Cathy's Heart

(Part 1) The challenge of writing a blog, especially one designed to encourage others in their faith, is to make sure your posts don't come across as self-serving or presumptuous. That said, this post has been particularly difficult for me to write. In fact, this morning I'm tempted to just throw in the towel. But instead, I am pressing on and praying that this post, along everything I write, will point my readers to Jesus, to His Word and to a deeper walk of faith. "Cathy, you need to write." I have heard this admonition in a variety of ways for years now. So a couple of years ago I started this blog. My original goal was to write a post once a month. That didn't happen. Until this past summer, on my fifty-second birthday, when I set a new goal to write a blog post once a week. So far, so good. Even though last week I didn't write a post for this blog. Instead, I wrote one for a new blog titled,  Cathy's Heart on Training Up Teenagers.  These blogs are my...

Maria's Story (Part 1) A little more than a year ago, my husband and I made a big move into a tiny new house. We love everything about living here---our house, our neighbors and our community. I love that from my front yard, I can look west and see the tops of fancy hotels, high-rise condominiums and tall office towers that make up the skyline of downtown. That is where my husband works. And, now it is where I drop off the dry-cleaning, mail packages at the post office and often shop for groceries. It is also the address to a large homeless population. Whenever possible, I drive down the streets where my poorest neighbors live and I pray, "Lord, bless these precious souls. And teach me, help me and show me how to love my neighbor as myself." Even before we officially moved into our new house, there was one homeless woman who stood out to my husband and me. One we especially ached for. Small, frail and hunched over, she slowly walked through the streets of our neighborhood...

Last weekend, my heart broke when I learned about the death of a man who had been my doctor for many years. A dear friend shared the shocking news with me at church on Sunday, assuming I had already heard. The doctor had been my primary care physician until insurance changes dictated I find a new one. My friend, also his patient, explained our doctor had recently died of cancer. How could that be? He was a "young" man not much older than myself. With a heavy heart, I went home that afternoon and crossed off a long standing item on my "to do" list. Not because it was done, but because I waited too long to do it. With regret, sorrow and sadness I erased the item on my list: send a thank you to Dr. Nusinow. Dr. Nusinow, an internist, was the doctor I went to when pain, swelling and stiffness began in my joints several years ago. (Read my post Even in Darkness Light Dawns) I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis (R.A.) And as God would have it, my doctor just happened...

Older Women Teach The Younger I loved whenever my friend's mommy, Mrs. W, drove us places.  I watched her  as her long, brightly manicured fingernails clicked against the steering wheel to the beat of the country music. I was just a little girl, but I remember thinking,  I can't wait to grow up and have long pretty fingernails so I can tap them to the music just like she does.   This was my first memory of being mentored.  Of course, I didn't even know what a mentor was back then. And, Mrs. W certainly had no idea she had mentored me. But, all the same, it was mentoring. I call it  ORGANIC MENTORING.  Because,  whether we know it or not,  whether we like it or not, each of us are mentors and we are all being mentored!   When I was in high school, there was a woman who I thought was very "cool." She wasn't "not-with-it" like my parents. (Or, so I perceived them. Sorry mom and dad!)  I watched this woman.  I confided in her....

I parked the car, laced up my tennis shoes and headed out for my daily walk. The crisp, fall air felt cool on my skin. I strolled past tourists and speciality shops on my way to the boardwalk. Once there, I picked up my pace. I noticed how choppy the water was on the bay. The sailboats pitched back and forth on the rough water.  I followed my normal course east, then turned south toward a lush, green park area. Unexpectedly, a strong, cold gust of wind came off the water. My hair whipped in my face, and I decided to turn back and continue to head east.   I walked past the boat docks on my right and the hotels and restaurants on my left. I watched the people around me. Some were exercising like me, others I branded as convention goers because of the name tag that hung from the lanyard around their neck and some were there simply enjoying the day.   But one person was out of place. A little girl, with jet black hair was several feet in front of me. I couldn't see her face, ...

Putting out the Tounges Fire Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking lies.  My daughter, who was just five years old, watched while I carefully printed each letter of Psalm 34:13 onto a fluorescent, green poster board. When I finished, she asked me to read the Bible verse we would memorize together during the week. Carefully, I read the words to her. Then she asked, "What does it mean?" "What do you think it means?" I asked. A repairman working on an ailing appliance in the next room stopped his task to listen. "Don't stick your tongue out at people,"  she announced with delighted confidence. It was all the handyman and I could do not to burst out laughing. Oh, the tongue!  I wish it were as easy as not sticking your tongue out at people. From the first day I began my walk of faith,  God started to work in this tiny member of my body.  Like the layers of an onion, He patiently peeled back one layer at a time of my sinful habits to lie, m...

I first noticed the pain in my right wrist.  Probably just sore from the luggage I dragged through the airport the day before , I thought. The next day though, I felt the catch-my-breath kind of pain begin in a joint on my right ring finger. Fear crept around the edges of my heart. "Dear Jesus" I prayed "please, not again!"  My mind flashed back ten years earlier when the same debilitating pain started in the same joint but on the opposite hand.  And, I remembered something else that happened  at the exact same time  the pain began. For some mysterious reason,  I felt convicted to memorize God's Word . Not just a verse here and there or now and then, which had been my practice from the time I was a young believer. But  I was compelled to memorize passages, chapters and even books of the Bible.  I felt the need to do it on a daily basis, just like I took vitamins every day.   In the weeks that followed, the pain in one joint quickly spread to ...