When I accepted Jesus I was eight years old and it was at a Southern Baptist Church in San Pablo, California. I just decided one day that I was ready. No one spoke to me about it—yes, God was in our home, but I never felt pressured—Jesus was there and I was ready for Him.
I wanted the same for my children. I wanted it to be a quiet, peaceful union—between the two of them—Jesus and my child. My daughter ask Jesus in her heart when she was nine years old and she was in her room. She didn’t make a big announcement about it; however she did tell me shortly, she knew my husband and I would want to know. We were so happy and thankful.
Our son is a different story. Currently he is in the fourth grade. Getting information out of him if it doesn’t relate to sports or his friends can be difficult. I know he loves the Lord—I just want to know more.
Time was ticking and I’m not the most patient person on the planet, so while I was doing dishes the other night and my son was working on his homework, I decided to ask him if he ever thought of asking Jesus into his heart.
Without hesitating he replied, “Oh yeah, I did that last year on the playground at school.” ‘What’ was my first thought, followed by—‘on the playground!’ He continued, “Yeah, we talked in class about how Jesus needs to be in your life and how you need to ask him into your heart and I thought I haven’t done that yet, so when I went out on the playground at recess it felt like Jesus was walking with me, so I asked Him if he’d like to come into my heart and make me whole—and that was it.”
At this point I was crying while I was doing dishes and I let the water run. I thought how blessed we are that my son goes to a school where they are feeding his soul just as much as they are feeding his mind. And on the playground he wasn’t walking with one of his friends, he was walking with Jesus.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Revealing
Since my outing with Thor—we have become (drum roll please) “athletes”. We run about five to six days a week and our distance varies from 1.75 miles to 3.5 miles. Okay trust me we aren’t sprinting the entire way—we do our warm-up walk . Then we start our jog and Thor being the beast he is requires a cool down walk for about two blocks prior to getting home.
Actually since we became “athletes” Thor listens better and heels, and best yet he isn’t that interested in attacking anyone else’s dog (so embarrassing!). However, you can see his eyes dart off to look at the other person’s dog as we jog pass—I can almost hear him say to the dog, “next time, you just wait, you’ll be mine.”
In my head I have this vision of the two of us jogging, looking like true athletes—I even joke about it at work—they are sick of hearing me gloat. Thor is a big muscular dog and I’m tall, we must look fabulous I think to myself.
The other day my daughter wanted to join us so I let her. She had just gotten over the flu so I thought it best not to run, instead we took a long walk. At one point my daughter asked if she could hold Thor’s lead. He looked tired and we didn’t see any dogs around so I handed the leash over to her.
The two of them moved ahead of me and before I knew it they started a light jog. Oh wow! Thor looked like a pig running, not this big massive, muscular animal I had created in my mind—he looked hysterical! His movements weren’t anything I thought, his legs barely moved—it was like they were stiff and he kind of waddled. Then there was the drool that was constantly coming out of his mouth splashing on to the concrete which looked like something you’d see in an alien movie—what an awakening.
Now my daughter on the other hand had a beautiful gait—she looked lovely, no doubt takes after her mother… Or so I hope!
Actually since we became “athletes” Thor listens better and heels, and best yet he isn’t that interested in attacking anyone else’s dog (so embarrassing!). However, you can see his eyes dart off to look at the other person’s dog as we jog pass—I can almost hear him say to the dog, “next time, you just wait, you’ll be mine.”
In my head I have this vision of the two of us jogging, looking like true athletes—I even joke about it at work—they are sick of hearing me gloat. Thor is a big muscular dog and I’m tall, we must look fabulous I think to myself.
The other day my daughter wanted to join us so I let her. She had just gotten over the flu so I thought it best not to run, instead we took a long walk. At one point my daughter asked if she could hold Thor’s lead. He looked tired and we didn’t see any dogs around so I handed the leash over to her.
The two of them moved ahead of me and before I knew it they started a light jog. Oh wow! Thor looked like a pig running, not this big massive, muscular animal I had created in my mind—he looked hysterical! His movements weren’t anything I thought, his legs barely moved—it was like they were stiff and he kind of waddled. Then there was the drool that was constantly coming out of his mouth splashing on to the concrete which looked like something you’d see in an alien movie—what an awakening.
Now my daughter on the other hand had a beautiful gait—she looked lovely, no doubt takes after her mother… Or so I hope!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Eye of the Tiger
Most of you know I have a dog. A big dog by most people’s standards—he’s a Dogue De Bordeaux or for us “Americans” a French Mastiff and being two he’s not quite up to his fighting weight, but he’s about 125 (yeah, I wish I was 125) but whatever. Anyway, Thor, that’s his name, and I walk a lot in our neighborhood and we have developed two different routes— long and short.
Thor’s pretty smart, when we are on the long route and we haven’t walked in a while, he knows the short-cuts and tries to make the turns to go home sooner. I pull him and tell him “no way mister, all the way!” and he looks at me like “really, I know you want to go home, there’s chocolate waiting for you.”
So last Friday when I got home from work I decided we’d go out of our comfort zone and leave the “compound” of our neighborhood and walk to where my son was practicing basketball at Creekside school—no more than a four mile walk at the most.
My daughter looked frightened when I told her where we were going—“bring your phone” she warned me…. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied, tucking my cell phone in my sweat pants pocket.
Thor and I leave the house and turn the opposite direction than we ever have—he looked at me like “what the heck!” Before I know it we are on the streets of Rohnert Part at night and it looks a lot different. Cars are whizzing by, the lights are so bright, Thor went from looking like a big tough Mastiff to a shaking Chihuahua. “It’s okay Thor,” I told him, “we’re good.” Honestly, I started to get a little scared myself, but for my dog, I had to stay strong.
The estimated 25 minute walk was taking much longer than I thought, so I decided it would be best to jog, I looked at Thor and stated these four little words, “Eye of the Tiger” and away we went. He never went ahead of me, or behind me, just to my side like a true partner—we jogged like we had been doing it for years, and we didn’t stop we just kept going until we got to the school—my husband said it was the adrenal, I say it’s because Thor and I are really “athletes” in the making.
Anyway, we finally made it to the school and my phone starts ringing from my panicked daughter. I don’t see my husband’s car so I call him. He tells me he’s at his brother’s house and he’ll be there shortly. I look in the gym to find my son and I don’t see him, wait I don’t see anyone I know… I call my husband back, he informs me they moved the practice to another school’s gym and it’s another three miles down the road—didn’t I know that?
Thor’s pretty smart, when we are on the long route and we haven’t walked in a while, he knows the short-cuts and tries to make the turns to go home sooner. I pull him and tell him “no way mister, all the way!” and he looks at me like “really, I know you want to go home, there’s chocolate waiting for you.”
So last Friday when I got home from work I decided we’d go out of our comfort zone and leave the “compound” of our neighborhood and walk to where my son was practicing basketball at Creekside school—no more than a four mile walk at the most.
My daughter looked frightened when I told her where we were going—“bring your phone” she warned me…. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied, tucking my cell phone in my sweat pants pocket.
Thor and I leave the house and turn the opposite direction than we ever have—he looked at me like “what the heck!” Before I know it we are on the streets of Rohnert Part at night and it looks a lot different. Cars are whizzing by, the lights are so bright, Thor went from looking like a big tough Mastiff to a shaking Chihuahua. “It’s okay Thor,” I told him, “we’re good.” Honestly, I started to get a little scared myself, but for my dog, I had to stay strong.
The estimated 25 minute walk was taking much longer than I thought, so I decided it would be best to jog, I looked at Thor and stated these four little words, “Eye of the Tiger” and away we went. He never went ahead of me, or behind me, just to my side like a true partner—we jogged like we had been doing it for years, and we didn’t stop we just kept going until we got to the school—my husband said it was the adrenal, I say it’s because Thor and I are really “athletes” in the making.
Anyway, we finally made it to the school and my phone starts ringing from my panicked daughter. I don’t see my husband’s car so I call him. He tells me he’s at his brother’s house and he’ll be there shortly. I look in the gym to find my son and I don’t see him, wait I don’t see anyone I know… I call my husband back, he informs me they moved the practice to another school’s gym and it’s another three miles down the road—didn’t I know that?
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