I saw a sign in front of a country church: “Jesus lives in the community. He only visits church.” I’ve been intrigued with that statement ever since. I think I agree. When I read about Jesus in Scripture, he was actively out in the community doing his Father’s will everywhere he went. And, yes, he often went to the synagogue and the temple, so I’m sure he’s at church every week. But if Jesus is working everywhere and only visits church, why have church? If I asked that question of churchgoers, I would no doubt get a variety of answers. Jesus visiting there is good enough for me. But I’m meandering away from the writer’s original statement, which is, Jesus lives in the community. He’s not just around one day a week, conveniently going his way right before Sunday afternoon football comes on. At first when I read church, I thought the writer was referring to the church as church services or church buildings, not the ecclesia, the body of Christ. The more I think about it, maybe not. Let’s rephrase that: “The body of Christ lives in the community. They only visit church.” As followers of Jesus we are the body of Christ. We ought to visit church but more than that, we should be living in the community. That’s where Jesus lives and works all week long. That’s where we are the light in the darkness and the salt of the earth.

She asked what side dishes my friends wanted with their meals. After their orders, she said, “No carrots? Nobody likes carrots.” “Oh, do you have carrots? I like carrots,” friend Paula said. But she didn’t change her order from green beans. This started a discussion about the merits of carrots. “I like carrots too, but not overcooked. I like them still crunchy,” I said. Paula said Jerry (her husband) liked them that way too. She and Billie Jean said they liked theirs mushy and sweet. About that time, the waitress brought in a small bowl of carrots and set it in front of Billie Jean. Surprised, she passed the bowl over to Paula, who took one bite, declared them mushy, but not sweet enough, and passed them back. She also didn’t like the cinnamon in the carrots. That’s when the waitress came back in with a bowl of carrots for Paula, who also hadn’t ordered them. By this time, the situation was getting funny. When we had finished eating, the waitress offered to save the still uneaten bowls of carrots in a to-go box. This was too much. We broke out in the biggest laugh of the evening! Small town diners are the best!

This horse story happened several years ago before we sold our animals, but it’s too good not to tell. Four-year-old Leyden had already gotten a ride on King’s back, but he wanted to see the big chestnut quarter horse again. Hand in hand, we walked through the pasture. That’s when I saw a horse and a foal standing at a back fence. “Look, Leyden, the neighbor’s horses have come over to visit with King. Let’s go look at that new baby.” As we got closer, I saw the mare was caught in the fence, half of her body on one side and the other half in our pasture. Her back leg was bleeding above the hoof. Her foal was trying to nurse through the fence. I called Ed, telling him to bring wire clippers and a halter. He and Jeremiah, Leyden’s dad, put the halter on the mare and began cutting strand after strand of barbed wire to free her. She didn’t struggle. She may have been too tired to fight anymore and possibly dehydrated. By this time, our two donkeys decided to see what was going on. They don’t like intruders in their territory and will chase whatever dares to come around. But no worries, King immediately charged after them, running them away from the mare and foal. He did this twice while Ed and Jeremiah freed the mare and rewired the fence. I’m not one to imagine God has given animals human emotions or characteristics, but that big red horse sensed something was wrong, and the donkeys shouldn’t interfere. The donkey girls weren’t completed thwarted that day, however. Before it was over they got to chase the neighbor’s dog out of their pasture.

Do you like horses? I’ve had a love affair with horses from childhood (horses are God’s gift to teenage girls). One of my earliest memories is being up on a horse with my sister, and trying to get the horse to run. It was an old horse that had long ago retired from getting in a hurry. I finally motivated the horse to get into a trot with my little sister (she might have been 3) hanging on behind me yelling, “Slow him, She-eye, slow him!” My sister and I didn’t have any kid-safe horses as we grew up. We learned to ride the hard way, with the scars to prove it. Of course, if you’re going to ride horses, you’re going to have falls. But no more, I sold probably the last horse I will ever own a couple of years ago. I miss him, but it’s OK. I live in Texas horse country and am surrounded by horses and horse ranches. I love it! I get to see horses every day.

Didn’t go to choir practice today or to line dancing. I woke up with a symptom I won’t describe here, except to say it’s highly unpleasant. Our family got together yesterday at a restaurant to celebrate a son-in-law’s birthday. Was it something I ate? Checked with the family but all were feeling okay. I’m one of those people who, aside from random headaches, seldom gets sick. It’s been years since I’ve even had a cold. So I don’t like being slowed down. What does one do when you have to stay close to home with nothing on your agenda? Go through my closet and do a clear out? No, don’t feel like it. Reorganize my files? No, don’t feel like that either. Cooking anything is out of the question. I know, I’ll read! I always feel like that!

Out to dinner with friends the other night when one said she had to take one of her dogs to the vet. We looked at her with little smiles because we know she always has at least one doggy story every time we get together, often including photos on her cell phone. She said she bought a new dog bed for her two inside dogs, and one of them is allergic to it. She noticed its paws and bottom were getting raw so she took it to the vet for some healing ointment. This is the same dog that refuses to eat its food until it takes out a bit, carries it to the living room and examines it closely. This action is repeated three times before the dog will decide to eat its meal. Her other dog watches this routine closely and if the tidbit isn’t consumed quickly enough, snatches the food itself. Another friend asked, “Why is it you always seem to have at least one weird animal around your place?” She didn’t know, but said it was good entertainment for her and her husband.

I’ve got friends—no, not in low places, in all places! I’ve got friends from all over the world. Well, a large part of it anyway. When you work at a college for years, meeting students from many different countries, relationships are created that last forever (thanks to Facebook!). I’ve got church friends as well. And, I’ve got line dance and choir friends and artist friends and golf buddies too. I’ve got neighbor friends. Some of my closest friends are my family, because ours is a close loving family that actually enjoys being together. But, aside from family, I especially enjoy those friends I get together with every week to eat out. That’s because even after Ed died, they still include me in their circle of friends. That’s pretty special.

I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! They’ve taken my recycling away! First it was the recycle bin I put out at the curb every Wednesday. No more door to door. Recycled material had to be taken to large community bins. OK, I can do that. Then they took away those bins. Recycled materials, except glass, had to be taken to the city dump. Well, that’s a bit of a drive, but I can do that. Now, the city has decided no recycled materials accepted from outside the city limits. (They will take it if you pay them, same $18 price for any amount, which would be fine if you had a truck load.) I know, China isn’t taking our recycled trash anymore and the price per pound has dropped to almost nothing. Why were we sending it to China anyway? Why don’t we have our own companies recycling trash? I don’t know the answer, but every time I put old newspapers and magazines or a bottle or a plastic container in my trash bin, I cringe a bit. We’re junking up our beautiful world.

 

 We were at the golf course early one morning when we overheard one of our more enthusiastic golfers say: “What a great day to golf! Just took off to the course, didn’t even bother to make my bed!” A woman next to me and I exchanged glances. Maybe an eyebrow was raised. It was obvious we were the “never leave your home without making your bed” kind of people. Why is that? It made me wonder why always making my bed is so important to me? (I also have this thing about having an empty kitchen sink before I go to bed.) Do I think if I leave the house and get killed in a car wreck that someone will go to my house and be horrified to see I left my bed unmade? How crazy is that! Now I know it’s worthwhile to have good habits, but it’s not good to obsess over them. So, if you’re one of those who can ignore an unmade bed, all power to you. I don’t judge you. But if you come to my house and find my bed unmade, I’ll probably still be in it and dead!

 

Are you tied to your clock? Or watch or for many of us our cell phone that dings at us to remind us of some appointment or maybe to take a medication or pay a bill. As I was writing this, my cell phone dinged, and, of course, I had to get up from my computer, go find it and see what was going on. You know, centuries ago, time wasn’t such a taskmaster. People went by the seasons, phases of the moon and sundown and sunup. Some wiggle room when it came to time. Who cared if the lunar year wasn’t exactly the same every yearly cycle. Those concerns didn’t happen until much later. I have to admit I even have a hard time sometimes finding enough time for God. Even though I know when I slow down and take time for God, something else good happens in my life. I have more of the heart of Jesus. I find myself kinder, gentler, more forgiving. Less concerned with self. When we humans take time for God we have time to talk to a child or grandchild who seems a little sad. We have time to listen to a friend or coworker or family member who doesn’t seem his or her self lately. We have time to rejoice with those who are rejoicing and time to comfort those who are suffering. Prayer, meditation, Bible study—they’re for our good, not God’s.