By Marcy Barthelette
The Lord is good to all, and His mercy is over all that He has made. Psalm 145:9 ESV
Being the outdoor enthusiasts we are, Ken and I love to make our yard attractive to lots of critters. That means planting perennials, shrubs, and trees that will provide food and habitat as well as winter cover. It also means providing food during harsh winter weather. Our oaks provide lots of acorns for squirrels and other critters who find their well-hidden stashes. Our holly bushes create a safe place for birds and mammals to hide under and within. And when the snow falls, we keep a couple of bird feeders full as well as provide suet. We feel blessed when bright flashes of red indicate the cardinals have found our smorgasbord of seeds. The cute little nuthatches entertain us with their trumpet-like call as they work the tree bark from the top down. They always work upside down to separate insects from the bark. Then there are the juncos who gather in good-sized numbers on the ground at the base of the feeding area and engage in clean-up duty. In between, we entertain various finches, wrens, and sparrows. In recent years, a few doves have accepted the invitation to a hearty meal.
My favorite is the red-bellied woodpecker. No one I’ve ever talked with can understand the name. The large bird has a bright red stripe on top of its head but none on the belly. There is a slight wash of pink but no true red. Its body is a mass of black and white striping, making it a very splashy-colored bird. Though it’s classified as a mid-sized woodpecker, its ungainly form makes eating from a feeder an act of true determination. They are too large for the feeder perches and often cling to the feeder upside down to garner the much-coveted seed. When they attack a suet cake, their bodies cover the entire feeder. Even though they are very inventive when it comes to extracting food from the feeders, they don’t intimidate smaller birds or hog the seed.
Our backyard comes alive when snow is on the ground and the feathered friends can’t forage as they normally would. We so enjoy watching their funny antics. For a while, at least, the bird buffet is a most friendly and communal experience.
And then, out of nowhere, swoops a great crowd of blackbirds. I refer to them as blackbirds because I’ve learned that several types flock together and make it more difficult for amateur bird enthusiasts to identify the species. I typically call them Grackles but they may well be Starlings. One truth supersedes species identification. These large and intimidating birds are bullies at the feeder. Their sheer numbers scare the smaller birds away. They overtake every perch and refuse to allow anyone else to eat. Their table manners are atrocious. They’re not happy to hog every perch, they also throw seed to the ground so that all their friends can eat the overflow. All the other birds are forced to wait from the cover of trees and bushes until they leave and when they do, the feeders are likely to be empty. I get so tired of accommodating these raucous, ravenous bullies that I often give up feeding the birds. That isn’t fair to our other feathered friends who bring so much enjoyment to our lives, but I wonder why I should put the seed and suet out if a huge flock of bullies is only going to take it all for themselves. And then I remember those Grackles and Starlings, whichever they may be, are God’s creations too. And while they are certainly disdained for their total decimation of croplands, they also create those phenomenal skyscapes that we sometimes witness when thousands of them flock together. In the icy cold of a winter storm, they’re probably just as hungry as our other more agreeable little feathered friends. Yet, I am reluctant to feed them.
The answer seems obvious, doesn’t it. So, why then, can’t I stop judging people by the tone of their political rhetoric, the color of their skin, their level of cleanliness? In short, why can’t I overlook their bad table manners that often resemble the bad habits of my backyard bullies? Because I’m human and I need lots of help from someone who is much larger and stronger and more capable than I am.
Help me, God, to humble myself and see all your creations, human and otherwise, as you see them and to love accordingly.
True humility is not thinking less of yourself. It is thinking of yourself less. Rick Warren
We, humans, do a lot of planning. I am famous for my planning skills….well, I call it skill. Most of my family sees it as worrying. Does it really matter how we describe it? We plan because we are concerned that things won’t turn out the way we want them to unless we make a long to-do list. And if by chance we are known for spontaneity, then often we are considered scatter-brained or frivolous. I think that planners like myself can learn a lot from Joseph, the same Joseph who, just a few short weeks ago, starred in our production of the Nativity.
plan ahead. Last week, Ken and I had to face some changes in our plans. Late each January, we join a friend of ours in her timeshare cabin at Big Cedar Wilderness Club, a resort situated adjacent to Big Cedar Lodge, and share all amenities. Last year we didn’t get to go because of COVID so this year’s trip meant a lot to us. We’d had no vacation for two years and only a few short camping trips during the pandemic. This venture was a really big deal! We were supposed to have spent 12 days lounging by the fire, pigging out on comfort food, and hiking the surrounding area to burn off all those vacation calories, but old man winter posed a serious threat to our ability to return home on checkout day. So, even though we fought the idea of leaving early, it seemed prudent to do exactly that. We began packing all our belongings on a 66º day in anticipation of ice, sleet, and snow that was forecast to begin in about 36 hours. Only in Missouri! Were we happy with our decision? Absolutely not! But safety took priority and we arrived home with a few hours to pick up essentials for storm prep, unpack and settle in before the winter fun began.
As I wrote, during the storm, we were grateful for a warm, cozy home and plenty to eat. We could enjoy the beauty of the snow from indoors and not fret over experiences missed because our plans were changed. Does this event rival the trials that Joseph faced? Of course not, but it does illustrate how God’s intervention often interrupts our lives. Yes, I’ve experienced the confusion of an unplanned pregnancy and we, as a couple, have known the discouragement of a job loss and the nightmare of relocation thirteen hundred miles away in order to secure a new work opportunity. We’ve also learned to deal with a health diagnosis that left us wondering how we would manage. But all these events were just detours from the laborious plans we had made, detours that God knew about long before they occurred. He was always prepared to lead us through those valleys.
It’s hard for us to grasp the significance of the younger brother’s request because we don’t live in a time and place where properties were passed down to the eldest son and other siblings were only willed a portion of the father’s estate, according to his whim. This brother knew he would not be the one to carry on his father’s legacy, however large or small the estate may have been, so he thought it might be a good idea to enjoy life while he had an opportunity. So he boldly, and perhaps foolishly, demanded that his father give him his share immediately and he set off to live his new life of fun and frivolity. We can only imagine how he spent his newfound wealth but we do know that the oldest profession was very much alive and wine flowed profusely in the local gathering spots. It can be supposed that gambling would have been involved and any other competitive venture would likely have been attractive, especially at this man’s young age and level of restlessness. For a time, he felt on top of the world, but as we know, he eventually ran out of funds and possessions and sunk into profound poverty. He was so hungry that he accepted work caring for swine and even sunk so low as to be willing to eat the pods that were fed to the pigs except that no one would give him any. It finally occurred to him that the servants at his father’s estate were much better off than he. But how would his father receive him after all the mistakes he had made? He knew he had no choice but to return home and commit himself to servanthood in the hope his father would take him in.
As an adult, I’ve realized that He, God, used this parable to assure us that He is always there, always eager to forgive and grant mercy, no matter how little we deserve it. It isn’t really about the young man who went astray or even the older brother who was unforgiving. It’s all about our relationship with God, the Father.
vegetables for canning. You see, we had this old pressure cooker that Mom wasn’t sure she really trusted, so when the contents had been added and the cooker was building up the necessary steam to properly cook the vegetables, I was admonished to leave the room, just in case. I really didn’t know what “just in case” meant until one day when the valve blew off that pressure cooker and we spent most of our day cleaning up the resulting mess. Believe me, I was very glad Mom had advised me well. Had I not obeyed, I could have been badly burned or cut by flying glass. That was the last time we ever used a pressure cooker in that kitchen. As a matter of fact, I still have a healthy enough respect for them that I haven’t been willing to try the newer and, supposedly, much safer models.
read vivid stories and watched enchanting movies in which steamboats huffed and puffed their way up and down the mighty Mississippi and steam locomotives traversed our nation at speeds unheard of before their invention. I’ve ridden the existing narrow gauge railways of the west through incredible gorges and across seemingly never-ending plains. Perhaps my eye even caught a glimpse of one of those bandits from the past. I reveled in the thrill of seeing that huge cloud of steam billowing into the air when the engine needed to release her pressure. The excitement of climbing aboard a steam-powered train has never left me, though it has been a few years since my last venture.
wandered through housewares at Walmart, I saw it. Appropriately named, it was the One Egg Wonder! A perfect little 41/2 inch skillet complete with a steam vented lid, a must in my world of pots and pans. I wasn’t sure I could work with this tiny pan, even on my smallest burners. But, lo and behold, it was perfect! Just spray a tiny bit of oil on the surface, set the temperature at medium-high, and add an egg. I top it with a little celery salt, then the lid and let it steam until it reaches our preferred doneness. That’s all there is to it and I cook one perfect egg after another. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve declared my love for that wonderful tiny pan. Not only are the eggs perfectly round, but they have minimal fat added to them and they slide right out of the skillet wherever I want to put them.
So how does the human mind turn off its quest for perfection? Maybe we need to give our hearts more sway in our everyday behaviors than we give our minds. Maybe we need to stop overthinking everything we do and thus lower our expectations of perfection. Maybe we need to stop believing we deserve certain rewards and remember that if we really got all that we deserved, we probably wouldn’t be remotely pleased with the result. Jesus didn’t deserve to be beaten and tortured and nailed to a cross, but it happened, nonetheless. He accepted His fate because He loved us.
later because I was trying to get my current article for the Gatepost Weekly sent to Casey. It was Christmas week and the church office had shortened hours. I knew she’d be rushed and I didn’t want to be the reason for her to get behind. The article had finally made its way through cyberspace to Casey’s desk and I had settled down to read my morning devotions over breakfast when Ken decided that I needed to hear all the important news stories of the day, and it needed to happen then. At first, I just wanted him to keep the mostly dreadful news to himself but then an unbidden thought occurred; how do I want my loving husband to view me at this moment, as Martha or Mary? Do I want to busy myself with other things (even though it was a study of the Lord’s word) or did I want to give said loving husband all my attention? After all, I still had plenty of hours to do my studying but by pursuing my own thing, Ken might feel that what he had to say was not important. What a conundrum!
Just think of the opportunities we miss by not listening. News stories, shared over breakfast, may have negligible content, but quality time with someone we love is priceless. The call of a songbird or the mighty rumble of thunder or the soft pelting of raindrops following a prolonged drought, all of these remind me that the world around us has much to offer if we only listen to her words. God’s creations offer a respite from a noisy, crowded world. Nothing relaxes me more than the infinite pounding of the ocean’s surf. It returns with such constancy as to fuel my faith that, no matter what man or woman may do to blur the beauty of His creation, He will always be there for us.
Presumably, the shepherds headed back to their flocks. After all, there were chores to be done. But how were their lives changed as they returned to their mundane existence? Did the sky seem a little bluer, the stars a little brighter, a cool drink more refreshing? We don’t know what their lives were like bec ause we never read about them again. Nor do we hear about Joseph except at the circumcision and the incident when Jesus was lost from his parents, then found teaching in the temple. Their entire story is told in fifty-one verses in the second chapter of Luke. The other Apostles share even less.
There are from time to time in our lives opportunities to share information with others. Now, that’s not any incredible flash of brilliance on my part, but rather an introduction as to the purpose of this article.
