Dayzee's Food For The Soul

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Sat Jan 23, '10 6:41am PST


	January 23, 2010 A man of understanding holds his tongue. Proverbs 11:12 (NIV) Mission Mississippi, our ministry, sponsored days of dialogue to encourage people to learn how to talk about major issues across racial lines. We held these events in ten different cities in the state. In one of our sessions, a gentleman said, “From where I sit and from what I know about how the people around me feel, there are no racial problems.” The natural response from other people in the room would have been something like, “Where have you been all your life?” But the purpose of our dialogue was not to attack anyone or their views, but rather to listen and respond in a nonthreatening way. So the question we asked was, “Would you help us understand why you’re saying that?” We quickly learned that he had come to us because he wasn’t used to talking in a racially diverse group; he was struggling to have an honest conversation about his own experience. When he discovered that he was in a safe environment, where no one was judging or criticizing him, he began to open up and talk more freely. The hardest thing for most of us to do is to put aside our automatic reactions, to listen carefully and to hear the heart of the other person. If we can, not only will we build bridges across racial lines, but we’ll strengthen all of our relationships. Lord, may I learn to listen more and speak less. By Dolphus Weary

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Sun Jan 24, '10 6:21am PST


	January 24, 2010 “He was lost and is found.” Luke 15:32 (NIV) My youngest son Kevin had moved into his own apartment. Although he lived just across town, I’d not seen him much. Maybe I’m having empty-nest syndrome, I reasoned. After all, he was the last of my four children to leave home. I tried calling. I tried leaving messages. “Kev,” I’d say, “how come you don’t return my calls?” or “How come you don’t stop by?” or “Don’t you know we miss you?” Finally I tried what I should have tried first: I sat down at my desk in the study, bowed my head and prayed. I need Your words, Lord, because mine aren’t working. Help me to say the right thing to my son. Amen. I looked up and noticed the church bulletin on my desk. I’d scrawled a few thoughts on it while listening to the sermon that morning. It was based on one of my favorite Bible stories, the prodigal son, who is welcomed back into the family fold after going off on his own. I read my notes: “No stern sermons, no lectures, no guilt trips. His father, instead, had thrown him a party.” “Of course, Lord!” I said out loud. I called Kevin and left a simple message: “Hi, Kev. It’s Mom. I’m cooking your favorites tonight: shrimp and sausage jambalaya, crawfish cornbread, and bread pudding. Come on by!” That evening after dinner was over and the dishes were done and Kevin had gone back to his apartment, laden with leftovers, I prayed: Father, thank You for the opportunity not just to listen to my favorite story, but to live it. By Melody Bonnette

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Mon Jan 25, '10 7:39am PST


	January 25, 2010 “If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land.” Isaiah 1:19 (NIV) In Daily Guideposts 2008, Debbie Macomber wrote a devotional in which a friend decided to change her name in order to change her attitude. To overcome discouragement, she became “Sheila the Faithful.” Debbie liked the idea so much that she decided to be “Debbie the Trusting.” That struck a chord with me and reminded me of something that happened when I was serving on the board of our church in California. To get an idea of how we elders saw our role in serving the congregation, our pastor asked each of us, “What is your passion?” I heard answers such as “Christian education” and “stewardship.” When it came my turn to respond, all I could think of was simply “obedience.” How did that come to mind so quickly? I thought back over the years and remembered how well things had gone for my family and me when I simply did what God called me to do—and how I struggled when I failed to heed the call. Would I quit my job and move thousands of miles away to do whatever God showed me? I resisted that prompting for a year while my job became an albatross and our fellowship group slowly disintegrated. But when I finally obeyed, I found myself smuggling Bibles for Brother Andrew to persecuted Christians in Eastern Europe. The lesson is clear: When I obey God’s call, something wonderful happens. Which leads me to think I’ll change my name to “Harold the Obedient.” It’s a name I’d like to grow into. Father, I desire to do Your will. It’s my pleasure to obey when You call. By Harold Hostetler

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I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Tue Jan 26, '10 7:09am PST


	January 26, 2010 Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, “Why does this man speak thus? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins, but God alone?” Mark 2:6-7 (RSV) When I was divorced some years ago, I needed the love and support of my old high school youth-group leaders. I hadn’t seen them in years and was living in another state, but when I contacted them I was in for a rude awakening. Their harsh condemnation was crushing, and ever after I carried a deep sense of grief and loss. Last year I returned to Arizona, where I went to high school, for the first time in thirty-eight years. When Gwen, one of the youth-group leaders, heard I was coming, she said that she wanted to see me. I was surprised—and I wasn’t all that sure I wanted to see her. Waiting for her at my friend Carol’s house, I paced the floor. I’d determined I wasn’t going to let the occasion pass without telling her about my feelings, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I’d never stopped loving Gwen, and her condemnation was a badly healed scar. To my surprise, when Gwen came up the walk, I saw her beautiful smile, a smile I’ve never forgotten and which has come back to me over the years in the most unexpected moments. She gave me a well-remembered hug, and before I could catch my breath, she gave me a warm and weepy apology. Her words to me had been bothering her for years, she said, and she was so grateful to God for giving her the opportunity to tell me how sorry she was. “I was young, I was brainless, I followed the script. Will you forgive me?” she asked. Forgive Gwen? Refuse a gift I never expected? Sometimes forgiveness is so easy. Thank You, God, for never forgetting our grief and loss, and for the healing power of forgiveness born of You. By Brenda Wilbee

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Tue Jan 26, '10 7:29pm PST


	When you reach the end of your rope You will find the hem of His garment..

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Thu Jan 28, '10 7:06am PST


	January 28, 2010 “As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you. . . .” Isaiah 66:13 (NIV) When I pressed the button on my answering machine, Angela’s voice came on with a youthful “I’m trying to be casual, but I’m really in a panic” urgency. “Hi, Mary Ann. It’s Angela. I don’t want to bother you but . . .” Angela is the niece of a close friend. She’s in her junior year at college. Now she was calling from her home in Massachusetts, and the gist of her message was this: She was scheduled to leave in two days for a semester abroad in Prague, and her visa hadn’t arrived yet. Turned out it was still at the Czech Republic consulate in Manhattan; was there any way I could get it and express mail it to her so she could board the plane in forty-eight hours? She didn’t want to put me out but . . . It took some maneuvering and feverish phone calls, including a fax from Angela authorizing me to do the pickup, but finally we figured it out. I arrived at the Czech consulate minutes before closing and announced my mission at the front desk. A woman in a business suit strode out with a packet. “You are her mother?” she asked. For a second I was startled, because there it was again, that unexpected lurch of my heart. I’d never had children, and although the deepest disappointment had passed years ago, there were still moments when I felt a stab of regret. “You’re her mother?” the woman repeated. “I wish I was,” I said. “I’m just a close friend.” And then in an instant another thought surfaced. For right here, right now, I am her mother. In situations where a helping hand or a loving gesture is needed, I am someone’s mother. The thought had a good feel to it—and the regret was gone. Holy Spirit, please keep my mind open to being a mother to others. By Mary Ann O'Roark

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.

Purred: Sat Jan 30, '10 11:30am PST


	A Rare Perfume Every so often you get a whiff of something that triggers off a whole chain of reminiscences. I walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago and the lingering traces of air freshener reminded me of Lifebuoy soap--the original orange-pink bar with the hexagon corners that graced the old washstand in farm kitchens. Everybody who crossed paths with a bar of Lifebuoy came away feeling cleaner,and smelling it too.At one point it seemed the entire rural population was a walking billboard.Suddenly the soap tycoons switched perfumes, and we had to pay for more sophisticated but less effective forms of advertising. Hair tonic seemed to hold it's own a bit longer, despite the fact that it smelled like perfumed chicken fat, rancid at that. When the spring winds beckoned, many a young man with hair slicked down shiny went courting a girl friend who sprouted a frizzy home permanent , traces of which, when exposed to warm sunshine, faintly resembled a skunk. What I find peculiar is that people seem to interpret odors differently. What is perfumy to one person is pungent to another.[ My husband] detests brushing against geranium leaves, while I think their scent is rather invigorating. The apostle Paul reminds us that, as believers, we represent the " aroma" ( sweet savor) of Christ ( 2 Corinthians 2:15 ). Not everyone, however , will interpret our behavior as sweet (and sometimes for valid reasons!) , nor will they savor our presence if it means embarrassment to them in an uncomfortable situation. We should remember that rare perfumes have subtle appeal and a dab behind each ear is about all that is required. Instead of gently attracting people toward Christ, however, some Christians feel they must " come on strong". Overwhelmed by such a bold confrontation with the gospel, unbelievers may actually find it repulsive. Just as we use perfume with discretion , so we must use discernment in approaching people about salvation. It is reassuring to know that even so humble an effort as a life daily committed to Christ leaves lingering traces of testimony wherever we go, and " through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him" ( v. 14)