Mine, all mine...or is it?

There's a big, bright light looming at the end of the financial tunnel. After I made my car payment this morning, I now owe less than $1000 on my beautiful Jeep. Substantially less than $1000, actually. Two payments left. Another weight is lifting. I can breathe a little more easily. I'm nowhere near "THERE" because I still owe quite a bit on my house, but I can actually see the "debt-free" light at the end of this tunnel and it makes me almost giddy.

It's been a LONG time (pre-marriage, pre-home-buying [2], pre-credit-card-dependence) since I was completely out of debt. It's a good feeling to know it's not only possible, but actually almost touchable. There's such a sense of impending freedom...I know I carry a burden right now that prevents me from getting to the place where I sense God wants me to be--debt is a heavy load that demands not only my money, but my almost-constant thought and worry. I've realized how blessed I am and, as we study more about "community" and truly living as the Body of Christ in this world, I am more and more cognizant of my selfish "me, me, me" attitude in financial matters. Is it REALLY "mine, all mine"?

I am not one of those people who espouse--in any way, shape, or form--a "health, wealth, and prosperity" gospel. I don't believe in a reactionary, obedient God who is required by some force in the universe, if you just give your supposedly "mandatory" 10% (I have some major issues with that whole philosophy--actually, not just "issues"...I simply don't believe it's scriptural), to spit out financial blessings all over you...or work some kind of automatic, hokey magic that makes the 90% you're "allowed" to keep go just as far, or further even, than the 100% would. (I don't believe that is BEYOND God's ability, mind you...I'm just weary of people spouting trite platitudes and claiming them to be "gospel truth".) I'm tired of sermons on tithing. I'm tired of hearing the "Malachi formula". God is NOT my personal ATM. And he would love to have a lot more than 10% from us.

Read it:

Romans 12--1Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship.

Hmmm. So...what are our "bodies"? Our actual, individual physical bodies? The collective "body of Christ"? Both? Since it doesn't say "dissect your bodies and offer him 10%", I'm going to assume God wants it all. :-) I researched the Greek word "soma" used here--it can actually mean an individual body OR "a number of men closely united into one society, or family as in the New Testament church". Our giving isn't dictated by law or out of fear of a curse (shouldn't be, anyway!)--it's a simple, grateful response to God's mercy.

And coming full circle...if my life is full of debt, financial or otherwise, I'm unable to give my complete self. So, I need to get out of debt. I want to be able to give it all.

Random quote from a random blog...

...belonging to a random Vineyard church pastor somewhere in Canada. This is excerpted from a post about his son's graduation party. I think I want to go to his church...!


So last night my second child and son Jesse graduated from grade 12. Lisa and I invited the whole church over to celebrate. Lots of food, beer, wine, and excellent community. I just love how the community mixes from child to elder. We all mingle together and enjoy each other. I overheard someone say that our church is a “party church”. I like that. I think there is enormous value in just getting together and practice loving one another. This one will go down in memory.

And, in the end, isn't that what it's all about?? Mingling together. Enjoying one another. And some good beer. :-) Practicing love. Being an "excellent community". I want my church to be a party church. And I shouldn't have to go all the way to New Brunswick to find that...actually, I know I don't. I'm part of an "excellent community" already. My small group is my "party church" and I'm grateful beyond words for it. It may not be everything I'd like it to be, but it's a growing/learning process and we're getting there. Excellency takes practice...truly loving others takes practice. And I need the practice just as much as the next person.

The TSW Kensington Fire Story

Updated information/video from The Simple Way about the fire that destroyed their block.

Sometimes you get what you don't expect...

And sometimes that's a really good thing.

We had a seminar at our church this morning on coping with crises. Many of the women who attended have lost spouses or children--the speaker has lived through the deaths of 3 children and her first husband...and she was raped by a murderer while she was on the mission field in China. Makes all of my little tragedies seem not quite so tragic.

Needless to say, it was good stuff. I have much to ponder, much to sort and process...and maybe I'll post some of it after I get it all sorted out. One sentence, in particular, stuck with me--it was one of those "aha!" moments where I knew God was nudging me to sit up and pay attention. She was talking about when she and her husband first decided to get involved in missions work and their church (he was a pastor and had already been diagnosed with cancer at this time) was trying to get them to remain in the pastorate by telling him that they would make sure his wife and children would be cared for and he would have health insurance...that there would be "security" for them in staying at the church. She said "there is NO security in anything if it's not in the will of God".

Hmmm. And what does that mean in my particular situation...??? When I have the answer, I'll share it.

Fire in The Simple Way Community

A seven-alarm fire at an abandoned warehouse in Philadelphia destroyed The Simple Way's community center yesterday morning and left at least eight families without homes.

The Simple Way is home to Shane Claiborne, author of "The Irresistible Revolution", the book we're currently studying in our Sunday night small group--the book that is totally kicking my butt because I'm not living out many of the things I believe are true and right and good. Shane and a housemate lost all of their belongings and The Simple Way lost the building that housed their community arts center, an after-school program and a t-shirt printing business.

I'm heartsick over this--I said this morning I feel like this is someone in my family...which, I guess, really is accurate. Shane Claiborne has had a huge impact on the way I look at life in general and the body of Christ and community specifically.

Tony Campolo's ministry has set up a page on his website if anyone wants to donate to either The Simple Way's rebuilding fund or a separate fund to help the eight families who are now homeless.

Here's a video of some shots of this horrible fire....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D8Ai-O-LcU

On a brighter note...

...I'm watching a fascinating movie called "Pan's Labyrinth"--it's Spanish w/subtitles and there was a pretty bloody scene right at the beginning, but aside from that, it's pretty interesting. It's difficult, though, to fold laundry while you're watching a subtitled movie!!

"Now, ma'am, I must ask you please..."

"...would you be seeing a cable that is connected to your computer and to your modem, thank you?"

I can't get that sentence out of my head. Probably because I heard it about ten times last night in an absolutely worthless 15-minute phone call to Verizon DSL Tech Support. Let me warn you, if you call Verizon DSL Tech Support and get a girl named "Lanie", HANG UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!

Not only would she not listen to me explain my problem and therefore walked me through several exercises in futility, she was rude, kept speaking in a foreign language to people in the background without muting her microphone, asked the cable question enough to make me want to crawl through the phone line and do ugly things with the bright yellow Ethernet wire (which was FIRMLY attached to both computer and modem as it should have been), and finally told me "well, as you can see, we have done all we can, so your problem is obviously in your computer and you'll have to call Dell to have them resolve it". Not really sure why I waited that long to hang up on her, but I did at that point.

My desktop computer is old and slow and takes forever to load pages--I explained that to her upfront, but apparently she hears English even more poorly than she speaks it. At one point, she asked me to restart my computer and, when *she* thought it should be rebooted, she started firing off instructions to me about what to do next. I interrupted her and told her that it was still shutting down and she did this exasperated "Oh, my God!" thing and started asking me every ten seconds if it was restarted yet. (That was the point at which she was also talking very loudly in another language to people in the background--sounded like they were having a party in the room). I could just see her rolling her eyes and tapping her fingers while she waited with absolutely NO patience, because I was keeping her from something really important. (Wait a minute--isn't she "tech support"? Doesn't she get paid for helping me, no matter how long it takes to reboot my computer?)

Maybe she gets paid for the number of times she asks if I can see a yellow cable connected to my computer at one end and my modem at the other...if so, she surely scored a bonus on my call!! Honestly, I have never been treated more poorly by a customer service/tech support person anywhere--she was rude, condescending, AND didn't know what she was doing (had me uninstall my NIC and then told me to close out the installation "wizard" when it popped up, because I didn't need it). And she gave me that "you are really annoying me" sigh way too many times.

So, I called back today and got a really nice man named Paul. I told him upfront "before you ask, my yellow Ethernet cable is attached to my computer AND my modem and please don't ask me a dozen times to make sure I can see it". He laughed. I told him exactly what my problem was and that I had fixed it before, but had lost my written instructions on what to do after I hit the reset button on my router. He said "no problem, ma'am, we'll have that fixed in just a few minutes", walked me through it step by step, without doing anything completely useless (and without one question about my Ethernet cable!) I told him several times how much I appreciated his helpfulness and good manners--he never once spoke remotely condescendingly to me. There ARE good people out there in Verizon Tech Support land.

I still don't have wireless for some reason...I've done everything I know to try to fix that, so I have to call back tomorrow and work on the next problem. Technology, unless it's working the way it's supposed to work, just doesn't mesh too well with me.

And I STILL haven't found that missing wireless router...

The "unsuffocating" has begun...

I've spent a good part of this afternoon/evening going through my bookshelves. At last count, there are eight books on how to simplify/declutter your life in the "toss" pile. Seemed like a good place to start!! Why do I keep buying books that tell me how to do what I already know how to do if I'm not going to pay attention to them and actually get rid of something?

I also discovered that I had about a dozen books on herbal remedies/natural healing that all pretty much said the same thing. Some of them had really pretty pictures, though... Out they went. I think I kept four of them. I do refer to a couple of them occasionally and one of them is a beautifully illustrated herbal encyclopedia that I'm keeping mostly just for the artwork. A girl's gotta have a few things for purely aesthetic purposes!

It's been interesting to flip through some of these books and read things I've underlined and comments I've made in the margins. I have four excellent books on churches that abuse and recovering from spiritual abuse--lots of angry comments and red marks in those! I'm keeping the one that spoke the most healing into my particular situation...it was a constant companion for awhile and a good reminder now of how far I've come from those bad days. God has used time and distance to heal deep wounds from which I once thought I would never recover. Along with those books, I'm also discarding the ones that deal specifically with wounds inflicted on women by ugly churches and several books on divorce and its aftermath. All good books, all had their time and purpose. And I have a pile of books that came highly recommended by people I respect, but the books just didn't "click" with me and I didn't get past the first chapter or two before laying them aside--and I never will.

My bookshelves are certainly looking much less cluttered now! And I'm already feeling like it's easier to breathe, even though nothing's actually left my house yet...I feel the load is lighter simply because I'm moving toward the goal. I have a sense that this whole "unsuffocating" thing may have deeper purpose than just getting rid of the physical "stuff". And it will be really cool that the important books in my life (my Donald Miller, Anne Lamott, and Wendell Berry collections among others) can be moved off the floor and onto a shelf where I can actually find them!

Back to work. My closet is next. Scary. ;-)

Suffocated by "stuff"...

I've just spent the last 30 minutes turning my house upside down, looking for the spare wireless router that I KNOW is here somewhere. Verizon sent me 2 of them when they had my account all messed up and I kept the extra one, because I thought I might need it someday. I don't need the router, but I DO need a Westell wireless card, because...well, because the Verizon website says I do in order to get the wireless stuff to run on my new laptop. I didn't need one for my OLD laptop. Don't ask me why.

I just want the stupid thing to run--I don't care what makes it work...it just needs to work. I've spent way too much time trying to read tech stuff (gives me a headache) and figure out the problem...and now that I've figured it out, I don't have what I need to solve it. So, I've unplugged the ethernet cable from my desktop computer and connected my laptop directly to the router so I can sit comfortably on my couch and bitch.

So...I have too much STUFF. Junk. Crap. And things that aren't really junk that I've kept for a variety of sentimental or guilty or wishful reasons, but don't need at all. My closets are full of boxes. My back porch is full of boxes. My basement is full of boxes. Of stuff. Clothes that I'm too fat to wear. Books that I'll never read again. Old greeting cards, newspaper clippings from years past, cake-smudged napkins from weddings of people who've been divorced for years (probably some of my own in there!) Gifts I've received and didn't really care for, but felt guilted into keeping. Things I used to collect (milk bottles, hay hooks, chamber pots, carnival glass, chicken stuff, old crocks). Scraps of wood and wallpaper from my remodelling project. And somewhere, buried in the midst of all of it...a wireless router that I'll find someday when I'm looking for a chamber pot. ;-) Stuff.

We've been talking lately about "generational curses"...what that means, how to recognize them, how to "break" them. I'm not sure that "curse" is even the right word...some of the things we've been talking about ARE unhealthy patterns, mindsets, behaviors, but I'm still debating on how I feel about calling them "curses"--not sure how that adds up with being under grace. Still thinking on that. At any rate, I know that I suffer from inheriting my granddad's penchant for pack-rattedness. He kept everything. Everything. Living through the Depression does that to you, I guess. My mom's the same way. And my aunt. And so is my sister. I didn't escape the "family tradition". But I'm trying to break that cycle. I've done much de-cluttering of my life the past couple of years. And, apparently, I'm ready to do more. I was so frustrated tonight, I was ready to fling open the front door and start setting things out on the lawn for passers-by to remove from my life.

I often read, and sometimes quote, a guy named Joshua, whom I've never met and probably never will. If you want to be challenged, touched, amused, and otherwise affected, read his blog. And if you want to be challenged, as I've been, to think about what's really important in life, read this . Kind of makes all that stuff in my basement seem pretty icky and...well, NON-essential. I'm ready for this suffocation to end. I'm ready to start setting myself free of them so I can truly be free. If I spend all of my time worrying about/thinking about my possessions, how does that line up with Scripture? Ummm...it doesn't. Bottom line.

As for that wireless router and card--well, I'm online right now and seem to be managing quite well with an ethernet cable instead of a wireless card, so I think I'm just going to sit back and be grateful for this bright yellow cord and not worry about what I don't have/can't find. And tomorrow, it's back to working on simplifying/paring down. I need to have space to breathe again.

REALLY good stuff from Joshua: All of the non-essentials are nice to have, but are not necessary for living. When I start thinking that I can’t live without any of those items, that’s when I have to really reevaluate my priorities. Because if I don’t have them, tomorrow is still going to happen. Tomorrow will still come. If I lose something, it’s fine. Tomorrow will still come. If something gets stolen, it’s ok. If I or someone else breaks something, life will continue. We will be ok.

OK Go - Here It Goes Again

THE single-most addictive video I've ever watched. Or maybe it just doesn't take much to fascinate me...

"Good stuff" from Billy Sprague...

I found this while cleaning out some files this morning...thought I'd share.

I don’t know how much or which prayers influence or change God’s mind. I am aware that the Bible says “The Lord is near. Do no be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God…” Perhaps, as CS Lewis maintained, prayer may have more to do with influencing me than God anyway.

I still pray for traveling mercies when a friend leaves on a trip. I pray for troubled marriages to be mended. Some of them are, and some end in divorce. In that event we pray for their kids, or “Dear God, don’t let their wounds be anchors they have to drag along. Turn them to teachers and treasures they can carry with them.”

Prayer is a bulletin board where I post memos to the Almighty. It is not a chess game where I negotiate to get God to see or do things my way. He knows how it looks through my eyes. He knows how to manage a universe. Prayer isn’t a way to see things like He does. It’s a refuge. An oasis of spiritual life. When I don’t go there, I dry up. And brown. Like my yard.

I don’t go very long without water. Sometimes, though, I neglect or avoid prayer deliberately, like ignoring my wife or a friend because of an issue I don’t want to face. But the restless, unnatural isolation of life as a lone ranger draws me back like a thirst. A thirst for intimacy, I suppose. For nearness, acceptance, consolation. Sometimes in prayer, the lightness and calm euphoria return.

The longer I live, the shorter my prayers become. At least the spoken part. Sometimes it’s just stargazing and saying “Thanks for the evening, it was heavenly.” Prayer becomes listening more than petitioning. It is like sitting by a stream. Watching the movement. Unable to read the hieroglyphic of light on the surface, but consoled by it nonetheless. “I pour out my heart like water” the prophet Jeremiah said. Sometimes in tears. Sometimes in anger or confusion. Often in gratitude. Often in silence. Always in longing. I wait. The river of God bends toward me. Or I am moved toward it—toward the presence of God. Whenever this happens, the current carries me. To deep, still water. And I green.

Walking in Memph...uhh, Fairfield

(I have a feeling this may get random...be forewarned!)

I wear a copper pendant around my neck that has "Choose Your Life" engraved on it. It was a birthday gift to myself...a little reminder that I've spent most of the past 43 years allowing others to choose, or at least heavily influence, my life for me. Time to step up to the plate, make the choices...and, oh yes, assume the responsibility for those choices.

So, I choose my life. What does that mean? I choose to lose 20 pounds. I choose the hairstyle (and color!) that *I* like. I choose to become a fairy princess. Well...maybe not. ;-) I choose to eat a big bowl of strawberry trifle right before I go to bed and NOT feel guilty about it. (Somehow that doesn't seem to go along with the whole "lose 20 pounds thing, though...oh, well!) On my weight loss chart, I've written "Choose your life; LIVE your choices" at the top as a reminder that the choices are fine, but until I actually step into them and live them out, they're not worth a whole lot. I look at that chart every day...and see the same 3 pounds disappearing, then reappearing as I make choices to eat healthily or not.

It's also a rather grim reminder to me that I committed, when I started the diet thing, to actually start walking as well. That was over a month ago. I wake up every morning and think "I should get up and walk today", but then I roll over and steal another 30 minutes of sleep...and break my commitment yet again. But, tonight I dug through the closet for my walking shoes...and I walked. Only for about 20 minutes, but it was a start. Living a choice. Will I choose to live it tomorrow?

The walk itself was a bit interesting. I haven't had new glasses in over 2 years and I'm feeling it more desperately every day. The lenses are scratched and my vision has changed enough that I'm to the point I almost see better without the glasses than with them--a sad state of affairs! Because of the scarring from my bout with optic neuritis, I also see in 2 different colors(one eye sees pinker--gives "looking at the world through rose-colored glasses" a whole new slant!!) and (hard to explain) almost 2 different "places"--like one of those "fractured" pieces of artwork where two pictures are sliced up and intermingled and kinda wavy...it's a weird sensation. And it's worse at night. So, there I am, walking down dark sidewalks, trying to determine if I'm seeing real "hills and valleys" in the concrete or if it's just my odd way of seeing the world.

And, I was meandering through some territory I hadn't seen from a walker's viewpoint for...over 30 years, I guess--the same street my sister and I used to walk down after school every day. That brought back some grade school memories! Much has changed, much has remained the same--isn't that just like life in general?

When we were young, one of the houses had HUGE evergreens covering every inch of the front, except for a tiny little opening for the narrow sidwalk leading to the front door--the shrubs are gone now and the house is a beautiful little jewel...how sad that it was hidden all those years. Down the block, I stood on the bridge where my first "crush" (through a mediator, of course!) told me that he liked me--and I watched the water sparkle in the dim glow of the streetlight. Life changes. Life stays the same.

It's sometimes good to revisit old "stuff" from a fresh, more mature perspective. It's sometimes good to walk through life, instead of always speeding down the street at a breakneck pace. And, it's sometimes good to stop and smell the flowers and listen to the water gurgling over the rocks and pet the cat that jumps out at you from behind the bridge. I'm glad I chose, at least for one night, to slow down a little.

HOW have I missed this until now?!

Proving I'm a geek...if anyone had doubts. ;-)

Language Log

Chasing Mississippi

(If you're a Dave Barnes fan, you'll recognize that title. If not...it's okay, because this has absolutely nothing to do with Dave Barnes, anyway.) :-)

Chasing Mississippi. Gulfport, actually. 554 Camp Avenue to be precise. God's Katrina Kitchen. Maybe I'm chasing God (I hope so) and think he's camping there for awhile. Actually, I know he is. And I want to be camping there with him.

So, I spent my third week on the Gulf Coast (my second week at GKK) April 21-28. I can't pinpoint a handful, or even one, "spectacular" thing that happened, but it was one of the most incredible, life-changing experiences I've ever had. And life-changing in a deeply personal way...even if I tried, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have the words to describe what's "different" in me now. I just know it...and God knows it...and that's enough for now.

I couldn't have asked for a better bunch of people to spend a week with. There were several of us that really bonded immediately--we stayed up late every night (all night one night), talking about "life, the universe and everything". We talked, we listened, we bickered, we cried, we laughed. A lot. Real "community". REAL "family".

There's SO much need in the Gulfport area...there are still 30000 people who are not back in their homes. There are over 300 work projects on the GKK list that haven't even been touched yet...and funding has slacked off as people assume that things are back to "normal" and quit giving. The beachfront, except for where the casinos/hotels have been rebuilt, still mostly looks like a bombed-out war zone. Homeless people are living under the pier because there are no shelters. The suicide rate has skyrocketed lately, because people are past the point of desperation and just can't handle it anymore. FEMA has granted everyone another six months to stay in their trailers, but they're saying September is IT. If you don't have anywhere to go, too bad. Your taxpayer dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen.

My heart is broken for these people. It's so easy to feel overwhelmed when you look at the enormous need in the area, but when you break it down and look at the individuals...they're people just like you and me. Other cells in the body of Christ. People who, before Katrina, were living lives similar to mine. My mom asked me if there's really any use in me continuing to go down to work if nothing is changing, but things ARE changing...slowly, family by family, person by person. They are the starfish being thrown back in the water--and I have to do my part. I may not be able to rebuild houses, but I can make a mean beef stroganoff and banana pudding and I can listen and smile and hug and love. I can help mend hearts. I can be the hands and feet and voice of Jesus.

It was my intention to go to Montana for a vacation this summer. Instead, I'm going be camping with God and his people (and at least a million mosquitos) at 544 Camp Avenue, Gulfport, Mississippi. And I don't think I'm going to miss Montana at all.

Actually...

...let me quote a little from the link in my previous post. This is seriously good stuff. From "Love in the Key of Longbrake"--one of the best blogs I've read.

I think there’s a reason why Jesus said Don’t judge, or you’ll be judged. Forgive, and you’ll be forgiven. It’s terribly easy for me to judge people, especially those that I don’t know. Most of it probably comes out of pride or insecuritiesHe’s going too slow. She’s so loud. They are in everyone’s way. She’s rich and she knows it. If he would just have some self respect. Why does she dress like that? He’s always talking.

But everyone has a story. Everyone has a past. Everybody has been shaped by something. One parent. No parents. Economic situation. Rape. Culture. Orphaned. Pain. Struggle. Lack of pain and struggle. Death. Divorce. Privilege. Popularity. People are shaped by situations and the people that surround them.

Everyone has a story.

And when you know someone’s story, it changes everything, doesn’t it? Your friends who act certain ways, ways which would annoy you if they were from a stranger, are given grace because you know them. You understand them. He acts that way because of this. And she does those things because of that. You understand. Everyone who knows them understands.

It’s the strangers, though…

When we come to the realization that everyone has a story, it changes how we treat people. When you see a man on a plane being abnormally loud, you know that he is that way because of something in his past, and that thing most likely isn’t his fault. Or maybe it is. Either way, there’s a story, and because there’s a story, there is grace.

And if I went through every day with this mentality, would it change me? Would I act differently? Would people perceive me to be someone new? Someone different?

And what if an entire community embraced this idea? I think it might change the world.

I want to be part of that kind of community--how about you?

I was reminded of this yesterday when I was on a plane, coming home from Dallas. There was an older lady sitting in an aisle seat a couple of rows ahead of me. Before the plane took off, she passed out. Fell over forwards and was kind of dangling in midair. The woman sitting beside her? She turned her head the other way and ignored her. My seatmate summoned the flight attendant to check on the woman. They ended up moving her to a window seat where she had somewhere she could lean and the flight attendant asked the woman now sitting next to her to keep an eye on her--and she agreed to do so.

I couldn't see her from where I was sitting, but when we landed and I stood up, the poor lady was passed out again...doubled over, head hanging down between her legs. Her seatmate who had agreed to watch over her? She got up, grabbed her bags and marched down the aisle out of the plane--didn't even bother to try to rouse her. I was actually afraid she was dead until I saw her move her arm. The kind flight attendant helped her out of the plane and into a wheelchair--the woman was so frail, her ankles were not much bigger than my wrists--she was obviously seriously ill. The general consensus of those sitting around her was that she was drunk (possible, of course)...and therefore should be ignored and allowed to flop around like a ragdoll while she was unconscious.

What if she WAS intoxicated? What's her story? Maybe she has cancer and the treatments make her so ill, the only way she can deal with it is to medicate it with alcohol. Maybe she's so terrified of flying, it's the only way she'll get on a plane. Maybe she wasn't drunk at all and is just so sick from whatever is obviously wasting her body away to nothing, she just doesn't have the energy to act "normal" (whatever that is). Does intoxication (or anything, really) negate our responsibility to show grace?

Read this...

http://www.thelongbrake.com/blog/2007/05/12/her-story-his-story/

I couldn't say it any better myself. So, I won't even try. Just read it.

My heart....

...is here:

www.godskatrinakitchen.org

I'm so excited!!

I now owe less than $1800 on my Jeep!! Seems like I've been paying on it forever--well, I HAVE actually been making car payments forever, because I've always traded the vehicle I had as soon as I made the last payment. I'm keeping my little cactus green Liberty--partly because it's a Renegade like me and mostly because I still love it today as much as I did the day I bought it. Just a few more payments and it's mine, ALL MINE! It's good to see a little more light at the end of the "debt-free" tunnel.

It doesn't take much to amuse me...

I currently have a total of 912 songs on my IPod. For whatever reason (I'm a little OCD at times), I decided recently to listen to EVERY song in alphabetical order. Fortunately, I had a 10 1/2 hour drive to and from Mississippi last week...you can listen to a lot of music when you're on the road that long.

So, I'm on the way home, with my playlist somewhere in the 800s. As I crossed the Mississippi/Tennessee state line, at the very second that I passed the "Memphis City Limit" sign, the song "Walking In Memphis" started playing and I started laughing. I mean, out of 912 songs, what's the possibility of that happening? (If you're a probability and statistics person, you can figure it out if you'd like and let me know.) :-)

God has a great sense of humor--I'm glad he knows what makes me laugh...and I'm glad he chooses to randomly toss those little things in my path at times when I need a good laugh. I'd spent the first 3 hours of my drive home in tears, so I needed that.

My history is in the MAKING...

Ever have one of those spine-tingling, goosebump-producing moments where you know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that God is PRESENT and, more than just present, speaking directly to you in a very personal way? I had one of those moments last night. Mind you, I don't believe that God lives in the goosebumps, but sometimes His presence is just so sudden and real and strong, it's like that ozonish SIZZLE in the air after a too-near lightning strike--you can hear Him, you can feel Him, you can almost taste Him...and you feel like your hair is standing on end and you might pass out from the way it takes your breath away.

I went to see Matthew West in concert last night. He's just a great, all-around nice guy. And I really like his music (obviously, or I wouldn't be plunking down money for a ticket). One of his recent songs is called "History" and it's one of my favorites--I really like the lyrics, because they talk about "the day that Love made history"...the love that broke the chains, gave you the chance to walk away from your past sins and be completely free.

When he started the set-up to this song last night, though, something happened. I was kind of distracted by the group of kids in front of me and was only half-listening until I started to feel that "sizzle" thing starting. I didn't hear an audible voice (still waiting for that!!), but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had just whispered "THIS is important and it's for you, so pay attention!" All I heard Matthew West say was "Your history is in the making." In the MAKING. Lightning bolt. I understood it perfectly.

My history, my entire history, my entire life, was there at the beginning--at the "making" of me. God knew the number of my days, the number of hairs on my head, the number of tears that would fall from my eyes...and the sound of my laughter. He knew where I would live, the choices I would make, and the lives that would entertwine with mine. My life--my "history"--was contained in that first single cell that was "me"...just like the tiny seed that holds everything needed to one day become an apple tree loaded with fruit, I've always held somewhere inside of me the inherent characteristics that God put in me to become what He planned for me to be. Me...my history...was there at my making. In my making. I lack for nothing. His plan is perfect.

God's impeccable attention to detail...

WHY am I still amazed when things like this happen? You'd think by now I would be accustomed to those so-called "coincidences" that seem to happen just when I need them. But maybe that's a really good thing...I kind of like being surprised by God now and then. So, here's the story...

I've recently re-connected with a very old and very dear friend with whom I went to high school (one of the perks of being on the *insert choking sound here* 25th class reunion committee). We were co-workers in my post-college factory-work days...until he left small-town America to pursue a military career. Of course, when you're re-connecting with someone with whom you've been out of touch for 20 years, you have to play a lot of "catch-up". And, for me, that means re-living some of the details of a ten-year chapter in my life that I consider, for the most part, to be closed. But, for someone who knew me 20 years ago to understand why I am the "who" I am today (a VERY different person), it's important to me that they see at least the bare bones of the process.

Looking at the process, however, always makes me start analyzing things again--asking those "what if?" questions for which I simply have NO answers. But I still ask them. And then I get upset with myself for not having the answers that I know aren't there. Go figure.

Someone told me a few weeks ago, half-apologetically, that he'd almost forgotten that I'd ever been married--honestly, I sometimes forget it myself. Well, maybe not "forget", but I don't dwell on it. It IS primarily a closed chapter...one of those "back-story" things that was fundamental in shaping my character into the person I am today, but not actively part of the story I'm now living. But once in awhile, it jumps to the forefront for whatever reason, and I deal with it and move on. So, it's jumped to the forefront, I'm asking the same old questions again, wondering what I might have done differently, and...fast-forward to tonight:

I'm cleaning out the desk I inherited from my Gram. Don't ask me why--there was no practical purpose for it, except I opened a drawer to shove some photos in and it was messy and I started a drawer-by-drawer reorganization. I pulled a handful of papers out of one of the drawers and found, at the very bottom, a folded-up sheet of notebook paper, covered in familiar writing. It was a letter from my step-daughter, written to her dad, right before he and I separated, begging him to "SEE" me (her words)...to recognize me for the amazing treasure I was and to stop putting other things (music, work, friends, tv, etc.) before our marriage. It was also a letter from God to me. Sometimes it's just good to hear Him say "see, I AM listening and here's your answer".

"Ouch!!"--Courtesy of Derek Webb

Thanks, Derek. I love getting sliced up. Especially by a sarcastic wordsmith like you. Nice to know that someone's portion of the spiritual gift of sarcasm is bigger than mine. ;-)

Whaddya think? Can people recognize Christ in us without (or in spite of!) it being plastered all over our chests in some corny rip-off of a candy bar or toothpaste or trendy store slogan? Can the testimony of our lives be contained in a box of Testa-Mints? God help us. God help me.


T-Shirts (What We Should Be Known For)
words and music by derek webb

they'll know us by the t-shirts that we wear
they'll know us by the way we point and stare
at anyone whose sin looks worse than ours
who cannot hide the scars of this curse that we all bare

they’ll know us by our picket lines and signs
they’ll know us by the pride we hide behind
like anyone on earth is living right
and isn’t that why Jesus died
not to make us think we’re right

chorus
when love, love, love
is what we should be known for
love, love, love
it’s the how and it’s the why
we live and breathe and we die

they’ll know us by reasons we divide
and how we can’t seem to unify
because we’ve gotta sing songs a certain style
or we’ll walk right down that aisle
and just leave ‘em all behind

they’ll know us by the billboards that we make
just turning God’s words to cheap clichés
says “what part of murder don’t you understand?”
but we hate our fellow man
and point a finger at his grave

they'll know us by the t-shirts that we wear
they'll know us by the way we point and stare
telling ‘em their sins are worse than ours
thinking we can hide our scars
beneath these t-shirts that we wear

A "moral" question...

So, say someone dear to you (a fellow believer) has done something "wrong"--either immoral, illegal, or just plain stupid...doesn't really matter--and they've asked you to bail them out of the situation. They've dug themselves in so deep that the only way they're going to get out of it is take one more step in the process of immorality/illegality/stupidity, with YOU as their facilitator. There's light at the end of the tunnel and you can see the hope of it, but it's a one-way tunnel and there's no back-tracking the way they came in.

You have the ability to do the "digging out" for them. What do you do? Does yet another "wrong" make a lot of "right"? If you choose to NOT do it, what kind of blood does that potentially put on your hands? Or does it put anything at all on your hands, since this was their mess to begin with? What does the whole "body of Christ" concept say here? If we are truly operating as a BODY, how much of this mess is MY mess as well? How much can we separate/compartmentalize--and potentially justify away--our responsibility to care for our "body"?

And where (if, indeed, there IS this point...and I believe there is somewhere) do you draw the line and say "no more"? How do you know when you just have to say "I'm sorry", close your eyes, shed your tears, and let them fall? I'm not sure how to know if you're walking close enough to God to hear his voice if he says "stop NOW". I guess I'm afraid of getting so sucked into someone else's mess that I'm not going to be able to discern God's voice because my compassion has clogged up my ears.

Thoughts???

Stranger in a not-so-strange land...

So, I'm back from my little hiatus. And wishing I was, as I said in my last post, warm. It was bad enough to leave Miami with temps in the 80s and fly into St. Louis where it was 21, but...I'm just cold. Heart-cold. Soul-cold.

I feel like Rip Van Winkle...somewhere, I must have fallen asleep and missed something crucial. The world has changed and I've awakened from a crazy dream in which life has been going on "normally", only to find that everything familiar is not...and everyone familiar is not. The thing is, I just don't know when I fell asleep. Last week? Last month? Last year?

It's weird, because in some ways, it was much easier for me to be a stranger in a strange place--it was okay for me to feel out of place in Miami Beach, because I WAS out of place, but it was a comfortable kind of being out-of-place...getting accustomed to new surroundings, gradually getting to know the sights and sounds and becoming familiar with people and places. It's NOT okay for me to be a stranger at home. But here I am.

I think I'd like to go back to the dream now, please. And I'll take some sunshine along with it.

Brief hiatus...

...I'll be back. When I get warm. :-)

Read the book...

...do NOT wait for the movie.

And be prepared for some serious butt-kicking, if you're sincerely seeking a way to TRULY live the "real" gospel today...if you're tired of church being "business" (BIG business at times)-as-usual.

The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne.

Run, do not walk. Buy it, borrow it, (please don't steal it, though--I'll loan you my copy if you're that desperate!) and READ it. And then maybe we can talk about what it means to live it...and how our attachments to our "stuff" (our idols? Ouch!) prevents us from functioning as God has always intended the Body of Christ to function.

Being sick sucks...

...and being sick on a Saturday especially sucks. Most of the people in my office have been sick this week and half of them ended up going home early one day or another. My day to get sick, of course, was Friday and I had so much to do, I simply refused to give up and leave early, even though I felt HORRIBLE. I stuck it out--and paid the price today. I have spent the entire day, minus a few times of getting up to refill my coffee cup, take some ibuprofen, go to the bathroom, and scrounge for food (I made wise use of my time and multi-tasked every time!), lying on the couch, barely able to breathe, head pounding, muscles aching--all that lovely stuff that comes with a really bad cold. All I can say is "thank God for NetFlix and my couch". And my mom and her potato soup. :-)

I'm feeling better. I usually get sick once a year and I'm claiming this as my "one time" and not feeling too disturbed over it. But...it really annoys me that I had to waste a Saturday, when I could have taken a sick day during the week and still had Saturday to enjoy. I had a list of things I needed to get done today (vacuum up cat hair, do my laundry, pay bills, etc.) and I just couldn't manage to do any of it. I DID, however, manage to catch up on my blog reading, so I guess there's always a silver lining, eh?!

And, of course, I'm irritated for feeling sorry for myself--if all I have is a little cold, I am truly blessed. I have friends right now who are facing serious stuff--some of them are dealing with life-threatening illnesses...and here I am griping about a snotty nose. I got some much-needed rest today and I'm just going to try to be grateful for that and forget about the feeling sorry for myself junk. A hot shower and fresh jammies have worked wonders...and my fever is gone, so it's been a good day!

"Lady in the Water"--a review of sorts...and other stuff

Well...I watched this movie tonight. I am a die-hard M. Night Shyamalan fan and somehow didn't really believe (no matter what I'd been told) that I should prepare to be disappointed by this film. Sometimes you should trust your friends. I was disappointed. Frankly, I hated the movie. The only thing that kept me watching to the end was the unrealized hope that somehow, somewhere, Mr. Shyamalan would redeem himself and show some brilliance. Bleahhhh.

However, I DID watch all the miscellaneous "special feature" stuff and was pleasantly surprised. The man truly IS a genius, even if I'm not catching the drift of his "geniusness" in this movie. Maybe it's just because I'm sick and there's too much...well, nasty stuff, clogging up my head right now for me to see past the surface into the murky waters (ha!) of this movie. I found it very interesting, however, to hear Shyamalan talk about the meaning behind the movie--again and again, he (and other cast/production members) emphasized that things (and people) are not always what they seem...you peg someone as what you think they are (their role in life, that is) and they turn out, in the end, to have a different role than what we expect.

That really caught my attention, because I've been thinking a lot lately about the life roles we (or even other people) put ourselves in...and the reasonings behind those reasons. Do we become what we think people expect us to become? Do we abandon the purposes for which we are created just because we're trying to "fit in" to society's expectations? Someone else's "script"? Someone told me yesterday that he's been living his entire life, trying to anticipate what other people expect him to be, so he can "become" that person when dealing with them, instead of being himself. He's tired of playing all the parts...and is just now getting a glimpse of who he "really" is--and his may not be a personality that will mesh with the masses, but if it's who God created him to be, what's more important?

And then I turn my eyes to myself. Am I being true to the heart God created in me? In some ways, yes, but in many ways, no. I wonder, almost on a daily basis, what's really important about staying in my job another 3 years just so I can have free insurance and a "full" (don't even get me started on that...) pension when I retire. The practical nature in me says it's "only" 3 years, but I'm not even guaranteed tomorrow.

I hope that, if God speaks specifically to me next week and tells me to quit my job and go to a far-flung (or even not so far-flung) mission field, I would hear and be obedient, but what if it's not even as "big" as that? What if one of my secrets is I would REALLY like to be an airline flight attendant? (Not so secret anymore, eh?!) What if that's truly part of the nature God created in me when He first breathed life and spirit in me? What if the servant's heart He put in me could best be served by handing out pretzels and Diet Coke on a plane flying over the fruited plains?

Hmmm.

Does Anybody Hear Her?

She is running
A hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction
She is trying
But the canyon's ever widening in the depths of her cold heart
So she sets out on another misadventure just to find
She's another two years older and she's three more steps behind

Does anybody hear her
Can anybody see
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her

Can anybody see
She is yearning
For shelter and affection that she never found at home
She is searching
For a hero to ride in
To ride in and save the day
And in walks her prince charming and he knows just what to say
Momentary lapse of reason and she gives herself away
If judgment looms under every steeple
If lofty glances from lofty people
Can't see past her scarlet letter
And we never even met her

Does anybody hear her
Can anybody see
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her

~~Mark Hall, Casting Crowns

Quoting...

Love without courage and wisdom is sentimentality, as with the ordinary church member. Courage without love and wisdom is foolhardiness, as with the ordinary soldier. Wisdom without love and courage is cowardice, as with the ordinary intellectual. But the one who has love, courage, and wisdom moves the world. ~~Ammon Hennacy

God, grant me all three. A double shot, please. I do NOT want to be ordinary.

Open for discussion--the subject of "possibility"...

I had an interesting conversation of sorts this morning. "Of sorts", because it started out with a text message, was relatively brief and consisted mostly of me listening. (Which is a good thing for me to do sometimes, but doesn't always lend itself too well to the whole "conversation" thing.)

The subject matter: Emily Dickinson's poem #657, which begins:

I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors -

Lately, I've noticed that first line a lot--one of my friends uses it as her email signature, I have a plaque with the phrase printed on it and it crops up quite a bit in motivational context. I've enjoyed seeing my favorite poet get some widespread, modern-day exposure.

So...in a little poetry-quoting exchange this morning, I text-messaged that line to a fellow thinker-of-a-lot-of-things...and got a whole lot more than poetry in return. And I've been ruminating (I mean "pondering"--did you know it also means "chewing cud"?) on it all day. I should have been taking notes, because I've taken it apart and examined it so much that I can't put it back together in its original packaging, but...he basically told me that, if I choose to "dwell in possibility", I'm not moving purposefully in any direction--I'm living in a state of "anything can happen" (which is, in itself, entirely true), but if I sit there all my life waiting for the possibility of anything to happen, I'm...well, I'm missing it.

God tells me to "go", "be", "do", "tell", "work"...and those are all actions. (He also tells me to "wait", but my sense is that this is an action, too, not a position of lying down and doing nothing.) I have some fear that I HAVE "missed it" to some extent--that I have such huge hope that anything CAN happen that, in some areas of my life, I've focused more on the dreaming about possibilities and less on the actions required to see A dream become reality.

In all honesty, from my studying the commentaries of those who are more expert on Miss Emily's poems than I am, I think the general population has misinterpreted the meaning of this poem and appropriated one line out of context for its own use (because it DOES sound good!), so I'm not really asking for commentary about the poem itself, unless, of course, you feel particularly constrained to do so!

I AM interested in hearing some other viewpoints/interpretations on the whole "dwelling" thing. How do we move past the possibility into reality? Is that scary for anyone else? It is for me.

It'll do for now...

At least, it's not nauseating Pepto Pink! It's also not the wintry atmosphere I had envisioned, but maybe I need a bit of warmth, since I'm currently chilled to the bone and wishing for a warmer climate (Florida in 30 days--yay!!)

I WAS excited about the snow today...so excited, in fact, that I loudly proclaimed "It's SNOWING!!" to everyone in our lobby this morning...not that any of them really cared, I think, nor did they particularly care to see me excitedly jumping up and down, alternating between smiling over the snow and wincing when my poor, still-tender feet hit the ground, but I proclaimed, jumped, and winced nonetheless. Ah, well...both the snow and the pain were short-lived. As was the Pepto-Bismol Pink background (long and winding road, but I eventually made it back to the original subject matter).

I don't like pink...

...but I was tired of the old autumnal colors. Can't find anything really "wintry" that I like--actually don't really like ANY of these templates, but I don't know how to import a template from somewhere else. I found one awhile back that I LOVED and couldn't figure out how to make it work, so I just gave up and went with one of the boring ones on here.

Can someone rescue me from this sea of Pepto-Bismol-ish pink?

"I have a brain cloud"...

If you're a Joe Vs. the Volcano fan, you'll recognize that line. You should, anyway. It's the disease that Joe is "diagnosed" with that makes him throw all caution to the wind and go live his life with reckless abandon.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the type of brain cloud I'm blessed with at the moment. I honestly feel like there's a dense blanket of fog in my head and it's preventing me from thinking as "clearily" (one of my favorite recently-created words) as I should. I told a friend the other night that I feel like I'm right on the edge of truly "getting" something really big and life-changing, but I just can't quite seem to step into it. It's like it's waiting for me around a corner, but I haven't gotten to the corner yet. And, on top of that, I'm just tired. Emotionally drained, actually, which, in turn, physically drains me...and adds to that fog in my head.

I'm not big on making "resolutions" for the new year and, really, not even all that much in favor of the whole big "to do" about New Year's Eve--I mean, it's one minute's difference on the clock, for heaven's sake! Did everything REALLY change all that much, just because a minute passed? Is there really that much to celebrate because we're now in 2007, instead of 2006? Is the world all different now, somehow washed clean and brand-new? (I think I'm going somewhere with this, but it's mostly just stream-of-consciousness rambling...)

I suppose there's not one of us who couldn't use a "new start" now and then, of course. I ended 2006 in a stupid flurry of hurting people dear to me--not intentionally at all, but my insensitivity, self-defensiveness, lack of faith and just plain obtuseness put me in prime position for wounding those I love. And I did a good job of it. So, I'd say a "new start" is a good idea for me. Not because the calendar has a new number on it, but just because I need to quit acting stupid. Every minute is precious...and an opportunity for a new start. Thank God for His grace...immeasurable gift it is, indeed.

Maybe that will lift some of the cloud, eh?

Thanks, Sara Groves and Os Hillman...

I'm borrowing their words today...trying to find my own again. I want to go into the land of Judah, but I'm not finding the road. Anyone have a map?

Cave of Adullum--Sara Groves
Speak to me, speak to me in my cave of Adullam.
Reach to me, reach to me. No one cares for my soul.
I thought I saw your kingdom, but it's not going to happen
like I thought it would happen. .
Remind me, remind me of the vision you gave me.
Remind me, remind me what anointing oil is for.
I need to know you're near me.
I need to know you are holding me just as closely .
Chorus: as the day you took my life and gave me a vision,
as the day you poured the oil and gave me a dream.
I can't believe this is happening.
How does a shepherd become a king?


Coming Out of the Stronghold, by Os Hillman

..."Do not stay in the stronghold. Go into the land of Judah"... - 1 Samuel 22:5

David and his fighting men had been hiding in the cave of Adullam. He was fleeing Saul. Many of life's down-and-out had come and joined David's army. David was content to stay in the stronghold of safety. Then, God's prophet came to David and told him that he must leave the stronghold and go into the land of Judah.

When life beats down on us and we get to the place where we want to hide in a cave, God often places people around us who prod us into moving in the right direction. He does not want us to remain in the place of discouragement. He wants us to move into the land of "praise." Judah means "praise."

I recall when I went through a very difficult time. It seemed to drag on and on with no change until finally I wanted to retreat to a cave and forget pressing on. It was a great time of discouragement. A godly man came to me and said, "You must keep moving! There are too many who are depending on you in the Kingdom." I didn't totally understand what he meant at the time. Now I know he was saying that God is preparing each of us to be the vessel He wants to use in the life of another person, but we will never be that vessel if we give up and hide in our cave of discouragement. Not only must we keep moving, we must move into a new realm. Our attitude must move from discouragement to praise. It is when we move past discouragement to praise that we begin living above our problems. Make a decision today to go into the land of Judah.

Living this life (la vida loca?)....

Somehow (don't ask, I can't explain it), this song just seems to express the essence of all I'm feeling right now...there's much inside me that I just can't clearly enunciate (me, who rarely lacks for words--imagine that!!)--every time I open my mouth to talk about it, the words stumble all over themselves and make no sense even to me, so I'm sure they make no sense to anyone else.

Ready to spread my little wings...whether you see me or not.

Live This Life(Big Kenny/John Rich)

Met a man on the street last night
Said his name was Jesus
Met a man on the street last night
Thought he was crazy till I watched him heal a blind man
Watched him heal a blind man now I see yeah

I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore
Then I will walk yes I will walk
With patience through that open door
I have no fears, angels follow me wherever I may go
I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore

Met a girl in a chair with wheels
But no one else would see her
Met a girl in a chair with wheels
Everyone was so afraid
To even look down on her
And she just spread her little wings and flew away yeah

I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore
Then I will walk yes I will walk
With patience through that open doorI have no fears,
angels follow me wherever I may go
I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore
Live here anymore

Met a kid on a bridge last night
Contemplating freedom
Met a kid on a bridge last night
And he said
I'm tired of this maddening life
And I'm ready to go meet Jesus
I said he's a friend of mine
Met him just last night
And it's alright
Yeah it's all right
Yeah

I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore
Then I will walk yes I will walk
With patience through that open door
I have no fears, angels follow me wherever I may go
I live this life until this life won't let me live here anymore
Live here anymore

Met a man on the street last night
Said his name was Jesus
Met a man on the street last night

Totally random exciting news!!

My mom just called to tell me that a Qdoba is opening in Evansville! In case you haven't figured it out yet, the news is a wonderful early Christmas present for me. The noodle place on Burkhardt (can't remember the real name...I call it "Oodles of Noodles") is closed and the owners have purchased a Qdoba franchise--not sure how soon it will be opening, but I'll be monitoring the progress VERY closely. :-)

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming...

Remembering their names...

I've just returned from my second trip this year to the Katrina-ravaged Gulfport, MS area. I'm still overwhelmed...not only by what I saw, but also by what God spoke to me this week. I'm still sorting it all out and writing it down always seems the best way for my "sorting process" to work, so...that's what I'm going to do. :-) It may be a bit muddled, because it's definitely NOT sorted yet!

I've recently become a fan of the new Battlestar Galactica series and one episode in particular had a profound effect on me--one of the characters made a statement early in the episode about not being able to remember the names of all their fallen fighter pilots and not really thinking it was important because they were gone, but at the end, she stands and honors their memory by reciting their names. That spoke strongly to me, because I had just recently wandered around a VERY old cemetery, looking at the names of long-dead relatives and strangers, and had a conversation about who would remember me...and how I would be remembered when all that remained of my earthly life was nothing more than a name on a tombstone.

The people I met this week aren't just "Katrina survivors" or "homeless men" or "FEMA trailer park residents" or "God's Katrina Kitchen volunteers"--they are individuals, fearfully and wonderfully made, loved and known by the same God who made, loves and knows me. They have faces and lives and stories that are, for the most part, forgotten by the media and the ignorant who don't have a clue about the magnitude of destruction and believe that everyone's gone back to "normal" life (BIG "issue" with me that you'll probably hear more about later, but that's not the story for today). I want to remember those names. And their stories.

Neil: He came to Gulfport from Florida because he heard there were construction jobs paying good money. He worked for a contractor for a week, sleeping on the guy's couch because he had nowhere else to go. The contractor couldn't/wouldn't pay him for the work he'd done and Neil refused to continue to work without being paid, so consequently, he no longer had a place to stay. Someone directed him to God's Katrina Kitchen on Wednesday...he hadn't eaten for two days. I fed him lunch. And then dinner. And he stayed for our group's worship service that night. He wanted to work as a volunteer for GKK for a place to stay and hot meals. He owns a bicycle, the clothes he's wearing, and carries a garbage bag of personal items. He sleeps in a deep ditch near GKK. (The nighttime temperatures were around 20-30 degrees each night we were there, btw.) He is tired and discouraged and wonders where God is in all that's happened to him.

Terry: Originally from Michigan, he came to Mississippi from Colorado, where he sold souvenir rocks mounted on wooden plaques (he gave me two of them because I was his friend). He's staying with friends in an apartment near GKK and got a job Friday doing concrete work. He had asked me earlier in the week to ask God to help him find a job, because he thought God probably listened to me more than He listened to him.

Kevin: He lives in Pass Christian and was a part-time volunteer at GKK before the move to Gulfport. I met him Wednesday--he told me that he had just ridden his bike from about 20 minutes west of Pass Christian (at least ten miles) and was looking for a job. When he came in Friday, he had gotten a job at a Subway down the street. He also told me that he had missed breakfast that morning because his water (he lives in a FEMA trailer) had frozen--his space heater doesn't produce enough heat to keep the water pipes from freezing when the temperature drops into the 20s. He asked me if I liked poetry and produced a notebook of poems he had written--one was entitled "B-4" and was a list of things that had happened, both throughout the Bible and in his own personal life--ie, "before Katrina hit Pass Christian, etc..." and the last line of each stanza was "a way had already been made". Powerful stuff. His faith has carried him through some very rough times.

Otis: All I know of Otis is his name...his mental faculties are lacking so much that it was hard to get more than a few sensible words at a time out of him. He brought me a Bible one day, opened to the book of Jeremiah and asked me to read it to him. When I was finished, he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. He wanders in and out most of the day, talking to whomever will give him a few minutes, smiling at everyone, chattering to himself.

Steve: He's a cross-carrier...one of Arthur Blessit's "disciples", from California. He carries a 12' X 6' wooden cross on his shoulder, all across the country. When he came in Tuesday, he hadn't eaten for two days--some of our volunteers found him and brought him in for lunch. He came back that night for our worship service and I had the opportunity to quiz him--he's on a ten-year "mission" to tell people about Jesus by carrying the cross along highways and interstates and stopping to speak whenever someone gives him an opening.

Jeff: Born in Bossier City, he moved to Florida with his mom, then to Knoxville, then back to Florida, then to Gulfport to do construction work. I heard his entire life story as I waited in line for breakfast Thursday morning. He told me that he had been working construction in Gulfport, making good money, but blowing it all on drinking and drugs...knowing all the time that he wasn't living the way God would want him to live. He walked into GKK for lunch one day, felt God's presence and knew that he belonged there. He left the good-paying construction job, moved into one of the GKK bunkhouses and went to work as an unpaid volunteer on one of the work teams, started going to a 12-step recovery program, has been clean and sober almost 2 months and positively RADIATES Jesus all over the place.

I won't forget.

While you're waiting...

...for me to get home from Mississippi, go here: http://www.jdtkwcc.blogspot.com/ and read what Jacob has to say. (A forewarning: he has LOTS to say!! Must be why I like him...he reminds me of me!) I'll have to confess that I haven't read it all myself, but I will digest it all when I have the opportunity.

Preview of coming attractions...

I'm in the midst of preparing for Thanksgiving with my family/friends (I'm cooking--I'm so excited!) and have had NO time to sit down and de-muddle all the thoughts running in circles in my head. Rest assured, there are thoughts there...and some, even, that seem worth sharing.

God's shown me some really interesting things the past couple of weeks and I've enjoyed just standing back and watching as He's peeled some of the outer layers off some of the mysteries of life and allowed me to see that "real" life lurks just below the surface of what we often accept at face value--and we miss so much by doing that.

More later... :-)

Happy ?? Feet...

...it just ain't penguin!! ;-)

And THESE are the infamous blue booties, waiting to be draped in suede or covered in paint, glitter, shells, or macaroni!!

Well, I survived...

My feet are in that half-still-numb-from-anesthesia, half-painful state, I can barely keep my eyes open (and won't for very long!) and I'm still freezing, but I'm safely home and lying on my couch--and grateful to be here!

I'm sure I'll have plenty of time in the next couple of days to share all the thoughts that have been running through my head the last couple of days, but for now, I just wanted to say "thanks" to all of you who have prayed for me and encouraged me as I was preparing for surgery. I appreciate it...more than I can express in the few words I can manage to type right now. :-)

Stay tuned for more...

Racing against time...

...but I'm going to win!

For those of you unfamiliar with my feet (that would be most, if not all, of you I'm relatively certain!), this is their story--the abbreviated edition.

The bottom line is...I have to have surgery. On both feet. Relatively soon. It's minor surgery, at least, if anything involving incisions and chipping and drilling into bones can be called "minor"! I am NOT looking forward to this. My doctor told me that in the "best case scenario", I should take off work for three weeks to fully recuperate (NOT an option!), but he will allow me to return to work after at least three days, wearing those silly boot things.

The OTHER bottom line thing is...I'm going to Mississippi in December to do Katrina relief work (funny/not-so-funny sidebar here: I was at a meeting tonight and shared with some people that I was going to do Katrina relief work in December and one woman looked at me in disbelief and said "STILL? I can't believe it's taking so long." Obviously, SHE has not been to the Gulfport/Biloxi/Pass Christian war zone.)

At any rate, I'm in a race again time here. I need to have the surgery done before I go to Mississippi, because I'm probably going to be on my feet most of the day (I'll be cooking at God's Katrina Kitchen, helping prepare meals for the relief workers/residents of the area who still have no cooking facilities). If I don't have it done immediately, I won't have enough recovery time before the trip.

So, I'm having surgery Tuesday. It's done in the doctor's office, but he brings in an anesthetist and they put me OUT. I'm probably dreading that more than anything...I asked if I could just have a local and he told me that wasn't an option (I asked for that when I had my gallbladder removed, too--same answer!)

Good thing the fashion statement for this fall is...ANYTHING worn with foam boots, eh?! Should be fun trying to drive wearing those things. Can't wait. The GOOD thing is, post-recovery/post-foam boots, I'll be able to wear all of my shoes, instead of just the two pairs that don't cause excruciating pain every time I put them on (think Steve Martin's "Cruel Shoes" story).

The "grammar nazi" in me...

Actually, "spelling nazi" is probably more appropriate in this instance.

If anyone were to ask me my pet peeves, I probably couldn't come up with many off the top of my head, but, rest assured, I DO have them...and most of them probably have to do with grammar and spelling. (Nerd alert!!) One of the BIGGIES is one I see all the time...and it's one that, of course, will breeze right through a spell-check, because it's a "real" word. A real word that is, more often than not, unfortunately, used in place of the CORRECT real word.

And today, it was used by none other than the DIRECTOR of our agency, in an email that went out to literally HUNDREDS (maybe thousands) of people who all now know (silly me--they don't know, because most of them probably don't use the correct word, either!) that she doesn't have a clue. The word is "PIQUED". Not "PEAKED". She said she heard an interesting story that "peaked" her interest. Tell me how something PEAKS your interest...please tell me what that means. Will she never be any more excited about something than she was about this story? That's saying a lot, isn't it?

So says the dictionary:

pique /pik/ [peek] –verb (used with object)
1. to affect with sharp irritation and resentment, esp. by some wound to pride: She was greatly piqued when they refused her invitation.
2. to wound (the pride, vanity, etc.).
3. to excite (interest, curiosity, etc.): Her curiosity was piqued by the gossip.
4. to arouse an emotion or provoke to action: to pique someone to answer a challenge.

peak–verb (used without object)
14. to project in a peak.
15. to attain a peak of activity, development, popularity, etc.: The artist peaked in the 1950s.

The "J"s have it...

Totally random.

I was looking at my list of fellow "cracked pots" (NOT "crackpots"!) just now and realized I have a near-plethora of "J" people--Julie, Jon, Jim, Jacob. Kinda strange, eh?! Maybe I should start looking for some new friends in other parts of the alphabet... ;-)

So why, do you ask, are you "cracked pots"? (Thanks for asking.) I've lifted this analogy from Erin--I think she posted it as a comment here on my blog a couple of weeks ago, or maybe she posted it as a response to a comment I posted on HER blog...at any rate, she said we were all pots getting cracked so we could show more and more of His glory. I have this mental image of me as a rough, unglazed terra cotta jar with a candle glowing inside it...and God is that candle inside, chipping away, trying to break away enough of my hard, rough clay surface so that I will RADIATE with His love and people will want to draw near to bask in that warmth and light.

"Poiema" unveiled...

Blame it on Hersch...he asked what "poiema" means. ;-)

From Strong's: Word 4161. 1) that which has been made.2) a work. a) of the works of God as creator. Derived from Word 4160, "poieo". 1) to make
a) with the names of things made, to produce, construct, form, fashion, etc.
b) to be the authors of, the cause c) to make ready, to prepare...etc.

It's the word used in Ephesians 2:10--"We are His workmanship (poiema)". His creation. His handiwork. Something He has produced and made ready. Good stuff, eh?

That's the "technical" stuff. The personal story behind it is:

"Poiema" is the title of one of Michael Card's CDs from a few years ago (1994). Since I'm not a Greek scholar, that was my first exposure to the word. Being a "wordaholic", though, I DID go immediately and look up the meaning. :-)

One of the songs on the CD is called "Poem of Your Life". I'm trying to find the lyrics and, of course, can't. At the moment. I WILL find them and I'll post them, but for now, I'll just post part of the liner notes...some of his comments about the purpose behind the music.

''The Bible tells us that we are God's masterpieces (poiema in Greek); not only creatures, but His creations, His poems (Eph 2:10). We are living epistles (2 Cor 3:3). And so, our lives are meant to be listened to, because it is God who is speaking into and out of and through the symphony of the years, and the masterpiece of a lifetime. "

Being a writer/poet/musician sort, I LOVED the fact that, in a way, I, as God's created work, am a poem...my life is a poem, a song that He's written for the world to hear. And I might be a simple short, sweet (I hope!) song, but I'm also part of this huge, magnificent, overwhelmingly beautiful SYMPHONY that spans heaven and earth and all our lifetimes--my little part in the symphony may be just that (little), but when you're listening to an orchestra play, sometimes, above the trumpeting brass and the resonating drum, you hear the briefest, sweetest trill of a flute...and it outshines everything for a second. I want my life to sing His song...the song that He's put in me to sing. And I hope I'm not off-key...

THE cat...

Accountability matters...

So. I got called on something today. By someone for whom I care very much. Someone whom I respect. Someone whom I want to respect me...and my integrity.

This was one of those little "gray area" things...in all honesty, it was nothing illegal, sinful, or otherwise morally wrong (although I'm quite capable of all those things). But. It WAS questionable. And I was questioned. I have NEVER liked gray. I'm liking it even less these days.

I find myself talking a lot about accountability--mostly bemoaning the fact that I don't have the accountability in my life that I want to have. So, did it, then, feel good to be confronted? Nope. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.

But...someone held me accountable. Made me take a long, hard look at a foolish choice and the resulting consequences. Made me understand how others are sometimes hurt by my rash decisions. And I can honestly say "thanks".

"The God of the Valley"

From Os Hillman's "Today God is First" daily e-devotional for today....

...God often gives us a picture of our future so that we will remember this picture when we are being tested to trust Him in the valley. This picture usually does not reveal how God intends to bring about the visions for our life.

However, none of us really derive the character qualities God desires for our lives while we are on the mountain. It is in the valley where the fruit is planted and harvested. It cannot grow on the mountain; it must grow in the valley. God is a God of the mountain, but he is even more a God of the valley. In the valley, it is more difficult to see ahead; the clouds often cover the valley and limit our sight.

Joseph was thrust into a deep valley that left him wondering if the God of his father had forsaken him. Jesus hoped that He might be able to avoid the valley that caused Him to sweat blood. There is a valley that each of us must enter, usually unwillingly, in order to experience the God of the valley-and to experience His faithfulness in the valley. Once we have spent time in this valley, we come out with something we would have never gained if we had not entered it. The valley brings much fruit into our lives so that we might plant seeds into the lives of others.

God does not waste valley experiences. If we are faithful in the valley, we will enter a new dimension with God that we never thought possible. There is a harvest of wisdom and virtue that can only be grown in the valley.

Lord, help me be faithful in the valley.

God is always on time...

So...I've been sitting here tonight with one thought on my mind. Actually, one thought that led to another thought that led to others that...well, you get the point. Lost in thought--buried, actually, by an avalanche of sadness and almost-overwhelming brokenness that stemmed from ONE thought. This thought: "I'm alone." Then this one: "I'm alone and lonely." Then: "I'm alone, lonely, and no one knows/cares." Needless to say, it all spiralled downward from that point. I should send out invitations to my big pity party, shouldn't I? ;-)

Today I've been reading the blogs of an old acquaintance...someone I knew in my "former life" (pre-divorce), a VERY long time ago. He and his wife made a deep impact on my life at a time when I didn't really understand much about the Body of Christ concept and what it means to say that we ARE a body...deeply connected and intertwined and fashioned that way for a purpose. They got it. They understood it. They lived it. And I've never forgotten what I learned from them, even though I didn't have the opportunity to spend much time with them. They were a blessing to me then...and now.

Cheryl was diagnosed with cancer in March (she was 48). And she met Jesus face-to-face in September. Jim blogged almost daily from the day of her diagnosis, keeping friends and family updated on the losing battle with cancer, but the ultimate Kingdom "win" for Cheryl. Their faith and trust in God and their unswerving belief in His sovereignty and love is a precious, beautiful story.

So...Jim said the following in June (the emphasis is mine). I read it tonight, amidst the pity-party confetti strewn all over my living room. God, in His timing, is perfect--He somehow (imagine that!!) knew I would need to read these very words tonight. I know He's in the midst of everything in my life...I know there's purpose, even though I can't see it and certainly can't begin to understand it. Maybe this is part of His purpose:


Remember: We won't know Jesus can calm the storm unless we are in a storm. We won't know he can heal the sick unless we are sick. We won't know Jesus will befriend the broken hearted and downcast unless we are friendless and broken hearted. We won't know Jesus can lead us to streams of clear water unless we're lost and thirsty. May God help us stop despairing our situations in life that are negative and begin to see Him work His love through every one of those situations.

Purpose and reason...

It seems like God often speaks to me most clearly through music...maybe that's just because there's always music playing in my world--if I'm not listening to my CD player or Ipod or radio, the most recent tracks are replaying themselves over and over in my head...there's a lyric and a tune to fit every mood and situation.

So...I recently made a compilation CD of songs which have been constant companions through some of my darker days--songs which remind me that, even though life is, at times, incredibly tough, and God seems all-too-distant and aloof, nothing (NOTHING) happens without His knowledge.

I primarily choose to believe that most of the crap I have to slog through is a result of (either myself or someone else) stepping out of His perfect/best plan and into those "everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial" areas which lead to walking through a lot of brambles and bogs to get back where I'm supposed to be, but...I don't think that's really always the case.

Back to my compilation CD--one of the songs I included is a song by Layton Howerton called "Beauty Marks". Of course I can't find the liner notes from his CD, so I can't post the entire song, but I'll post the pertinent lines. It's funny how you listen to something hundreds of times and then one day, out of the blue, the words just punch you in the stomach so hard that they nearly knock you to the ground.

The song is about the "beauty marks" God leaves on us through His work in our lives...the things that other people perceive as scars. The chorus says:

Bring it on, bring it on,
Whatever this day may bring...it on.
These wrinkles above my brow
Are not the product of a scowl,
It came from being seasoned,
Sifted with purpose and reason,
So bring it on, bring it on,
Whatever this day may bring...it on.
If you look upon my face,
See flaws in this canvas of grace,
They're simply God's beauty marks.

So, I've loved this song for about two years and have listened to it often. It's always given me peace in the midst of the storm (one of the verses talks about the "coming storm"). Yesterday, I was listening to it and the words "sifted with purpose and reason" hit me HARD. It was like I was driving into a neon billboard with two huge words flashing in my face: PURPOSE. REASON.

I haven't had much to say lately because I've been in a place where I just didn't know WHAT to say...I'm still not sure that I know. I don't think I can describe the "sifting" process I've been going through the past week or so...it's just been TOUGH. Part of the reason I made that CD in the first place was to have a constant reminder of God's presence when I can't feel Him there in the dark with me....and it's been DARK.

I'm strangely comforted by the fact that God HAS chosen to sift me...purposefully, deliberately, knowingly...and for His reasons, whatever they may be. That knowledge is a place of peace. And I need peace right now.

Bring it on.

Quoting Andrew Peterson....

...one of my favorite things to do. :-)

Seems pretty appropriate, since several of us seem to be focused right now on the whole plowing and planting and weeding and harvesting process going on in our lives.

This is a great song all the way through, but...there's one line (you won't have any problem recognizing it!) that just speaks volumes to me and always has.

The bottom line is...weedy or not, in full-bloom or scraggly, bearing an abundant harvest or just a few dried-up pieces of fruit--His grace is STILL SUFFICIENT for me. His love covers a multitude of...well, weeds. And wormy fruit. Don't get me wrong...I want to lay abundance at His feet to honor what He's done to my heart, but it's still ME that he loves. Period.


JUST AS I AM--Andrew Peterson

What's that on the ground?
It's what's left of my heart
Somebody named Jesus
Broke it to pieces
And planted the shards

And they're coming up green
They're coming in bloom
I can hardly believe
This is all coming true

Just as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
He showed me the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does

All of my life
I've held on to this fear
Its thistles and vines
Ensnare and entwine
What flowers appeared

It's the fear that I'll fall
One too many times
It's the fear that His love
Is no better than mine
(but He says that)
Just as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
He showed me the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does

It's time now to harvest
What little that grew
This man they call Jesus
Who planted the seeds
Has come for the fruit

And the best that I've got
Isn't nearly enough
He's glad for the crop
But it's me that He loves

Just as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
The same as the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does

The tilling and the redeeming

So...God is obviously up to something in my life. Not really sure what it is right now. Not really sure if I even WANT to know, from the little "previews of coming attractions" I've experienced so far. There's a deep sense of...almost foreboding, but if it's GOD, can it really be that bad (in the long run, anyway)?

I KNOW that God is in the junk recycling business...He's the ultimate finder of long-forgotten attic treasures--and amazingly adept at cleaning, polishing and fixing that which is dirty and tarnished and broken. He should be, shouldn't he, since he's also the designer and creator of what we've allowed this world to trash and toss aside like yesterday's news? He alone intimately knows the purpose for which our broken-piece-of-crap selves were created.

And, like my friend Hersch, I've been sensing that God wants to till the soil of my heart and dig out some of those deep-rooted weeds that are choking out a beautiful and bountiful harvest...I'm not unwilling to yield a bountiful harvest, of course, but I've wielded the tiller in the garden in my backyard enough to know that plowing the soil is never a pretty thing, although there's not much more beautiful to a farmgirl-at-heart than a freshly plowed field, just waiting to be planted. And, isn't it amazing what lies just beyond the hard, dried surface of a fallow, weedy field?

I'm not really sure where all this is going...maybe I just need to sort out some thoughts and see in black and white what I'm sensing the Lord is telling me to prepare for. If I'm worth tilling and worth cleaning and polishing and fixing, God must see beauty and potential in me...and that's worth knowing. :-)

What Erin said...

I'm lifting some words from my friend Erin's blog until I get derusted. Amazing how God leads you to the right places at the right time for the words you need to hear. (Thanks Erin and Hersch...and the "total stranger" whose words Erin posted on HER blog.)

"I'm excited to see what God has for tomorrow...how he redeems the brokenness all around me into something far more beautiful than what I ever thought to ask Him for..." (words from the total stranger)

This idea of redeeming what is broken...has been coming up all around me recently. A song I heard in the car today:

"So lay down the sword
And put away the doctrine
Love a little more, love a little more
‘Cause everybody’s broken..."

And something Bev said to me awhile ago...She had just finished pointing out a character issue I have...and, knowing that I'm a mel-head, she qualified her observation with another piece of wisdom that I've held in my pocket ever since: "Don't go to the opposite extreme, now...God doesn't want to change your tendency, He wants to redeem it..."

I guess this is kind of like God's business--it's what he's all about: buying back our broken, garage-sale junk (this who-would-ever-want-this-piece-of-crap-broken-toaster-but-I'm-going-to-put-a-price-on-it-and-see-what-happens junk)...and somehow, miraculously, magically, wonderfully, turning it into something beautiful. That's the business God is in. I don't get it, but it makes me so glad, because I'm one of those broken things that he's bought and is in the process of turning into something worthwhile.

Thanks, Jesus.