My darling son looked up at me, his eyes were moist and his face was troubled. I leaned in close and asked what was wrong. "Junior will never know Aunt Margaret. She was such a great lady." We were at a memorial service for a great aunt who had passed on. She was a Christian lady who was known for her hard work and many good deeds in her church, many of which her family and friends were reflecting. My son was very moved by this outpouring of gratitude for the life that this lady had lead.

Everyday we have a choice to be a great person or not. We have the choice to go out of our way and make a difference for others. Yes, Aunt Margaret is passed on, and so have many other great people, but we don't have to miss out on the great people that are still here. And we can be a great person ourselves. And we will never forget those great people that have brought us here.

By the way Junior is officially a BOY!!!

Love, A.!

Grace and Salt and Love

The face glanced in my direction. For a split second that has been etched in my mind, the pain and worry was apparent. The wrinkled forehead and sad eyes that met mine. I realized that although I did not know her troubles nor she mine, we shared the same facial expression. Darling Spouse and I were deep in a conversation on the ride home from church on Sunday, when we passed the lady and her companion. My heart immediately felt for her, and then I examined my own expression. Not much better. How was I supposed to shine forth Christ's love with such a painful and worried expression?

I see this look on people's faces more and more. Anxious, not knowing what the future holds. Fear of the unknown. The look of someone who does not know the heavenly Father, who deeply loves and cherishes us. Who does not know the Son who is this very minute in heaven preparing a room for us in a place that has no weeping, or fear. Who does not know the peace that comes with the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Someone who doesn't know grace or mercy, or salvation. Why do we need to worry about our external trappings? Houses, cars, clothes..... Clothes?.... Why do you worry about these things? Does He not clothe the lilies of the field which are here today and frostbit tomorrow? Does He not cherish His children much more then lilies?

I feel the need to reach out to people. I want to share the Truth so they can be set free. But who would listen to me with my face just as worried as theirs? I need to fix my heart and mind on my eternal home and leave behind the pains and fears. They are not mine, I have given them away.

We are to speak with grace seasoned with salt and love. But what comes from the mouth is an outpouring of the heart. If my heart is wrapped up in the things of this world how can it? My thoughts need to be changed to thoughts of Grace and Salt and Love. I need to read and study and memorize the scriptures more and more. Thank you MamaLadyBug, for knowing what we need. : )

A.

what is it???

OK It's driving me nuts. We were talking at work about Christmas and symbols and what they mean. So wow here is my chance to talk about Jesus being the light, the lamb, pure as snow and all the other things. So one gal and I are explaining the candy cane and the jingle bell. THEN some one says there is a legend of a cardinal. Well, I've never heard this. We did a web search and are coming up empty the best I found was at a Christian gift site abbeypress.com it says something about doves watching Jesus. SO...how do we get to a cardinal?? Anyone know? It's bugging me.

Marines turn to God

Pray for our men and women in Iraq. Here's one report of revival going on among the ranks. : D



Marines turn to God: "'I just wanted to make sure I did this before I headed into the fight,'
he said on the military base not far from the city of Fallujah."


Bless 'em, Lord!

it's been a while

It has been a while since i posted. I can say i have had some ups and downs. Tears and smiles. The Lord gives and takes. If you can adjust to that prinicipal then you can accept life. I have had some dark what is my purpose days and some bright God is gret days. They balance.
I will say I am spiritually hungry for some meat. Lately I have been getting crusts of bread. But I want the meat. So ladies you are missed. My spiritual stomach is grumbling like a baby who has been switched to solid food and then all of a sudden placed back on milk.
Soon I need fed.

Savor

This afternoon, having come home exhausted, I napped a few minutes, got up and made some coffee, sat down and read this article. Peggy Noonan is a favorite writer of mine. She was a speechwriter for Reagan, and has opined conservatively (and beautifully) for the Wall Street Journal for years. So go grab a cup of tea or coffee (peach tea, Mamaladybug), settle down and follow the link.
OpinionJournal - Peggy Noonan


And after you've read the article, here's one more thing to savor: In the past few weeks, more believers have found their way to their knees to pray for the country than we've seen since post September 11th. Many prayed for a Bush victory, some prayed for a Kerry victory, most prayed for God's will for America. But the point is, many of Christ's people, who are called by His name, humbled themselves, prayed, and sought God's face, and in the process found themselves changed--finding the faults and turning away from them. Haven't I heard that somewhere? What's the rest of the verse? Oh, ye-a-h--IF they do that, "...then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and heal their land." Savor.

And Selah.


(II Chronicles 7:14)

Voting Day

It's about 2:00 US central time as I write this, and my day started early. I got out to the poll as soon as it opened, since I go to work about that time anyway. To my (pleasant) surprise, there was no line waiting. I walked right in and voted. There was no nastiness at the poll, although I had to drive around quite a number of signs that had been ripped up and thrown in the road (mostly Republican, I might say).

People at the poll were quite pleasant. I was the first to vote in my district. : ) I was offered the traditional "I voted" sticker, and I accepted. I've turned it down in the past, thinking it just a little ostentatious. This time, though, I thought of Afghan voters who proudly displayed their stained thumbs. Voting is a good thing. Democracy, I think, is a gift from God. So I proudly wore my sticker this year.

When I got to school, I was asked in EVERY class who I voted for. I explained to the kids that part of the political process was the right to not have to say who you voted for. But then I told them I voted for the issues important to me--morality and security. I got a lot of smiles.

My 2nd-3rd grade class is quite active politically. And quite conservative, I might add. Most of them had homemade Bush bumper stickers taped to their desks. And taped to their lockers. And taped to their tummies and rear ends. I felt a little sorry for the Democratic intern from the local University who came in to help out with their reading. She told them who she voted for. As I was leaving, I think their homeroom teacher was heading off a riot. Anyhow--they may need some help with appropriate response to differing opinions, but I'm glad they're engaged politically.

Am anxiously praying. My hubbie struggles to understand God's place in the political process, and thus tends to wonder, "Why pray?" Is God on one side and not on the other? Probably not, actually. But I think of Joshua in the run-up to the big battle of Jericho. He ran into an angel in the night, standing there with a drawn sword. He asked the angel whose side he was on--ours or theirs. The angel said, "Neither. I'm commander of God's army." With all the help God gave the Israelites you would have thought He was on their side. But I guess God thinks about things more accurately than we do. THEY were on GOD's side. HE was not automatically on THEIR side. And so it is with the political process. HE is not affiliated with the Republicans or the Democrats. HE is not exclusively on the side of the football player who kneels and prays in the end zone after a touchdown. But HE sees when WE are on HIS side. And so He blesses us. So I think it's important to be looking carefully at which side aligns itself more closely with God. And that's why I'm confident that my prayers matter today.

Whatever happens--God is with us. Emmanuel.

Beauty and the Blood

This is a strange time in my life. In some ways this is a dry time--very little sense of the personal presence of God. Fortunately, I have learned not to depend on feelings. Fickle things, those feelings. Like children needing to be herded and controlled as best we can.

Here's another way to look at our feelings about God. Think of a train with one engine, one car and one caboose. The engine that runs the train is "fact." The second car is "faith." And finally, at the end of the train, "feelings." The fact is, I'm blood-bought, and Christ paid the price to redeem me. As previously posted, my "self" is now the temple of the living God. He is with me. Period. So the second part, the car of the train, is "faith." The reason faith is not the engine is that you can have faith in all sorts of silly things. Bambino curses--that sort of thing. A rabbit's foot in the pocket, the need for a certain team to win their last home game in order for the incumbent to win the election--I actually heard that one this weekend. So you have to have your faith following a factual thing. The fact--I'm blood-bought. God is present in my life. I have faith in the presence of God, and one of these days, that "feeling" caboose will catch up.

Anyway, here's the thing. Although there's no measurable sense of the presence of God in my life, I see the evidence in profound ways. Like the way my church and my outside-of-church Bible study keep saying the same things.

Last week at Bible study we were talking about the tabernacle and the Holy of holies. I remember last year we were working on some artsy things at church and were struck by how God annointed the artists who built the furniture in the tabernacle.

When I was little my dad, a pastor, bought and built a little paper model of the tabernace. It was fascinating to me. He used model airplane paint to coat the bronze altar bronze and the Ark of the Covenant gold. I remember being especially taken with the glittery gold Ark, with the little angels facing one another, their wings touching overhead. It seemed such a beautiful thing. So all my life I've held this image of a sparkling gold Ark of the Covenant, where somehow the Spirit of God lived, and once a year a high priest would go in and perform some sort of duty which was vague in my mind, but he got to see that beautiful thing that had been built by some annointed artisan.

Then last week we were talking about that ritual the high priest performed. Get this! He splattered the pretty ark with blood. Seven times. Every year. Think about it. Year after year, splatter after splatter, the layer of dried blood built up, until the beutiful Ark became a grim spectacle. Imagine the High Priest. Every year the big Day of Atonement would get here, a day of dread, because every time you entered that room you took your life into your own hands. Or into God's hands. Because if you touched the altar, you died. If you went in without washing properly, you died. So in the back of his mind, there had to be a certain amount of dread associated with that task. With the scene set by an undercurrent of dread, you tiptoed in to be faced with the image of two blood-covered angels standing guard over the Presence of God. Because who would dare go in there and clean the Ark? Forty years of blood covered it, transforming it from a thing of beauty to a grim place of slaughter. Like a forty-year-old crime scene.

Then they talked about the VERY same thing in Sunday School. It has to mean something. But what? Why would God go to all the trouble to instruct the artists to make a thing of such beauty when He knew what would happen to it?

Hmm. One clue was brought out both at Bible study and Sunday school. God sees sin as a grim thing. And He had to find a way to teach us how He felt about sin. The picture of blood was a way to do that. As sad and hard as it is to slaughter the best of your herd in sacrifices, God considered the act of reconciling us to Himself to be more important than the life of good sheep, goats and bulls. Not that He didn't value that life. But given the choice of allowing bulls to live and keeping us out of hell, He chose our eternal souls. We had to know the awfulness of sin. And that blood-spattered altar, and the continuous sacrifice of burning flesh going on outside on the brass altar, with its own blood-spatters and the stench of the whole place of slaughter, gave us a picture of the awfulness of sin to Him.

Maybe the beauty of the Ark of the Covenant showed how we were meant to be. And maybe the blood helps us to see the defacement that sin wreaks upon us. And so this whole picture of a travelling slaughter house that went with the Isrealites wherever they went. They were followed around by a giant object lesson of what a grim mess their lives were.

You know, when I was a kid I remember reading a piece of fiction (?) in which a dog killed a chicken. And in order to keep it from becoming a chicken killer, they tied the chicken to his collar in such a way that he could not remove it. The chicken rotted on the back of his neck, and nobody could stand to go near him, and eventually even the dog himself couldn't stand the stench of that defilement back there. After a couple of weeks of misery, the dog never touched a chicken again as long as he lived.

In a way, the dog has a better memory than we do. My sin caused the slaughter of the living Christ. Did you see the Passion of the Christ? Afterwards, I felt I could never sin again, knowing what my sin caused. So how long did that last? Not long, I can tell you. But Christ chose to buy us with His precious, grim sacrifice anyway, and still the Holy Spirit chooses to tabernacle with us, even when we defile the temple (our selves) with our sin. God is most generous with us.

Oredombay

Some of the folks at Google must have been a little bored.
Google in Piglatin
Remember when we had time to get bored?

God in His Temple

Lately our Sunday School class has been all about worship. Very cool stuff.

The teacher has been coming at it from the angle of the Temple of God. One Sunday he talked about the first meeting place of God and man--the garden of Eden, in the cool of the day. Then, after that was spoiled, later God established a meeting place at the Tabernacle. A place where God could not only meet with people, but teach them more about who He is. He's holy, someone to be reverenced, but someone who will go to great lengths to meet with his people. Then when Jesus came to earth, He was Emmanuel--God with us. Jesus was the ultimate provision of a "meeting place"--God walking among us. When you saw him, you saw God. He was also to teach about God. And He was to manifest God fellowshipping with man. Then when he returned to heaven the Holy Spirit would come to dwell within us, thus marking each of US as the temple of God. I Corinthians 6:19 says we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. The word "naos," translated temple, was one of two words for "temple" used in the New Testament. The other one referred to the temple as a whole structure. This word "naos" refers more specifically to the "holy of holies," the place where God dwelled, above the ark of the covenant, the one place in all of earth God designated as his official home on earth, the one place we could be assured of God meeting with humanity. A place so holy only one priest a year could go in there. And even then, he wore bells, and a string that led back out to someone outside the room. They would listen to the bells. If somehow the priest displeased God, the silence of the bells would signal that he was dead and must be dragged out by the string. It was that holy. Now we are the "holy of holies" of God--the designated earthly meeting place of God with humanity. Kind of blows your mind when you think of it that way. And next time I'm tempted to do, say, or even think something that would dishonor God, hopefully this thought will draw me up short before I dishonor God in His temple.
Allthings2all
Another blog that's worth reading. All interesting, but scroll down to "Brokenness and Beauty" to read more on "treasure in earthen vessels."

Getting caught up

I wrote this a week or so ago, I need to get back in the routine of posting because I keep on getting more things that I have to share. If I don't share them, I'll forget them forever!

about 9-15-2004

Well yes, the year has gotten off to a busy start! Technically, I did pray for this in one way or another, so I'm not complaining. I've been improving on my bible reading, too! It's so good to get back into it. Reading the bible always surprises me with neat stuff. I wish that I could devote a lot more time to it, and study and to writing too, but that's not my current calling. I've been enjoying my work, both at home and at the Photography studio, although there are whisperings from deep down inside me wanting to be back at home only. There is a sadness about coming home to a messy house and knowing that it will just have to be that way, because there is so much more work to do.

--
about 9-1-2004

Darling Husband and I were out picking apples from the tree. We got an amazing crop! It was so pretty out there that late afternoon with the golden sunlight streaming through the tree's branches. Like a Maxfield Parrish illustration. How bittersweet this time of year seems. I love the weather and the bounty of the harvest, but everything sings of the leaving of summer and coming of winter, the crickets, the birds, the thump of apples to anxious to leave their home, even the air feels like the passing of time. This year I'm looking forward even more so to next spring ;)

As we were picking apples, I noticed a branch that I'm familiar with, as with most of the tree's branches. This particular one is one that used to be two, but over many such autumns, has twisted together and grown sometimes as 2, many times as 1, always never far. That day I immediately thought of that old story about the footprints in the sand. This tree branch is like my Christian life. Close to Jesus, at times more so than others, maybe someday we will be so fused we are inseparable! It's my turn to make a twist again and start growing closer because I'm starting to feel to much myself.

about 9-7-2004

Just one week after we had picked apples, my "d-buddy" - accountability partner - quoted the scripture that he had memorized for the week. Of the several verses Psalm 1:3 "He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers."

My mind was immediately refocused on my apple tree, which season has come and is bearing 3 fold what it did last season. I pray that I will drink the living water - God's word and prepare myself for when my fruits will be in season again, yet more bountiful. Winter although it may appear dead and lifeless on the outside is a period of storing up energy and contemplating the burst of growth in the spring, its the slumber that is needed for the next growing season.

10-5-2004

My darling son was wanting to play basketball with his dad. But like so many nights this harvest season, my darling husband was working late. The sun was already disappear and dusk was upon us. I said, 'come on, lets go out and play before it gets too dark.' We went outside in the cold night, we could almost see our breath. Both of us in our jackets and sandals, in our rush to get outside. Oh well, we are just going to play to 15 baskets between us, it won't take long. How good my son has been getting with getting the ball up into the hoop! Before we knew it our fingers and toes were warm with the exercise and we had made it to 15. Still his father wasn't home. He wanted to practice with the kickball. So we head out to the back yard in the dark of the night, illuminated by the house's lights, we practiced until he got 20 good kicks. OK, its time, we've got to go on inside. As soon as we got inside and got our feet cozy in our slippers, we heard the familiar sound of my darling husbands truck pulling in. Before I knew it my son's sandals were back on, stocking cap pulled down over his ears and was out the door. Honey, we already practiced basketball, its dark and cold, and close to bedtime. His reply was, yea we did, but I haven't practiced with Dad.

While they were outside shooting baskets and talking about the day, I started heating up the cocoa. I need to remember to be as determined to spend that 15 minutes with my spiritual Father.

-------

I hope I didn't overwhelm you!
Selah!
A.

A Gem of a Blog

I stumbled across this wonderful blog some time back. She's visited our blog and commented, but her comment seems to have disappeared (at least I can't bring it up). Anyhow, here's proof that Selah sisterhood (and brotherhood) is an international phenomenon. A Philipino Bible college student finds time to Selah and blog.

Kleronomos


BTW, her username is "heiress." Could be a technical conflict with our own "heiress" prevented her comment from appearing.

Pray for the Hostages

I don't agree politically with everything this article says, but it did remind me this morning of the situation over in Iraq. I'm weary of hearing about the latest person being beheaded just for being in the country to help out. Christians, Jews, Muslims, non-religious people, there seems to be no discrimination. The only common denominator seems to be--they were there to help. Barbaric.

Anyhow, when Hensley was beheaded this past week, it hit me even harder than the others. When I was little I went to school in Georgia with some Hensley boys. They would be in their early forties now. I wonder if they are related to the latest victim? And I was really convicted. Have I prayed for the hostages like I should?

Sometimes I think we don't pray as much as we should, because we're afraid if God won't grant our request. And then it might make God look weak to us, or to others. And so, to protect God's reputation we don't pray--or we pray apologetically, with little faith.

Well, I think God can handle His own reputation. He told us to pray. We just do it. God, I pray for the rescue or release of Kenneth Bigley. Please intervene on his behalf. Bring him home to Great Britain. Enable him to see his new grandchild. Thank You.

Muslim Envoys Off to Baghdad

School's in Session

Well, I guess I should blog a little more often, huh? Suddenly life is busier than it has been in years.

When my family was just getting started I used to chomp at the bit, wishing I had more to be busy at, feeling guilty for doing nothing other than nourishing and changing babies. Not that that doesn't keep you plenty busy, but I was going through a big adjustment, and it was time to be less busy for a while. During that era I had an epiphany which helped me to settle into that homey life. It was this: Someday I'll be busy again, and I'll miss the idyllic life of caring for babies, garden and hubby.

Well, it's here. I'm busy again, and I DO miss the idyllic life, but I'm relishing the challenge of teaching music--not just sight reading and vocal coaching, but of passing along a love of music--and of God. It is, after all, a Christian school, and it's okay for me to do that.

Tuesday night before I went to bed I was working on a guitar arrangement of some of Jomama's music from the cantata. Well, the guitar session turned into a worship session, as I listened to all the music from the cantata, sang and cried, and talked to God about all the feelings that went into that project. I got to bed around midnight. The alarm was set for 5:15 am. Bummer. But I was going on some advice I gleaned from a dream A. had a long time ago, and since it was obviously God-orchestrated, I trusted Him for strength for the next day. Miraculously, I had even more energy than usual. Go figure.

Then last night I saw a bunch of the Selah sisters! There was this cool group hug, and when Heiress asked about the new job, I commented that now I put together two programs a year, without the help I used to get.

To backtrack, last year we all worked together to produce this incredible cantata experience. It was a team effort like I've never seen. Like the Body of Christ, each part, catching the same vision all at the same time. Thus, the comment, two programs instead of one, and without the help.

Later I thought, no, not without the help. I've unconsciously adopted the model, and have been using it freely. The Jr. high-high school age kids are working to help mentor the younger ones. Kids have been bringing in CD's to help me pick out music. They bring in instruments they know how to play. A couple of technical minds are working with the sound tech, shadowing him. And I've got these two third graders with incredible gifts in movement, who have pretty nearly choreographed the whole thing.

I think in the fall I may use the model even more overtly. Someday these ruffians will be leaders in their churches, and even more than reading music, I'd like for them to have had the experience of the body of Christ working together. Hands doing the hand stuff, noses doing the nose stuff, toes doing the toes stuff--you know.

Selah
-Godseeker

Guess What?

OK, so Heiress already guessed, cheater :)

There will be a new addition in March :) Yep thats right.

That might explain any weird behavior out of me this summer. Anyway, we've already got pictures, and I do have to say, s/he is quite a cutie. Of course I might be biased.

Meanwhile, I had been very disciplined this Spring with bible study and prayer. This summer I've let it slip, due to tiredness and nausea and excuses. So, I've got to get back to work, now that I'm running out of excuses, tiredness and nausea have subsided. So Selah Sisters, can you help keep me accountable?

Much Love and Joy,
A.

You Won't Believe This!

Well, things sure happen fast for me, lately. Get this.

Last week, at Parent Orientation for my daughter's Christian School, her teacher mentioned that the music teacher would no longer be doing music. And she put out a request that if anyone would like to help out--

Well, my other daughter is still at home, so of course I dismissed it. Still, I thought it a shame. She loves music and the program has been so strong.

I mentioned it Saturday to a fellow parent, with the "It's a shame" part, and she said, "You know, if you produced the cantata (last year's Easter cantata at church), you could do this." She was talking about the whole SCHOOL'S music program. And she mentioned that preschool was not yet full at the school. Unusual--they usually fill up first.

So, long story short, I called the principal yesterday, got a call today that I have the job, and my younger daughter goes to preschool--financially, it's free, in trade for my help.

Pray for me!! That's two big school programs a year, which have always been top-rated in the past. And a whole school of kids who need vocal coaching.

Today I'm scouring the internet for curriculum.

Pretty neat, huh?

-Godseeker

New Things, Old Issues

8-17

It's been way too long since I wrote anything down here. A great deal has happened, and I don't even know where to start. As I've done before, I'm making this a two-parter. First, the organic, animal-plant related incident, and second, the human experience.


* * *


Last Sunday. I really struggled through the hymns last week.
There was nothing there to sink my teeth into. Maybe someone else would have been edified by them, but this wasn't my Sunday. And it's not like I hadn't prepared my heart. It just wasn't working for me. On the other hand, the teaching was good--deep, meaty stuff, like the Selah sisters are spoiled on.

Anyway, I did wish for more inspiring music. My heart wanted to soar, to commune with God, and the best I could do was to try to create some pretty harmony.

And so I was ready to empathize with my garden visitor that evening. I was out with the dogs behind the vegetable garden, waiting for them to take care of "things," when a commotion came out of nowhere, seemingly from everywhere at once.

There were suddenly four or five robins in the mulberry tree, screaming and flying from branch to branch. At the same time, my little dog was straining against the rabbit fencing, trying to get into the garden, growling and barking. Meanwhile a fledgling robin was scurrying around the garden, trying to find a way out. He had apparently flown in, and did not know how to get enough lift to clear the top.

First of all, I put the dogs in the house. No sense riling up these angry robins (Why so many?). Next, I went and got a towel. A large, thick towel. The baby was still there, so I quickly dropped the towel onto him. This quieted him down, and the other birds quieted down, too. I reached to gently pick up the little lump, but he escaped and flew to one of the bottom rungs of the fence--behind a tomato plant. There he was, straining his way through the wiring, but getting caught at the shoulders. He tried this over and over, in different spots, making the same mistake again and again. He was straining so hard, I was afraid he would hurt himself.

I finally lunged through the twine tomato cage, breaking a steak, but I got my towel-covered hands around the little fellow. Of course, he made a lot of noise, and immediately the parents, aunts and uncles (or whoever they all were) began to scream and carry on again, but I did what I had to do. I lifted him to the point where he could clear the fence and soar--or whatever equivalent of soaring a fledgling robin is capable of.

As I said, I could empathize with this scared little bird. While I have a little mileage behind me, I didn't seem to have the "lift" I needed to soar past the fencing of unfamiliar music in an unfamiliar service. I tried every way I knew--trying to get through, around, everywhere but over, to get to God. Ironic, isn't it? Worship is supposed to be all about God, and here I was, all focused on the worship minister, the music, the organist, every direction but the right one. All I needed to do was look up, but I did not. Did I look to God? Did I pray for the hands of God to lift me up so I could soar? I wish I had. It would be a neat, triumphant blog, wouldn't it?

The good news is, a baby robin came along and taught me a simple lesson. It's the Hand of God, not my own striving, that even makes me capable of worship. So a little change of focus could make this new church experience much more meaningful.

Life is what Happens when you are busy making other plans

Funny how the time travels at such an accelerated rate in the summer. I realized it has been a while since I posted. I have read a little here and there and kept up with you all. But with vacations and family and committees and fun I just haven't posted.
On the topic of change- I have always viewed change as neither good nor bad, it just is what it is. I view all change as a metamorphosis. A coming into being, whether gradual or rapid all things change. I think the question is when do we notice the change. If I understand my mama bible teacher, each of us are in the process of santification. Where God will prune us and cut back and help us to change. Change to be more like Him. What a great thing!
In reading back over some struggles I have had this summer I know that they are God's ways of saying, "hey heiress, time to grow. Now I know this one may hurt a bit, but hang in there, I know what it'll be like when I'm done." The church I attend is changing. The people are really trying to grow. The thing I have a hard time remembering is everyone is at a different place. So it's hard to meet all of those individual needs. But I think that's where we as Christians stumble. I think how can the church possibly be everything to everyone?? The answer is so simple. All things are possible with God. It's not the church that will be the answer, but God will the do the work through the people if we are wiling and open to him.
I'm not sure if I will be joining my Selah sisters or not this fall. It hurts me to have to say those words. But I have been feeling a pushing to do something for a while. I have tried to ignore it, but I don't think God will let me. Don't count me out yet! But there are 3 or 4 different ideas floating around in my head and tugging on my heart. I keep praying to know clearly the path that uses my spiritual gifts (not entirely sure I know what all of mine are) and that I choose as the Lord would have me. That said I ask for your prayers.
I love each of you.

New Things

I have to repent.

Through those early blogs I seemed to complain so much about all the rain, and how the veggies in the garden couldn't ripen without a little sun. Seems like the rainiest summer I've ever seen.

Well, things have a way of balancing out, and the sun came back, and the veggies ripened. And because of all the RAIN I was so busy complaining about, most gardeners I know have the biggest, best quality vegetables in memory. And tons of them!! I'm harvesting about 50 little red grape tomatoes every day. We can't eat more than 15-20 in a day, so I've given away a lot, and still have pints of 'em bagged up and in the deep freeze. The full-sized tomato plants have produced not only ripe, sweet slicers, but nice, tart Celebrities to salsify, and bland but prolific Jet Stars for stewing. And the beans--bush bean. All the experts, and the seed packets, promise one good crop, then you pull the plant. Well, I didn't. And with all the rain and a little extra TLC, these little plants are into their second crops, and some of the earliest plants are putting out flowers for a third crop!!

So God lets the rains come. And these were good, steady rains, most of them. Not the violent gully-washers that strip the soil and flood the fields, leaving the farmers with nothing. These rains were strong but steady, leaving us all dreary. But with the sun came a bumper crop.


* * *

By now my Selah sisters all know that I have changed churches. This is a move I´ve made for the sake of the spiritual growth of my guy, who I love enough to change churches for. I'm not a natural church-changer. I love change in general, but a church is like a family.

In our town, and given the dynamics of our family, there were a couple of churches we looked at as being viable options. I kind of favored one church, and my guy favored the other. And because I go to such a dynamic Bible study, I gave him the final choice. I figured I could grow at either one, since I have the Bible study and the Selah sisters to teach me. So, he chose the one he favors.

It's a nice church. It's Baptist. I grew up Baptist and never thought I'd go back. The long skirts, the hymns--it had all grown kind of tedious for me when I left. My dad was a Baptist preacher, and a pretty good one, I guess, but I didn't really listen much. I spent a great deal of time daydreaming, fidgeting in itchy clothes, and all the time my stomach would rumble, reminding me of the feast of fried chicken that was my reward for enduring this tedium. To this day it's hard for me to be engaged by preaching. I was oversaturated early on. I go, these days, more for good teaching and good worship music.

So we go to the Baptist church and I wear the long skirts and sing the hymns and listen to the sermon. The Sunday school is nice. The people laugh and enjoy one another, and seem to enjoy being there to learn together. They're friendly, but they're not my people yet.

We trust the kids with their Sunday school teacher, because she's taught them for years in their Bible club. And she teaches a large, immensely popular Christian preschool class at this church's private school. Her class always has a waiting list. And kids love her with that kind of early childhood adoration that they´ll always remember.

So I think the kids are okay there. I think my guy is okay there. He's already responding to the teaching, to the church community, and I think he's going to be okay, now. And I guess eventually I´ll be okay there too.

Bible Study starts in a few weeks. I am SO-O-O ready. It's a place where I can go and be okay.

A lost tooth

My sweet son lost his 3rd tooth this week.  It was one of the front top two, so now he has been exhibiting a huge toothy grin :)  Babies aside, I think this is one of the cutest milestones young children go through. Whose momma heart doesn't melt with a toothy grin from any child, let alone your own.  I few months ago I thought that I wouldn't see much more of my son's smile.  He had such a rough year at school, that I was starting to wonder if he was just starting to show the melancholy part of his personality.  Fortunately he has recovered as the outgoing, bubbly, clown of a sanguine that I've always known him to be.  And this new smile seems to fit superbly.  Its also a reminder that he is slowly starting to outgrow childish things. While it may be quite a while until he is an adult, or even a teenager, the time is passing.  My first child is growing!

As Christians, I think that God also marks the milestones of our faith. From baptism to heaven, God is watching our accomplishments.  I can just imagine an omniscient grin as we stop stumbling over our words when we pray, as we learn how to dig deeper, and ask harder questions.  As our faith grows and strengthens.  I can also imagine how bittersweet it must be when we pass that childlike stage where he teaches and guides you and pass into the "grown-up" role of being an instrument utilized by Him to reach others.  Godseeker, I'm praying that as you increase your influence, and increase your ability for your mission (really I see so much potential now), and I pray that your dh will be by your side the whole time.  Jomama,   I thought about you as I was stocking up on binders and paper last night ;) 

Love, Hugs and Selah,
A.

Hug From a President

I received this as a forward.   Thought you all might like to see it.

It started out as a fluke. Lynn Faulkner had been
> offered an extra ticket to a Bush campaign event by
> his neighbor Linda Prince. Mr. Faulkner decided to
> offer it to his 15-year old daughter Ashley who he
> expected would decline, as she would have to miss
> some school to attend. But his daughter surprised
> him. Ashley reminded her dad how four years ago
> they attended a similar event when then Texas
> Governor George W. Bush visited the same spot on the
> campaign trail.
>
> Ashley remembered attending that event with both her
> father and her mother Wendy Faulkner. It was
> raining that day and they all stood in the rain
> awaiting Governor Bush "eating Triscuit crackers"
> enjoying the time together and hoping to get a
> glimpse of the would-be president. Ashley recalled
> holding her mothers hand as they waited. So she
> decided to go again this year, but this time her
> mother could not attend. Wendy Faulkner was
> murdered on 9/11/01 in the south tower of the World
> Trade Center. She was there on the 104th floor for
> a one-day meeting. Ashley decided to miss school in
> honor and remembrance of her mother and attend the
> event.
>
> So the trip was on. Linda Prince, along with Lynn
> and Ashley Faulkner, were off to the Golden Lamb Inn
> in Lebanon, Ohio for the event. The group arrived
> early and got a spot close to the front. As the
> event wound down, the president worked the line in
> full campaign mode shaking hands and signing
> autographs. As the president passed the group, Mr.
> Faulkner got an autograph, and the president
> continued on until Linda Prince spoke up, "This girl
> lost her mother on 9/11," Prince told the president.

> Then everything changed.
>
> "The president's entire expression transformed," Mr.
> Faulkner told me on Sunday. "He turned and came
> back against the flow and his eyes locked on
> Ashley's. His face showed a man who was no longer
> the president, he was a father and a husband."
> President Bush made his way back to Ashley and he
> embraced the 15-yeal old young woman. "She snuggled
> in with the president just like she did when she was
> a little girl with her dad," Mr. Faulkner said. "I
> know it's hard," Mr. Faulkner heard the president
> tell his daughter. "I'm okay," Ashley told the
> president. The embrace continued.
>
> Mr. Faulkner had his Kodak digital camera with him
> and debated on invading this very private moment
> between his daughter and the leader of the free
> world. "For 20-30 seconds the president belonged
> exclusively to Ashley," Lynn Faulkner told me. So
> he decided to capture the moment without invading
> Ashley and the president's privacy. He held up his
> digital camera, not even aiming with his eye and
> with one click snapped just one picture. It showed
> in detail the face of a compassionate man who just
> happens to be the president comforting a young woman
> who lost her mother in the 9/11 attacks on America.
>
> Mr. Faulkner told me that he saw tears in his
> daughter's eyes, and saw emotion that he hadn't seen
> from his daughter in 2 ½ years. Ashley told her
> dad, "The way he was holding me, with my head
> against his chest, it felt like he was trying to
> protect me, he wanted to make sure that I was safe."
> That feeling is captured in a very clear way in
> this moving unscripted photo. It's the only photo
> of this special embrace as the press corps had
> already been ushered back on the bus. And the photo
> was never meant for publication. All Mr. Faulkner
> did when he returned home from the event was e-mail
> it to 15 friends and family. But by the middle of
> last week, I had received the photo from eight
> different people. Others were also receiving the
> photo and forwarding it along. It became an
> Internet phenomenon, as it was e-mailed around
> America.
>
> Mr. Faulkner called the embrace "President Bush's
> precious gift to my daughter." And with his small
> act of e-mailing that photo to friends and family,
> the picture can now become a gift to the American
> people.
>
> And as sad as the story is the release and
> publication is a good thing. Disgusting photos
> coming out of Iraq for the past 10 days have shocked
> Americans, as they should have. But no longer are
> the terrible images of 9/11 shown. While the Iraq
> prison photos have been picked up by the elite media
> and shown time and again, this touching photo has
> gone largely ignored by the mainstream media. But
> the alternative media has made this touching
> powerful photo one of the most e-mailed photos of
> last week. The Internet once again took over where
> the elite media failed. Matt Drudge ran it on May
> 7th, as did the Page 2 Politics journal, and
> hundreds of other blogs. Millions have now seen it,
> but millions more need to. It gives a stark
> reminder why America is at war with radical Islam
> and other terrorists around the world that are
> determined to cause this kind of pain to other
> American families.
>
> The images of 9/11 have faded in the minds of far
> too many Americans. This picture and this family's
> riveting story give a stark reminder of why America
> is at war. Each day around the globe our soldiers
> are fighting in an attempt to prevent any other
> event as terrible as the murders that took place on
> 9/11. Look hard at this picture. See the
> compassion and sadness on the president's face.
> Look at this young woman, see her grief and listen
> to her father's words. Ashley and her sister Loren
> just spent their third Mother's Day without their
> mother, as did thousands of other children who lost
> their mothers on 9/11 at the hands of ruthless
> uncaring terrorists. Imagine yourself in that
> position.
> 

 

Another Death and a Tribute

I'm not quite ready to talk about my new decision.  That will come in the next day or so.  In the meantime, Heiress' blog brought up some thoughts I've struggled with since the loss of a friend this spring.  A college friend.  As a sort of catharsis, I wrote a tribute for her.  At the time, A. and I had been talking about the importance of writing down your testimony and being proud of it (Jomama, I believe, gave us the Hebrew word for such a thing, but it slips my mind).
 
Anyhoo, here's the tribute I wrote.  It raises tough issues on the fairness (or unfairness) of life, and has given me a whole bunch of stuff to grapple with.  Maybe one or all of you have some comments that could help with  wisdom and perspective.
 
 
 

Thea's Story 

 

 

I've been mulling over the thought that we should  write down our testimony and be proud of it.  A friend suggested it.  I think it's  a wonderful idea and I'm going to do it.  In the meantime, I'm pretty sure Thea's story isn't written down anywhere, as she was notoriously self-deprecating.  She wouldn't be proud of her story, or anything about herself, but I'm pretty sure she was proud of the part God had in her life.  So I'm writing as much of her story as I know, which isn't much. We walked side by side for a time, and both moved on.  That's the way it is with college friends.  Some you stay in touch with.  Some you don't.  Some you forget, and some you remember quite well.  Some feel like friends, even after you lose touch, and some just feel like memories.

 

Thea always felt like a friend.  As if, had I ever seen her again, we would have taken up where we left off, talking about things, about God, and laughing.  A lot.  Thea loved to joke about things.  She wasn't pretty, which probably contributed to her self-image problems.  She would joke about herself, about her looks, in such a way that you couldn't help but laugh.  She wanted you to laugh.  The hurt would have been if you didn't laugh.   But there was something about the way her friends laughed.  You laughed and cared at the same time.  And I think that's why she joked so much about herself.  She didn't so much want to hear you laugh. She wanted to hear you care. 

 

Thea, I guess, had an exceptionally rotten childhood.  Not that she talked about it. She didn't have to.  You just knew.  Last week when my friend called, she alluded to the fact that Thea had finally revealed some things to her, and it was no surprise to me.   Thea never married, although she had been proposed to at some point.  She  said no and broke a man's heart.  I don't think she would have been capable of receiving love from a husband.  Her "emotional ears" just didn't work that way.   

 

At Bible college, we were required to work in some area of Christian  service.  My favorite was choir.  I would have stayed in choir the whole time, but you could only get "Christian Service credit" one semester, then you had to do something else.  So I moved on to nursing home, which I loved, and did various other things.  The one service I hated, but got roped into, was "street ministry."  We were supposed to go out there and talk to the teens who congregated and bought drugs downtown.  Can you imagine?   I remember complaining to Thea about it one time.  My contention was that people just don't come to Christ because one person meets them on the street and presents Him.  You have to establish a relationship.  I made it sound really good, and I thought I was being spiritual and caring.  My real problem, though, was fear.  It smacked of salesmanship, which was the last thing I wanted to do with God or anything else.  My presentation, I thought, made good sense, and I was so self-absorbed that it took a moment notice the hurt, slightly angry look on Thea's face.

 

 "I did."

 

 "You did what?" I asked.  

 

 "I came to Christ the first time  somebody told me--on the street."  She told me she had been on the street, and somebody told her, and that was all she needed to hear.  She told me she KNEW she needed God.  She didn't need to  be told twice.  Thea eagerly fulfilled her Christian service credit in street ministry, and then after she had to move on to something else, she would still go do street ministry.  Even after she graduated from college, she would be out there on Friday nights, a Bible under one arm, telling teens and roughnecks about God.  I don't know if she ever led anybody to Him that way.  Maybe she did.  But she sure was giving back to God for what He did for her.

 

 Thea always had close friends.  She attracted people with her sense of humor, and kept them--somehow.  Her friends were always intensely loyal.  I've heard somewhere that you can always tell the quality of a person by the people who love them.  Well, Thea was intensely loved, and always seemed a bit confused by it.  Those "emotional ears" again.  

 

There's a story in the book of Mark about a man who was  deaf and had a speech impediment.  Someone brought this man to Jesus, and there's a story there which is really neat, and easy to miss.  The story reeks of Jesus' compassion, but you have to read it with your imagination wide open.  He had a crowd with Him, but He took this man aside, away from the crowd.  This was a miracle, but perhaps not a sign.  This one was not for the crowd.  It was just for the man.  Anyhow, He put His fingers in his ears, then did something--odd.  He spat, and touched the man's tongue.  But it's what He said that always gets to me.  He sighed (why?) and He said, "Ephphatha."  It's an Aramaic word.  It means "Be opened."  And his ears were opened.   

 

The story always stikes me.  Why did they include the Aramaic word?  They never did that anywhere else.  Was it because that's an important word, and I need to have my attention flagged to it?  Sometimes, people have a spiritual "speech impediment."  You know--maybe they say the wrong thing, maybe they're caustic, maybe they're contentious, or whatever.  But God gets to the heart of the matter.  It's about what they're not able to hear.  "God loves you."  "God has a> purpose for you."  "Your life matters."  Some people cannot hear that.  Perhaps they need their own miracle, away from the crowd, away from the limelight.  They need God to touch their spiritual ears, say "Be opened."  Maybe they're stuffed so full of the earwax from their horrible childhoods or bad experiences that they couldn't hear a thing if God stood next to them and yelled His love to them. Maybe we all need to have God sigh and say, "Ephphatha."  "Be opened." 

 

As far as I know, Thea never received that miracle.  She never understood the fact that people cared about her, in spite of the fact that she always had loyal friends around her.  So it's only natural that she did not stay in touch with her old friends.  She would have been surprised to find that anyone wanted to be in contact.  Friends would find her, and lose her again, as she would move somewhere else.  

 

Thea had a walking stick and a little 110 camera, with which she would take the most amazing photographs.  Her work could have won awards, and she took her pictures with that 110 camera that most serious photographers would never have used.  One day a few years ago she was out hiking and got herself injured and stranded in a remote location.  I don't have more details than that.  I just know her injuries immobilized her.  When she was rescued, she had extreme frostbite.  Between her frostbite and her injuries, she was disabled and unable to work.  She was indigent in her last few years.  Her friends were helpless to help her.  My friend expressed to me that she would have had her come live with her, but she had kids and Thea couldn't stand even a minimal noise level.   At least she was unable to move to another location.   You could keep in touch with her.   Then she disconnected her phone.  You couldn't even email her anymore. 

 

Then last week I learned she had died in November.  None of us even knew until last week, graduation week at my old college.  She died alone, and was found a couple of days later.    I'm still stunned by the way she died and the last few years of misery.   But from what I hear, she found solace in the Lord, although she said she was mystified by the fact that He kept her around when she couldn't do a thing for Him.   I like to think about Thea running around heaven with her sparkling clean ears, following Jesus around, listening to everything He has to say.   Really listening. 

 

  (The story of Ephphatha is from Mark 7:31-35.)

Three deaths and a baby

I've been thinking a lot about life and death lately. Nothing morbid, just comes with what has been going on. Several things. First as my Selah sisters know we have a cat that I have had for 10 years. Now this cat has gotten to be not so nice. In fact he started to bite and has taken to relieving himself on my children's toys. Well, I have combated this for 7 years. Yes 7, I checked with the vet. Long story short, I obviously love the cat or would not have put up with it this long. It was a pretty good cat. Plus I am one of those people that beliefs pet as a cute kitten, pet for life. My kids also love the cat. Even though the cat wants nothing to do with the kids. Well, the other day the vet called and my husband and I had to decide to put the cat down. This is not an easy decision. I really turmoiled with the guilt, fairness, and all aspects of the issue. It was best, overall, for the family and the cat that his life end.
And so that night we had the championship little league game. We waited and said nothing to the children. It was a tight game. I found my self screaming and cheering more than I ever have. Praying for a win. Hoping that would make the news a little less painful. We lost. I got home with my oldest son and was waiting for my husband and youngest boy to break the news as a family. Then he did it. My oldest son went running through the house calling, "kitty kitty kitty". I about lost it. "Mom, where is the cat?" came the question. "At the vet" was all I could muster. His body was, in fact, at the vet. "When's he coming home?" Well, how do I answer that? "Uhm...err...ya see...hey sorry about the game...I mean...well your dad..." Ok even to a 7 year old  I sounded like an idiot. "When is he coming home, mom?" More direct this time. I had it at this point I had to tell him. "He's not." was all I could say. Then I lost it.
We both cried. My husband got home, we told our littlest one. We all cried. My 3 year old looked up and said "kitty died for our sins." Which gave us all a chuckle. And we followed up explaining no Jesus died for our sins.  My older son had a memorial service the next day. I was very impressed with how he handled it. We had family over and he played a Michael W. Smith song I think it's "Friends Forever" and he prayed.
A few weeks have passed now. I still miss the cat. The oldest one still cries every now and then. The little one wants a dog. And I keep thinking about how we mourn with hope. That we know we will see our loved ones again. The oldest wanted to know if there are cats in heaven. I told him I don't see why not. The bible talks about other animals. So there could be cats.
 
We were getting ready to go visit some family in St. Louis the other day. My kids were very excited to see their second cousins. Then we got a phone call that my husbands aunt died. Plans changed. This was the grandma of those cousins my kids were going to visit. Our hearts broke a little that day. She died unexpectedly in her sleep. She ws a wonderful woman and role model. I really enjoyed her company. I can't help but feel a little joy for her. I know (as did she) that she is now with Jesus. I know she is hearing those words, "well done my good and faithful servant." I know the plan is Gods and not my own. He knows why she had to go now. And I also know I will see her on the day Jesus comes in on the clouds.
 
My oldest son has a school friend, J. that had a grandma die this week as well. He asked to send her a get well card. (The friend not the grandma) and so we did. I think loosing his cat has made him think about how his friend must feel. He picked a card with a verse from proverbs, "A friend loves at all times". In it he wrote "J. you're grandma died. I hope you feel better soon." When we sent a plant to the funeral home we requested that J. receive it after services. This was my son's idea. He wanted her to have something to care for and remind her of her grandma. Just like we have a little cat memorial area in our sun room now. Funny how kids adapt and learn very quickly.
 
Lastly, one of our Selah sisters had a baby. A beautiful girl. What a thing of God both life and death. He decides when and where we come into this world. He stays with us through it all and He is there to great us when our work here is done.
 

Decision Time

Okay, as per my earlier post on choices, I suddenly find myself facing a big decision.  Unfortunately, I can't go into details right now.  I sure could use prayers from all of you!!  For WISDOM.
 
Thanks,
 
-Godseeker

Thoughts on tomatoes and the spirit

Tomatoes are the longest of all fruits to ripen, I've determined. My mystery plant, which has stated that he is definitely a pumpkin, already has pumkins turning orange. The cucumbers are burning out, much to my appreciation, I mean really how many pickles does a family need? The peas and lettuces are long gone, the peppers have already given us quite the harvest. Even the sweet corn is ready.

I go out to look in upon my tomatoes nearly every day, if not three times a day. I finally have 1, that's right one, tomato that is slowly making the dramatic change. First she was swirled with pink, almost the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Then slowly orange took over, and that orange just keeps deepening, and hopefully next time I go out to check she'll be bright red,and then we can break out the blt fixins! The rest of the tomatoes must be under the impression that fashionably late is the way to go. The are at the most getting the pale green/chartreuse color that comes before the blush.

Do you think God awaits for us as Christians to ripen? Does he look in on us everyday, or more often, just to see if its happening yet? Does he examine our hearts thoroughly to see if there is any hint of the lightening of the green or perhaps, Joy of all Joys the blush? Does he take pictures,and call the angels over to have a peek? Does get all proud and anticipate our impending ripeness? Does he make plans for our ministries once we reach that maturity. Is it with great joy that he dances out to the garden on the day that its time for the harvest? Singing a new song designed specially for his bounty? And imagine the immense joy following the harvest of the first very precious fruits, that He can come out with a pail and reap the abundant harvest when the fashionable late finally turn?

Selah,
A.

Praise Him!

I drove for 4 hours with my two small children out of town and I loved it. My kids have a TV and were thus pretty zoned out. (So no, this was not an educational moment for my kids) I had the cd player and some worship cd’s and just spent 3 hours singing praises. I am not a singer. In fact most people would probably prefer NOT to hear me sing. But to sit in my own car and belt out with all my heart love to Jesus and the Father and the Holy Spirit was cool. The trip went by in a blink. I found myself pulling into my destination and reluctantly turning off the music. There was something very moving about an extended one on one time thanking and worshipping. And to think there will come a day when all we do is worship Him. I can’t wait!

The goat 

A Goat and a Dream

It's amazing how you can go from nothing to say to not knowing which of several things you want to narrate.

Okay, I'll start with the bizarre.

First, you have to understand that we live in a basic, suburban-type neighborhood. Although the neighborhood is surrounded by a small strip of woods, it's mostly just houses and yards. So yesterday when my 4-year-old daughter, who was looking out of the front window, mentioned a deer, she got my attention. I looked out, expecting to see a big dog. It was big all right, but it wasn't a dog. It was a large nanny goat, looking to be in need of milking. She was headed for my open garage. And behind her cruised three police cars.

Well, this was better than O'Reilly on TV, so there we were--a family of four, hanging our heads out the windows, watching the show. The first thing I noticed was that the police didn't seem quite equipped to handle the situation. Just a bunch of officers glancing nervously at one another as they walked gingerly toward the goat. I don't know what they thought they would do if they caught her. The goat moved on pretty quickly, but the police force set up headquarters in front of our house and headed out after her, so I knew the show would be back. Eventually an animal control truck turned up, and those people seemed a bit better prepared, with a couple of those poles with loops on them--you know what I mean.

The show went on for a while. It was never really resolved. Everybody just sort of came back here, got in their cars and went back to their respective headquarters. Last night my husband was kind of scared to go running.

* * *



I've been reading Deuteronomy lately. In fact, I just finished it up. The last few chapters relate how Moses, who knew he was going to die, pulled together the nation of Israel and gave them his last message from God. The basic message was this: choose. They could choose God, and choose to live--to live well, live abundantly, and there were specific things God would bless if they chose Him. But they could choose to not choose God. That would be to choose to die, and they would spiritually die, and many of them would die physically, because God's special favor would be lifted from them, and they would be exposed for the weak humans they really were without God's help.

So I've let that sift around inside me for a couple of days, and this morning I had one of those "God speaking to me" kind of experiences. What I'm about to tell you--it's absolutely true. But I can't prove it, since I'm the only one who experienced it. So you'll have to choose whether you want to believe it or not.

I dreamed that I was getting ready to do some sodbusting in my backyard, creating some more garden. But then I noticed that there were some wild onions growing among the grass. Now, where I grew up in the south, wild onions came up everywhere, the bane of homeowners trying to keep attractive yards. But when I saw it, I thought how cool it would be if I just let the onions grow up. Who knew--maybe you could even eat them. I'd have to find out. And even if you couldn't, I would still have something nostalgic to remind me of when I was growing up. So I was getting ready to choose not to cultivate a productive garden. I was going to let these weeds grow here, just to remind me of the "old country."

Then I woke up, one minute before the radio alarm was set to go. And I must not have been quite awake, because I remember thinking, "Oh, they're going to play, 'Choose Life (a Christian song based on that passage in Deuteronomy.)'" In my twilight dream state, it didn't seem strange that I would know what was going to come on. Then the music started, and it was "Choose Life." How weird is that?

I don't know what choices or decisions are coming my way, but I'm kind of excited and kind of scared.

I know this was God speaking to me about something, but I wanted to pass it on, just in case anyone else needs a reminder.

"I call Heaven and Earth to witness against you today: I place before you Life and Death, Blessing and Curse. Choose life so that you and your children will live. And love GOD, your God, listening obediently to him, firmly embracing him. Oh yes, he is life itself, a long life settled on the soil that GOD, your God, promised to give your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." (Deuteronomy 30:19, 20, The Message)

Judging a book by its cover

I think we are all guilty of doing what we ought not do. Librarians and teachers probably enjoy this line, "don't judge a book by its cover". I am especially guilty of this, I always look for a pretty cover with good art on it or an old one with fraying edges and a simple design impressed into its hard cover. At a book sale recently I was going through the childrens books. There was a certain book there with a lot of copies, I ended up picking the hard bound one with the dust jacket still intact and a cute picture of a raccoon on it, Godseeker :) I've been meaning to write this blog for almost 2 weeks now, I'm glad I waited because God has added a few things to this.

So a couple of weeks ago, at the library the kids were doing an art project for the summer reading program. Once they got started I headed upstairs to walk through the "Mom books." The books are divided out into sections, fiction, biographies, Sci Fi, non-fiction, and classic literature. As I was wondering through the sections and checking out the covers, I noticed that each section has its unique personality because of the types of covers that are chosen to represent the books. For example, the biographies seem boastful because all the pictures of the important people whose lives were incased inside these volumes. The fiction had a daydreamy feel, and so on.

I had trouble finding the classic lit section because of recent book shifting and the fact that this library is older and architecturally rich, which unfortunately leads to darker corners. When I finally found it. This overwhelming feeling of wisdom and experience oozed from the old fraying covers. Like a long chat with a good friend, or after a night of Selah study. This is where I first noticed each section having its personality. Elizabeth George says about reading books in her book Life Management for Busy Women "The greatest writers and theologians and teachers in the world are sharing the fruits of their decades of study. They are distilling their knowledge down ... to people like you and me." She goes on to encourage us all to seek out the wisdom in the books out there.

The lamp of the LORD searches the spirit of a man; it searches out his inmost being. Proverbs 20:27 I imagine God as an older sage like man sitting in a comfy armchair, with a lamp shinign over his shoulder. He has an open book on his lap. The pages are tattered from much use and bookmarked and postit noted, very much like I see the bibles that people have been carrying for a long time. When I step closer in I see my name, A., as the title of this volume, and I see on his shelves, many other volumes, with Godseeker, Jomama, and heiress among others on their covers. You see as we are seeking Him out through His Book, He is seeking us out too.

Our church had a float in a parade recently. We decided to hand out pocket size Gospels of Mark. These small books had the neatest covers on them. I wasn't sure how they would be received, but people were taking them happily, and we even had some people ask for them! I pray that as these people are reading the Word of God, God will be seeking out them, and creating additional opportunities for people surrounding them to be a witness.

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Update on the mystery squash. Its setting fruit on, and it is appearing to be a pie pumpkin! I hope everyone likes pumpkin pie, because there is going to be a lot of it this fall from the looks of things :) My tomatoes are still green, but there are a lot of those too. I'm going to have to buy more jars soon for my canning.

Raccoon Update

A few nights ago I was giving my dogs one last late-night trip outdoors. We checked out the mailbox, where the third generation of petunias was newly planted and in full bloom. And there they were--two petunia stumps with fresh bite marks! And there, hopping away across the empty lot next door--two rabbits! One stopped to look at us, and it really only took a little bit of imagination to hear a chuckle....

So my apologies to the raccoon. I don't know what he's doing in my backyard (besides visiting the back deck and leaving souvenirs), but I have new villains the petunia saga. So I'm not planting any more petunias out there. Maybe after the rabbits have finished them off, I'll replace them with marigolds.
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A few of my tomatoes are blushing. Just a day or two....
Yesterday when I woke up I just couldn't resist a peek at them. So I headed out the back sliding glass door, which is just ten feet or so from the garden. And there he was--a rabbit, nibbling on the wildflowers I planted behind the tomatoes! I chased him off and assessed the damage. The wildflowers I can live without. But it was the fresh smell of butterhead lettuce that concerned me. A closer inspection told me that one was gone. And the other three had lost their outer leaves.

So I headed out to the local discount store for rabbit fencing. By 11:30 am I had cooled down some, stakes were sawed down and pounded in, and rabbit fencing was mounted. I stepped back and surveyed my kingdom.

Well, it's not so pretty anymore. I planted my garden for looks as much as for food. A little pebblestone path winds around the bean section, with lettuce and (at one time) spinach dotting the borders. The idea was to be able to wander outdoors at will, pick a few beans for supper, and maybe sit and rest in the shade with a glass of lemonade or a morning cup of coffee.

So now I've sacrificed some of the aesthetic value. It's a utilitarian garden. But on the other hand, if the whole idea of the garden was to have a place to de-stress (I have young kids, after all), I'm certainly not gaining any peace from watching my lettuce and baby bean leaves slowly disappear.

If the bunnies are hungry--well, the crabgrass around here is free.

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We're facing some hard choices right now for democracy in America. Do we keep our freedoms at the expense of terror strikes? Or do we restrict our freedoms and make ourselves safe? I don't know where I stand anymore. I would have thought I stood for freedom at all cost. But as we can see from my real, practical, hands-on life, I chose to close the borders of my garden, restricting my own free access (I just don't have the skills to make a gate--I have to step over the fence to get in). I believe our little choices tell us a lot about our larger ideals. So I guess it's a good thing the running of this country is not up to me.

However, I believe every time you're faced with impossible choices like we have now, there's always a hidden third choice. What about--GOD? There's a popular praise song people were singing ten years ago. "God will make a way where there seems to be no way." (Don Moen, ©1990, Integrity's Hosanna! Music.) I also believe God has things he would do if somebody would ask him. That's called prayer. And if God doesn't intervene for our country, and I didn't pray about it, am I partly responsible? Just because I didn't pray? I don't know, but I'd prefer not to take any chances. So I find myself praying for our country more these days.

Dreams

6-28

Does God speak to us through dreams? Heiress asked the question last week, and A. addressed it. I'd like to talk about it, too.

First of all, I believe God speaks to us primarily through the Bible. Hebrews 1:1,2 says that "In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, (2) but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son..." So you're not going to find new doctrine coming to you in dreams, visions, or direct messages from God. When people believe God has given them a new kind of "theology" thing which can't be found in the Bible, if they last at all they usually end up breaking off from Christianity and becoming a different religion.

That being said, I've seen tons of examples of people in the Bible hearing very specific messages from God about what they were supposed to do with their lives. Abraham, for example, Noah and Jonah, all heard God telling them to do specific things or go to specific places. I definitely believe God can do that to people today. After all, if Jonah were living today, there's nothing in the Bible (outside the book of Jonah) that would tell him to go to Nineveh.

My dad grew up in an era when it was really very common for people to believe God had a specific call on their lives. The remnants of the Great Awakening of the 1800's were still at work, and still are. It was very common for a person to "tarry" (wait) at an altar of prayer, until you received your "breakthrough," and knew in your heart of hearts what it was that God wanted you to do.

My dad experienced this for himself. He had a very strong "visitation"-type of experience, when he was at Bible college. He was studying to become a pastor. He says he was walking home from church one Sunday, and the Holy Spirit came alongside him and told him to go into teaching to work with children. Not out loud, mind you, but he said he could feel a "Presence" walking alongside him. The only thing is, he was in college on the GI bill after WWII. You weren't allowed to change majors. When he tried to change majors, his dean told him he couldn't do it and keep his GI bill. He said he'd rather do what God said than what the GI bill said, and he would work his way through if he had to. A few days later he was walking by the dean's office, and was called in, and informed that he was the first GI in the history of the GI bill to be allowed to change majors. :-) He did, too! He taught history and Bible at Christian school for years. When he eventually did become a pastor, he was a chaplain for kids. So there's an example of God speaking to him, followed by a verifiable sign so that he could know it was not just his imagination, and after he stepped out to do it, it happened in his life.

Back to dreams. Why not? IF God wants to get a message to us, this is a means He's used before. God spoke in dreams to people in the Bible. To Joseph, Mary's husband, for instance. He even used that method to get his message to an ungodly Pharaoh in Egypt. And to Nebuchadnezzar.

I think we all have "touch points" in our lives. Something God can touch, just for us, to let us know He's here, and He knows we're here. For Heiress, I think I heard a "touchpoint" in your Cherokee tradition. He knew the cardinal would mean something to you. : ) For me, it's music. My dreams are usually full of background music. I don't think it's always something God is specifically doing, but I hear music through my dreams. When I was a kid, my room was next to the bathroom, and my dad always had a radio in there playing loud music while he shaved. I always seemed to be in REM sleep at that time, dreaming away, and that music would blare away in the background. So ever since, I've always had that music playing in the background while I dream. Well--I've learned from experience that if I happen to think about the last song I heard in my dream, it will always carry a message for me. Usually it's about exactly what I've been going through, or it may hold an answer to something I was asking God about. But I don't usually remember the last song. I think God just prompts me when I'm supposed to notice.

With all that being said, do I think God was talking to me in my dream about my campfire? Really, I don't think so. I think it was my subconscious, which knew I had been healed before I knew it myself. I may be wrong. Maybe God used my subconscious to speak to me. One thing I DO know--the healing itself came from God.

-Godseeker

How to Peel an Orange--A Father's Day Tribute

From as early as I can remember my dad made a ritual of peeling an orange. He would get an orange and a paper towel from the kitchen, sit down at the table and pull out his old, yellowed bone handle knife. He would turn the orange over so that the stem bud was on top, then carefully insert the knife. He slowly drew a pencil straight line all the way around the orange, ending again at the stem bud. Then he turned the orange at a 45 degree angle and began again--starting at the stem bud, always intersecting the first line exactly at the bottom of the orange, and ending again at the stem bud. Thus he had four quarters, and he would carefully peel back each quarter, leaving them on the paper towel.

I was always amazed by the fact that he never punctured the meat of the orange. Never. Every now and then he would remind me that he had learned this technique from his father, who had learned it from HIS father. That made me feel important as I sat there watching him, bare feet swinging under the table, learning a lesson from my forefathers. I know many people probably quarter their oranges when they peel them. But there was something special about how those lines always intersected at the dot on the bottom, and about the way he never pierced the meat.

My father passed away during a cold January night, and we held the funeral in a deep snow. When my mother and sister and I went through his things, I received that old yellow bone handled knife. Through that winter I carried the knife in my coat pocket, and every now and then I would reach in and clasp that knife. The weight of it was comforting somehow.

I still try to master his method of peeling an orange. I have the intersecting lines down right, but I still sometimes puncture the orange meat. But that's the way it is with generations, I guess. I'll try and try, and someday maybe I'll get it right. Then when I'm too old to safely hold a knife, maybe the next generation will be at it, doing their best to peel an orange with perfectly intersected lines, without puncturing the meat.

Boss Update

I was thinking about A.'s post "what a differnce a day makes". Well in my case 5 to 7 days. I think a day at work is an enternity sometimes. I realized how whiney I am being over all of this. Bottom line, I didn't get what I want and I am VERY used to things going my way. In fact if they don't go my way I MAKE them go my way. Or I have a fit. Really I do. I noticed this when watching my beautiful boy #1. He is the same way. This is my type A child. I was reprimanding him for not being more flexible. When it hit me. THIS IS ME! When bb#1 doesn't get things his way he stomps a foot, huffs really loud, tries to persuade, claims life is unfair and storms off. I have been doing the same thing, just not as openly.
Guess what life IS unfair. No one ever said it would be FAIR. In fact I have been told and shown repeatedly just how unfair life is.
BUT I have been show how wonderful it is too. GOD allows me to be here. He gives me THIS day. ANd it's all a matter of perspective. Remember, perception is 90% of the deal. If I go in to my work week feeling sorry for myself, (Yes that's what I was doing and you were all so polite not to say so)then I feed off of that and it spirals down. But if I kick back do a good job and remember this job is just that, a J-O-B not the end all be all. G-O-D is the end all be all. HE is the reason I am here.
We had a staff meeting. We met the boss. She actually spoke to us. It's not going to be fun or fair. But the 2 hour meeting went a lot faster for me when I remembered it's just a job. It's the one God has me in with the people that are there for now. It's a new challenege and adventure. I think it would be a heck of a lot easier to be a Christian and NOT be in the world, but that's not what we were called to do. So I will remain centered on God, the fire should help (see post time to build a fire)

Selah

Maybe you've heard us allude to the term "Selah." What IS it? Some kind of inside thing? Well, not really.

If you check the book of Psalms in the Bible, you'll find psalms (ancient Hebrew songs) with the word "Selah" interspersed here and there between the lyrics. "Lift up your heads, O gates, and lift them up, O ancient doors, That the King of glory may come in! Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory. (Selah.)" (Psalm 24:9,10 NASB)

Most Bible experts believe that "Selah" meant "pause." In other words, "Stop and think." Or a better way to put it, "Stop and savor." Sometimes a Psalm leads us to stop and savor the majesty of God. Sometimes we stop and think about the things he's done. But that was an important part of these ancient songs--the moment when you stop--and savor.

So the ladies of our Bible study have come to think of our weekly time together as a "Selah" to our week. The evening we stop--savor God's word for a while--and go back to our week.

Maybe Jomama, who has taught on the "Selah," would like to comment.

-Godseeker

Time To Build A Fire

My youngest son is now 31/2 going on 4 and he is a reminder of my fire. I think it’s time to build one. No, I’m not crazy or all of a sudden struck with an inability to communicate in any articulate form. I have a story to share and then you will understand.

I was pregnant with this beautiful baby. Not my first, but my second miracle baby. See, I had been told at 19 to have a hysterectomy due to recurring difficulties with endometriosis and ovarian cysts and there was no way I could ever have children. Thanks to God and my mother and some very encouraging Doctors (and my husband) I conceived and successfully delivered baby boy #1.

Then, after three years of frustration, I found myself blessed with the unheard of and unprecedented baby boy #2. I was working with a local parks and recreation department at the time. I was not a Christian, but believed in God in my way but not His way.

My job was stressful, my marriage was going downhill and my attitude stunk. Well, God knew me before I knew him. I am always amazed to look back at my life, at the times God loved me and cared for me even before I acknowledged Him. It shouldn’t surprise me though, the wind blows weather I believe in it or not. The sun will still shine even if I don’t think it should. And God was and is and will be I AM.

So God took me and placed me at a conference. I am a Certified Therapeutic Recreation Specialist and thus have to attend conferences and things to maintain this credential. Another important point to the story is I have a Native American Heritage that is dear to me.

Well, here I was, pregnant, down in the dumps, feeling sorry for myself and hating life. There was a camp fire lit in a clearing throughout the entire conference. An Ojibwa man I did not know tended the fire all day and all evening every day for the 4 days we were there. He explained the fire had been lit from coals from another fire months before. And that fire had been started from the one before it and so on going back to the original fire. It was a ripple effect. There is a group of people spreading Peace by spreading the fire.(I have to hunt down the website because this fire has been spread all over the world-kinda like the WORD)

The fire gave me both warmth and comfort inside and out. At night it gave me peace and safety. But the fire also gave so many things I was not aware of at the time. I was impressed how much care this man gave to the fire. Not worship, by any means. But just as A. and Godseeker tend to their plants, this man tended to his fire. At the end of the conference the fire had to go out. But not the concept. The man took pieces of cloth and twine and wrapped the now cool coals. Each person took one to take home. His instructions to me were to keep the coals for when you know to build the fire.

I have had the coals for almost 4 years. I have thought once or twice about building a fire with them, but it never seemed right. It does now. You see I was at a turning point then as I feel I am now. I had decisions to make that were looming and the Lord gave me the solitude and peace I needed to sort it out. Shortly after that conference I had my baby. I had a new job. I began to attend a church and search for God. I believe the Lord used that fire and the Native American to reach me. This was a person I could relate to and spend time with just sitting, not talking. That is what I did most of the days of that conference.
I keep thinking how the Cherokee believe fire comes from The Creator as a gift. As tradition, you would light the first fire of the season from the coals of the season before. Each fire had coals from the previous one. A weaving of the lives from year to year, a ripple effect.

I believe in the great Creator God. He is the one who created fire and man. He ties us together from year to year, generation to generation. He was the fire in the desert in OT times that led and guided. He is the fire in my life now. Just like the Ojibwa I enjoyed being with so many years ago, I need to tend to my fire. I need to keep it stoked and allow God to burn in my life. I have been wandering in my heart, mind and spirit for a few months now.
I think it’s time to build a fire.

Feeding the Fish

Have you had fish before? If you have, and perhaps even if you haven't you know about feeding fish. Fish food comes in a little round container with a screw on lid. Every few days, or so you remember that you should throw a pinch of fish food in them to keep them swimming. I always thought that this proceedure was the only way to feed fish. I haven't had fish in years but last summer when I set up the fish tank for my darling child, I really wanted to do it right. I checked every kind of chemical level possible to get the water just right, and I even read the label on the fish food. Feed the fish 3 times a day! No wonder I never had amazing luck with fish. You will be glad to know that we have only lost a small percentage of our fish.

This spring we were gifted with a pair of newts. The newts came with food, but the previous owners admitted that it wasn't the right variety. We needed to do some research to find out what they would eat. I learned a lot about newts and incidentally a little about fish too. I hope you aren't eating your breakfast. I found a chart that details the best possible food and the worst possible food for newts. The worst possible food is what came with the newts, which explains why they wouldn't eat it. And fish flakes were also on the chart with a comment about fish not eating them either!? My fish seemed to eat them, right. So they had several things that were better for newts that we could probably find at the store, and the suggestion that the best thing would be to dig for worms in the backyard. Not that I'm against this. But I'd prefer to buy something that would entail less work. So we go and make a couple purchases trying to find what the newts like the best. One bottle of freeze dried compressed worm cubes, and a package of larva preserved in gel. I won't drag this out for ever. But the newts prefer the larva, in fact that is the only thing they will eat. As for the worm cubes, the label also indicated that fish would eat them. So we gave that a try. Sure enough those fish got pretty excited!

Tonight as I was watching the fish enjoy their treat - have they grown since being introduced to it! As Christians do we put ourselves on fish flake diets? Occassionally, giving ourselves a few well mulled over, preprocessed flakes of scripture? Allowing others to direct how we think. Do we go so far as to go about this excersize often? There is a whole Christian merchandise market. If you have a catchy take on scripture you can make a mint off of Christians. 40 days of fish food, anybody? (These things have their place, but when they are as "phenomenal" within the church as they are, is something wrong?)

As I was watching the pretty orange fish gathering around greedly picking out from the cube the choice morsels, I thought of our bible study. Selah ladies are greedy for the choice morsels of scripture. I have learned to really dig and seek Him out in the word. I'm so glad I can be in a gathering of friends and seek the Lord through the scriptures. When I haven't been feed I find that I get hungry.

Ooops, there I go talking about food again :)

The Story of My Rock

In my desk drawer is a small piece of concrete in a drawstring bag. I've kept it for years, and every now and then I pull it out and look at it, feel its roughness, put it back in the bag, draw the string, and return it to the back of the drawer. It's a piece of the Berlin Wall.

I didn't buy it as a souvenir. It was sent to the radio station where I worked at the time of the wall's collapse. Some record company was using it as a promotional gimmick to get us to notice their artist's Wall-related song.

I had watched the news as the wall fell, and had felt so happy for the families who were re-united after so many years, and for the people who would be free now, and were dancing and feeling the joy of it. I remember thinking at the time, "God did this." Like I've said, that's how I think, and I believe it's true. Too many people had prayed for this day. And now it was here.

Then I thought, if God can do this with a concrete wall that represents so much, he can do it with the walls in my little life. And believe me, there were walls. Then the piece of the wall came to us, and nobody knew what to do with it, so I took it.

And sure enough, over the next few years I became less of a loner, and more a part of the community of believers that was around me. I'd pull out that rock often back then, and think, "It's happening!" And I'd feel a little of the joy those East Germans must have felt at the time.


I used to have a recurring dream. Maybe I read too much apocalyptic fiction as a kid. I probably read too much of Tarzan and Robinson Crusoe, but I'd dream that the world was coming to an end, they were going after the Christians, and I would head out into the wilderness to hide and live off the land. But then I would somehow circle back and end up back in civilization. I remember the frustration I'd feel as I woke up. I wanted to be away from everyone! Then one night, maybe a year or two after the concrete rock came to me, I dreamed the dream again. This time I had a good campfire going, the kind that would put out the least amount of smoke, and it happened. People started showing up. They were from my church, completely oblivious to my desire to be alone. They turned up in two's and three's, armed with smiles, marshmallows, hot dogs and chocolate for s'mores, and before I knew it, people were cooking, laughing, sitting around talking and eating s´mores. I was dumbstruck. I looked around, helpless to explain that this was MY camp, MY escape, and nobody had been invited. Then I just laughed and gave up, made s'mores and enjoyed the company. They were my community. My family.

That was the last time I had that dream, and it was years ago. One wall, I guess, came down.

-Godseeker

Its a mystery

Do you know how a lot of times God has things planned in your life that really just broadside you? You never saw it coming, yay, all the signs were there, but you were ignoring them weren't you?

Well its happened. I have a mystery plant in my garden. :) I know that the seed came out of the cucumber package. I placed it there myself. The crowning glory of my whole row of cukes, is an enormous rambling mystery squash vine. Yep, it came up several days earlier then the rest of the cucumbers, and yes it is growing a lot faster. But it really didn't hit until that huge floppy bold orange blossom opened up smiling to the world and announcing loudly that it was different, and liking it. I really should have seen it coming. All the rest of the cucumbers are blooming to with their petite, geometric, yellow stars, punctuating the organic chaos the mystery plant is. Even the leaves are in sharp contrast, big - small, floppy - shapely. The six foot vines reaching out into the onions, the yard the zukes and covering some of the cukes - versus their nice compact tendrils. I keep pulling the vines around back to the rows, though so that the mower won't get them. And while this is so wrong, I marvel at the huge beauty. Even though I buy all my seeds in the package and I think that I'm in control, God knows I planted way to many cukes and need more of something else.

He is always looking out for my best interests. I could very easily rid the garden of my huge squatter, but I'm curious to see what God knows this squash is, I'll loving accept whatever it is, too. But I wonder, sometimes our lives feel like this. We think that we know which seeds we have sown, but sometimes the rambling vines grow into something besides what it clearly states on the package. Do we lovingly accept it, care for it and nurture it anyway? Or do we pout and holler up to God that this isn't what we ordered in our nice neat well thought out prayer? Do we leave room for His work?

And with our own kids. I know that ds comes up with new interests I'm not so fond of. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that ds is all about prehistoric times, archeology, and chemistry. But who knows what the fruits of ds's life will turn, so I try my best to be nurturing and caring. Maybe he will discover something unprecedented, or maybe he will just be a collector of dinosaur models. Whatever God has planned, I want to be there. I want to be the best encourager for him.

Selah
Edited to Add picture
Picture should be here! how did you get yours to be in the post?