A Chance Encounter?

Journal 2018

Yesterday I parked at our downtown library and was walking to the City Cafe for lunch when I met a little old lady on the street corner. I smiled and greeted her as I passed by, but she called after me, “Could you give me a ride home?” She lived on such-and-such a street, just .8 miles away, about a 17-minute walk if one was in good health.

“I’m 70 years old,” she declared, “And I’m tired, and people just laugh at me when I ask them, and I need money for my medicine. If you can’t help me, will you pray for me?”

I asked her a few questions. She lives alone, no family in town. Two daughters live up North who don’t speak to her. Her Social Security check doesn’t arrive till Wednesday. She needs her meds for seizures.

Yes, I’d gladly give her a ride. She looked so frail, like a slight breeze would topple her over. I urged her to sit on a nearby park bench while I walked back to the parking garage to get my car. Lunch would have to wait.

On the short drive to her house, she thanked me again and again, prattling, “I just want to tell people what God has done for me. (He’d spared her life after a major health issue.) I put up a homemade flag on my house that reads ‘God loves everybody. Amen.’ But twice people have torn it down and painted over it, and I made a third one. My apartment neighbor doesn’t like me. He won’t like it if you park in his driveway. I like to sing!”

“What’s your favorite song?” I interjected, and she burst into song, strong but wavering, “How great Thou art.” And later, “Because He lives…” And I sang along with her.

Her meds cost $25. I gave her $32, all the cash in my wallet. She burst into tears. “Now I can get my medicine! I think I’ll just sit on my porch and sing,” she said as I helped her out of the car.

“May I take your picture so I can remember to pray for you?” I asked.

With a funny little grin, her hands flew up to her frizzy hair as if to make sure she looked presentable, lifted her chin, and smiled for the camera.

Though I’ve been hoodwinked, scammed, and taken advantage of in the past, I continue to be generous to strangers if God asks me to. Sometimes I’m proactive in my ministry goals. Sometimes God simply guides my feet. I wish I’d prayed with her. I’m praying now that God will supply all her need and continue to give her courage.

A 2025 Update. Now that I’ve passed the 70-year milestone myself, I have to smile at my “little old lady” perception. I never saw her again. I never felt a nudge from the Lord to return to her house, and I sometimes wonder what happened to her.

This is my sweet friend, Grandma Vera, not the person I met downtown. But she loves to sit on her porch, and she loves to sing.

A Golden Anniversary

Journal 2025

I seldom post a current blog, but this milestone deserves to be shouted from the rooftop: We made it!

Fifty years ago today, on August 8, Scott and I vowed to stay married “through sickness and in health, through poverty and wealth, till death do us part.” We’ve had our share of health challenges, and we know what it’s like to pinch pennies as well as to enjoy abundance. But we’re not dead yet.

Our marriage had a rocky start as we came from vastly different cultures, lifestyles, and worldviews. In fact, ten years into our marriage, the pastor who did our pre-marital counseling revealed he wasn’t sure we would make it. Well, we proved him wrong!

My husband prefers bland American food, golf, Trivial Pursuit, hot tea, and talks for a living. I like spicy international cuisine, hiking, word games, coffee, and get paid to listen. He’s a night owl, a pessimist, a clutter bug. I’m a morning person, an optimist, and a minimalist. He grew up in upper-middle-class society, living in Massachusetts, New York, and Vancouver, Canada. I grew up in a mud-brick house (built by my father) in an African village. He’s a spontaneous extrovert, and I, a one-track-minded introvert.

We bonded over our transient childhoods, our mutual love of speech and drama, table games, a few TV shows, traveling, our family of course, but most of all, our faith. I knew at age 5 that I wanted a relationship with the God of my loving missionary parents. Scott met his Savior at age 21, as an adult child of two alcoholic parents. We determined on our wedding day never to threaten divorce when we had a disagreement. (I never said I wouldn’t kill him, though! 😊) Ours is a love story, but also a God-story. How else can I explain that I love this man more today than the day I married him!

Here’s to us, Honey. And, as my daddy used to say, “I wouldn’t trade you for a teddy bear!”

On Job Burnout

Journal 2007

I’m really struggling right now. I’m angry, resentful, proud, defensive, hurt, sad, and stressed. I’ve had to let go of other areas of responsibility in order to survive my teaching duties. I’ve lost my joy and peace, and I don’t know the way back. My friends say I sound depressed.

[I was teaching at a junior college whose goal was to motivate struggling students to stay in school. The administration placed great pressure on the teachers to make this happen.]

VISUAL

I’ve sidled ungracefully past the wildly swinging middle section of a tightrope, but now I’m weary, trying to stay centered. Some in the watching crowd cheer me; others boo. I want to be applauded; I want to be liked; but when a belligerent student confronts me, my hackles rise.

ANOTHER VISUAL

I am a track team coach. I can encourage the runners from the sidelines or drive the momentum from the front. But if they choose to quit running, I can’t force them to continue. Nor can I simultaneously grasp every hand and drag them forward. While I’m helping one, others lag behind. I urge them to help each other, but it’s not enough. Complaining the race is too hard, many keep stepping off the track, distracted by illness, winter weather, or family stressors. Others continue to run but get lost and wander off into the marshes. Some are so far behind they’ll never catch up.

Meanwhile, my boss yells at me that I’m not trying hard enough. It’s my fault if I don’t provide their running shoes, hold their hands, and stay with them till the sun goes down.

And me? I’m wearing myself out trying to be in multiple places at once. I’m running 16 hours a day to keep the pace for the motivated student runners while racing back and forth to grab the laggers. I hear my boss yelling in one ear, and the runners wheezing and gasping in the other. The front runners complain that I’m spending too much time in back, and the ones in back complain I’m out front too much. I’m angry, tired, discouraged and ready for the finish line.

A THIRD VISUAL

I’m a spelunking tour guide. To those in my assigned group who follow closely enough to hear, I point out the beauty of the stalactites along the way. I can wait for a few stragglers to catch up before I begin lecturing, but if they linger in the back, talking and not listening, that’s on them. Or if they turn back to the entrance of the cave, I have to let them go. It’s not my fault if they are physically incapable of keeping up. I can provide a wheelchair, but unless they get someone else to push them, they’re stuck. I already have six people in my group who need wheelchairs! My job is to keep lecturing and keep pointing the way with my flashlight.

I become discouraged when I discover that only 8 to10 out of my original 20 make it to the beautiful waterfall at the end of the cave. The stragglers have missed it!

Now that I’m finished ranting, I’m ready to listen to the Lord.

THE LESSON

I am at fault. I have not bathed my classes in prayer. I have not prayed for my students by name. I have not consistently blessed my classroom. I’ve been too tired, distracted, and preoccupied to give it all over to God. I keep griping and crying that it’s too hard, too impossible a task that God has required of me. (Hmm. I sound like my students!)

And so, I repent for neglecting my spiritual disciplines. I can’t keep the students on track if I don’t have the right focus.

I realize, now, that it’s the company’s responsibility, not mine, to make sure the spelunkers sign a waiver saying they are physically and mentally fit for the journey BEFORE they enter the cave. Now that I understand it’s not my fault and that I’m doing all I can, what do I do with those in wheelchairs that the company requires me to get safely back to the entrance? I’m afraid the students will have to wait there alone in the pitch-blackness until we send for help. That’s when I notice permanent low lights lining the path. They will be safe for now.

A 2025 Update. I understand the passion behind wanting to help students succeed, but I’m not sure pressuring the teachers was the best motivation. This school is no longer in existence, and I am no longer teaching.

Approaching Burnout

Journal 2018

I can feel my mind and body edging toward burnout. It’s been an intense people- as well as project-oriented month. I need an entire day of alone time, but that’s not about to happen anytime soon.

VISUAL

I see a large room densely filled with high-energy party people. The noise is deafening. I’d prefer to stay outside, under the stars, alone and quiet. Sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes that’s possible. But I need to work through what it feels like to have to open the door and enter even when my reserves are gone.

Jesus says to sit with Him first. Outside.

I can do that. A pond in front of our park bench reflects the moon. It’s quiet, peaceful. I don’t want to talk or think or plan or look at a clock or a calendar.

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LATER

I spent all my free time reading a novel, guilt-free, no agenda, no thinking, just resting. I’m doing better but still craving more down time.

My mind continually goes to the Apostle Paul. What he endured is astounding. How did he physically survive all the persecution and emotional trauma? How did he not crack under the pressure? Was his drivenness from his temperament or from his experience? I feel like such a wimp next to this giant in the faith.

As I write this, I recognize false guilt: I believe I’m inferior, less than, a gnat next to a giant.

Jesus says, “Why are you comparing yourself to Paul? Why not to Me?”

My head wants to say, “Impossible,” but my heart wants to snuggle up next to Him and accept His unconditional love.

I feel His gentle rebuke. “What is Paul to you? I have different plans for different people. Do not take on what is not yours.”

It’s time to let that one go. I can learn from Paul, from his triumphs and mistakes, but I must keep my eyes on Jesus.

ANOTHER VISUAL

The visual changes as the Apostle Paul and I are now the same height, mere mortals obeying our Master. One is not inferior or superior, except in our choices. I may make wise or foolish choices based on the hand that’s been dealt me. I will not pout or gloat if I win or lose a game if I play it the best I know how with hints from the Master Dealer. Just play the hand smartly, take some risks or play it safe. But most of all, play graciously. Let my mistakes go, but learn from my faux pas and don’t repeat them. And do not get jealous if someone gets more wild cards than I do or if I get none at all. Play fair and without complaining and enjoy the game.

Thoughts on Jude

Journal 2017

According to Jude verse 1, the author is writing to “those who have been called, who are loved by the Father, kept by Jesus Christ.” Yet with strong and powerful metaphors, Jude spends the majority of his book pointing out evil people (false prophets and teachers) who are destined for destruction.

I have a hard time relating to this book because I don’t have much personal contact with evil people. In my ministry, I meet with those who are broken—often because of evil people in THEIR world.

I have great compassion for those who are hurting and want help. But Jesus died for the false prophet, the Hitlers, the Pharisees, and even the perpetrators. The invitation is to all. All are invited, all may come to the Feast of Love, but some by choice reject the invitation. God says he resists the proud. He loves his creation enough to die for us all, but he is intolerant of willful refusal to accept his invitation. I cannot judge men’s hearts, but I can certainly see their deeds and hear their words. Jude called them out and said they were ripe for destruction and hell, as were Sodom and Gomorrah.

I’d rather meditate on verses 20-22 that urge me to build others up, pray in the Holy Spirit, keep myself in God’s love as I wait for His return, and be merciful to those who doubt.

The verse I respond to the most is the glorious doxology in verse 24. He’s able to keep me from stumbling. He will present me faultless before his glorious presence. Glory, majesty, power, and authority are ascribed to Christ alone, past, present and future. Amen and amen.

God’s Judgment

Journal 2017

… His wrath can flare up in a moment. Blessed are all who take refuge in Him. (Psalm 2:12 NIV)

Here’s my visual for this verse: God is a fire-breather. If you’re “out there,” you’ll get zapped, but if you stay close to his heart, you are safe and protected.

The thought of God’s judgment is slightly terrifying to me: facing the Judge of the Universe to discover how many words, thoughts and deeds didn’t make it through His refining fire. It’s not like coming before the school principal with whom you have no relationship. It’s more like coming before your dad when you’ve misbehaved.

And yet, since our sins are covered and forgiven, the judgment for the believer is more like a lack of rewards, not punishment. “Not guilty,” the Father has declared. I do not need to fear or dread His coming judgment.

Regret will be punishment enough, I think. The question for me is, did I obey God’s commands to love Him and to love others?

Keep me close to your heart, dear Lord. Let me not stray far from Your embrace.

A 2025 Update. After reading Imagine Heaven by John Burke, my heart relaxed. Burke “compares more than one hundred gripping stories of near-death experiences (NDEs) to what Scripture says about our biggest questions of Heaven.” He suggests that our life review before Almighty God will not be filled with shame (my default when I disobey Him), but rather an understanding about my choices.

Caught in the Act

Journal 2006

The other day I made a disparaging remark about someone, turned around, and there she stood! I don’t know if she heard me or not. I pray she didn’t. But I felt awful. I can’t apologize to her since I don’t know if she heard me, for if she didn’t, it would only make things worse.

You’d think I’d learn not to say negative things about people or put others down behind their backs. If I only spoke words that I would say in front of them, I wouldn’t get caught red-handed (I wonder where that expression comes from?*). God forgive me!

Lord, help me remember to keep my mouth shut! And show me how to release the guilt.

A 2025 Update. What I’ve discovered is that when I have negative thoughts toward a person, there’s always a negative emotion beneath the words. It is always best to work through what I’m feeling before I open my mouth. But when I do slip up, I try to give myself grace and thank the Lord for revealing another unhealed place in my heart.


*Here are two claims for the origin of “caught red-handed.” Most sources say the red refers to blood, but I prefer the one about strawberry jam!

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The Origin of “Caught Red-Handed”

Caught Red-handed – Meaning & Origin Of The Phrase

Processing Dreams

Journal 2017

I dreamt last night we exchanged houses with some neighbors. Little by little, we carried our stuff into theirs while they moved theirs into ours. We had no help because all our friends were old, and we needed to care for them in the midst of the chaos.

What was my brain trying to sort out in my sleep? The whole scene felt chaotic and stressful. Am I anticipating Christmas?

Visual: I’m standing in a canoe, and a strong wind knocks me out of the boat. The shallow water poses no threat, but I’m peeved that I’m soaked and cold. Jesus invites me to join Him by a fire on the beach.

“You know,” He says reflectively, “I made the ocean, I made the wind. Heck, I even made the canoe!”

“Jesus!” I exclaim, “You’re not supposed to use the word heck.”

“Why not?” He replies. “I made that too!” And He laughs.

I don’t think it’s funny. Hell is no laughing matter.

“Hell itself? No,” He says soberly. “But creation, yes.”

“Karen,” He continued. “You don’t like being in a rocky canoe, do you? It’s too …”

“Wet!” I smile. “And I can’t get anything done. I have a long to-do list, you know … goals to accomplish, places to go, things to do.”

“That’s the issue, then, isn’t it? You’re feeling the shakiness of time.”

“Yes, Lord. I crave uninterrupted time alone to think time and to plan.”

Now that I understand what I’m fretting about, I need help sorting it out and setting it aside.

“Will you teach me, Lord? I trust You to bring to mind what I need to know and what I need to do and when.”

A 2025 Update. I’ve learned over the years not to ignore upsetting dreams. I pay attention to the emotion I feel when I wake up, and with the Lord’s help come to a place of peace. What a difference it makes in how I approach the rest of my day!

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Planning Your Legacy

Journal 2006

Our pastor challenged us to consider what we would want people to say about us at our memorial service or what we’d like imprinted on our tombstone. If we know the end, the goal of our life, we can work backward through the process to plan how to get there. For example, if you want to be known for being a generous person, you’ll want to practice giving now. If you want people to remember you for your kindness, then you’ll stamp out cruel remarks now.

At first, I thought I’d like my tombstone to read: “She loved God.” But on further reflection, I think the better epitaph would be: “Wonder of wonders—God loved her!”

A 2025 Update. I was meditating recently on George Beverly Shea’s hymn “The Wonder of It All” with the words “… but the wonder of it all is that God loves me.” https://youtu.be/MUBZy_6xUgY?si=l-3emAXwJLepC8Zx

And then I came across this note in Amazing Grace—366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions by Kenneth W. Osbeck. “After attending a service where the hymn ‘O How I love Jesus’ was sung repeatedly, [Philip P.] Bliss thought, ‘Have I not been singing enough about my poor love for Jesus and shall I not rather sing of His great love for me?'” That’s when he penned the hymn, “Jesus Loves Even Me.” https://youtu.be/i0zljm3KMSA?si=zzmBqiuv_QnXiIqI

Apparently, I’m not the first to have this thought!

Worry and Decision-Making

Journal 2006

I have always struggled with decision-making. I remember as a preschooler feeling paralyzed in front of a long row of bowls while my mother urged me to hurry up and choose something for lunch at a cafeteria. How could I possibly decide between all those delicious options? What if I asked for fried chicken and later wished I’d chosen the pasta dish? What if I regretted passing up my chance to taste shrimp? I needed time to weigh each option in my mind and imagine tasting each selection on my tongue.

Even today I have trouble making up my mind. I’ll try on a dozen outfits in the dressing room and walk out of the store empty-handed. This is why I like to take one of my daughters with me when I clothes-shop. I trust their judgment better than mine.

Or take gift-giving. The never-ending loop in my brain runs through all the scenarios of “what if?” until I give up and pass the chore onto my husband to decide.

In answer to my prayer for release from worry, the Lord took me back to a little story I read as a child.

Two boys were selling bushels of apples at a fruit stand. The first boy placed his largest and best apples on the bottom of his basket, whereas the second boy put those beauties on the top. The second boy got the best business that year, but the first boy had the best business in subsequent years.

Lesson: It’s not about decisions; it’s about integrity. It’s not about choosing “a” over “b” but about right versus wrong. Be trustworthy in my decisions. Always choose right. No worries.