Ginger's Apartment (Moving Journal #3)

Ginger is my friend who lives in the condos near my daughter where I am considering moving. It is, as I mentioned in my previous two blogs about my upcoming move, close to my daughter Ellen's home where I would be within walking distance of her and her family which consists of El, her husband, four children, two dogs and a cat named Theodore to whom I am incredibly allergic. Theo and I do not have much of a relationship.

I'm staying in faith that God is leading me, while watching for signs of His leading (as in "faith signs" - see photo above). I went to look at Ginger's apartment just to get the feel of it. Nice layout, lots of room and a washer/dryer which the other I looked at didn't have. It so happens that the condo across the hall is vacant as the woman who owns it went to live with her children. An attempt is going to be made to contact her to see if she wants to rent it. Then Ginger and I would be next door neighbors.

It's funny how some places just feel right and others don't. Each apartment has walls and floors, window, etc. There is always a visual sense of light or lack of it. Some places feel more comfortable than others. But it's the people who give it the sense of presence, of ambiance, or lack of it. You can feel if they're happy or not in a person's home, don't you think? And it's the 'stuff' that people have that gives a place personality as if the home is an extension of one's personhood. some are stiff and cold, others are welcoming. Ginger's home is warm and gives evidence of her love for the Lord. Even if Ginger wasn't there, you could tell that about her by her "stuff."

The building in not new. I don't mind. I tell myself, if I were, say, living in Jerusalem, I would have no trouble thinking a forty year old building was just fine, new even compared to some which are as old as New Testament history that took place there. So long as the plumbing and the heat work. In Jerusalem houses often do not have heat, so this is a plus. (I have a scar on my leg from when I tripped over a space heater in Jerusalem once trying to keep warm.) I'm not in Jerusalem, of course, though it would be my first choice if all things were equal. However, it is in North Florida that I am in search of a new home. We'll see what comes of trying to contact the absent lady next door to Ginger.

The Theology of Moving (Moving Journal #2)

Moving forward on the forthcoming move (see previous blog), I went to see one of the options of the condos near my daughter. If you can tell something about a person by the wallpaper they pick out, then the woman who owned this apartment before the present tenants moved in five years ago, was a frustrated set designer for a 1929 flapper movie. Wild stuff, not to mention that the paper was close to being that old and still somehow clinging to the walls.

It was a smaller layout and... well, I found out I'm a snob. This was clearly beneath my dignity and aesthetic sensabilities. Lord, You couldn't possibly be asking me to live here. Could You? I was suddenly faced with a theological question: Is this a lesson on going to the Cross and denying myself and being satisfied with what I don't want but He's giving me? Or should I be praying in faith for God to give me something that would be a blessing to me that I would love and enjoy? I opted for the second, keeping open with Him that I really want His will. This, as it turns out, is as much of an issue of learning about God as it is about finding a new home.

The other day I spent a rather cerebral day reading and thinking, and talking with God about what I was thinking about since it was mostly about Him. It seems to me that, for those with eyes to see it (see John 3:3), history is largely God's revelation of Himself which take place in the situations of man. Each opportunity is an opportunity to learn more of God and to have Him reveal Himself to you, if you are looking to Him to do so. My move has become that kind of quest. So I'm on the alert for new God-sightings, to see where He turns up in this search for a new home. Stay tuned.

MOVING - Moving Journal #1

I have to move. I had just thanked the Lord that there was nothing I didn't like about living where I do when two days later, on Christmas day I returned from a wonderful family time to find taped to my door a notice. It said, without any holiday greeting whatsoever, mind you, that it is time to renew my lease and oh, by the way, there's a considerable increase in the rent.

My Mom and I had moved to the south seven years ago from Philly. No point in buying something for both of us when she was 85. That was just the practicality of the situation. We found this lovely place which was just perfect for us. Mom happily remained with me till she was 92 and then relocated in the customary way to heaven to be with the Lord and my father. (See my previous blog about Mom.)

Two weeks later a friend moved in with me and we shared the rent which was enormously helpful since Mom's Social Security check ended when she did. However, within hours of the rent increase note on Christmas(did those people have nothing better to do that day?), my roommate informed me that now that she had her certification as a Medical Assistant and had landed a great job with a surgeon, she was going to get her own place. I could see where she'd want to. Everything here, except what is in her bedroom,is mine.

I was now left with the realization that I cannot continue to live in my lovely townhome near the pond (yes, that photo is my pond) with the duckies and herons,and the meadow with the wildflowers, and near my friend Sandy who loves to drive so when we go places together I don't have to. Suddenly I felt dislocated, unconnected, and a bit in shock.

There's only one thing to do when you feel like that - go to God and trust that He has a plan. You just have to find out what it is - that's the tricky part sometimes. I sat in my prayer-chair and asked God what He wanted me to do. I listened. Nothing. Well Lord, I said. I'm going to just read in my Bible where I was up to already. Would you please speak to me about all this. None of this flip open the Bible and point and expect that the verse you land on is His will. Risky business, as far as I'm concerned. As I picked up where I last stopped reading I read,"...lived with their relatives in Jerusalem opposite their other relatives" (1 Chron 8:32). It seemed as clear as day to me. I think God is telling me that I'm suppposed to live near my daughter Ellen and her family. It's not Jerusalem, but the principle is the same - live near your relatives. Ellen and the kids seemed to like the idea as well.

I called my friend Ginger who lives in an condo complex within walking distance of Ellen's home to ask if she knew of any condos for rent. She would check. A day later Ellen and I went to go look at one of several that were available. I gave it only a brief look as it wouldn't be the unit I would take, but it could work. The others are on the first floor which I would prefer. So arrangements were made for me to look at the other units.

In the mean time, even though my faith is firmly in God's caretaking of me, I am going through somewhat of a greiving over loosing my lovely townhome near the pond.... oh you know. It is possible to have faith in God and still feel a bit sad over a loss at the same time.

I don't know who will read this, or even care about me moving, but I'm going to share this anyway - my way of processing through it. Writers, which I am, process by writing. Maybe others will be moving who will be glad to know someone else is sharing their experience.

Looking Back, Looking Foward

As I look down the corridors of history in my reading, I see where God’s people, both the true Christians and the faithful Jews, have been people of extraordinary character and integrity who remained locked in on God and His Word no matter what. These men and women were pillars of faith whose testimonies still strengthen us. Among them was my own great-grandfather. My Dad called him Zaida, which means Grandfather in Yiddish. He was an orthodox rabbi in Russia when the communist revolution was stirring. All clergymen were ordered to preach only the communist doctrine. But Zaida refused to stop preaching God’s Word to his flock. As a man of Torah, he was also committed to meeting the practical needs of his people, finding ways to collect food and clothing for them when poverty threatened because of persecution. Eventually, he and others were able to flee to America, a story in itself, to save their lives. Thank God there was a free America to flee to. May it always be the land of the free and the home of the brave. Amen.

I have a book Zaida wrote in which the elders of his congregation wrote a preface telling what I just told you. If he could speak to us today, he would tell us what he told his flock—God is faithful, His Word is true, He will protect and defend you as He keeps your mind and heart close to His own. Stay faithful because He is faithful.

It is just possible that we, of all the people who have ever lived on the earth, could be those whom God ordained before the foundation of the world to be His “end time people.” He chose us for such a time as this. To me, this means that He will enable those who are truly His to know Him as the Bride He is coming for, people whom He will anoint, empower and enable to be witnesses to His glory, holiness, love and truth. If we are to be a light in the darkness, we must walk in light - His light. It is never dark when you're with Him.

Today is a good day to put your faith in Yeshua (Jesus) who is the Light of the world. Just as the oil for the eternal lamp in the Temple was insufficient to keep it lit in the Hanukkah story, but God kept it lit till the eighth day when more oil would be available, in the same way, Yeshua will keep your light lit until the eighth day. Eight in the Bible always represents new beginnings. When Yeshua returns to the earth, it will indeed be a new beginning. In the mean time, He is preparing His people to be like those who were intent on purifying the temple after it had been defiled. The Holy Spirit will do a work of purification in each of our lives if we are willing. The only thing God really ever asked of HIs people is that we believe and trust in Him. If not now, when? If not you, who?

Somewhere Over the Hanukkah Rainbow

Hanukkah is early this year, making my inter-cultural holiday keeping somewhat complicated. For instance, I hold a monthly Shabbat service on the third Friday of each month in my congregation to teach the church about the Jewish roots of our faith. December would naturally be the time to share about Hanukkah. Three years ago I gathered a cast and we did the Hanukkah play that I had written and done with my grandchildren some years before. It now included Judah Maccabee wielding a Star Wars light saber to drive nasty Antiochus out of the Temple. Afterwards, we feasted on sufganiote which is Hebrew for jelly donuts which for some reason are traditional for Hanukkah. I think it has to do with the oil they are fried in. One year I flew to Israel during Hanukkah and the El Al ticket counter had a HUGE plate of sufganiote for all to share. Yum.

This year, Hanukkah being early, starts at sundown on December 1st and ends eight days later. Therefore, Hanukkah will be over by the third Friday of December when our Second Annual Hanukkah Talent Show will take place. Not to worry, the spirit is always there. And so will the jelly donuts.

Last year I had this idea to expand the play to whatever wonderful talents others have. It was a raving success and so we are now preparing for the Second Annual. The diversity of skits, songs and whatevers reveal the creativity among us. This year The Women's Bible Study Choir will be singing a rewritten rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" relating said place to heaven where troubles will have long since melted away like lemon drops, and a reading of The Night Before Hanukkah will, no doubt, enthrall the hearts of all. Plus we do have some beautiful voices who will surely move at least some of us to tears with the meaningful songs they will be singing. Whether silly or serious, the joy of the Lord will undoubtedly fill our hearts.

Hanukkah is the time to celebrate how God kept the light in the Temple menorah lit for eight days on only one day's worth of oil while they made more. Yeshua (Jesus) observed Hanukkah. John 10:22-39 records Him having been at the Temple for the winter occasion. Since He is the Light of the world, as I light my candles each night of Hanukkah, I light them in recognition that He is the Light of my own life and that in so many ways, life is a giant talent show for which He is the Supreme Director and Producer and it is His joy that floods it all. Happy Hanukkah to you, each and every one, Jewish or not. The Light of the World is available to everyone. May His light be your light always.

Saving A Marine on Veteran's Day

It's Veteran's Day. November 11, 2010. My neighbor, Patrick, called to tell me a very drunk Marine in full dress uniform was asleep on my doorstep. Patrick tried to get him up. Couldn’t. Tried to call our neighborhood Security. Couldn’t get through. He called me to tell me, suggesting I might want to call 911. I looked out the window and sure enough there was the Marine in full dress uniform. Now he was sitting in the rocking chair that I fished out of the trash a while back and painted blue, his uniform an almost matching color, his eyes closed, rocking ever so slightly.

Lord, what do you want me to do? No sense of alarm. Peace. I knew the Lord was in this. I stepped out the door and quietly said, "Soldier," not to frighten him. He managed to lift his eye lids and look at me briefly. It was obvious he was still pretty drunk. "Are you okay?" He answered very quietly and with some difficulty, "Yes ma'am." He did ask me not to call the police. I assured him I wasn't going to and said, "If God brought you to my doorstep it’s for a reason. He evidently is reaching out to you." He just licked his lips like he was dry and continued rocking, eyes staring blankly ahead. No he didn't want any water. And no he didn't want a cup of coffee. He had no idea where he was or, "worse yet," he said, he didn't know how he got there. Angels, I expect, had hand delivered him to me.

I managed to find out he had joined the Marines at 18 and was now 30 and had returned from Iraq recently. I asked him if anyone had ever told him that God loves him and has a plan for his life? "The Lord saved me when I was five," he said. So where are you with the Lord now? I asked. Well, when he joined the Marines, he somehow lost touch with Jesus, it appears. I asked him if he wanted to get right with Him now. It's obvious, I told him, that the Lord wants you to know that He has you on His radar screen and that He knows exactly where you are and He's protecting you, or He wouldn't have brought you to my doorstep.

"Is it bad if I don't want to pray out loud?" he asked me. No, it's not bad, I told him. If you want to pray inside yourself and talk to Him, it's Him you need to talk to, not me. You can just tell Him, "Jesus, forgive my sins. Here's my life." He sat staring for a few more minutes, and I could see a battle going on inside of him. Then he stopped rocking and closed his eyes and sat completely still for a few minutes. Then looked up at me briefly, and I knew he'd just given his heart back to Jesus. When I asked him if he had, as it was obvious it would have been hard for him to say it, he responded again with, "Yes, Ma'am." I said, "Welcome home, J., to the Lord." I offered him my hand and for the first time he looked right at me as he took my hand and held it for a few seconds and I saw the person he is, not just a lost and drunk Marine.

Then I said, I know you've been trained to not show emotions, but I see an awful lot going on in your eyes. What's happening, J? At this he managed to whisper, "I miss my grandpa." He had died recently, he told me. He had told his grandpa about Jesus when he was eleven years old, but he doesn't know if he recieved the Lord or not and he was scared. I assured him he would have to leave that in Jesus' hands, but the important thing today was that he had put his own life into Jesus' hands.

He had called a buddy to come and get him, handing me the phone to tell the buddy, David, where he was. When David arrived, J managed to stand up. I was surprised to see how tall he was. He further surprised me by turning to me and hugging me and saying, "Thank you, Ma'am." I walked him to the car and handed him over to David, as a new man, even if he was still a bit wobbly. Hopefully, this will be a Veteran's Day he will never forget. Nor will I.

Infinite Compassion

My mom went home to be with the Lord on August 26th, 2010. She was 92 and the sweetest Jewish lady you’d ever want to meet. OK, true, the photo was taken a few years earlier, but she was still beautiful, and yes, that's her own brown hair with hardly any grey hair. I can’t imagine anyone having anything but good things to say about her. She’s known the Lord since 1977, having come to the Lord in her sixties. A Jewish woman of that age with an orthodox Jewish upbringing coming to the Lord was not a usual occurrence at that time. (Still isn't.)

I share this with you about my Mom to let you know of the Lord's faithfulness in the last moments of our lives when we’re His. She went through three difficult days (death is still an enemy!) during which we watched her detach from this life, including saying goodbye to us, to a life that no longer had any meaning to her – only the people did, and even to Lizzie, our doggie, whispering to her, “You’ve been a very good puppy dog.”

Nothing was left to be said. We had said all the I love you’s, and thank you for being you’s. We had asked for forgiveness of each other years ago for any way we had hurt each other. After all, I was an unsaved teenager at one time – that’s cause to ask for forgiveness in itself. There was only love. It had been a privilege to be her caretaker, to honor my mother this way. I know that not every mother is as delightful and as easy to be with as mine, so she made caring for her easy. She was a role model of goodness, graciousness and generosity of heart to the end, even in the way she died.

That Saturday my daughters and their families, consisting of two sons-in-law, six grandchildren and three dogs went to the beach. Mom was always called "Gra," short for Grammom. The kids wrote her full name and "Gra" underneath in the sand. Libi whose name means "My heart" in Hebrew, wrote "We love you" under her name and drew a heart around the names in the sand upside down. "So she can read it from heaven either way if she's looking down," she said. We took a few moments to thank God for Gra and to remember things we loved about her. We were comforted in the Lord that she was in a much better place, but still, we deeply missed her as we left the beach, all of us together for the first time without her.

Two days later, to soothe our souls, my daughter Jenny and I went into the quaint little town she and her family live close to on the ocean here in Florida. We had lunch at a French restaurant, and dessert in a Belgian one. In the town is a synagogue which is over 100 years old, with beautiful stained glass windows and charming architecture. Jenny wanted to show it to me so we found an open door and went in. Three people were speaking together and turned to greet us with questioning looks on their faces as to who and why we were there as the service (It was Shabbat) was already over. Jenny had been there once before for a service and when she reminded them, they recognized her.

The older man, who turned out to be the 90 year old rabbi, greeted us warmly with an accent that sounded like my Grandmother's, a combination of English and a Russian Yiddish accent. Standing with them was a lady, also elderly, who was obviously in emotional pain. She had a handkerchief to her face and was crying, or trying not to.

Jenny asked the woman in a most tender voice why she was crying and she began to tell us, also in an accent, that a member of her family had died in Poland and she was unable to get to the funeral or be with her family. She was grieving terribly, not just for the family member she obviously loved, but also because she couldn’t be with her family so they could share their grief together. (Obviously, there was no Yeshua in her life or her deceased family member to take the sting out.) I asked her if she was the Rebbitzin (rabbi’s wife). Yes she was.

We then told her how we had just lost my Mom, so we now were sisters in grief. Jenny and I put our arms around her and cried with her. She had her head on Jenny’s shoulder while I put my arms around her too and just let the comfort of the Holy Spirit ooze into her as we silently prayed for His comfort to come to her. We just held her and let her hurt and cry and grieve while we loved on her.

That we too had just lost a loved one changed Mrs. Rabbi's sorrow from what was happening to her to sharing what three women were experiencing together. My thoughts went to something Paul once said which we were now experiencing: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Yeshua our Messiah, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God" (2 Cor. 1:3,4). It is often in comforting others that we are comforted.