I think about ESP a lot. Mostly because there's this button on the dash of my car, just to the right of the big red HAZARD button, and I can't ever remember what the letters actually stand for... So while I'm driving, I see the button, and I think, "What does that stand for again?"

Extra-sensory perception is what pops into my head first. You know, the ability to sense things that are outside the five physical senses with which our bodies interact with the world around us. I believe we all have it to some degree. Call it intuition, or a "gut feeling," or a "sixth sense" it's part of being a human, created in the image and likeness of God.

Too "woo-woo" for ya? Consider this... you are a spirit, you live in a body, and you have a soul (your mind, will, and emotions). Your spirit is the part of you that is (Or should be, and can be!) in constant communication with God, whether through hearing the still, small voice of His Holy Spirit "speaking" to you on the inside, or sensing His presence in nature or feeling His divine energy and power demonstrated in the love of others.

Your spirit probably also picks up some other voices, too, the way a radio set to scan will land on channels just because they're out there. Those voices might be distracting, or dark, or even demonic, looking for a way to deceive you. Remember, just because something is broadcasting, you aren't required to listen!

In reality, the ESP button on my dash stands for "Extra Stability Protection" and it has something to do with the all-wheel drive system that keeps the tires from slipping. (Yes, I had to get out my owner's manual and look it up.)

Hmm. From a spiritual standpoint, having the kind of ESP we should have (hearing from heaven for direction, or warning, or correction, or encouragement) would give us Extra Stability Protection in life. Maybe now I'll be able to remember it. If nothing else, it reminds me to listen!

I've been walking/hiking almost every morning since we moved, fascinated by the fact I can cover MILES without ever leaving the property, which is weird for my brain. Since running across the bear tracks, and listening to the coyotes howl at night, and knowing we have mountain lions nearby, I've taken to "packing" my great-grandpa's 1900's era .38 when I go.

It wouldn't have helped today. I'm just not that good of a shot!

My folks lease space to some local beekeepers (more on them later). In the last six weeks I've passed the hives multiple times without incident. Today, I must have irritated the bees...

Nowhere near the hives, I just thought this tree I encountered on my hike was cool.

I was about 50 feet from the hives when the first bee attacked. It body-slammed me in a Kamikazi move right in the middle of my forehead. Yes, my first response was, "Oh crap." Before I could recover, bee #2 knocked into the side of my head, stinging my temple. My second response is not kosher to repeat. When I realized another (third) bee was chasing me, I got a little nervous and started to run.

Do you run from bees? Wait, are they like mountain lions? I know you aren't supposed to run from mountain lions... (These were the thoughts in my head as I "booked it" across the field, frantically waving my arms to try and dissuade any unusually cranky bees from attacking me further.)

I jogged the half mile or so to my mom's and she doctored up my stings. The stinger from the second bee was still neatly lodged in my temple.

When I got home I kept hearing a strange buzzing sound... upon removing my kerchief I discovered bee #2 had joined me for the ride home, trapped in the folds of fabric. Poor bee.

Again,nothing to do with bees... just thought this chubby-muffin ground squirrel was posing for me.

I generally LIKE bees. I used to "rescue" them from drowning in the river when I was a kid. I've NEVER been attacked and chased by honeybees.

Was it a sign? Is God trying to tell me something?

Um... maybe. How about, "Don't walk so close to the hives, dummy."?

Listening to God is a lot simpler than we think, I believe.

Day 23.

Three weeks and two days without Stepford-wife drugs in my system. I liken this phase to that "pins and needles" feeling you get after your foot falls asleep. Excruciating, agonizing, and generally impossible to do anything about except ENDURE. I hadn't realized how numb I'd become. Comfortably numb, in fact, to quote Pink Floyd.

Well, nothing's numb now! Everything, good and bad, strikes me upside the head like a gale-force wind, inducing one of two reactions: rage or tears, and sometimes in unison!

Ah yes, I remember this shrieking, ranting woman from my younger years. If anything, she's meaner now than she used to be; the result of years of snarky comments backlogged behind a firewall of medication, I suppose.

What I don't remember are the tears and the weepiness and the sudden urge to sob hysterically with or without benefit of PMS. That's new. OK, so I'm probably overdue. I can count on both hands the number of sob-fests I've had since I started taking Effexor. Sometimes when I wanted to cry I couldn't. Not so anymore! Now I can barely stop.

My mettle (yes, that is the correct word, it means courage, spirit, valor, or inherent character, disposition or temperament) has been tried and tested this week, without benefit of mind-altering drugs. (Whoever thinks prescription medications are less dangerous than the illegal stuff simply hasn't taken them. 'Nuf said.)

1. The Patrick got a speeding ticket. For most people, this is not considered a big deal. In my addled state, this is a BIG DEAL. You see, I've never had a speeding ticket. Hubby gets one every time the last one comes off the insurance, it seems. (He insists that is not the case, but my perception is my reality.) Thankfully, the officer was kind and merciful (perhaps HE is on antidepressants?) and didn't fine him double for being in a construction zone, among other mercies which shall not be mentioned here.

2. The Lukester broke his wrist. Again. (I think this is the 3rd time.. 1st time snowboarding/skiing, 2nd time playing football.) According to the doc, if it "feels better" in two weeks, it may have been a sprain. Sheesh. Did X-rays used to be more effective, or have people just forgotten how to read them? If not, he'll have to go to the orthopedist for more X-rays and such. This injury is the result of a fall while skateboarding, which, if I may rant for a moment, is quite possibly one of the most stupid human activities ever devised by man. Right up there with snake-handling, bungee jumping, and fire-walking.

These two incidents occurred within 24 hours of each other, and I attempted a female Hulk transformation each time. Now I'm tired and achy and slightly green. If stress burned calories I'd be really, really thin.

The Patrick tells me the ticket was a "wake-up call," that God has been prompting him to slow down (he is burning the candle at both ends, and I am concerned) not just on the road, but in other areas as well. The Luke and I are still sort of at odds with each other over his boo-boo. At some point he may admit that his latest over-priced owie is the result of not listening to the still, small voice of the Spirit, warning him, guiding him, but right now he's just defensive.

Last night after they got home from the emergency room (I refused to go, because I just get mean), I opted to go for a late evening walk instead of stewing, brooding, and ranting. I clambered through the fence just at the edge of the property and started following a disturbingly well-traveled critter trail. I'd gone about 50 yards, noticing deer and horse and bunny and dog (or coyote) tracks before I spotted this...


The Ethan says it's a bear track. Less scary to me than a mountain lion, because bears don't usually PLAY with their food, but still... I snapped the picture and quickly made my way back to my usual walking route, berating myself for failing to stop and grab my pistol before I left the house in a huff.

Yeah. I do it, too. Sometimes, especially in times of emotional distress or even emotional eustress (that's 'good stress'), I don't listen, and then I have to ask for mercy. My mercy last night was not being eaten by a bruin.

The lesson? If you're going so fast and furious that you can't slow down to hear and obey the Spirit's voice within, you're going too fast. It's liable to cost you, and those who love you, something down the road. Don't wait for the "wake-up call," just WAKE UP!

What's your internal warning system been saying lately?

I love carnivals, with their subtle aura of danger and "sleight-of-hand" atmosphere. I'd rather go to a carnival than one of our fancy new theme parks with their perfectly manicured flower beds. Carnivals have, for lack of a better word, character.

The word carnival is taken from the Spanish word for meat - carne. In Greek, the word is sarx, and refers to flesh. A carnival is, literally, a festival for the flesh. The blinking lights, the smell of cotton candy and popcorn, the brightly colored toys and prizes, and the sounds of game hawkers and tinny recorded music are designed to entice and attract all five senses. And there's an important lesson we can learn from our carnival excursions, one that will help us the rest of the year if we'll just keep it in mind.

Have you ever taken kids to a carnival? They never have enough tickets to ride all the rides as many times as they want. There's never enough money to play the games long enough to win the giant stuffed Dalmation that won't fit in your car. They'll eat sweets and chug soda until the centrifugal force generated by the spinning rides catches up to their tummies. And then beg for "one more ride."

Have you ever gotten home with one of those cheesy stuffed animals with stickers for eyes and fur that fuzzes off in your hands only to realize you just paid $63 for a $2 toy?  But you couldn't stop playing until you won, right? Even though you knew the game was rigged. Even though you knew the carnie behind the counter was an expert in triggering your pride, getting you to try to knock over those stupid milk bottles "just one more time."
What happens to us in that carnival atmosphere? Overwhelmed by the assault on our senses, we become "carnivally minded," so caught up in the thrill of the moment we forget about the consequences and live for a five-second (or five-cent) reward.

"Oh, but that never happens to ME."

Oh yeah? How about the last time you went to a really good clearance sale and spent three times as much as you planned because "it was on sale"? Or the time you stopped at the car dealership on the way home to pick up a replacement bulb for your license plate and drove home in a brand new car, because the sales guy was really good at what he did? Or how about that time you got all stressed out when your in-laws came to visit, and then you burned the dinner and had a complete fit of carnality (aka flesh fit) in front of your entire family and the neighbors from across the street? That's "carnivally" - or carnally - minded. Shall I continue?

The world around us -- God's creation -- is truly a sensory delight, a carnival for the senses. Unfortunately, in the same way your momma used to warn you about those "carnies" at the carnival, there's an entity in the world that would like to suck you into that carnival and keep you there.

Paul wrote to the church at Rome, "For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace."



Rome was a lot like a perpetual carnival in those days. Rome might have coined the "what happens in Rome, stays in Rome" motto. Paul was trying to teach the believers there that giving in to their flesh all the time would result in death and destruction, while God's plan, to be "spiritually minded," would instead bring life and peace.

So what is being spiritually minded? Well, it's not becoming a Stoic, or living an ascetic life for the sake of achieving holiness, wandering around smacking yourself in the head with beads or whatever strange religious ritual folks come up with. Being spiritually minded is a lot like what happens when parents mature and take their kiddos to the carnival. You eventually learn to say "no" when that little chunk of flesh you share your name with starts screaming in the stroller, demanding MORE.

Why can you say no? Because you, as an adult, see beyond that present moment. You can see bedtime interrupted by tummyaches, and tears when the overpriced balloon pops in the car on the way home. You've stepped outside of the urgency of "right now" and are aware of something more, something better.

And so it is with us as we navigate the carnival of life. Be aware of that inward witness that is the Spirit of God in the Christ follower, listen when that witness pipes up in there and says, "no." He won't lead you astray. You can still enjoy the carnival, partake of the fun and games, but if you'll listen to the Holy Spirit, you won't go home with an empty wallet or in need of barf bag.

If you think of December 25th as Jesus' literal birthday (I don't want to argue with you about it, because what matters is that He was born, and 33-1/2 years later He died on a Roman cross, and God raised Him from the dead for the forgiveness of our sins) then approximately 2000 years ago, a very pregnant teen mom was slogging her way across Israel in... no, on, a Mustang. (Wouldn't that be the modern day version of a donkey?) Okay, maybe a Bronco, or a Pinto. You decide.

This is not a tale of honor and glamour. Even Brittney Spears' little sister and Sarah Palin's daughter became targets of criticism when they got pregnant and decided to go ahead and have their babies. Teen moms just don't get many kudos, and they never have.

Flip the pages of the story back a few chapters. Nine months, to be exact. Historians estimate that Mary was between 14 and 17 years old at the time, based on her betrothal and cultural traditions of the day. I picture her doing chores - making a bed, or sweeping the floor - maybe she's grumbling about it, as teenagers are wont to do, when an angel shows up with a God-gram (like a singing telegram, but with an angel for the delivery guy, instead of gorilla or a girl in a funny costume).

We have trouble with the angel-thing because we have, as a culture, separated ourselves from the reality of the supernatural realm as far as it concerns God, angels, and demons. But Mary was a Jewish girl. She'd been brought up believing, accepting, and expecting the reality of the supernatural. It's sad to say, but I think today's teenagers would be more likely to recognize a vampire or a zombie than an angel of the Lord.


Gabriel, in all his angelic splendor, shows up, strikes a pose, and says, in his big, booming angel voice, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."
Teenagers being teenagers, I'm guessing Mary slouched in her chair, or leaned on her broom, and shot  him the "look." The one that involves an eye roll, a slack lip, and an expression of supreme skepticism. (If you have self-esteem problems, stay away from teenagers, no matter how old you are.) Scripture says, "she was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be." Read it, and then and picture that reaction on some teeny-bopper you know.

Gabriel doesn't wait for Mary to start arguing. He says, "Don't be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus..." (Do you suppose this is where we get the sarcastic saying, "Don't do me any favors?" )
Mary knew what the angel said wasn't the equivalent of a winning lotto ticket or the world's largest Easter basket. An unmarried pregnant woman in those days was subject to punishment. The punishment for fornication and adultery was death.
O-kaaaaay. Put yourself in Mary's shoes, er... sandals. Angel brings a promise from God that, if you accept it, will likely result in humiliation, shame, broken relationships, and possibly death by stoning. We're not given any indication of Mary's pre-marital relationship with Joseph, whether they were "courting" or whether the marriage was arranged and they scarcely knew one another. Regardless, Mary knows if she accepts this "favor" from God, Joseph will have good reason to hate her. He'll have reason, according to Jewish law, not just to break their engagement, but to have her brought before the Sanhedrin for trial.

Teenage Mary looks the angel over. Thinks about what she believes. Acknowledges the One she's been brought up to trust implicitly for her every need and desire: Adonai, Jehovah, El Shaddai, and goes out on a faith limb.

She turns to the angel and says, "I am the Lord's servant... May it be to me as you have said."
That might be the boldest statement in scripture.

It ranks right up there with anything Abraham, Moses, Daniel, Peter, or Paul ever said. It's a statement of purely selfless faith. Note that: "self-less," not "selfish." How much did she know in advance? Did she understand all the prophecies? Did she realize God was about to accomplish a divine mystery through her? I don't know.

What I do know is that it takes great faith to grasp any of the promises of God - from salvation to healing to accepting a call to ministry - and say what Mary said... "be it unto me, according to Your word."

The promise is there for you. What do YOU say to it?