The drive to Woodward is a trek I have made more times than I can count since I moved
away 30 some years ago. I visited my mom and dad on a somewhat regular basis, but during the two years Scott and I were dating, I headed down highway 270 at least once a month. One of the interesting sites along the road is this pasture with multiple cars parked out by the highway. For some reason, I always notice these cars as they mark the spot where I am about 7 miles from home. These cars have been parked here for years. Really, I’ve glanced at these cars as I drove by for as long as I can remember. I’ve never seen anyone stop and look at them as if they might want to purchase them. I’ve never seen a sign marking the price or a price reduction. They are just sitting there waiting to be purchased.
As we have been trying to sell our house, it is very clear that a house or any object is only worth what someone is willing to pay. It doesn’t really matter what you paid for it originally, how much you have spent on improvements, or how much the house next door sold for. What really matters is the amount a buyer is willing to pay at the time you want to sell. Clearly, no one is willing to pay for these vehicles what the buyer is asking. I don’t even know if there is an engine in either one of them. If the farmer that lives here wants to move these cars out of his field, he is going to have to lower the price to what someone is willing to pay.
I must admit there have been times in my life where I felt like these cars. I felt what I had to offer was not of value to anyone or worthy enough to be desired. These feelings have popped up at different times in my life. First as a young mother who had no idea what I was doing. I was convinced that all other mothers were much more equipped for the job than I was. I identified so many mistakes in my parenting skills, I couldn’t see any value in myself. There have been other times when I tried to judge my value based on what I saw in the mirror. All I could see were the faults that lowered my value in my mind. There is no good that can come from those thoughts. I also battle with the misconception that I can somehow increase my value by the possessions I own. The thought that a designer purse will make be a better person is nothing but a lie.
A low point in my value meter came at a time in my career when I faced on a daily basis criticism and rejection. I truly began to believe I was inept and unqualified for the position I held. Fortunately, during these times, either through scripture or through friends who encouraged me and lifted me up, I was able to regain my confidence and realize I was beautifully and wonderfully made.
As I was writing this, I pulled out my journal to find the scriptures I leaned on during these times. I wanted to share just a few with you.
Proverbs 16:3, “Commit your works to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established.” Put it in God’s hands and then our thoughts can be free from worry – Angela’s version (AV)
Isaiah 41:10, “Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Okay, God is talking to the Israelites, but He is the same God today as He was yesterday. I don’t have to be afraid and worry. He will take care of me. – AV
Psalm 56:4 “In God I have put my trust, I will not fear. What can mere mortals do to me?” My value comes from God not man. My trust is in Him, not those around me – AV
Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen.” Whether I feel like an inadequate mother, a humdrum dresser, or that I’m in over my head at work, God has placed me here for a purpose and that purpose is to carry out his plan. I am valuable because I have a plan to carryout. – AV
I want to wrap up with a point that contradicts Economics 101. Our value isn’t based on supply and demand, determined by what others desire or set through our own critical viewpoint. Our value is based on our creator and the price that was paid for our salvation. Like a piece of art, the value increases based on the quality of the artist. We were created in the image of God by the creator of the universe for a specific purpose. How could we be anything but of the highest quality?

Last week there was the rare event where Scott and I had a quiet night at home. As we were sitting in the living room watching some basketball game, I began quizzing Scott with questions from a FB quiz. After finding out what annoys him most and what makes him proud, we began talking about our “love languages.” This is a conversation we had several times when dating and many times with our children as they were going through their marriage counseling. Our Love Languages are almost in direct conflict with each other. Scott enjoys quality time together while I enjoy acts of service. In other words, I want us to be doing something (working on my “to do” list) and Scott likes to just sit and visit. Scott is great about helping me and doing things for me. I’m still working on sitting still and just spending time together.
Every three months Scott and I make the trek to the El Reno Cemetery to change the flowers on Jeff’s grave. It is a routine we have down to an art. When we were there the first week in September changing the summer flowers out for the fall flowers, we noticed several new graves in the area. We were back again the first week in December changing out the fall flowers for the winter flowers. As part of our normal routine, we were checking out the new neighbors as many of them had headstones up by now. Anyway, the whole time we were there, an elderly man was puttering around at one of the newer graves. He was making the motions of rearranging the flowers on the grave, but really never moving anything. I couldn’t stand it any longer and had to go over and talk to him. It was clear as I approached and looked at the new headstone, he was standing at his wife’s grave. I began the conversation by asking if this was his first Christmas without her. I learned he celebrated their 49th anniversary in November with out her and many other first that
happen during the infamous year of first that happens after the death of a loved one. After we talked for several minutes, he asked me what I’m sure appeared to be the obvious questions, “is this your parent’s grave?” He was surprised to hear that it was my husband’s, but I pointed out Scott, who had been standing there the whole time. I said, “Look, God gave me a new one.” That created quite a laugh and then we were able to talk about living life after the loss of a loved one.
Last Tuesday was just one of those days. It started out in typical fashion. I was headed to work, thinking through my day when I noticed the display panel on my car read “no phone connected.” At the same time, I saw the perfect place to turn around. With breaks squealing, I whirled my car around and headed back home. I called Scott on my watch and began telling him all the places to start looking for my phone. The whole time I was giving him directions, I distinctly remembered putting my phone in my purse before I left. As Scott looked in all my usual phone forgetting spots, I then and only then thought to look in my purse. I was almost back to the house by now when what do you know? I had my phone with me the whole time. If I would have only stopped to think before I reacted and whipped my car around, I could have saved myself 15-20 minutes that morning.
Christmas letters and stuff them in the envelopes. There is a little more involved than it sounds. You have to adjust the print to match the outline of the stationery. As I thought I had everything lined up perfectly, I noticed one line began with “I went to Denver.” I couldn’t imagine why I would have typed such a statement. I did’t go to Denver by myself. I quickly, without thinking or reading the statement in context, changed the I to We and printed 87 copies of our Christmas letter. As I was stuffing envelopes, Scott picked up the letter and began reading it. He got a puzzled look on his face and read out loud. “Scott and we went to Denver???” See, the words Scott and were on the line above and I didn’t notice them. The sentence originally read Scott and I went to Denver, but I changed the I to we. I now faced the decision of whether to send out the letter with the terribly ugly mistake or head off to Hobby Lobby. Well, we ended up going to three Hobby Lobby’s that night to find enough of the right stationery that matched the cards. Again, if I would have taken only a brief second to read the entire sentence before I hastily made the change, I could have saved myself a couple of hours of grief.
The last two weeks have been a little crazy in my head. There have been times I wondered who was living up there because it couldn’t be me. I’m normally very rational and level headed. Strangely the week started out with a full out fit of self-pity. As I prayed one night, I literally made out a list of all the favors, sacrifices and jobs I was doing for others and asked God when someone was going to do something for me. Now, as I type this, it seems utterly ridiculous. But at that time, that night, it was real. I was spent and emotionally exhausted. First, I want to say, I am so thankful for a loving Lord who doesn’t mock the nonsense of such complaints, but instead wraps his arms around me and provides comfort.
It is the worst feeling ever. You are driving along, minding your own business, solving all the problems of the world, when all of a sudden you pass the deviously hidden black & white car. It is too late to slam on the brakes, you have already flown passed it. I always just try to play it cool as I watch in the mirror to see if the officer is going to pull out and follow me or let me continue on my journey. On this particular day, I was taking a different route home from work because I had been to a meeting in a nearby school district. I was fresh off the highway and didn’t realize how quickly the speed limit had decreased until I saw the lights flipping on as I passed by. There wasn’t even time to wonder if I was going to get to keep on driving. Now the question was what the damage was going to be. It is a whole new level of dread. I usually just take the approach of saying as little as possible and admitting my guilt with full apologizes as I await the news of ticket or warning. Today for some reason, I just started in with the excuses mixed in with apologizes: I don’t usually drive this road, I didn’t realize the speed limit had changed, I’m so sorry for not paying attention. After about a five minute chat that digressed from the number of children that lived close by to the fact I needed to go to Wal-Mart to get groceries for supper, I finally received the much anticipated news that I would only receive a warning.
A couple of weeks ago I made a comment to my mom that I thought I should go to the doctor to find out why I was so tired all of the time. In the wisdom that only moms have, she commented, “you could be tired because you never rest.” With that in mind, I decided to keep a log of what I did each day and how often I was able to sit down and let my mind and body just rest. Today is the first day I have sat down in our living room in three weeks. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not working myself to death. Half of what I am doing is fun and includes time spent with friends, but it isn’t restful. It isn’t quiet time.
Fist I have to tell you, by my definition, for a food item to be considered addictive it has to be a food you crave and drive across town to get such as french fries, a food you start and eat the entire bag before you realize it such as potato chips, or a food you store and hide places such as candy. I was trying to guess what items would be on the list and was pretty successful with the top 5, but it fell off from there. Included in the list were food items such as steak or eggs. Now, I get hungry for a steak every now and then so maybe it is addictive, but I can honestly say even though I like eggs, I have never stored them in my desk drawer or just kept eating them even though I wasn’t even hungry.
I am fortunate to not have very many scars, but that also means I don’t have very many exciting stories to go with them.