Is Easter About Bunnies After All?

Hi Friends,

This Easter I wanted to share a little story about my bunny, Felicia, and what she taught me about God and his love. Enjoy ...

It’s Easter time, and I hold a tiny bunny against my shoulder. I feel her soft fur on my skin, her nose twitching. She wiggles and climbs higher until her cheek is pressed into mine, her face so close that she can smell my breath. She breathes in, relaxes. Her heart beats with mine. My eyes close. I think hers do too.

            And I know, somehow, this is a divine moment. There is beauty and wonder and the presence of God himself. 

            Because this is how God loves me.

            And I think that maybe, just maybe, Easter is about bunnies after all.

            I whisper in her ear and remember where she came from. She was found cold and shivering in a tiny burrow in someone’s backyard. A little baby bunny with a few lion-hairs sticking from between her big ears and mud obscuring her white-and-brown fur. She huddled abandoned and alone, much too young to be without her mother. But her mother was no where to be found. 

            She would have died there.

            But then, a hand reached into her burrow, a hand bigger than she was. She trembled, cowered to the far side of the dirt and rock. She almost bit the hand, almost drew blood. But fingers closed gently around her, and the hand brought her out of hiding and into the light. 

The hand rescued her. 

            And now, after a trip to the rabbit rescue center, to an adoption event at the pet store, and to my home, a hand holds her close. 

            She’s not alone anymore. She’s been adopted. She has all the food she wants, a safe place to live, a clean home, and much love. She no longer cowers in the back of burrows. She doesn’t need to be afraid. Instead, she’s growing, exploring, and breathing deeply from the breath of the one who loves her.

            And as I hold her close, I am reminded of what God has done for me, and the deepest yearnings of my heart. I, too, have been rescued, and now I long to be so close that I can smell the breath of God, feel his heartbeat, and soak in his love for me. 

            I, too, was alone. I was afraid. I would have died there in my burrow, in my sin. But then hands reached out; nailed hands reached out on a wooden cross. They found me, brought me into the light. I was rescued, cared for, adopted into the family of God.

            Ephesians 2:1, 4-7 (NIV) says, “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins... But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ ... And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that ... he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.”

            This Easter as I hold my baby bunny in my arms, her face close to mine, I think about Jesus, his arms stretched wide. I think of his blood shed for me. I think of my sin covering me like mud from a hovel and how that scarred hand came into my dark burrow and rescued me. I soak in the truth of how it brought me into the light, surrounded me with love, and now holds me close to his heart.

            This is what he died for, this is why he rose. 

            I am the Easter bunny, rescued, adopted, and held close to the beating heart, the warm breath, of the God who loves me enough to make me his own, no matter the cost.

            Now, when I see all the stuffed rabbits in the stores, the pictures of bunnies and baskets, the chocolates shaped like rabbits with long ears, I think of my baby bunny and I am reminded anew of the amazing love of the God who died and rose again to make me his own.

            I am reminded to climb up closer, nearer, and put my cheek on his, close my eyes, and breath deeply. 

            I am loved that much.

A Big Burning

Hi Friends,

As you may have heard, our shed for our equine therapy ministry to gang-impacted, foster, homeless, and other struggling kids at Wonder Wood Ranch somehow caught fire and burned down with most of our supplies in it.

We are trying to replace some of the most vital items through an Amazon wish list. HERE is the link. 

We are also hoping for some donations to help replace the shed, which can be made via PayPal, using the email address marlo@wonderwoodranch.com, or via cash or check (mail to: 8100 Wild Horse Rd, Salinas, CA 93907. Every little bit counts!

Meanwhile, here's a fun story about Horses on the Trail that will give you a little glimpse of the wonder of Ranch (and give some food for thought too) ...

Watch Out for Poison Oak!

by 

Marlo Schalesky

            I put my hands on my hips and looked out at the sea of grinning-kid faces sitting on the stacks of hay before me. Nearly thirty big, wide smiles met my gaze. I grinned back. A few van-loads of kids had come from the local low-income apartments to spend the afternoon riding, grooming, and experiencing horse-life for the first time. 

            “Who’s been on a horse before?” I asked.

            Three hands raised.

            My smile grew. It was going to be an interesting day.

            My daughters brought our horses from their pens as I reviewed basic safety tips. After the horses were saddled and ready, I pointed toward the narrow trail that winds through the trees around our property. “Okay, this is the important part. When it’s your turn, stay on the trail!”

            A boy raised his hand in the back of the group. “Why?”

            “If you don’t, guess what will get you?”

            “Wolves?”

            “Zombies?”

            “Monsters?”

            “Snakes?”

            I raised my eyebrows. “Worse! Poison oak!”

            “Oooooh.” Their eyes widened.  

            A tiny girl tugged on the edge of my shirt. “What’s poison oak?”

            I squatted beside her. “It’s a plant that looks like other plants, but it’s not like other plants at all. See all those nice red and green leaves growing on either side of the path?”

            She nodded.

            “That’s poison oak. It looks pretty, but if you rub against it you’ll get a nasty red, itchy rash. It’s awful.”

            She wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t want that.”

            “Nobody wants that. That’s why we stay on the path.”

            In the hours that followed, I led a string of horses around and around the trail. Two loops around, and kids would dismount to allow the next group to ride. Each time, we talked about poison oak. Each time, the kids kept their horses on the path. Until about two hours in.

            I heard a yelp behind me. “Help! Smokey’s going off the trail!” Sure enough, the gelding had spotted a patch of green and was heading right toward it. I ran back and grabbed his bridle, just as he reach a bush of shiny, poison leaves. I hauled him back to the safe path and walked beside him until he stayed the course.

            Two rounds later, I heard another yelp. This time, Valentine headed off the path, back toward the barn. After two and a half hours, she was tired. She wanted to be done. done. We brought her back to her spot and encouraged her to keep walking. 

            Later that night as I thought back to the adventures of the day, I was reminded that we can stay out of the poisonous places in life if we just let God lead us on the proper path, let him dictate the boundaries and where we ought to walk. We must stay on the path God has for us. Otherwise, poison thoughts, poison actions, poison problems will rub up against us to make ugly, itchy rashes on our relationships, our work, and our witness. 

            Sometimes there are green and red, shiny leaves tempting us off the path. They look pretty. We want to take a closer look. But they’re poison.

            Sometimes, like Smokey, we get hungry for things that are not for us and we veer off course. When that happens, it’s good to have God and wise friends to bring us back to the trail. And it’s good to allow them to walk beside us to help us stay the course.

            Sometimes, like Valentine, we just get tired and want to take a shortcut back to the barn. We want to be done. In those times, God says to us, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9, NIV) 

            As I sat, soaking my feet that night, I thought about the joy we find when we trust God to lead us where we need to go. The path may be long, we may get tired and hungry, discouraged and disappointed. But God knows there’s poison off the path. He says to us, “...ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Jeremiah 6:16, NIV)

            Rest, not rashes. And maybe a good, epson salt soak for feet sore from the journey. That sounds good to me!

Mission Trip to Refugee Kids in Uganda

Friends & Family,

Do you have a special place in your heart for orphans, widows, and refugees? An amazing opportunity has come my way, and I’m hoping you’ll be a part of it. This summer I have been invited to join a short-term missions team from Salinas Valley Community Church going to the South Sudanese refugee camps in northern Uganda. Because of South Sudan’s violent civil war, thousands of people have fled and are now living in numerous camps just inside Uganda. These people, most of whom are widows and children (including many, many orphans), have lost everything they valued – their homes, family and friends, and their country. Our presence with them is a source of encouragement and hope as we partner with local missionaries who are daily helping those who have been exiled and are living in these camps scattered over the northern part of Uganda.

Why me?As you know, I’m passionate about bringing hope and wonder to the kids who need it most – who have suffered trauma, been displaced, have lost family and feel alone. This opportunity will allow me to do that in a unique way to refugee kids in Africa. How awesome is that?!?!

How will it happen?I will be part of the small team (3 of us from the larger team) who will be setting up children’s programs in the camps. These programs will be run while we’re there, but are also devised to continue to long after the team is gone. Currently, there’s very little specifically for kids in the camps. Our help in getting the programs started will allow the local missionaries to continue bringing hope and care to kids throughout the year and beyond.

When is it happening?We’ll be leaving the U.S. on Sunday, June 30 and returning two weeks later. We fly to Amsterdam, then to Entebbe in southern Uganda, then take a small plane to the camps in northern Uganda. Then we’ll be travelling from camp to camp by car. 

How Can You Help?Please pray for our trip! And if you’re able, consider supporting me financially. I need to raise approximately $4,500 before June to make this trip happen. Donations are tax deductible. Here’s how you can donate: 

1) Write a checkto SVCC and put “Marlo Schalesky – Uganda” in the memo. Send the check to the church at 368 San Juan Grade Rd., Salinas, CA 93906, or send it to me at 8100 Wild Horse Rd., Salinas, CA 93907. 

2) Donate onlineor via textat http://www.svcc.net/give(again choose my name from the online giving drop down menu, or include it in the text if giving by text).

3) Use PayPal’s“send money to friends/family” feature using marlo@marloschalesky.com(no tax deduction) or marlo@wonderwoodranch.com(for a tax deduction).  Note that it’s for Uganda.

Thank you for considering partnering with me on this adventure to Africa! Just email me at marlo@marloschalesky.comif you have any questions or want to find out more.

Reaching for Wonder … in Uganda!

Marlo Schalesky

Glimpsing Glory in Grief

Hi Friends,

As many of you know, a dear friend of mine went to heaven this week. Rhena Agostini was an amazing woman and made a huge impact on my life, and in the lives of my family. As I was reminiscing about all she taught me over the years, I remembered this little story of when our pony, Oreo, died. Rhena was with us every step of the way through Oreo's sickness, and was there when our little pony died in our arms. I look back on that day now, and I remember the glimpse of glory. And I think, even now, I can glimpse that glory again as I think of my friend who loved well, lived well, and showered the love of Christ on me and everyone.

(The picture is of Oreo with Joelle and Rhena.)

Oreo's story went like this ...

Goodbye, Oreo

by Marlo Schalesky

When our vet glanced over the back of my daughter’s horse, Oreo, and said the dreaded word, “cancer,” I knew we were in for heartbreak.  What I didn’t know was that in our sorrow we would also get a glimpse of glory.  

            For over a month, we had struggled to discover what was causing Oreo’s decline.  Exams and blood tests revealed nothing.  Prayers for healing did nothing.  She continued to lose weight.  We continued to pray. 

But that day when the vet looked at me and shook his head, I knew my prayers had to change.  “Prepare your girls,” he said, knowing that to them, Oreo was more than just a horse. She was a friend, a companion, a family member.  

Later, I walked back into the house.  Our six-year-old, Joelle, met me at the door.  “What did he say?”

“I’m sorry, honey, Oreo has cancer.”

Her eyes dampened.  “Is she going to die?”

I nodded as words stuck in my throat, refusing to be voiced.  Oreo, our perfect little horse.  She’d taught Joelle to ride.  Joelle had taught her to jump.  They were a team, and Joelle loved her.

Tears streamed down my daughter’s face.  “But we prayed!  How come God didn’t make her better?  But I want, but she …”  She couldn’t go on.  Instead, she collapsed in my arms.

I patted her hair.  “I know.” A verse whispered through my mind: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.”  (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, NIV).   In all things give thanks?  Even in cancer?  Even in the face of death?  Really? I took a deep breath.  “I’m so thankful for the time God’s given us with Oreo,” I murmured.  “She’s been such a gift.  What a wonderful gift to us, and to her.”

Joelle sniffed.  “What do you mean?”

My voice steadied.  “I’m glad God brought her to us, a family who would love her, for her last days.  She got to teach another little girl to ride. You know she loved that.”

“I did too.”

“Let’s just keep loving her, and thanking God for her.”

And that’s what we did.  For the next weeks, as Oreo continued to waste away, we watched, we loved, we cared, and we talked about being grateful in our sorrow.  

Then one day while my husband away and my girls were at school, I found Oreo lying in her pen.  I knew she would never get up again. 

I waited, and I watched. And so did Oreo.  She held on until the girls got home from school.  

We ran to her, gathered around her, held her, petted her, and told her how much we loved her. Joelle thanked her for being such a good horse and partner. We talked about heaven and being made new. Then, we prayed. 

“Thank you, God, for Oreo,” Joelle cried.  “Thank you for giving her to us.  Thank you for every minute I had with her.”

For forty minutes we stayed with her, with Joelle at her head, talking, praying, petting, holding, and crying.

Then, Oreo gave one last shudder, stretched, and died there in our arms. As she passed, the little girls started to pray again, more prayers of thankfulness, of gratefulness to God, and requests that Oreo be taken to God's pastures in heaven. Then, they looked up into the sky and called out their final goodbyes.

The next day, we put flowers on Oreo’s grave and Joelle prayed such a sweet prayer of thankfulness that my heart broke all over again. I thought about how she had made her very serious commitment-to-God-for-a-lifetime pledge just months before and how God took her through this so soon after, deepening her faith and her vision of Him, taking her from “why” to “thank you,” teaching her the secrets of gratefulness in pain.

Now, as days pass and we continue to grieve, sometimes I see Joelle staring off with a serious look in her eye, and sometimes those eyes turn pink with tears. Then I know she's thinking of her Oreo.

And in those moments she teaches me that even in our pain, maybe especially in our pain, God also gives us a glimpse of His glory.

What are Your Valentine's Expectations?

Hi Friends,

Here's an oldie but goodie. Wrote this some time ago, but it still seems relevant. See what you think...

The Dreaded “E” Word on Valentine’s Day

"Happy Valentine's Day, Honey," my husband murmured, then scooted out the door with his usual quick kiss and bear hug. "See ya later."  Bryan winked and was gone.

That’s it? I thought.  No candy, no flowers, no delicate chocolates in the traditional bright red heart-shaped box! Just a hug, kiss, and out the door? This was supposed to be a day of passion, of romance, of chocolates!  A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth and deepened into ugly grooves.

Bryan never was much of a romantic anyway, I complained.  He just doesn't understand women.  Days like today are supposed to be special. 

I sighed and drew my brows together in a deeper scowl as I proceeded to review again all the faults I imagined in my poor, unwary spouse. By the time I was finished, I was thoroughly dissatisfied.  Valentine's Day was ruined.  And it was all his fault!  

I threw my body crosswise on the couch and swung my legs across the cushions.  Reluctantly, I picked up the Bible for my daily devotion.  I wasn't in the mood.  My eyes fell on the day's scripture, "Serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13).  Love. There was that word.  Today was supposed to be the day of love.  I wasn't feeling much love at all.  And it was all Bryan's fault! ... Or was it?  The scripture didn't say to expect to be loved. It especially didn't say to expect chocolates just because it was Valentine's Day.

Slowly, my temper quelled and I began to examine my reactions.  Bryan had done no more or less than any other day.  He had given me the hug and kiss that I usually counted as a treasure.  So why the difference this morning?  Was it because today I had expected more?  Had I succumbed to the dreaded "E" word - Expectation?  

I began to realize that the problem with my expectations is that I can never win with them.  As soon as I expected Bryan to act a certain way, I set myself up for disappointment.  When he didn't meet my expectations, I was upset.  If he had acted as I expected, then I would have been satisfied.  But how could I have been pleasantly surprised and appreciate his kindness if I had been expecting it all along? 

February, they say, is a month for love.  And Jesus showed us what real love is all about -- Not candies, nor flowers, nor sweet chocolates wrapped in a fancy box.  No, love is about laying down our lives for one another, about serving one another in love. 

So, this year for Valentine's Day, I'm not going to worry about gifts of tantalizing chocolates. I'm not going to cling to expectations of what my husband is supposed to do for me.  Rather, I plan to give my husband one of the greatest gifts of all in a marriage -- I'm going to exchange my expectations for joy and thanksgiving. This year, I'm making Expectation a dirty word!

Waiting in the Dark

Hi Friends,

I've been working on my new book this week and have been revisiting the story of Sarah when she was taken by Pharaoh. So I was reading some of what I wrote in Waiting for Wonder, and came upon these helpful thoughts about encountering Christ in the dark places of our lives. I found these words helpful. Maybe you will too:

Who is this God who rescues us from the harem of Pharaoh, who stops at nothing to reach into our shadows and bring us into his light? Who is he who calls us by our names and tolerates no deceptions? 

Who is he?

He is God of Sarai.

He is God who stopped a crowd to look a healed woman in the face, to call her by her true name. Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8 tell about a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. No doctor could heal her. She had no money, no cure, no hope. Like Sarai, she was caught in the dark shadows of of circumstances that shut her away from her most precious relationships. She was untouchable. She could not go into the temple. And this disease was as powerful in her life as Pharaoh himself.

But she saw Jesus. She wiggled her way through the crowd that day. She touched the hem of his robe. And she was healed. She was free.

At that moment, she had everything she had come for, everything she hoped for.

She was finished.

Jesus was not.

He stopped the crowd. He turned. He looked around carefully to find her. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace, healed from your disease.” 

He called her Daughter. He called her his own.

Daughter, loved one, precious one, dear one. Daughter, the one you would give anything to save.

That’s who she was.

That’s who we are.

Healing is not enough. Rescue is not complete without restoration. Sarai is sent away with Abram only when her right relationship with him and with God is restored. The woman called “Daughter” is sent away only when Jesus has stopped the crowd to restore her to the community and to himself. Only when she is called by her true name - Daughter.

When no one saw her for who she was, Jesus did. Even now, we refer to her as “the woman with the issue of blood.” But Jesus didn’t call her that. He called her Daughter. And he made her whole.

So when you are waiting in the dark, when hope seems lost, when circumstances are beyond your control, when God’s promises seem like a distant dream, he is coming to rescue you. You are his precious one. 

All you may be wanting is your situation fixed, but he is offering so much more. He will stop the world to look you in the face, love you, and call you his child. 

No matter where you are, what you’ve done, what’s been done to you ... He names you as his own. You will be called out of Pharaoh’s harem and set free. 

Reach out to touch the hem of his cloak, and wait for your redeemer.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Helen H. Lemmel, 1922

Silencing the Negative Voices Within

Hi Friends,

You know when your own worst enemy is yourself? Here's some help for silencing those negative voices that rise up within us sometimes and tell us lies:

Silencing the Negative Voices Within

(adapted from REACHING FOR WONDER, Encountering Christ When Life Hurts)

         Few stories in the Bible are more fascinating than the tale in Mark 5 of a man who had a legion of demons living in him. Sometimes when we speak of demons in the New Testament, people want to argue about whether demons are real or are forms of mental illness. Some want to debate how many demons can fit on the head of pin, or in this case, in one poor man. Others want to focus on the question of whether Christians are immune to possession. 

         But no matter the debates, none of us are immune to the voices in our heads. We all know the whispers that arise in our minds when life turns to dark, painful places. All of us can relate to the pressures of insidious thoughts that are not from God and mean only to destroy us. Thoughts that tell us we’re worthless, hated, unable, unfit, unwanted, abandoned, helpless, hopeless, and no one, even God, can redeem us. Thoughts that drive us to actions we despise and cause us to hurt those around us. Voices that build hate and fury, that break community, crush love, and leave us lonely.

         You know those thoughts. You know the chaos they create within you. I do too.

         So I look to this man with thousands of voices screaming for attention in his mind, and I wonder … what is it like to encounter Christ with when the voices are so loud you can no longer hear yourself think, or pray, or believe? Can Jesus reach through the voices within? Can he silence them? And in doing so, will we hear the very voice of God?

         Three things give me hope:

1) The Voices Make Themselves Known

         We know what the voices say. Perhaps those inside the man said, “You’re worthless, you’re an animal, you’re bad, evil, irredeemable.” So like the condemning voices in our own heads. “You’re not good enough. You’re so stupid. You’re fat, you’re ugly. Those people hate you… you’re shamed and despised. You’re less than. They’re less than. You’re different. You’re wrong. They’re wrong. You can never be free. You can never be who God created you to be.”

         Lies.

         But they will not be silent on their own. And sometimes that’s not a bad thing.

         Because there’s one thing about these voices in the demoniac’s head, in our heads, that lead to their ruin: they make themselves known. They don’t run and hide. 

         When Jesus arrived on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the demoniac didn’t hide in the tombs or in the hills. He didn’t run in the other direction. Instead, he, and all his inner voices, ran straight to Jesus (see Mark 5:2).

         The presence of Jesus brings evil to the light. And when it is revealed, Jesus calls it to come out, of the demoniac and out of us. 

         Every ungodly thought, every whispered accusation that comes from the evil one, every voice that does not reflect the truth of God, are exposed by Jesus. And when they are exposed, we can know them for what they really are: Lies.

         The voices only have power when they whisper within us. In an encounter with Jesus, when they’re brought into the open, they have no power over us at all.

2) God Knows Where the Voices Belong

         Jesus sends the demons into unclean pigs. The pigs all run over the cliff and drown in the Sea of Galilee. What the demons did to the pigs they intended to do to the man. Every whisper, every stealthy hiss, every sharp shout was meant to drive him to death and destruction. The voices that haunt us in our worst moments, the thoughts within that confuse and cause us to hurt others and ourselves – their goal is always the same - our death, to destroy us. 

         These unclean thoughts do not belong in a mind dedicated to Jesus. But we cannot cast them out ourselves. Others cannot bind them for us. Instead, just like the man, we must encounter Christ and throw ourselves at his feet. Only he can free us from the lies the enemy tries to plant in our minds and hearts. Only he can send them where they belong, into the unclean pigs. 

         So what more can we do? We can only follow Paul’s example when he says in 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NIV), “we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Every thought brought to Christ. Submitted to him. Spoken aloud to him so that he can cast them out. That’s all we can do.

         But it is enough. Because Jesus is enough. 

3) In the Silence, We Become Who We are Meant to Be

When Jesus freed the man from his legion of demons, the man sat at Jesus feet and heardhim. He was restored. He became who he was meant to be. 

And that’s how it works for us too. When the voices of self-incrimination, doubt, hate, fear, despair, hopeless, and accusation are thrown out and driven away, we can finally hear God. And we can hear ourselves think.

I know because I’ve seen it happen before my very eyes. A close friend began to believe the lies and fears whispered in her mind. She believed she was less than, not good enough, unloved. Then a man came into her life who enticed and tempted and lured her toward destructive behavior and isolation from everyone who loved her. Her friends tried to help, but just like the demoniac, she broke the bonds that would have held her away from him. We were powerless to save her. 

         So we prayed. All we could do was pray.

         And one night Jesus showed up on the shore. In a scene reminiscent of Mark 5, the man blurted out his malicious intentions to isolate her and have her for himself. He spoke of his plans, his needs, his desires. And in doing so, Jesus revealed to her that all those things that had been whispered in the dark were not words of love, instead they were fit only for pigs. They were meant for her death and destruction. Their purpose was to take everything away that made her beautiful and unique, human, to separate her from her community, devour her and her future. 

         But in a moment, God changed all that. The veil was removed from her eyes and she could see the lies for what they were. She could see the man for what he was. She was in her right mind again. That night, Jesus cast out not only the unhealthy voices within her but also the man who had tried to enslaved her. He tried to come back, tried to lure her again, but he had no power. The pigs were dead. 

         When she was freed and restored, she became again the woman we all knew and love. The unique personality traits that God has created in her bloomed and came to life again, stronger and more beautiful than before. She became a witness to God’s mercy, and because of her, today my faith is stronger, my hope more resilient, my heart, like those in the ten cities, more ready to receive God’s truth when he visits again.

            The voices have no power when you kneel before Jesus. Our God is the God of the voices within.