Awkward Silence

I went to bed last night around midnight only to stare at the ceiling for the next five hours. During that time, I (mentally) wrote a (brilliant) blog post entitled Everything I Can Do You Can Do Better. It had just the right amount of humor mixed with just the right amount of truth to let you, the reader, know that I, like you, grow weary of people who always have done the exact same thing you have done, just with a little more drama involved.

It truly is exhausting.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which side of the fence you sit on), I was not motivated in the least to actually get out of bed to put my thoughts to print. Instead, I perfected the grammar, tweaked a few punch lines, and rolled over while congratulating myself on a job well done. As the darkness of the room took on the gray tones of dawn, I drifted off to sleep only to dream about tornadoes and death for the second night in a row.

It's been tough around here, people.


(this is where the awkward silence comes in)


I honestly have nothing else to say.
Nothing inspirational. Nothing witty.

It'll hit me around three in the morning.


Except for this,


For my thoughts are not your thoughts, 
Neither are your ways My ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways
And My thoughts higher than your thoughts.

For as the rain and snow come down from the heavens,
And return not there again, but water the earth
And make it bring forth and sprout...

So shall My word be that goes forth out of My mouth:
It shall not return to Me void (without producing any effect)
But it shall accomplish that which I please and purpose
And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55: 8-11



I love it when He gets the last word. =)

You May Not Think This Is Pretty, But I Sure Feel Better

May I ramble on for a bit?

...and if you know me in the real-life-kind-of-way, please don't bother making a mental note to ask me tonight or tomorrow or the next day what in the world this is all about...

Just let me ramble.

~*~*~Sheesh.  I've already deleted what I thought I wanted to write at least three times.~*~*

Let me try a different tactic.

My weekend was awesome. I love rainy days and March Madness and a husband who likes to look at shoes. I'll be the first to admit that I don't know much about this modern world or pop culture or what irks nineteen-year old boys, but I do know what I like (emphasis on the I).

And maybe I just now understood what it is I want to write.

Boy, this is gonna be selfish. Brace yourself.

I did not incur a massive student loan debt to please other people. Crazy, but true. I knew exactly what I was doing. I started out seeking a degree in elementary education when I mentioned to my husband about one semester in, "You know, I really don't want to do this psycho-questioning-how-a-state-thinks-you-ought-to-teach madness for four years."

"So do what you love," the man of the house answered back.

"I love to teach."  "So what do you love to teach?"  "History."  "So teach history."

I listened. I prayed. End of my life-changing discussion.

Off toward a history degree I went. That diploma now hangs on my wall. A job (in that field) is yet to be found.

How can that be?

How can I have such a burning desire to teach history, to talk about history, to do anything that has to do with history, and still be sitting here bemoaning the fact that as of right now, that diploma is absolutely useless to me?

Well, unless you count the fact that it was a MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT...

Anyway.

I am frustrated.

But I'm still proud.

I have mentioned before (on this blog) that graduating college is on my list of  25 Things To Do Before I Die. Apparently I should have added a number twenty-six: Gain employment that actually uses said degree.

I'm somewhat sorry you've been subjected to this ramble, especially if you were looking for something uplifting or comical. You might want to check out some of the other blogs listed on my page for content a little less me-related.

Lord, can I move back home yet? Just take me back ten years and let's go at this thing from another angle.

Seriously.

I am so not getting this plan of Yours.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord.*

And there He goes again, reminding me of whose life this is anyhow.

Not mine. All His. Wait I will. I love when it He talks me out of my whining.

(Just please don't let Kansas make it to the Final Four. Please?)

And Amen.

*Isaiah 55:8-9

Timing IS Everything

Time (noun): A particular period or part of duration; a proper season; an opportunity.*

The Book of Esther in the Old Testament contains one of my favorite stories and one of my favorite people. What's not to love about a good Jewish girl who wins the ultimate of beauty contests? So what if the grand prize was a rather moody, fickle, and conceited man (my opinion only)... her testament of courage and faith outshines the infamous golden scepter of the king. I also admire the get-to-the-point kinda guy her Uncle Mordecai was:

Do not flatter yourself that you shall escape the king's palace any more than all the other Jews, chapter four and verse thirteen.**  In other words, Get over yourself, Esther (purely my translation).

Continuing on with verse fourteen: For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance shall arise for the Jews from elsewhere, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows but that you have come the kingdom for such a time as this and for this very occasion?

I go back to this story a lot because I think it's a great example of God's timing and plan. Just this afternoon I was thinking about some things that I shouldn't be thinking about (shocking, I know) and I decided the best way to readjust my way of thinking would be the Word of God. As I read through some of my favorites, my path crossed Esther more than once. I eventually closed my Bible and continued on with my day.

Coffee. Nap. Cats. Kids. Husband.

And that's when the issue of time came up.

Time as in,

We have to wait that long?
What are we gonna do 'till then?
But that's not part of our plan!

In the midst of the rising panic within me, however, a still and quiet voice spoke to my heart:

Have I let you down yet?

I kid you not when I say that in that very moment, the sweetest sense of peace rushed through my mind, my body, my spirit. The calm that took place was so immediate that I had to sit down, take a deep breath, and once again raise my white flag of surrender. Even so, I still can't make sense of this whole timing thing. On the outside, this latest setback is the last thing we need. But on the inside...

On the inside I know that I know without a shadow of a doubt one thing to be certain:
He has not let me down. His timing is everything. There is a proper season.
And He knew I would need to be reminded of Esther earlier today.


Thanks for the head's up. =)



*   Definition courtesy of my beloved 1892 Webster's High School Dictionary.
** Scripture Verses taken from my beloved duct-taped and well-worn Amplified Bible.

I Know I Said Farewell Yesterday, But...

Apparently I'm not done just yet. I mean, I thought I would back away from this computer for a while and yet here I sit. Oh well. My intentions don't always match up to future actions. The parents are on the way; they just made a pit stop to catch up on some sleep last night. If all goes well, we should be seeing them around noon. At least they're finally in the same time zone as me. So here I am. Clean house. Laundry done. Presents neatly arranged under the Christmas tree. Twiddling my thumbs.

I've never been the best at waiting.

One time during a prayer before supper, a beautiful child of mine uttered these words, And give my mom more patience. My eyes flew open and I said, Quick! Take that back! Don't ever ask the Lord for more patience! I forced a laugh to relieve the shocked look on the faces around me, but seriously... do any of you out there know what I mean? There was a time when I prayed for more patience. There was also a time when I prayed the prayer of Jabez. I'll not make that mistake again. I rarely pay attention to any of the latest prayer trends that cross my path anymore. Jabez ruined it for me.

Disclaimer: Click the above link to learn more about the prayer of Jabez and please understand, if you haven't figured me out yet, that most of my comments are sprinkled (okay, DOUSED) with sarcasm. I do stand by the theory, however, that it was that prayer about expanding my territory and all that that sparked the bright idea of a cross-country move into the husband's head years ago- which is why I now think before I pray ( go ahead and laugh) and the virtue of patience is just something that I accept I need to work on. I don't ask for it.

Moving on.

I have successfully twiddled away one full hour.
A second cup of coffee. A piece of cake. Looking out the window.

I think I'll go wake somebody up.

They love me around here. =)

OMG!!! You're Not Going To Believe This!!!

And so it would seem that I have to yet another fork in the road.  I'm asking all you prayer warriors out there to pray for direction and the way the Lord would lead.

I wrote the above words on Saturday as a facebook status. I kind of go in phases with facebook; sometimes I update a lot, sometimes I update hardly ever. I’m not the kind of status person that hopes to get a zillion and one comments wondering if I am okay.

Example:

If that ever happens again, I think I might die!!!

Great news today!!!

OMG!!! You’ll never guess what’s going on!!!

And so forth and on and on. If you’re not on facebook, you have no idea what I am talking about. If you are a frequent flyer, than you know all too well (and sorry in advance if one of the above is your most recent post. I promise I have not even been on there yet today except to copy and paste the opening statement, but... I do confess to shamelessly using the title of this post to grab your attention).

Anyway.

There are times when I reach out in the few ways I know how for some extra support. I’ve been struggling with some stuff… you name it… job searches, money woes, and general why am I even here type stuff. Depending on what day you catch me, I might be full of hope and cleaning supplies or full of despair and used kleenexes.

I came to that fork in the road last week. It was as clear before me just as if I was standing in the middle of a backwoods dusty road. I needed to make a decision or my indecision was going to drown me standing up. You ever been there? It’s an uncomfortable place to be. I would rather be moving in a solid direction than willingly give into the quicksand that threatens to squeeze the life out of me.

So I asked for prayer. I prayed. God moved. Well, technically, He moved me. No lightning bolts. No thunderous voice. Just a gentle, gentle push in my spirit that said, “This way.” So that way I went. I still don’t have a clue what lies along this way. Maybe it’s about a job. Maybe it’s about obedience. Maybe it’s about being prepared. I just hope it includes some kind of income.

Hey, I’m about as real as you can get.

After making my beginning steps this morning, I sat down to again search the scriptures. I wanted to find something that expressed how I am feeling; to be assured that I am not the only one with these up-and-down emotions. This chapter about said it all. I especially like how it came from David when he was hiding out in a cave.

Jesus. Son of David. Have mercy on me.

Psalm 142 Amplified Bible

A skillful song, or a didactic or reflective poem, of David;

 when he was in the cave. A Prayer.

¹ I cry to the Lord with my voice; with my voice to the Lord do I make supplication.

² I pour out my complaint before Him; I tell before Him my trouble.

³ When my spirit was overwhelmed and fainted [throwing all its weight] upon me, then You knew my path. In the way where I walk they have hidden a snare for me.

⁴ Look on the right hand [the point of attack] and see; for there is no man who knows me [to appear for me]. Refuge has failed me and I have no way to flee; no man cares for my life or my welfare.

⁵ I cried to You, O Lord; I said, You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.

⁶ Attend to my loud cry, for I am brought very low; deliver me from my persecutors, for they are stronger than I.

⁷ Bring my life out of prison, that I may confess, praise, and give thanks to Your name; the righteous will surround me and crown themselves because of me, for You will deal bountifully with me.

Somebody Out There Must Have Prayed...

Cause I have a job interview this afternoon.

It's the first I've had since... since...    I can't even remember.

Keep praying. =)

Alopecia Areata: Faith, Hair, and A Girl (#1)



Age 5



The youngest has given me permission to share her story, and share her story I will. It's a story of loss and faith and hair. In fact, on the outside, it is mostly about hair, but when you look closer, you'll see it's more about faith. The faith of a child.

And alopecia areata.

That's unexplained baldness to you and me.

Her story will take more than one post, that's for sure. I'm gonna get her to write at least one entry herself. She's a writer, that one. There's also the viewpoint from her granny and her second grade teacher and her brothers and her dad. You see, what affected one affected us all.

The picture above is a bit deceiving. Once when we shared her testimony with an evangelist, he wanted to publish her story if we had pictures of the before and after. Now I'm not knocking the man... his preaching and words of faith played a big part in the young lady we see today, but pictures of the before we just don't have. Pictures of bandanas and scarves and hats we have (and boy, did we ever have a collection!), but pictures of baldness we did not take. I have no regrets there. Besides, photographs fade; memories do not.

In the beginning, though, we didn't need many scarves. In fact, I think the bandana she is wearing in the picture above was just one of a few. It started off pretty mild. She was four when we first noticed an eyebrow missing. Gone. Completely vanished. Then we saw thinning eyelashes and the slight receding of the hairline. A dime-sized bald spot on the left side of her scalp sent us to the doctor who sent us to a specialist. The specialist sent us to a medical college where a group of learning students requested our permission to perform a biopsy on the bald spot because a brain tumor was a possible explanation for the unexplained loss of hair.

We never went back.

What we did do was take her immediately to our pastor, who along with another pastor and a mighty prayer warrior, surrounded that little girl, anointed her with oil, and prayed against whatever affliction was in the process of attacking her. If you look really close in the above picture, you can see the eyebrow in question filling back in (and the other one was oddly never affected). It wasn't too long after this picture that she went without a bandana because all signs of hair loss were practically gone.

And it would stay that way for another year or so, but like most challenges in life, the problem would come back with a vengeance. We had no idea how many scarves and bandanas and hats we would eventually need.

Or how many prayers and boxes of kleenex and pep talks it would take.

Interested?

Watch for the same title in future posts.

We'll see where this little journey takes us. 

Praying My Life Away

Lately I cannot get prayer out of my head.

I walk though the house praying.
I go to bed and pray before I go to sleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night with a prayer in my head.
I open my eyes in the morning thinking I better get to praying.

So this morning, in the wee hours before daylight, I thought about all this prayer... that either there is something going on that I cannot see urging me to pray, or that I am just highly suspicious and somewhat doubtful of good intentions. If you know me at all, the last part would be very believable, but I can't help but think a target has been put on my family and there is no way I'm about to sit by idle waiting for it all to unfold.

And so I pray. I start at the top and go down to the youngest just like my grandma would do. Which brings me to another question.

My grandma would always pray for me. I was number twelve on her list of thirteen grandchildren. Believe me, I've heard her and I've counted. She would start with her firstborn that died way too early, go on to her oldest child to the youngest, start with the top of the grandchildren and work her way down, and moved on to her great and great-great grandchildren. Now with those, I don't think she called but a few of them by name (she had a lot), but she always, always, always prayed for the all the babies.

Salvation. Protection. Wisdom to stop doing something stupid.

I thought of her and the times I would hear her pray at night and the example she set before me. Which raised that question.

Who is praying for me now?

What I've Got Isn't Part Of This Week's Mega Millions Jackpot

Today I cried.
In front of my kids.
Shamelessly.

This morning started off with such hope. I got a call to substitute teach, flew into high gear, and was headed out the door about the same time as the kids. The middle joked about how maybe we should have a group prayer. I said, "Go for it."

And go for it he did.

I don't know if many out there know the experience of having your almost sixteen-year old son place his hand on your shoulder and pray, but I am here to tell you, money can't buy that. He didn't quote scripture or use fancy words. He just spoke from his heart and about had my make-up ruined by the time he was done.

God only knows what would've happened if he hadn't said that prayer.

I'm not going to go into a lot of detail because that wouldn't do anybody any good, but all I could hear in my head the entire day were the words of a very wise preacher, "When the kids are out of control, they are in control," and out of control they were.

Enough said.

Except for one thing.

I came home and told the kids about my day. We reminisced about my early years of teaching and how things use to be. They told me some of their own stories from their public school experiences (only a few years into it) and gave me some solid, sound advice. I don't always listen, but I recognize wisdom when I hear it. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I cried.

They offered kleenex.
They sat silent.
They understood.

The rich can keep their riches.

I've got plenty.

Blessed are those who fear the LORD,

   who find great delight in his commands.

 Their children will be mighty in the land; 

   the generation of the upright will be blessed.

 Wealth and riches are in their houses, 

   and their righteousness endures forever.

 Psalm 112:1-3

Do You Hear What I Hear?

In the blink of an eye, I had a prayer answered. In fact, it came so quick and so unexpected, it sort of caught me off guard. It's personal and all and nothing I really care to share, and yet I did have to share that part of it (if that makes any sense). Sometimes the Lord just catches me by surprise. It's as if He grabs a hold of my heart and gently taps my head with a 2x4 or something: See? I really do listen to you. My timing, girl. My timing. And believe me, He knows that if He wants to get anything done in my life, then He has to get me out of the way. I tend to step in too much. I'm kinda pushy like that.

So my visit home continues while the Lord works on my behalf.
We make a pretty good team, He and I (as long as I let Him lead).

This Little Light Of Mine

I sit this morning and think about the people that pop in and out of my life. There one day, gone the next. In a virtual world (and I promise I am not going to get hung up on this), it is so easy for any one person to be your friend or follower for any length of time and then suddenly disappear with zero to little explanation. The same thing can happen with friends in the real world. People simply lose track of each other. The whole thing brings to mind a verse out of Psalms (144:4):

 Man is like a breath; His days are like a passing shadow.

I remember an illustration I once gave to a junior high class. I stood in front of a group of 7/8th graders, lit a match, and blew it out. I drew their attention to the wisps of smoke that escaped from the extinguished burnt end... thick at first, but then slowly drifting and trailing away to nothing until all that was left was the faint smell of smoke in the air. I then proceeded to tell them that was a picture of their life.

Yeah. I am one ray of sunshine in the classroom.

Life is so fleeting, though, isn't it? We never know what the next turn will bring and we never fully understand why we had to make that turn to begin with. I loved my grandma like crazy, you all know that. I talk about her often and hope I never stop, but the simple fact remains that she is no longer here. Her time, her purpose, her existence on this earth came and went with the passing of eighty-nine years. She closed her eyes in this world and opened them in the next.

Oh, where would we be without that hope?

I think about my life. Am I fulfilling my role or simply going through the motions while the match stays lit, so to speak. Do I pop in and out of people's lives without making a mark, without leaving anything behind besides the smell of a burnt match? Am I easily forgettable or am I like a nagging pain in someone's head that they can't easily get rid of? Yeah, that thought makes me chuckle this early in the morning, but I have to say that I would rather be a pain than forgotten.

Wow. I do wonder where the thoughts in my head come from at times.

I want to be a good wife and mother and all that goes with that, but I also want to be a good friend and a mentor and somebody that makes you think. I want to me that person that points the way to the Lord, not because I wear a Jesus shirt or a Jesus pin or thump you over the head with my bible. I want you to know that without Him, I would be nothing. He saved me when I didn't deserve it; He led me when I wouldn't listen; and He holds my hand when I cry.

He's the light on the end of my match except His flame never goes out.

It just moves on to light the next one when my match burns out.

Kinda like passing the torch forward, huh?

Whatever It Is, You Can Have It

One of the strangest things to me is when I ask the Lord to show me something, He does, and then I wish I would have never asked. Am I never happy? Why do I think I need to know everything anyway? It doesn't change anything except the fact that now I know and I wish I didn't. Knowing doesn't exactly bring about peace, but I guess it does stop the wondering.

So which is worse, the knowing or the wondering?

I kinda think the wondering is worse. At least with knowing, you can move on either by picking it up and lugging it along with you, or leaving it where it belongs anyway... with the Lord. Now that's the hard part. And it doesn't matter what it is. It can be big or small; life changing or trivial; spouse-related, kid-related, or work-related. I guess it always goes back to trust.

Do I trust the Lord enough?
Do I think He can handle it?
Do I think He needs my help?

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

It's not about me.
It's all about Him.
Who's all about me.

He must increase,

but I must decrease.

[He must grow more prominent; I must grow less so.]  

^{John 3:30}

Celebrating Hope

Do you ever get consumed by sad thoughts to the point where you have to make a conscious decision to call a cease and desist! to that part of your brain?

I knew it was just me.

Well, hang with me cause I promise this will take a positive spin. I was in bed last night waiting for my husband to complete his next virtual level in some world that does not exist when I began thinking about the date. Now, I've already been here, done this, so I'm not going to repeat what you've already read (it may have been painful enough the first time). Suffice it to say, four years ago on this very date, I hugged my grandma on her front porch (it would be the last time I would be at her house while she was alive), hugged my mom and dad (and I won't even allow myself to dwell on that), and loaded two kids into a car to be followed by another kid riding with his dad in a moving truck.

We called it The Great Adventure.
Now I just refer to it as The Great Move of 2007.
Eight hundred and eighty-two miles in the wrong direction.

Okay. That's enough with that side of it.

I opened up my bible this morning looking for something in particular I knew I had marked. Referring to the great heroes and heroines of faith that lived in Old Testament times- and let me interrupt this thought for a shout-out to my 3rd/4th grade class of 2005-2006 (?) that memorized the entire chapter and brought the house down at our Spring Presentation. Anyway, Hebrews 11 recalls the big faith moments of people like Abraham and Enoch and Noah and Moses and Rahab... you get the idea. Verses 14-16 are circled in my bible with squiggly lines and arrows pointing to it with particular emphasis on verse 15:

Now those people who talk as they did show plainly that they are in search of a fatherland (their own country). If they had been thinking with [homesick] remembrance of that country from which they were emigrants, they would have found constant opportunity to return to it. But the truth is that they were yearning for and aspiring to a better and more desirable country, that is, a heavenly [one]. For that reason God is not ashamed to be called their God [even to be surnamed their God--the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob], for He has prepared a city for them.
 
Now don't get me wrong. As far as I was concerned, we were in our own country, but you get the point. The date inscribed by these verses would put us about one month into The Great Move. Believe me, I found constant opportunity to return home. And again, it's as tempting as ever to have a seat, kick my feet up, and keep these thoughts company for a long time; but for the sake of my day, I'm not gonna do it.
 
Yes. Our mortgage doubled.
Yes. Our income dropped.
 
But we are still here. Our family is still under one roof, new friends have been made, and we are probably closer to the Lord than we would have been had we stayed. There is something to be said about getting too comfortable. Complacency is a dangerous thing. I know for a fact that I was losing my identity in the work I was doing. I forgot who I was in Him. Hey, I'll never pretend to know the real reason for all this, but He brings good out of all things. Sometimes a hard look in the mirror is the hardest thing to do.
 
So tonight I think I am going to plan a little celebration dinner. I may be the only one in this family who takes note of the date, but I happen to think survival is a good thing to celebrate. Not just survival of a move and all that went with it, but survival of life. Loss. Heartbreak. Despair. Homesickness. Depression.
 
Hope.
 
And not the hope our current administration gives.
Thank God for that. My hope is real.
 
 
 

And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect?

My hope and expectation are in You.

Psalm 39:7

Words From My Grandma And Late Night Tacos

It's four in the morning and I'm wide awake. Well, the wide awake part would be an exaggeration... actually I am very tired. My eyes hurt. My head feels funny. My tummy just might be protesting that Taco Bell run we made sometime after ten o'clock last night. And yet, here I sit.

I was having the most amazing dream. My hair was long and full and brown (of all things) and full of the most beautiful curls. I was sitting in a bar (sorry Mom) with a man not my husband (sorry husband) talking about life. Then, at some point, the man got bored and my husband walked in, somewhat relieved that I had found somebody else to talk to if even for a few minutes. I am so not kidding here. This is the story of my life.

I woke up with a smile thinking about those beautiful curls. Dreams have a way of fading quickly, however, and as the cool air from the fan hit the back of my neck, I was reminded that my hair is not long, has more waves than curls, and is most definitely not brown. I could hear my husband snoring softly beside me and I was reminded of the reality in which we live.

We are both out of work with no real plan in sight. Just when it seems that there might be a sliver of hope, that hope is snatched faster than it can take root. Some might say it's a spiritual battle and others might just call it life. All I know is that with each passing day and each local news show, heaven is looking better and better. Shoot, drugs are looking better.

Did I say that out loud? Ha. Do you ever have thoughts like that? Who am I writing to anyway? I sometimes think a diary would be better, but then I have a fear of somebody reading it after I'm dead. How crazy is that? I sometimes think I should pull the plug on this one (blog) and start again, but I often feel like my life is nothing more than a bunch of re-starts. Not a bad thing, I know, but some things are just what they are. No sense hitting a delete button trying to pretend none of it happened.

Wow. This is turning out to be a tad bit depressing. I sure didn't mean it that way. The mind is a funny thing. One minute I can be full of hope and the next I can be certain things will never go my way. Maybe that's the ticket right there... my way. Good grief, will I ever learn? It's times like these I wish I could call my grandma. Somehow it always made me feel better to hear that she had the same struggles I did. I'll never forget the time she told me about her early days of marriage and her mother-in-law. I can still see her talking about it all. She was just as fired up about some sixty (or more) years later as she must have been when she was actually in the middle of it all.

It does help to hear people share their honest stories, doesn't it? Not those Sunday-suit-sitting-in-the-choir stories, but those down-to-earth-life-can-be-crap stories. I learn more from hearing how someone overcame adversary than from someone telling me what I should be doing, if that makes any sense. My grandma was like that. Sure she would tell me what I should be doing (for instance, I don't know how many times I had Hebrews 10:23-25 quoted to me by that little old lady) but she would also share her own experiences with me to try to teach me something. That meant a lot.

Anyway, I guess there's not much else to say. Today is a new day. Anything can happen. If I were to hang up hope altogether, I would truly have nothing to live for. I don't know... maybe I should get that diary.

And by the way, Hebrews 10:23-25 says this: Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.

That was her favorite verse to throw my way when I told her I was tired of going to church. I still repeat that same thing to myself often and have used it on the kids on more than one occasion. Thanks, Grandma. =)

Finding The Happy

If I have to put a For Sale sign in our front yard at this point, I think I might scream. Three years ago, I would have been jumping with excitement. Two years ago, I would have been on my knees thanking the Lord. Even one year ago, I would have been happily ignoring the protests of my kids and been on the street myself handing out flyers. But now? Just the thought of it gives me an instant headache.

And no offense to my family and friends back home either. I'm simply not up to going through all that again. The thought of packing makes me cringe. The sheer image of a moving truck with its bottomless gas tank makes me cry. The idea of starting over again somewhere else makes me want to run away (and we all know that includes a rental bike shop on the Atlantic coast). There just seems to be nowhere to hide.

This unemployment thing sucks. I hate the uncertainty of it all. Yes, we're fine for now, but I'm a person who likes to plan ahead. I need to plan ahead and know that everything will work out just fine. Funny how that has never been as important to the Lord as it is to me. I suppose it's like we tell our own kids: You don't need to worry about it. Daddy has it all under control. Easily spoken words, huh?

The oldest is on his own job search and I'm glad to see him doing it. Not because I expect him to help us out (although the boy would give us his last dime if we asked for it), but because I know he'll need his own stash to do things that every seventeen-year old boy wants to do... drive his truck, take his girlfriend out to dinner, buy his mom a Starbucks. He is so happy most of the time. I want him to stay that way.

I knew today's mood swing was coming. When I sat down to pay a few more bills to take us (almost) through to the end of the month, the dread started gnawing away at me and I feel silly for going down this road. My husband has more than taken care of us. Like he told his former employer when they gave him the pink slip, I may not be good with math, but I am good with money. He does plan ahead.

It's just that ole not knowing creeping in. I'm back to checking job boards a gazillion times a day and I know better than to be doing that. A person can really only do so much. Attitude is everything, I suppose. That and prayer. I have the mind of Christ and hold the thoughts, feelings, and purposes of His heart (1 Cor. 2:16). I am a believer and not a doubter. And chocolate helps, too.

Are things all that bad? Not really. The mind can be a powerful ally, though, or our own worst enemy. The husband is out doing all he can, the boy has spent at least thirty minutes on a Subway application, and it's time I close down the pity party. There's too many good things going on my life to be consumed by the negative (you did catch the new baby post yesterday, right?). You can't go wrong with that.

Besides, if I take any more Excedrin, I might be considered an addict.

God Himself has said,

I will never leave you without support or forsake you or let you down.

I will not, I will not, I will not (yes, this really is repeated THREE times)

in any degree leave you helpless or relax my hold on you... assuredly not!

Hebrews 13:5, Amplified

My Provider

Sometimes I can be in the middle of the most ordinary tasks when the Lord catches my attention. Today it was in the midst of picking up and sorting through clothes and shoes and newspapers on my side of the bedroom floor (I've got the corner wall that is a notorious random-stuff collector).

I listen to internet radio most days. I like the variety that pops up and the few-and-far-between commercials to deal with. This song followed Total Eclipse of the Heart that was preceded by the likes of Redneck Woman and You Give Love A Bad Name. I'm not sure what would have followed it because as far as I was concerned, the music time was over.

Last night, we could not even rent a movie for lack of funds. This morning, I was able to go to the doctor and get a prescription filled thanks to the early deposit of my husband's paycheck. The movie was not needed. The doctor visit was. I guess I was just reminded of His perfect timing. I don't know that we'll ever have more than we need, but we always have just what we need when we need it.

(And I've spent time with prosperity preachers and their teaching, so save your wisdom there. It means nothing to me to see pastors and their assistants and their assistant's assistants drive around in foreign models and vacation in exotic places while the rest of the financially-strapped congregation struggles to keep the church lights on and feed orphan children).

But we won't go there.

I'm not against riches. I would like to try it. In fact, I've always wanted to be a main character in a John Grisham novel. It's typically a rags-to-riches story where the main guy earns his ka-billions through less than ethical standards. He gets to play hard, spend most of it, get caught, and still escape to the Caribbean where he has even more millions stashed away in Grand Cayman. Not that I support illegal tax evasion, mind you, but I do support every person's chance to live the high life at least for a short time (and not at the expense of credit card debt).

Anyway, I have once again veered off the path I had originally intended. I was reminded through that earlier song that God is always there. My husband and I had the most in-depth conversation the other night on the front porch (the one where I was tempted to shoot a fly with a .38). We were looking back on the last (almost) four years and how the Lord has been at every turn we have made. Even if it was the wrong turn, He was there to turn us around to get us back on the right track. Our house sold when it shouldn't have, we found a house that we loved that nobody else wanted... even with the whole job loss thing for me, I've been available for the kids when we've had no one else to fall back on. I could go on, but a look through all the entries of this blog will more than enough support the theory (no, the belief) that we serve a God who cares and loves and saves. And by the way, I learned all that from my Grandma Faye.

She would love all the talking I do about her.
I can see her smiling just as plain as day.
And for the record, she would agree with me on the prosperity thing.
Just thought I'd throw that in.

P.S. If you liked that video, look up this Joplin version.
No matter where I live, I'll always be a Missouri girl.

So I Wait Some More

How do you handle disappointment?

I tend to cry, pray, and clean. In that order. And I know I should pray first. I'm just telling you, tears come easy to me when no one is looking. So I cry, then I pray. I clean the house. I think outside. And then I have a total meltdown by the washing machine.

The Lord knows me so well. He knows exactly how the whole process will play out. And He knows just when to pat me on the back and tell me everything will be all right. Has He ever let me down? Can't say that He ever has.

The waiting is the hardest part.

The Ugly Truth

My husband did the nicest thing for me last night and it has nothing to do with flowers or cleaning or kisses or chocolate (although I'm a big fan of all four of those). After repeatedly asking me what was wrong and what was bothering me and why I was so acting the way I was... I finally told him and let me assure you, it was not a pretty sight.

I got pretty angry.
I really let him have it.
And it had nothing to do with him.

Or maybe it did.

The emotions of a woman. Poor, poor man. We stood outside in the drizzling cool of the night and he listened while I recapped every person and every moment in my life that has ever let me down. I stopped beating around the bush and trying to protect his feelings and trying to hide mine. I admitted things to him that I have never confessed out loud (and remember, we're talking feelings here; not criminal acts). I tried to put into words the utter despair that I feel at times is so anchored within me... so lodged in tight, so stuck... that sometimes I feel dead on the inside.

(How's this for truth?)

He said two things to me. First, he talked about my grandma and how better things felt when she was around. Well, that's a no-brainer. That little woman was a mighty prayer warrior. Sitting with her could be like sitting with Jesus, snapping green beans and all.

Secondly, he said one simple word to me: resentment. When he said that, I felt the breath go out of me. I stumbled over a few words and tried to make excuses and said something like, Oh no, that's not me, but I went to bed with that word on my mind and woke up with it still there.

resent: verb. To take ill; to consider as an injury or affront.

Sometimes facing the truth about ourselves is a very tough pill to swallow. The truth does indeed hurt. He wasn't trying to hurt me, though. He listened and he waited and then he simply pointed out what he was hearing. He didn't accuse me of whining. He didn't blow me off. He wants me to happy.

And the word happy is nowhere in that definition.

I could keep going, but sometimes I sense the Lord controlling the backspace button. Not everything needs to be expressed. For some reason, this did. Maybe it was so I can see the truth before me. Maybe it's so you can know you're not alone. Maybe somebody needed to witness the many flaws in my character.

Only He knows.

Thank you, Lord, for my husband.

And for truth, no matter how ugly it can be.

I'm not where I should be, but I'm not where I was either.

We'll call that progress and move on with the rest of the day.

Boys That Grow Into Men

Today I am going to attempt the unthinkable.

I am going to sew. Or at least something similar to it. Technically I'm going to Hobby Lobby first in search of some kind of magical tape that my mother suggested. She spent about ten minutes last night on facebook chat giving me step-by-step instructions. I was utterly confused, but she was patient and kept right on going. You would think I'm about to piece together a quilt or something. Nope. I just need to hem some pants.

Hey, I've never pretended to be the seamstress of the family.
That's all my mom, and she is nowhere near me.
I'm all on my own here and am seriously considering the benefits of a stapler.

My boy is depending on me, though, so surely I can pull this off without him having to worry about random staples poking him around the ankles. He stands somewhere around 5'11" and these pants are something like six inches too long. He'll have on steel-toe boots and be tromping around a machine shop so surely no one will be inspecting whether or not his hem is straight.

Except for my daughter.
Who will report back to my mom.
I hope I get this right.

It's a big weekend for the oldest, our machine tool wizard. He was hand-picked to represent his machine class in a district competition that could lead to a national win. Wouldn't that be something? He's got a fresh hair cut, neatly pressed (though yet un-hemmed) uniform, and big dreams of a future career.

God's got a plan.

It's another big weekend for another young man I know. I last really knew this boy was he absolutely hating the rules of eighth grade grammar. I remember him well, though. Always polite, always quick to participate, always willing to try. Today he is a young man fresh out of high school and basic training/school. I was chatting with my mom last night (in the midst of her how-to instructions) when I was alerted to another incoming chat. Every now and then I'll get a message from a former student wanting to know how I am.

(Remember yesterday's post? It's those same kids that forever live in my heart.).

Anyway, this message wasn't to ask how I was doing, but to basically say goodbye. It about broke my heart and yet, that's the way life is. He's heading off to Afghanistan this Sunday. Combat medic. Limited communications via postal mail only. Fifteen months. What's a teacher to do?

I told him I would pray for him and to remember what I've always said to any kid I've come in contact with, God's got a plan. I said to lean on Him and just go over there and do what needs to be done. I encouraged him to experience life on the other side of the world and to let me know when he got back. His simple reply? You'll be waiting a long time. Fifteen months is a long time, but particularly to a young man who is about to embark into the unknown, I think. We said our goodbyes and signed off with those sappy little smiley faces and I fought back tears.

You spend time with these kids and then they're not kids anymore. They're adult people doing adult things. I went to bed and thought of a zillion other things I should have said. God's got a plan? Is that really the best I can come up with? And yet, there is no other way to say it.

He does have a plan.
From the day we are born.
We just have to walk it out.

Adam is doing just that and I have no doubt that God will use this gentle man in a powerful way. I'll just be glad when he pops back in on chat to tell me he's home. Until then, I'll be blogging and praying and trying to put a straight hem in a pair of pants my boy needs by Thursday. Surely the same God who knows the number of hairs on my head can help cut an even line.

Even so, I think I'll keep the stapler on stand-by.

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
      you formed me in my mother's womb.
   I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!       

Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
      I worship in adoration—what a creation!
   You know me inside and out,
      you know every bone in my body;
   You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
      how I was sculpted from nothing into something.    

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;       

all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
   The days of my life all prepared
      before I'd even lived one day.

Psalm 139:13-16 (The Message)

Troubled Times

Now my soul is troubled, and distressed, and what shall I say? John 12:27

I went to bed troubled and I woke up troubled. The morning news has left me more troubled. Earthquakes, tsunami warnings, and an idiot terrorist threat at our local airport is just plain craziness.

And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and upon the earth

 there will be distress (trouble and anguish) of nations

 in bewilderment and perplexity at the roaring of the sea.

Men swooning away or expiring with fear and dread and apprehension and expectation of the things that are coming of the world; for the very powers of the heavens will be shaken and caused to totter.

And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud

 with great power and glory.

Now when these things begin to occur, look up and lift up your heads,

 because your redemption (deliverance) is drawing near.

 Luke 21: 25-28

I was going to stop with verse twenty-five, but it was so good I had to go on. I know not everybody thinks the same way I do. I've had comments before that the writing is good, but the religion part could be left out. If I left that part out, however, I would have nothing to write about.

Most of the time I have no clue what I am doing. The news can worry me, my kids can frustrate me, and my husband can completely rock my world when he casually mentions that a part of his family has invited themselves to our house for Easter dinner. (You did catch the invited themselves part, right?)

The same family that we haven't seen for over a year. At least part of that family. The other part, the part that completely ignores us and pretends that we don't exist, are probably just gonna kick back and see how the whole thing plays out.

And when did I say I was cooking Easter dinner?

So you see, sometimes my troubles can begin from my own selfish dislikes and general feelings of I don't want to do this. The only good thing I can say is I knew this day was coming. I had already asked the Lord to guard my mouth when the subject came up and I gotta say, my mouth stayed shut. Miracle! Of course, that very fact has got that wonderful husband of mine very suspicious. My strange silence on the idea of his crazy family coming to dinner has probably got him thinking I'm moody and mad and who knows what else.

Well, technically... he's right on all accounts, but at least I haven't said anything. Baby steps.

Oh, Lord, save me from myself.

And be with those in Japan and Hawaii and the rest of the west coast.

And the idiot thinking he was gonna blow up something at the airport or plane or whatever that was?? Well, I'm thinking he just needs a good, swift kick in the pants, but you know best.

That's why you're YOU and I'm me.

Blessed be the Lord,

 Who bears our burdens and carries us day by day.

 Psalm 68:19