Come Let Us Reason Together by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

If you are anything like me, you are nearly comatose with boredom over the present proceedings that are doing their best to demonize the candidate for the Supreme Court. I’ve seen so much of this, and the tactics that are used just make me sick. Justice Thomas, Justice Roberts, others, and now Sotomayor. All have gone through pressures that would have me saying, “Okay folks, I’m for this, and I’m against that. Either choose me or don’t. I’m going home!” It’s ridiculous the hoops that candidates are made to jump through.

It’s not hard to see that Sotomayor has a name that I will never learn to spell correctly. However it is also clear that she is an honest woman, and one who has served as judge in many courts of law. What the heck is all this haranguing about? I don’t understand it. I think the Senators just like to hear themselves talk.

Whatever happened to reason? You know “reason.” To think logically, to analyze, to deduce, to use common sense. I wonder if that has left the universe. In the Book of Isaiah God says to His people, “Come, let us reason together.” This was a plea for understanding. I guess if the Creator of the Universe was ignored by a bunch of dunderheads, we can certainly expect our elected officials to put us to sleep.

You can probably tell this all annoys me. I just hate time, energy, common sense, and reason to be wasted by what appears to be a spitting contest. I love our country. I love our laws. I love that Justice is usually blind. I hate discrimination of any kind, even that silly expression, “reverse discrimination.” I’ve never identified myself with one group or another. I’ve never thought, nor have I spoken of myself as belonging to “the white race.” I’ve always, and will always, be a part of the human race.

I have many nationalities within me. Some of my ancestors I can trace back to before the Revolutionary War. Others were immigrants, like so many other people. I don’t understand hatred, prejudice, or overt ethnicity. I’m not a victim, nor am I superior to anyone. That was one thing that my father got right. He taught me to respect and honor everyone’s right to live free in this country, without prejudice.

If you have kept up with this blog of mine, then you know who and what I am. You know I love God, and that I have an intimate relationship with Him. He comes first. You know I love my husband. He is the love of my life. You know that I love and respect my daughters, and that I am in awe of their talents and intelligence. You know that I love to take intimate pictures of God’s creation. Yes, His creation. If you can gaze at a sunset or sunrise from beginning to the end, and you can still say this universe is an accident, then I will call you a fool. Nothing is so obvious as the reality of God’s love, nor His passion for beauty.

If there is no God, then why bother? Why bother getting that college degree? Why bother marrying? Why bother having children? Why bother becoming a better person today, than you were yesterday? Why bother, when the sands of time flow swiftly towards the end of one’s life? What happens after you close your eyes for the last time? Do you just sleep forever? That’s a scary thought. Do you simply cease to exist? That’s even scarier. Why bother?

So, I guess you could say that we are in an era where reason has ceased to exist. We hysterically follow this or that for reasons unknown. Well, I refuse. I’ve traveled those roads, and they lead to nowhere. The only place that I have ever found mercy, forgiveness, understanding, love, and yes, reason…is at the foot of the Cross of Christ. It is in Him that I trust. His grace orders my life. I can tell Him anything, and I know that I am heard, personally.

I don’t know if I have ever told you that it was my husband who led me to understand the grace of Christ, and to accept it. It is so hard to imagine a God who requires our hearts, and only that. Man keeps getting in the way of His grace. It has been said that God created man in His own image, and man has been trying to re-create God ever since.

So, as I listen to a bunch of pretenders —Jesus called them “hypocrites…” or actors in a play, I must retreat from the news channels. I choose to praise God instead, for every lovely thing I see, whether it is a sunset, or the arrival of my beautiful daughters, or the look in my husband’s eyes as he looks into mine. Yes, I praise him even for the little souls in my care, those little pups who bless my life each day.

Thank you, friends, for listening. I know that many of you have such thoughts as I have this day. It makes me feel better to know that many of you have hearts of understanding and love. Thank you with all my heart.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com

A Dog Named Jessie by Jaye Lewis

They say love can cover a multitude of sins. I have seen it; yet never have I seen it more beautifully illustrated than in the life of a dog named Jessie.

Jessie came into our lives at the age of six or seven months. By that time he had already experienced the hard knocks of life. Found abandoned on the side of the road, along with his six siblings, Jessie and his siblings were rescued by a kind stranger who picked them up and brought them to the shelter, where we adopted him. With a promise that Jessie wouldn’t grow much bigger than his already forty pounds, we took him home.

Immediately, it was obvious, that Jessie had issues. Instead of the majestic cattle dog that we had been assured he was, he was, well, rather goofy. And he was afraid. Of the car. Of the door. Of the stairs. Of peanut butter. And even scraps of paper. And Jessie grew. Oh how he grew, topping out at eighty pounds.

Jessie was a wounded, terrified part of our family just a few months, when we became the foster parents of a sweet, young beagle-dachshund mix. Jessie’s adoration for my little dachshund, Happy Dog, was evident from the first day, so we believed he was socialized. Loving Happy Dog was one thing. Accepting this new dog was another.

The very first night there was a food fight between Jessie and this foster child. I started hollering, and my husband managed to get in between the two dogs, grabbing Jessie by his collar. Jessie screamed all the way down the hall and into the bedroom. I, quickly put the foster into her crate, grabbed Happy in my arms, and hurried down the hall. The crashing I heard in the bedroom, scared me to death. But nothing prepared me for the scene I witnessed as I opened the bedroom door.

There was my husband, on top of a terrified, snarling Jessie, holding back his head. Blood dripped from my husband’s arm and onto the rug. Lots of blood. From all we could figure out, when my husband grabbed his collar, Jessie thought he was going to be killed. Whatever his past, nothing had prepared us for a dog who was this kind of loose cannon. This was a dog whom every animal expert insisted ”should be put down.”

To tell you the truth, as I was sitting beside my husband in the emergency room, I just didn’t know what to do with Jessie. I was so angry at that dog. My husband had carried him up and down the stairs, coaxed him into a love affair with peanut butter, and sweet talked him out of his corner and down the hall. He slept by his side. Yet one step towards control, and Jessie mangled the hand that fed him.

I was angry with Jessie. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. Would he attack others? Would he attack Happy Dog? Would he even attack me? I didn’t trust him, and I wanted him gone! But my husband insisted, No.

No??!! No.

So Jessie stayed. Against all the expert advice, my husband blamed himself. I was not having any of it. Past, or no past, Jessie had crossed the line. You do not bite the hand, and Jessie had pretty much chewed up most of my husband’s arm.

For ten days, Jessie was quarantined. Then my husband began immediate training, and he bought a training collar. I had to learn to use it, and I had to learn the commands. Since Jessie’s trial by fire began with a dog fight and shouting, my husband began to train Jessie with soft commands and hand signals.

Day after day. Week after week, my husband faithfully trained a dog that others would have given up on. As his arm healed over the next months, something rare and beautiful began to take place. Jessie, under my husband’s gentle persuasion, began to understand and obey. And Jessie adored him. I could see, that no matter the tempest that ruled Jessie’s former life, affirmation and love had calmed the storm.

The storm within me also began to be healed. I learned to forgive. I didn’t know that was happening until one night as I was writing, I felt someone watching me. I turned around, and there was Jessie, standing in the hall looking at me. I saw a pleading expression in his eyes, and I seemed to hear his voice. “Mommy, please love me.”

At that moment, my heart broke for the little pup who had been abandoned in a cardboard box, by the side of the road. Then, love burst into my heart, as he came over to me, hesitantly, expecting rejection.

“Yes, Jessie, I love you.” I whispered into his neck, as my arms slipped around him. Jessie had found another home, in me.

Nine years later, things have changed. I’m older, and so is Jessie. Our relationship has grown, as my health has declined. In the house, I’m very much the one in charge, and Jessie, still timid in many ways, knows who is boss. When we go outside, however, Jessie takes over, like the noble watch dog he was born to be. His job, as he sees it, is to protect and defend me and our passel of little dogs. His vigilance is unmistakable. He sniffs the air, and he is exactly what God and fine breeding had made him to be. He is the one who keeps me safe.

Jessie has taught me many things about life, love, and forgiveness. He never was a bad dog. He was just afraid. I’m so glad that my husband insisted that Jessie’s life was worth saving. I’ve seen the animal shows, where a dog like Jessie is tested for sociability by jabbing at the poor creature with a fake hand, attached to a long stick. Then, when the dog fails he’s put down, without giving him a chance.

I don’t know how much longer God will allow us to have Jessie, before He calls him home. All I know is, that I love him. He is healthy, happy, and just a little bit goofy. He has taught me that all things are not necessarily absolute. Some things just have to be tested and felt in the heart. I also know one very important thing: that if you allow a lesson to really change you, it often will.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com

Matters of the Heart by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

I can’t believe that it has been over a month since I last wrote, but, then, this has been a bad flu season…a really bad one. I’ve had virus after virus, then relapse after relapse. When you’re gasping for air, I guess it doesn’t really matter what they call it. I just hope that your health has been better than mine. I hate the thought of anyone else being sick.

There are some other reasons that I haven’t written, also. I call them “matters of the heart.” I have found the world to be extremely disturbing, and I can’t help but wonder when a person makes that first decision to follow evil? Perhaps that decision is forged in an unhappy childhood, or perhaps one is simply born that way. One must have an element of shame in one’s character, in order to evaluate the right or wrong of an act, before it is committed. To do deliberate harm to another living being cannot be blamed upon a disappointing childhood. Doing evil is not a mistake, it is premeditated.

I grew up in the 1950’s south. My father was a chef, so I spent many of my days in restaurant kitchens. Most of the kitchen help were black, but I saw no difference, since my Dad also was “kitchen help.” Day after day I spent with the ladies of the kitchen, who spoiled me mercilessly. And I loved them passionately.

I could not grasp the meaning of prejudice. I could not bear to hear evil words spoken about or to those gentle, kind, and loving women, and I delivered many a bloody nose over it. I hated the “separate, but equal-ness” of the south in which I grew up. I could not comprehend why a person could not go to the bathroom, or drink from a water fountain, simply because they weren’t the right color. It hurt my heart to see the ladies that I loved, ordered to the back of the bus, or forced to give up their seat. I couldn’t understand then, as I can’t understand now. The absolute callousness of those who harbor such wickedness in their hearts is a mystery to me. I hope that I go to my grave without that understanding.

Perhaps you may wonder why I bring this up today? I usually prefer to avoid speaking about those who believe that it is all right to harbor hatred in their hearts, yet still maintain a “church face” on Sunday. I can only say, I marvel; just as Jesus “marveled” at the unbelief among his own people. Do you suppose He marvels at those of us who profess to be Christians, yet who gather together as a rabble of pretend believers, and stir up a crowd into a mob, all the while pretending “free speech?” Or worse − Christian duty?

One of my favorite scriptures is Luke 6:45. “A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.”

This scripture makes me wonder about our radio airwaves, and the “performers” who are applauded by “good” people, who encourage a tirade of poorly veiled racism and even worse. I want to ask them “why?” And yet I cringe at the thought of exchanging any words with those “sounding brass” or “clanging cymbals,” who disturb me beyond belief.

For those who don’t know Christ or the Bible, I want to assure you that our Master did not sway His followers, then or now, with pretty words. He spoke plainly, and often He spoke things that chill the blood in ones veins. Do those mistaken Christians who follow those who speak evil, understand, or have they read the scripture?

For Jesus says:

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven. Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!’ Matthew 7:21-23

Every time I think of this scripture, I have to look within myself, searching out the evil within my own heart. If I am truly humble, I allow God to pour out His light into my soul, chasing all the shadows and ugliness away. I dare not embrace those shadows. I must fight and resist the chains of hatred, prejudice, and anger within. I must not give into them. If I cannot forgive, I still can lay that burden at the foot of the Cross that held my Lord and Savior. I can heal, instead of hurt. I can walk away and wish no harm. I can even pray for the one who has hurt me. I can wash my hands in the blood that He shed for me. How can I not shed my petty selfishness, when Jesus sacrificed so much for me?

May I share with you, friends, a part of the interior journey I take?

All the Way to Calvary

All the way to Calvary,
He carried all my sin.
I followed Him with purpose.
The nails I pounded in.

I lashed with Herod’s soldiers,
And stripped Him to the bone.
I hung Him naked on a cross
And let Him die alone.

My sins were oh so evident…
The pride, the rage, the fears…
I watched in wonder as I saw
Jesus shed my tears.

I watched his blood come pouring out
And puddle on the ground.
And though He could have told my guilt,
He uttered not a sound.

I hurled my accusations:
“When I hurt, you weren’t there!”
“Where were you when I needed You?”
“I can see that You don’t care!!”

He looked at me so sadly,
As He hung upon that tree.
He willingly became my sin,
And set this captive free.

I had failed so many times,
So it was difficult to see,
How God could come from heaven
And choose to die for me.

Yet, I accept the mystery,
How Jesus from above,
Could take my unforgiveness,
And return to me His love.

© Jaye Lewis, 2006

So now, friends, you know the worst of me. I am human, just like anyone else. I have hated (it doesn’t matter who or why), and I have refused to forgive. I have fought the wrong fight, and I have battled the wrong wars. I have chosen so many wrong things, that I wonder how God can keep me in His care. Yet, though I have many sins still to give up, God loves me. With all my faults and imperfections, He has accepted me as His own. Why? I don’t know. I only know that without Him my life is empty, and with Him, I am full.

Father in heaven, forgive us for our sins of prejudice, bigotry, and pride. Grant us the grace to step away from the gossip, which strangles the soul. Compel us, Lord God, to desire the virtues of acceptance, forgiveness, and love. Give us hearts that are filled with generosity, and may we not shame you with our thoughts, words, or deeds.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com

Welcome Home by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

This is a true story from my childhood. It's not a perfect story, but it does have some beauty. It's a story of my mother, a woman who did the best she could with the life that she was given.

So, Mom, if you're listening, please believe me now. I love you. I always have. I'm glad that you are home.

Welcome Home by Jaye Lewis

It was not long after we moved from Florida to Louisville, Kentucky, in 1958, that my Dad was caught embezzling from his company. The story goes, that he had taken the money to move his family up to Louisville, and he was paying it back, little by little. When the company auditors arrived, my Dad, being the “honest” person he was, refused to doctor the books to save himself, and he just waited to “take a licking,” which meant the loss of his job and the impoverishment of his family. Supposedly, the authorities were so impressed with his honesty, that they decided to just “let him go,” without criminal charges.

At the age of eleven I found this very confusing. He was without a job, because he did something wrong, and he was too proud to go on welfare, so we went hungry. We ate until the food ran out. My Dad was able to find a job at a diner, but we had two weeks to wait before he would see a paycheck.

The food supplies were rationed for over a week. Each meal became smaller and smaller. We lost weight, especially my mother, and I can’t help but wonder just how much she sacrificed for me. I’ll never forget that last meal. Hard biscuits. Chicken gizzards and livers. I hated that stuff! And rice. Oh yes, there was that lovely dessert of canned pie cherries and chocolate syrup made with cocoa, water, and a small amount of spilled sugar that was brushed from a shelf. It was just awful! I refused to eat anything but the rice. My brother was glad to eat my gizzards and livers, but I had such a small amount of rice, that my plate was nearly empty.

My mother looked at my plate, and she quickly scooped up all her rice and put it onto my plate. Then she picked out all her chicken livers and gizzards and distributed them around the table to my father and brother. I was so aware of her pain, that I wish now that I could go back and tell her just how heroic I thought she was.

“I’m so stuffed!” she lied. “I picked while I was fixing supper, and now I’m just not hungry. You go ahead and eat this. I don’t want it.” It was our last meal for two days. We had already pulled in our belts, and now there was nothing left to pull in.

The next day, my Dad went to work. He ate at the diner, so that there would be one less mouth to feed, but there was still no food in our house. That was a hard day. I would have done anything for a sandwich. I didn’t understand, at the time, where the food went. I remember a terrible empty feeling and a stomach that ached to be filled. The ache turned into a gnawing pain, and my mother became terribly anxious. She begged my father to let her go to the church, so she could ask for money. But my father was proud. He wouldn’t accept charity, and I never understood.

Finally, after two days without food, my Dad agreed to ask his new boss for an advance on his pay. He came home with a five dollar bill. That would feed us inadequately for a week if we were careful. I believed that if I went with my mother and brother to buy the food, I could control the outcome. I begged and pleaded, but to no avail. So, when I was ignored, I flew into a rage. Perhaps it was the hunger speaking. Perhaps I thought I could control how the money was spent. My Dad drank, and everyone in my family smoked, except for me. In my childish ignorance about addiction, I resented every beer and cigarette that ever came into our house, and I guess I hated them a little for needing such things.

My Mom and brother returned with bologna, bread, milk, a jar of instant coffee, and a pack of cigarettes. I knew it! I just knew that they would buy cigarettes! I was so angry about that pack of cigarettes. In spite of warnings to eat slowly, I wolfed down a sandwich and a glass of milk. When that food hit my empty stomach, it recoiled. Instant agonizing pain! I screamed! I grabbed my stomach, and rolled on the floor, half blind with pain. I just kept screaming. I’ll never forget the terror in my mother’s eyes. Finally, I threw up all over the floor! There was relief as my stomach emptied, but I was in bed for days.

Somehow, miraculously, my mother got extra food. I was put on a diet consisting of soft boiled eggs and dry toast. I never knew if she went to the church or if angels showed up at our door. Knowing my mother, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised about either possibility. It took me over a week to recover.

One day, while I was still recovering, there was a knock at the front door. My mother hurried down the inside stairs and opened the door. My bedroom door was just above the landing.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a man said, in a quavering voice. “Do you have some food you can spare for me? I’ve been walking and walking, and no one can spare even a piece of bread.” There was a long pause. Curious, I tiptoed out of bed and peeked down the stairs. My mother’s face looked pale, and she was so thin.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “We don’t have any food to spare.” She pointed her finger, in the direction of town. “Try the restaurant, down the block. Surely, they will have enough to spare.”

The man shook his head, sadly, and turned away. I watched as my mother slowly shut the door. She stood there awhile, with her face pressed against the glass. Her shoulders began to shake. I thought she was laughing, but when she turned to come up the stairs, I saw her tears. I tiptoed back to bed, and I never breathed a word about it. I can still hear the sound of my mother’s sobbing, as she sat on the stairs.

“I’ve missed Jesus!” she sobbed. “I’ve missed my Lord. He came to my door begging, and I’ve turned him away!”

She sat there for a long time, my mother in her grief. I had never doubted her love for Jesus. I knew that whatever she did for the “least of these,” she did for Him, and now she had to turn the “least of these” away. I’d seen her in terrible circumstances. I’d seen her reach into empty pockets and give away all she had. I’d seen her angry. I’d seen her on her knees. But I had never seen her cry, until that day.

Something left my mother that day. I believe that it was hope. Little by little I watched her slip away from me through the years. She still loved Jesus, and she clung to Him, like a drowning woman. She could still be a force to reckon with, but she quit the fight too soon. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. When God’s grace began its pull upon my life, I remembered, and I decided to allow Him to change my course.

Years later, after I got tired of being battered in my own marriage, I made the choice to change my course, at first for my children, and then for me. Each time that I felt as though life would overcome me, I remembered my mother’s defeat, and I refused to give in. The best part of my journey is that God never gave up on me. He drew me to Him, and He convinced me that, as I trusted in Him, He would transform me. Somewhere inside of me, He found courage, and through His grace, I began to change.

By the grace of God, after two failed marriages, God stepped in, and He brought Louie and me together. It’s been a wonderful marriage. We’ve shared joys and sorrows, triumphs and defeats, but nothing could shake the love we have for each other. I’m amazed that God loves me so much that He would care enough to bring us together. But then, that is God ― He is a God of tender mercies.

I do not blame my mother for the defeat that she suffered on this earth. She was from another time, when women had few options. Knowing what I know of her life, I realize that she didn’t know she ever had any. My mother died in October of 1982. She would be the first to tell you that she never accomplished much. I disagree, because I would not be here without her, and I would not choose to miss my memories of her. There were no accolades. She was buried in a plain pine box. A woman of simple tastes, she would have wanted it that way. She made mistakes. She was not perfect, but she clung to her faith.

I have no doubt that my mother was joyful to be able to cast off the things of this world. She must have run into the arms of her Savior. I can almost hear His words as He greeted her. “You’re safe now, Margaret. Welcome home.” © Jaye Lewis, 2004

For the Love of God by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

I haven’t been keeping in touch as much as usual, due to some super bug that no one tested for in my region. It’s probably because most people (even those who live in Virginia) forget that our region exists. Strangely enough, our President came to our region several times on his campaign. His manner was warm, inclusive, and sensitive. I was astounded and pleased. The last candidate for President who visited us was John F. Kennedy, nearly fifty years ago.

I love where we live. I love the people, who are honest and outspoken, kind and generous, unspoiled and patient, and who have etched themselves upon my heart. Because of my health, we attend no celebrations, parties, or other functions. Not many people understand, but my gosh they are polite about it.

Church became an impossibility for me. Colds and flu can literally mean the death of me. Being an asthmatic and a diabetic is a little like playing Russian Roulette with a shot-gun. To survive, I must go on prednisone, which shoots my sugar up to 600 or more, a number which can mean coma, even death. So, I fight, by using my diabetes medication, not knowing which numbers are real. And finally, as I am now, I get well.

The thing we all missed most, about Church, was Bible study. Oh, how we missed that hour, immersed in the Word of God. One day, my husband suggested we do our own Bible study, right in our living room, sometimes at the table, and it has become such a blessing. We take as long as it takes, from one hour to three or so. We share wonderful things that God has done for us during the week, and, dear friends, God never sleeps. He is always busy blessing, correcting, and loving each of us.

One might think that since my daughters and I all have serious health problems, that we might resent God’s correction. Well, being human, sometimes we do. But gathered around the kitchen table, or ensconced on the couch, in our living room, we share all that God has done in our lives, and we know that we are truly blessed.

That relationship with God, is the best thing in my world. He has given to me, the best man, the kindest man, without guile or pretense, loving, unselfish and so very funny. I love his sense of humor. I would rather laugh than eat, and there is much laughter in our house.

God has been impressing new understanding to me, during this last illness, and I realize that everything we have comes directly from Him. Evidence of a loving God is written in the universe. In order to dismiss Him, we must close our ears, our eyes, and our hearts to the beauty around us, refusing to see that all the earth belongs to Him, and we are His caretakers. We haven’t been doing much caretaking in the last hundred years, or so. So my gift to God, are my gardens, just as my children’s and my husbands efforts to beautify our God’s little acre, is all because of their love for me and Him.

God is good. He delivered me from a hopeless life, and He gave me the best man I have ever known. My husband sees me through the eyes of love and devotion. He is a man who sacrifices every day, to make a home filled with laughter and caring. I can’t say enough about him, and he just hates when I write about the beauty of his soul, but I cannot help myself. I believe that with a little effort and will, any marriage can be a joyful thing.

I hope you know that I am not bragging. I just had so many hopeless years, that I can’t shake the newness of the love I’ve been given. I will never “get used to it” as I’ve heard people say. Each day is a miracle, knowing, to the best of my ability, a loving God, and seeing how evident is His love for me and my family. Knowing exactly from where my blessings come, is the greatest miracle of my life. And one of the blessings is sharing my heart with you.

Things are tough right now. I know that. I get scared every day about what could happen, but I also have evidence in my life before, that God is still with us, especially now. I wish I had a plan for you. Just writing to you, and sharing my life and loves, has been a blessing. Thank you with all my heart. Jesus said, that “out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. I hope that you have seen abundance in my heart.

Many years ago, long before my beloved Louie, I was pregnant with my last child. It was a difficult pregnancy, and I was in a town where I was a stranger. I was a member of a church, but I was isolated. My health was so bad, that I was expected to die in child birth. The last six weeks of my pregnancy, I became very close to God. However, closeness to my Church family simply did not occur.

One day I had visitors. Two ladies from the Church were handing out pamphlets filled with the love of God, but love was not there. I staggered my way to the door, my heart uplifted. Somebody cared, and they were coming to visit me. I opened the door, dressed in my nightgown. When the door opened a crack, they pushed the pamphlets in to me.

“Oh, come in,” I cried, thrilled to see them. “I’ve been very ill,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Oh, we can’t come in, we have so many people to visit.”

What? This was a visit? “Please come in, I could use a friend.”

“Oh no, we can’t. I’m sure with your sweet spirit, you have lots of friends.” But I didn’t. I didn’t have a friend in the world, and if I did die, no one would know or care. It was one of the hardest days of my life. Through a crack in the door I received the gift of indifference, but I learned something very powerful. I made a promise to God. Lord, if you let me live, I will find a way to reach others and give them the hope and peace of your love. I will not turn away souls who simply need to know that someone cares.

I did my best in spite of my health, yet I felt I was not doing enough. Twenty-eight years ago, God led Louie into my life, and my life changed forever. One day, about ten years ago, I went before the Lord. I was so sick, and felt I couldn’t do what God laid on my heart twenty-four years before.

“Lord,” I again prayed, “why do you allow me to be housebound, so that I can’t go out and do what I promised you?”

I felt His answer, so clear in my heart. “I will bring souls to you.”

I was dumbfounded. Were people going to line up in our driveway? I couldn’t think of any way to reach anyone. Then we got our computer, an old one, and we discovered the world wide web. In spite of me being dragged kicking and screaming, I learned how to use the dad-blamed box, and a whole new world opened to me. People, whom I had never met, shared their hearts, and I to them. That was ten years ago, and much has changed, but I kept my promise, and God showed me how.

So, I want you to know I care about you. I pray for you, and I ask God to bless you with your daily needs. I beg Him for jobs and a government that does not forget whom they are working for. I pray for our President, that he will be given the wisdom of Solomon and the faithfulness of David. Yes, I disagree with him on some very important issues; however I believe that his heart is honest and faithful, not only, to those who voted for him, but also, for those who did not.

Father in heaven, bless every soul who reads this, every soul who is searching, and especially those who are suffering. Make yourself known, Lord, in each life, for we are strangers in a strange land. May we understand that we have the most powerful being in the universe on our side. May we walk with You, and when we stumble, may you pick us up in Your arms. Protect each of us, oh Lord, and grant us Your peace in our hearts.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com

Gentler Time by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

We lived across the street from one another for nearly eight years. For two military families, that’s a lifetime of friendship. Like the blazing sunrise over Charleston, South Carolina, and the sunset in the west, I knew that no matter what, John and Pat would always be there, not only for me, but for my husband and children.

We celebrated one another’s birthdays and graduation parties, along with all of the surprises of life. When John was aboard ship’s deployment, I was there for Pat; and when my Louie was out to sea, she was there for me. I don’t remember a single fight that we had. We simply found ourselves on a different page than the rest of the world.

We dressed up for Halloween, and went to the mall, Pat as a six-foot tall, green faced witch, wearing a towering hat, and I, thinking I looked like a rock star, mistaken for a lady of the night. In many ways we were quite innocent, even naïve. You might say that in our late thirties and, in my case, early forties, we went through childhood together.

We watched each other’s children grow into adolescence and beyond, wondering who would wind up taller, Pat’s son or my daughter, since one year’s growth for the two of them leaped eight inches.

We went back to school together, driving through the Air Force base every day. Pat helped me to bear the insults of my father, who lived with us, and who had decided to make us as miserable as the last years of his life could muster. Pat made me laugh about tragic things, and in that gave me back half of my life.

John was always there, when his ship was in, either in the driveway chatting with Louie about guy stuff or planning a surprise party for somebody. He was a good man and a kind man. Unpretentious, John was down to earth and unspoiled by either the ups or downs of life. He was humorous, and a hard worker, a virtue not much admired these days, except for those who truly knew him. Now he is gone, and though miles have separated us, as we went our separate ways into retirement, the thought of that big man with an even bigger heart, not with us, breaks mine.

You would have liked John. He would have made you laugh. He would have surprised you with a glass of iced-tea or Pat’s to-die-for bean dip and chips. Things were simple to John. You were a friend, and that meant good things. I don’t think he had an enemy in the world. Oh, I remember so many things about John, that would mean nothing to anyone else. I guess my most revealing memory is that John was real — truly himself, unapologetic in true simplicity, he was a man without guile. Now he’s gone, and he will be sorely missed.

Pat and I went through hurricanes, separations, heartache, and wild laughter. We were always together, and always 100% in each other’s corner. We backed each other up through the serious and the ludicrous of life. My heart is with her right now, though we live thousands of miles apart. She was and still is my very best friend. We have one of those once in a lifetime friendships that neither time nor distance can separate. In fact, I think I can honestly state that we are forever friends. I just didn’t think that forever would come so swiftly.

Gentler Time

Sittin’ on the curb, Settin’ on the stoop,
Grilled cheese sandwiches.
Tomato soup.

Buffalo nickels and silver dimes,
Penny candy and church bell chimes.

Hop scotch, jacks, and skates with keys.
Kinder words, like “thanks” and “please.”

Hop-Scotch, Butterscotch, Cracker-Jacks,
Hopping home o’er sidewalk cracks.

“Simon Says.”
Walkin’ to school.
Greaser hair and being “cool.”

Jackie Gleason. Name that Tune.
“Alice, Pow! Right to the Moon!”

Licking “Eat-Ade” from your hand.
Dancing close with a dancing band.

Hoola Hoops and Poodle skirts.
Boys wore ties, and girls were “flirts.”

Chevys. Hot Rods. Thunderbirds.
Holding hands, no need for words.

Sunday chicken and mashed potatoes.
Lots o’ gravy and fried tomatoes.

Meat loaf night, sittin’ at the table.
T.V. night without a cable.

Taking a stroll instead of a jog.
Letter writing. Sittin’ on a log.

Simple pleasures, short and sweet.
Crossing in the middle of the street.

Saddle shoes and crinolines;
Eating tuna out of tins.

All those memories in my mind
Of a kinder and a gentler time.

Copyright Jaye Lewis, 2002

Good-by John. I'll see you in heaven.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

Yes, Virginia, There is a God By Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

Last night, rather late, I received an email from someone whom I will call Virginia. She told me that I am a good man, which tells me she has read at least one of my works, without a picture. So she doesn’t even know that I am a woman.

Well, Virginia went on to say that my belief in God was, well, childish, when everyone else knows He does not exist. Her email was less than cohesive. She flipped from one thought to the next, without any connection to her claim. Her thoughts scattered all over my computer screen – Big Bang, God as Big Bang, Big Bang as God. Another interesting observation was in the form of a question: “If there is a God, who came before Him? Who created Him?”

That question stimulates my own reasoning:

If there is no God, then who or what came first?
If there is no God, then why are you so afraid of Him?
If there is no God, then why do you care so much to inform me?
If there is no God, then when my time is up on this earth, it won’t matter.
On the other hand, if there is a God, and you war against Him, you have an eternity to regret your decision.

Quite frankly, I don’t believe you. It would not occur to me to contact someone that I don’t know, and set them straight about their core faith. So, you are afraid that there is a God and you’re mad at Him for some reason, because He didn’t do what you wanted.

Anyhow, friends, these are the things that are on my heart today. There is a God. He loves us, and He doesn’t give us everything we want. He gives us what we need. For instance, my eyesight is failing. I have no depth perception. I hurt myself all the time, because what I think is there is really too close, and I can’t judge the distance.

If my macular degeneration continues to advance, there are many things that I will
miss. I will miss the sunsets and the sunrises, that I see from my back door. I can no longer distinguish one bird from another. I take pictures of everything, hoping that one day there will be a cure.

If not, then I understand. God has another plan. He always does. I love God, with an incredible passion. He makes me glad to be alive. He fills me as nothing on this earth can. He came to me, not because he needed me, but because I needed Him.

So, you see, Virginia, there is a God. You just have not taken the time to know Him, and blind or not, I will always see Him in the life that I lead. Without sight, I know that my husband’s love is there, because I will be in his loving arms. Even though I don’t see God, with my naked eyes, I know the touch of His hand on my life; I have felt his arms around me. Believe or not, Virginia, because I will keep on believing for you. I will believe, because that is what I do. It is who I am.

Father in heaven, I am well aware that there are those who do not know you. Maybe they don’t want to know you. How sad, for You are so well worth knowing. I know how these doubters, or non-believers, feel, because I was once one of them. They are afraid. I know that. Perhaps by reaching out to me, they will begin to understand the Scripture verse, “See the lilies of the field. They neither spin nor sew, yet not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these.”

We have a God who loves the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. If He loves them, then how much more He must love us, each of us. So, Virginia, as long as there are birds that sing and flowers that bloom, we can be assured that God is real and that He loves us.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
http://www.entertainingangels.org/

Honor, Integrity, Trust By Jaye Leiws

Hello friends,

I’m reclining here on my messy bed, trying not to turn up the volume of my T.V. set. It’s on, simply because I haven’t had the gumption to turn it off, and every other channel either upsets me, or scares the heck out of me. Yes, I’m in T.V. hell.

I’m on my second relapse of an upper respiratory infection, which has thrown me into another asthma attack. I’m complicated, or so said a doctor of mine, several years ago, who, basically fired me.

“Get out of my office! You’re too complicated! Diabetic/asthmatics die!” His exact words.

Of course, my answer, had I been clever enough at the time, might have been, “Not without taking you with me, you quack!” Of course, that never came out of my mouth, but it might have felt good, for a moment. However, that doctor had already told me some upsetting news about himself. His doctor had just died, and now where was he going to go?

So, if truth be told, we just don’t know what other people, even doctors might be grieved about. I used to get so mad, that I was just furious, and I’d say anything, but now, I wonder. Isn’t that what this world is coming to? Just a kind of craziness that makes us watch endless T.V. programs that we simply don’t care about.

Even the decorating channel is simply unbelievable. Houses for $300,000 or more, for FIRST TIME BUYERS???? Payments of $2,000 or more?? And, since the bottom has fallen out of every market, how many people still have those homes? Also, why would anyone feel a need to spend $40,000 on a kitchen redo, with granite countertops? It is so unreal.

A home is more than real estate. It is where you go to feel safe. A home embraces you much like an old friend, and, as with people, one’s home should be treated with honor, integrity, and trust. My home is where my heart is, my husband, my children, and my God. Everything I think, and say, and do, is cleared through Him. We did not buy our home for the spa-like master suite bathroom. Bathrooms are functional, must work for the right reasons, and I’m not in competition for the extra sink. Bathrooms, for us, are private and not to be shared at the same time. That’s just my opinion.

We bought our house, because I fell in love with its 55 foot deck and its magnificent view of the mountains. We have planted and pruned and spent 11 years landscaping the outside. The inside keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I am what you might call a semi-invalid. I do what I can. And if I can do it outside, then that’s where I’ll be. The decorating shows give me some ideas, and that’s all, but I probably won’t go wild, and then wonder how we will pay things off. The market in this area has never been unaffordable; yet there are many homes in foreclosure. It’s sad.

So, I guess the message, today, both for you and me, is this: Let us all live our lives with honor, integrity, and trust, especially to ourselves. Honestly, can I afford the home-improvement? Does my integrity say, sure I can take out this unaffordable loan for a spa-like bathroom? Or anything else? Then trust. The most important virtue. Do I trust God to provide for my needs? Do I have integrity when I promise Him obedience. Do I have honor? Do I honor Him?

These are the things that are on my heart today, as I lay here in T.V. hell. Do I believe the foolish things I see, or do I simply marvel at the stupidity of my fellow human beings? I cannot hold myself up as a shining example, because I have been so foolish in my life; but I’m learning. I’m becoming a more obedient child of God. And I try to be honest in every aspect of my life, especially within, where no one else sees, except God and me.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

In the Shadow of God's Wings by Jaye Lewis

It’s a subject that few people like to talk about. It can generate fear and denial, yet I live with it every day. Growing old. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was a knock-out in a bathing suit? Of course, my bathing suits were never that revealing, but I remember feeling good about my body. I don’t remember how or why my body changed. It just did. One day, I looked into the mirror, and I saw a person who was different than I had hoped to see. It really bothered me. And every time my husband told me that I was lovely or beautiful, I didn’t believe him.

It’s hard, growing old. A dear friend of mine says, “Growing old is not for wimps.” At nearly 63 I am intimately aware that more than two-thirds of my life is behind me, and a short path is before me. So I’ve been thinking about this a lot. What does it all mean, this growing old? To some people it means abandonment. To others it means a loss of productivity. A sense of no longer belonging. Perhaps even a feeling of uselessness.

To the very young, of course, old age will never happen, so many young souls waste the precious youth that God has given them, and one day, when they look in the mirror, someone older, and hopefully wiser will look back at them. In my heart I’m still the barefoot girl on the beach. I’m still the young mother sheltering my children from a stormy night. I’m still the late-blooming lover of my husband. And I’m still clinging to my sight that is failing; yet accepting the road ahead. Each day is a gift, and each breath is precious. Life is not a bathing suit, and happiness is not what once was, but what will be.

I believe that God lights my path. I see His light in every sunset. I hear His laugh in the brilliant flowers of spring. I feel his touch in the night, when my husband’s warm hand gently strokes mine. Many things change as we grow older, we may suffer from the breakdown of our bodies, as we age. Our eyes may grow dim, as mine have. Our bones may ache. Our feet may hurt. Oh there is a host of ills that come to the aged, but that too is not life.

Life takes place in our hearts and our minds. Life is what feeds the soul of those who will not give up, no matter their limitation. Life is a hand to hold in the autumn of your years. Life is the blessing of children, who still love and need you, as time and circumstance brings good-bys that much closer. Life is gathering together every good thing, and letting go of the bad. You may have lost family and friends, as I have. Yet, you still have much to give and receive, if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Life is laughter, smiles, and forgiveness, and when that is impossible, life is simply moving on and letting go.

For me, life is first my relationship with God. I often fail in that. He deserves so much more than I give, but I am trying to be better every day. Life is my love for my husband, and my thankfulness that he still loves me. Life is the joy I feel when I see my daughter’s lives entwined with mine…that first cup of coffee of a morning, when we are all together, wrapped in the warmth of our love and laughter. And often, when I am alone, life is the time I spend with our little dogs, and our great big one, whose soul is, perhaps, the tiniest and most vulnerable of all. All these things are life to me, and I hold them close in my heart.

And finally, I am very much aware of my mortality. I have diabetes, asthma, fibromyalgia, arthritis, neuropathy, and other complications of diabetes. Yet, my blood profile is perfect, thanks to new, almost miracle medications. So, life, for me is with limitations. But my heart loves fiercely, my generosity knows no bounds, except for the limitations of my pocket book. I have suffered from illness for a very long time. I have been face to face with my mortality many times. It’s not as awful as you might believe, this living in the shadow of God’s wings. It can be quite beautiful. It can be the best life of all.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

Believing is Seeing by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

Today is a day when I have a dim view of the world. Oh, not in my heart or mind, but in my eyes. My eyes are failing, and sometimes it scares me. I hurt myself, because of having little or no depth perception. I'll reach for something, and totally miss the object. I have to turn on all the lights, sometimes, just to gather all the information as to where I may step or even to open a window. My eyes are very important to me. I love the natural world, with flowers, bees, birds, sunsets in the mountains, and the illusive sunrise. As a result, I am recording remarkable things on my digital camera, which my husband gave to me for our anniversary. I never thought that I could be so hooked on something that is so technical, and that I was sure was pretty much out of my league. How wrong I was.

I think I was first hooked when I took my first pictures of a rainbow. After my husband downloaded the pictures to our computer, I could see that they were breathtaking. I moved onto sunsets and sunrises, which are spectacular in the mountains where I live. I became transfixed with cloud patterns, the changes in the weather, and lovely celestial events, that I never want to forget. Even when I have no camera, I see the world in pictures. Right now, if I close my eyes and think of something beautiful, I can literally see it…flowers, blue skies, and sunshine. Most of the time I see flowers or simply colors. When I write, I see pictures in my brain. Like my camera, I have taken snapshots throughout my life, which are themes written upon my soul. You might say, that for me, believing is seeing.

It is the same, I believe, with faith in God. I believe, therefore I see. For some people, such as the man who wrote to me on Thursday night, there is not only a lack of faith, but also an unusual need to contact me. This gentleman let me know that I’m a very nice “guy,” (He obviously had no idea that I am a woman.) but I am "somewhat naïve." There is no God, he explained, there was only a “Big Bang.” God is not God, but Big Bang is God. Or God is Big Bang. Yes, it was confusing, but I understand where this person is coming from.

I once lived in the fear of not believing. It was a dark and lonely place. There was a strange need to reach out, and seek to make light of another’s faith. I once feared that this world was all there is. To justify a lack of faith, many people reach out to me and explain how stupid I am. That’s okay, though, because I have been there, too. I am ashamed of it, but I did it. What I found, however, is that one who is truly a believer can rarely be overcome by such an obvious attack. Grace is the answer, and the only answer. God placed this faith in my heart, after many years of running away from Him. I ran so far, that I bumped into myself. One day, I stopped running, and that was when His grace poured in. I wrote a poem that day, that I would like to share with you.

THE GIFT by Jaye Lewis

How many times have I run from Your Presence;
Sighting the target, yet, missing the mark?
How many times have I wandered the wasteland?
How many times have I run in the dark?

Over and over I failed You and failed You;
Yet, somehow or other, You never failed me.
Constantly looking over my shoulder;
The freedom before me I failed to see.

What made me blind, that I just couldn't find You?
Why was I so stubborn, I just wouldn't see?
Yet, now, here I am, so aware of Your Presence;
For the first time I feel so incredibly free.

Constantly Present; Constantly Guiding.
You never gave up on this vessel of clay.
Passionate, Loving, Your vision surrounds me;
I'll praise You and thank You the rest of my days.

Halleluiah to Jesus, Beloved of the Father.
Praise to the Spirit, three Persons, yet One.
I'm no longer my own, I belong, now, to Jesus.
He loves me in spite of all I have done.

My heart is so full of the blessings He's given.
I cannot contain all the joy that I feel.
God knows I have done nothing to earn this;
Yet, without a doubt His Salvation is real!

© Jaye Lewis, 1999

So, this is the truth. I finally understood what God had been telling me all along. I am His. Do I believe that the earth is only 5,000 years old or 50,000,000 years old? To tell you the truth, I don’t care. I believe that there are truths that science discovers every day. My new diabetes treatment is a perfect example. They discovered this drug in the saliva of a Gila Monster, which has a deadly bite. A synthetic of this element was then created in a laboratory, and now I take two shots a day. It is one more medicine which has given me back my life. I also believe that God is the Author of my life, and the inspiration for scientists who don’t even know Him or acknowledge Him. But, you see, I do. I believe, and in believing I see. Believing is seeing, at least in my life.

So to this man who was so needing to ridicule my faith, you asked who created God, the very person whom you say you don’t believe. If you don’t believe, why does it matter to you? You also said, if there is a God, why can we not have peace. Well, I say to you that He pours out His peace into our hearts, and it is our responsibility to bring peace about. Jesus gave us a command to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and embrace the stranger. He couldn’t be more clear.

Father in heaven, I know that many readers of this blog do not know You. There are also those who do. I thank You for Your gift of grace, and I ask you now, for a blessing for each soul who visits this site. Bless them, Lord, with your grace, in this uncertain time, when belief seems to slip through our grasp. Help us all, Lord, through our many adversities. And for those of us, who are still struggling to pay mortgages that have doubled, as well as keep up with the rest of our bills, grant us the grace to still reach out a helping hand to our neighbors. To You be the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

With love,
Jaye Lewis

What It Takes to be a Christian by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

There is no certain formula. There are no magic words. There’s no need to send money to any organization. God doesn’t need your money. He desires your heart. He’ll never shove you, scare you, or trip up your words. He cares not about the color of your skin nor the eloquence of your speech. He frowns on theatrical display, no waving coats nor scary articulations needed. My God hates that kind of stuff. Jesus called the “players” of his day, “Hypocrites.” They still are.
I didn’t understand these things, for many, many years. I believed every Preacher who transformed sermons into theatrics, more in tune to a bad Off-Broadway Play, than God’s grace. I didn’t understand what being a Christian really means.

The Saving Hour by Jaye Lewis

He came to me in my darkest hour.
Or was it the break of day?
He came to me with the sweetest power,
To take my sins away.

His burden is, so, gentle;
You see, He has sheltered me
Beneath His Saving mantle,
And loves me tenderly.

My Cross that He helped me carry,
Was a never-ending array,
Of complaints which are legendary,
Yet He changed my life in a day.

My heart belongs to Jesus,
To Yeshua, Christ the King,
The One whose grace is ceaseless.
He is my everything!

I don’t dwell on tomorrow;
I’m a struggling soul like you
With a multitude of sorrows
And Jesus to see me through.

I don’t know why He sought me,
Saving this lonely soul.
He loves me, and He bought me
Making this Christian whole.

© Jaye Lewis, 2009

So, to my friends who are not Christians, but who wonder what it means to be one, I can tell you, sincerely, that to be a Christian is to be Christ’s face to the world. Whether the world is a next door neighbor, or someone in line at the bank, we are still admonished to not just “talk” about Jesus, but to “be” Him.

It troubles me that there are those who draw near to Christ with their lips, urging those who are often destitute, to empty their pocket books, and give the little they have to them. Like the snake-oil salesmen of a century ago, they will have their chance to face the One who said we should give “to the least of these.”

I realize now that I belonged to Jesus long ago, with a simple desire to serve Him and to serve others in His name. Words mean nothing. God looks at our hearts, and He collects what is written there.

Father in heaven, we can never be truly the face of Christ, but in these days of dark uncertainty, may we be the heart of Christ to one another. Grant us the grace and the means to help our community, and especially help us help those who are most in need.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

Feeding Hearts and Little Souls

Hello friends,

When the economy begins to recover and jobs within the green industry become prevalent, I’m hoping that more jobs will come to our community. They are desperately needed. Even though our family is well taken care of, our house payment has nearly doubled; the price of food has gone up nearly 300%, and I wonder, why are we so blessed? We are mere souls on a journey, hoping to make a difference in others lives. For reasons known only to God, we are blessed with a comfortable income. We’re able to care for and even spoil our four dogs. No one goes hungry. We pay our bills. We have a very loving, safe home.

Not so, for many of our neighbors. So how do we bless them? We live in a county, in our State of Virginia, that is unique. A relationship between churches, sheriff, and other resources, most people are provided for. However, no provision has been made for people’s pets. Therefore, our local animal shelter is handing out food − not to feed people − but to feed those little souls who bless our lives – their pets.

Who can forget Hurricane Katrina, and the horrible loss of life. Yet, those who survived had to experience another horror, abandoning their pets in order to be rescued. Many people refused to abandon those little souls who loved them so unconditionally. As a result, people died along with their pets. These events will haunt our family forever.

Not this time. Our family has adopted our animal shelter’s passion to save the pets who enrich all of our lives. How can we not? How can I tuck in my little souls; how can I carefully portion their food; how can I snuggle up at night with my faithful companion, and not care about those who must abandon their pets, because they cannot afford to feed them? So, I urge those who love animals, and can afford to, to call or visit your animal shelter, and find out how you can help.

I cannot not forget that God led the animals to Adam, to see what he (Adam) would name them. After the flood, God made six covenants with the animals, as well as mankind, that he would never destroy the earth with a flood. Can I ignore the One who said our Father in Heaven knows the tiniest sparrow, and not do what I can?

For those who see this as caring for animals above humans, I cannot help but wonder if they have ever held a dog and prayed for it to be made well. So, you might say that we are feeding the hearts of those who love their pets, as well as feeding the little souls who make our lives rich. So, my friends, if this is an attractive way of giving to your neighbors, your SPCA or shelter would be the place to help you get started.

Father in heaven, may we ever be mindful that your eye is on the sparrow; that you see to the needs of the birds of the air. You, dear Jesus, referred to “the little dogs” beneath the Master’s table. My Lord and my God, You created this earth, and everything that is in it, and you placed it in our care. Help us to be mindful of that as we seek to assist our neighbors, as we are able. And, Father, thank you for our little dogs, our great big dog, and our lonesome kitty. For they give us unconditional love that we seldom deserve.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
http://www.entertainingangels.org/

Losing It by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

I’m losing my sight. I knew that I had vision problems, but I believed, rightly or wrongly, that this – losing my sight – was something that would never happen to me. Why this? Why me? My last blood profile is the envy of the community. I am a freak about taking care of myself. I don’t drink; I don’t smoke; I don’t eat sugar; I have low cholesterol – in other words, I’m a control freak about my health. But this…this impairment of my sight…for this I’m not prepared.

I sobbed in my eye doctor’s office. It was obvious to me, before she even said it. I couldn’t see as I did two years ago. Everything I could see was blurred and indistinct. You see, I’m a poet. I see through my eyes and deep into my heart. The sunrise, for me, is beatific. The sunset sets my soul on fire, as well as the sky. When I am able to view some spectacular night sky event, I am uplifted, so that I almost feel myself drawn into heaven. So, I cried at the thought that this might all end.

What did St. Paul say? “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child; but when I became [an adult], I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now, I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

It’s true, I only know dimly. It is like looking into the face of Jesus, after a lifetime of love for Him; trying to be obedient to the will of God; and yet, not seeing Him as He sees me. So, because of Christ, and the sacrifice that He made for me, I can surrender, even this – my sight.

So now, what do I do? Well, I continue to be a control freak about my health. That is one reason why I’m willing to go on a new diabetes program, which includes Byetta®, which I will have to inject twice a day. It is not insulin. It is a new medication, which requires me to learn HOW to do it, and those of you who have gotten to know me well, know that I HATE CHANGE!! By gosh, I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like it. The weird thing about this is I have no problem with needles. It’s the mental gymnastics that I have a problem with. It’s like a ballet that ends with me sticking myself in the leg. So, everybody has to walk through this with me, this week-end. :o)

What has happened with my diabetes is change. Diabetes is NOT a one size fits all kind of a disease. All kinds of things affect it, your diet, your exercise, other medications, and growing old. Basically, it has come down to this for me: everything changes, and for me, today, it is my diabetes and my sight.

So now, I move on. I thank God that I have a good doctor. I praise Him for my husband whose eyes will always shine, just for me. I do not need sight to know that. I bless Him for the beautiful souls of each of my daughters, and I thank God for His faithfulness to me. God loves me, passionately. He thinks I’m funny. He knows that each sunset makes me love Him more. He knows that I will miss the stars. He knows already, that I will see the Milky Way no more, until I watch it with Him.

I share these things, because I know that someone needs to know that God loves you; that your problems are important to the only One who can bring about joyful change; and He is the only One who can drag us through that change, so that we can accept it.

I love Him, and He knows it. I see His face, in the face and heart of each new friend. I am not afraid, when someone does not believe in Him. Most people do believe. At the same time, I know I see God, through a glass dimly, but in the hereafter, face to face. I look forward to that, even as I fear that final change. Yet I trust in him, because He has brought me through so much. So, He will bring me through that, when the time comes.

I wish you could see Him, in your heart, the way I do. He is filled with affection for us. He became one of us, leading an ordinary life, until He entered His ministry. He died for us, not because we are good, but because He is good. I know that there are those who will dismiss my faith, but that’s okay. My guess is they are nursing past hurts and disappointments left unhealed. There are those who also look to mediums and spiritualists, those blind guides, who know nothing about the hereafter of which I speak. I have no more control over them, than I have over my loss of sight. So, this is what I am going to do.

I’m going to trust God, the One who saved me; the One who forgives me; the One who shows me the ludicrous in myself, so that I can laugh; and the One who has filled my life with so much joy. Did I suffer in my past? Yes I did, but I must not stay there. I can’t and I won’t. I must allow Him to carry me, often kicking and screaming, through the tough times and into a brighter tomorrow.

Thank you, my friends, for putting up with me on this blog. I know that this is not a normal blog. I have no riddles nor snappy dialogue to entertain. Nor do I have facts and figures about whatever passes for entertainment in our society. I have only this to share: my heart, and a shared journey through the time I have left.

I wish for you every happiness your heart can hold. I pray for your families, your homes, and your situation in life. May God bless and keep you. May He light your path. May He place His arms around you when you stumble, and when you fall, may He lift you in His arms and carry you.

Father, thank you for this journey, and for the one that is ahead. Help me, oh Lord, to lose myself in your arms. May I never forget all that you have brought me through. Grant me the grace to face the future, without fear. Bless each soul who reads this with all of the gifts that you have given to me. May You always go before them, and protect them from their enemies; and may they know that they are safe in your care.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

For the Love of My Country

I find it amazing, and disturbing, that there are those, in Congress and the Senate who are stalling an emergency stimulus bill, just because they can. In our family, we are okay. We can make our suddenly doubled house payment, and deal with the price of food, which has tripled. All of us have a health plan with prescription benefits, and each of us has an income, which enables us to live very well. We’re not independently wealthy. We work. We have educations. And those of us who are not retired, as I am, have jobs.

My daughters’ education was financed from loans, grants, and scholarships. Since both are disabled, neither on Medicare or Medicaid, they were given assistance by the Department of Disabilities in our state. They received medical assistance through the Free Clinic, Health Department, and the University where they attended. Their prescriptions were provided, for six years, by patient assistance programs from the drug companies who designed the medications.

They were blessed, and they still are. Although we voted straight Republican in 2000 and 2004, my daughters were given the help they needed – a hand up, if you will – by a Democratic Governor and a Democratic Congressman. Why? Why are the Democrats concerned with jobs and education, and Republicans are concerned with tax-breaks for the Oil Industry, for instance. We know what good friends they are, don’t we? It took us sliding toward another Great Depression for the price at the pump to go down.

I know there are those who come equipped with tunnel vision from the womb. I was related to them. Perhaps I was even one of those people once. But things are different, now. Just as I enlisted in the Navy, during the Vietnam War, my Country needs me now, too. I must look at the needs of my fellow citizens, as well as my own. I must put my Country first.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if those whom we elect simply served their Country? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they were not self-serving? I believe that is the difference with President Obama. He is putting our Country and our people first. Yes, he is irascible. Yes, he seems angry. Heck, I’m angry! But look at the people he is choosing – people with actual experience. People who disagree – with him!! Isn’t that what all reasonable people do? Don’t each of us realize – or shouldn’t we – that we don’t each have the answer, and everyone else is wrong??

As a Christian, when Jesus draws up sides, at the end of the age, and he separates the sheep (those who feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, and comfort the afflicted) from the goats (those who did NOT do these things), I do not want to be on the side of the goats. Christ has told us that he doesn’t care about the show we may have displayed in Church. He doesn’t care if we warm the front pew, or we worship at home. He doesn’t care about how we wave our coat around and threaten others with hell. He cares about our hearts. And the only person who knows more about my heart than I do, is my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Can I be less than He commanded me to be? I may be a home bound, semi-invalid. I may have diabetes, which has caused my eyesight to fail. I may have neurological diseases, asthma, and a host of other complications, but that doesn’t matter. Where is my heart? Do I honor my Father in heaven, who has admonished me, that He wants obedience, not sacrifice. Or do I honor man?

I think that this is what we are seeing in President Obama. He speaks freely of his desire to honor Jesus, by obedience to His Word. After all, Jesus said that there are two Great Commandments, which encompass all of the teachings of all of the prophets from the beginning to the end of this age. And they are simple: love God; love your neighbor. That is what is missing in the Republican Party, that I used to support.

Pride is not love, and power must not forsake the least among us. After all, the Savior, who redeemed me, washed His disciple’s feet, and He called Himself “the least of these.” As my mother used to say, “if you give, and your heart is not in it, then you have missed Jesus.” I don’t ever want to miss Jesus.

Poor in spirit, as I am; sinful though I may be; unthankful, though I am, for the blessings I have received; I still know this: giving is not getting, sacrifice is not obedience, and the same Father who knows, intimately, the heart of the sparrow, knows my heart as well. My neighbor who lost her job matters. My neighbor, whose “house for sale” signs frames our corner, matters. The families who have no food, and the food banks who cannot feed them, matter.

The child who needs medicine, the parent who needs them to eat, the businesses that have closed – those small businesses that Republicans say they are fighting for – they matter. The predatory lenders, who will loan you money, on your car, or your next paycheck, if you have one; and who also charge you “loan shark” interest rates, are NOT the small businesses I’m talking about.

Wake-up, Congress! Wake-up, Senate! Wake-up Republicans! Do you think your constituency will send you back to Washington in two years or six? Abraham Lincoln was a Republican! Teddy Roosevelt was a Republican! What have you done?!!

Forgive me, friends. I see much mud in the waters. I see that we Christians have forgotten our first Love. Gandhi once said, “if Christians started acting like Jesus, all of India would come to the Cross.”

Father in heaven, I seek not to disturb those who read this, as though we Christians are better than anyone. I see the good in all who seek to give that cup of water to your little ones. I see, my Lord Christ, how much You love, the least of these. Help me now, to cast away my sins, and to turn away from the things of this world. Help me to understand that you have raised up all leaders (as you have said in Your Word), and, please Father, bless and protect our President, who seeks to serve Your least of these.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

Elder Care By Jaye Lewis

Of all the things I NEVER wanted, shopping for “Elder Care,” was at the top of the list. Paper panties, adult bibs, Sippy-cups, and callous removers were things I never thought I’d own. I’m pretty safe with the paper panties, so far, but all the rest, plus much more, have suddenly become of interest to me.

Stretch jeans, with elastic all-the-way-around; shoes with Velcro straps; cushioned bathtubs, cabinets filled with prescription medications – for every ailment known to man, all are on the top of my shopping list. I live from payday to payday, not so that I can buy that exciting outfit, but so that I can live and live well.

It’s difficult at times, just dealing with one new addition. I memorize the name and color code of each medication. I keep them in a see through plastic box, always in the exact order, and I always return each bottle to its assigned place. Before I’m satisfied that it is safe to swallow each dose, I read the label, take out each pill, and I recite the color code and what it’s for, aloud to myself. If my neighbors could only see, I’m sure that the word would go forth, that “Mrs. Lewis is talking to herself again.”

Growing old, a dear friend once told me, is not for wimps. She is so right. It is not easy to fall asleep, as it once was, and sometimes I can uncomfortably feel every thread in the bottom sheet. I often joke that I am like “the Princess and the Pea,” of fairy-tale fame, which tells of a “real” princess, who proves her title by feeling a dried pea through over a dozen mattresses.

My husband accuses me of having pillow fights, as I try to pound my pillows into becoming a perfect mound underneath my head. I lie back, then sit up, then pound, pound, pound, until my pillows are crying out for mercy. And memory foam?? Don’t get me started. That is NOT the perfect pillow! Harder than the Rock of Gibraltar, and only half as yielding, memory foam has been known to keep more stalwart souls than I, sleepless for weeks. Give me latex, on a slanted bed, and someone to rub my feet. Give me a white-noise machine, earplugs, soft cotton sheets, and an electric blanket. Now that’s what I call elder care.

American pharmaceuticals have given me something that is essential for living – quality of life. I eat healthfully; I exercise; and I laugh a lot, especially at myself. Without my medications, I would not be able to go shopping with my daughters. I wouldn’t be able to garden. And I would have no reason to celebrate life.

At sixty-two years old, not much has changed about me. I still have red-gold hair, with just a touch of silver strands. My smile is still young, and I still see that glint in my husband’s eyes, which tells me he has never seen another face so lovely. Yes, my weight is not what it was when I was twenty, but, in truth, I have never been so happy.

We live in troubled times, it’s true, and sometimes, yes, I am afraid. But if we use our eyes, we can still see beauty in our world. If we allow hope to fill our hearts, we can still make a future. We can love our families and friends; we can cuddle with our pets; we can fashion a plan; and we can laugh at ourselves. And tomorrow? Perhaps I’ll find something to buy in Kinder-care. © Jaye Lewis, 2009

Heavenly Father, here we are within our own skin. We are neither bad nor good; yet you love us and put up with us. Let us know You as Father, and let us experience the joy of simply being alive. With all my heart, I pray for each soul who reads this message. I understand the struggles that they are experiencing, right now. Please Father, be their rescue. Be their calm, in the midst of the storm. And Father, would you please remember me and my family? We know that everything we have comes from Your grace. To You be the praise and the honor, forever.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com

Living on Grace By Jaye Lewis

When I look at my life, from the beginning to today, all I see is the grace of God. I see His strength in the midst of adversity. I see His rescue when I was in despair. I see angels of every size and description, both great and small, steadying me all the way. In spite of evil that I have witnessed, or have even suffered, I can see that there has always been a dome of protection surrounding me. I have often wondered why?

I am one of those people who ask, “Why?” You might even say that I’m a “why-ner.” In sixty-two years I have seen a lot of evil. Heck, just in the last Presidential race, I wanted to hide my head in shame, just to make up for the human race to which I belong. Racism, parading as cultural pride. Immorality paraded as honor and duty. I saw too much. There really are people who don’t want to know the God’s truth, who call themselves Christian, yet will not believe the truth before their eyes, simply because they must hang on to their prejudice and bigotry. Why?

I simply can’t answer that question. I can give you an example from my own life. I came from a family who always drew up sides. One side was “us” and the other side was “them.” Now the “us” and the “them” often changed sides. One day you’d be “us,” and the next day you’d be “them.” You never wanted to be “them.” “Them” were evil, disloyal, ungodly, and worse, until you became “them.” It was simply crazy, in every way.
Right after my second child was born, I came home to my mother’s house. Now, my mother liked to get things off of her chest, and onto someone else’s. That day, I was the victim.

My mother told me how my Aunt (one of “them”) had died during childbirth, four years before. Now, I had just had a baby, just a few days old. Never mind about that. My mother had something to get off her chest, and my mother had a deep hatred for my Aunt. However, I was deeply disturbed. I thought about the condition of my heart, and how I had nourished the hatred from my mother into something ugly within myself. You might say, I saw myself, and I didn’t like what I saw.

One morning, as I was fixing some breakfast, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table, brooding. She did a lot of brooding. I was rather pensive, myself, trying to find the right words.

“Mom,” I began, “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve seen something about myself that I just don’t like.

“What’s that?” My mother asked, with little interest.

“Well, Mom, I just realized that I have spent four years hating a woman who is not even alive.” It seemed so clear to me. All of a sudden my mother pounced.

“WELL! SHE DESERVED IT!! SHE EARNED IT!! SHE WAS A NASTY, LITTLE, ----- !!”

“But, Mom, she’s dead!” I tried to reason.

“NOT TO ME, SHE’S NOT! NOT TO ME!! AND I HATE HER!!! SHE DESERVED TO DIE! AND NOT A MOMENT TOO SOON!” By this time, she was screaming, and alarmingly. At that moment, I realized that I had just become “them.”

The tirade went on for hours, hatred spewing from my Mother’s every pore. And I’m certain my mother was made to suffer long ago, but that was not the point from my perspective. I was given a window into my own soul.

Seeing one’s soul, from God’s perspective is a scary experience. I knew in that moment, how to turn my Mother’s wrath away from myself. I could merely join in…but I didn’t. I kept silent, and I finally let myself see what my mother had allowed herself to become, because of real or imagined hurt. And as I saw, I saw what I could become, if I let myself.

So, I decided that as uncomfortable as it was to be “them,” in a family ruled by hatred, I would rather be “them,” than to live a life of bondage as “us.” From that day, I lived a life of great loneliness, but my relationship with God began to deepen. I suffered untold humiliation and grief. And even though I never ceased to ask the unanswerable question, “why,” I was glad that I was neither “us” nor “them,” but simply me.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org

Prayer for My Little Boy by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

It's a small thing, but then, so is he. A bundle of energy, heat seeker, sweet face and sassy spirit, after eleven years, Happy Dog is still my little boy.

Happy has gone through much in his short life...chemical treatments that sickened him to the brink of death; two spinal surgeries, many a crating to prevent a need for more surgery, I could go on and on, but I won't. Just know that he has suffered much.

Happy Dog has been my faithful companion, my guardian, and he has been by my side through my own bouts with my mortality. We are joined by shared triumphs and tragedies. Our hearts are joined beat by beat. I love him...and...I need him.

If you only knew the times that I have ranted at this dog, for his many indiscretions...a piddle here, and a bundle there, but where does one measure worth. Is it the measure of material things? Or do we measure by the strings of the heart? Happy has taught me to filter all things through my heart. He has gentled me, and he has rescued me from the heartbreak of my past, teaching me to meet the future with courage and anticipation.

His wagging tail has been like a beacon of a playful spirit. We have shared many a joyful romp down the hall, as I, in mock anger, cry: "Bring me back my slipper!" Then off he goes, waving his tail like a signal flag, with me chasing after. We know the rules, for he has made them up. He runs like a rocket, and I try to catch up, which, of course, I never do.

I didn't realize that anything was wrong until he cried out one day. Then we saw his sweet tail, swollen near the tip. We tried. Dear God, we tried. I crated him. He was put on anti-inflammatory medication, but to no avail. His tail...his little flag...will have to be removed.

Oh, how it is killing me. I can't bear to see that little happy tail silenced. It is a tail meant to wag with laughter. Accompanied by his joyful bark, it begs for one to follow into another adventure, which spills so readily from his intelligent mind. Yet, I love him so, I will not let him suffer with such courage, the pain that accompanies his little crushed tail.

So, now, I think about the future. How many more years will God give me with the dog of my life? Hopefully, there will be at least a dozen; yet when the time comes, I will, regretfully let him go. You see, I love him, and I need him. I can see the unblemished love in his eyes for me. I can feel the beat of his heart against my hand, as I lift him up off the floor. That heart will beat for me, without ceasing, until God takes him home. Oh yes! I do believe that there is life after this life for such a faithful companion.

So now, I must make an appointment for the surgery I do not want, to give my little dog a more pain-free old age. It doesn't matter the outward appearance, inside his tail will be wagging just for me. You see, he will always be my little boy.

Father in heaven, through the days ahead, we each have trepidation through many adversities, both great and small. Help us, Lord, to face the future with love and courage, and please, Lord, forgive me as I pray, in this time of great want, for a little dog who has stolen my heart.

With love,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

Celebrating the End and the Beginning by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

This has been a heart-breaking year for many of us. People from all walks of life have lost jobs, homes, and life savings, all because of greed and lack of oversight. We have seen, yet, another year of bloodshed on the battlefields of two wars. I cannot help but ask myself, will we ever see the end? Even those of us who have a steady income, find ourselves afraid of the future. Will the ax fall upon our hopes and dreams? Will our financial problems ease? Will we live months and months, perhaps years, constantly holding our breaths.

Finding answers at the end of a year such as this, is not easy. Is there evidence that things will change for the better? Will our financial systems finally have oversight? Who decided that it was okay to allow so much wealth to be governed by the incompetent and the greedy? What in the world was our government thinking?! Without answerability, it is as though we simply open the bank doors, and allow the robbers in. It’s just plain stupid!!! So, how can we have hope for the future?

Well, we have a new beginning. We have a new President, a new Congress, a new Senate, and a new year, all rolled into one. For some this new administration is downright scary. President Obama seems exotic and strange. However, I have grown to realize just how much he loves this country and just how much he cares about my children’s future. My prayer for this new President is this: that God will bless him with wisdom and humility. My prayer for this Country is that we will give our new Administration a chance, even as each of us wants a chance, for ourselves and our children.

So, this next year is full of promise and trepidation. We are about to enter the center of a storm of change. Pray that each of us will meet our Maker in the eye of the storm, and cling to Him.

The Eye of the Storm

Words and Music by Jaye Lewis

Keep me, oh Lord, in the eye of the storm,
Where my heart can beat without fear.
In the silence so deep;
In the warmth of Your love;
I know that Your presence is near.

For though it is dark, and the silence so still,
Your Light still illumines the place.
You are with me, oh Lord;
You surround me with hope;
In the dark I can still see Your face.

In the eye of the storm, I can hear with my heart;
The beautiful tones of Your voice;
And though I may dread,
The destruction I hear,
In my soul, I still can rejoice.

They surround me, oh Lord, with their visions of hate;
I can see that they've singled out me!
With my hand tucked in yours;
And my hope in Your love,
I know that I truly am free!

So, I wait on the storm, with a joy in my heart
-- A gift that I know comes from You --
So, how can I fear?
I am safe in Your arms!
In the eye of the storm, You are here!

© Jaye Lewis, 1999