Meandering Moments by Elsi

My dog and I are being trained with clicks, consistency, and treats. She listens and obeys my words; I click to teach her, praise, and guide.

I never hear God’s voice, or feel His hand in guidance as I go. I don’t see lights or miracles; He doesn’t tell me what to do … and yet, He shows when I guess right—connections made, someone responds. Then I take heart and try again. I think I’m being clicker-trained!

What fun I had Saturday, May 2! Art and Soul (Twin Peaks Mall, Longmont, CO) features Colorado artists of all types, and they are carrying all my books (I mean, the books that have stories of mine). So Saturday we planned a book signing.

I had several friends come up, which is always fun. But I also sold books to some total strangers, which is delightful! And I had good conversations with even more people, including a nice grandma named (of all things) Elsie! I got to see Kira Gerbitz, from my old writing group, and met a young mother who loves Gary Chapman.

So it was profitable for me and the store, and for my heart. A good day all ’round!

I was interviewed on KPOF’s morning show this past Tuesday. I’ve been on with Roy and Denise before, and it’s always fun. Since I have pieces in three different compilation books this spring, we were talking about my experiences, the writing process, and the Colorado Writers Conference this month.

And it’s going to be a full month! Book signings this Saturday (Art and Soul, in Longmont’s Twin Peaks mall) and next Saturday (Mardel, in Littleton). The writers conference just after Mother’s Day. A Beth Moore conference in Wyoming the next weekend (I think I’m out of my mind!).

Good thing God knows what He’s doing! ;-D

A friend near Seattle sent me this, from her brother, who got it from the mother, Susie Lacy, Fort Stockton.

My six-year-old daughter Savannah has always held a very black-and-white view of justice. She is very literal in her thinking. People don’t make mistakes or forget to do something they promised; they lie. To her way of thinking you either mean what you say and say what you mean, or you lack integrity and honesty.

A few days ago I began teaching Savannah the concept of subtraction with borrowing. As I explained the concept, she wore a doubtful expression upon her face. Finally, I asked her if she understood what Mommy was explaining.

She replied, “Yes, I understand. But Mom,” and she looked deeply into my eyes for the first time and said with quiet conviction, “you’re lying. You keep saying you’re borrowing; over and over you say that. You keep calling it that, but you’re lying, because what you’re really doing is stealing from the tens column!” I could hear indignation coating her voice. “You’re never giving it that one back! You just keep taking.”

With complete calm she attempts to counsel her poor wayward mother by saying, “Mom. That’s lying, and it’s stealing, and those are sins. This is sinful math, and I don’t think Jesus would want us to do it this way.”

After I collected myself, I returned to the schoolroom to see my princess had pulled out the markers and was fashionably decorating Strawberry Shortcake. Without looking up from her self-assigned task she announced quietly, “I think we’ve done enough of that kind of math for today. We’ll revisit it tomorrow, but I want you to know something, Mom. If you keep lying by saying you’re going to borrow when you really mean to steal . . . people are going to know you as a chronic liar.”

I am laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes now. She gazes upon me compassionately, mistaking my tears of joy for tears of personal conviction. “It’s okay, Mom, Jesus will forgive you anyway.”

Smile, I tell myself. We’ll revisit this lesson later, but she’s getting the important stuff. P.S. She “gets” subtraction with borrowing now but still thinks you should call a spade a spade. It’s “taking from the tens column,” not borrowing. After all, you’re not ever going to give it back.

‘Twas two weeks after Easter, and all through our town
Not a creature was stirring—they’d all fallen down!
The cars were all parked, or else snug in a ditch,
And all the glad skiers felt blesséd and rich.
While I—at the keyboard—and you—in your bed—
Were eyeing the weather forecast in our heads.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave a luster of mid-day to the fast-freezing slush,
When what, to my wondering eye, did appear
But a snowplow preceding an RTD bus!

“On Diesel, on Four-Wheel, on Studly and Traction!
On Sand Truck, on Chain Law, on Anti-Lock Action!
To the top of the hill, to the top of the drift,
Now slide away, skid away, hapless and swift!”

As I sighed in despair and was turning away,
Down the highway a tow truck was coming my way!
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work:
He hitched up his chain, snapped it tight with a jerk,
Then, laying his bill in my quivering hand,
He gunned it and pulled me back to solid land!

And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Only a fool’s out driving tonight!”

I am 62 years old today! So Vicki treated me to supper at Red Lobster this evening.

We had our favorite server, Cat, who is just a delightful young lady! Vicki told her it’s my birthday, and I asked her to guess how old I am. She wavered … equivocated … then gulped and offered, “52?” We both laughed, and she quickly said, “That’s way too old, isn’t it!” She was astounded when I informed her she was a decade young.

She offered me a free dessert, and I suggested I’d trade that for a song. “Of course!” she said, and came back with three other servers and (drum roll!) a plate with a Red Lobster biscuit, with chocolate drizzled over it and a lighted candle on it! The servers sang, “Happy birthday to you!” while I laughed, took pictures, and blew out my candle.

I feel Your presence, Lord,
Surrounded by creation
(Majesty beyond all art):
Eagles proudly soaring,
Jays and chipmunks singing,
Joy explodes from tongue and heart:
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!

You fill my worship, Lord—
Piano, drum, guitar,
And voice combine as praises ring.
The words and harmonies
Are joined to lift us up,
And kneel at Your feet, oh King:
Shout to the Lord, all the earth! Let us sing!
Power and majesty, praise to the King!

You’re near when I remember
Your loving sacrifice.
You died and rose for me, I know.
I chew the bit of bread
And sip the tepid juice;
You hold me everywhere I go:
Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures here below!

Amen!

I have pieces in three compilation books out this spring. And I’ve got a book signing Easter Eve, for which I really wanted all the books! However, Love Is a Verb (Gary Chapman, Bethany House) wasn’t coming out till mid-April … or maybe May … or early April … or (the long-suffering PR rep finally emailed me) “you should have the books the week before Easter.”

So I waited. And waited. Checked my porch for boxes. Checked with neighbors … had it been delivered elsewhere?

But last night, Friday night, Sallie alerted me to the ringing of the doorbell, and there were my books!

Good thing the kindly FedEx guy had dropped off the box, rung the bell, and left, because I would have flung my arms around him in glee!

Remember the old “Name Game” song? You know, “Sallie, Sallie, Bo-Ballie! Banana-fana fo-fallie! Fee-fi-mo-mallie—Sallie!”

I have several new babies in my life, most of whom have (by my standards and taste, anyway) rather odd names. Out of courtesy to the proud mommies, I won’t list the names in question, but it’s gotten me to thinking …

Maybe it was easier in Bible times, when every name meant something, and the meaning was tied to the child’s heritage or future in some way. Isaac means “laughter.” Reuben means “see, a son” and sounds like “the Lord has seen my misery.” Jesus means “the Lord saves.”

“Elsie,” according to my research means “oath of God” or “consecrated to God.” Which has absolutely nothing to do with my being named Elsie (I’ve changed the spelling to Elsi). I was named after my father’s mother, who died when he was 16. But I am now consecrated to God, so it’s apt.

I prefer names that have a meaning, a sensible answer to the question, “Why did you choose that name?” My parents had a dog named Odif (Fido spelled backward), as well as one named Tibbar (rabbit spelled backward, because beagles chase rabbits). My cat is Dolphin, because I was swimming with the dolphins when my old cat died.

So I empathize with young Hayley, daughter of a choir friend, Chuck Price. Hayley decided her new brother should be named Fisher, “because then his name would be on all the toys!”

Hard to argue with that logic! ;-D

Oh, my! I recommend you avoid driving in 40-50 mph wind gusts, especially between Amarillo, TX, and Denver, CO. And even more especially for ten hours! And even more especially in a 30-foot RV!

Yoiks … I am so tired … so sore … but glad to be home!