On Faith

April 11, 2017

"By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was in the act of offering up his only son, of whom it was said, 'Through Isaac shall your offspring be had.' He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead, from which, figuratively speaking he did receive him back."
Hebrews 11: 17 & 18

Faith is a word that carries a lot of meaning in the mind of the Christian. It is by faith that we became Christians. It is by faith that we attempt to live. It is something that we admire in one another and esteem pretty highly as far as virtues go.

We know people who pray about everything from parking places and food to the church around the world and concerns in the lives of people that they know. We know people whose every word of advice comes straight from Scripture. We know people whose very countenance is like a breath of fresh air. We know them and we long to be like them.

Last week, I had three different conversations about faith. As it usually goes when a theme shows up, I didn't go looking for it. Three different people brought faith up and had specific things to say about it. I listened and smiled and tucked the conversations away. Abraham came up multiple times, so I went digging for his story. We've heard it so many times and encouraged one another with it, but it was time for me to go back to look it over with fresh eyes.

Abraham's life illustrates the hand of God in the lives of His people. God tells His people to have faith and then He shows them how. He tests that faith and, if I'm honest, I don't know exactly what that testing looks like or how to recognize it. I only know that I know faith when I see it and that faith in the face of real life is absolutely beautiful.

Abraham believed. His faith prepared him to obey. Time and time again, he didn't know how it was going to work out, he only knew that it would. And that's what we need. We need to be patient. We need to believe. God will make a way, even when there doesn't seem to be any way. What is meant to be, will be.

There's more to this theme and we'll come back to it another day. For now, I just wanted to get some words on faith down. I don't know what you're going through or what you're waiting on. I don't know what God is calling you to bear or to enjoy. But, I know this: God means for His people to be men and women whose lives are marked by faith.

He may keep you waiting. He may call you to endure more than you think you can. Faith is about looking to God no matter what. It leads to obedience and peace and joy. Circumstances can really mix us up, but remembering that they are all in His hands means that we can face them with our chins up and shoulders straight. What is meant to be, will be.

May we have the faith that looks to God and to the day at hand with confidence in His good plan. May this faith stir up the kind of obedience that delights in God even when that seems hard or impossible. May our waiting and enduring and enjoying and obeying make it possible for those around us to say of us, "By faith ______, when ______, ______." It's been said of many before us and will be said of many after us. God is seeing to it. Remember that.

Whose faith do you admire? 

On Writing: Lessons from Dorothy Sayers

March 13, 2017

"Lord, teach us to take our hearts and look them in the face, however difficult it may be." 

- Dorothy Sayers, Gaudy Night

It hit me that that is the task of writers - to look at and express their hearts and the hearts of others - that is what makes for good writing. That's also what makes it scary and difficult. But, the likes of L'Engle and White and Dahl and Fitzgerald and Berry and Sayers...They all GOT that and doing it, they have found themselves spanning decades and generation after generation. For as much as they deceive us, human hearts are what we know and they do not change much, regardless of the culture they live in.

The scene that came before that prayer was a conversation between Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane about a book she is writing and how she needs help to get the plot moving again.

It went like this,

"You would have to abandon the jig-saw kind of story and write a book about human beings for a change."

"I'm afraid to try that, Peter. It might go too near the bone."

"It might be the wisest thing you could do."

"Write it out and get rid of it?"

"Yes."

"I'll think about that. It would hurt like hell."

"What would that matter, if it made a good book?"..."You haven't yet," he went on, "written the book you could if you tried. Probably you couldn't write it when you were too close to things. But you could do it now, if you had the - the -"

"The Guts?"

"Exactly."

"I don't think I could face it."

"Yes, you could. And you'll get no peace till you do. You've been running away from yourself for 20 years, and it doesn't work..."

And that lays it out perfectly. That's what writing is. Learning from your mistakes, writing the human heart - even your own. It hurts, but people relate and when they relate, the book is exceptionally good.

Taken from an entry 

in my journal dated

January 11, 2016. 

Welcoming Them In

March 29, 2017

Making friends can be TOUGH. We talk about it all the time. We move to a new place or get a new job or settle into a new church and all of a sudden we realize just how much having friends means to us. We strike up conversations and go to gatherings in an attempt to connect with people to share our lives with. We meet a lot of nice people. We meet some really strange people. We discover who has time and space and who doesn't. Explaining ourselves over and over again grows old. Just about the time we decide we can't do this much longer, things click. We settle in. We look around and realize that one friend turned into a whole group of them and it wasn't so bad after all.

I'm finally to that point. I didn't know that I was, but going away for two weeks made it clear that I am. It took a solid year before I met someone who wanted and had time for the same kind of friendship I was looking for. I don't know if my attitude changed or if being her friend meant that some of her friends became my friends by default, but six months later, I found myself on the other side of the country looking forward to the get togethers that would happen when I got home. If you've ever started over from scratch in a new place or grown weary in the hunt for some good friends who live nearby, then you know how HUGE this is.

I spent a lot of months trying to be super friendly and it wore me out. When I had reached the place where I was admitting that I was tired of meeting people, all of a sudden, I became fast friends with someone. We got together when we could and texted in between times. I was satisfied with having just ONE solid friend, but God wasn't finished. I kept putting myself out there and slowly but surely, I connected with more people. Connecting is one thing. Welcoming them in is another.

The work of welcoming them in means being honest. It means explaining yourself, asking questions, answering questions, and really taking time to listen. It means making time and granting time. It means learning things about them and trying to find common ground. I've never been the kind of person who needs to have a ton of friends. I like to have one or two people who know me really well and are just as much my go-to person as I am theirs. That said, I have a lot of long distance relationships. I've learned that having friends close by is important too.

When my attitude about anything bothers me, I step back. I ask myself what bothers me, why it bothers me, how I got there, and what I need to do to "fix" it. As you know, my attitude towards hospitality had reached an all time low and I KNEW that things HAD to change. So, I did what I do. I wrote it out. I prayed it out. I sought God. I talked to myself and observed myself and figured out that I already knew what I needed to do.

Before I left for my trip, I had two very specific opportunities to practice what I was calling myself to do. My friend Annika texted me asking if I wanted to meet up for a walk. Schedules were tight, but I found a way to make it work. She left her car at my house and we walked the trail my brother and I bike. We walked and talked and it was great to stretch our legs on such a long walk after so many months of being cooped up. When we made it back to my house, a voice in my head told me that I should invite her in. I knew that voice was right...So, I did. I invited her in for tea. I offered her some of the cookies I had made the day before. We sat in my living room and talked about her family's new business venture and who knows what else.

A few days later, I was with some friends who were talking about a movie that I knew about but had never seen. One thing turned into another and by Saturday, we were planning a get together to watch it. That voice popped up again telling me to offer to host it. It was the Saturday before I flew to MA. I was busier than busy getting ready for my trip, keeping up with regular life stuff, and running extra errands that had to be done before I left. But, I spoke up and invited them in. The next afternoon, I bustled around the kitchen making simple snacks. The time we had set arrived and the doorbell rang. One by one, they came in. We stood around my kitchen munching on snacks and visiting. We started the movie and when it was over, we sat in silence until the conversation picked back up. We moved back into the kitchen and talked and talked until everyone decided that they really had to go.

Neither offer was a big deal. It was a cup of tea, a movie, some cookies, and a buffet of snacks. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't fancy, it was just welcoming them in. And you know, it was really nice.

I told you to ask me how it was going when I got home. And I'm checking in to tell you that it's going a lot better. Sometimes hospitality falls into our laps, like it did the day after I got home. Other times, hospitality is something that we have to consciously pursue. I'm working on it. So far, I'm doing alright.

Have you ever started over in a new place?

How is hospitality going for you right now?

On Rest: Part Three

February 23, 2012

If you haven't read Part One and Part Two in this series on Rest, you may want to do that now.

Like I said before, Mark 6 isn't mainly about rest or food. It's about the Gospel. It's about learning how to respond when interruptions come. 

Today is the part where I tell you where these truths found ME. I've been to God's Word. I've journaled and prayed my way through this theme that God is bringing to my attention. And like He almost always does, He keeps bringing it up. Kaycee wrote about rest when she linked up with Renee.  Matthias Media shared a post about One-To-One ministry on their FB page. As I was cooking dinner (brats, alfredo, and salad) for my family last night, I had my iPod set to shuffle and this sermon by Carl Medearis came on. I thought I was done learning what I had to learn from Mark 6, but I was WRONG. 

I was in the mood for music, but something about Medearis's message sucked me in. I didn't hit the skip button. I listened and before I knew it, I was REALLY listening. Things are tighter than they've been in a long time. We're spending more money on gas and theatre stuff than ever before. I know it's what we came here to do, but I put a lot of pressure on myself not to waste a single cent as I keep our pantry stocked with food. It's to the point where I'm terrified that an extra mouth or two will show up for dinner because I know I've only set aside EXACTLY how much meat we need to feed the five of us. I've actually encouraged my brother and sister to plan game nights and get togethers so that people show up after any reasonable meal hour so that I don't have to figure out how or what to feed them. 

And this is me...The one who loves to feed people. The person who has always been complimented on how welcome she makes people feel. The girl who thought hospitality might be one of her gifts. I've turned into the person who can come up with at least five excuses of reasons NOT to invite people over for dinner without even trying. I've turned into the person who guards the nights we have at home to ourselves because they seem to be so few and far between. I've turned into the person who doesn't see interruptions the way Jesus taught His disciples to. And I don't like it. 

I'm beginning to see now that I am in desperate need of God's grace where hospitality is concerned. He's shown me that there will ALWAYS be strength for the work He calls me to. And I want to get this clear, I'm not talking about visiting with widows or taking care of children or feeding homeless people or preparing sermons. I'm talking about staying out at rehearsals and auditions and shows until LATE a bunch of nights in a row. I'm talking about spending anywhere from 1 to 4+ hours in a car in one day driving around in circles getting people to where they need to be. I'm talking about figuring out how to arrange my day around said taxi duties so that the laundry still gets done, the groceries get picked up, and the meals are prepared. I'm talking about being super emotional over the fact that there just doesn't seem to be any time left over to go visit my friends that live only a few hours away. He's granted me strength and shown me that every ounce of it came from Him just when I needed it. I trust that He's about to do the same thing with hospitality. 

Funny that He would choose one (a story about rest) to introduce the other (a lesson on hospitality). That's how He works, you guys. Here a little, there a little. He calls us to BE His people and then He shows us how. 

I don't have the answers. I know what Mark 6 and Medearis have made me WANT to do. I know that I want to stay in the Word. I know that I want to continue consciously basking in the light that God is to His people so that it becomes a habit. I know that I want to take time each day to quiet my soul before Him. And now, I know that I want to view interruptions the way He does and to use them the way He would, as though they are part of the plan. After all, they are. Like one of my favorite Southern Gals always says, "There is no plan B with God." 

I'm writing this on March 9 and by the time you read this, I'll be with friends in MA who are like family. I've had a lot of those over the years and each and every one of them has opened up their home, their family, and their dinner table to me on countless occasions. I've had some amazing examples of what it is to be hospitable, but somewhere along the way there was a major disconnect. 

I know it doesn't have to be perfect. I know it doesn't have to be fancy. And I know that God calls His people to imitate Him. So, ask me how it's going when I get home. 

On Rest: Part Two

May 6, 2014

If you missed Part One, you'll want to go read it now. :) If you read it, then let's pick right back up where we left off! 

So, there they are, pleading with Jesus to send these people away. And Jesus does what He always does. He is moved by compassion for the people, the work His Father is doing, and the concern He has for these men He has gathered to disciple. It's not about rest. It's not about food. It's about the Gospel. A lot is happening here. I don't want us to miss it. Jesus responds to them with a simple sentence. I can imagine the smirk on His face and the gentle tone of His voice. In Mark 6:37, Jesus answers the disciples' pleas like this, he says, "You give them something to eat."

They answer the same way we would. The place is desolate. The crowd is massive. They came here to rest and they are probably just as tired and hungry as the people Jesus has told them to feed. They answer Him accordingly and He tells them to go see how many loaves of bread they have. I think He does this because He wants them to know exactly what is about to happen. They come back with the report, "Five, and two fish." Jesus tells the crowd to sit in groups. He looks to heaven and says a blessing and then gives the food over to the disciples who pass it around to the people. We're very familiar with all of this. We know that everyone got fed and that there were leftovers. We may have even clung to verse 42 which tells us that "they all ate and were satisfied." We know about the five loaves, the two fish, and the 5,000 men.

What I missed and what you may have missed was that the people did not go there intending to teach or feed anyone. They went away to rest at the command of Jesus. They had been working and burying the man sent by God to prepare the way for Jesus. Times were tense and they were more than ready for an opportunity to recharge. What I missed all these years is that Mark 6 teaches us how to treat rest. It teaches us that it's important. It teaches us that it requires a desolate place. It teaches us that it gets interrupted. It teaches us that we need to know how to respond when interuptions come and it teaches us what can happen when we respond the way Jesus does.

They obeyed. They tried to reason their way out of one of the most famous miracles in the history of Jesus's time with them. They acquiesced and obeyed more. The crowd that had gathered was satisfied with the words of Christ and the food He gave them for their bodies. The disciples aren't done yet. We keep reading and we watch as another famous experience takes place. They get back in the boat while Jesus dismisses the crowd and stays behind to pray. The wind rises up against the men in the boat. Like so many of us, they are taking the scenic route to a lesson Jesus is trying to teach them.

It never tells us if they ever got the rest Jesus originally called them to seek. What it does do is show us what the disciples would have missed out on if they would have had their own way. If Jesus and His disciples would have sent that crowd away or hid from them or headed up onto the mountain, one of the most encouraging stories we share with one another never would have happened. The disciples would have got their rest, but those 5,000 men and whatever women and children were with them wouldn't have the testimony of the time they were taught and fed by the Messiah. The disciples would have rested and been recharged. They would have had time to pray. But, they would have missed out on an opportunity to be used by God. When Jesus calmed the wind and joined them in the boat, the chapter begins to come to its close. What follows is a sad declaration of the state of their hearts.

We can read Mark 6 and learn so many things. On my most recent read through, I've learned that:

Rest is vital. If the Son of God needed it, then we certainly need it. True rest requires peace and quiet. We have to silence the voices around us and in us and go away to a desolate place where we can be alone with God. We live in a culture that praises introversion. We are all about self-care and treating ourselves. While we can all use a lesson on what true rest is, we don't have to be taught to value rest or to seek it.

Rest is almost always interuppted. Jesus was interuppted time and time again. He couldn't ever truly get away. In Mark 6, the disciples are interuppted. We are interuppted. The phone rings, the children ask for something, the neighbor knocks on the door or calls over the back fence. Our own minds turn to other things and the rest we set out to get vanishes. Interuptions come and we've got to know how to respond. If it wasn't for Jesus, the disciples (and the 5,000 and those of us who have come after them) would have all missed out on something God was about to do.

I've got one more post to share with you in this series...Until then, would you tell me about a time your rest was interrupted as well as the good work that God allowed you to accomplish because of that interruption?

On Rest: Part One

January 11, 2017

For the last few months I've been spending time reading the Gospels. I'll give you a quick snapshot of how my time in the Word works. I choose a book to focus on and then I make why way through it reading anywhere from a few verses to a handful of chapters at a time. I begin each "session" by journaling, then I switch to reading, and then I alternate between reading, copying down key verses, making notes, and praying until I'm out of time. This usually goes on for about an hour or so.

About a week ago, I made it to Mark 6. Mark is the third gospel that I've read in the last few months, so the details of many of the stories are starting to become familiar. I've noticed that this has freed me up to focus less on the WHAT and more on the WHY of each one. When I came to Mark 6, I read about Jesus being rejected in His hometown, Jesus sending the disciples out with the clothes on their back and a staff to call anyone who was willing to listen into repentance, and then I read about the death of John the Baptist. I reached the end of verse 29 feeling the weight of the faith that these men must have had and the heaviness that must have settled onto their shoulders as they faced each of these events.

Then, in verse 31,  Jesus tells them it's time to follow His lead. He says to them, "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while." The verses that follow tell us that they got into a boat and headed to such a place. I was marveling at this Scripture and wondering how I had missed it during the countless times I've read this book. I've studied Jesus's habit of going away by Himself to pray over and over again. I've tried to figure out how how He knew it was time and just exactly what He did while He was away. I've tried to imitate Him and cling to the Father the way that He did...Here, in Mark 6, Jesus was teaching His disciples to do the thing that I'm convinced sustained Him during His time on earth. So, I'm reading along and thanking God for finally showing me this. I'm copying down the verses and settling in to read what comes next.

Maybe you already know what comes next or maybe you've disconnected these accounts the way that I have. I'm sorry to admit that it's highly likely that I skimmed over verses 30-33 during my previous encounters with this chapter.

Jesus recognized that the disciples needed rest. He tells them to go away to a desolate place to rest for a while. They obey. They get in a boat and head out. A lot has been going on. Some of the most trying days of their early ministry have happened. They are tired and hungry and they must be looking forward to this rest. Then, comes verse 34. They make it to shore and a crowd had figured out where they were going and was gathered together waiting for them. Jesus gets out of the boat and begins to teach them. Get this. Jesus tells the disciples to rest and they are interrupted. The crowd stays gathered. The teaching goes on and on. It grows late. The men who were tired and hungry are more tired and more hungry and the desolate place Jesus told them to find would be the very place they are in except that all these people won't go away. The disciples ask Jesus to send the crowd away to find food for themselves so that the disciples can get to this "rest" they came to this place to find.

What's about to happen is the account of the time five loaves of bread and two fish fed 5,000 men until they were satisfied. Get this. The story they taught you about in Sunday school every year happened because people who were seeking rest in a desolate place were interrupted. I'm still going over all of the implications of this story. The fact that Jesus knew exactly what they were going to find when they reached that desolate place is weighing on my mind. The emotions the disciples must have been feeling are the ones I find myself relating to. The point of the whole encounter is something I do not want to miss.

And since this post is long enough already, I'm going to leave you hanging. We'll pick up part two next week. Until then, I'd love to hear about what you're reading and what God has been teaching you through it! 

An Encouraging Resolve

Today I am going to join Renee for her link-up.  There is a new theme each month and this time around the theme is encouragement. Renee is the wife of a guy who sounds like one of the good ones, the mother of two little ones, and one of THE most encouraging people I've ever crossed paths with on the internet. She is really good at fostering community, connecting with people, and being 100% honest about how things are going.

February 23, 2013

Well, I sat down to write this earlier today and ended up typing up what turned into a 9 page document that was close to 2500 words long. I think it's really good, but it needs polishing and I'm not sure that a blog is the right place to share a piece like that. So, I'm trying again.

It's Friday night and I just got back from the grocery store. I live it up, you guys. I also went to the mall today. I was hunting for a navy cardigan or a reasonably priced dress. I came back empty handed. I spotted one navy cardigan, but it was more shrug than what I had in mind. I did try on a dress, but then I realized that it looked like a cheerleading outfit from the 70s or 80s. I put it back (I know you were wondering).

There were a number of older couples shopping together. The men wandered aimlessly while the women pulled different things off of the racks in order to inspect them. The music was not only annoying, it was actually raunchy. I may have reached the point I never thought I would ever reach...I felt like every single one of those men. The clothes were ugly, cheaply made, and over priced. The music was horrible. I walked from department store to department store and found that each one seemed to have the same wares to offer.

Tonight, at the grocery store, things were different. I noticed that most of the shoppers seemed to be men and many of them had their kids in tow. There were some people who came by themselves and every single one of them was walking with the kind of slow purpose that many of us make it to the end of the week with. I made my way to from the meat counter to the dairy section and then weaved through the aisles until I made it back to the produce. While I was shopping, my friend Abigail texted me a time or two and I smiled as I typed out my replies. As I headed to the check stands, I noticed that it was starting to get dark outside and for the first time all day I felt the need to hurry up.

How does any of this connect to the theme of encouragement that Renee selected for the link up? If I'm honest...I'm kind of wondering too. Today, I passed human being after human being. I tried on a dress that some of them made. I listened to song after song that entire groups of people worked to write and record and produce. I overheard tidbits of conversation. I waited in line. I exchanged smiles and silly jokes about Route 66 and the Autobahn. The same can be said for you. You rub shoulders with so many people each day. You may be lonely. You may be so busy that you fall into bed at night. You may be sick. You may be having the time of your life.

Wherever you are, whatever the days have been holding for you, there is a resolve that can inspire your entire outlook. It's from the first verse in Psalm 34 and it says, "I will bless the LORD at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth." Just four verses later, it goes on to say, "Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed."

Today, I worked on a piece of writing until I ran out of time. I learned that I'm not crazy about the mall these days. I went to the grocery store dragging my feet after seeing my brother and sister off to their play.

As I reflect on the day, I realize that what made today different was that I was blessing the LORD. His praise was in mouth. I can't say for sure whether or not I looked radiant, but I can promise you that it's my deepest hope that people see His glory reflected in my very presence. I have full confidence that my hope in Him is SURE.

That's pretty encouraging. I hope you think so too.

February Morning

I wrote these words on Tuesday morning. These are the kinds of pieces I've been writing more of over the last few years. They're the kind of pieces that might be junk, but I've decided to put this one out there. 

December 4, 2010

I was up at 5 to take my sister into work this morning. It was her day to start drive-thru training. After dropping her off, I crawled back into bed and started playing around on my ipad. I ended up searching for an essay by Virginia Woolf titled “Street Haunting” that promised to tell the story of the time she used buying a pencil as an excuse to take an evening walk. It was only last summer that I finally got around to reading Woolf. I’m enthralled with mental illnesses, but also terrified of them. It’s almost as though they’re catching. I’m not sure if these kinds of conditions come through in people’s writing, but I tend to believe that they do. People with mental illnesses have the burden of internalizing the things that they observe. The terror and sadness and overwhelm that follow can surely not be pushed aside when they hold a pencil in their hand or hover their fingers over a keyboard. In a lot of ways, I think mental illnesses make better writers out of people who may have otherwise overlooked the details necessary to take a piece of writing to the place where it can actually move its reader.

Whatever the case, the essay was interesting. It circled around and around and came back to a place where it will leave every reader thinking their own thoughts. Those kinds of hanging endings have become my favorites. She tied in all kinds of things that I didn’t expect. Things like memories, identity, beauty, philosophy, the power of books, duty, the longing to be carefree, and the idea of home were used to illustrate her observations. Each one driven, of course, by the hunt for a single pencil. I moved from my bed, to the kitchen, to my chair by the window in the front room to read this single piece. I enjoyed it and like every good essay, it inspired me to write my own long before I was even done reading it.

In my room, the curtains were closed, but the light was starting to come in. It was just after 6:30 and the house was quiet. The only sound was that of the traffic traveling along the highway. I heard the distinct rumble of diesel engines. The noise has to travel through an entire neighborhood to get to us, but it always does. When there are no sirens and the neighborhood isn’t making noises of its own, the sound reminds me of the ocean.

I moved into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I put the kettle on and placed a tea bag into a mug. As the water heated, I read a few more sentences. She gave me a chuckle over the part about the dwarf lady seeking a pair of shoes. They had a different way of addressing things in those days. It's  a way that would not go over now, I am sure. By the time my tea was ready to drink, I gathered the mug, my ipad, and my blanket and headed for my chair in the living room.

Opening the curtains, I settled in for the rest of the essay. I noticed that I couldn’t hear the traffic at all in the front room. Now, everything was truly quiet. No matter how hard I listened, there was nothing to hear. Only Woolf’s words broke the silence. Words on a little screen glowing with its own light. I read on, holding my cup of tea in my hands, only pausing occasionally to take a sip. The sky got brighter and brighter and settled into the shade of grey that it will be today. As the end of the essay got nearer and nearer, I found, that like Woolf herself, I was taking a walk I didn’t want to end. The bit about being driven by “the rod of duty” and the idea that “if we could stand there where we were six months ago, should we not be again as we were then – calm, aloof, content?” really spoke to me. There was something to her words. We do go about saying - as she wrote in this essay - “Really I must –“ , in our hurry to do the next thing. We do seek to find happinesses we have known before only to find that things aren’t quite the way we had remembered them. It seems to me that the question she was trying to get her readers to ask is, “Must we?”. The hope she helped me to discover is “the beauty is there to behold.” This was a bit surprising to me since the words she used to take readers toward the end of her piece were not full of hope, but of uncertainty. Still, I finished the piece being certain. Certain of the power of words. Certain of the worth of writing them down, even if only one volume is created and a single copy ends up in the hands of one person. Certain that home is a good place to be and that buying a pencil is a worthy excuse for a walk on a winter evening. Certain that looking around and observing is never a waste of time or energy.

Hours have gone by. I’ve since shared her essay with Kiki, chatted with my Mom, gathered the dirty laundry, taken a picture of my backyard for Renee, eaten a piece of peanut butter toast, tidied the kitchen, and posted a recipe for chai tea lattes to my blog. The day is pressing on toward noon and Woolf’s words are still ringing in my ears. They are still saying what they have to say. I’m listening. 

It Was Snowing

Another post I drafted on December 9th. I've got a few coming your way! 

The other day I went to pick my Mom up from work. I went in to let her know that I had arrived only to learn that it was going to be a while before she could leave. In the few minutes that I was in the store, a little mini snow storm blew in. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and immediately took up my "it's snowing" stance. I looks like slower, surer steps, chin tilted down, hands crammed into pockets, and rounded shoulders. I think I may have even muttered something sarcastic to myself. I don't mind snow, but I do not want to get caught out in it. I started my trudge to the car when a sound of absolute glee caught my attention.

I looked toward where the sound was coming from to see a little girl and her Mom. The little girl was looking up into the sky beaming. She had her hands out and her glee had turned into sheer awe. I paused and my "it's snowing" stance melted away into a smile and a laugh. All of a sudden, my memories of those same feelings came flooding back. The Mom had stopped walking and was beaming right along with her daughter. Only, she wasn't delighting in the snow. She was delighting in her daughter. In that moment, there was no hurry. The little girl was completely taken with the flakes falling all around her. The Mom was happy to let her take her time. And I was content to watch.

The last thing I heard before I got into my car was the little girl say, "I love snow." To which the Mom replied, "Yes, you do love snow, don't you?"

The whole exchanged lasted less than a single minute before we all picked back up where we left off. They made their way into the store and I got into my car. Th snow kept coming down and I saw it for the beauty that it was. I sat there waiting for my own Mom thinking about the joy children bring. They remind us to see things the way they're meant to be seen. They remind us that there is no hurry and that life is better when we take our time.

It was snowing and they weren't in a hurry. After that, neither was I.

When 26 Is One Month Away

Well, I almost made it through "No Blog August", but you can all thank my sister for her reminders that things are quiet and that that is simply unacceptable. I'm back with a piece I wrote back on August 13th. Enjoy...

 
We were at a kick off party for a brand new theatre last night when I looked down at my watch and realized that my birthday is exactly one month away. In that moment I left my place in the crowd of strangers and friends to let the realization sink in.

I've been thinking a lot about how I'm the only one in my family who hasn't jumped up and made a new life for myself in this town. I've tried. But, the thing is, doing the same old same old is just a lot easier. It doesn't get in the way. It doesn't put anyone out. And it's safe. When we moved here, I knew it was for all of us, but that it was mostly for my brother and sister. Letting it be for them and helping them settle in and make the most of it was enough. And most days, it still is. But sometimes - like last night and this afternoon - it gets me in a panic.

They're all doing things and making names and starting over and I'm basically missing everything that moving here required of me.

This summer, I've spent a lot of time at home alone with God and with our animals. I thought I was going to get a lot of reading and writing in, but mostly I filled my days with errands and cleaning and gardening and laundry. I put on Pandora's Early Jazz or Cross Movement radio because long periods of absolute silence make me crazy. I did A LOT of thinking while my hands were doing whatever it was they found to do. I didn't get a single thing ready for submission or even come up with a list of places to submit my writing to. I didn't finish planning the literature class I was building. I didn't add any extra books to my summer reading list.

Now 26 is a month away and I'm doing my yearly inspection of where I am and who I am and what I'm doing. This year, I'm really proud of myself. I've learned to be okay with being alone. I've been flexible and spontaneous and a lot less worried. I've gone through the cycle of being super excited to meet new people, to being ready to crawl into a cave, to being willing to put myself out there again. I've started and kept a garden even though I had no idea how long it would be here for me to tend. I've seen things I am totally disturbed by without letting my pride grant me the right or the responsibility to handle them.

And then there are things I want to work on. I want to work on the weaknesses of my temperament. My personality comes with a tendency towards irritability. That's one of my least favorite things about myself and Packer's book showed me that I don't have to give into it. I want to be thankful.  I want my mouth to be a fountain of living water and now I have a real hope that it CAN be. I want to care a lot less about what people think. The older I get, the easier this is, but I'm having a hard time with this where my decisions are concerned.

26 is one month away and I'm feeling like Dorothy at the end of the movie just before the hot air balloon takes off without her. Chances are, I'll wake up on September 12 feeling just like I did on September 11 and August 13. I'll be 26 instead of 25, but that will be the only real difference. I'm trusting that the work of trusting God and keeping my commitments will be just as rewarding and beautiful and fruitful as it always has been.

The most important things about life never do change. Wherever I find myself this time next year, I'll look back grateful for the lessons 25 taught me. I just know it.

His Name May Not Be George

July 30, 2016

Tomorrow marks the end of another July. I've been outside for just over an hour enjoying my dinner, a wander and watering session in my garden, and one last hour reading over one of the essays in a volume of essays by E.B. White for the first time. I'm two hours away from the place where I started reading this book and only a few miles from the little bookstore where I bought it several summers ago while on vacation. 

I came home from that vacation and put the book on the shelf because I wanted to save it for winter reading. Ever since that winter, I pick it up when the mood is right and read an essay or two. More often than not, I take the little book out to the bench that sat outside of our other house and now sits outside of The Queen's Cottage. Sometimes the weather is the perfect temperature - like tonight - and other times I'm pushing things. On those days, I bring something hot out to drink, pull my hood on, and wrap a blanket around every bit of me that I can. 

Even though I firmly believe in writing in books, this is one book that I haven't made a single mark in. Well, other than the short note I jotted on the title page to remind me of when and where I bought it. I haven't marked up this book, not because the words aren't worthy of interacting with, but because I almost always end up interacting with them in other ways. I stop and pause and savor and laugh and reread when I read E.B. White. After I'm done, I sit in silence thinking over what I've read a little while longer and then, more often than not, I head to my desk and write something of my own. Sometimes - like tonight - I write about what I've read. Other times, I write a piece on a topic that reading his words inspired me to tackle. When I'm done with all of that, I read snippets of White's piece to whoever happens to be around.  

It is fitting that this last essay by a man I adore should be about a place I adore, namely, Massachusetts. To make matters even sweeter, it's an ode to a writer he admired. E.B. White had  a way of seeing past things. In this case, he looked past the fact that one of his most treasured and well-read books was titled "Birds of Massachusetts and Other New England States" and that it dealt with a past-time that neither he nor I have taken up (though I have always thought it interesting). 

 
He observed, enjoyed, and learned from the skill of the author, one Edward Howe Forbush, especially when it came to the "rambling essays" that he wrote on each bird. Like White before me, I have found a writer whose work means more to me than it probably should. When I read "Charlotte's Web" back in second grade and then the other two of his books for children in fourth and fifth grades, I thought that was "it". I looked and looked for more stories by White and came back empty. I had no idea that he wrote pages and pages of words for the New Yorker or that volumes of these and other pieces existed. 

I own two volumes now and am always watching for others to add to my collection. Reading White at 7 and then again at 9 and 10 was just as sweet as reading his essays has been since I first discovered them when I was 23. I expect it always will be. 

His name may not be George, but he can write and I love him for it.

Another post White inspired me to write.

P.S. Please excuse the weird spacing...
Blogger isn't cooperating with me tonight.

The Aim of Grace

June 3, 2016

Yesterday, Amy and I were chatting in the comments of one of her posts and she said some words that reminded me of what God has been teaching me as of late. It's a theme that keeps coming up, so  it's time that I share it with all of you!

Amy said this, "...I'm often reminded that even when we stretch ourselves the Lord continues to fill in the gaps."

And she was right. There is so much that can happen at any given moment. There is so much that IS happening at EVERY given moment. Some of it is wonderful. Some of it is predictable. And some of it is enough to make you want to crawl back into the bed and start over. Whatever is happening, has happened, or will happened, we Christians have a hope in our God that truly is beyond belief.

Our God stands with grace in hand. His people need His grace and He gives it to them as they need it. Grace isn't something we can store up. Grace is granted to us. No more and no less than we need.

A few weeks ago, the familiar passage from 2 Corinthians where Paul talks about God's grace being sufficient came up while the pastor was preaching his sermon. It's been on my mind ever since. God's grace didn't make the hard thing disappear. What God's grace did was give Paul the strength to press on and the humility to know that God was at work.

The same is true for me and for you and for all of God's people. The aim of God's grace isn't to make our lives easier or happier or more comfortable. It doesn't make us perfect. It doesn't make conflicts with difficult people disappear or grant us the ability to deal with them in a way that will keep them from blowing up at us. And it dawned on me that THAT is good news. The good news of God's grace is that it is granted to us to keep us walking with and depending on God.

There's been a lot of stretching going on. And most days it's great, please hear that. I write these things to let you know what's happening with me and to encourage you through the times when you might need to be reminded of truth. On those days when we're sure that this is as far as we can stretch, He's there with the grace we need not to break and crumble and give up. Every time.

"...He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

From A New Garden

June 3, 2016

I just came in from working in the garden. I have a fine layer of dirt on my face, one wet knee, and the sore spot I get between my shoulders from stooping is talking to me again. This morning seemed like the perfect time to check my plants, do some weeding, and set the sprinkler up. I filled a little bucket with a few weeds and worked a little bit more on clearing out the clumps of dead grass that are along the edge of the garden.

My work out there started about a month ago. I began the way I always do, sitting in my chair dreaming about what should go where. Making that decision is the hardest part. When the weeds started popping up, I took a hoe to them and knew that it was time to get a few steak knives and a bucket of some kind. Now, with bucket and knife, I go out about once a week or so to collect any weeds that I see.

In the meantime, I've been leveling out the soil and planting. I'm still trying to figure out what will go where, but so far, I've planted zinnias, cucumbers, chives, and peas. I have four cuttings of mint in a vase of water on the kitchen counter so that they will send out some roots. I've filled the window boxes with petunia seeds and the old barrel planter with a packet of wildflower seeds. I'm looking forward to going over to Suzanne's to learn more about gardening in this area. She's promised me some herb starts and I think those will do well in the little raised bed.

There's a big hole in the very middle of the garden and everyone keeps asking me when I'm going to fill it in. I haven't filled it in yet and I don't know what I'm waiting for. I'll get around to it eventually. Maybe when I decide what should go there. I've hauled my two little watering cans, my small metal table, my fencing trellises, and my garden markers here from my garden at the other house. The watering cans and table have homes in this new garden now and my sister helped me set up one of the trellises. And it's actually starting to look like a garden.

Every week, something new turns up reminding me of the people who tended this yard before me. There were tulips and pansies and some phlox. Now the snapdragons and a white rose bush and a plant I can't identify are doing their thing. The leftovers of last year's alyssum that came up in the window box outside my bedroom started blooming this week.

It's June and gardening season is here. They don't feel like "my" garden or "my" yard yet, but I expect that they will pretty soon.

On Writing: Goals for 2016

A few days ago I shared an essay on the writing life. Today, I'm sharing a list of ten goals that I jotted down in my journal on the 4th of January.

If you're a writer, maybe this list of mine will help you make a few goals of your own. If you have some other task you hope to accomplish, maybe my list will inspire you to break it down into manageable steps to get you a little closer to the mark.

Pretty much everything I have ever accomplished found its beginnings in a list. Here we go!

Tasks:

*Make a space for writing

* Enter library writing contest

*Watch videos on plotting/character development

*Establish a writing routine and keep it

*Work on a novel

*Watch for and enter other writing contests

*Share pieces (polished?)

Style Goals:

*Get rid of or at least use fewer (  ) with under your breath explanations in them.

*Make use of your Thesaurus.

*Take time to let pieces sit and then edit, edit, and edit some more. Improve them. Put the work in. With journaling and blogging, things get recorded and stay as they are. There are no rough drafts. Change that.

*Learn more about writing narrative.

What's a goal your working towards right now?

Do you have any writing goals for 2016?

Inspired By Marina: An Essay On The Writing Life

Today I'm sharing something from my journal. The date on the upper right hand corner of the page is May 3, 2015:

* * *

I just finished Marina Keegan's book, "The Opposite of Loneliness." I was impressed by the words her teachers said about her work as well as what she accomplished in her short lifetime. We were both born in 1990. We both liked to write. We were both goal setters, thinkers, and had a desire to be encouragers. I think that is where the similarities stop. I grew up on the west coast in a tiny town. She grew up on Cape Cod with all of its advantages and opportunities. She achieved so much with her pen. As I read I kept thinking, "This is it. This is all that's left. She's gone." Knowing how her story ended (in a car accident a few years ago) before I ever knew anything else about her,  really gave me perspective as I worked my way through this book that her parents and teachers had published after she had already died.

The book has a speech she gave (I think it's a speech, but maybe it was an article) called "The Opposite of Loneliness." It was addressed to her fellow graduates at Yale in 2012. That piece was followed by works of fiction and then non-fiction. Each section was introduced by a short piece of poetry that was also written by her. In order to get to know her and to get inside of her head, I decided to go to the back of the book to read the non-fiction first. I'm so glad I did! The very first thing I read was the story of her first car which she called "Stability in Motion." I loved that piece. Hers was a 1990 Toyota Camry. Mine was a 1988 Honda Accord that started out in GA and somehow made its way to WA state...There was an outline of an Atlanta Braves bumper sticker faded into the black bumper. I hated that car and loved that car and it was its story and that bumper sticker that changed my mind. Anyway...As I read that piece, I thought to myself, "These are the things I want to write! I could have totally put this together." And I decided that maybe I would learn a lot from this book.

As I made my way through the rest of the non-fiction section, I skipped bits and pieces. The fiction called for even more skipping. She wrote pieces that were unguarded, raw, and 100% honest. She may have had a different view of the world and life and a brutal way of communicating, but over all, it was good. She loved the word "profundity" and used it every chance she got. She was always thinking about things' opposites and using them as springboards. I think she had some things figured out, but that a lot of life left her so confused.

In the introduction, her teacher shared emails that Marina had sent as well as a story from the first time they met. Marina questioned a writer as he was speaking by blurting out something that made me think of a similar event in my own life, "You can't really mean that?!?!" Marina had a notebook that she used to keep track of descriptions of things such as, "a waiter's hand gestures...my cab driver's eyes...strange things that happen to me, or a way to phrase something." And she called it "Interesting Stuff." Eventually, she started using a Word document and filled up "32 single-spaced pages."

When she didn't make it into some club at Yale, she decided to use the time to write a novel - 12 hours each week. 6-12 on Thursdays and Sundays. I think of making time like that to WRITE too! Her teacher said that she was a re-writer. She would work on a piece over and over because "there can always be a better thing."

Marina is gone and I am here. We are so different, but I want to remember that I must write. I must take the time to write and to re-write. And once it happens, I must hand it over for people to read. She died and people went through her things. That's one thing about dying that kind of scares me - people will go through my things and I'm afraid that they'll be very disappointed.

* * *

Most of a year has passed and Marina is still on my mind. I've mentioned that I plan to write and write some more this year and I made reference to a writing workshop that I created for myself. The journal entry that I shared today is just one piece of inspiration that I'm taking with me. Stay tuned for more details on that workshop, my writing goals, and what it takes to write and write some more. 

Who has inspired you with the kind of inspiration that sticks around? 

Do you have anything specific you want to hear about when it comes to writing? 

A Taste of My Own Medicine

This is one of those posts that has absolutely no good place to begin. I think I MIGHT be coming down with the first bout of whatever goes around every year at the beginning of winter, so I'm sitting at home with ^ that mug of "sick tea" ^ and four straight hours of alone time ahead of me.

I've been telling everyone about this tea of mine over the last few months. My cousin Theo had a sore throat (which I'm pretty sure I caught) and I told him about it back in September. The other day I was texting with my friend Amber only to find out that she's got one now too. Here's what I do: one cup PIPING hot Lipton black tea, one teaspoon honey, one teaspoon lemon juice (I use ReaLemon's bottled version). It's basically a hot Arnold Palmer, but it takes some getting used to. I save them for when I'm sick or feeling like I'm on my way to sick.

Needless to say, I'm there. Yesterday I took not one but TWO naps (I almost NEVER nap). I've been beyond tired and there is absolutely no reason for it. I've been worrying and trudging along and working REALLY hard to finally finish the very last thing I need in order to be able to say that I have graduated from college.

I'm overwhelmed by God's grace and the gift He gives us in each other.

Ever since we came to The Queen's Cottage back in August, we've been attending a church. It has come to feel like HOME. For some reason, I find myself holding my breath. I'm so confused about how long this town will be "home" and a little mad at myself for not wanting it to be.

Everywhere I turn, I've been seeing reminders of God's grace. Kevin and Joan made sure we knew that we are welcome and have been true friends to us in this season. They don't ask questions, they just embrace us. Esther stepped up to the plate to help me with this speech and has devoted countless hours to meet with me. The handful of 20 somethings that I've met have caused me to go out of my way to make new friends.

And then there are the words...Hearing the Bible read out loud week after week, receiving prayers that have been carefully constructed, and preaching that lays out who God is and what He is up to have been SUCH a treat. When I scroll through facebook or click on an interesting article or open my own Bible, I keep finding declarations of my need for and God's abundant gift of GRACE.

My body might be under the weather, but my soul is flourishing. My flesh might be worried and afraid and forgetful, but my spirit is being ministered to by the Helper that Christ promised to me.

Maybe that's where you are this season...Maybe life is confusing. Maybe you're longing for a Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years filled with ALL of your loved ones gathered around you. Maybe you've been blessed with MUCH, but find yourself longing for something else.

Won't you join me in tasting the medicine?

"For the LORD your God is a merciful God." Deuteronomy 4:33 

Butterfly Minds

September 24, 2015

"Our culture encourages us to have butterfly minds, flitting from one thought to another without going deep into anything." J.I. Packer

We are constantly surrounded by all kinds of things seeking to grab our attention, even if we only give them a few seconds of our time. Chances are that before you clicked on the link to this post, you had just finished reading a post or two before it. Perhaps you were scrolling through some form of social media.

The fact is, Packer's words are spot on and I firmly believe that this is not the way God meant for our minds to function. I will be the first person to admit that I am so guilty of using my mind in ways that are in direct rebellion to God. I've been very open about my tendency to worry. These words by Packer clued me into the diagnosis of another problem that I was only vaguely aware of.

I don't have to tell you how butterfly minds work. You know and I do too. If you find yourself lost in the fog of flitting from one thought to another, you're not alone. BUT, we don't have to give into the tendency that our culture encourages.

The mind is a gift and a tool and when the Spirit breathed new life into our soul, He also did a work on our minds. Our minds are not part of this culture. If we let allow them to fit into it, they will, but there is grace that shows us the way out of this trap.

When I read the Gospels, Christ's relationship with the Father is what inspires me more than anything else. I want to have the mind of Christ living in me. The mind of Christ was no butterfly mind - it was focused, it was sure, and it was aimed at guiding the body of the God-Man to live and think and act for the glory of the Father.

The fact is, that same mind is ours because of Christ. In Philippians 2:5 Paul exhorts believers to, "Have this mind [of humility] among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus..." We know from reading the Bible that Christ was no flitter. We know from experience that flitting does not satisfy.

We are here to experience and share and magnify the name of our Lord. Romans 12:2 explains the importance and result of being freed from all of this flitting, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect."

 It's up to each of us to figure out what it will take to teach our minds to stand strong against distractions. The outcome will be worth the effort because transformation happens by the renewal of our minds.

Do you share this struggle?

How have you or are you working to overcome it?

I See

 

Yesterday was the kind of ordinary day that says very little about a person. I taught a class, gathered dirty towels to be washed, pulled meat out of the freezer, went shopping for some props, had a simple lunch, and then I raked some leaves. No one driving by knew who I was or how long I would be out there working. I raked by myself and thought back to the Saturdays I spent raking leaves in Massachusetts with Hannah and Glenn or Rachael and Shauna five falls ago. I had my iPod playing in one ear and I listened to the sounds of the neighborhood with the other. 

As I pulled the red garbage can along beside me, I found myself trying to figure out exactly how we used those sheets to contain the leaves before we dumped them into the woods behind the house. I never did figure that one out. I kept raking and scooping until the garbage can was full and then I drug it over in front of the garage where I left it until I figure out exactly what we're to do with leaves here. 

I went inside, took off my shoes, and laid down on the couch for a nap. When I finally woke up, I wasn't sure that I'd ever actually get up and make dinner...but then I did. The next hour was spent in the kitchen with my black notebook reminding me how to prepare Salisbury Steak and family drifting in and out to chat about the episode of America's Test Kitchen podcast that was playing. 

The salad was prepped, the potatoes were peeled and boiled and handed off to my sister to mash. Dinner was ready with just enough time to eat before we had to run out the door for another rehearsal. 

All day I was thinking about the Friday before it. I was in SC watching my brother graduate from police academy and then I was in his car driving back with him swapping songs and enjoying some time to be with him in person. There were two songs that I especially liked that day, but the one that I keep humming is Ed Sheeran's "I See Fire". We ate hamburgers with our Uncle George, Aunt Linda, Aunt Pauline, a few cousins, and my cousin's wife. On the outside, we looked like people who get to do that sort of thing aboslutely all the time. My brother and I made it back home just in time for me to whip up some garlic bread to go with our Dad's spaghetti which we ate around my aunt's dinner table to celebrate the graduation one more time.

Today is Saturday. It'll be ordinary and I'll be thinking about the time I got to spend with my Uncle George's family a week ago today. That day was spent cooking breakfast, watching home movies, playing apples to apples, talking about life with his boys, and watching my cousin's football game.

As I remember, I'll head back out to fill the red garbage can again and no one will even know how full the last week made me feel.

Heart Check

August 18, 2015

"Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." Philippians 2:3-4

I've seen these verses three or four times over the last few weeks. Everywhere I turned, they just kept popping up. Sometimes, when you see a couple of verses on a little plaque or quoted on someone's status, you read them slowly and you notice something you've never noticed before. That's exactly what happened to me when I saw it on a printable a the Wednesday before last.

I stopped my scrolling and read it. I let it sink in. "Do NOTHING from rivalry or conceit." NOTHING. Words like that can't be confused for any other word or meaning. When we read words like that, we really must listen.

Rivalry (and conceit) is one of our biggest motivators. If you don't believe me, pay attention next time there is a small child around. Listen to their taunting voice when they're really proud about something, "I can do thiiiiisssss annnnnnddddd yyyyyooouuuuuuu cannnnnnn't." "Myyyyyyyy shooooooooesssssss liiiiiiiiighhhhhht up annnnnnd yyyyyyooooooouurrrrrrsss dooooonnnnnnn't."

We love one-uping and outdoing the people around us. We love getting praise and admiration and applause. When we read verses like these, they serve as great reminders of the wickedness that dwells in our hearts. God put these words in His Bible because the fact is, that on their own, His people LOVE doing EVERYTHING out of rivalry and conceit.

The surrounding verses make it pretty clear: we're to replace our doing out of rivalry and conceit with imitating Christ and acting out of humility with the same mind for the glory of the Father that He had. The encouragement we have in Christ, comfort we have in love, participation we have in the Spirit, and affections and sympathy that are ours in Him are to be the grace that keep our hearts turned toward His example (verse 1).

I'll tell you, I have always been a lover of rules. I don't care how silly the rule is, I'm 99.9% likely to keep it and to try to help others do the same. I'm this way because a) I don't want to get in trouble and b) I want to make people happy. I'm a rule keeper out of conceit. This verse (like so many others) flips my soul upside down and makes yet another aspect of my life centered on God.

"Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure." Philippians 2: 12-13

When I do my rule keeping, I must consciously tell myself that it's about serving those around me and living in a way that will not tarnish the name of God. When my motives are pure (aka not wrapped up in ME), then even my rule keeping turns into a way for me to work out my salvation.

What is something that you do out of rivalry or conceit?

What verses have been following you around lately?

Today

August 9, 2014

Yesterday morning, I wrote that post about God's people knowing His voice.

Today, I have been bombarded with the news that "love wins". Over the last few months, this issue has been something that cannot be ignored any longer....While so many people are celebrating, my soul is grieving.

I don't want this to be true of America. I don't want my children to grow up in a society like this. I want to wake up tomorrow and be told that it was all a big mistake.

But it is true, our society is following the desires of their hearts, and if tomorrow comes, it will all be the same.

This is America and she is in rebellion to God. This is the America that has forgotten who she is and what her founders designed her to be.

God said that this would happen (Romans 1:18-32). God is not surprised. God is not standing with His hands in the air.

Tonight, the grief has reached a high. My friends and family are joining in on the celebration. I hoped over to my blog to re-read the last post (I do that to edit any errors) and you know what...The words that I wrote yesterday morning were just what my soul needed to hear tonight.

We must not give up. We must not back down. The Shepherd is gathering His sheep and they'll know Him when they hear Him.