have the assurance that He hears and answers? The transcending (!) peace of God is available to us? Wow! That sounds like comfort, safety, warmth, security, shelter, refuge, assurance, certainty, and more to me. With that kind of confidence in Who’s got hold of us, we can relax back into His arms with a great sigh of relief and a great deal of appreciation and gratitude. That’s cozy.
David, before he became the sitting king of Israel, wrote much of the Psalms on the run; it’s full of his claims of God’s faithfulness to him, God’s interest in and availability to him, the many deliverances from harm God empowered, and so. Here’s just one: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior – . . .” (Psalm 22:2, 3; NIV). That same God is available to us. That same strong arm holds and helps us. Those same ears hear our pleas and respond. That’s amazing and certainly should put us at our ease; should enable us to take a long, deep breath, relax, and let go/let Him. He’s got a good, firm, loving grip on us.
That’s ultimate cozy, my friends.
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No Need to Yell
“Remind the believers . . . to speak no evil about anyone, to live in peace, and to be gentle and polite to all people.”
Titus 3:1, 2 (NCV)
“Thank you for not yelling at me,” the harried-looking woman said. She was red-faced with exertion and the heat. She was in a hurry; the line behind us was long. We’d inched up into front position, drinks in hand. Jayne and I looked at each other. Yelling? Why would Jayne feel the need to yell?
My friend and I were, along with her 16-year-old daughter and the 16-year-old Korean exchange student living with them, wandering around a massive flea market on the Sunday of Labor Day week-end. It was hot and everyone was thirsty. So. Lavender lemonade it was! We’d spotted them earlier in many hands and finally located the booth from which they were being sold.
Standing aside with our treasures, sipping, the exchange student suddenly began to dance and point. She could speak very little English, with emphasis on the “very little.” She was focused on Jayne’s glass. “Mmmm. Ummm,” she squealed. We didn’t understand but we all looked. We could see stuff floating in the glass, as in everyone’s, that we all naturally assumed was . . . well, lavender.
“Oh, oh, oh!” emerged from our young friend’s mouth, and then, finally, something that sounded a bit like “bee.” She’d found her word. Bee? We all looked again and, sure enough, could clearly see a dead bee floating in Jayne’s glass amid the lavender fragments and lemon pulp.
And now we were back in front of the woman who’d sold us the drinks only a few moments earlier explaining the situation. Gently. It hadn’t crossed any of our minds to be demanding, accusatory, or angry. We simply wanted the woman to know she might have a problem at her booth.
That’s when she said, “Thank you for not yelling at me.” Which suggested to us that she had been yelled at by someone, maybe lots of someones, over time. What a shame.
There’s rarely any benefit to be gained by yelling at an individual. Rather, yelling is more likely to have the opposite of the desired effect, resulting in hurt feelings, anger, and alienation. Paul enjoins us to be gentle and thoughtful and considerate to everyone at all times. There’s a quotation I’ll bet you’ve all seen, for which I can’t find an attribution. “You never know what someone is going through. Be kind. Always.”
That’s excellent advice. There’s no need to yell.
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Now We Have Autumn
“Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile.”
William Cullen Bryant
Fall is my favorite season of the year. I love its crisp, sharp beauty; the way it invigorates; its promise of hope and life. Yes, life – just when it seems everything is dying.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, the writer, said, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” And I share that sentiment. Not that I particularly enjoy what comes next. No, I’m not big on winter, though it certainly has its attractions as well. But autumn – ah, autumn. It does funny things to my heart. The sight of turning leaves produces a catch in my throat. Passing a playground makes me ache with desire and memory.
I adored school, not a claim I know everyone can make. But fall and school – commingled for me – represented opportunity, broadened horizons, new and renewed friendships, critical information gained, a few more pieces in life’s puzzle offered up. I wanted to learn and grow and do things. That meant I need to know things.
I loved books and reading, a still-held interest well-known to my friends. And at school I could – I had to! – indulge in that interest. It was a marriage made in heaven if there ever was one.
A couple of days ago I was in a neighboring town to visit someone. The community sits at the base of Mount Rainier, which becomes clearly visible at a particular point in the journey. As it floated into view, my breath nearly stopped, the sight was so glorious. Trees all around me were dressed in vivid yellows, reds, and oranges with, of course, some green remaining. I would not have wanted to be anywhere else at that moment viewing any other sight.
The word is in turmoil at this time. We here in the United States are embroiled in an extremely difficult, painful election season. Emotions are running hot and high; friends and family members are at odds, to say nothing of neighbors, colleagues, and strangers; a distinct us and them quality has developed. It’s horrifying, even frightening. The Lord alone knows how all this will turn out.
But. There’s autumn. And autumn has, in my opinion and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, the loveliest smile of all. Solomon declared that “For everything there is a season” (Ecclesiastes 3:1) and he was right. As dismal as things may sometimes appear, as terrifying the circumstances – autumn is smiling. And so can we. So should we. This is a season in which to rejoice, be happy, make plans and move forward. A clear, bright fall day makes that do-able. Enjoy every one that presents itself. If you have to, and if you can, go find one. But take pleasure in this season; the next one’s coming. There will be much to savor about that one also, no doubt.
But now . . . well, now we have autumn. Praise the Lord!
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Why Not?
“Where’s that Dusty?” I wondered, looking around the room I believed her to be in. Dusty is my sweet tabby cat, and she usually lounges in bed with me in the mornings. This morning, though, she was nowhere in sight.
The furnace hummed in my ears. It was only the second time I’ve had it on since spring. And then I knew, or thought I did. I was right. On a shelf under a desk, only a foot above the floor and situated right over an air vent, is my cat’s favorite fall/winter/early spring sleeping location. When the heat is on that’s likely where she’ll be. I leaned over and peeked in and there she was, peering at me through one sleepy, half-open eye.
And just like that, I was in my grandpa and grandma’s house and a child again – age six, seven, eight, nine, ten. And I was in a small, warm cubby, my absolute favorite place to be.
There was a furnace that blew air out into the house, but there was a vent on the back side of it which also expelled some air, though in far smaller quantity. It adjoined a wall on one side and blew its lesser air out directly onto another wall straight ahead, about 18 inches away. The arrangement formed a little alcove and I fit right into it perfectly. One wall was to my back, another to my right, and the vent directly ahead. With a stack of books at hand, something tasty to snack on, and my grandmother visible to me in the kitchen to my left, I could sit there for hours at a time, and did.
I read, I ate, I talked to Grandma. Those days are among the most precious of my memories. My grandmother – loving, patient, affirming, generous, kind, and always happy to have me – is my earliest recognizable connection with Jesus. I knew she loved me; there wasn’t the slightest question. I knew she wanted what was best for me, always. I knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for me. I knew she wouldn’t misdirect me or give me bad information. I knew I could count on her in every circumstance, and that she was totally worthy of my trust.
So when I learned later that those are many of the same qualities claimed for Jesus, I had no problem understanding those claims or believing them to be available in Someone other than my grandmother. She possessed them. So might God. And He does.
I’m aware that not everyone has had a person who loved or loves them unconditionally in their lives, and I’m so sorry for it. That I had such an individual, and so early on, is the source of great wonder and amazement to me, as well as gratitude.
Jesus loves me. He loves you too. And more – much more – than your grandmother did. Or your mother. Or your spouse. Or your child. Or your closest friend. You can count on Him, at all times and in every circumstance.
And. He’s making ready a special place for us even as you read this. John 14:2, 3 makes this promise: “I am going to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.”
Wow! I can hardly wait. I hope my new home has a cozy cubby near a heat source and a very large book availability. If you want me and can’t find me, that’s where I’d suggest you look. My grandmother will be nearby. And possibly dear Dusty as well. Why not?
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Value Added
Ruth Ellen went above and beyond the call of duty. Way above. Way beyond.
Some of you are aware that Rick and I bought electric bicycles recently. The woman who guided us through the process was Ruth Ellen. We both thanked her vigorously and sincerely for her help and direction at the time.
Upon getting the bikes home, Rick decided that he wanted a few alterations made on his. One of them involved a different seat and he knew exactly which one he wanted, having that very seat on another bike he already had. He took it back, a 200-mile trip, as we live quite a distance from the bike shop.
The replacement seat was ordered along with other parts necessary for the other changes to be made. A date was set for pick-up, and guaranteed. The date was October 2.
On about the 29th of September Rick realized he needed to be in the same city on October 1, the day before the appointed time. He called the shop to see if his bike could be ready a day early.
“I think we can do that,” he was told. “Everything but the seat is in and that’s due in by UPS that morning. Come by at around 11 and it should be ready.”
Only it wasn’t. UPS hadn’t been by yet. “Why don’t you go have lunch or something and come back in a bit?” it was suggested. “The truck should be here any minute.”
Only it wasn’t. At 12:30 there still was no sign of the truck. That’s when Ruth Ellen stepped up to the plate.
“I’ll call the driver,” she said. “I have his number.” And that’s what she did.
“Found him,” she announced a moment later. “He won’t be here for awhile yet. I’ll just go pick up the part myself.” And she was off.
“Wow!” I said to Rick when he told me the story later. “Talk about value added. That’s amazing!” We both envisioned Ruth Ellen chasing the truck down and, with the driver, rummaging through the packages until they found the right one. They did find it and she brought it back to the shop where it was quickly placed on the bike and Rick headed home.
Ruth Ellen saved Rick a not insignificant drive back the next day, for which he was and is very grateful. And we wish for Ruth Ellen the blessings promised in Proverbs 11:25 – we think it applies to her: “A generous man (or woman) will prosper; he (or she) who refreshes others will himself (or herself) be refreshed” (additions mine). She was the source of a great refreshing to Rick and me, performing an extremely kind act she didn’t have to. We wish her a very grand refreshing, and we both determine anew to be a source of refreshing to others as often as possible.
How about you?