To Tweet or Not To Tweet By Michelle Rocker

Before the social media craze, I was a people watcher. Sitting in the mall was great fun watching the people go by and wondering what was going on in their life. Why were they happy? Why were they sad? Now, I have social media that is “people watching” at its best. I know what they are thinking now. I know. I sound creepy and stalker-ish. However, I know most of you do it too. How often do you scroll through Facebook or Twitter but never comment or “like” or retweet? You might comment to your spouse or friends with, “Did you see...?” I am curious about what people are willing to offer up, and if there is an especially spicy squabble, I have scrolled through and read the comments as well, after all they did offer it up. I have even at times commented, but primarily, I’m the creeper.

Recently, I have noticed that social media has become an outlet for bashing others. Some bash in the name of their religion, others their morals, and I have even seen family squabbles played out. It breaks my heart. Oh, I have been tempted to air things out when I feel I’ve been wronged, hoping my friends would sympathize or post a dig when someone has done something I don’t feel is right. The news (both the right and left sides) seem to enjoy picking “hot topics” and watch us bicker and fight about why it is right or wrong.

So, how do I bite my tongue when I want to respond?

John 13:34-35: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

I run what I want to say through this filter. Is what I am about to say going to show Jesus’ love to this individual? If my answer is no, then I cannot post it. I am far from perfect and anyone who knows me, knows I have a big mouth and I have stuck my foot in it more times than I care to count. However, this is something I have been “commanded” to do. I know why I believe what I believe. I have no problem sharing my faith. I stand by my convictions. But will getting in a social media battle and climbing on my soap box bring them any closer to the Savior? That is the question. And the answer is: “Love one another...as I have loved you.”

Can I Get A Witness? By Michelle Rocker

My cousin, Casi, agreed to watch my children for me one day while I went to a lunch meeting.  To thank her, I went by Starbucks to get her a drink.  She doesn't normally like coffee, so I ordered a caramel, apple cider.  I pulled up to the window, and the cashier informed me that they were out of apple cider. I said that it was okay, and changed my order to a hot chocolate.  As I handed my credit card to the cashier, she handed me a coupon.

“This is good for a free drink on us, any time you want it.  You would not believe how many people have yelled at us today.”

“Really?” I asked in complete shock at how rude people can be.

The manager told me how awful customers had been, and how much they appreciated my willingness to accept the problem of the lack of apple cider, as well as what a nice person I was.  I will admit that I left Starbucks with a giant smile on my face.  I even puffed my chest out because of my astounding Christian testimony.  What is that verse? Proverbs 16:18:  “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

A few days later, I went to the bank.  There was only one other car in the drive-thru in the farthest lane from the teller.  I pulled right up to the spot next to the window.  The teller never even looked up. 

I thought, “Surely she can see me”, but she just continued to count her money. I watched the other car leave, and another car pull up. 

I sighed and thought, “Any minute now.” That car left, and I began to feel inpatient hives starting to break out on my neck. 

Finally, she looked up and said, “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, uh huh, sure,” I thought. She opened the tray, and I placed my deposit in the tray, and she pulled it back in.  My jaw sagged open as I watched her walk away from the window without my deposit.  The third car drove away, replaced by the fourth car.  My inpatient hives had taken over my entire body.  I swear you could have seen smoke coming out of my ears.  She came back to the window, and still did not take my deposit out of the tray!  She proceeded to count some more money.  By then the other teller, servicing her FIFTH car, looked at me quizzically.  I cannot repeat the thoughts that then filled my brain.  With huge willpower, I clamped my lips together.

After ten minutes, she finally took my deposit.  As she deposited my receipt into the tray, I had reached my boiling point.  I violently grabbed the receipt out of the tray squishing it into a wad, as if it was her head, and hit the gas of my minivan as hard as I could.  Apparently not just muscle cars can do burn outs.

A few days later after my minivan burn-out, I had a rough day with my kids.  The perfect cure for a stressful day:  my free well-deserved drink at Starbucks.  I ordered my favorite:  a venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha, with whip cream.  (I know that the whip cream cancels out the non-fat part, but it makes me feel skinnier.)  As I pulled up to the window, I handed the cashier my little gift card.

She said, “Oh, that’s nice.”

I smiled, and explained how I had earned the gift certificate by my startling display of politeness. 

The manager peeked her head out, and said, “Oh, I remember this lady.  She was so sweet. We had run out of apple cider, and she said it was not a big deal and changed her order.  We had been yelled at all day.”

I flashed my dazzling white smile, and nodded my head like a queen.  Yes, I was a walking example of Christianity.  As I pulled out from the drive thru, I proceeded to choke on my venti, non-fat, peppermint mocha with whip cream when God whispered to me, “Too bad they didn’t see you at the drive thru at the bank the other day.”

My free mocha didn’t taste as good anymore.  I bowed my head and repented. We witness every day whether we mean to or not.  Some days I am successful, other days, not so much.  But I am a work in progress, and am happy to report no burn-outs in my minivan for the past year.

Whine by Michelle Rocker

Do you serve whine when things don't go your way?

Or do you serve it when things are okay?

Maybe aged whine is more your style.

You have years worth stored in your vile.

Soured properly, years passed from the plucked vine,

At just the right time, you pop the cork of whine.

Gallons served without an ounce of tenderness,

A long-winded sermon fueled by bitterness.

No one wishes to dine on this whine,

Sour and bitter, the worst moonshine.

So, all you who serve whine pay attention!

Whine is quite an addicting addiction.

Zip those lips when you wish to complain,

And as for the whine, you should abstain.