Archives For love

Why Doesn't He Send Me Flowers

The flower delivery van drove up and parked in front of the office. Seeing the van through the windows, a co-worker announced “someone” would be getting flowers. However, we all knew that “someone” was one of two people in the office. The only two people to ever receive flowers from their husbands.

The delivery driver walked around the van, opened the door, and pulled out a large, beautiful bouquet of vibrantly colored flowers.

As we looked longingly at the bouquet coming through the door, we all began to lament how our husbands lacked the “I-think-I’ll-buy-my-wife-flowers-for-no-other-reason-than-I’m-romantic-and-I-want-to-show-her-how-much-I-love-her” trait.

A sense of disappointment and irritation began to flicker deep inside me and I began to vilify my husband in my mind. What kind of a husband never thinks of doing anything romantic for his wife?! How hard is it to simply dial a phone number to order a bouquet? I mean, criminy, it’s not like the guy has to pick the flowers and wire them together to arrange in a girly vase on his own! It’s a phone call! I wonder if I can get him into a remedial romantic class somewhere!

As the day wore on, my thoughts and attitude toward my husband worsened. By the time I arrived home from work, I was determined to let him know just what I thought of his un-romanticism. Since I arrived home first, it would have to wait.

By the time my husband’s car turned into the driveway, my sharp words were ready to hurl as soon as he walked in the door. But after waiting a few minutes, I heard him leave again in my car. Curses! The intense fellowship I had planned would have to wait.

Enough time passed without my husband coming home, I had no choice but to start on supper so we could get to our son’s basketball game that night on time.

As I started frying hamburgers, I heard the garage door open and my husband pulling into the driveway. He was home. And I was ready!

When he walked in, I turned to launch into my character assassination but before any words could leave my mouth, he pulled me into a big bear hug. Fine! I’ll take the hug but THEN we are having it out.

As he continued to hug me for a full minute, he told me how he bragged on me to his co-workers about the wonderful supper I had made the night before. He began telling me how lucky he was to have a wife who was such a good cook and how amazing the burgers smelled.

He then pulled away and said, “I filled your car with gas and checked the tire pressure. One of your tires was low so I added some air. I also checked the oil which looks good for now but I need to keep my eye on it. There may be a leak and I don’t want you to break down in the country. Oh, and I returned your library books that were in your car. And I also got money from the ATM for your lunch with your friends tomorrow so you won’t have to go by the bank first.”

The more he talked, the more my anger melted away.

Each sentence was like receiving another flower. He was putting together a beautiful word bouquet before my very eyes. How could I have questioned his worth as a husband?!

Gas and oil may not be the most romantic things a girl can receive but It is romantic knowing he is concerned with my well-being and safety. He genuinely enjoys taking care of me. And he’s proud to call me his wife.

My husband may not pick up the phone and order bouquets but that’s okay. I receive plenty of bouquets through his words and actions.

My thoughts were interrupted as my husband finally ended his lovely word bloom with, “So how was your day at work?”

Disarmed, I replied, “It was……uneventful. I couldn’t wait to get home to talk to you!” *wink*

What “outside-the-vase romance” do you receive from your husband?

©2016 Connie Davis Johnson

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Ernest Gordon was a prisoner held by the Japanese during WW2. The captors in his camp were forced to build a railroad through the jungle and over the River Kwai. The prisoners were treated inhumanely and soon fell into living the law of the jungle where every man was out for himself.

At the end of each day, the tools were counted. One day, it was discovered a shovel was missing. A guard became enraged and demanded to know who had stolen it. When nobody confessed, he screamed, “All die! All die!” He raised his gun to shoot the first man in line when suddenly, a man stepped out of the ranks and said, “I did it.”

The guard began furiously kicking and beating the man. He eventually brought down the butt of his rifle on the man’s head. As the man fell motionless to the ground, the guard continued to kick him. After the violence stopped, the prisoners carried the man’s body back to the camp.

That evening, the tools were recounted and it was discovered there were no missing shovels.  There had been a miscount. The man was innocent and sacrificed his life to save his fellow prisoners.

The man’s selfless sacrifice changed the attitude in the camp. Everyone began looking out for their fellow prisoner. Hatred was still present but there was also love. Death did not stop but there was also life. (Gordon, Ernest. Miracle on the River Kwai. Collins Publishers, 1963.)

This story reminds me of Jesus’ sacrifice. If you’ve ever wondered about this sacrifice, the following are some questions I’ve received along with answers.

Why does God hate sin?

  • Because sin separates us from Him.

“But the trouble is that your sins have cut you off from God. Because of sin he has turned his face away from you and will not listen anymore.” Isaiah 59:2

So there’s punishment for sin?

  • The punishment for sin is death. I don’t like it any more than you but we don’t make the rules. God does. So yes, there is punishment and it’s harsh.

“For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23

“Anyone whose name was not found written in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire.” Revelation 20:15

Is there a way to get out of this punishment?

  • Absolutely! And it is so easy! Through Jesus!

I don’t get it! How does Jesus make a difference?

  • Just as the man stepped out of ranks to take the punishment for the missing shovel, Jesus steps in front of us and takes our death sentence for us.

“He personally carried the load of our sins in his own body when he died on the cross so that we can be finished with sin and live a good life from now on. For his wounds have healed ours!” 1 Peter 2:24

We all die. So I don’t understand how this saves me from death.

  • We do not avoid death in this life. But death is just a doorway to spending eternity in heaven with God or in hell without Him. God loves us and wants our eternity to be spent with Him so He provided the ultimate sacrifice. I would die for my children but I wouldn’t sacrifice them for anybody. My love has a limit. God’s love doesn’t.

“For God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son so that anyone who believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

So what exactly do I have to do to be saved?

  1. Believe Jesus is the Son of God, He came to live as a man on this earth, He died for your sins, and overcame the bonds of death by rising again on the 3rd

 “He then brought them out and asked, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved—you and your household.’” Acts 16:30-31

  1. Confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord.

“If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Romans 10:9

Simply pray: “Lord Jesus, I believe that you are the son of God and that you came to earth and died for my sins and rose again on the 3rd day. I confess that I am a sinner and in need of your salvation. I come to you now and ask that you will come into my life, be my Lord and savior, and forgive me of my sins. In Jesus’ name, amen!”

It’s that simple. Next week I’ll explain the next steps and changes that occur with this decision. Meanwhile, I would LOVE for you to message me if you prayed this prayer.

 

© 2015 Connie Davis Johnson

 

 

Me and Cauri

My daughter recently went with me to a speaking engagement where I shared the journey of my pregnancy with her (you can read about it here). It was one of the most distraught times of my life. Although Cauri had heard the story many times, she had never heard the feelings I experienced during that time. It moved her to tears to know I loved her so much.

And that broke my heart.

I realized although I sometimes share reasons for my teaching or discipline with her, many times I don’t share what I’m feeling.

So my dear, darling, challenging daughter, I want to share with you what I feel almost on a daily basis raising you.

I wake in the mornings and feel worried.

Worried that your heart will be hurt by unkind peers or impatient teachers.

Unfortunately, as the morning continues, I feel angry.

After fighting to get you out of bed, we argue about running late, lost homework, complaints about nothing to take for lunch, and leaving a huge mess in the kitchen for mom to clean since you “don’t have time.”

When you leave for school, I feel relieved.

Relieved we have time to get over ourselves and come back together in the evening for a fresh start.

Relief quickly turns to sadness.

Sadness that I am the one who caused you hurt before the day even had a chance to begin.

The day is then spent feeling helpless.

Helpless as I wonder about your day. How the test is going for which you spent so much time studying, if your friend is still upset with you and turning mutual friends against you, if the bully who sits behind you in two classes is calling you “stupid,” again, about your decisions and if they are wise or made out of emotion. And knowing you’re dealing with all of it away from me and beyond my help or rescue.

By the time you waltz in from school and you look content and happy, I feel reassured.

Reassured all went well during the day.

Reassurance quickly turns to feeling irritable.

Irritable from the complaints over what I’m making for supper, from all the arguing between you and your siblings, from all the things I’m trying to remember: which kids have activities, who is driving what carpool, everything on my to-do list that did not get finished earlier in the day, how much homework each of you has for the evening, calls or emails I need to return before the evening is over. I’m irritable and don’t listen well. I’m short with my words and yell.

As the evening progresses, I feel tired.

Tired from not knowing how to help with homework, from not knowing how to give you direction with your life question, from the sibling arguments, from disrespectful talk toward your dad and me, from feeling unappreciated after having worked at my job and on the house and taking care of all your needs throughout the day, tired from my brain working in overdrive, and tired from all those feelings I’ve been experiencing.

When the evening is over and we all go to bed, I feel guilt.

Guilt over not handling your questions well, not listening when you were trying to tell me something important, saying things to you I shouldn’t have, not having all the answers to your needs.

And guilt for feeling worried, angry, relieved, helpless, irritable, and tired. All of which reminds me of my shortcomings as a mom.

I leave my bed to check on you sleeping kids and I feel thankful.

Thankful God gave me such wonderful kids, thankful all of you are tucked safely in your beds in our warm house, thankful you made a decision to accept Christ’s sacrifice and are guaranteed eternal life, thankful you are mine.

I feel thankful and I kiss you on the forehead as you sleep.

And then I pray! I give all of my feelings and all those things out of my control to God.

Through it all, I feel indescribable love for you.

But know love is MORE than a feeling. While feelings change, my love for you never does! And that love, dear child, will never be compromised!

Pearl Buck quote

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