Our Prayers Are A Battle Cry For Ukraine

The comparison of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego to watching Christians in Ukraine singing hymns, finding shelter for their neighbors, and continuing to praise God, is not lost on me.

Knowing they are refugees in their own country now, yet “this is our temporary home; our permanent home is with the Lord,” humbles me, greatly.

Daniel 3 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. Always has been. And the worship song, “Another in the Fire” by Hillsong United runs through my mind as I am crying and lamenting to God, for our brothers and sisters in Ukraine.

There but by the grace of God go you and I. As we sit in the comfort of our homes. Not fearing missiles, bullets, tanks or nuclear weapons being aimed at us. There but by the grace of God go you and I.

And I am angry. I am so angry. Downright pissed off that anyone would have the audacity to praise Vladimir Putin for anything. That anyone would blame

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Sometimes Being Right Isn't Right

Several years ago, Terry and I were dealing with what (at the time) seemed like an impossible situation to maneuver. When talking with my sister-friend Alice about it, she asked me, “Do you want peace or do you want to be right?” Trouble was, I wanted both.

Terry and I began our alarm praying from this ordeal. You see, every hour, I set an alarm to go off, and we would stop whatever we were doing, and pray together. Even if I

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That's A Wrap on 2021

My friend, there is tremendous healing from not carrying your burdens around. There is freedom in not hauling that heavy load into the new year. It’s okay if you don’t set it all down by January 1. It’s okay if you’re still lugging it into March. But let me tell you something … it is the greatest weight loss plan you will ever experience if you stop picking up that heavy luggage, and carrying it around in your daily life.

You will breathe better. You will smile more often. Your laugh will be lighter and more frequent. Your stomach will feel better. Your headaches will disappear. Your walk will be far more enjoyable. The song in your heart will carry over into the world around you.

It is okay to be angry. It is okay to be depressed. It is okay to grieve. It is okay to cry. It is okay to shout. It is okay to seek justice for the wicked and evil. There is a time for all of those emotions.

It is also okay to be at peace and be happy. It is okay to laugh. It is okay to live. It is okay to be joyful. It is okay to be quiet. It is okay to trust God to revenge the evil. There is a time for all of these emotions, too.

And happiness feels like the greatest weight loss

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It's Hard To Be Kind To Hateful People. Be Kind, Anyway

I failed Jesus again. And I had my own words to love others ringing fresh in my ears.

On a flight to Chicago, I was sandwiched between Terry on the aisle and a rather large woman next to the window. I am being gracious with the, “rather large” description. You could tell she was not at all thrilled to have someone sitting next to her. I was none too thrilled, either, since she took up half of my seat. To make matters worse, the air conditioning didn’t appear to be working on this flight, so it was extremely warm. Having half of her body weight over me certainly didn’t help. Still, I said hello, and once buckled and settled, offered her some of my hand sanitizer.

She declined.

When the flight attendant brought beverages, this woman’s arms would not have been able to reach over, due to her size. I took it from the short, male flight attendant, careful to cup and hold it by the bottom with her napkin, and handed it to her. I’ve done this on dozens of flights in the past few months and have never minded, one bit. Nor has anyone next to me minded. In fact, on the last flight, the woman seated next to me said to me, “my goodness, what great service! I owe you a big, fat tip!” and we both laughed.

This woman, however, took offense.

“I DID NOT WANT YOU AND YOUR NASTY GERM HANDS ALL UP IN MY DRINK.”

Keep in mind, I touched only the bottom of her cup, with the napkin touching the cup, itself, not my hand. But as she continued to squash me, I wondered

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What if our kindness was glue for this broken worLd?

I went through the longest Starbucks line the other morning, I can recall. When I got to the window, I asked the barista if that location is always this busy, or was it because of pumpkin spice? She said she hadn’t thought about it, but it could be the pumpkin.

They were slammed. So I said, “Well, you’re handling this really well for it to be so crazy!”

She replied, “thank you, but I feel really frazzled. Frazzled and … incomplete.”

I said, “I can understand that. But I know what would complete you!”

She looked at me, laughed and said, “Please tell me!”

Me, “Jesus. Just Jesus. He’s the only thing or person who will ever complete you.”

She told me, “I wish I could come out and hug you right now. Thank you for that. That’s what my mom would tell me. I needed that reminder so much. Thank you. You changed my perspective for today, and believe me, I needed it.”

For all I knew, she could have said, “Nope. I’m an atheist.” But instead, she needed a Jesus loving sister to just come by and say, “Hey. Jesus is your answer.”

She then said to me, “I’m really sorry you have had to wait so long!” I told her it wasn’t a problem and it gave me the opportunity to chat with her.

What she said next broke

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I'm So So Glad I Held My Baby So Often

When Michala was born, my mom told me how quickly her childhood would fly by. To hold her and rock her as much as she would let me. I took that advice to heart, and boy am I glad. My mom also told me to pray for her, every single day.

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” - 3 John 1:4 (NIV)

There’s a saying, “the days are long but the years are short.” Parents everywhere will attest to this. Sometimes I close my eyes and remember rocking my baby. Her Johnson’s Baby Wash smell. The way she nestled herself onto my shoulder, and let me rock her and sing, “Baby Mine.” The way she would reach for me in the middle of the night when she woke up crying, and sometimes just needed to be held and kissed by me.

I’m so glad I held her all those nights. I’m so glad I rocked her past falling asleep, and just whispered

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Jesus Won't Ask If I Protested. He Will Ask If I Loved

My sweet grandmother stopped watching the news as she got older. It depressed her greatly, she would tell us, and she would either change the channel, or tune it out, if someone else was watching. My dad would say to her, “But Mama, you need to be informed about what is going on in the world around you.”

I could see both of their points. My brother and I were raised to seek information. News. Education. My mom taught me when I was really little, “If you can lay your head down at night and have learned something new, it was a good day. But a day where nothing is learned, is wasted.”

I guess in a way, my dad saw my grandmother’s (his mother’s) refusal to watch the news as a form of throwing in the towel. Giving up on current events and knowledge. Defeat. But Grandmother was so tenderhearted, she really couldn’t stand the news. It broke her heart. It gave her bad dreams, and anxiety.

The other morning as Terry and I watched

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I Don't Want An Endless War. But We The Church Can't Turn Our Back On Afghanistan

A “popular” scripture I see on wall art in stores an awful lot is Micah 6:8.

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” - Micah 6:8 (NIV)

I love this verse, and it would make my heart soar to see every Jesus lover across this globe, living this verse, myself included.

It is so hard, though. To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.

When we break it down, I see just how many ways I fail my Heavenly Father, my Papa.

Bob Goff says we should be rivers not reservoirs with our love. That we shouldn’t bottle it up inside, but share it.

You and I are going to be challenged in the coming days, weeks and months, regarding our faith.

Democrats and Republicans are all aghast at

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"A Leader Without Followers"

I read former Speaker John Boehner’s book, On the House and enjoyed it so much, I read it again. Almost never will I read a book, twice. (I did with Love Does and Everybody Always, both by Bob Goff, but that’s it.)

Anyway, I have always admired and respected Speaker Boehner. In fact, selfishly I wish he were still the one leading the Republican Party. Maybe if he were, I would not be politically homeless right now. But I digress.

Speaker Boehner’s book is absolutely fascinating, and I devoured every page. If you are a political nerd like me, I highly recommend this book. If you even recall some of John Boehner’s time in Congress, I believe you would enjoy it as you already know the former Speaker does not mince words. He has a list of Boehnerisms that are both hilarious and deeply profound.

Something that always struck me about Speaker Boehner was how well he worked with both Republicans and Democrats. But if you read his book, you will find out there were many times he couldn’t even work with some of the “knuckleheads” (his word) within his own party, and had to go a different direction. As Christians, this happens to us, too. Sometimes people who are also believers or even members of our church or bible studies can say and do things so outrageous, we, too, have to go in a different direction.

One of my favorite sayings from Speaker Boehner’s book is, “A leader without followers is simply a man taking a walk.”

I loved this phrase so much and

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My Alligator Mouth

I struggle with my mouth. Not going to lie. I have managed to get myself into more trouble in my life because of my mouth. Our friend Tom (who is 87 years old) has a great saying. “His alligator mouth is about to overload his hummingbird butt.” This is so true for me. Sad, but true.

Too often, I have an alligator mouth.

I have an awful lot of opinions, and foolishly believe I need to share them.

I am 47 years old and it has taken me this

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The Protection We Need

I ordered a hand held mandoline slicer last month and read the suggestions to also use a knife glove, when using. I thought, “Psh. I’m 47 years old. I don’t need some stinkin’ glove to use a mandoline.” Turns out, the manufacturers were correct and I was wrong. I did, in fact, need a glove. The first time I used it, I found out just how very sharp it truly is! (I cut a chunk off of my right thumb). Later that night, I ordered the knife gloves. You are supposed to wear these gloves when using a sharp mandoline, sharp knives, shucking oysters, etc.

I cannot believe my smug arrogance. An extremely sharp blade on a mandoline slicer that came with a warning to use a protective glove, and I ignored it. I deserved that chunk of my thumb being cut off and the tingling sensation I still have from it. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink.

I can’t help but see this as a reminder of how I get myself into dumb situations that clearly show I wasn’t wearing my protective gear.

You know the gear

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Running to Embrace the Tension

Years ago, one of my friends told me she wanted to start running, and asked if she could run with me? She told me she wanted to lose some weight and get into better shape and thought running would be good for her.

I told her I would be thrilled to have her join me. But shortly into our first run, I realized I wasn’t thrilled. She complained the whole time.

My friend wanted to run. She just wanted to run a tiny bit. The rest was too hard and painful, she said.

So I showed her some more stretches I thought would help her. I told her how important it was to hydrate before running. Then, maybe two weeks in, she asked if we could run to the donut shop? I told her yes, but that was a full three miles. She said, “I know! I’m fine with that. I’ll have something fun and delicious to look forward to, during our run.”

I reminded her, “Okay, but that also means three miles, back. So six miles, total. You up for that?”

She said, “No way,” and told

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In The Summer of 1993, I Wanted To Go To Columbia

In the summer of 1993, I wanted to be part of an internship program I saw advertised. The Department of State was looking for bilingual, political science students to work in Columbia. One of my political science professors wrote a letter of recommendation for me. I had to have two. So I went to my advisor who was one of my Spanish professors, and asked if he would write one?

He told me he would prefer to see a guy go to Columbia rather than me. I was so offended. “Why? My Spanish is good enough!” I replied.

“Aimee, it is very dangerous in Columbia right now. I just would not feel comfortable with you going. But if you talk to your parents, and they agree to it, I will write your second letter.”

Ha. Piece of cake. I was 19 years old, and didn’t really need for my parents to okay it, but I would still ask. (After all, my father was paying for my tuition).

I called my dad at his office

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Jesus, LOVE, LGBTQ

I have not made my politics secret to anyone. In fact, sometimes I am too much of an open book. Especially with my face and expressions.

But sometimes I wonder if I say enough? Because I hate confrontation. I mean, loathe it. I know sometimes confronting people is needed, and healthy, even. But I will often avoid talking to someone in order to avoid conflict.

Yet, we need to have some uncomfortable conversations in order for us all to grow and be better people.

I want to talk about what I see and hear regarding LGBTQ groups. Or better said, people.

No one in my family

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Healing My Heart

Hi all. It’s Sunday afternoon as I write this, and I am home, resting and recovering. Surgery went well, albeit there were a few complications. They found 80-90% blockage and put in a stent. I was sedated but not fully asleep at first. They started in my wrist, but were unable to get the stent through my arteries there, and then had to go in, through my groin.

The doctor came over to my side and said, “Aimee, (he had been calling me, “Mrs. Jackson” up until his point) this is very severe. You could easily have died

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We Are The Rock

I wandered into a store the other day and as I was at the register checking out, the employee asked for my email address to be eligible for their future rewards program. This guy was covered in tattoos and had so many piercings. He was dressed in women’s clothing. You could just tell he was looking for attention and approval, yet he barely made eye contact.

So I gave him my email, “nottheperfectcook@gmail” I told him. He laughed, looked me in the eyes and said he wasn’t the perfect anything. And I told him none of us are, and there was only one perfect Man. And he was crucified.

He looked away from me and said he couldn’t do anything perfect, and there seemed to be such a sadness about him. I told him Jesus told us to love His Father and to love others. We won’t get it perfectly right, but we can strive, daily.

He said, “You’re

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Jesus And Yoga Fix Everything

A friend of mine recently turned 40. When I texted her happy birthday, she wrote back that she was feeling very (old) and she sent the photo of the old lady from Titanic saying, “It’s been 84 years.”

I wrote her back, “I see your 40 feeling old, and I raise you my 47 with a hurt hip.” I explained that a couple of nights before, I was standing near the fireplace and we had a bunch of boxes nearby. Rusty was behind me, and as Terry walked off toward our bedroom to brush his teeth, Rusty took off running after him. In the process, he knocked me out from under my feet. I knew I was going to go down, I just tried to control the fall. The edge of the fireplace was so close, and all I could think about was, “Don’t hit your head on the fireplace!” Never mind the rest of my body, and the boxes. All I could think about was not hitting my head.

Right after I fell, I was quite proud of myself for not hitting my head. So I bounced back up, reassured Terry I was fine, and went on about my normal business.

The next morning, however,

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Even If God, Not What If

I tend to be a worrier. I worry, “what if” scenarios. But lately, I have been redirecting that worry and what if thoughts, into “even if” thoughts.

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego said, “our God will rescue us from your hand. But even if He does not, we want you to know, O King, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (Daniel 3:16-18)

I want to be like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. When worry or fear begin to consume me, I want to tell the enemy, “I don’t care. Even if God does not save me from this, I will not give in to your attempts to overwhelm me with worry, fear or doubt.”

Our hope has to be anchored in Jesus and what He can do. Not what if thoughts, consuming us with fear and doubt regarding what the enemy might do.

Even if. Not what if.

Jesus is our hope. He is not our challenge. He

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Grief Truly Does Absorb Us

I once read that grief is like absorption. It occupies or fills us. Involves our full attention. Swallows up the identity. Soaks up; absorbs us.

I agree with those thoughts. Grief comes over us in waves. It can be like trying to stand in the ocean when there are hurricane force winds. The emotions just seem to overtake us and knock us completely down. At times, grief can consume us to the point of curling up in a fetal position and sobbing.

The waves of grief that knock us down can be met with the calming of the waters, blue skies and sunshine. We just have to look up to see them.

“When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.” - Psalm 94:19 (ESV)

Grief is inevitable. You and I will face grief and sadness. But we

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