Rambling thoughts

You need a day like this every once in a while.

Today is casual day. I get to wear jeans and a tee shirt to school. I was gearing up for sweatpants, but they were all dirty. I've got the heater in my classroom set on "cozy". And I don't have a class for 20 minutes. I haven't had a class all morning. Fridays make up for the tightly wound schedule I keep the rest of the week.

So I have spent the morning going over our future houseplan with a fine tooth comb, trying to weed out unnecessary square footage, asking questions like - do I really need a separate dining area and eat-in kitchen? I've read up on some of the blogs I follow. I have mourned my own lack of creativity as I get a good glimpse at theirs. And now I write this, trying to stir up some more creative passion in the little time I've got left before my day actually starts.

I tried to write some poetry yesterday. When you have to TRY, it's usually not any good. The same was true of my poetry days in literature classes at Ole Miss. I had to wait until the last minute, throw myself in front of my old computer, and let it flow. Songwriting happens the same way.

I've been wanting to write a new song for a while now. The well has been pretty dry for months. Words wouldn't be a problem if I could just come up with an original tune. Everything I sit down and play sounds alike, and sounds like I ripped it off from Chris Rice's "Untitled Hymn". I like soft, lullaby ballads, and lyrics about needing to be near God. At least once a day for the past two weeks, I sing through Nicole Nordman's song "Small Enough".

Dennis Jernigan calls himself a song-receiver, rather than a song-writer. I get that. I feel the same way. The times when it is really inspired, it's like I'm hearing the whole song at once, music, lyrics, even orchestration and harmony. I've really been trying to cultivate a listening heart lately, and one of the things I hope to get out of this, besides intimacy with God, is new music. I've got a serious bug up my bum about recording again. When we were going down the adoption path the first time, I saw it as a means of generating some of the funds we'd need for the fees. But then everything kinda got suspended as we wait to see if the conception route might work.

I'm not really sure where I was going with the post today. Don't really have any kind of response or reaction or assistance that I want from the reader. It was just on my mind. Kinda like my poetry, sometimes I just sit down and let it flow.

So anyways, you can be praying for us. We'll be testing this weekend. I'm not really feeling any symptoms. The canker sores from hades peaked my curiosity, but since they've gone, I haven't had any of the expected soreness or sickness. So, I'm preparing myself for a gentle let-down, trying to convince myself that I'm really going to be okay and not lose it, and not shut off communication with God for a couple of weeks if the answer is negative. Pray for all that stuff. I'd appreciate it. And pray for music. I don't know if that's a worthy prayer request or not, but I have stuff I want to say, and I want it to be beautiful and unique and a blessing.

Have a good weekend.

Too Blessed to be Stressed

My husband has supersonic hearing - the perfect complement to my noise-induced hearing loss. If I breathe a little heavy (now, don't take that the wrong way), he says, "What is it?"

I have three sighs. One of contentment...."ahhhhh". One of exhaustion...."whewhhhh". And one of concession...."ughhhhhh". This week, I've used all three. Heck, TODAY I've used all three. The problem is, when I make sigh number two or one, and he asks "what is it," he's not always satisfied with the answer of "nothing" or "I'm just tired". Sometimes, he thinks I'm hiding something from him.

Sometimes, I make something up just so he won't ask me if I'm sure.

But his perception and consideration is one thing I love about my husband. I'm so blessed to have a man in my life who listens to the smallest sounds I make, and is always open for communication.

I'll have to admit, sometimes I take that blessing for granted. Last night, we had a free evening. No practice, no grocery shopping, no nothing. Mr. Fix-It wanted to make a run to Home Depot for a little project that he won't even get to until Saturday. Since I had spent my day fixing the scheduling mess that has become of this upcoming program - it got changed AGAIN! - I didn't want to fix anything, look at anything that had anything to do with fixing, or home repair, or anything. I wanted to plant my rear on the bed and watch mind-numbing television and "House" for a couple of hours as the stress of the day slid off of me onto the floor. Granted, a good walk would've done me more good....but it was cold yesterday. You can't expect me to walk in the cold.

Well, he left for Home Depot, and he didn't tell me so, but I know it hurt his feelings a little bit that I didn't want to go with him. So my TV watching was in part ruined by the guilt of knowing I let him down. He called about getting me gas on the way home, and I was not very communicative. He offered to get me a smoothie, and I just wasn't in the mood. I sighed (#2) and he asked, and I answered, and he wasn't sure I was telling him everything. But I really was.

Well, he got home, and I apologized if it hurt his feelings, but my husband in Home Depot wears me out! I just didn't have it in me. He understood. Then he crawled up in the bed with me, and we watched Cloris Leachman embarrass herself on DWTS. And I think he understood what I was going for.

I've got the best husband in the world.

Grace and A Piece

It's almost time to go home. I'll have to admit. I've been pretty industrious today. There's not a whole lot of messing-around time this week. I'll be pretty tightly wound.

Are you reading, babe? Take cover. I'll be home in 30 minutes.

School programs always get me into my worst anxious craze. MY JOB PERFORMANCE hangs on the balance and the shoulders of 9 year olds who have come up to me the week before the program to ask - "What's my part? I lost my lines. Did I order a tshirt? Do I get to wear a costume? I don't want to do this anymore." Neither do I, kids. Neither do I.

This is the quintessential definition of anxiety.

Now, if someone would just define quintessential for me.

It really makes a believer pump some serious faith iron to "Be anxious for nothing." This is one of my husband's favorite verses. Mine too, but it's a little harder for me to put into practice. Not because I don't want to be obedient to scripture. I just feel the tug of my emotions so strongly.

It reminds me of a bad game of tug of war I was a part of back in my days at Camp o' the Rising Son. We were playing counselors against assistant counselors. I was going to make myself the anchor, so I picked up the end of the rope and wrapped it around my waist. Only, I wasn't really the anchor. Three or so more counselors came up behind me. When the whistle blew, I got squeezed around the abdomen as the ac's pulled in one direction, and the c's behind me pulled in the other. I spun in the rope and cut a flip and landed face down on the beach. The c's in front of me tripped over me as they backed up, and we lost the match.

Can you relate to that? Have you found yourself wrapped up in the middle of an emotional tug of war only to have your guts squeezed out of you?

Vigilance makes a huge difference. The other part of that verse on anxiety says to take each matter to God in prayer. Bring it before Him. Have all the details out there for Him. For me in that game, it would have meant noticing before the game that I was in a bad position. Sometimes, prayer reveals situations that we can remove ourselves from in order to decrease our anxiety levels. For me, that happens a LOT of the time.

The verse also says to have a spirit of thanksgiving as you bring the matter in prayer. I had help in that game that I was unaware of. Had I leaned into the support that I had in the other counselors, we could have easily taken the game. I should have been thankful for them, not thinking that I would be the savior of the match with my great skills.

"And the peace of God that transcends all understanding will guard your heart and mind." Ah, peace. Or in the case of the tug of war game, the PIECE of watermelon that went to all the winners.....and I loves me some watermelon.

Peace to guard the mind....That will pretty much cure any anxiety problem there is. That and some watermelon.

God bless.

New Direction

I've been struck, as I have caught up with the lives and happenings of my friends, by the small scope of my own life. I have a precious friend who is dealing with special challenges with her little girl that I couldn't imagine. Another person I keep up with has two special needs children. I spend 90% or more of this blog talking about my perceptions and interpretations of events in my own life. It's pretty interesting to me. And sometimes, I try to make a connection or two to make it meaningful to someone else.

But is it?

I love scripture. I love digging into it to find direction and purpose. I love taking someone's hand who is struggling and leading them into the word to find the Father there, listening and ready to provide whatever is missing. This is a lot of what we're doing as youth ministers. But if there is a way I can, let me do if for you.

Let's take this blog, and turn it into a "Dear Abby" kind of column, but with the understanding that your answer is going to be conservatively Christian and determinedly scriptural.

Why make this a Q&A kind of blog? Two reasons: One) I need to get over myself. I spend way too much time thinking about ME. Two) God has given me the gift of a seminary education and a passion for scriptural truth that I need an outlet for.

You can anonymously post comments to me, or message me on facebook to get your questions in. We'll see how it goes. Maybe one question a week or so. I'm not really expecting a tidal wave of issues to come rolling in. I know there is no one that is subscribed to my blog, so I don't really know if anyone is actually following me on a regular basis. But let's get some dialogue going.

God bless.

By the Way

I finally got to that TO DO list from Wednesday. The desk is clean. The clothes are folded. The posters are delegated - now someone else can put it off. The tshirts are ordered and money turned in. All I have left to do is the rehearsal schedule. I'm so proud of myself.

Fun Times in Music Class.

1. I'm teaching a unit on jazz music to my fifth graders. This week, the lessons have been about Dixieland jazz. Seeing as how I spent a significant period of my life in New Orleans, this is my most favorite. Reminds me of an old professor who was talking about worship in a church he once served in.... "We had this guy who played the saxophone in our praise band. He was so good that at the end of a solo, you'd want to walk the aisle and accept Louis Armstrong as your savior." Yeah, I loves me some Satchmo. I love explaining to the kids how he got that nickname. (It has to do with damaging his embouchure. His technical nickname was Satchel - mouth, but it got shortened.) The response is always - eeeeewwwww, cooooooool. And when you're a kid, gross always equals cool.

2. The third graders were reading a baseball story in their classes, and I connected to the lesson with some baseball/americana songs. One thing I did was to take their lists of things you'd find at a modern baseball game and rewrite "Take Me Out to the Ballgame". Here's the result.

Take me out to the ballgame. Let me go see the pros.

Let's get food at the concession stand, a big fat pickle to hold in my hand.

We can cheer for the home team, buy an autographed ball with their name.

And it's one-two-three strikes, you're out at the old ballgame.

Let's find our seats in the stadium, wave a flag for our team.

Let's get more food, 'cause my pickle fell.

Can I have coke and some nachos as well?

Let's root, root, root for the home team. If they don't win, it's a shame.

And it's one-two-three strikes, you're out at the old ballgame.

3. Right now, the third graders are working on their Christmas program. One of the characters is a very forgetful elephant. The kids have to finish his lines, because he can't complete a sentence. Remember "Singing with Dottie"? One of the kids who inspired that story was in class when we were working on the elephant's lines. The kids were supposed to finish the line - "Let's come up with a...a...a..." "PLAN!" From this little special needs fellow, I heard, "a....a....a...CHOO!"

4. "Mrs. King, did you just say constipation?" "No, I said SYNCHOPATION."

I'm thankful for the time I actually get to spend in my class, teaching my subject, feeling accomplishment when redneck boys wearing Dukes of Hazard tshirts ask to sing "What a Wonderful World" one more time - PUHLEEEEEZ, Mrs. King!

Sometimes, I need to remind myself of why I'm doing this.

Teach Us to Pray

And they're off....

The bell just rang, and that means I have ten minutes before I have to walk down the hallway to assist one of the fourth grade teachers. But somehow I always manage to stretch that ten minutes out to fifteen-plus.

Don't judge me. I had to finish my game of solitaire.

On to the real topic now....

I was so encouraged by my devotion this morning. It scratched me right where I was itching. It started off with John 14:14 - "If you ask anything in my name, I will do it." Then the writer went on to say:

"Isn't it frustrating when you know this verse, but you don't see it fulfilled? You know there are conditions - pray in faith, don't harbour any unconfessed sin, pray according to the will of God - and even when you are mostly sure you fall inside of these guidelines, you still don't get what you're asking for."

Hello!

Before, my M.O. was to get angry with God, then confused, then so frustrated that for a while, I quit praying. Then I give God the silent treatment, then I feel like He gives it right back to me. And then I'm in some dark valley of bitterness and silence that I've created.

Solution? Well, repentance, that's for sure. But the devotional went on to reference James 1, about praying for wisdom. Wisdom to see how God IS answering my prayers, wisdom to frame my requests differently so I have a better understanding of God's will and His answers, wisdom to know which prayers and desires to release into God's hands - those things that are a part of my heart, but not His.

I read somewhere a long time ago - I think it was A.W. Tozer - that God will not allow us to have a rival for His place in our lives. That means we must hold all our desires loosely, for Him to reach in and remove, recondition, or replace.

I had to get to that place about wanting to be married. Man, was I a goofball about boys. I had to do it about my own place of ministry. We never realized the difficulty of two called ministers in the same family when Joe and I first got together. It seemed ideal at the time. But then we tried working on the same church staff. And I had to do it about waiting for someone else to ride in to care for my parents in their autumn years.

Loose hands, submitted hearts, wise prayers.

Lord, create in me a heart that sees and trusts your answers to the prayers that I pray. Teach me to pray according to Your will and in Your name. And teach me to surrender to You my desires, so You may dwell in my heart without a rival.

Amen.

Anyone for cards?

Procrastinating is so much fun. You get to do things like play solitaire, watch tv, blog...

Here is a list of things I'm avoiding at the moment. I'd rather write about them than actually do them. It's just more interesting.

• Folding three loads of clothes and starting the next round
• Organizing the tshirt orders for my 4th graders' upcoming program
• Turning the tshirt money for said program
• Retaping the treble clef onto my carpet
• Cleaning my desk
• Making seven posters of Mississippi state symbols for program
• Planning a rehearsal schedule for the program

Some of this, it's probably not very wise that I let go too long. So I'll kick in at the last minute. But this week, I have had the "can't get right's". But you know what makes me feel better?

Solitaire. I think I'll go play some now. I could lesson plan, but .... why?

Catching my breath

So, the canker sores are still hanging on for dear life. It's kinda scriptural in a way, because the old have gone, and new have come.

In spite of the glorious fall weather, of the first time seeing my breath in the mornings, I find myself in one of those not-so-rare moods of disgust and skin crawly-ness about little inconveniences. Much like last week, when my husband almost got raw hamburger in the face for his helpful hints for forming the patties, I am in no mood to be messed with. It seems that even though I can now see my breath, I still can't catch it.

Finish this phrase: "I am sick and _____". No, not deflicted. Not this time. I'm sick and tired.

I find myself tired of my routine, tired of lack of respect at my work. "It's just music." Do they not understand how many of these below-average students will need some other fine arts or athletic door to make college a reality in their futures. I'm tired that my days are so tightly wound. Monday night is music lessons and band practice till 9pm. Tuesdays is menu planning and grocery shopping - except that this week, we are peeling up loose floor tiles to get ready for carpeting. Yay! Wednesdays is church, and supper after. We don't get home until - yup, 9pm.

Thursday is my most and least favorite day of the week. Most, because we don't ever have anything planned, and we can do something fun and nice. Least, because it usually hits me during dinner that I have to get up the next morning for one more freakin' day of school.

Weekends are taken up with youth or AWANA or young adult activities, which are usually fun but don't leave much time for family.

Did I mention we're trying to get PREGNANT!!!!!

I know I rant once in a while about needing more peace, needing more balance in my life. Taking more time in the mornings is good. I'm still getting up in time to soak in my scripture reading and my coffee in the mornings. I'd like to get some walking in everyday, and some more sitting, snuggling, snapping pictures (my latest hobby), and writing. But I feel like everything in my life is already being measured in 10 minute increments. Where would it all go?

"O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am! Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath!" Psalm 39:4-5

You said it, Dave.

The Sick and Deflicted

When I was little, I would bless the food at a meal, and trying to follow daddy's example of praying for the sick, I would ask God to bless the "sick and deflicted". Well, I've been deflicted, afflicted, whatever, this week.

I have had the distinct pleasure - nay, the privelege - to go through this week with SIX canker sores in my mouth. As I read through the first two chapters of Job earlier this week, I found a bosom companion. Seeing as how I had no clay pot shards with which to scrape myself, I tried other homeopathic remedies:

Rinsed with Dr. Tichenor's antiseptic {It burns us, precious!}, rinsed with salt water, and even swooshed yogurt around in my mouth. My mother keeps telling me to try buttermilk. Uh, no.

Nothing brought lasting relief. The salt water alleviated pain for the longest stretch, but also left a foul taste in my mouth.

Hormones are so lovely.

As of today, I have four left, and they are gigantic doozies. We menu plan early in the week, and do all our shopping on one day. It saves the gas of multiple trips for random items. I was so looking forward to some good ol' burgers from the grill later in the week. That was last night's menu. Alas, I did not get to enjoy them. I ate so slowly, and pushed everything to the roof of my mouth with my tongue. (Most of the sores are around my bottom jaw.) I wasn't thinking about the rich taste of the beefy goodness. I was just thinking about how I never before noticed how sharp the edges of grilled meat feel in the mouth. I picked at the spicy tater babies that accompanied the meal. The texture and spices were almost too painful to bear....almost.

Lunch at school today will be a couple of cartons of chocolate milk. I just don't think I could chew anything else. My kingdom for a Smoothie King!!

Still.....all this hormonal upheaval is a good sign that this month's round of treatment is doing its job. I've noticed temperature spikes. I'm just hoping that they're not the signs of any of these sores getting infected. Like I have said before, ovulation and pregnancy symptoms overlap so many other health conditions that it's hard to disseminate. And yet, even in the intense pain that I am in, I am so hopeful, so optimistic, and have a new set of baby names all picked out. Our church secretary is praying we'll have twins. Anything to keep from having to go through this mess again!

Anybody feel like bringing me a Smoothie for lunch? Seriously.

A Burnout Story....

My husband and I have been in ministry together for almost seven years. In that time, we've had our few run ins with ministry burnout. You know, that feeling where if someone else needs another moment of your personal time, or says, "Bro. Joe, when you have a moment, I need to talk to you about something," only to find out that they want to get you behind a closed door and relay to you every way that you have disappointed and not met their expectations - which, let's face it, were probably really unrealistic to begin with - you know you'll just go through the roof. And there's never a chance for family recreation, because just when you make a good plan, something comes up, someone passes away, or you start feeling guilty about how much it would cost or the amount of time you have to take off. Or as in our case, the time that I'm off - summers - is the busiest time of the year for youth ministry.

Burnout for us has meant a lot of tears, sometimes bitterness that takes more than a good cry and a vacation to get over.Yeah, it's a sacrifice a lot of times. But this has been my worldview for a lot longer than seven years. And when we find ourselves getting into a place of bitterness or despair, where we lose our passion for what we're doing, and we feel more and more attacked by Satan, I am reminded of a story, a warning to slow down the train before it derails.

I was born into a ministry family. My father had been preaching in Florida for six years before I was born. A couple of months after my birth, we moved to Mississippi, so my folks could be near their families and aging parents. A couple of years after moving from Florida, the wife of an old preacher friend from down there called my dad.

"Dick, Jimmy's snapped. I think he's having a nervous breakdown. He's just talking crazy, and I can't handle him right now. Can he come stay with you? He needs some time away, time to rest and just get his head right."

Said my father - with two small children in the house - "Sure, send him on. I'll pray with him, give him a room and some time to think."

I don't remember Jimmy arriving. I remember being moved to my brother's bedroom, which means Jimmy had taken up residence in my room. I'm not sure how many days he had been with us, if he had eaten meals, anything like that.

What I remember is being yanked from my brother's bed very early on a Sunday morning, and carried out the back door to the porch, and lifted up over Jimmy's head. I remember him calling out to God, "Lord, give me faith like this child. Make her my angel. Let her show me the way...."

I remember screaming my head off for daddy. I didn't know what was going on. I remember the back door nearly flying off the hinges as daddy roared down the porch steps. Jimmy turned, still holding me up to the porch ceiling, and faced daddy. I don't remember any offered explanation, just a quick jab from daddy to Jimmy's jaw, and daddy's huge arms catching me in my midair freefall as Jimmy stumbled down to the slab.

Momma was close behind, and Matt behind her. Daddy handed me off to momma, as I was still screaming my head off. Then daddy said, "Jimmy, it's about time you pack your bags. You're going back to Florida today."

I wasn't present for the next part of the story, but this is how daddy tells it:

Daddy hastily helped Jimmy get his stuff together, and made a quick call to Jimmy's wife.

"Jimmy's nuts. I'm putting him on a plane out of Jackson back to Tallahassee. You be there to meet him and get him to a doctor."

The whole two hour ride to Jackson, Jimmy raved about God speaking to him in dreams, telling him to blow things up. He quoted and misquoted scriptures. You could hear the thump of marbles hitting the floorboard of the car as Jimmy lost it, little by little, the more they drove. Daddy was afraid of Jimmy acting out at the airport, when he saw a little yellow brick church on the southbound side of Highway 49. The sign said "Florence Assembly of God". They were only about thirty minutes from the airport at this point. There were cars in the parking lot. Sunday services were underway.

Daddy made a U-turn at the emergency turnaround. He took Jimmy by the arm and led him into the small church. A stunned congregation turned to see the two men coming through the double doors. The pianist stopped playing, and daddy asked the preacher, "Does anybody here know how to cast out a demon?"

The whole front row stood up.

They laid hands on Jimmy and prayed for him, for his health, for his journey, for his wife, and then they prayed some more, but Daddy couldn't understand them. It was in an unknown tongue.

Daddy and Jimmy got back in the car and finally got to the airport and the ticket counter. The woman behind the counter asked if there were any bags to check, and Jimmy threw his briefcase up on the ledge.

"I've got enough C4 in this briefcase to blow up this whole airport."

Daddy, with a deadpan face, replied, "No he doesn't. He's just crazy."

There was no time for a good explanation. A couple of federal marshalls stepped out of nowhere and pinned Jimmy and Daddy to the ground. They were handcuffed and sequestered in a dark little room, reminiscent of noir detective films. The marshalls questioned them separately. Jimmy raved like a lunatic. Daddy had a chance to finally explain the situation.

A few phone calls were made, one to check for prior criminal behavior, one to Jimmy's wife. One of the marshalls agreed to escort Jimmy on the flight home, seeing as how he was in no shape to travel alone. Daddy was released, and rode home as Jimmy was walked to his departure gate in handcuffs.

We never saw Jimmy again.

Today's Big Achievement

I walked through Belk department store today. I tried on clothes that had been marked down all the way to $4.98. They fit. The pants were one size smaller. They fit, too. I was really excited by the bargains, and the good fit of the pants. And they had coordinated jewelry on sale, too. I was just thinking I needed a few new pieces of jewelry.

But then I remembered that in about three weeks, I may discover that I'll be moving to a different section of the department store for clothing - namely the maternity section. The pants that fit so well today, a size smaller, would become obsolete for the next nine months as my body proportions change. And I'd rather have that money to spend on new maternity clothes.

So I left everything in the fitting room, hung properly, but not re-merchandized. I'm a little guilty about that. But I'm feeling pretty self-righteous for walking out of the store empty handed.

Then I climbed into my car that had been parked in a reserved space for expectant mothers.

Does this qualify me for walking by faith, not by sight, since I didn't see the sign?

Speaking of Holidays....

This has got to be one of the funniest things I have ever heard. We had Bible study with the youth last night. It was about the gift that Christ was to the world, and how he fulfilled ancient prophecies in very specific ways. And Joe made the students recount who was present at the manger scene.

We got the expected: Mary, Joseph, Jesus, sheep, cows, a donkey, the shepherds.

And the three wizards.

Seriously.

Laughed my rear off.

Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Lessons

I know it's a little early to jump to Thanksgiving, but as I walked past the Christmas trees in Wal-Mart tonight, I figured it was reasonable to make the stop in between. Before you know it, we are going to have one big three month holiday called Hallowingmas, where we dress up as giant turkeys and go door to door asking strangers for PS3 games and BabyAlive.

I have often flipped back and forth between the answer to this question: If God's main goal is His glory - since anything else would be idolatry or sin on His part, not an option - then how can He work things out for MY good? How is MY good tied up in HIS glory?

One way (an erroneous one) that I have tried to answer this in the past was to say: It's only the selfish American mindset that makes me think I have any stake in what God is doing in the world. The more I think things have to work out for me, the more frustrated I am when they do not. So I need to get over myself and just face that God does what God wants to do. Yes, He is loving. Yes, He is good. But He is not concerned with just how things affect me. So I don't need to be either. That longing I have for more intimacy and more knowledge of God is just an over-romanticized and western egocentric concept that my experiences don't always back-up.

Well, many a denomination has left the reservation because people started believing and obeying their feelings and experiences over what God's word says. The funny thing about my experiences is I tend to think of them negatively, just because I'm overcompensating for my disdain for the blab it and grab it sort of religiosity. I don't want to be one of those, but I don't want to swing the pendulum too far in the other direction either, as though God doesn't consider me at all. Let's get back to the source.

What does the BIBLE say?

• "For I know the plans I have for YOU" - Jeremiah 29:11
• "God works all things together for the good of those who love Him" - Romans 8:28
• "He will give you the desires of YOUR heart" - Psalm 37:4
• "Come to me, YOU who thirst" - Isaiah 55:1
• "I have loved YOU with an everlasting love" - Jeremiah 31:3
• "He was pierced for OUR transgressions, crushed for OUR sins. The punishment that brought US peace was upon Him, and by His wounds WE are healed." Isaiah 53:5

It all kind of made sense when I got back to this one, simple scripture. The 23rd Psalm reads, "He guides me in paths of righteousness for His Name's sake."

My good is directly linked to God's glory, because it has to do with His nature as a Father, Provider, Protector, Redeemer. If He does not guide me down the best path for my life and relationship with Him, then it is His name that fails. He has not shown Himself to be a good Father, or any of the other descriptions worthy of our All-Powerful, Loving God.

Consider this: "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?
Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though
you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more
will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"
Matthew 7:9-11

It reminds me of waiting for Thanksgiving dinner to get ready. It seems like every year, no matter what time things get started, nothing's ready to eat until about 2:30 - a miserable joke of a lunch-time. Old women in the kitchen chase you with wooden spoons, lest you should manage to get a finger into the questionable gelatinous filling of the pecan pie - not to taste it, just to ask, "What manner of creature is this?"

The bread is always the last thing in the oven. After the pies, casseroles, and turkey have been pulled. Everyone knows that as soon as the rolls are done, we can pray and eat. Stomachs begin to rumble in anticipation and someone hollers out, " 'Bout how long till the bread's done?"

That's a pretty good analogy to my prayer life right now. I'm praying for bread, and everything else is ready to go. All we're waiting on is the bun in the oven. It hasn't even been put in to bake yet. I know God is good. I know He's not going to give me a stone. He may have someone bring bread to us - e.g. adoption. Or He may let us make some of the homemade variety. Either way, I can trust that He knows what's best, and when it's best. And it'll be so satisfying as we sit at the table and count our many blessings.

What kind of bread are your waiting for? Keep waiting for it. Don't crank the oven up, which is an old trick that doesn't work - because you'll end up burning the bottoms of the rolls, or scorching the outside of the bread, while the inside doesn't have time to fully cook. In other words, you'll get an answer that came by YOUR hands, not God's. This is as much a reminder to myself as it is an encouragement for you, one of my three faithful readers. God does care about how your specific needs affect YOU, as much as how it affects His plan and glory. And He's in the kitchen right now. Just trust.

Happy Hallowingmas, you big turkey!

Time Well Spent

Today, I spent about an hour waiting to have bloodwork drawn at my OB-GYN's. I've had a reoccurring fever for about five days. Nothing severe. Just some neck ache and a few chills whenever it got above 99.5 or so, which wasn't often. That's not what sent me to the doctor, though.

The fever virus, as it is being called, is making the rounds. For me, it was just bad timing. The fever, along with a little bit of nausea and the soreness was hitting me about the same time as I was supposed to find out whether I was pregnant this month or not. And everything going on felt like some kind of symptom, because there are so many variations associated with pregnancy. It's totally confusing and frustrating.

So I took the day off from school to go to the doctor. They drew blood for a pregnancy test, and if negative, I would start another cycle of clomid. If positive, well, there you go.

In the week prior (see "Narrow Road"), I had a lot of soul-searching and reprioritizing that went on. Most of our conversations were about me totally submitting to God's will and not questioning His timing. Sunday morning, before I got up to take a home PT, I prayed in the bed that God would give me the appropriate response to whatever the results were, and to not put my desire for a child above my desire to worship Him that morning. Because it's hard to get motivated for worship as you find out your prayers for another month have gone unanswered.

But this month was different.

No, I'm not pregnant. BUT - without going into the gory details - the clomid did it's job. I could have gotten pregnant this month. You can thank Gustav and Ike for it not happening. Timing was not our friend, with all the extra activity and guests around.

Then again, God's timing is perfect. Joe wants to go to Honduras in June for a missions trip. The baby would have come right at that time, and I really think God wants him to go. And I'm sure there are other reasons I'm not even aware of (you think?) that God has waited for another month to go by.

But now we know the clomid can work. And it won't work outside of God's sovereign and omnipotent hand, which makes me feel better about the whole question of whether we're trying to do God's job for Him.

So, tomorrow, Tuesday October 7, we start the third clomid treatment. And I start it with great hope and expectation - more than I've had before. Not because I think the clomid is so great or powerful, but because I am so sure of God's greatness.

The times and days are in His hands.

The Narrow Road

I had a great routine my senior year at Ole Miss. (BTW - Heck yes on beating Florida!) I got up at 5:30, went to the gym and worked out. Then I came home and showered, had breakfast, and time alone with God. By then it was time to start walking the half mile to campus. I had all this time to think and to commune and to get my mind, heart, and body in step with God.

Then I got married.

My brother warned me that it would be harder to find that time alone once you shared life with another person that you wanted to spend that time with. And I really have struggled to get back into a routine that would allow for the kind of communion I enjoyed that last year. I grew increasingly frustrated with different devotion books. I would work out of them without any consistency until I had so lost interest or momentum that it wasn't worth the effort anymore. I tried reading through books of scripture, but got tired of my immature way of reading the Bible like a high school yearbook - always looking for MY picture in it.

And hurt feelings over past church issues and delayed answers to prayer added to the divide as Satan slowly worked to sift me away from my intimacy with Christ.

Finally, something snapped.

I sat in church Sunday, realizing how long it had been since I had fellowshipped with God. I've prayed, I've whined, I've cried, I've confessed, I've read. But I've been very self-centered in how I have viewed my relationship with God. I have had moments of worship at MY convenience. I had not made a commitment to spend time with Him. I missed that intimacy. And I was finally at the place of being willing to give up something to renew it.

This week, even though it was my morning duty week, and I had to be at school 15 minutes earlier, I got up earlier still, and after a quick shower, stumbled to the coffee pot at 6am to get a warm cup of Joe, my Bible, and a little devotional book my other warm Joe picked out called "Walk With God". Since those were the days I had been missing, I thought it appropriate.

I put Joe's big sweatshirt on with my flannel pj's and sat in a rocking chair on the front porch. I read and just let the words soak in. I stared in the direction of the faint pink light that was just beginning to show above the pine trees as I would lift my prayers up to God. And as I used to experience in those college days, I could tangibly feel God's tender presence, a light touch on my head, and then my chin being lifted up.

It has been so long - by my own doing - since I have found Him so near. We covered a lot of things this week that I have allowed to steal away that intimacy. I felt like I was living out the words to the song I wrote about eight years ago - "Narrow Road".

It seems like only yesterday that we walked hand in hand in sweet communion,

but then again, it was, until I left my heart unguarded, and faced the open road,

lacking discretion, and hurt us both so much.

One step led to another and before too long, I discovered that wider roads don't lead

to everything they promise.

It seems hard to believe that just a prayer of faith is all I need, and repentance

to find my way back home. I feel like I should bring you more than honesty.

I don't deserve your forgiveness, so on my knees I come.

Take me back as your servant, Father, Your child is returning.

I never wanted for anything when I lived by Your commands.

Then You stand me to my feet, and surprise me with a table,

and a robe and a ring, and a kiss on the cheek and you say,

Welcome Home!

Narrow road, I hear you calling,

"Child, come home into my warm embrace."

"Your father waits with delight to receive you. Let the light of My love lead you

as you find your place along the narrow road."

What a new day this is. What a new place I find myself in, even as it is a return. Still so much new excitement to be found. Thank You, God, for bringing me to that place of surrender, of desire for You. And of total rest in who You are.