Random Yardman Strikes Again....

Ok....I am struggling a little...well, a lot, with all things relating to Random Yardman. Let me clue some of you in to the past few days.
First of all, this new guy is really Random Yardman number 2 (RY2). The other one hasn't been back since last spring. Maybe they rotate neighborhoods. Anyway...he showed up at 3pm two days before Christmas and asked for $100 to rake our yard. A. That is OUTRAGEOUS for our yard. We don't live on 5 acres. Most of the leaves have already been taken care of, and he expected us to provide the bags. B. Do you really plan on starting a yard at 3pm? C. That is OUTRAGEOUS. So...after he gives Mom some long sap story...she agrees to let him work. THEN, after working 2 hours, and ringing the doorbell no less than 3 times in the 2 hours, he asks for an advance. Again with the sap story and a promise to return to finish. Mom said she told him that she trusted the Lord, because when He sent someone to help her, He always made sure they finished. His reply, "That's right; that's right. The Lord sent me."
So...on Christmas Eve, he returned...this time, he was brought by a policeman. To make a long story short, the policeman told him that if he didn't finish our yard in a time he (the policeman) thought was appropriate, that he would be coming after RY2. Mom said, "Well...I guess the Lord wanted to make sure that he came back to finish the job."
He came back today. He got very upset when he found out that Mom was not there to get him some garbage bags and to pay him. He began to give me the sap story and demanded I call her. So...I called her, and we determined that I would get the bags and his money, and since I had to leave shortly, Will would look over the work when RY2 was finished and pay him, if it was complete. When I left, there were open bags of leaves everywhere. When I arrived home...there were open bags of leaves everywhere. When I called my brother to ask what happened, he told me that RY2 was finished. I asked about the open bags, and Will said that RY2 promised that he'd close them and put them on the side of the road. So he paid him and left. So...I closed the bags and put them on the side of the road.
I have spent much of today ranting and raving about being conned and taken and how irate it makes me. Maybe it's a result of getting robbed at knifepoint in my car for accidentally cutting someone off. Maybe it's a result of being harassed in Subway by someone asking for money and then making comments about cutting someone up for crossing his path. Maybe it's a result of working over 40 hours a week, cleaning house, etc. in my spare time, and being taught that everything you do should be as if doing it for the Lord.
And it is this last statement that causes me trouble. It makes me really mad to feel taken advantage of. I've really considered putting up a sign at both doors: "NO SOLICITING!!! This means for yardwork, Girl Scout cookies, hand-outs, etc." However...when I think that what that really says is, "If you're looking for grace, you'll not find it here," that upsets me. I mean, Mom, and even my brother, has this soft place for people out to do a very little work for an unreasonable amount of money. I think our house is well known. I'm sure they say to each other, "Try to avoid going if the little white car is there. Look for the silver one." Mom and I have gone round and round over this kind of thing. I find it very easy to say "no." She says yes, tries to hide it from me, and then inevitably I find out, and we have a discussion about being suckered. I hate it.
And I really hate thinking that I have no mercy. Where is my compassion? And then I wonder...well, does having compassion mean being blind to being suckered? I mean, shouldn't we be able to expect to give what is due when it is due, and not until then? That guy had no intention of returning to our yard. At least, not until he needed the rest of the money. Had that policeman not told him that he would be seeking him out, RY2 would not have come back. And now...since I would rather have a yard free of open leaf-bags, when that policeman drives by, he will think that the job was done and go on about his way.
I haven't thought about myself as a heartless tight-wad. I like to think that I'm a generous, big-hearted, softy. HA !!!! One can dream. Anyway...It's times like these that I'm aware of the cynicism that is growing within me. There has to be a balance to it. Surely, there is a balance. I don't think that compassion is blind. I think compassion sees exactly what is there and still has pity. But it is not blind. Lord, help me to see what You see, and to act as You would want me to. Help me to not let the anger that wells up within me to govern my actions if You say to act otherwise. Show me what the balance is. I want it to be obvious that You, O Lord, are responsible for the grace being given and received. I don't want people to look at me and question my love for You. If being suckered is what it's going to take, then Lord let it be.

"Brushing Hair"...from Further Still by Beth Moore

I was in Knoxville airport waiting to board my plane. I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego......
I tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from underneath his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy grey hair hungwell over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on an old man.
I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered reading somewhere that he was dead. So this man in the airport...an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?....
There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.
I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing! I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please! I'll do anything! Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!" ...
There I sat in begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now! I'll do it on the plane. Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man, now. I'm on this Lord. I'm you're girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am going to witness to this man."
Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair." I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush, it's in my suitcase. How am I suppose to brush his hair without a hairbrush?"...
God was so insistent that I involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly finish you unto all good works." (2 Tim 3:7) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"
He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?" "May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that. At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem, I don't have a hairbrush." "I have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, and clean smelling, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair, mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull.
A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I--for that few minutes--felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's.
His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?" He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures! He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior. You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, "What a mess I must be for my bride."
Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.
Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board the plane, an airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Can you tell me what made you do that kind act?" I said "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!"
I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, or hungry, if you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or, He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!
I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way...all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.
John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

While in exile...

"Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon, 'Build houses, and live in them;

and plant gardens, and eat their produce.

Take wives and become the fathers of sons and daughters, and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; and multiply there and do not decrease.

And seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf; for in its welfare you will have welfare.'...

"For thus says the Lord, 'When seventy years have been completed for Babylon, I will visit you and fulfill My good word to you, to bring you back to this place.

'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.

Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.

And I will be found by you,' declares the Lord, '

and I will restore your fortunes and will gather you from all the nations and from all the places where I have driven you,' declares the Lord,

'and I will bring you back to the place from where I sent you into exile.'"

Jeremiah 29:4-7, 10-14

Hold On....Nicole Nordeman

"It will find you at the bottom of a bottle. I will find you at the needle's end. It will find you when you beg, steal, and borrow. It will follow you into a stranger's bed.

"It will find you when they serve you with the papers. It will find you when the locks are changed again. It will find you when you've called in all your favors. It will reach you on the bridge's highest ledge.

"So, baby, don't look down; it's a long way. The sun will come around for a new day. So, hold on; love will find you. Hold on; He's right behind you now. Just turn around, and love will find you.

"It will find you when the doctor's head is shaking. It will find you in a boardroom, mostly dead. It will crawl into the foxhole where you're praying. It will curl up in your halfway empty bed.

"So, baby, don't believe that it's over. Baby, you can't see 'round the corner. So, hold on; love will find you. Hold on; He's right behind you now. Just turn around, and love will find you.

"To hang between two thieves in the the darkness, love must believe you are worth it. You're worth it. So, hold on; love will find you. Hold on; He's right behind you now. Just turn around; He's right behind you now. Just turn around; Love will find you."

Command whatever You will...

"On your exceedingly great mercy rests all my hope. Give what you command, and then command whatever you will. You order us to practice continence. A certain writer tells us, I knew that no one can be continent except by God's gift, and that it is already a mark of wisdom to recognize whose gift this is.57 By continence the scattered elements of the self are collected and brought back into the unity from which we have slid away into dispersion; for anyone who loves something else along with you, but does not love it for your sake, loves you less. O Love, ever burning, never extinguished, O Charity, my God, set me on fire! You command continence: give what you command, and then command whatever you will."

-St. Augustine X:40
57: Wis 8:21

Belong....Chris Rice

"Fading memories ignored, I crawl across the forest floor.

Pool reflects an orphan child, dirty, lost, alone, and wild.

Fatherless, and nameless still; fallen heart, and broken,

Will there ever be a place where I belong?

"I cower 'neath the monster trees, and try to stand on tired feet.

But gravity knocks me to the ground,

where I give up and tears roll down.

I claw the dust and beg the end, curse the day that I began to hope

there'd be a place where I belong.

"I hear a sound I recognize. You lift my chin and seek my eyes.

The song of love You sing to me, I ache to sing it back to Thee.

'Father Love prepares a place, and brother Jesus leads the way,

Follow to the place where you belong.'

"How did I miss this wondrous song? The forest sang it all along.

River rinses all your shame, and Father offers you His name.

Father Love prepares a home, and brother Jesus leads you on,

Follow to the place where you belong.

"Father Love prepares a place, and brother Jesus leads the way,

Follow to the place where you belong."