The message of Easter – seeing things differently

Tomorrow is Easter – the day where Christians around the world will remember with thankfulness that Jesus Christ died on the cross so that they can have life everlasting.

I was thinking about that the other day – how horrific the crucifixion of Christ must have been for the disciples and the first believers. This faithful band walked with the son of God and watched as he healed lives and made the blind to see and the lame to walk. They watched as he cast out demons and performed miracle after miracle. The sat at his feet and listened and learned as he told parables about how to rejoice and grow and live as a Christian. They loved him. They revered him. They knew without a doubt he was the son of God – the same God who had strewn the stars across the Heavens and created the fishes of the sea and birds of the air and all life on earth.

And here they were, this motley band of new Christians, watching in horror as the son of God was stoned and spat upon and beaten until the ground was red with holy blood. They wept and internally rebelled as he was crucified but were ultimately so filled with terror that they denied him. And when it was finished they carried away his mutilated body, gently washed him, and sorrowfully placed him in a tomb. It was finished. Ended before it started.

And then…

On the third day he rose again! And they beheld his glory and rejoiced.

So many times in our lives we view things with earthly eyes. Sometimes our life events are big unexpected things: a job is lost, a house burns, a child is born with disabilities. Sometimes they aren’t life-changing but are simply annoying: a missed plane, a flat tire, a promise not kept. Other times they keep us awake at night: financial difficulties, teenagers gone amuck, a cancer diagnosis.

We see the obvious and weep and sorrowfully place our woes and tragedies in a tomb.It isn’t until long afterwards, maybe years, that we realize that we also rose again and that life was, indeed, glorious despite it all and that there was cause to rejoice. The disabled child is the light of our lives, the lost job made way for a new career, the house burning while we were away meant we were safe, a flat tire meant not being involved in an accident ahead, and having cancer meant walking with God and treasuring life as never before.

No matter what happens in life, we are blessed and we must live with faith and without fear and worry. God really does know what he’s doing.

“I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said. “He who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.”
So why do Jesus’ followers gather in churches on Easter morning? To show off their Easter finery? Of course not. It is to celebrate the victory of life over death, and to declare that Jesus Christ is Lord indeed!

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God sometimes has other plans

Upon reading the above, I am reminded of a pivotal day in my life that goes to show that sometimes even one of life's frustrations can turn out to be a true blessing.

It was a beautiful day in July, 1964, and life was wonderful. I had just turned 18, had just graduated from high school, and was back home after a job as a waitress in Glacier Park. I had a date with a guy from the park whose name I can't even remember now. He stood me up. Didn't show. Didn't call.

This had never happened before and I was not very happy. I drove to Gordy's Drive-In, the local teen hangout in Whitefish, Montana, to drown my sorrows with a GVA burger and a pineapple milkshake.

Before long, a red motorcycle pulled up next to me and although I'd never talked to him, I recognized the guy. He was from nearby Columbia Falls -- very tall and handsome and chased by half the females in Flathead Valley. As I watched he got off his bike, took a comb from his back pocket, and hunkered down to look in his motorcycle mirror and comb his hair. To this day I think it was the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

He came over and introduced himself and soon he was in my car and we were driving. We drove and talked for miles. For hours. We couldn't talk fast enough to get everything in. It was like we had been in a desert and were dying of thirst but had suddenly encountered this fountain that was reviving and refreshing us and bringing us back to life.

Do I believe in love at first sight? Yup. He told me that night that he loved me and he was going to marry me. A year later I said "I do" to Troy Elic Thacker. On July 2 we will celebrate our 44th year of marriage.

And as to the guy who stood me up? I am so very grateful! God clearly had other plans in mind.

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Resurrection Cookies

1 c whole pecans

1 tsp vinegar

3 egg whites

pinch salt

1 c sugar

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F. (this is important - don't wait until you are halfway done with the recipe!)

Place pecans in a zipper bag and let children beat them with a wooden spoon to break into small pieces. Explain that after Jesus was arrested he was beaten by the Roman soldiers.

Read John 19:1-3 Let each child smell the vinegar. Put 1 vinegar into mixing bowl. Explain that when Jesus was thirsty on the cross he was given vinegar to drink.

Read John 19:28-30. Add egg whites to vinegar. Eggs represent life. Explain that Jesus gave His life to give us life.

Read John 10:10-11. Sprinkle a little salt into each child's hand. Let them taste it and brush the rest into the bowl. Explain that this represents the salty tears shed by Jesus' followers, and the bitterness of our own sin.

Read Luke 23:27. So far the ingredients are not very appetizing. Add 1 sugar. Explain that the sweetest part of the story is that Jesus died because He loves us He wants us to know and belong to Him.

Read Ps. 34:8 and John 3:16. Beat with a mixer on high speed for 12 to 15 minutes until stiff peaks are formed. Explain that the color white represents the purity in God's eyes of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus.

Read Isa. 1:18 and John 3:1-3 Fold in broken nuts. Drop by teaspoons onto wax paper covered cookie sheet. Explain that each mound represents the rocky tomb where Jesus' body was laid.

Read Matt. 27:57-60. Put the cookie sheet in the oven, close the door and turn the oven OFF. Give each child a piece of tape and seal the oven door.Explain that Jesus' tomb was sealed.

Read Matt. 27:65-66. GO TO BED! Explain that they may feel sad to leave the cookies in the oven overnight. Jesus' followers were in despair when the tomb was sealed.

Read John 16:20 and 22. On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie. Notice the cracked surface and take a bite. The cookies are hollow! On the first Easter Jesus' followers were amazed to find the tomb open and empty.

Read Matt. 28:1-9. HE HAS RISEN!

Just Being Real Takes Less Work

When I paid my telephone bill a while back I couldn’t help but notice the fingernails on the woman who took my money. They were about a foot long. Hideous fingernails that made me cringe. They were painted bright blue and had doodads imbedded in the paint. They clicked with every move she made.

She couldn’t pick anything up with her fingertips, this woman, but curled her fingers up and used the pads and sides. I couldn’t help but wonder how she got dressed and if her husband was afraid to get close to her in the night.

Sometimes I have quarter-inch long fingernails, especially on my left hand, which I don’t use as much as my right. More often my fingernails are broken and chipped. Except when I'm overcome with a strong feeling of feminity or a special event, I gave up polish a few years ago.
I tried Lee Press On Nails once. Their commercials convinced me that even Lefty Jordan down at the local garage could put on these fake nails and look like the Empress of China. It took a whole afternoon to put them on. It was a special occasion, we were having company for dinner and I wanted to look elegant.

The right thumbnail fell off as I buttered my roll. It looked like a blob of red blood splashed against the white tablecloth. Then the right index fingernail came off when I lifted my coffee cup. Finally, the left index nail decided to join in. It was a little embarrassing. The guests pretended not to notice but how could you not notice three blood-red fingernails lying on a table?

Sometimes I’m tempted to have my nails professionally done but then I think my fingernails are small items on a body that could use a beat deal of beautifying in other places.

Back in another lifetime I owned a $35 genuine human hair wiglet that I perched on top of my head sometimes. I never owned a wig. But I borrowed one once and spent the evening terrified someone would pull it off. I kept remembering sixth grade and how Bubby Lodinoff and Dick Brown tossed my purse back and forth during recess. What if two drunks got hold of my wig? Besides that, my head felt like it was wrapped in an ace bandage.

There was also a time when I fell into the fake eyelash fad. Every day I’d get up and glue on the eyelashes. By midmorning the edges would boing free and bob in the wind.

When you really think about it, it’s really strange, putting on all this fake stuff. Isn’t it odd to wear fake hair over perfectly good real hair, or to cover up real fingernails and eyelashes with plastic versions? Besides, all these things are a trap. I mean, how can you have stubby fingernails one day and the next day show up with 3-inch red ones with diamonds in the middle? How can you have long, thick, luscious hair one day and the next day be seen with your real, limp, patchy pathetic hair?

It’s like the summer I was 12 and "borrowed" one of Mom’s bras and stuffed it so full of Kleenexes I looked like Dolly Parton. Before that memorable day I was just one of the guys, climbing trees and wading in Cow Creek. But after the Kleenexes I suddenly was noticed by every male in our neck of the woods, trying to figure out why they hadn’t noticed my “blossoming” before. I stuffed that bra for the next week.

Going back to Fanny Flat Chest wasn’t easy, but I knew I couldn’t keep stuffing Kleenexes. It might be years before I grew chesty enough to stop. Besides, the Kleenex wads kept working their way out and falling down inside my shirt, leaving me lopsided up top and with a lump on my belly. So I sneaked the bra back into the drawer and, wow!, it felt good to be free of it!

After the snickering died down it was great being back to myself and knowing I could throw a knife and string a bow and build a tree fort as well as anyone else. I wasn’t ready to be a Dolly Parton yet.

Litter SUPER bugs

A few years ago, just a few blocks from my house in North Pole, and right in the median of the Richardson Highway, were the remains of a black couch. It was an ugly corpse, a half dozen jumbled pieces of wood, fabric, and stuffing. It took a few days for me to even figure out what it was.
Not long before there was a freezer reclining on its side along the road between Fairbanks and North Pole, and for months a lone couch cushion lingered near a clump of bushes. It wasn't unusual to see broken bits of what used to be bookcases or dresser drawers or beds. Bags of garbage were so common they didn't warrant a second glance.
This year there isn't as much junk along the road and that gives me a bit of hope for my fellow citizens. Maybe the litterbuggers have moved to Florida or California.
The strange thing about these oversized pieces of junk is that they never seem to get picked up. They stay there, week after week, month after month, until May comes and the fleets of good citizens hit the highways and byways and pick up other people's trash.
It’s like people don’t notice their belongings are missing.
Let’s say a guy is moving and borrowed his buddy’s pickup truck for the big event. He piles it high and drives off down the highway. When he gets to his new place and unloads, wouldn’t you think he’d realize the couch was gone? Like when he wants to take a break and catch an rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond and goes into the living room to sit down and there’s nothing but the coffee table to park his behind on?
How about the person who has a couch with only two cushions? Instead of going back and retrieving the third one from the side of the road does she just stuff an old pillow into the vacant area?
Somewhere in Fairbanks there are people who are using milk crates to hold their underwear because the dressers they once owned jumped out of trucks or off trailers and came to crashing deaths. There are people with only three chairs around their dinette table.
It’s understandable that a person can take a six-month collection of stinking garbage bags to the landfill and, on the journey, not notice that one slipped off the pile. It’s not understandable that someone can lose a couch, or a chair, or a dresser and not realize it. Especially when the person undoubtedly frequently drives by the remains.
“Enid, doesn’t that look a bit like our old dresser?”
“Come to think of it, Earl, it does. I wondered what happened to that thing. It just sort of disappeared during the move.”
If these people have friends wouldn’t you think the friends would notice that the black couch in the ditch looks familiar, that the living room looks a bit empty, and put two and two together?
“So, Jim, what happened to that pink fuzzy sofa you and Gloria used to have?”
“Got to the first stoplight when we moved and looked back and it was gone. Someone musta stole it off the truck.”
“There’s one all smashed in the ditch a mile or so down the highway looks just like it.”
“That so? Wow! What you ‘spose the odds of that are—that there’d be two of them fuzzy pink sofas in Fairbanks?”
Most people, if they lost so much as a cardboard box along the road, would stop, turn around and go back and retrieve it. It’s the honorable, good-citizen thing to do. Just like it’s a good thing to automatically bend over and pick up stray garbage we encounter as we venture through life.
Sometimes you've just got to wonder about some people.

Oops!

October 27, 2007,
As I started to say until I pushed "tab" and my very first blog was prematurely posted, this date in history -- actually today -- also marks the inaugural debut as a bloggist.

Since the profile is limited I would like to add this: I am a person who enjoys life, likes to laugh, and vigorously fights the scale and graying hair. My husband and I have three children: Lisa and her gang in Meridian, Idaho, Janelle and her family in Seattle and our son Scott and his two children who live in Fairbanks. We have eight terrific grandkids, six of them teenagers. Our oldest grandson, Christopher, is an Airman in the Air Force and stationed in Florida. Our youngest granddaughter, who is eight, has Down syndrome and she and her brothers and parents are looking forward to soon adopting a baby girl from China.

My work life is spent working in the oil industry and the rest of my life is painting and writing. And now, blogging!

Tiptoeing into the Land of Blog

Today is October 27. Captain James Cook was born this day in 1728. His discovery of the the Sandwich Islands ultimately brought about the invention of the sandwich -- one of the man's greatest culinary achivements. Isaac Singer was born in 1811 and, to the delight of seamstresses all over the world, invented the sewing machine.