REST, A LONG WINTER'S NAP

"Ma, in her kerchief and I, in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap."

While I'm not sure what a long winter's nap means from The Night Before Christmas, sometimes it sounds enticing. Maybe not hibernating but that blanket of snow outside makes a warm blanket inside feel good.

Rest. Everyone needs it. Some work too hard trying to escape it, only to eventually crash, stay sickly or become workaholics. At creation God set aside the seventh day and called it holy. By example He led us to rest after work.

I was rehearsing our children's choir years ago. Most everything I share with you seems to have happened "years ago." Then again most of my life WAS years ago. Let's see...where was I? (Sometimes I miss my mind but I mostly do pretty well without it.) The children were learning a new song, He Is Exalted. They sang that phrase several times when it occured to me, "They may not know the meaning."

So I polled, "What does it mean He is exalted?"

Unsure, but bold enough to ask, one little boy timidly raised his hand. I nodded. He ventured, "Does it mean God is tired?" His dad was a farmer so he knew how exhausted they get.

God did rest after creation but not because He was tired.

Our firstborn absolutely hated naps. But I NEEDED Kimberly's nap! Most days found her resisting a rest! A battle usually ensued, followed by a spanking and eventually sleep...for us both. One day, finally conceding, she snubbed, "Mama, I was just thinkin'...naps are not as bad as hell!"

But pretty close in her curly, little head. I decided it might not be the best time to tell her about the alternative--heaven and eternal REST!

Rest does not always mean doing nothing. Eternal rest would be pretty boring if it did! To cease from one activity and focus on something else can describe rest, too.

TGIF kicks off that weekly pivot from labor to the weekend. The gears shift, folks get excited about their two days off.

Creation itself holds rhythms of life. Day yields to night in the cycle, seasons rotate, the ocean ebbs and flows, we breathe in and out. Even land needs rest to produce. Sabbath rest is a two-sided coin: cease from something to focus on something else. Now we're good at that ceasing part, except for the workaholics, but it tends to become a playground for fun and self, instead of renewal with God.

We need to sabbath (as a verb) daily, weekly, even annually. Our very biology calls for it because God built it into us. Science has found that people gain weight when they fail to sleep eight hours a night. These times of rest infuse us. Mentally, our brains reset and renew even as we sleep. They work better by morning. They even sort out and problem-solve during our sleep. We truly are "fearfully and wonderfully made."

Education affirms this need for rest in our bodies and minds, even for efficiency at work, as a whole. However, man seldom recogizes the spiritual need for refreshing, renewal, infusing of and by God. And that facet is why He declared one day to be holy. Going to church is not the whole duty of man to keep this commandment.

Do I rest in Him daily, cease from my To Do list long enough to hear and talk to Him, feed on His Word? Do I really set Sunday aside beyond the duties of church to focus my being on God? Is there a break in my year to retreat from the world and let Him fill me for kingdom work? These three rhythms are not automatically set within me to happen, though the need is embedded there. I have to be intentional, plan for them. My free will is involved.

But rest is not a void of nothingness. It's a fountain of life if we focus on the Giver of Life, that Living Water. Even as we sleep He "gives songs in the night" and prepares us for the day.

"Motion and commotion steal the soul but stillness restores the soul." One Month to Live by Kerry and Chris Shook

"He leadeth me beside the STILL waters. He restoreth my soul." (A busy King David in Psalm 23)

Resting in Him,

Kathy

DINNER MUSIC FESTIVAL

Mama sipped coffee at her neighbor, Jeanne Skinner's home, a typical '50s scene. Their familiar chat turned, as usual, to the piano and Mom's request, "Play it for me, Jeanne." The church organist went to her piano and played The Butterfly.

"If Kathy could ever play that, I'd consider our investment in music lessons well worth it!" Mama wished. "Would you teach her piano?"

With that friendship and request I became Mrs. Skinner's one and only piano student. I'd had 2 years of accordion before my folks figured buying a piano might pay off. I was 7 years old.

Over the next five years, the Navy life took us to Newport, RI, then to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. There at age 12 I practiced and made Mama's wish come true.

I recently found the tattered music with my childish handwriting all over it and now, 50 years later, gave it to one of my students to conquer. Last Saturday Gabe, 12, and I played it for recital, Dinner Music Festival '10. I wondered if Mama and Mrs. Skinner could hear it from heaven.

After all the students performed, we played one last song, What a Friend We Have in Jesus. This is both the debut and finale of The Family Band, formed by 3 of my piano students and their mothers. They adopted me into the family for the day! The swing style arrangement is by Mr. Craig Alberty, the father of Thad (trumpet) and Grant (trombone). His wife, Lyn, is also on trombone. Gabe Smallwood played keyboard (bass) with his mother, Roxie on trumpet.

Hope you enjoy it as much as we did!

Here are a few pictures from the evening.

"OK, kids, let's make goofy faces!" Some hung me out to dry!

KATS OR DOGS? BOXERS OR BRIEFS?

Last week I clearly stated and convinced myself I'm NOT a crazy cat lady.

Now that might lead you to believe I'm a dog person. Actually I'm neither. I'm a people person. But I have friends who breed dogs, producing amazing genetic results.

• A collie and a lhasa apso produced a callapso. Beautiful dog that folds up for transporting.
• They bred a spitz with a chow chow and came up with a spitz-chow, a dog that throws up a lot.
• Their pointer with a setter created the poinsetter and made wonderful Christmas gifts.
• A great pyrenees mated with a dachshund. But the resulting pyradachs was a puzzling breed.

I could go on all day like this. Have you had enough yet? Oh...OK.

• The terrier and pit bull brought about the terribull, a dog that made awful mistakes.
• They tried the deer hound with that same terrier, resulting in a derriere, a dog that's true to the end.

OK. OK. Just two more and I'll quit. Promise.

• Crossing the pekingese with a lhasa apso led to the peekasso, an abstract dog.
• When the malamute bred with the pointer, it made a moot point owned by...oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.

As to the other title question, I asked Doug, "Do most old men wear boxers or briefs?"

He smiled,"Depends."

It takes all kinds and I'm one-of-a-kind. So are you! Aren't you glad?

Fearfully and wonderfully made,

Kathy

NORMALCY IS OVERRATED

"Don't ever call me normal!" I said half kiddingly.

"Don't worry, you'll never be accused of that!" came the dead serious reply.

During Christmas Kimberly casually commented, "Ya' know I was in my 20's before I realized MY mother is eccentric!"

Startled by the word, never having thought of myself as eccentric, I bristled and shot back, "Well, I'm in my 60's and JUST found out I am!"

We laughed and she tried to assure me it was a compliment. "Mom, we love your weirdness."

Her siblings piped in, "Other mothers were normal."

"Yeah, boring--you were never boring."

I birthed my very own cheering squad.

Ro! Rah! Ree!

Hit 'em in the knee!

Ro! Rah! Rass!

Hit 'em in the...

...other knee!

They eventually convinced me that being eccentric didn't mean my vision of a crazy cat lady with unshaven arm pits.

I prefer to be called not normal. Now I'm not as fond of the word abnormal because it smacks of asylums and lock downs.

Others have reframed it as, "Kathy, you ain't right." Now they didn't mean I was wrong...just not like everyone else. Not normal.

But isn't everyone different, unique? Certainly God loves variety. Just look around at nature, colors, personalities, talents. Figuring out who we are takes some years, experiences and tossing away molds or labels others may sometimes place on us.

Little David figured that out early in life when he yanked off Saul's armor. One size does not fit all. He risked the absurd, dared to be different, and lived the drastic. He flung a rock and Goliath beyond anyone's expectations. Go, David! He'd tell me, "No, it's go, God! The battle belonged to the Lord!"

Marriage often binds two opposite types together. I like the way Rocky Balboa phrased it, "The knots in your head fit the holes in mine." Our differences make us fit so we can complete, compliment and balance out each other.

That oft quoted philosopher, A. Nony Mous, put it this way, "We are all a little weird and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness, and call it love."

Normal. That word has several meanings. The death of a spouse brings about a new normal. Some things are normal for Christians but not average. God's prescription and provision should make joy, peace, gratitude and contentment normal for us. But it's not the average demeanor, seen in many faces of those in God's family.

Maybe my somewhat unconventional view of life is genetic. I find humor, the absurd, delight in strange places. Many of my relatives did. Uncle Roy dated a fat girl once and his mother asked, "Son, what do you see in her?" Now she was hefty herself but it didn't stop her from asking.

With a twinkle in his youthful eye, Roy bantered, "Mama! In the dark you can grab that big old arm of hers and it can be anything you want!"

"Roy!" she feigned shock.

Yep. I bet my aversion to normalcy is genetic. Like the cowboy with diarrhea, it's all in the genes. (Thanks for that one, Bert. He only acts normal in public but has his own little, twisted ways among family members.)

Normalcy? It's way overrated. Recently a Christian counselor noticed I wasn't quite normal. So he offered to help me if I cared to make an appointment.

"No thanks, " I declined Randy Hiatt. "I like the view outside the box."

He affirmed me with, "You wear outside the box well."

So there! For all you normals, I've been certified NOT NORMAL by a bonefide, licensed counselor!

But I'll keep your card, Dr. Randy, just in case I lose it, slip over the edge one day and not even realiz...

Kath

“There may be a time in life when one is tired of everything and feels as if all one does is wrong, and there may be some truth in it--do you think this is a feeling one must try to forget and to banish, or is it 'the longing for God,' which one must not fear, but cherish to see if it may bring us some good? Is it 'the longing for God' which leads us to make a choice which we never regret? Let us keep courage and try to be patient and gentle. And not mind being eccentric, and make distinction between good and evil." Vincent van Gogh

HIPPO HUNT

After writing last week's blog on monsters, I got a crash course in hippos from an unexpected source. Missionary Steve Burkholder, serves God in Africa. Hippos kill more people there than any other animal. So the monsters are very real! Recently the death of a villager led to a hunt. His help on that venture opened the door to share Christ.

Read his story below the pictures.

Dear Family and Friends,

It has been awhile since I had an adventure that really reminded me where we really are here in the African bush. It is easy to get used to the day to day activities and forget to take those once in a lifetime opportunities.

I had such an opportunity this past Wednesday in the village of Basotu. Our church in Katesh, Kweli Baptist Church, was able to start a daughter church in this village last year under the vision and leadership of missionary Nate Wolf and Bible Institute student Christopher.

There have been many ministry opportunities in the area and outreaches to the community. God has blessed and we have seen the spiritual fruit in recent days.

This village is located near a small lake that is the foundation of the economy there. It is a fishing community with many of the men of the village relying on fishing for their only income. Along with having some small fish and some rather large catfish the lake is also home to hippos. These huge animals can be dangerous to humans and are responsible for more human deaths than any other African wildlife.

The villagers have been writing letters to the government for two months for the local game official to come and take care of a few of the more aggressive hippos. Just last week a fisherman was killed while fishing from his dugout canoe. Since then all fishing has been banned because of safety reasons. This has caused obvious economic problems for the village.

After hearing about the death of the fisherman the local government tried to hunt and kill the dangerous hippos. They did not have much success the first day. When I heard about this through Nate Wolf we called the local officials to get more information. I was interested in going to join the hunt and they welcomed us to come out the next day. I did some research on hippo hunting and headed out to the village. Although my rifle is way too small for hunting hippo and I did not have the correct ammunition I thought I would give it a try.

Shortly after arriving and meeting with the local officials we set out with the fishermen to find the hippos. The local game official was also there with his very old but very large rifle.

Needless to say the atmosphere was very tense and sober just a day after the funeral of the local fisherman. After a short drive along the lake a hippo was spotted and the hunt was on. After wading out into waist deep, stinky, slug-water, the hippo was in sight. It would pop up and down out of the water hiding in the tall reeds and grass.

Finally a good shot was present and we counted 1.2.3. and both shot at the same time. The hippo was hit and injured but it took 8 more shots from my gun and 2 from the game official before the waters were calm again. It was a shot right through the ear that was the deadly one.

It took about 20 men to drag, pull, and roll the huge animal to the soggy shore. Shortly after, the local officials said there were others that needed to be shot and we piled into the cars and the hunt was on again.

After a few hours of trying we returned to the first site and the skinning and butchering of the meat began. There were approximately 1000 people gathered at one point. The meat will be divided and sold and invested back into the community. I was able to bring home about a meter of the hippo hide that I would like to make something out of. I have also requested the large teeth.

The next day they found and shot another hippo and were having a village party with dancing and of course plenty of meat. The local officials and villagers were very grateful for the help and welcomed us again.

It was an amazing day that I will never forget. Most of this was captured on video and there were plenty of pictures taken. Nate plans to use the footage in the future to have a large gathering and share the gospel with those who come. Who knew that God could use hunting hippo as a way to serve the community and share the gospel.

Enjoy the pictures and welcome for a hippo burger anytime!

Steve Burkholder

It's me (Kathy) again. I found it quite amazing how God worked through this modern day David. He still accomplishes kingdom work, His ministry, in mysterious ways.

ALLIGATOR UNDER MY BED

MONSTERS! The very word makes me shiver. Do all kids fear monsters? Do they lurk in children's closets everywhere or just in the creative imaginations of movie makers?

I only know the inner workings of my own childish brain and maybe a bit about our kids'. Firstborn Kimberly had two imaginary friends, neither of whom were monsters. She named them Ida and Puna. I don't even know if they were male or female. What I do know is they were short, blue and had red hair. She played with them often but when I tried to interact, "Well, good morning, Ida!" Kimberly dead-panned back, "That's Puna, Mama."

Another day I greeted Puna on the bed where Kimberly had just spoken to her. "She's not there, Mama. She's over here," pointing the opposite direction. I think they were in cahoots against me!

One day I asked about them and she placidly informed me, "They died."

Saddened, I probed, "Ohhhh Honey. How? What happened?"

Unfazed, "They got cancer."

Obviously Kimberly's imagination conjured up friendly sorts. My own childhood, however, was stalked by an alligator who lived under my bed and really interfered with my bladder schedule. In my head I knew he probably was not real, but my toes weren't taking any chances. When I could hold it no longer, I'd stand on my bed, step over to a table, crawl across my dresser and pick my way over the furniture obstacle course. Eventually my feet touched the bedroom floor but ever so briefly. I scurried out the door to the bathroom.

YES! Pee! Pee at last! And THAT's how you spell r-e-l-i-e-f!

By day, there was no alligator...even in my curly, little head.

Eventually someone marketed canned Monster Spray. Wise mothers of today rescue their tots at bedtime by fumigating rooms. Fears and monsters vanish. I never even told my mother about my alligator. I bet she'd have swatted him with a broom!

Monsters. God must know we fear them because he addressed them talking to Job.

God said to Job, “Behold now behemoth [the hippopotamus], which I made with thee” (Job 40:15)

“Canst thou draw out leviathan [the crocodile] with an hook? Or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?” (41:1)

I find it consoling that God chose my very monster to make a point. He knows my fears, my limitations battling problems that rage in life.

Today our monsters come in different forms and some are very real. God knew we'd need more help than aerosol cans or brooms. So through Job, He told us what to do when we come up against things we can't handle.

Job answered, “My God is all-powerful. He can do all things. And no purpose (plan) of his can ever be thwarted." (Job 42:1-2)

I know I can’t stand up against the hippo or the crocodile in my life. But that doesn’t matter. I know God can. When it's beyond my strength, my part is to simply stand still and see the salvation of the Lord.

So to sum it all up, what can I learn from my youth to now?

* Some monsters are real and some are not.

* I can't over-power or control Satan's attacks or evil in the world.

* But I know Someone Who can and choose to rely on His plan and timing.

* When I'm the dark and alone, my monsters seem worse.

* In the Light, telling Someone, I can simply stand in Him. The battle belongs to the Lord.

* I know Who wins in the end.

Maybe Kimberly knew something back then that I'm just now getting. It's not really cancer or even that last enemy, death, that wins in the end. Not for those in Christ. He conquered it better than any repellant or broom!

"O death where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

He is risen, He is risen indeed!

Praising our risen Conqueror!

Kathy

After writing this blog, I received a startling letter and pictures of a killer hippo. I'll share it with you in a few days.