When I Remember

Did y’all have a good weekend?

Coeur d’Alene, ID hosted the Ironman triathlon yesterday. I decided not to enter this year. Or last. Truth is, I never will enter it. I can’t even comprehend swimming 2.4 miles, then jumping out of the water to hop onto your bike to cycle 112 miles and then, when most folks would be flat out dead, run a full marathon of 26.2 miles. Ironman (woman) is right! Unbelievable!

1,760 triathletes from around the world competed right here in my own backyard. Winners’ times were 8:23:29 (men) and 9:59:08 (women). In honor of them, so I could call myself an athlete, too, I rode my bike about 11 miles yesterday afternoon. Now that was a nice bit of exercise. Felt great. For the Ironman athletes, however, that would be like a stroll from the kitchen to the living room! I do plan on riding much farther than that most rides this summer.

I can’t even fathom such strength, endurance and perseverance such a competition requires. If they are willing to make the necessary monumental daily sacrifices to train as they do for a prize that is only temporary and of no eternal value (though something certainly to be proud of), how much more should I, as a Christian, run my spiritual race with endurance? My prize is the crown of life. Heaven. Spending eternity with Christ Himself!

What I love about God, though, is He’s not asking me to do this in my own strength. Knows I can’t. Nobody can win this metaphorical race without the wind of the Holy Spirit at our backs. God through Christ gives me the strength to run the race set for me each day. My race is not the same as yours. We’re each on a different course. My goal is not to beat your time. Or accomplish what you accomplish. I am to be obedient to what God has called me to do. Scripture tells me that I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for me to do. That is so cool to me. Gives me purpose. Gives me a reason to run.

Today’s the beginning of a new week. An opportunity to trust God in a new and deeper way. A fresh start. I want to run my course with endurance. Walk in God’s grace. Breathe it in moment by moment.

It’s raining outside. How gracious of God to give the triathletes a beautiful day yesterday to compete. Today it would have been more difficult.

Have a good day all.

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. (2 Timothy 4:6-8)

Almost the weekend. Think I’ll do a little cycling. It’s been light past 9 p.m. I’m growing accustomed to taking nice walks just as the sun begins to set. I love summer. Terri and Allison, thanks so much for leaving your comments. I love knowing that I’m not alone out in cyberspace here. And my sweet friend, Patsy. Thanks so much for your private note. So great to hear from you.

As a kid, I enjoyed painting Paint-By-Numbers, although I generally didn’t do anything with them once I finished. Just thought painting them was about as close to being an artist that I’d ever get. My dad once painted a set of Mary and Joseph, and gave the framed set to his parents one Christmas. That same year, I think, I decided to paint one for my other grandma (my mom’s mom) of this winter scene. She hung it in her bedroom for years. I didn’t think it turned out that great but you know grandmas. And mine was the best. If her granddaughter decided to paint her a picture, far as she was concerned, it was worthy of a place of prominence.

My favorite part of painting was the first hour. I’d slip the white crisp canvas from the box and study it. Which color should I start with first? I’d stare back at the canvas and make my decision. Immediately I’d grow anxious. There just can’t be enough paint in those little tubs to paint all those parts, I’d tell my dad. I’m going to run out for sure. I just know it.

There’s enough paint, Gayle, he’d say.

Now there was one way I could run out and this happened more than once. I’d become too eager and continue painting after I should have stopped to allow the canvas to dry. Then I’d accidentally rest the side of my palm on the canvas and instantly smear what I’d just painted.
Drat. That’s why my dad would always remind me to begin in the center of the canvas. Then the risk of inadvertently resting my hand on wet paint was minimized—at least in theory.

Now I’d have to paint this part over. Surely, I won’t have enough paint now. I’d start to try and fix it right then. My parents would step in and say, “Put it away now.” They’d recognize my frustration escalating and knew if I continued then, surely I’d ruin the thing entirely. Better to start fresh the next day. Just so hard to leave a project when it’s looking its worst, I think.

I’m no Rembrandt so I really wasn’t striving for perfection when I painted these pictures. Still, I thought it a reasonable goal that my painting would resemble the cover on the box. Usually they turned out okay, though never as good as I wanted them to. With the one I painted for my grandma, I did in fact run out of the brown paint when I came to this one last branch. I’d messed up pretty bad. So, instead of a light dusting of snow on top, I had to paint the entire branch white. It looked funny and bugged me every time I visited her. But I tried to remember I was only around 12 or so. What should I expect? I’m glad she hung it. My grandma always made me feel treasured.

In Peter’s second epistle, he writes:

Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord, as His divine power has given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us by glory and virtue, by which have been given to us exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these you may be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust. (2 Peter 1:3,4)

The manufacturer of the paint by numbers supplied just enough paint barring any catastrophes. So unlike God. Through Jesus Christ, God’s grace flows abundantly and He so willingly and joyfully supplies us with all we need for every area of my life.

Not a day goes by that I don’t “feel” like my “tub of paint will run out.” Sometimes I look at my resources and I think it “has run out.” Just like when I tried to paint the brown branch and had to improvise with white because no brown was left. I did run out.

As a Christian, God wants me thinking about His supply, though, not mine. He doesn’t even want me to rely on my tub of paint. He knows it’s pitifully small and the colors are dull. Won’t find much kindness, patience, love, good will in my tub of paint. Ah, but when I use His paints—His resources—there is ample.

When I am weak, He is strong.

“Grace and peace be multiplied to you.” Now I like the sound of that. God doesn’t just give me a little of His grace and peace. He multiplies it! Everything I need to live this day in a matter that will be God honouring and filled with peace and joy and gratitude are found in Him. And this has nothing to do with circumstances. It’s what’s happening on the inside of my heart that I’m talking about here. Not the outside.

Okay, I think I’ve stumbled on to an analogy with this paint by number thing that I could play around with all day. Suddenly so many Bible stories and verses come to mind. But I must get to work so I’m stopping here.

Take good care everybody and see you back on Monday.

How y’all doing out there?

Several years ago, I received an email from my father’s cousin, my second cousin. He’d been researching extensively the DeSalles Family genealogy and.wrote to tell me:

“I am the 37th great granddaughter of Charlemagne (Charles I), King of France, born April 2, 742, and succeeded his father in 768. On Christmas day 800 he was proclaimed emperor of the Romans and the successor of Caesar Augustus and Constantine by Pope Leo III. He died January 28, 814. Between my 24th great grandfather Sancho I, King of Portugal, and Charlemagne, I have 12 more great grandfathers who were kings. I can now claim that I’m a descendent from royalty.”

This sounded impressive and I got excited. But at the time I received this I was studying 1 Samuel, and the lives of Saul and David. Suddenly I was curious. Was Charles, King of France a good king or a wicked king? I know now he was in fact a very good king but at the time I decided I’d better not boast about my heritage until I learn whether he was a reputable king or not.

And this got me thinking. I like the feeling of being related to “royalty.” Something so, well, regal, about tracing my heritage back to a king, and all the way back to 768. Somehow, it just made me day. Ah, but then this verse came to mind.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” (1 Peter 2:9-10)

Now this is a heritage I will boast in. And I thought it was cool to discover that I was related to a bonafide king. Fact is, though, absolutely nothing compares with the extraordinary privilege and honor—not to mention the actual revelation itself—of knowing that while I did absolutely nothing to make this happen, I have been adopted into the family of God through Jesus Christ. Thank you, Jesus.

It’s by reading and studying through the Old Testament that I am able to begin to understand New Testament concepts better such as “chosen people” and “royal priesthood.”

Yes, I’ll admit it. I was fascinated to learn that as part of my heritage I was the 37th granddaughter of a mighty fine king. But really, does it matter? After all, Scripture teaches that through Christ, I have been grafted into the family of God. I already am a daughter of a King — not even a granddaughter. A daughter.

Reminds me of a poem I wrote oh a good 30 years ago:

AWARENESS

I didn’t even know
it was pain that I was feeling
until You comforted me.

And I didn’t realize
the encouragement I needed
until You told me I was special.

I wasn’t aware
I had so much to offer
until You told me I was the daughter of a King,

And I never understood
the loneliness I felt,
until You said You’d be my Friend.

©1974 Gayle DeSalles

Happy Monday. Well it rained so hard on Friday night, I decided not to go to the parade. Saturday offered up a few hours of sunshine so I did head down to look at the old classic cars. They really are cool. With all the people, it was quite amazing and quite a gift from God that I ran into a good friend of mine whose family splits their time between here and California and hung with them for an hour or so.

Gorgeous day today. Supposed to hit 86 degrees. That’s definitely on the warm side. Summer begins officially tomorrow but decided to show up today. I’m so ready. As I was thinking of warm summer days, this picture came into view.

I’m attending a summer wedding. The church hot, the air stuffy. I feel a bit ashamed to admit it, but I’m bored. The church is large and the service long. I want the wedding to be over so I can get some fresh air. Of course, I’m mindful that this is a wedding, the most exciting day of this couple’s lives. I wish them well. I really do. But they’re not friends. More acquaintances. I don’t remember why I chose to go in the first place.

I glance over to my right and my attention is suddenly delightfully diverted by the exchange between my friend and his three-year-old-son sitting on his lap. While the bride and groom recite their vows, Aaron squirms in his daddy’s lap. Attempting to entertain his young son who is not misbehaving, but painfully bored just like me, Kelley pulls a quarter from his pocket. Then taking a pencil from the pew in front of him, draws around the quarter and hands Aaron the pencil to color in the circle.

Aaron vigorously colors the best he can, trying to stay inside the lines. But when finished, it seems he has scribbled as much on the outside of the circle as the inside. I know, it’s rather pathetic if I’m finding this more entertaining than the reason for this gathering, but frankly, I’m really hot and really bored. I keep watching. Now that Aaron’s finished, Kelley takes the pencil from his son’s hand and with the eraser, begins erasing the outside of the quarter. Kelley flicks away the eraser shavings and Aaron’s drawing now looks perfect. Colored within the lines. No mistakes.

I’m not looking for any epiphany here but God decides to give me one any way. Kelley has no idea I’m even watching him, and he certainly can’t know (nor me, for that matter) that in that moment God would teach me a lesson that would stick with me for the next 25 years—a lesson about grace. There seated next to Kelly, unknown to him, God ever so quietly whispered in my heart:

That’s what I do with you every day, Gayle. I set before you a challenge or an opportunity to serve me. You try your best to obey, to accomplish what you think I want. You try so hard to do your best and “color inside the lines.” But you’re only “three.” Though you’re clearly an adult woman, in My eyes, you’re just a snotty-nosed little kid that I love dearly. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t color inside the lines. You make mistakes. You need my help. You need my cleansing. You need my forgiveness. You need Me for everything.

And so I come along and take My eraser—that is My grace—and erase the outside of the circle, that is your mistakes, your sins, your failures. I love it when you ask me to. But even if you don’t, chances are, I’ll do it anyway. Aaron didn’t ask his father to erase the outside the circle. In fact, he wasn’t even cognizant that it wasn’t just right. But Kelley knew. And I always know.

What a kind, loving, gracious God I serve. God drove home His point. “Just as you see Aaron’s messy coloring transformed into a perfectly colored circle because of his dad’s gentle touch, so your life will be marked by My grace, Gayle. And the world will see in you a life filled with joy and contentment because of Me. Then will I be glorified.”

Is it any wonder that I have not forgotten this sweet lesson all these years later?

Blessings all.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:8-10)

Friday again. Oh boy. A rainy day here. May last all day. Summer has been a little slow in coming, though it does have until Tuesday to officially get its act together. I hope the weather clears up later.

This Father’s Day weekend marks the 15th annual “Car d’ Alene Classic Car Show” here in Coeur d’ Alene. Perfect for the ultimate car enthusiast except you don’t have even have to be one to enjoy yourself. I went last year for the first time and had a terrific time. Tonight if it’s not raining, I’ll head downtown to watch over 600 cars, ’78 and older’, cruise downtown. Tomorrow, the cars will be lined up along the street and can be viewed at your leisure. All the while, vintage 50’s and 60’s tunes will be blaring from loud speakers. Last year, I believe it was in the 80’s. Hot! I so hope the sun comes out.

As an avid people watcher, I’m in my element. And what a day for stories. Men and women, now in their 70’s reminisce when they first got such a car, or maybe children speak of when their parents or grandparents did. I love eaves dropping, without appearing conspicuous, straining to hear the stories family members and friends share with one another about these cars and the memories they evoke. How often will I hear on such a day, “Wow, I haven’t thought about that in 30 years.”

Happened to me last year. I’m strolling along and land in front of one gorgeous ’68 red Ford Mustang. I thought that car was cool back then. Or maybe it was “cherry”? Or was it “boss”? Suddenly I’m whisked back to the 7th grade at El Dorado Elementary in Concord, California. Okay, so, I would have preferred another memory since junior high was not my favorite time of life, but you get the point.

I welcome any opportunity to remind me of God’s faithfulness. It’s become a habit for me. A deliberate choice. Everywhere I go, I say, “God show Yourself in your creation right now, show Yourself through the ridiculously simple. I don’t care a bit of someone would think what’s making me smile at this moment is stupid.” On God’s quietest day, He loves to answer such prayers, I’m totally convinced.

For example, there’s this wonderful “penny” candy store on Sherman Avenue in downtown Coeur d’ Alene. As you step inside, you’re greeted with an entire store filled with apple barrels of various candies, many reminiscent of decades ago and no longer available in grocery stores. A couple of weeks ago I’d taken an out-of-town guest there. My eyes fell on a barrel of miniature “Big Hunks.” I bet I hadn’t had a “Big Hunk” in 30 years! Maybe longer! The taffy is not too hot on the teeth, but I figured one piece wouldn’t hurt. As I chewed my mini Big Hunt, I reflected on trips to the local dime store when my family used to visit my grandma in San Francisco. A delightful memory. I thanked God for my grandma, who long ago went Home.

As I view all the classic cars this weekend and the sounds of “Surfing USA” or “Duke of Earl,” blaring from the speakers, I’ll definitely be in the middle of this moment, enjoying this day God has created. But on a whole other level, I’ll be thinking back as well. Maybe it won’t even be some classic car that triggers the memory. Maybe it will simply be a child slurping on a snow cone or watch her plaster her face with cotton candy. Maybe it will be observing some elderly couple shuffling down the street. The husband stops, points to the car and turns to his wife, with a twinkle in his eye, “Remember, Honey. . . “ She blushes and clasps his hand.

Remembering God’s past faithfulness to me will always cause me to trust Him for the future. As What’s most amazing to me—well, everything is most amazing to me about God—is that even during the many years I didn’t know Him so I couldn’t trust Him, He was looking out for me. Even during the years when any thought of God seldom entered my mind except for church on Sundays, I was always on His mind. God from the foundation of the earth was paving the way for the time that I would eventually come to know Him and love Him as I do today.

Have a great weekend! We really do need the rain here, but I wish God would reschedule it until Monday. J

You guided my conception and formed me in the womb. You clothed me with skin and flesh, and you knit my bones and sinews together. You gave me life and showed me your unfailing love. My life was preserved by your care. (Job 10:10-12, NLT)