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“Home is where the heart is.”  Pliny the Elder

This past month, my sisters and I sold our Mama’s house in our hometown. She and my Daddy built it in 1947, lived in it all their married life, and added on for each of our wedding receptions! They raised us three girls there, entertained family there, celebrated holidays there, had wedding receptions there, met son in laws there, greeted new grandchildren there, had their 50th anniversary party there, and gathered there for funerals of loved ones.  It was a happy place because my Mama made it a home.  She filled it with things and people that she loved.  A part of my heart will always be there!

As we drove away, I was reminded of the many times we are all called upon to take a structure like a house and make it into a home for our family.  Randy and I were so fortunate to only move six times in our married life, but to someone who had never moved, it was six times too many.  Five of those times were to different parsonages in the North Georgia conference.

A parsonage is defined as “a house provided by the church for use by its pastor.”  There are different parsonages, and I must say that we had some of the worst and some of the best.  I had no idea that when you moved into a parsonage, you not only live in a home which is not yours, but also one over which you have no control.  In those days, a committee decided what you hung on the wall, what furniture you had, provided your mattress, and decorated for you whether you liked it or not!  The decor was usually a hodgepodge of whatever the members did not want in their own homes.   You took what was provided, and you made this house your home.

Our first parsonage was pre civil war – quaint on the outside but falling apart on the inside. Sherman spared this house on his march through Georgia, but I can’t for the life of me understand why! The house had huge rooms with high ceilings, and the kitchen and bathroom had been added to the back of the house for functionality with no thought of appearance! The house had space heaters, no AC (which was standard in parsonages), huge cracks around the windows, no washer, dryer, or dishwasher, a hole in the chimney (which was the only additional source of heat) big enough for a man to stand and walk through, and a sink that fell in on our first month there. I was struggling to make this house our home.  What is a preacher’s wife to do?

The morning the sink fell in with dishes in it, this preacher’s wife marched right past the preacher into the bedroom and began to pack!  I remember saying as Randy asked what was wrong, “The sink just fell in! I am going to my Mama’s, taking Rob, and when you move – call me!” When I looked around, Randy was helping me pack as he talked!   He said, “Well, it’s a shame you are going to miss the Parsonage Committee dinner party we are hosting next week.  I wanted them to see the house, so they are coming over.”  I stopped mortified and said, “But, we don’t even have a sink!”  “Yep,” Randy said, “let’s add that to the list.”

I stayed and we got to work.  We entertained the six women and two men committee members on a very eventful evening!  They were very sweet and horrified at the condition of the house.  It seems none of them had ever been invited over to the parsonage before. As God would have it, one of the men owned a construction company, one of the ladies had a connection at the Mart, and yet another sold carpet.  In the next month, we got new carpet, central heating (not air), furniture, washer and dryer, and a new sink!!  The dishwasher was pushing it! With their blessing, I added our touches to the house, we filled it with love, friends, and laughter, and suddenly one day it was our home!

A house is just a house, but making a home is the important thing.

(The picture is my Mama’s house, not our parsonage!!)

“He is not here, for He is risen as He said.”  Luke 24:5

In the beginning of our ministry, Randy began to order and distribute pocket crosses for the members of our congregation and so many others with whom he came in contact.  We got in the habit of carrying one all the time and placing them in the hands of people who were in need of assurance or just an act of love.

The vertical beam of the cross symbolizes God reaching down to us through Jesus with his love, mercy and grace.  The horizontal beam symbolizes God’s people as we reach out to others with that same love, mercy and grace.  I have never known anyone who didn’t appreciate the symbolism, and there are many who still have those crosses today.

In olden times, the cross simply meant death, but Jesus triumphed over the grave and rose to eternal life.  This year as I stand by the graves of my loved ones who have died, I remember that they are not there, but they have risen to live on high with Jesus.  The grave is empty!  He has risen and reigns on high!

“O death where is thy sting?  O grave where is thy victory?”       Corinthians 15:55

“I carry a cross in my pocket, a simple reminder to me;  of the fact that I am a Christian no matter where I may be.  When I put my hand in my pocket to bring out a coin or a key; the cross is there to remind me of the price He paid for me.  It reminds me too, to be thankful for my blessings day by day; and to strive to serve Him better in all that I do and say.  So, I carry a cross in my pocket reminding no one but me, that Jesus Christ is Lord of my life if only I’ll let Him be.”

“Be more concerned with your character than your reputation because your character is what you really are while your reputation is merely what people think you are.”  John Wooden

It’s always interesting how people perceive others.  Randy and I had an occasion in our early ministry where “reputation” preceded “character.” We were in Dalton when an across the street neighbor took an immediate dislike to our German Shepherd, Chief.  Jack never took the time to know us or talk about it, he just acted on his feelings. The day he called our house to tell us that he would shoot our dog if he was ever outside, was the day we called one of our best lawyer friends, Billy, and told him our story.  Now, Billy just happened to know Jack and made it his business to have lunch with him one day after our call.  As Billy guided the conversation toward neighbors, Jack told him that his neighbors had a big dog that he disliked. One thing led to another and Billy astutely asked the name of the neighbors.  When Jack said Randy Mickler, Billy feigned horror and said, “Oh, no, I’ve heard of him. His nickname is Mad Dog Mickler – you better be careful!  You don’t want to mess with him!”  Jack called us the next day to apologize.  He let someone taint his opinion because he didn’t know our character only the reputation of which he had heard.

On the surface, Christ had the reputation of a healer, miracle worker, exorcist, and teacher.  Only if you take the time to know His character would you see that he had so much more!  I read it put beautifully, Christ had tenderness without weakness, humility without uncertainty, power without insensitivity, integrity without rigidity, passion without prejudice, and boldness without harshness.  He insisted on truth but showed love, mercy and forgiveness. He exhibited confidence, He was convicted, and He was approachable.

When he rode into Jerusalem on that Palm Sunday, many of those who praised Him only knew him by reputation.  The ones who stayed by His side during the next week knew His character.

As we approach Palm Sunday, I want to know all about the character.

As a footnote to our story, Billy is now a judge, and Jack set fire to his own house to collect insurance.  Chief lived a long and happy life.  It’s all about character!

“If I take care of my character, my reputation will take care of me.”  Dwight L. Moody

“Whether you believe in miracles or not, I can guarantee that you will experience one.  It may not be the one you’ve prayed for, but a miracle none the less.”  Ordinary Grace

Randy and I were blessed to have next door neighbors in Newborn that literally saved our lives in so many ways!  Miss Margaret and Mr. C.A. were an older (eek 70’s) couple who were so happy to have the new minister and his family live next to them!    They fed us from Mr. C.A.’s garden, babysat when we needed a grandmama, taught us to garden, brought us left overs, had coffee with us in the mornings, and kept us up on all the gossip and the connections in the community.

In the summer of 1977, there appeared one day a letter from the IRS which informed us that we owed the government $157.45 (I remember the amount to this day), due before the end of the year.  We made less than $9000 a year, so the amount owed might as well have been a million.

As God would have it, a former CPA, Stoney, lived across the street.  We crunched numbers every way possible, but because I had withdrawn my teacher retirement, we owed the $157.45.

Summer became fall and still no way to get the money.  One afternoon as we were sitting in our back yard worried and deciding which one of us would go to jail, our friend, Sammy, who lived behind us walked over.  As he walked, you could hear pecans crackling under his feet from the pecan trees which filled our back yard.  Those things had become such an annoyance to us, but suddenly that annoyance had the potential to be a blessing!

In that moment, we both looked up at those pecan trees, and it was as if God had sent us a miracle!  Mr. C.A. confirmed that we could get money for selling pecans!  Miss Margaret and Sammy volunteered to help, we got grocery sacks, and went to work!  We even had Rob out there with a bag.  I don’t remember how many bags we loaded into Mr. C.A.’s truck that day, but I know that when Randy came home, he was smiling and waving crisp $10 bills!  Sixteen ten dollar bills to be exact!  Just like manna from heaven we had all we needed!  We paid taxes and had a couple of dollars for a treat!

Miracles happen every day.  They don’t have to be large ones, they can just be ordinary ones.  I thank God for all kinds of miracles!!

“What is impossible with man is possible with God.”  Luke 18:27

“I never looked at the consequences of missing a big shot…when you think about the consequences, you always think of a negative result.”  Michael Jordan

During this season of basketball and anticipation of the Final Four, my mind wanders back to years ago. Our family had the privilege of living across the street from a family in Calhoun, who were and still are our close friends.  The family had two boys, William and Palmer, who, when added to our children, were stair steps in age. Rob and these boys were all into sports, and they were forever playing whatever sport was in season. Ashley and her friends were always the cheerleaders.  I always loved watching and listening to them play basketball using the goal mounted on the garage at the parsonage in Calhoun.

Their favorite game was “last shot”.  In this game, someone would count down from ten thus putting pressure on the one with the ball to take the last shot before the buzzer sounded.  It was a life lesson – although to them it was just fun!

First, it taught them a cool head under pressure.  I watched each one of these boys in game situations, and although they didn’t score each time, they were always the one the coach wanted to have the ball in a clutch situation.  I hope we will all be deserving of that honor when we are called upon to defend our faith and beliefs.

Next, it gave them confidence.  They never let negative results impact them because they knew they had done their best.  As long as we know we have done our best in life, we can have the confidence to make a difference for others.

Lastly, it gave them a love of the game, a competitive spirit, and an understanding of winning and losing, which endures to this day. I see the same love in Drew.  When I see him play the game, I know his daddy has taught him “last shot”.  It is true that “in life you often get what you expect” (Michael Hyatt).  Those boys always expected to make that shot, and more often than not, they did!  In life, we need to love each day and expect only the best from our Lord and Savior.

As Shaq would say, “One lucky shot deserves another.”

Just as a footnote, I am picking UNC!

“None is righteous (perfect), no not one.”  Romans 3:10

“The reality is that the only way change comes is when you lead by example.”  Anne Wojicki

Perfect is defined has “having no flaws.”  My Mama was blessed with a beautiful voice and along with that, she also had perfect pitch.  Perfect pitch is defined as “the ability to identify a musical tone without hearing the pitch as an external reference.”  So, in words I can understand, Mama could look at a sheet of music and without any musical instrument to give her the pitch, she could sing it flawlessly. I am afraid that I didn’t inherit this gift, but I do admire those others I know who possess it.

Possessing this gift can be both a blessing and a curse!  I can’t even imagine sitting next to people in the choir or anywhere else who have no idea about musical notes or tone and resisting the urge to lean away or plug your ears because you hear every mistake they make!  (I know about that because Randy sings one note, and he sings it badly).  Instead, Mama always led by example.  I saw this firsthand because I sat by her in the choir for years.  She never corrected me or anyone else, nor did she sing in their ear, but she was there, next to you, if you chose to follow her.  I know many other people who also lead by example.

As we prepare our hearts and minds during these 40 days of Lent, it is good for me to remember that Jesus came to give us the example of how we should live.  He never pushed, threatened, or  berated the people to whom he ministered. He just showed them (us) the way God would have us to live.  He modeled dependence on the Holy Spirit, submission to God in all things, servanthood, service, leadership, teaching, love, forgiveness, faith, hope, mentoring, and gentleness.

He was the perfect example which we should follow each day.  We have all sinned and fallen short, but it is good to know that when we stumble, no one among us is perfect!  God doesn’t measure us by our perfection, but by our love for Jesus.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine.”  Isaiah 43:1

I have always had problems with my name because my parents called me by my middle name instead of my first. That was never a problem in my tiny town because everyone knew my name was Diane. I’ve had other nicknames  – my Daddy called me “Pal”, my Mama called me “Sugar”, my cousins call me “Di”, Randy calls me “honey” most of the time, to my children, I am “Mom”, and to my grands, I am “DeDe”.   During my first year at Georgia, I had to become accustomed to answering to my first name, Susan.  It was tricky at first, but I adjusted.

I thought I was pretty good at it until I became Randy’s wife, (Mickler is a challenge to pronounce), and on top of that, a minister’s wife!  During our first two associate appointments, my name was not really that important – after all we were just that – associates.  I liked not having attention called to my name, but things really changed for me when we moved to the Newborn/Starrsville charge, my first “first lady” event.

People here loved and respected their minister, and they looked upon us as a sort of “holy family” if you will.  They had no problem calling Randy by his name, but they seemed to want to endow me with names of their choosing.  I learned to answer to, “Mrs. Preacher,”  “Randy’s wife,” “our Minister’s wife,” and  “Mrs. Mikeler”.  I always loved introductions because people would say, “Please meet Randy, our minister, and his wife.”  It was then up to me to say, “Hi, I’m Diane.”  It really didn’t matter because they would call me whatever they chose.  Although I probably never would admit it, I found myself resenting it.

There was a special man in the Starrsville church whose name was Guy.  I sat in front of Guy every Sunday and every Sunday, he greeted me with “Mornin, Mrs. Preacher.”  I always called him by name and responded.  One Sunday, I was having a bad day, and when he said “Mornin’, Mrs. Preacher,” I turned on him.  “Guy,” I said, “I have been sitting in front of you for almost two years, don’t you think you could call me Diane?”  He looked stunned, but then he said, “Well, I could, but you never told me it was all right with you!”  What a huge assumption on my part, but a lesson learned.  From that day forward, I always said, “My name is Diane.  Please call me by name.”

I am so glad that God knows us by name, and that He doesn’t wait for us to tell Him that it is all right to use that name.  He uses our name as He blesses us, forgives us, and uses us.  Thank God for our names!

“In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes.”  John Ruskin

Randy and I had a very successful and eventful two years in Dalton during the years of 1974-76.  I watched with pride as Randy took over Sunday night services, started a Sunday School class, and became a spark plug for the church.  Through his efforts, a declining Sunday night service began to draw a huge crowd, youth attendance increased, and inactive folks began to return!  I was puffed up with pride!  In March of 1976, we welcomed Rob, our first born! Life was very good.

It was about this time that the District Superintendent came to Randy and told him that he needed him to step out and take his first “pastor in charge” appointment. That is a church of your own. I was devastated! How could I be expected to move away from all the joy and excitement we had built in Dalton?!  Surely after all the achievements should be rewarded?! However, these decisions and sentiments were not up to us or more accurately, me.

We were presented with the opportunity to serve a county seat church in a precious North Georgia town.  It wasn’t Dalton, but I reasoned that we could do this.  About three weeks before moving day, that appointment fell through because a minister with “more” experience got the job.  Instead, we were presented with our new appointment – a two church circuit with the parsonage located in the tiny community of Newborn.  How could God expect me to move with a three month old child to this uncharted place? What an injustice!

Reality is reality, so that very day, Randy and I drove over to the little community and stopped in front of a beautiful little white church which was at the end of a street and the first thing you saw as you turned the corner.  The next door neighbor, who we would come to know as Sam, walked over to us as we stood there looking. “Well,” he said, “you must be our new preacher. I’ve heard that God will be using you to bring our little church back to life! I knew you’d be coming by to see our community and church.  Welcome!”  He reached in his back pocket and brought out a pair of work gloves.  “I am here to put my gloves on and do whatever you need. Let’s get to work!  I can hardly wait to see what God has in store!”

In that moment, I knew that I had committed a terrible injustice.  I almost missed God’s grace for us and this little church because of pride.  I had let my pride get in the way of our calling.  I had forgotten that I am the glove, but God is the hand that fills it. Without Him, we can do nothing.

In June, we packed up our new baby, our few personal belongings, loaded our cars, and moved to Newborn to start helping fill the gloves with God’s hands.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, rather in humility value others above yourselves.”  Phillippians 2:3

“I don’t always know what I want, but I do know what I don’t want.”   Stanley Kubrick

Randy and I watched the movie “Hell or High Water” last week, and there was one scene which I loved because it made me laugh out loud.  The waitress played her part with such authenticity.  The lawmen in this scene, were in a restaurant and the waitress asked one question, “what don’t you want?” They were obviously confused, so she explained by saying, “This restaurant only serves steak and potato. That’s it. You can have squash or broccoli as a side – which one don’t you want?”

I started thinking about all the times I have thought I wanted something whether materialistic or spiritual.  I want a new outfit, I want a new car, I want a better prayer life, I want to know more about the Bible, but what don’t I want?

When I am with my grandkids, I hear those words, “I want” a lot.  Usually it has something to do with material things.  The only time I hear, “I don’t want” is when we suggest something with which they don’t agree such as early bedtimes or baths.

As we approach Ash Wednesday, I want to share  a list of things I “don’t want” in my life instead of things I want.  I “don’t want” fear, envy, impatience, bitterness, resentment, doubt, self pity, pride, worry, or guilt. I “don’t want” to ever feel the need to make excuses for myself.  I “don’t want” to be negative or compare myself to others.  I “don’t want” to ever feel unworthy as we are all wonderfully made.  I “don’t want” to give up on my dreams or to discourage those around me who are dreamers.  I “don’t want” to find myself unable to forgive those with whom I harbor bad feelings for something I feel they have done.  I “don’t want” to live a day without a smile or laughter.  I “don’t want” to forget to tell people that I love them and am grateful for them.  I “don’t want” to regret anything I might have said or done. I “don’t want” to let go of precious memories of people who are no longer here.  I “don’t want” to live without Jesus in my life.

As we enter this season of Lent, I “don’t want” this world to go another day without the knowledge of a risen Savior.  I’m giving up “wanting” this year for Lent and substituting things I “don’t” want.

“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.”  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Recently there were many trees cut down on Willeo Road next to our neighborhood to make room for a new Senior Living facility.  I love trees, and it saddened me to see them go!  I kept hoping they would spare the old oaks, but that wasn’t to be. These trees were lush and green on the outside and looked healthy with no visible signs of decay.  Once the wood was cut and stacked, I saw what I could not see from the outside -some of them were sick on the inside and thus dying from the inside out.

Experts say that other than the usual fungus, bugs, or bacteria, two things are mostly responsible for a tree’s decay.  The first is scars left by different ordeals during the years such as blunt force trauma or storms. The second is weak branch unions which means the branches aren’t securely attached to the tree trunk which is its source of life.

I’ve heard it said that you should “Never judge a book by its cover.”   People tend to put forward their best by showing others their “outside” self while inside they are dealing with scars. They are smiling on the outside while inside they are dying under the worry, disappointment, and fear in their lives.  I know several people who are dealing with scars, and when I see how hard they work to present a “happy” outside, it breaks my heart because I know the inside turmoil they face.

If branches need to be securely attached to the tree which gives it life, it makes sense to me that we need to be securely attached to our Heavenly Father who give us strength and enrichment for our lives.  It’s easy to think all is well when in fact, we are dying on the inside without the Father’s sweet touch and love.  We need to attach ourselves firmly and completely to the tree of life, Jesus Christ.  He can help us deal with the scars and keep the union strong.

“But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is life because of righteousness.”  Romans 8:10