Dangling From An Orange Tree

We've all had moments in our lives when circumstances send us "up a tree."  Here is a story about just that sort of thing, taken straight out of the pages of my childhood...  Enjoy!

“Dangling from an Orange Tree”

© By Chris Schneider

It had never happened to me before, but there I hung, just nine years old and dangling helplessly from the limb of an old orange tree in my back yard at 3:30 in the afternoon.  I was stuck alright, with my cherished and now errant blue skirt fast becoming my hated enemy.

I had climbed high up into that tree – probably 20 feet off the ground.  The trouble was, there was no one around to respond to my cries for help, or even to sense the growing terror rising within my heart.  

But there I hung anyway, with green orange tree residue quickly spreading all over my hands and clothes and no where to go except straight down.  I just knew I was in for a crash landing - if I ever got unstuck, that is.  Trust me when I tell you, it was not my idea of a good day.  

I know. I know.  I should have changed into shorts beforehand. But that was not what my nine year old mind was thinking about when a cool spring afternoon began calling my name. I threw caution to the wind.  Again.

The annoying thing about my sudden predicament was that in the past I had always enjoyed this special limb without a problem ever coming my way.  It was a favorite spot, a savored afternoon place where I literally hung out all the time.

I knew the tree well.  Often, I would happily scale the trunk with both hands quickly finding their favorite niche on a nearby limb. Swinging back and forth, I would enjoy the thrill of gaining speed and height with each pass, just like a trapeze artist.  Only I wasn’t one.  Finally, I would release my grasp and fall effortlessly to a quiet earth.  I loved it.

On that particular afternoon, however, just as school let out, I made my way up the base of the orange tree and quickly climbed upward like a monkey, skirt and all.  After all, I had done this hundreds of times before.  I never thought once about how the back of that skirt might get snagged and interrupt my fun.  Monkeys don’t usually have problems like this.

There I was though, as time ticked away slowly, my hands growing weary with each passing minute, and fear losing no time taking up residence in my heart.  What would happen to me if I just released myself entirely to an unknown outcome?  I didn’t even want to think about that, and instead decided to hold on tightly for a wee bit longer.

Needless to say, I learned a lot about time and eternity that day.

Finally, I heard the sound of my father’s white Pontiac as it made its way down the driveway.  Dad was just coming home from coaching practice at our local high school.  Thank God.

“DAD!!!”  I screamed at the top of my lungs.

To this day, I can still see my father breaking into lightning speed as he sprinted toward the backyard. (There was a definite reason why this man had become a great coach.) 

When Dad made it to the orange tree, he lost no time looking up at me, his youngest child, and quickly assessed the situation.  He also saw raw fear and exhaustion written all over my face. 

At once he told me to release my hands from the orange tree limb.  “Don’t worry.  I’m here to catch you.” His voice was reassuring.

So I let go, straight into the arms of my dad who carefully caught me.  No more worries of a broken leg, a gash to my head, or worse, a possible broken arm.  I was safe. 

And the skirt?  Well, let’s just say I never wore it again.  Good riddance.

A number of decades have passed since that unforgettable day from my childhood.  Needless to say, I’ve had some time to think about the incident a time or two. 

What have I learned from that unexpected afternoon?  Well, God is like our father.  He faithfully shows up when we are headed for a crash. And He is great at picking us up when we fall down.  His arms, open and everlasting, are always there for those who find themselves dangling from the complications and challenges life throws their way.

And when life sends a person up a tree, it’s so reassuring to know that God is right there every time - ready, willing, and waiting to catch us when we call out to Him.   

~~~

• “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.”

(Deuteronomy 33:27)

A New Journey After Job Loss

The journey after job loss is a common road millions of Americans find themselves on at this point in time. I hope this piece will provide new hope and perspective if you find yourself in this place. God bless you...

“A New Journey After Job Loss”

© Chris Schneider

My job of two years ended not long ago.  I can still recall closing the office door for the last time, reluctantly saying goodbye to my paperless desk and gathering up a few remaining personal belongings that had helped make my work world feel more like home.

The job had suited me as I grew professionally, immersing myself in a variety of creative and administrative assignments, serving the people of a small church congregation.  Now it was time to say goodbye.  There was nothing left to do but leave quietly, gracefully.

But I dreaded the end.  The job had provided its own rewards, despite the disappointment of hours cut and no raise ever coming my way. Money was just plain tight for the church, and had been for quite some time. In so many ways, this job had become a mirror image of what was playing out all across our nation.  And with the latest round of budget cuts, my job lay there in a heap, whittled down to bare bones... it was simply time to go.

Alone, as I made my way to the brown double doors of the fellowship hall, I stood there for a long moment taking in the large room one last time.  Yes, I was definitely feeling the pain of closing a cherished chapter of my professional life, and with it, the prospect of facing a tough and uncertain job market.  I wondered what in the world God might have in store for me. Then suddenly my eyes came face to face with a large portrait of Jesus on the far end of the hall.  It was as though Jesus had carefully chosen this exact moment to look straight into my eyes, not letting me go.  I took hold of this unexpected precious comfort right then and there, grateful for the inexplicable timing. Then in was time to walk out that door.

Since that day, the memory of the portrait of Jesus has stayed in my thoughts. I know in my heart He is doing a new thing.  His Word tells me so.   And as this “new thing” unfolds, I find that I am pouring myself out to Him in a fresh and deeper way.  “Please, Lord,” I catch myself saying, “Lead me carefully. Help me not look back in anger. Make me more humble, and help me to trust you more.” Finally, I ask him to increase my faith, and in his perfect timing, open a new door of opportunity that I’ll know for certain is his doing. 

Yes, it has become a time of uncommon communion with the Lord.   I love that He is always wide awake to listen to me.  After all, He never sleeps or naps.  Sometimes, in moments of pure whimsy, I picture myself mailing God a blanket, or at least a pillow, because I keep Him up so late with my prayers.  Then I quietly remind myself that He has no need of my reinforcements. His attentiveness to me and anyone (at any time) is boundless.

And so my journey continues down a road I do not travel alone. Other men and women in similar places are starting to come alongside me. Meeting fellow sojourners becomes a highpoint of every day.

Job loss and job search bring people together in special ways.  Like me, most of the people I meet have experienced being knocked down a time or two, maybe even more.  Yet we all seem to get up, dust ourselves off, and press on. We are our own best cheer leaders.

And then there is God, whose grace and hope continue to fill the lives of all who will trust Him with their future.

Lead the journey, Lord.  We are all right behind you.  Amen.

• See, the former things have taken place, and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.” Isaiah 42:9

• “He who watches over you will not slumber.” Psalm 121:3

• “And the train of His robe filled the temple.” Isaiah 6:1

Lesson In The Dentist's Chair

Everyday life has its ups and downs and twists and turns, and sometimes extraordinary things happen when we least expect them.  The following is an example of this very kind of thing, taken out of the pages of my ordinary world...  Enjoy!

Lesson in the Dentist’s Chair

© Chris Schneider

It was a recent Monday morning when I reluctantly made my way to the dentist’s office for a routine cleaning. I knew I needed to go even though I had that lingering sense of dread which wouldn’t leave my thoughts.  Been there and done that, I told myself, but now it was time to do it all over again.  Oh well, I knew the drill.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my dentist.  He is one of those rare individuals you meet every once in a great while whose enthusiasm level is off the charts.  To be around him is to see life differently.  His staff is pretty much the same way. 

Anyway, there I was, settled into one of those long dental patient chairs with a little napkin draped around my neck, gazing out the window at the woods on the other side of the glass.  That’s when Kelly, my kind and observant dental hygienist, started up her prep for my appointment.  So far, so good, I reassured myself.

And so the cleaning began.  Kelly placed her fine instruments into my mouth and right away asked me a question. “How is the job going?” she inquired. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself.  “How do I answer her without sounding like I speak in a garbled foreign language?”

In that moment, Kelly’s instruments took a brief rest.  Quickly, so as not to interfere with the task at hand, I explained to her how I had taken an interim job caring for and tutoring two boys in my neighborhood, ages 8 and 11.  The job had been a great fit for everyone and I had enjoyed the boys immensely over the past several months.  I also shared the fact that the family would be moving soon, as had been expected, and I would be right back to looking for a more permanent professional position.  She sensed my anxiety.

Kelly’s instruments started back up again. I sat silently - her captive of sorts - and waited for her response.  “Well,” she said matter of factly, “God provided this job for you and He will most certainly provide another.”  Her words were firm, careful, and she was so full of faith. I was speechless, unable to utter a word even if I had wanted to.

The hour passed by harmlessly enough.  Scrape, scrape.  Polish, polish. And then the appointment was over. Happily, my teeth looked good and I felt great, relieved that once again I had managed to get through my session so well.

When I left, I climbed into my car and secured the seatbelt. Soon, my thoughts returned to the events of the previous hour.  What had happened in that appointment was certainly more than I had expected. Was there a lesson here I was supposed to be learning, albeit an unexpected one?  I thought so.

  

It was noteworthy, I told myself, that the minute I had stopped talking, God had found a way to speak up, openly conveying to me His thoughts through a wise and attentive lady – my dental hygienist. Yes, my interim job would be ending soon.  He knew that.  And the fact that I was concerned about what would be in store for me was also something He knew.  The bottom line was He understood my concerns for the future long before I ever had a chance to chat with Kelly.

I smiled as new awareness began to slowly wash over me.  God had been subtle alright, yet unmistakable in arranging for me to be in a dentist’s chair that day – forced silent for a short while – just long enough to let me know He was in control of my next career move.

“God will provide,” Kelly had reassured me.  Her words were emphatic, yet gentle. They were words He wanted me to hear.

God had spoken when I could not, right there in a simple dentist’s chair. Only He could have managed to pull off putting a fresh smile on my face while at the very same time filling my heart with renewed hope for the future. 

I’m so glad He and I made that appointment.

  

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10  

                       

Lizards, Dogs, Pianos and Books - And Other 2011 Thanksgiving Blessings

With Thanksgiving just a day away, I hope you'll be able to find a few quiet moments to sit down and enjoy this  - maybe with a dessert plate in your lap or a nice cup of coffee or tea in your hand.  I am grateful for YOU!

“Lizards, Dogs, Pianos and Books - and Other 2011 Thanksgiving Blessings”

© By Chris Schneider

There are so many reasons to be thankful this year, despite my job loss at Easter time.  Some of these come to my mind just now and push to be acknowledged, sort of an “I want to be first in line” kind of deal.  No bullying here, I tell my head, just the sharing of what I’m grateful for in no particular order.  Here goes…

I am thankful for a little eight year old boy, Nate, who I watch several days a week.   He is an all-boy type of kid who every day puts on his military camouflage Halloween costume and walks over to my house with bug catching equipment in hand as he systematically and singlehandedly purges my yard of lizards.  (Do you need this done?  I’ll get you his business card.) Later, at dinnertime, he prepares us both a special drink of berry punch, organic milk, and a lime wedge placed on the edge of a dolphin stemmed goblet with sugar coating around the rim of the glass.  He is a unique, always fascinating child, to say the least.

Speaking of unique children, there is Nate’s big brother A.J., 11, a diehard animal lover who regularly looks forward to the task of making my dog, Daisy, and his dog, Rooney, best friends.  To this task he is deeply committed.  And it’s happening.  My dog is a mix of Corgi, Bassett Hound and Yellow Lab. Odd, I know.  His, on the other hand, is a pure bred Chocolate Lab.  They are as different as night and day, but they are a sight to see when Rooney puts on a show for Daisy. She is charmed by his funny antics too.  A.J. is a dog whisperer alright, and he is also quite the editor when writing and perfecting his fifth grade school essays.

My Thanksgiving list keeps growing as the minutes pass.  There is Caroline, my young adult daughter, who teaches piano to a legion of kids.  They get stickers at each lesson, and they also get a great teacher who is patient, enthusiastic, loving, and professionally trained.  She has a knack for bringing out the best in anyone she is guiding.  Her recitals are fantastic and largely free of pressure because her students know they are undergirded by an affirming person who wants them to learn and still love what they are doing at all times.

Then there is Melissa, my other young adult daughter, who makes her way to the Winter Park Towers every other week as the Winter Park Public Library’s special ambassador. Her assignment there is to bring carefully selected books to homebound library patrons.  On those days, she is the much looked forward to young woman of the hour.  Each of her elderly patrons receives books which are chosen just for them, along with a special visit from my daughter. They are blessed and so is she.  Later, Melissa always has wonderful tales to share about “her people.”

And there is that husband of mine.  I am thankful for this man who works tirelessly - not only at work but at home.  He is focused and fearless and always about the business of making things better.  “Bored” is never part of his vocabulary.  He is fascinating all the time.

Speaking of special people, in early November, renowned author and historian David McCullough came to town and spoke at Rollins College Knowles Chapel on a Friday evening.  The author, now in his 70s, was animated and still quite vigorous, sharing his thoughts on a wide array of topics.  One thing he recalled with special joy was having meals as a boy with his parents and grandmother, who lived with the family. During those intimate meals, he soaked up the wisdom of his elders which created a solid foundation of knowledge and inquiry for a boy who would later become America’s foremost author of American history.   “We need to have dinner conversation,” he emphasized to his captivated audience.  Then quietly, but still with great conviction, he added, “We need to have dinner.”  Good advice for all of us caught up in 2011 fast lane living.

Yes, Thanksgiving makes me grateful.  I appreciate the growing list of people I am having the privilege of meeting as I seek a new position.  I love the fact that I am actually growing and in the very midst of growth.  Now is a time of deepening - not only in my core talents, but also as I open myself to change and new direction.  I believe God has a plan, and I’m attentively watching for His signs and leading, grateful to be on the road He has mapped out for me.

I still love the beauty of a fall leaf, the hug of my neighbors’ children, the hilarity of my dog’s joy every time she goes for a walk or a car ride, the color of an autumn sunset, and the beauty of listening to a friend or new acquaintance.  I love the fact that the God on high is also right beside you and me every single day. And finally, how grateful I am to be living in a country that fought hard to give us the freedom we enjoy at this moment.  God bless America.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

 

 

Dirty Dishes in the Sink

One recent morning I trudged into my kitchen only to behold a stack of dirty cat dishes.  Again.  It's a scene I often encounter, only this time, it got me thinking... 

I hope you enjoy this one!

Dirty Dishes in the Sink

Every morning, when I walk into the kitchen, I am welcomed by the sight of dirty cat dishes that fill up the sink – sometimes both sides of the sink.  Sigh.

My husband is the official ‘breakfast waiter’ for our cat menagerie of three.  Believe me, he has his hands full serving our little trio.  On time.   Every day. 

Naturally, they make it their business to boss him around.   They cry.  They scratch at their food cabinet.  They rule the start of the day (and other parts of our 24 hours.)  Some mornings, one of our felines even sneaks a walk inside the cabinet, despite great effort to prevent this little trek (or trick). 

Eventually, my husband completes his challenging task, and even gets himself to work on time.  Barely. 

The cats, for their part, never think to leave him a tip.  What they do leave, like I said, is dirty cat dishes.  For me.  Joy. Joy.  And I don’t mean the dishwashing detergent.

Dirty dishes.  They are, plain and simple, a part of everyday life.  Plates filled with little globs of ketchup, a piece of veggie you can’t seem to put into your mouth, maybe even an unwanted food morsel that you simply refuse to try today, thank you very much. Then there are the glasses that accumulate throughout the day - way too many of them, which don’t quite fit into the already full dishwasher.   Frustrated yet?

And someone has to deal with all this mess.  If you’re reading this, you are probably thinking, “That ‘somebody’ is me.”  Ugh!

What about when God sees our messes?  Doesn’t He watch us each and every day, staring directly at all the stacks of messes we make in our own lives?  Of course.  And does He throw us away, treating us like a dirty plate that needs to be scraped?  No way.  Instead, He takes hold of each plate, each glass, each of us, as if we were the most precious piece of bone china or fine crystal that was ever made. Then He lovingly, gently, washes us thoroughly until at last we come out clean - till the next time.  All He asks for in return is our gratitude and a chance to be a vital part of our lives.

Well, it’s almost that time again.  Time to clean up the morning mess in my sink. 

Thank you, three felines who, despite the mess, we love so much.  Thank You also, dear God, for cleaning up my messes, big and small, on each side of the sink, today and every day.  Amen.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9


Copyright by Chris Schneider 2011

The Little Black Notebook

The following is a piece I wrote to honor my Mom the year before she passed away.  Her heart was always an open door to me and to all those who had the privilege of knowing her.  I miss her so much.

Pull up a chair... enjoy!

The Little Black Notebook

My mother is the owner of a small, black, spiral bound notebook. At first glance her “little black book” appears to be quite ordinary. Upon closer inspection, however, it quickly becomes apparent that this is a one-of-a-kind notebook that might very well top the list of my mother’s most priceless possessions.

Over time, the little black notebook has become worn with age.  Vigorous daily use will do that to just about anything, I suppose.   And because of this, the notebook has become invaluable to its owner.  

Scrutinizing the contents, one quickly observes a host of carefully recorded pages with many handwritten notes and details, some written down many years ago.  Other entries document more recent years.  One thing is certain: this very-dear-to-my-mother’s-heart notebook, which never leaves her side, is an ever active and alive little treasure – so very much like its owner.

So what exactly is this precious possession, this little notebook which occupies so much of my mother’s time and attention each and every day?   It’s her prayer book.

Over the years she has recorded the prayer needs of family, extended family, friends, neighbors, church friends, community issues, all branches and positions of local and national government, and many other ‘prayer points’ which have woven their way into the fabric of my mother’s important and far reaching prayer life. Nothing appears to be too big or too small to lift up in prayer before my mother’s all caring God.

When I think of my mother, especially the older person she has become, I picture a small, white haired, green eyed stalwart of prayer - still remarkably active and interested in every one... 88 years young.  She is an amazing human being to all who know her.  

The thing that blesses me the most about this dynamo is the fact that she prays about so very much. Not only does my mother remember our whole family every day, she also prays for countless other people and issues which she and God discuss as they meet together on a regular basis just inside the open door of her heart and home.  There is no doubt in my mind that much is accomplished in these all important prayer appointments.

My mother is a prayer warrior.  Oh, she might not wear a suit of armor or carry an automatic weapon, but her prayers are just as strong and well disciplined as a soldier fit for battle.  They also reflect one woman’s genuine caring for so many, with prayers marked by their careful timeliness and commitment to things that truly matter.  Naturally, she is not a perfect human being, but my mother is the most gracious and grateful person I will ever know, whose soul stays open to all.  She is deeply thankful to God for the forgiveness of her sins and for the assurance of Heaven where one day she will live eternally.   

“Blessed to be a blessing.” These are the words my mother especially loves to say, so much so that they already appear on the epitaph of her tombstone, words which have guided her throughout a long and richly blessed life devoted to prayer and people.      

And so, with a one-of-a-kind, not-so-ordinary little black spiral notebook as her trusty daily prayer roadmap, my remarkable mother continues to pray.  One day at a time. Every day.  For the rest of her life.

And God listens. 

“The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.” James 5:16b8  

(Copyright, 2011 by Chris Schneider)