Articles by Lisa Mikitarian at Heartlight

Has It Passed?

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 00:00:00 -0500

Yesterday morning while I was working on a story, Sam ambled up to me.

"Has it passed?" I asked.

"No," he said, "Farrah Fawcett has."

"Oh!"

On any other Thursday, he wouldn't have been available to give me news updates, but on this one he was home. Just like he'd been home on Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday -- all the way back to the wee hours of Sunday (Father's Day), when he felt the first pangs of a passing kidney stone. Each time he groaned, I'd ask, "Do you think it's time?" Whenever he left the bathroom, "Has it passed?"

When Sam gave me the news, I couldn't help but think of Ryan O' Neil. Say what you want about their crazy, immoral relationship, but he cared for her and loved her for the two and a half years of her battle with cancer. That's somewhat longer than the five days I was experiencing. I love Sam dearly, but there were a couple of times I had to remind myself: "In sickness and in health."

Later, while I stirred shredded beef for our quesadillas, Sam sidled next to me. "Has it passed?" I asked.

"No," he said, "Michael Jackson has."

"What? Really? How?" Before I became a child of God, I was a child of the 80's and a fan of moon-walking, "Thriller," and everything Michael.

But then, he changed, and so did I.

As Sam and I ate, I thought about Michael's rise and fall, but mostly I thought about the relationship he had had with his father -- a demanding man who could be abusive and cruel. Recently my own biological father had been on my mind -- not that I knew who he was. I had just followed the last lead I had been given before my mother died. It came up empty. Another dead end. The last one.

Perhaps, though, I had been more fortunate than Michael in not knowing who he was.

Say what you want about the immoral life Michael Jackson lived -- and there's a lot to talk about -- I can't help but feel compassion for the lost boy he was. I've not seen evidence he ever truly found his heavenly Father, and I think to myself, "There but for the grace of God go I."

At nine in the evening, while I was watching clips of Farrah and Michael on TV, Sam came into the family room holding the strainer the doctor had given him. I raised my eyebrows, "Well?"

"Yes," he said, "it has passed."

And so shall everything under the sun -- including cancer, abusive or non-existent fathers, immorality, and even kidney stones. The best we can do is to live our lives to the glory of God, pointing the way through Jesus Christ, and praying for the lost souls in our lives.

For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will -- to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves (Ephesians 1:4-6 TNIV).

Lisa is a Christian, a wife and a mother of three. Lisa shares, "I know how my story began and Christ divulged the ending, so now I'm concentrating on developing the middle. May the setting, characterization and plot twists all work to His glory." You can email Lisa using this link!

Winter Gardening

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 00:00:00 -0600

A temperate day in the middle of winter beckoned. I ventured outside with only a light sweater -- no gardening gloves. The sky was clear above me as I moved along our deck to the flower pots that just a few months ago had held vivid, flowering geraniums, and begonias, and petunias. Now only the skeletons stood, the remnants -- brown and brittle.

I pulled one dead geranium from a terra cotta pot and then another. I ended up clearing all the pots -- not really having intended to, but I liked the results and so moved to the planter boxes surrounding the back deck. Then I went to the shed and picked the hoe and the pruners off the wall and on my way back to the beds, trimmed back the indigo and oregano in the miniature herb garden. By the time I was done with all the pots, beds, and boxes, my hamstrings were tight and my fingernails were dirty, but what a sense of satisfaction.

The tilled dirt looked dark and rich and ready for spring planting. Some years this chore doesn't get done until the moment I'm ready to replant in April. When this happens, there's no period of time that could be called, "ready and waiting." What a shame because there is something beautiful in "ready and waiting." There's something beautiful about clearing out the clutter -- the ugly stuff, the stuff that isn't serving a purpose -- and being left with what is clean and ready and waiting. We may have less, but here's a great example of when "less is more."

While I was admiring my debris-free planter boxes, the evergreens suddenly became noticeable. These plants, while not "showy" in the petunia sense, maintain their color in spite of seasonal changes around them. "I want to be an evergreen," I thought, looking at my dwarf fir, "steady and lovely no matter the circumstances swirling around me."

I also noticed how just one evergreen, whether a boxwood or a juniper or a fir, kept an entire planter box from looking barren. This was God's reminder that it doesn't take much for life to be pleasing and winsome, even joyful. It just takes something of lasting value to be our focus.

And what is of ultimate lasting value? The Ever-Loving, Ever-Gracious, Ever-Faithful Savior planted in a ready and waiting heart -- more than evergreen, He is Everlasting.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom (Isaiah 40:30 TNIV).

Winter gardening has its perks.

Family Connection

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 00:00:00 -0600

When the hour had come, He sat down, and the twelve apostles with Him. Then He said to them, "With fervent desire I have desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I say to you, I will no longer eat of it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God" (Luke 22:14-16 NKJV).

Last year, the Thanksgiving I envisioned didn't happen. I thought our family in Virginia would be joining the rest of the family in North Carolina and we would celebrate the many blessings we have been given gathered around an assortment of creatively arranged tables.

The first crimp in my plan came a week before the big day, when my oldest daughter, Maddie, told us she wouldn't be able to join us because of work. This would be the first Thanksgiving in her twenty-year existence we would be apart. I tried not to whine. I told myself I would be the conduit for hugs and kisses and "I love yous" between Maddie and the extended family.

(It's likely in the next few paragraphs that the family connections will become confusing. Don't worry about trying to sort who belongs where -- it's not really important.)

We regrouped and our smaller family unit made the southward trek. Thanksgiving morning barely dawned before my mother-in-law (and chief chef, I might add) called to say a bug of some sort had squashed her. We should pick up the food and make dinner at my brother-in-law's house.

We sent her our get-well wishes, retrieved the food, and reassigned cooking tasks, determined to gather. But it was not to be -- for some of us. The aunt of my sister-in law, Tara, called to say Tara's 91-year-old grandmother, "Nan," had been taken to an Intensive Care Unit. She had serious stomach pain. This branch of Tara's family lives three hours away in South Carolina. Tara hated to bail on everyone, but she had to go. My husband Sam said I should go with Tara so she wasn't alone on the road on Thanksgiving Day.

That left no adult females to do any cooking. The men said they would manage.

So on Thanksgiving Day, I found myself traveling away from my family to a hospital toward people I didn't know. While we traveled south, Tara's Aunt Debbie called to invite us to "Somebodys'" house for the holiday meal. I felt hesitant. Tara didn't really know the "Somebodys." We visited Nan who was weak but stable. She was incredibly happy and thankful to see Tara (and even me who she had never met). I was so glad we made the trip.

Afterwards Tara and I and our growing appetites tossed aside our hesitations and agreed to join Debbie and her husband, Gary, for the Thanksgiving meal. They picked us up from the hospital and riding to who knows where, I had to smile thinking of a quip that had come to my mind: "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." I wouldn't be feasting with my family, but instead with my sister-in-law's aunt's daughter's husband's parents and their family and friends.

It wasn't until we were seated around the table (I'm slow sometimes) giving thanks and breaking bread that it hit me -- they are my family. We are connected not only through Tara, but more importantly through Christ and the acceptance of His sacrifice.

One day we will know what it really means to celebrate as Christ's family. We will gather around the table and take part in the breaking of the bread with Him and we will all feel at home. We won't have to "skooch" tables together or worry about intruding or about who's working or who is ill. It will be perfect.

As for this past holiday, I place it in my "most memorable times" file I keep in my heart. I thank Patty and Norm, the "Somebodies" for the hospitality and friendliness they and their family extended to me. I send fifteen-month-old Charlie a big "monster face."

You may be asking: what happened with the meal in North Carolina? The men made the women look obsolete. Hmmm. This I must ponder.

The Coriolis Effect on the Heart

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 00:00:00 -0500

The effect of the Coriolis force is an apparent deflection of the path of an object moving within a rotating coordinate system. The object does not actually deviate from its path, but it appears to do so because of the motion of the coordinate system. (Image and quote from Wikepedia).

In a world, among various "coordinate systems" of nuclear families, extended families, church families, work families, and club families; we are jostled, at times deflected in directions we never imagined.

I enjoy listening to young people dream of what life will bring them and what they will bring to it. I resist the temptation to inject reality. Youth is the season for innocent dreaming. Will there be both sunshine and rain? Sure. The unexpected? Of course! For some with a rough beginning, life may be better than they hoped or expected.

The chances are that whether we've "over-estimated" or "under-estimated," we have a better chance of winning the lottery than we did of plotting the courses of our lives. Following Christ, we know the ending, but isn't the journey to that end a continual surprise? In the midst of the reaping and the sowing, cause and effect, there dwells the unexpected.

Periodically, we ponder: Where am I? How did I angle off the set path?

What an experience it would be to see an aerial view of the orbit of our earthly existences, the way our omniscient Father does. "There's my child, Lisa," I imagine him saying. He's pointing to a solitary figure, wandering through a house, wondering where her children are and how the season of hands-on-mothering passed so quickly. "She may not know what's next," He says, "but I do."

There is an element of the human spirit longing to know: Where is my place? Where am I going? Pondering these philosophical questions can be so unproductive in the worldly sense. If you believed that God did not exist, wouldn't you think natural selection would have weeded out the desire to know a millennium ago? Yet the desire remains.

Conversely, in the spiritual sense, how productive the longing is. It leads to the Creator - the One with the answers, the One with the gravitational pull. In passive moments, I feel His tugging on me, and I give in to the joy of being led. Other times, I pull back; I don't want to go that way. Give me a different direction, or a whole new course, one that looks easier, or feeds my worldly desires. Isn't that just like a human being? Ask, ask, ask and then not find satisfaction in the answer?

But the heart of it is this: with Christ at the center, even if life feels off, as if I've just stepped from a spinning merry-go-round, my path is sure.

My path: understanding it, agreeing with it, loving it, fearing it -- all possible, yet hopefully subordinate to peace. Perhaps, I took the very long, and very hard way around the barn, perhaps not. It doesn't matter. He knows where I am; it's where I should be, even if it wasn't what I envisioned in my youth. It's all mapped out, my sanctification to His glory.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

God on eBay?

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0500

Of course, God is everywhere. I shouldn't feel wonder finding Him there. In fact, everywhere I go, I should seek Him.

On this day, what I was seeking, though, was shoes. With the high gas prices added to living far from civilization -- 30 miles to the nearest shopping -- I've learned to buy on-line. Of course it's not as if someone had to twist my arm. The world has become an oyster at my fingertips -- Bah-ha-ha-ha! Sorry, I don't know where that came from.

Anyway, when it was time to buy new Size 10, Ladies, New Balance Running Shoes -- all-terrain, preferably -- I went to eBay, where I knew I would spend less. I found them, bid on them, and won them. Woo hoo.

About a week later, on that particularly clear spring morning, the UPS man delivered my package. I opened it and was surprised to see, along side my shoes, a small item wrapped in pastel pink tissue paper with fuchsia ribbon. I unwrapped it to find a tube of perfume-scented hand lotion, which I promptly applied. I would thank the sender later.

I went through the rest of the morning with a cheerful spirit, thinking about my mom who had died many years ago. She stayed at my side into the afternoon of that beautiful day before it dawned on me why I was thinking of her. She used to send me small wrapped surprises in the mail.

As soon as I made the connection, I went to the computer and logged onto eBay and found the sender's address and wrote her a note to thank her for the kindness of that small gift which had brought me such joy. Minutes later "Kira" replied that she too had lost her mother and that her mother also used to send her small gifts by mail. She added that my writing to thank her had really blessed her day.

Blessed? Added to the tone of the email and the gesture of the gift—could it be?

A couple more emails back and forth and we ascertained, indeed, we were sisters in the family of Christ -- sisters who had blessed one another's day. Kira wrote she sends a small gift with everything she sells as a way of saying thank you and periodically she receives a response and of those responses, sometimes she meets a member of her Christian family.

What a beautiful testimony. It made me wonder if I send out "calling cards" in my interactions with strangers, signs that those who "know the secret handshake" would pick up on. Taking it further, do I send out "touches of God" others could feel whether they personally knew their Savior or not? Touches that might lead the way to Him?

God on eBay?

Of course, God is everywhere. I shouldn't feel wonder finding Him anywhere. Everywhere I go, I should seek Him and every place I visit, I should reveal Him through loving words and kind gestures.

Let your conversation be gracious and effective so that you will have the right answer for everyone (Colossians 4:6 NLT).

Companion Runner

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0500

I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free (Psalm 119:32 NIV).

Ultra marathons are grueling races. They stretch anywhere from 35 to 100 miles, cover all manner of terrain, and can take 24 hours to complete. It would be easy for a runner to lose his way, his motivation or his judgment somewhere along the arduous course. Because of this, they practice what is called "companion running." This is where the runner of the race -- the main runner -- chooses companions to run specific segments -- usually five miles -- of his race with him. Companion runners keep him on track, because they're trained and fresh and possess clear judgment with which to guide the Main Runner.

"Companion" comes from Latin and it means "somebody who shares bread." We usually break bread with people we trust. "Companion" also means "someone who accompanies or shares time with another." In astronomy, the companion star is the fainter of two that make up a double star -- similar in concept to the companion runner.

I look at life like an ultra marathon. We each have our own rigorous race, our own hurdles that God has set before us and problems the evil one puts in our path. I am running my race and you are running yours. Actually, I'm married, and I consider myself to be running a three-legged race. But the important thing is our courses run parallel to one another, and at some points we all need the help of someone who is honest and reliable and willing to put our needs first as they come up along side us to guide us in our weak and weary state.

The question I asked myself today was: What kind of Companion Runner am I?

Do I even have time to participate in someone else's race or have I filled my own with too many obstacles? Am I always a Main Runner and never the Companion?

Am I trained for the task? What provisions do I have to offer?

Can I discern what my runner needs? Maybe my only purpose is to listen to her cry that her feet feel like hamburger, or her knees feel like mush. Maybe my purpose is to give her counsel.

And that leads me to a critical question:

Have I learned enough about the mind of God so I can give my Main Runner solid counsel? I want my presence to be a benefit to her, not a liability. And, I don't want to be a liability to myself either!

You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth? That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you. "A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough." I am confident in the Lord that you will take no other view. The one who is throwing you into confusion will pay the penalty, whoever he may be (Galatians 5:7-10 NIV).

I do not want to be "the one" in that last verse who is throwing anyone into confusion, so I had better have God's word tucked into my heart and head, and have it ready to use when needed and I had better carry the Bible in my race sack for quick reference. I don't want my runner or me to pay the penalty for suggesting the cliff she is nearing isn't treacherous or that she should skip the next water station to shave 30 seconds off her time.

God created us in community to fellowship with one another and to support one another while on our earthly course and to glorify Him in all we do. And He, in turn, provided the Ultimate companion runner for each of us through Jesus Christ. When I am in close fellowship with Him, I am better equipped to serve in whatever capacity I am called to on any particular day.

Jess, to His Friends

miks@shentel.net (Lisa Mikitarian) — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0500

"The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body -- whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free -- and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Now the body is not made up of one part but of many" (1 Corinthians 12:12-14 NIV).

My husband gave me the priceless (no matter what he says) gift of a laptop. No more going to the frigid basement to word process. Now in the halcyon of my post-desktop computer days, I'm snuggled on the couch with a blanket, coffee and thoughts. Ah, the bliss.

Imagine my annoyance when the letter U on my keyboard began sticking. I found myself writing emails such as:

Dear Sam, My Generos Hsband,

What's p with yo?

Yor Faithfl Wife,

Lisa

I circumvented the annoyance by relying on the spell checker. After all, "U" is the least used regular vowel, so the changes were minimal. This worked well until I received an email from a friend who asked, "Who's Jess Christ?" Apparently, I had sent out an email in His name -- to a lot of people. The letter "U" may not be seen as often as an "A" or an "I," but its absence proved embarrassing, just as the absence of a smaller article of clothing might prove embarrassing under a certain set of circumstances.

It's easy to overlook components that don't have an outwardly readily recognizable role. It's easy to overlook parts that serve with understatement. But in the body of letters, every "J," "V," and "U" has its place and does its job just as every toe, elbow, and Achilles heel has its place and does its job in the body of Christ.

We can't all be ministry staff and worship leaders -- for one thing, some of us can't sing. Yet there are many beautiful and vital parts of the body. The hands that prepare food for the sick or gather clothes for the homeless are lovely. The faithful men who provide for their families by persevering in jobs they wouldn't choose if given a choice are men of godly character. The faithful women who find themselves in circumstances they never could have imagined, but nonetheless, remain obedient to the Father are women of godly character. It takes a variety of Christians to build a strong, universal church body -- one that reflects the glory and grace of Jesus Christ.

So here is a salUte to "U" -- for each of Us who has the seemingly minuscUle, bUt absolUtely crUcial role of illUminating the trUth and love of JesUs Christ jUst by living obedient and beaUtifUl lives and commUnicating His love and trUth to every hUman being we encoUnter.

The sticky "U" situation also reminded me not to rely upon the unreliable, over-lauded spell-checkers and other devices of man. In the future, I'll stick to "Jess" alone.