GOT FIVE MINUTES?

Got Five Minutes?

By Letitia Suk

“Take five minutes to pray for your work each day and see what happens,” was the challenge proposed by our pastor to the congregation years ago. I remember thinking something like, “Duh!” Of course, I already pray at least five minutes a day for my work...don’t I? Surely all the praying-on-the-run I did each day for all the flying curveballs added up to more than five minutes.

The nudging continued so the next morning I grabbed a timer on the way to my prayer chair, set it for five minutes and began to pray specifically for my work. Wow, that timer took a long time to ding! Challenge accepted—I was ready to see what would happen.

Like many of us, my work is multi-faceted. So I decided to give a minute to each of the five areas for my day-to-day projects. It seemed like one minute would be easier that five. I know, wimpy, right?

The first minute I gave to my coaching clients. They invested time with me to bring focus and intentionality to their lives and I wanted to give them my best work. My writing got the next minute. The current projects, the longed-for projects, my skill and wisdom in putting words on a page. Good thing the timer rang because it was easy to zone off into work mode instead of praying.

Speaking ministry was next. Events already scheduled and those I wanted to schedule. For my communication skills to grow and for lives to be changed. A lot for one minute.

My part-time chaplain work got minute #4. Patients, sensitivity, staff and overall blessing for the hospitals.

The last minute I saved for specific work stuff on that day’s agenda: marketing, blogging, networking. This time the five minutes flew by.

He was right—things happened! I felt more partnered with God in all aspects of my work. Not just that I was working for Him but with Him as I laid the concerns out each day. I saw clearer productivity and greater results.

All these years later, I still set my timer most days. My work depends on it.

Each day holds 1440 minutes...hard to claim a legitimate excuse for not finding five of them to invest in prayer over your work. You might be amazed at the return.

P.S.—The same five-minute principle works for other areas of your life too!

ABOUT

Letitia (Tish) Suk, www.letitiasuk.com, invites women to create an intentional life centered in Jesus. She blogs at hopeforthebest.org and authored Getaway with God: The Everywoman’s Guide to Personal Retreat) and Rhythms of Renewal. She is a speaker, personal retreat guide, and life coach in the Chicago area. Find Tish: https://www.facebook.com/Letitia.Suk.Author/

VOICES FROM THE EDGE: THE HERO SAYS GOOD BYE

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:3

I'd seen her on Sunday, asleep on a pile of laundry in the basement, but she failed to show up for morning milk on Monday. Butterscotch, Bonnie's orange cat who still lives with us even though his owner has married and moved, jumped up onto the table and lapped up the milk.

"Did Sugar sleep late this morning and leave all the milk to you?" I asked the cat. He gave me a mournful meow. I patted him on the top of his head and chucked him under his furry chin, in a hurry to get Ron's breakfast and medications doled out before I headed off to work. I wasn't worried; Sugar was an adventurous little cat, often exploring boxes in the basement and too busy playing to come to meals.

But she did not show up the next morning, either. Gently, I suggested to Allen that we look around for her. Perhaps she had gotten trapped in a box of Christmas garland and couldn't get out. He gave it a half-hearted attempt, going down the basement steps and calling her name for a few minutes. He came back up and shrugged. "She's not answering me," he said.

I began to worry, not only about our missing cat but about her owner, my son who lives on the upper edges of the ASD spectrum and has a difficult time processing emotions. Often, the reality of the world is incomprehensible to him. How could I tell him I feared his cat had died?

Butterscotch kept up his mournful morning meow while devouring the bowl of milk, and I tried to suggest to Allen that Sugar might not be coming back. By Wednesday, my son convinced himself that Sugar had somehow gotten out of the house. With the influx of medical personnel who cared for my husband while I was at work, it was a possibility. We began to search in the bushes and under the deck, shaking a bag of her favorite treats to tempt her out. We left food and water outside, just in case.

There was still no Sugar on Thursday, and I did a little Google searching on the habits of cats. I was comforted to know that cats have no knowledge, and therefore no fear, of death. If, as I suspected, Sugar was now over the Rainbow Bridge with my little Cocker spaniel, Taffy, she was happy and content. There was nothing I could do for her. My job would be moving Allen past the loss of his beloved pet.

Like others on the ASD spectrum, Allen finds social situations stressful. He has only a few friends, and comes home from work each day exhausted from functioning in an environment he only partly understands. His cat, Sugar, has been his companion into adulthood, serving as his confidante. If he had a tough day, Sugar could be counted on to simply curl up on his lap. Patiently, she tried to learn the tricks he thought she should know. She, unlike humans in his life, simply accepted him for who he was.

Friday there was still no sign of Sugar, but I had managed to help Allen accept three possibilities: she was hiding in the basement and only came out for food and water at night, she had fallen asleep in the basement and passed quietly away, or she had gotten out of the house and gone to join the alley cats at the fire house. The last possibility was Allen's suggestion.

On Saturday, armed with flashlights, he agreed we should conduct a full-out search. And it did not take long to find her, huddled around the heater in a dark corner of the basement. Sadly, we wrapped her in a quilt and put her in a plastic box. I carried the box to the back deck and weighted the top down with bricks.

I took a deep breath and asked Allen what he wanted to do. Bury her? Cremate her?

But Allen was still holding out slim hope. "I don't think that's Sugar," he said. "I think it's another cat who took her place."

"Okay," I said. "But we still need to take care of her."

He shrugged. "I don't care," he said. "Do what you want."

What I wanted was to have someone else handle this, but since that never works out, I called the Royal Pet Crematorium, the place that had helped me deal with Taffy's loss. I arranged to bring her down on Sunday and carried the box to my car.

Around 9 PM Saturday night, I was attempting to read--but continually thinking about the little cat that had been our friend for so long--when Allen crept quietly into the room and sat down beside me. 

"I want her ashes," he said. 

"Okay."

"And a little cylinder with some ashes, like you have for Taffy."

"Okay."

He buried his head into my shoulder. "She was a good cat," he said.

"Yes," I said. "She was."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "She was MY cat."

And our arms around each other, we cried. 

Charlotte's Garden

Charlotte’s Garden

By Shirley Johnson

Charlotte loved to work in her garden in the morning. She could hear the morning birds greet the day with a song. The refreshing dewdrops found rest upon the garden. The flowers seemed to smile back at the sun.

Charlotte worked hard at maintaining the presentation and growth of the garden. She knew with the proper care it would not only look beautiful, but create a peaceful atmosphere for those viewing it. From childhood, she knew which of the elements and garden intruders can interfere with the presentation and growth of the garden and which are harmless.

The garden often ministered to Charlotte. She embraced the seasons of the garden. It often shared reflections of life and whispers of hope.

While working in the garden a ladybug crawled on her sleeve. There was a time many years ago if this happened she would have panicked. She smiled and laughed to herself. She thought back to when she was a very small child. She was with her mom visiting at their friend’s home. The porch provided a favorite play area. Somehow a ladybug crawled right where she sat. She cried out to her mom for help.

Charlotte’s mom came running in response to her cries. While Charlotte saw a big intruder, her mother saw a simple little ladybug. “Oh, Charlotte.” “It’s okay,” said her mom. Her mom had gardened a long time and knew the difference between a harmless bug and dangerous ones. “This is just an innocent little bug that somehow landed in the wrong place.” She calmly scooped up the ladybug with her gentle hands, opened the screen door, and let it go.

Life’s seasons have a way of presenting itself with different problems. There are times when we have real problems, big problems that we need to face, address and solve. Sometimes though, we have little irritations that invade our space. They land right where we sit in life. They have us talking, repeating, agonizing and spinning our wheels. They interfere and distract us from the purpose and plan in our lives. They “bug” us.

When those little irritations land in our space,

look at them and determine how big they are.

Perhaps there are times when we too must open the screen door and let them go.

 

ABOUT

Shirley Johnson shares inspiration and encouragement through her writing. She is a member of SCBWI and ACFW. She loves to read and has volunteered at her local Public Library as an Adult Literacy Tutor. She shares her writing on her blog. Connect with her on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

http://busylifepause.com/

https://twitter.com/shrlyjohnson

https://www.instagram.com/shrlyjohnson/?hl=en

https://www.facebook.com/shrlyjohnson

SO YoU WANT TO BE A SHEEP?

Today's guest blogger is another Word Girl friend, Maureen Hager. In our over-stressed world, Maureen has a mission to bring hope to women who have been broken. Today, she shows us how we can find rest, even if we're on the wrong path.

So You Want to be a Sheep?

By Maureen Hager

Sheep are mentioned in the Bible more than any other animal; symbolically they refer to God’s people. All the sheep that belong to the shepherd are of one flock.

God has many names; each one describes an attribute of His character. A favorite name is Yahweh-Rohi – The Lord, Our Shepherd. Here is the description of the relationship our God wants with us. The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want (Psalm 23:1).

What a beautiful picture of the rest we have in Him. Are you stressed today? Find rest in the green pastures of His finished work. Find hope and restoration as He restores your soul.

The Lord tells us in Isaiah 53:6 that most sheep will go astray and follow their own way. Are you a stubborn sheep, straying on the wrong path and in need of guidance and correction?

A shepherd’s rod redirects and corrects the sheep. The staff is used to lift and restore the sheep.  Trust and hope in the Good Shepherd to lead you out of the pit of despair.

I once traveled on the wrong path. This misguided search led me into a painful journey of drug addiction and life in a motorcycle gang. I was that stubborn sheep that got caught up in a violent gang war and became a broken victim. Crippling bullets forever changed my life.

Eventually, I encountered the hope and healing of God’s transforming love. A victorious life in Him is meant to be lived on the paths of righteousness and not in the past.

 

So why would you want to be a sheep? Like sheep, we need only to trust the Lord and follow Him. We need Jesus, our Good Shepherd to lead and guide us, to care for us, and to protect us from the enemy. What contentment and sufficiency we can have in Him.

Yahweh-Rohi leads us home. He lovingly rubs the healing oil on our broken and wounded hearts. The Shepherd knows our needs. He will restore us when we are broken, pick us up when we fall, and strengthen us in our weakness. Now that is a love I can trust!

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.                     John 10:27-28 (NJKV)

ABOUT

Maureen Hager is an author, speaker, and blogger. Her passion lies in empowering women to receive hope and healing from their brokenness through the love of God. Her testimony of deliverance and restoration has impacted women of all ages. Her book, Love’s Bullet is available Fall, 2017. Website: www.MaureenHager.com  Blog: www.OutoftheBrokenness.com