The Story of Soap

(Susie, wonderful mother-in-law to my daughter, this is for you.)

Disclaimer: The following may or may not be how it actually happened, but I like the story.

Years ago, our homeschool group went to a soap-making company and learned how soap was made. While I'm sure the chemical process is somewhat more complicated, the basic process is that lye and tallow heated together become soap. That's all the chemistry you need to know for the story.

While we were there, I wondered aloud to the proprietor, "How did people ever figure out how to make soap in the first place?" This is what she told me.

Long ago, people used to go up to the mountaintop to make animal sacrfices to God. They would build altars of stone and build fires with wood underneath, and burn the animals. Much of the flesh would be burned off, but the fat would melt and drip down into the ashes. We get lye from wood ash. So over time, lye would develop, then the fat would drop down into the warm ashes and get stirred up and make a rudimentary soap. When the rain came, the soapy run-off would get into the streams and the people living downstream noticed that things got cleaner with water closer to the altars. Eventually they figured out why and refined the soap-making process.

Granted, this might be a stretch. BUT it does not change the fact that soap to cleanse the body is a by-product of the process God gave man to cleanse the soul. Years ago, when I related this story to my friend Dr. Root, he commented that it was very typical of God to be concerned about the WHOLE person.

I don't think of soap as just soap anymore. Whenever I wash my hands, I consider that the product I am using to stay healthy in the body is derived from a process that God designed to keep us healthy in the soul.

At this time of year, we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Hebrews 10 tells us that the priests had to make sacrifices again and again, year after year, because the blood of bulls and goats cannot take away our sins, but we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. Because of this, God says of us, "Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more."

We do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.

Now, I dare you to wash your hands with soap and NOT think about the One who was sacrificed for you. and I dare you to wash your hands without giving thanks That because of His sacrifice, God remembers our sins no more!!

Walking by Faith versus Walking by Sight

As I was walking across my leaf-coverd path today, I realized that Iwas walking by faith. . I can't see the uneven ground beneath the leaves, and even the leaves I CAN see are rther blurry in the overcast, almost-evening light. I realize that I literally actuallyhve ben walking by fatih a lot in the past months, because I can't see ground clearly and in the dim light, I can't really see at all. Friends walking with me will often verbally try to guide me, but in the end, they usually just grab my arm and we walk side-by-side.

I read a journal entry I wrote less than a year before I got married, that said roughly, "I don't care what Gordon says, I don['t believe God has anyone for me." Gordon is always teling us that when we pray for each other, we have faith for what the other might not have faith for. Twenty-three years ago, Gordon had faith for me that I would marry. And I did. Having faith for each other is kinda like walking arm-in-arm, lending sight (or perhaps vision) to the one who doesn't have it.

Another aspect that occurred to me was that when we can see clearly, we walk confidently and often directly and quckly from place to place. But when we walk by fatih, we often stumble, don't know exactly where we are headed, perhaps wander a bit, and walk more sloly and tentatively.

We often compare outselves to others, our lives to others' lives, our work to others' work, our homes to others' homes--and we often fall short. But you know, getting a lot done, having a perfect home, having a neat-tidy life, doesn't necessarily mean that a person is on the right path. Perhaps they are walking more by sight than by faith.

But you know (spoken from one who by nature is competetive), life's not a race. Close your eyes so you don't see you neighbors's life to compare to your own. Close your eyes and take God's arm and walk by faith. Who cares wher w end up or how meandering the path is--it's the company that counts.

Gary speaks cat!

We have been cleaning, sorting and boxing things to kind of make up for not having built a closet yet or even finished our bathroom remodel. Gary has gone through and repacked just about everything and the wall is lined neatly, nearly to the ceiling with boxes. Apparently, Mermott was overseeing all of this.

When Gary came out for dinner, he inadvertently left Mermott in there, fast asleep on the shelf on the wall. When we heard an enormous crash and the sound of fragile items smashing, he remembered Mermott was in there. When we went to check it out, boxes were overturned and there was almost no entry into the room, and though I called, Mermott was nowhere to be seen.

Gary and I started in immediately on cleaning up and after about 10 minutes, Mermottt appeared from some hiding hole, apparently satisfied that the crashing was now over. I picked her up and petted her and asked her if she was okay. She chirped at me and Gary translated confidently, "Milk please, and make it a double!"

Mermott and Cain

My cat Mermott, eldest daughter of Queen Nermal, only kitten in her litter. has been a little haughty lately. She has this household figured out. She sits on my desk every morning for her pets. After the dog is put away for the night, she calls me into the kitchen, chirping as she leads me along, looking back frequently to make sure I am following, and when we get to the kitchen, looking at the refrigerator and very politely and clearly saying, "Milk?" She is comfortable. She has my attention.

The problem is that she thinks her position is a one-cat-only position. Nermal, always sits at my feet. That's okay with Mermott, because she has a "higher" spot, on my desk. The other day after petting WrongWay (Mermott's niece), I put her on the back of my office chair, and when Mermott entered the room and saw that there was someone occupying a position as high as hers, oh the tone of voice she used! I'm sure I don't have the vocabulary to translate THAT.

But from MY standpoint, I enjoy all my cats. I feed them all. I care for them all. So why does Mermott think she needs to have something no one else has? The truth is, each relationship with each cat is unique, simply because each cat is unique. Susie comes in, eats, and goes out as if this were a fast-food joint. She will allow me to hold her and pet her outside, especially int he hay barn, but not so much in the house. Nermal is at my feet no matter where I go. Mermott is the only one who asks for milk. Buster keeps my chair warm. So why does Mermott think no one else should get pets or a spot by me, it doesn't take anything away from her uniqueness. There is no shortage of attention for Mermott because of any of the other cats, no shortage of food....What's up with wanting to be high mucky-muck?

“Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? ⁷ If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.”

I suppose no one, not even me, expects a cat to overcome the sin crouching at the door. But I find it interesting that most of MY relationship problems come directly from my similarity to Cain. When my friend is favored by God, I should rejoice, but instead, I'm jealous. I am SO Cain. How do I get out of THAT?

Focus! (Dancing with God)

For the past two years, my five-year-old gelding, Pablo, has lived a life of ease, spending time with his herd (his sister and the pony-boss), having meals provided to him, and just being a pet. His sister recently left us and now that the herd is more manageable, my son and I have been spending more time with them. This has brought to my attention some lapses in manners that Pablo has slipped into, which needed remedying. So I invited Laura out to give Pablo a little brush-up course.

First, Pablo did not want to be caught, and before Laura got here, we spent an hour doing laps around the "barn" until he finally tired and consented to be caught. He was not much better for Laura, either, and over the course of another hour, she worked him up into a lather. She backed and ran him and taught him to focus on her. Over and over, she had to remind him that he needed to pay attention to her and her only, and when he didn't, boy was he in trouble. By the end, they were dancing. When she would step forward, he would step back; when she would step back, he would step forward; when she would take a step toward his shoulder, he would take a step away. It looked like a graceful waltz. But he was paying attention to her and her only. Even his head was lowered so that his eyes were at the level of her eyes.

Later that day, I heard a song on the radio, and part of lyrics reminded me very much of the dance that Laura and Pablo did. "I won't speak until You speak. I won't move until You move." And I have to think, am I the horse who is looking at and listening to everything that is going on around me, and sometimes walking into my master, or sometimes refusing to move; or am I the horse who is so focused on my master that I don't hear anything else? I want to be so focused on my Master that when He speaks, I speak His words and when He moves, I also move.

But this takes FOCUS. I have to admit that my first thought of every day is more likely to be "What am I going to do today?" rather than, "Lord, what do You want me to do today?". I have been living a life of ease, a quiet life in a pasture with my herd. A lovely life. But not a Servant's life. I need to focus!!

A Righteous Anger

One day at K’s baseball practice, while I was waiting for my walking partner to arrive. I noticed K not playing catch with the other boys, but lying face down in the grass, off to the side. I figured he was doing a “drama king’ thing because he didn't: get his way about something, but after it had gone on for a few minutes, I thought it was overdone and went to talk to him about it. When he looked up at me, his eyes were wet with tears and his cheeks were streaked. I asked what had happened and he said one of the other boys had said no one liked him and no one wanted to be his friend. My heart sank. I gave him a big hug and told him it simply wasn’t true and that was a very unkind thing to say to him. But I also told him that he was here to learn to play baseball, and he needed to take a deep breath, be brave and go back and do his best. About that time the coach called the boys in and Keary rather glumly sauntered over. I heard the coach ask Keary what was wrong, and I heard Keary say that someone had said no one liked him, but I kept walking away and did not hear the rest.

My walking partner had arrived in the meantime and had been using the port-a-potty and heard the coach’s speech. Unaware of what had preceded it, she said to me, “Boy, I’d hate to be the offending party!” I asked her about it, and she said the coach was saying that all of them were on the same team, on the same side, helping each other, supporting each other, and if he EVER heard anyone talking meanly to another teammate, he would call their parents on the spot and they would be going home.

An hour or so later, when I went to pick K up, he was a smiling, happy child. And I was thankful that my son had a champion.

Don't be afraid

We have this cat, Joe Kitty, who doesn't see very well, and so she pretty much stays indoors. But she still loves fresh air and sunshine. It has been warm and sunny lately, and we have had our office window open. Needless to say, Joe Kitty has been hanging out by it. Yesterday, a really loud plane flew overhead. Of course, because the window was open, it was even louder than planes usually are. It was the kind that make you run to see if they are planning to land on the roof. Joe Kitty was petrified. She couldn't even run. She just made herself as flat as she could and hoped it wouldn't see her. I just kept right on typing. When it was over, Joe Kitty tiptoed over to me and looked at me quizzically, almost as if to say, "You weren't afraid!" So I picked her up and held her close and petted her and said to her, "I wasn't afraid, so you don't need to be either." And I could feel her muscles relax and she started purring.

And I thought, That's how God holds us too, in our times of fear and doubt, and He says to us, "I am not afraid, so you don't need to be either."