100 Bloody paw prints /// One Bloody crown of thorns

                                                                   

Actually, I didn't count them, just estimated the number on seeing the driveway covered with bloody paw prints. I was astonished at what was going on.  Zach, the second or third in a line of 5 or 6 dogs that we've had since we came back, was a black Labrador we'd gotten when he was only a few weeks old.  Now he had grown a lot, and was putting on quite a performance.

Our neighbors had topped the 8-foot wall between our houses with broken glass embedded in cement, a common deterrent for thieves.  Next door, their dog was about a quarter the size of Zach, and loved to be out on the flat roof...where Zach could see him and join in their verbal sparring, barking their throats dry, non-stop.  That's where the little dog was now, and he seemed to relish baiting Zach, knowing he was out of reach.

Zach, apparently, decided to try proving his foe wrong.  All the bloody paw prints covering the driveway were the result of him jumping as high as he could, somehow managing to just barely reach the top of the wall, where, of course, he cut the pads of his front paws on the pieces of broken glass.  What was hard to understand was why he kept on leaping and barking, in spite of being wounded. He either didn't really realize what was happening to his paws, or he didn't really care!

We managed to get him settled down, and I stopped the bleeding, and cleaned and bandaged his paws. (We couldn't afford a vet.)  His heart was racing wildly, and even to someone who is not a vet, it was obvious he was going into shock. Thinking I had done as much as I could, I left him to rest, and went inside.

A few minutes later I was called outside again.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  Zach had gotten up and was starting his side of the argument all over again!  There he was, leaping up and trying once more to reach the little dog on the roof!  He had hurt himself in a vain effort to prove he was bigger and better, (besides, this was HIS territory!) and now all he could think about was continuing the confrontation.  It didn't matter that he was only making his wounds worse.  We finally got him to stop, and stay stopped!
                   ****************************************************

What an illustration of the way we human beings act sometimes!  We have to prove our point, no matter what, even if we pay a price to do it. And we often make things worse, rather than better.  On top of that, we can end up hurting ourselves much more than the other person...and even then, sometimes we don't stop!  Pride makes us do stupid things sometimes, doesn't it?                                                                                                                                 

But there was one Man who showed us that battles should be waged against Evil, not against each other.  He bled, but not out of pride.  His battle wounds were won in destroying the Enemy of our souls.  He did prove a point:  God's love is so great that Jesus chose to bleed to death in order to give us Life.  His humility and utter selflessness, his willingness to be wounded even though He was innocent of any wrongdoing whatsoever, gave Him the greatest victory in all of history.

John the Baptist said of Jesus, "Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!"  (John 1:29)

The Israelites used to have to make sacrifices of lambs for forgiveness. They should have died for their sins, but the lambs died in their place.  However, this had to be repeated over and over again, as there was no perfect sacrifice available.  And then Jesus came!  We should die for our sins, but the Lamb died in our place.  And because He was a perfect man, his sacrifice was permanent, all-encompassing, 100% effective.  What a way to win an argument!   

Then He added the final, conclusive, essential piece of evidence for his side of the contention: the Resurrection!  Amazing! 

As we approach Easter Sunday, let's celebrate this awesome event with heart-felt gratitude to God for loving us so much that He couldn't bear to see us die!  He let Jesus' death and resurrection prove his point! 
                                                            
Have a blessed Easter! Join me next week.

Death and resurrection...of a marriage; and a poem about starting over

                                                                                                                                                   

No, not ours...but that of a couple who were, and still are, dear to us.  When we returned to Quito, they had separated; she had remained here with their three young children, and he had gone to the States. During our first year back we had a lot of interaction, serving as a shoulder to cry on, as sounding boards...and just loving them. We cared so very much about the outcome of this precious couple's life. They were broken-hearted and we wept for and with them.  We prayed for and with them.

(It'll be easier for you to read if I give them names, won't it?... not their real ones, of course.  We'll call them Jack and Jill.)

 As time progressed, it seemed like there wasn't going to be an easy solution for their situation, BUT on another level, even more basic, God was doing wonders.  Jill told me once that before, she had gone to church, etc., just going through the motions, not from the heart.  But now, she said, she was doing it because of her love for Jesus!  She went with us to see a small drama that Debbie's class presented at school, and when they sang "If God can make a whole new world, He can make a whole new Me.", Jill turned to me with tears in her eyes and said, "That's what He's done for me!" 

Someone once said, "God can mend a broken heart, but He has to have all the pieces."  For Him to mend a marriage, each one has to "get down to the basics" with Him FIRST, give Him all the pieces, and then let Him start to work.  The best foundation for a marriage is an honest relationship with God. (Something that takes a lifetime to learn, maybe, but is worth it, as we ourselves are still finding.) So Jack and Jill needed God to touch their hurting hearts, individually, and bring them back into line with His.

About a year later, the divorce was finalized. But that was no obstacle for God! Once the kids had finished the school year, Jill left to the States to take up residence near to Jack so that they could both have time with the children, and to do some counseling. And then things started happening that had us cheering!                                       

                                                                                                         

 
Jack wrote that, as he and Jill spent time together, he was falling in love with her all over again! I think it was the new Jack and the new Jill that were being drawn together.  Approximately six months after the divorce was finalized, we got an invitation from their children for the re-marriage of their parents!

(It was in the States, so we couldn't attend, but we were thrilled!)  More than 20 years later, he tells me that they are still living the miracle God so graciously bestowed on them! 
                                                                                                         

I wrote this poem for them about the time they were re-joining their lives.  I wanted to include it here so that you could share it with anyone who is going through similar circumstances.  God doesn't just stick bandaids on broken hearts.  (That's what WE try to do, and it doesn't bring a lasting solution!)


                                                Bright Colors       (or This Second Time)

                  The first time, all we could see was BRIGHT COLORS.
                  Then they started to fade...into WARM PASTELS.
                  We grew afraid, drew back...and they turned into COLD PASTELS.
                  The COLD PASTELS iced into dingy, dreary gray.

                                  Then gray melted into black,
                                  and black wove its tent around us.
                                           When was day?
                                           When was night?
                                           What was black?
                                           What was white?
                                           Who was wrong?
                                           Who was right?
                                           We had to fight!
                         But it was so dark, we couldn't see the enemy...
                                       so we fought each other.

                          Then God picked up a red-dripping Cross
                          and slit the tent, ripping open the darkness.
                                     How the Light hurt!
                          But as it seared in,
                          we saw each other again...
                          I was horrified to see in you
                          the reflection of my darkness.
                          Were you frightened, too?
                                    Pride and pain of years.
                                    Angry, sorrowing tears.
                                           We both were wrong.
                                           We both were right.
                                           We had to fight!

                       But then we began to see our common enemy.
                      Then we began to cling to our common Conqueror.
                      Then we began to listen to each other's heart.

                                   And, little by little,
                           the black melted back to gray,
                     then to COLD PASTELS...(a little color!)

                     Come, beloved,
                      let us pluck the COLD PASTELS
                              - those tiny buds of hope,
                                those tiny sprouts of faith -
                      and hold them to our souls...to warm them.

                   WARM PASTELS...
                   kindling the fire of the Creator-Artist's BRIGHT COLORS
                                  - brighter yet this second time -
                   that will once again give us
                                        the day,
                                        the night,
                                        the black,
                                        the white,
                               the strength to fight!!
                            but not against anymore.
                               Not against, but for,
                   as I see in your eyes reflections of His Light,
                                in your smile reflections of His Love,
                                in your words reflections of His Peace.

                             We'll let His colors rhyme
                                     this second time.                               
              ******************************************-Becky Rhon******           

                       

                                                                                  
                                                                        God bless you all.  See you next time!

It doesn't last if we try to fix it ourselves.

"I'll never see my son again!"

                       

That was my mother-in-law's concern every time Germán traveled to another country. She was afraid that something might happen to him, but even more afraid that she might die before he returned! When we left for Australia as newlyweds, Mama María (as I and others of my family called her) was only in her 60's, but still worried because we were going so far away, for so long, and might not make it back before she died.  When we came back from Australia after five years, she was content.

  Two-and-a-half years later we moved to Shell, but that was still in Ecuador, and we would travel to Quito several times a year.  After eight years in Shell, we went to the States, for those three famous years in Dallas.  Of course, we thought it would only be a year; we never dreamed it would turn into three.  But even a year was a burden for my mother-in-law, then in her lower 80's.  "I'll never see my son again!"  (Imagine how she felt when she heard he was going to have surgery!)

Mama María had nine children. (One died in infancy.) She was the second wife of Germán's father, who had six children with his first wife.  So there were a total of 15 siblings! Germán was the second-to-last child (of the 15), so he has half-nieces and half-nephews who are older than he is.  But even his full-nieces and nephews are a lot older than our children. His oldest full-niece is only a year younger than I. (His oldest full-sister was married the year I was born!)  Dan and Debbie were the very last of Mama María's grandchildren, and being the offspring of her favorite child, she was very proud of them.

One of the main reasons she doted on Germán was that when his father died, Germán took on the role of "man of the house" (at the age of 13).  Also, he was the last child...she thought.  I think Germán's little sister, born four years later, was a bit of a surprise. (In case you wonder, she and I got along well!  When Germán first took me to meet her, she was nervous and pessimistic. Germán told me later that what won her over was the hug I gave her when we were introduced!)
                                                                                                                                   

Mama María was living with Germán's brother next door when we returned from Dallas, so we saw a lot of her, and she was again happy that she hadn't died before her son came home.  Three-and-a-half months later, it was SHE who traveled to another Land, from which she never returned.  On November 19, 1992, at the age of about 85, Mama María went to her eternal Home.                    

 
Thank God that we don't have to say, "We'll never see her again!", because she is waiting for us in Heaven. I'm sure she was there to greet my father when he made the same trip 11 months ago!

   What a way to start out our first term as full-fledged missionaries with HCJB! We settled into our house, the kids were enrolled in school (Dan in 12th grade and Debbie in 6th), and Germán started acquainting himself with his new responsibilities...                                                  And then a funeral! But not one without hope!


                                        *************************

 Who gives us hope for eternal Life after death?  Let me say it with the lyrics to a short song I wrote, with echoes of Job's assurance:

                            My Father

              My Father, You love me.
              I know that You value your child.
              I know that You now have me carved in the palm of Your hand,
              now and forever.
             
 My Father, I love You.
You know on which pathway I go.
And when You have tested me, then I will come forth like gold:
pure and holy.           
                                                                                                              

My Father, I praise You.
I now see what I only had heard.
Whatever may happen, I know my Redeemer's alive.
My eyes will see Him.  
                                                  -Becky Rhon
         ******************************************


I hope with all my heart that you have met your Redeemer and know that He's alive!  See you next week!

                                                                  

"What Do You See?" (a song)

If you had looked into our living room in the summer of 1992, you would have seen stuff all over, barrels and suitcases....all the detritus of our three years in Dallas, migrating into all the nooks and crannies until it could be organized and either packed or gotten rid of. We had finally received the green light to return  to Ecuador!  We didn't have 100% of the financial support required by the mission, but they made an exception in our case because we own our own home and property outright (no loans or mortgages), and therefore wouldn't have to pay several hundred dollars in rent every month.  (We wouldn't have to pay for language school, either!) We only had 65% of the quota, but we had both grown up here and figured we could handle it. No luxuries, maybe, but we wouldn't starve!
                                                                                                                                

Dan had asked to stay in Dallas to finish high school with his friends...and keep playing football!  He was a real asset to the small Christian school's team, so when he changed his mind and decided to do 12th grade here in Quito after all, his coach hit the ceiling! Germán and Debbie and I traveled in early August, then Dan came down a little later.  We were home at last!
            **************************************

Some years ago, I got to wondering once how God must feel when what He sees in our hearts isn't all that commendable (or is just plain awful!).  Amazingly, He doesn't throw a fit and tell us to clean up our act...or else!  (Remember your mom telling you to clean your room?!) Rather, He is ready, willing, and able to step in right beside us and set to work cleaning up, as soon as we let Him.  How He loves us! I wrote Him this song...

                                                                   
                                                                  What Do You See?

                     

What do You feel as You walk through my heart,
seeing dust on the windowpanes, making it dark;
hearing silence in halls made for echoing praise;
wondering if anyone cares if You go or You stay?

What do You see, looking into my heart?
I think some of the doorways were locked from the start.
And there must be some rooms I know nothing about...
but I must have your help to start sorting things out.

                  My Child, as I walk through your life,
                  I'll clean the dust from the windows to let in my Light;
                  I'll oil each rusty hinge so the doorways swing free;
                  make the rooms all ring out with hosannas for Me.
                                   

What do I see as I walk through your soul?
I see my Blood on the doorpost, my Name on the wall; 
and a banqueting table laid with Heaven's best fare,
where together we'll dine... and Eternity share! 
                                                                 -Becky Rhon
                      **************************************

When we let the Son's light shine into and through our hearts, it isn't only of enormous benefit to ourselves.  God can use his light to illuminate the way of those around us who can't see which road to take.
                                                     

 May you feel God's presence in a special way this week and enjoy the warmth of his Love and his Light. See you next time!

                                                                                                                       

"Song Design", a poem...a reminder...a challenge

I wrote this poem in 1990, during our three years in Dallas -  longing for the day that we could come back home to Ecuador.  After you read it through we can chat a little bit about its implications.


                                               Song Design
                                    
       I tried to write a song for You,
       to make men clap and cry, "Encore!"                             
       but the hand-picked notes I carefully drew          
       didn't dance on the staff like they had before.

I tried to make the lyrics shout,
to make men want to listen more;
but the well-thought phrases I carved out
didn't glow in the dark like they had before.

                       
                      I said, "It's done", and looked it through;
                      only then did I wonder where You'd been.
                      When I tried to make this song for You,
                      had I written it backwards - just me, again?
   
                                      I looked up to your patient face   
                                      and all my tunes slid off the lines.                  

                                      Then your love set brave new words in place
                                      and your Heart poured its music out into mine.           

           Your Heart poured its music out into mine;
            now, that's how a song should be designed!

                                                             - Becky Rhon

*************************************************

              

Although I did write more songs, this poem means a  lot more than that.  Every one of us has "songs" to write -  all the projects and plans and ministries and jobs and dreams and duties with which our lives are involved.  But sometimes we do them "backwards", don't we?  We start out with OUR criteria and then (usually when things aren't working out!) we remember to put God into the equation.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." (Col. 3:23)  "So...whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." (I Cor. 10:31)  This doesn't only refer to our projects, jobs, dreams, etc.  "Whatever" means just that.  Decisions and relationships and how we treat others, for example.  How do we make sure we're on the right track? God's Word gives us more than sufficient guidelines...but we have to read it!  (Osmosis won't work here!)

We can start in our homes. Wives, let's make our husbands glad they married us!  Husbands, make your wives feel precious and loved! The family is much too important to God for us to just "wing it". He tells us how to  do things His way because that's the only way guaranteed to work (and work "for the glory of God"), and to give us peace...and because He loves us so much that He refuses to leave us clueless!

Let's allow God to pour His Music out into our hearts and lives...so that it bathes us in its richness and flows out to touch those around us. 
                                 **********************************************

   God bless you!!  Meet me here next week.


   

1. "MY Aunt Becky!" 2. Names (of cars...and men)

As usual, I had stopped at the daycare center where my two little nephews spent part of the day, to pick them up and take them back to our house to have the rest of the afternoon with us.  "Agie" (Adrian) was somewhere around 18 or 20 months, I think - maybe a little more - and I was holding him in my arms while the workers got his things together so that we could leave.  There were several other little children there who hadn't been picked up yet, and they edged closer and closer until they had formed a semi-circle around us. They stood stock still, just staring up at us solemnly.

Agie began to be visibly uncomfortable with the situation. He stared at each one in turn, and was obviously trying to digest what he thought were the implications of their attention.  Then he suddenly tightened his grip on me, glared down at the group of kids and warned them, "MY Aunt Becky!"  (In other words, don't get any ideas; she's MINE...and I'm not sharing!)

During the three years we were in Dallas, from 1989 to 1992, we babysat Agie and his older brother "Tito" (Patrick) part-time, so they wouldn't be spending the whole workday in the daycare center.  They were very smart little guys, and left their marks on our hearts.  Agie was a demonstrative child, easily giving hugs, and his favorite snack was "gwapes and waisins".  Tito accepted hugs but was much more interested in whatever he was curious about at the time.  He was a precocious talker, and I think maybe one of the worst disciplines for him when he acted up was to be put into "time out", where he had to stay in one spot...and be quiet!  (They are both adults now, and called Patrick and Adrian, but to me, inside, they'll always be Tito and Agie!)

Many other activities filled our hours and days and weeks: school, church, etc.  Dan and Debbie were in a small Christian school, and had their sports and band events, rehearsals and practices. (Dan played football and basketball; Debbie played the flute.) We couldn't do much in the way of deputation, it being necessarily confined to whenever the kids had a vacation from school.  

In all this, our trusty "steeds" were just that - trusty.  The car we had bought for $1 in Miami was a large, older-model maroon four-door, and I named it The Wombat (which is a very dense animal).  Sometimes we called it the "BMW", but that just meant "big, maroon wombat"!  We needed another car, since I was the one who shuttled the kids to and from school, and did most of the other errands while Germán was at work.  Our second car was small, blue, with two-doors, and I named it The Blueberry.  When we bought Dan a car some time later (he would be in the U.S. while we were in Ecuador), I named it The Roadrunner.  It was a cynical name because it had trouble working up speed!  It sure took its time - would never have worked for a drag race!

These weren't the first of our cars I had named. In Australia we had a little old one named "Pancho López".  When we returned to Ecuador, one of our first cars was an ancient van with a rounded front, just about the shape of a bumble bee...so I named it La Bunga (bumble bee in Spanish).  Then in Shell we had an even more ancient car (it was REALLy old), so it got named Methuselah.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has named cars!  Some of you reading this probably have.  It's fun, isn't it?!!  (You know, I wonder if God ever has nicknames for us...!?)

God gives an overwhelming importance to names. He himself presents various ones of His own, and each one tells us something about Him. (Sort of like...if you didn't know anything about me, but heard someone call me "Aunt Becky", you'd know that I had at least one nephew or niece. Of course, with God it's on a fantastically larger scale.)  God changed several people's names in Bible history when they were going to have a change of direction: Abram became Abraham; Sarai became Sarah; Jacob was given the name Israel, and Jesus called Simon by his new name - Peter. But the most important thing that can happen to our name is for it to be written in God's Book of Life.  And that can only happen when we become His children and He our Father, and Jesus our Savior and big Brother.  Is your name written in the Book of Life?

If it IS...wonderful!!  If it's not...hadn't you better do something about it?

Have a great week!  Join me next time.

Mis-medicated...sue Caduceus!

Of course, Caduceus himself was innocent.  No need to sue him. It was the doctors who were to blame. It's just that every time I see a caduceus,  I think of this...

Do you remember when I told about my collapse, when we lived in Shell?  (You can refresh your memory starting at this post:  http://therhonsjourney.blogspot.com/2013/08/if-i-keep-on-like-this-ill-break.html (Sorry if the link doesn't work! Never tried it before. I even followed the putting-in-a-link for Dummies, but must have missed something. And I don't speak HTML!)

I had seen an endocrinologist in Quito, and he had done tests, which showed that my cortisol level was really low...not a good thing.  So he put me on dexamethasone, which I continued to take until we went to the States for the three years it took us to raise our support.

In Dallas, I found an endocrinologist. Do you know what he told me? After going over my files, he said that there were a couple of varieties of my kind of hormonal imbalance (adrenal insufficiency), and that I had the one that was more serious - I would have to take the corticoids all my life, since they were what kept me alive! He told me to get a medical bracelet, the kind with the "caduceus".  (I'm glad it actually has a name, and isn't called "that symbol thingy with a pole with wings at the top and snakes winding around it".)

I had one etched with my particular diagnosis. I thought I would have to wear it for the rest of my life. I never took it off.  Then, as I was having more severe leg pain than before, the doctor switched my medication to predisone...which did help with the pain, BUT...Oh, my goodness... I started wondering if I would be this ugly forever! Those of you who have been on it know what I mean - the red, puffy face, weight gain, etc.  I got to the point where I didn't even want to look at pictures taken of me before all this, because the contrast was so great; all it did was depress me more! I was grateful to God for the medical attention, but my "inside" didn't find it easy to accept my "outside"!  I was only in my mid-to-late 30's.  Did I have another 50 years ahead of me looking like that?                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

You have seen the recent pictures of me that I posted a couple of months back...and I don't have a red, puffy face, do I?  ( See Two Pictures; a Poem for the New Year; and a continuing story...). (Ditto about the link.) WELL...Caduceus and I broke up! Many years later, thanks to his persistence, my father managed to get me an appointment at the Mayo Clinic (not an easy thing to do), during one of our furloughs. We went to the one in Arizona.  There they did bunches of diagnostic tests over several days - and it was covered completely by our health insurance!

The verdict:  my endocrinologist had messed up the last 15 or more years of my life!  (Actually, the doctor who presented me with the final evaluation used the word "ruined".)  They didn't find any reason to continue with the prednisone.  They also found I had arthritis and a dysfunctional sacroiliac...and a few other things.  I DID have hormonal imbalances, but corticoids wasn't the way to go. So I began to wean myself off of them, and eventually the time came when I could actually bear looking at myself in the mirror again!
              **************************************************************

As you can see, we've "been through the wringer" with our various "infirmities", and we continue to battle health issues as we grow older.  ("Older", NOT "old" - we decided a while ago that we weren't going to be "old" for another 25 years or so!)


We really like what St. Paul said:  "Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." (2 Cor. 4:16)  Maybe it should say, "Do not lose heart!", because as humans, we sometimes do, but with all the blessings that God gives and IS, it needn't remain that way.  SO CHEER UP!
                    *************************************************************

So many people are "mis-medicated" spiritually.  They are mis-directed or try on their own to find the solution to their spiritual infirmities...always searching, but never finding the cure. In their struggles, they may have looked everywhere...except the one place that has it all. They don't know where to look, or if they do, don't want to face it.  God is the Great Diagnostician, knows exactly what's wrong with each of us, and has given us, his imperfect creatures, a Book that has the ONLY cure.  All the remedies needed for it are at our disposal!  With them we can also say , "yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day".  Can YOU say that?

Have a wonderful week, and meet me here next time!