spiritual ingenue

A Writing Thaw

2005-12-28T21:26:00.000-02:00

Merry Christmas, one and all!

I know it's been forever, but I feel the writing juices slowly thawing, and hopefully it will prove to be a productive year for Spiritual Ingenue. This blog has been the neglected stepchild of my blog family, so to speak, in that I have been giving all of my attention to another of my offspring. For the last 5 months or so, I have been writing a bible study on Psalms 23, over at Sacred Space For Women. I have loved it, and have had over 40 women participate at one time or another. If you get a moment, pop over to read what God has been laying on my heart.

How was your holiday? Mine was wonderful, stressful, overextended and beautiful, all at the same time. We spent the holiday with my husband’s family in South Carolina, which could have been an experiment in torture had God not been on the scene. It was a season to celebrate miracles, from my father in law’s continued state of healing from his cancer to my sister in law’s ability to get along with her mother. God led the sequence of events down a path I did not anticipate, and it was an overwhelming display of His ability to restore. Quite the birthing season it was, I must say. Here are a few of the highlights:

-My father in law is still healthy and cancer-free after a bout with stage III colon cancer. Mom shared with us that usually, 80% of patients with his kind of cancer are dead by this point. What a gift to listen to him preach on Sunday morning, and to see God’s fingerprints on his life has he shared the Gospel in that sweet and simple way that he has.

-My sister in law left her emotional baggage at home and came to visit with no chip on her shoulder. Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles, she didn’t pick a fight and get her feelings hurt over the way Mom asked her to pass the mashed potatoes. We had a secret code word that I would whisper if I saw her getting worked up: “ice cube”. I didn’t have to use it once!

-My father in law asked me to read the account of Jesus’ birth from Luke during his message on Sunday morning. I got to read it from my mother in law’s bible, which made it extra special. It was hard getting it out, but I managed. Another miracle there for you; I’m usually a huge crybaby when it comes to that stuff.

-My sister and brother in law got to have time away from the Katrina ravaged area they live in. Their lives were completely uprooted by the hurricane, so after moving into a new place, getting their children adjusted to a new school, and trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy, they were ready to get outta Dodge for a while.

-My father in law said he never once thought that the visit needed to end, and asked the three women of the family to solidify plans for next Christmas so we could do it all again. Now that is proof that God does indeed exist- no one was counting the minutes until it was time to leave!

That’s just a taste of what God did over our Christmas visit. I still haven’t shared the amazing story of what happened after we opened our gifts, so I will do that next.

Thanks for reading, and I pray you had a beautiful holiday.

Love,
s.i.

Ashamed To Be A Blogger

2005-11-29T01:44:00.000-02:00

Tap Tap... is this thing on??

I know it's been like 5 year since I've written. Things have been crazy for me, the most recent craziness being that my best friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer. It's been a terrible time filled with the fingerprints of God.

Is anyone out there? Do you all hate me and have me listed on a the "Blog Loser List Of Aught 5"? Because I would totally win the Grand Prize at that.

I miss all of you and hope to connect here soon. I've been suffering from linguistic constipation, but things finally seem to be moving along.

Love,
si

I Am His, And He Is Mine

2005-08-20T00:15:00.000-02:00

This is the first installment of the online bible study I am leading over at Sacred Space For Women. Stop by and join in the discussion. -s.i.

Our study begins in the book of Psalms, a beautiful tapestry of poetry, prayer, and praise. Written by many authors over a period of many years, it is a collective uplifting of honesty and love to a God who delights in hearing it.

Reading through this treasury of wisdom can evoke many different emotions in the reader, and for this reason we are drawn to it again and again throughout our lifetime. We seek its familiarity in good times and bad, and draw comfort and strength from its prose. Often, we enter the verses in one condition and leave in quite another, having had our fill of Living Water to carry us over a few more miles of the journey.

We begin our study in the well-worn 23rd chapter of Psalms. In its simplest form it is comforting, yet as we peel back the layers we find a depth and richness that can easily be missed. For this reason, we will be studying this chapter precept upon precept, in order to spend time soaking into our spirits what the Lord is saying to us as women.

As we rest together beside still waters, may our hearts be fertile ground and our ears be open to what God wants us to hear. He is waiting for us now with new insight and a fresh Word, so be blessed as you spend time in His presence.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
“The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want.” Psalm 23:1-2

IN THE FIRST CHAPTER of Psalm 23, David finds himself weary after battle. He is examining his broken state while declaring, perhaps in a worn and ragged voice, that Jehovah is His Shepherd and he doesn’t need anything else. Whether David finds himself strong or weak, rested or weary, God is an eternally stable and unchanging force of guidance in his life.

In this declaration, there is no question of belief. There is no undercurrent of “I hope He is my Shepherd”, or (as we girls are fond of saying) “I KNOW He’s my Shepherd, but…” Instead, we find a powerful statement of faith and fact that sets the authority of God firmly in its rightful place. Simply put, He is in charge and we are not. Friend, there is much liberty and freedom in that realization!

Not only is He Shepherd, He is your Shepherd. What beauty and sweetness we find in the word “my”. Dwell on this for a moment: The Holy and Living God Of All Time is YOURS. He is your Emmanuel, your God With You!! He dwells in you and around you and through you and over you! You are your Beloved’s and He is yours!

In “The Treasury of David”, 19th century preacher Charles Spurgeon writes:

“(David) does not say, “The LORD is the Shepherd of the world at large, and leadeth forth the multitude as His flock,” but “The LORD is MY Shepherd; if He be a shepherd to no one else, He is a Shepherd to ME; He cares for ME, watches over ME, and preserves ME. The words are in the present tense. Whatever be the believer’s position, he is even now under the pastoral care of JEHOVAH.” (p 399, vol 1)

There is something powerful about belonging to someone or something. As little girls, we try to fit in with others on the playground. As teenagers, our insecurities can drive us to drastic measures so that we feel accepted by our peers. As women, we are pulled in so many directions that half the time we don’t know what we belong to or what belongs to us. Yet all the while, there is a God who wants to dwell in relationship with us, and who is waiting for us to lay our needs in His hands.

It is easy to read, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want” as two separate declarations. Instead, it is important to know that BECAUSE the Lord is your shepherd, you shall not want. When you fully permit Him to guide, direct, and lead you, you will find yourself in a valley of Eden-esque proportions where there is perfect provision and contentment.

More importantly, you will find yourself sensitive to the leading of His Spirit, and there you will experience the fullness of the passionate love He has for you. Living under the umbrella of God's authority is the most beautiful example of “His Kingdom Come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” It can also be the most difficult for us to employ.

As we sojourn together, may you come to a new and transforming knowledge of God as your Shepherd and Perfect Provider. You are not alone, dear one, and there is nothing that you need that God is incapable of giving you. Be blessed this week as you carry forth His Word in your spirit, and know that you are loved and prayed for.

PONDERINGS
1. Is God yours? Are you His?
2. What do you want that you are not allowing God to supply? Do you think He would if you asked Him to?

PRAYER
My God, You are my Shepherd. As a woman, I am called to lead and guide in so many things, yet I forget that the Creator of the Universe tenderly leads me. You are my defender, protector, provider, and sanctuary. Because I dwell in this place, I shall want for nothing. Help me to remember that there is no need I have that You will not supply. May all that I do and all that I am bring You glory and make you proud. In Jesus’ strong Name I pray. Amen and Amen.

School Has Started...

2005-08-18T18:22:00.000-02:00

And I'm doing ok! It was hard sending my daughter to Kindergarten, but now everyone is doing well. We're in the routine and rhythm of fall, and I think that's exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk. I've also been writing like crazy, and wish I could stay home and write write write. Someday...

I HAVE been busy with something the last few weeks, and I'm inviting all of my wonderful female readers to check it out. I am writing an online bible study for women from Psalms 23, and God is doing amazing things! He has grown our community to over 40 women, and it's only just begun. It's incredible to see how God is moving, and we're only two weeks old.

Click on the link below to check it out.

Sacred Space For Women

I pray that it blesses you and ministers to you as you spend time at Sacred Space For Women.

Blessings Friends,

s.i.

2005-08-07T23:52:00.000-02:00

My little girl starts Kindergarten tomorrow. Say a prayer for me, won't you? Say one for her too, while you're at it. And my son, who will be starting 3rd grade.

Thanks.

Trading Darkness For Light

2005-08-03T01:09:00.000-02:00

My brother, the lone male in a clan of 8, has had a rough life. He has endured a lot of heartbreak and sadness, and my heart has always been sad for him. Last year, my sadness turned to worry and brokenness as we realized that he was getting involved in the occult.

He turned to this lifestyle because he was desperate for answers and relief from his emotional pain. A newly divorced father of a toddler and a baby and in need of healing and hope, he found himself under the mentorship of a "spiritual guide" who led him in different spiritual practices that promised enlightenment and peace. Instead of finding relief, he found himself in a downward spiral of darkness he didn't like but couldn't stop. Soon, the pull proved to be too much and he found himself headed towards full on satanism. This is something I'd heard about at youth retreats and on TBN. I never thought it would affect my family.

Needless to say, we were praying like crazy that God would break though the darkness and shed light on my brother's broken heart. We prayed for him and with him, begging God to break him free of this destructive lifestyle. My sister, an incredible warrior for the Lord, confronted him time and again with the reality of his choices, and for a while our words fell on deaf ears. We were sick in our spirits as we watched him fall away.

Soon however, my brother made a choice. He decided to follow God. It was as simple as that- he turned from the dark and chose the Light. Although we had prayed fervently for God to break him free, the final choice ultimately rested in the hands of my brother. How we rejoiced that he abandoned that hopeless lifestyle! How we praised God that our precious brother was no longer a slave to the evil one!! Little did we know what the future held for him- we had not yet begun to praise. :)

Today, my brother is a man of God who loves the Lord and is working hard to bring his children up in a Godly home. He is a single dad who works long hours but spends time with his kids, being faithful to take them to church every week. He is following hard after the things of God, and he is literally a new creation!!

Not only is he new on the inside, he has been transformed on the outside. My brother is now surrounded with light, whereas before he carried a dark countenance that was like a black shroud over his soul. It is awesomely frightening to witness that much of a change in a person, and I wish that Nicodemus was still around because I would drag him to my brother and shout "THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE BORN AGAIN!!" The Kingdom of God is stronger today because of my brother's presence within its ranks, and I am so proud of him. He is a brilliant man, regularly challenging me in my walk and in my faith and although I am older, he has truly become a big brother to me.

He walks in the light today because he chose to do so, and he now passes down a Godly heritage to his children. They will pass it on to their children, and their children, and it will be passed on for a thousand generations should the Lord tarry. Because one man made a choice, only eternity will tell how many lives will be touched with the Gospel of Christ.

Choose to walk in His Light today.

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined." Isaiah 9:2

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

2005-07-31T01:28:00.000-02:00

We had such a fun time last night. My hubby got tickets to a baseball game, so we got to see our local minor league team whup up the competition. The night was good on so many levels, but it was especially so because our kids did so well. At almost 9 and almost 6, they made for pleasant company and were fun to watch. I admit that I spent more time watching them than I did the field.

I especially loved listening to them belt out "Take Me Out To The Ball Game", and to see their faces shine by the light of the fireworks at the end of the game. It was one of those moments you wish you could bottle up and set on your mantle.

Hope you all are having a great weekend.

An Angry God

2005-07-20T15:32:00.000-02:00

Ooooooh.

So I've been wasting a lot of time lately and that's why you haven't seen much of me here.

Wasting time, you ask? It would seem that if one were busy, they wouldn't blog. However, I've been wandering a lot in my mind and have been preoccupied with that, instead of being focused and doing my best to minister here.
But I am here today, and it's only after I got in trouble with God.

I've been stuck in a rut lately, and have sent up countless prayers to God to "help me reconnect." You know the ones; I'm sure you've been in that place where you've wandered off, sniffing after distractions, and suddenly you sense that God's not so close anymore.

Or rather, you're not so close to God.

As I said, I've been praying for intimacy, praying for proximity, even praying to be in the same zip code again. Yesterday, He answered me.

God: "GO TO YOUR BIBLE."
Me (surprised to hear from him and little startled): "Um... Lord... I'm trying to do laundry. Can it wait?"
God: "NO. LET IT GO RIGHT NOW. YOU DON'T MIND LETTING IT GO MOST OF THE TIME ANYWAY."
Me (sensing an urgency that commanded to be obeyed): "Ok."

I find my Bible and open it, oddly enough, to the book of Ezekiel. I'm not very astute where this book is concerned because it's kind of scary to me and frankly, I don't spend much time there.

God directs my eyes to the 36th chapter, 22nd verse. I will bold the text where God seemed to be shouting:

22"Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord GOD: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came.

("profaned" means to pollute or to treat as common.)

23And I will vindicate the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, and which you have profaned among them. And the nations will know that I am the LORD, declares the Lord GOD, when through you I vindicate my holiness before their eyes.

24 I will take you from the nations and gather you from all the countries and bring you into your own land. 25 I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. 26And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. 27And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.

28You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God. 29And I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses. And I will summon the grain and make it abundant and lay no famine upon you. 30I will make the fruit of the tree and the increase of the field abundant, that you may never again suffer the disgrace of famine among the nations.

33"Thus says the Lord GOD: On the day that I cleanse you from all your iniquities, I will cause the cities to be inhabited, and the waste places shall be rebuilt. 34And the land that was desolate shall be tilled, instead of being the desolation that it was in the sight of all who passed by. 35And they will say, 'This land that was desolate has become like the Garden of Eden, and the waste and desolate and ruined cities are now fortified and inhabited.'

36Then the nations that are left all around you shall know that I am the LORD; I have rebuilt the ruined places and replanted that which was desolate. I am the LORD; I have spoken, and I will do it. 37"Thus says the Lord GOD: This also I will let the house of Israel ask me to do for them: to increase their people like a flock. 38Like the flock for sacrifices, like the flock at Jerusalem during her appointed feasts, so shall the waste cities be filled with flocks of people. Then they will know that I am the LORD."

Now I know this may sound really strange and may make no sense to anyone but me, but I so clearly felt God speaking to me regarding where I am now, where we are going, and what is currently going on inside of me.

For months, I've felt like I've been wasting time. The people that God has placed in my life need to be ministered unto, and I have been puttering around, focusing on all the wrong things, laying up treasure in areas that aren't eternal. The people around me represent the nations He's called me to carry the Gospel to, and I haven’t' been faithful to my Commission.

God has stuff to do through me that isn't about me at all, but about displaying and defending the holiness of His great Name in the eyes of those around me through my witness and life. I know God is getting ready to plant us in a new land with this move coming up, and I know that God is already raising up the flock we will minister to. I feel like the abundance God is going to pour out upon us is the blessing of His presence, where we will feast on Him and never again know the famine created by His absence.

I want our new neighbors to look upon our spirits and say, "The home and heart of this family is like the Garden of Eden, growing lush and beautiful because of the presence of Living Water. We want that."

Right now, I feel like I have built an alter to the god of Wasting Time, and I want it demolished. I want to be sprinkled with clean water so that I move into a new and deeper level of intimacy with Him. God, you have called us to plant this church, and I want You to prepare the way in our hearts and minds to do this work you have prepared for us to do.

As a side note, I found a new facet of God’s character as I was reading . He was very clearly angry as He directed my eyes to His Word, but He wasn’t angry AT me. I felt He was angry FOR me. He is angry at the way my behavior as keeping me from intimacy with Him, and how He has SO much MORE for our relationship than what I am willing to tap into. I sensed His frustration with me, the way I get frustrated with my kids when I try to direct their path to a choice that will bless them and bring them joy, and instead they choose another road.

I love my children too much to see them make dumb choices! I love them too much to let them take a path that is less than God’s very best! That’s what a sensed as I read this passage: the angry and jealous love of a God who has more for me than I’m choosing. Of course, I say that I won’t let my children make these choices, but that free will thing gets in the way and I know the decision is ultimately theirs to make. How frustrating that must be for God.

Father, I humbly thank You for the reminder that this call on my life is not about me at all, but all about You and the propagation of Your Name. Thank You for Your infinite patience and grace, as You watch me wander right and left, away from Your perfect will. Thank You for forgiving me of the sin of wasting time, and for creating a pure heart of flesh within me and renewing my steadfast spirit.

I pray for the people you are raising up in our new neighborhood, that our home would be a beacon of light that would shine the presence of Christ into a dark nation.

Amen and Amen.

Seeking The Deeper Things

2005-07-15T01:25:00.000-02:00

"Are you tired of trying to be a good Christian? Are you overloaded and worn out with church activities? Do you sometimes feel like you’re just going through the motions of the Christian life?

Do you often find yourself running on empty spiritually? Do you experience heaviness or shame more than joy and freedom in your Christian life? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then perhaps God is calling you to something deeper. Maybe you’re ready to experience personal revival."

A friend of mine just went through this study and said it was phenomenal. I think this is just the thing I need right now. Another friend has been talking to me about starting a small group of a few women, and I think this would be something for us to consider doing.

I'll let you know how it goes, my friends.

Things I'm Doing

2005-07-10T18:47:00.000-02:00

Beginning to put together a chapter outline for my first book, a bible study that will focus on the 5th chapter of Mark.
Waiting for a plot of land to come available so we can begin construction on our new home.
Trying to listen more to my husband, and to minister to him in all things.
Praying for my brother, a single dad who is working hard and going to school. He is a former satanist who is now a self-proclaimed child of God. He is running after the things of Christ with all of his heart, and it is a great victory for the kingdom that he is now on their side.
Trying to keep duct tape on my daughter's finger so as to clear up a wart that has reared its ugly head.

Side story here. My kids and I were getting ready to pray before bed, and we were talking about my daughter's wart. My 8 year old son, ever the intent listener during Children's Church and always available to offer words of advice, said in a soothing voice, "Sis, I think you might have leprosy, and let me tell you why..." He went on to explain the medical implications of the disease, up to and including loss of appendages. My son ended his diagnosis by revealing the social implications of said disease, but comforted her with the words "Even though you're supposed to go away, I think Mom and Dad might let you stay, at least until you are old enough to get a job."

My daughter, who believes her brother first and asks questions later, looked at me with horrified eyes and on the verge of tears asked "CAN I STILL LIVE WITH YOU WHEN MY FINGERs FALL OFF?"

After reassuring her that she did not, in fact, have leprosy and thus could continue living with us, I told my son that until he had the letters MD behind his name he was not allowed to diagnose his sister. We then went on to pray for her healing.

Back to my list.

I'm praying for God to plant the seeds in the hearts of our future core group, that He would begin to raise up the families we are to minister with. May we all be of one accord, and all about His glory.

So that's what I'm doing today. I'm feeling better, and am writing a story about something that happened to me as a child, and how God revealed Himself through it. It was a beautiful reminder of what God has done in my life, and how truly faithful He has been to me.

Have a wonderful day, my friends.

2005-06-19T19:29:00.000-02:00

What Are You?

2005-06-12T19:52:00.000-02:00

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God,
and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls.
People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.

Emergent/Postmodern

79%

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan

75%

Classical Liberal

61%

Neo orthodox

61%

Reformed Evangelical

50%

Fundamentalist

43%

Charismatic/Pentecostal

39%

Modern Liberal

29%

Roman Catholic

11%

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

Woman On A Mission

2005-05-28T21:00:00.000-02:00

Thank you all for your comments about my daughter going to Kindergarten in the fall. Writing is truly my Prozac, so I'm feeling much better now. Just so you know, you all are my collective Dr. Phil and I thank you for giving my little emotional tangents the attention that you do.

I am a woman on a mission. I recently watched "The Wizard Of Oz" for the first time with my children, and it was an amazing experience to watch it through their eyes. Ironically, the man who played The Coroner ("As Coroner I must concur, I thoroughly examined her, and she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead!") lives here in my town, and I'm going to see if I can take the kids to meet him. He's in his 80's, and I hear he's extremely friendly and very willing to meet with fans.

I plan on taking a picture of him with my kids, and using it for our Christmas cards this year.

queue "mission impossible" music now...

Kindergarten and Waterfalls

2005-05-25T19:17:00.000-02:00

My daughter is going to kindergarten in the fall, and it's breaking my heart.

My heart is not breaking because I will miss her, although I will miss her company. I'm not worried about her academically, because she is more than ready. I'm not scared that she won't make friends, because she is going to be Queen Divalicious Of The Playground and will develop a fan base wherever she goes. I'm heartbroken because I see myself in her 5 yr old body and I'm desperate to stop the progression of time.

I remember being 5. As a matter of fact, my first memories emerge from that season of my life and I remember exactly two things. I remember having a friend named Wendy, who had freckles and red pigtails. Come to think of it, isn't she the face of a fast food restaurant?

I see the two of us running out to the playground and I can hear her telling me to run faster. We bound out to the field beyond the playground and start digging, and I hit a buried 2X4. When I tell my friend that it feels warm, a 4th grader overhears me and says that it was warm because it's the doorway to Hell. Horrified, we run back to the Kindy playground screaming the whole way, convinced that Lucifer himself is behind that board, waiting to drag us to the underworld. Needless to say, I hung by the monkey bars for the rest of the year.

My other memory is of my 5 year old self, sitting at my desk in wet pants, too humiliated to tell my teacher. She finally noticed the puddle beneath my chair and called me out in front of the class, telling me that she didn't think she had any more clothes for me. Why is it that the shameful memories come back in 20/20 sharpness, when the good ones aren't quite as clear?

These two memories are a bookend to my school career, and it was pretty much downhill from there. My mother's mental illness became more apparent in the next few years, and although I was a good student, my home life was very unpredictable so this made for a very insecure and sad little girl. 28 years later, here I am watching my little clone walk into the next season of her life and I'm having a really hard time.

My daughter looks like me, acts like me, talks like me, moves like me. This has triggered a sort of deja-vu effect, where I see a little Spiritual Ingenue headed into the childhood I lived. Realistically, I know that this is not her future because unlike her mother, she lives in a stable home and has a bullet proof self esteem. However, I find myself overwhelmed with emotion as I watch her grow and I feel an almost animal- like instinct to halt the process of time so she'll never have to experience what I went through.

I want to grab my daughter and scream, "Don't grow up! Don't walk down this road because there is pain ahead and I can't bear to watch you walk into that! Stay here with me so I will know you are safe! I will shield you and protect you with my life, just please don't get any older!" I am fighting the urge to hold her back from a destiny I lived out, which is not her destiny. Like many others, I experienced sexual abuse at the hands of others so I see the bad people of my past in her future, when in reality they don't exist. It's as though I'm about to dream a bad dream that I can't stop but I know won't happen, if that makes sense.

When I set aside my emotions, I realize that sin has many layers, affecting not only the sinner and victim, but trying to claim future victims as well. Someone else's sin that affected me is acting like a waterfall, threatening to steal my faith in God's hand of protection over my child. It is also trying to reclaim its place of destroyer in my own life, threatening to undo the healing that God has done in this area. I feel myself victimized all over again by the doubt that is trying to sneak into my spirit, and I hate it.

So, I tearfully pray Jeremiah 29:11 over both of my children, claiming hopeful and prosperous futures full of light and joy. I remind myself of the freedom, restoration and healing I have found in Christ regarding my abuse, and I do my best to dwell in that spacious place God has set my feet upon. And, I rejoice in watching my beautiful daughter walk confidently into a safe and shielded future, thankful that she has parents who are ever watchful and prayerful over her life. Most of all, I thank God that He puts to death once and for all the sin that would love to take down another victim through fear and doubt. Thank you Father that You are a God who lavishes generational grace over His children. You are beautiful, healing, and eternally loving, and I praise You for covering this mother with the reality of who You are.

Just one small request: pray for me in a few months when it's time to walk her to her class, won't you?

Summer Lovin'

2005-05-25T01:51:00.000-02:00

Woo Hoo! Bring on the sand and surf because it's summertime! I survived my daughter's preschool graduation, the end of the year program for my 3 year olds, my son's End Of Second grade festivities, the Jacksonville Film Festival where hubby was on staff, and various long distance family issues that demanded my attention.

I'm ready to chill out and to write, and I have a dozen posts I'm putting together. Last night, a girlfriend and I went to see the new Star Wars movie, and we stayed up half the night talking about the spiritual aspects of the characters and plot. I left the movie feeling so incredibly sad at Anikan Skywalker's choice to turn to the Dark Side, even though we all knew he would. I have been thinking of how he made the decision out of a purely motivated heart of love. He went the wrong direction, but in his mind it was for the right reason. It was a bad means to a good end.

How many times do we choose to go down the wrong road, focusing on the fact that that the end result will be good? It makes it easier to make the choice, the cost worth the reward, when we justify having to walk through the bad to reach the good that we want. No pain no gain, right? If I'm being honest, there are times when I minimize the reality of my choices so that it doesn't seem so bad. Does that ever happen to anyone else?

Don't know where I'm going with that, or if it makes sense because it's late, but those are my thoughts this evening.

G'night friends.

My Fred Astaire

2005-05-15T17:42:00.000-02:00

Jesus is my
Fred Astaire
sweeping me across the floor
in a strong embrace...
we move to a music
that only we can hear

twirling
whirling
surrounded with loud
I hear a pounding bass line
that drives us forward
and takes me with it.

I scream with delight
and hang on for dear life.

The music slows
and I am breathless now.
We ease into a space
of quiet
the place of stillness
that span by the river
where He has led me
to rest
On Him.

We dwell there a moment,
an eternity it seems...
just long enough to
catch our breath

Time for another dance.

The music starts up again
He takes me once more
into His strong arms
and we waltz...
a slow
steady
beautiful tune
that only we can hear

We move slowly enough
to take in the beauty surrounding us
I am held
safe
embraced

I stand on His feet
so I don't misstep
He laughs.
"You're right where I want you, My sweet."

I sigh
content
a wallflower no more

I am so blessed
to have been asked to dance through time
with my Fred Astaire

Too Busy Commenting...

2005-05-15T00:39:00.000-02:00

... on other people's blogs and not putting anything out on mine! I suppose that is the ebb and flow that is blogging. I'm loving what I'm reading elsewhere, and it has fed me. Now it's time for me to do the feeding again. :)

Off to put together a love story of a different sort for your reading pleasure.

s.i.

Brush

2005-05-13T00:52:00.000-02:00

By Beth Moore Apr 20, 2005

Knoxville Airport - waiting to board the plane: I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise.

Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego... I tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on an old man.

I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered reading somewhere that he was dead. So this man in the airport.. an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?.... There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.

I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!"... There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane."

Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm you're girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am going to witness to this man."

Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair." I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane, How am I suppose to brush his hair without a hairbrush?"... God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly finish you unto all good works." (2 Tim 3:7)

I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?" "May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair? To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that. At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks.

Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? OF course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush."

"I have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull.

A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's.

His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?" He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures.

He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride." "She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself. What a mess I must be for my bride."

Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.

Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?" I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to share.

I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted because you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!

I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way... all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.

John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

By Beth Moore In "Further Still"

so sad

2005-05-05T01:33:00.000-02:00

I had a post in the hopper about my experience at church on Sunday, but none of that matters now because we may have to put our dog down.

He has horrible hip dysplasia, a painful degenerative condition that renders them immobile. It came on suddenly.

We are heartbroken because Bogey is our baby, and the most perfect dog you could ever ask for. If you think of it, please say a prayer for our kids, ages 8 and 5.

I don't even know how to explain this to them, so please pray for wisdom for me to know what to say, and comfort for them when they fully process what I'm saying.

Thanks.

Another Call To The Women Of God

2005-05-01T17:21:00.000-02:00

Latina Liz has written an amazing article here. If you are struggling with getting your feet under your call, this will remind you that the world is waiting to hear your voice! Those with ears to hear are waiting for the Word of God to be spoken through none other than YOU.

God created each one of us with something to say that will bring Him glory in a way nothing else can. Do you realize that the work of your hands led by the Spirit of God is a unique, one of a kind creation? No one else can bring Him glory in the way you can, in the way your voice can, in the way your hands can, in the way your heart can. No one else on earth is capable of conveying Christ the way you do.

Liz writes, "...the church needs every one of us. Each voice represents reality in a distinctive way; each voice is an important part of the harmonic chorale that is needed for understanding. When some voices are suppressed, the church’s vision is not only distorted and deficient but also deeply flawed. "

Liz's article and the one by Melody Green are encouraging me to speak out. And, as I've said before, even a shaky scared word spoken for God is a word spoken for GOD! Today at church, God showed me that not only is our voice for others to hear the Word and love of God, but it identifies us as one who is searching and hungering for the holy. When you speak, you are connected to others who perhaps have yet to find their own voice, others who feel the same as you but are afraid to speak.

I'll post more about my amazing experience soon.

Women Beyond The Cave

2005-05-01T16:42:00.000-02:00

This article was written by Melody Green, wife of the late Keith Green. God has kept the words close to my heart for a long time, but they ring especially true in this day. s.i.

I can't shake it. In my spirit I keep hearing God say, "Women arise! Women arise! With open hands lifted up to heaven. With lips ready to give praise and speak truth. With hearts soft and open, ready to receive My message. It's time to receive your spiritual inheritance. To receive your personal marching orders for this important hour."

As women we should be very encouraged. We may be soft on the outside, but we're strong and mighty in spirit. We are God's secret weapons and the enemy knows it. He takes us seriously, even when others don't. The enemy's strategy has been to keep us quiet and in hiding. But God is doing an end run. He is going to release so many of us at once that the enemy is not going to know what hit him!

I believe in this hour the Lord is saying to His women:

"Now is the moment when I Myself am coming to release you. Too many of my people have turned a deaf ear to you. Only those who understand the big picture and full spectrum of My heart can hear the words, Women Arise! I am going to lay such an incredible anointing on women who are willing to step out. I am tired of fighting the war with only half of My army. Where are My women? Where are the ones I called to teach, to preach... To blaze those trails
even the bravest of men shudder to go? Where are my women? Where are they? Have they not heard My call?"

After hearing this from the Lord, in my minds eye I saw a cave. I looked closer and many women were in it, too many. And they were afraid to come out.

Some felt the cave was a safe place to stay,that only men were equipped to venture out and fight the battles beyond. Some felt content to stay, because the cave was indeed, their place of service. But many felt restless, unsettled. Many felt called out but some of them had been told those feelings were wrong,so they stifled them, stuffed them down. Poured guilt upon themselves. But for some, those feelings could not be ignored and this was right... because for
some their call could only be fulfilled beyond the cave.

Melody goes on to give examples of women from the Word who were brave enough to step out of the cave and into God's plan. Deborah, Esther, Mary... the list goes on. The truth is this: God never created us to be cave dwellers! He designed us to dance freely through this exhilarating life, daring us to trust Him as we walk out our days.

Woman of God, step out of your cave and into the Light. God has amazing things planned for you, things that will bring to life Jeremiah 29:11. Your future and hope lie beyond the cave.

Am I The Only One....

2005-04-29T00:27:00.000-02:00

... who feels really sorry for Anna Nicole Smith's son?

In The Name Of... Sears?

2005-04-26T23:07:00.000-02:00

I was sitting at dinner at my church a few weeks ago, and the show "Extreme Home Makeover" came up. Have you noticed that no one really has anything negative to say about this show? I personally think it's one of the best shows on tv, and it's definitely head and shoulders above the rest of the reality drivel that's on. I am incredibly impressed by the show's purpose and people, and I shamelessly weep every week when I watch it. (don't lie, so do you.) Needless to say, the conversation piqued my interest and soon those of us seated around the table began to dialogue.

Everyone said that they cry at the moment they reveal the new house to the needy family. Some talked of how amazing it was to see these people use their gifts to come together in order to create something beautiful. One woman talked of how deeply it moved her to see the deplorable conditions the families lived in before ABC found them. Usually, these families lived in places most of us don't even like to DRIVE by, much less call home.

Then another woman spoke up. She said, "I think they do a wonderful thing, but wouldn't it be awesome if they did it in the name of JESUS instead of SEARS?"

Have you ever had a time where you think of a thousand things to say after the opportunity to do so has already passed? Call me crazy, but even though Ty Pennington and his team of designers, builders, and volunteers from the community aren't technically doing it in the name of Jesus, the people of the show unknowingly clothe themselves in His character and literally become His hands and feet as they work to give these families a better home. They are ministering to these families in a way few of us can, and as their gifts of love and sacrifice are given, they seem to be as blessed as those they minister to. No eyes are left dry, no words are available to express the "thankfulness and your-welcome-ness" that is flowing between everyone involved. I think that's why the show has so much appeal- you can sense the authenticity and true desire these people have to lift these families to a new level of existence. Sounds a lot like Jesus to me.

Not only are they giving these people a safe home to live in, they're kicking it WAY up to the point where these families will have no need to remodel things in the future, or at least for a very very long time. Go ahead and tuck that Home Depot card in the back of your underwear drawer because you have been given the most innovative and cutting edge appliances/furniture/decorating touches that money can buy. Undeserved gifts, free of charge, no strings attached.

Not only that, the designers keep individual tastes and interests in mind as they create each person's personal space. I admit that I covet the beautiful children's rooms that are birthed from the minds of these gifted artists, and I'm lying if I say that I don't turn a shade green when I look at the master bedrooms and baths. They lavish these families with personalized attention, taking the whole person into mind when it comes to what they do now and what they want to become in the future. Just like Jesus, they look at each member of the family and say "You matter! What you do and who you will become is important! You are to be celebrated! Kill that fat cow because baby, you're home!"

In every way I can think of, the people of "Extreme Home Makeover" are being the fragrance of Christ as they minister to these families. I'm sure Jesus and the crew up in Heaven gather in front of their tv each week (huge plasma big screen, no doubt) to watch Ty blare "GOOD MORNING!" to their next needy family. How blessed He must be to see people being Jesus when they don't even know they're doing it.

Thin Places

2005-04-20T14:35:00.000-02:00

In Celtic spirituality, certain locations were called 'thin places'. This was the place where the division between heaven and earth was said to be at its narrowest. It is the place where the two brush closest to one another; it is the moment where you have lifted one foot to step into the Divine but haven't yet planted it on the other side. I know nothing of Celtic spirituality, but this concept captivated me.

What is your thin place? In what moment do you feel that the veil is truly drawn back to reveal The Holy? Better yet, what are you doing / thinking / feeling right before His hand draws it open? Sometimes the most intense sensation comes right before the revelation.

My Thin Places:

-at night, in the dark, right before I fall asleep
-as I am reading the Word and sense that God is just about to speak through it
-at the moment I leave my selfish mode to fully engage in prayer (you know the moment)

Those are some of mine and I'll be posting more as they come to me. What is your thin place?

"God Is Not Dead...

2005-04-15T14:59:00.000-02:00

...He is alive!" as my 5 yr old daughter is singing. I'm listening to her in the other room, and she's belting out this song:

God is not dead, NO, He is alive!
God is not dead, NO, He is alive!
God is not dead, NO, He is alive!

Alive in my hands
Alive in my feet
Alive in my heart
Alive in my wrists
Alive in my kneecaps
Alive in my eyebrows

HE LIVES ALL OVER MEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Merge With Caution

2005-04-15T12:00:00.000-02:00

Tuesday was my birthday, and it was grand.

THANK YOU for all the wonderful wishes! It was truly a beautiful day, but it was internally so, if that makes sense. I worked as a preschool teacher... normal day there. My hubby and two kids took me out to Applebees, so we were "Eatin' Good In The Neighborhood" with riblets and sweet tea that I didn't have to make myself. I got two funny b-day cards from them- one that actually flushed when you opened it and said "Another year down the toilet!" and the other contained a whoopie cushion, which was immediately confiscated by my 8 yr old son. Ahhh, the joys of relaxing on the couch to the sounds of perpetual flatulence. It's truly the soundtrack of my life.

I had a regular old day, got some cards and lots of phone calls, a check (which is awesome no matter how much it's for or who it's from), some good gifts, and lots of hugs. I am loved, and it showed on Tuesday.

On the inside, however, it was spectacular to the point of overwhelming. This was the first birthday that I've chosen to approach spiritually, and what an incredible experience that was. I wanted to view my birthday not as another day of getting older, but rather I found it necessary to introspect on the meaning behind the day. If you are one to dread the commemoration of the day you were born, I highly recommend you do this.

Ironically, I tripped upon this scripture a day or so before Tuesday:

“For You, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth. Upon You I have leaned from before my birth; You are He who took me from my mother’s womb.” Psalm 70:5-6

Isn’t that intense? That the God who created the universe waited til just the perfect moment on the timeline of eternity to yank me out of my mom and into my life? It brings to mind the image of a car trying desperately to yield into hellacious traffic, and it suddenly pops into the lane at just the perfect time. It accelerates and settles into the flow, shooting towards its destination with the other cars. Maybe I wave at my fellow sojourners, maybe not. Most of the time, I find myself more worried about my climate control, my music, my little automotive ecosystem.

I take that back. I purposefully wave when someone lets me cut in front of them.

But I digress.

I wrote this in my journal that night…

Today, I am 33 years old. 33 years ago, God chose to launch me forth into the precise moment He had ordained for me before the foundation of the Earth. This is the first birthday that has truly found me content, as I have been somewhat disappointed in all the others up to this point. My personality craves pomp and fanfare, and for that type of person no celebration is grand enough or big enough. I love a party, especially when it’s all about me!

Alas, you don’t get the rock star parties when you’re my age, so you must be content with what you DO get. On this day, my contentment came from contemplation. In my constant yet faltering attempt to live my life within God’s circle instead of having Him live inside mine, I decided to filter the day of my birth through Him.

I began to think of what the day of my birth was like for my parents. I was their first, born 3 years after they married. They were good hearted people, kind and loving. My dad was trying to move past the emotional torture of his combat experiences in Vietnam, and my mom was on the shores of mental instability but had not yet entered those waters. A good time as any to welcome a baby, I think.

I see their faces now, their body language as they held me, checking out my features and talking softly. I’m sure my mother spoke to me in blended words of Spanish and English, flowing smoothly between the two so I would know just how much I was loved in both languages. Looking back from today, knowing all I’ve gone through, I wonder how they would have acted had they known the life I had been born into. They couldn’t have know the joy or sadness this life would hold, and that’s a good thing. I remember a line from a movie from a few years back, where Joe Pesci portrayed a homeless man living in the basement of Harvard’s library. He used the word “joy-ache”, saying that it was possible to feel the two emotions simultaneously. I know my parents would have felt that very emotion, weeping at the pain I would endure, celebrating the triumphs I would experience.

They would have wanted to shield me, to protect me; they would have vowed not to let the bad happen and would have promised to replace it with the good and pure. It would have made them sick to know that their new baby would have to walk a journey filled with anything but beauty. Knowing would have robbed them of the joy they felt at that moment.

I am convinced that one of God’s most gracious acts of mercy is to shield us from our future. He reveals the truth of our destiny only at the moment we step into it, loving us enough to shield us from its reality. Thankfully, the unknown joy that our lives hold balances out the ache, and as we reflect on our journey we see that the joy was worth getting to, even if we had to walk a painful road to get there. If we knew what our future held, we wouldn’t believe it anyway, would we?

Looking back at my young parents, I wish they could have known that their baby would never have to walk alone; that there was a strong God holding her hand at every moment, through every dark valley she would go through. I so wish they could have had a glimpse of this great God who knew them even though they didn’t know Him. I know they mourn today over things I had to endure. I wish I could convince them now, as an adult, that I'm thankful for every moment of pain I experienced, and that those moments were the very thing that revealed God to me. My pain gave Him opportunity to show Himself alive, and I'm convinced that He would still be a mysterious, unnecessary figure of condemnation had I not needed Him the way I did.

So, I am truly in a place of contentment and praise as I assess my 33 years. The ancient Hebrews believed that one was "coming into their own strength" as they entered their 30's. I feel like I get it now, that I am entering into a season of truly knowing who I am because I finally know WHOSE I am. May this year be, for all of us, one of entering into our full strength in all areas of our lives as we seek to glorify the One who put us where we are.

"Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceedingly and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." 2 Cor 4:16-18

Ask A Monk To Pray For You

2005-04-12T16:41:00.000-02:00

CHECK THIS OUT. You can email your prayer needs to a group of monks who live in a monestary in Ireland and they will pray for you:

Your request for prayer will be also transferred electronically to a group of five monks of the Benedictine Congregation of St. Mary of Monte-Oliveto, who have established a monastic presence in Rostrevor, Co.Down, Northern Ireland. During their times of silent prayer and meditation and their main liturgical celebrations of morning and evening prayer, the Monks have generously offered to pray for the intentions of those who make requests through this website. We thank them on your behalf. Please remember the monks in your prayers also.

I highly recommend you go to their website, and look at the list of people who have asked for prayers. It's very simple- just their name, location, and a short description of their need.

Somehow, I'm touched and comforted by the fact that 5 monks in Ireland are entreating the Lord on my behalf.

Go here.

To My Catholic Brothers and Sisters

2005-04-03T23:43:00.000-02:00

My prayers go out to you in your time of grief. May you be surrounded with the peace and the love of God in the days ahead, and may your time of mouring be perfumed by the fragrant presence of Christ.

Psalm 23

A David psalm

¹GOD, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.

²You have bedded me down in lush meadows,

you find me quiet pools to drink from.

³True to your word,

you let me catch my breath

and send me in the right direction.

⁴Even when the way goes through

Death Valley,

I'm not afraid

when you walk at my side.

Your trusty shepherd's crook

makes me feel secure.

⁵You serve me a six-course dinner

right in front of my enemies.

You revive my drooping head;

my cup brims with blessing.

⁶Your beauty and love chase after me

every day of my life.

I'm back home in the house of GOD

for the rest of my life.

taken from The Message

Which Book Of The Bible Are You?

2005-04-01T16:58:00.000-02:00

Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Am I Jerusalem?

2005-03-31T00:50:00.000-02:00

This is a piece I wrote a few years ago, just as I was beginning to find my voice. Maybe it will connect with you, maybe I'm theologically dead wrong and I'll get flamed, but here it is for your reading pleasure. s.i.

“Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden…” These were the words of Jesus as he approached the city of Jerusalem. He was telling His disciples to fetch him a colt- the owners would know what it was for. They brought it to Jesus, put Him on it, and continued on.

The Bible doesn’t say what triggered the praise. It only says “the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen…” Although there were some nay-saying Pharisees in the crowd, the mood surrounding Jesus was abuzz with soulful praise, political manifesto, and rejoicing in the presence of the newly revealed Messiah. This was The Christ, riding into town on a borrowed colt and surrounded by shameless worshippers who didn’t stop to listen to the voice of rebuke.

Envisioning the scene, it’s hard to imagine something capable of shifting the mood. However, as Jesus approached His beloved Jerusalem, He was swept away with emotion. He gazed across the hills and valleys of this beautiful place and He wept. He didn’t shed a few tears and go on His way. He stayed there and lamented over the city once called “The perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth”. (Lamentations 2:15).

Jesus mourned. He wailed as if He were grieving the dead. Overcome with sadness, He said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…” This, a simple message, would be spoken over a city that would deny His deity and eventually crucify Him. They were rejecting Him, and it was tearing Him apart.

Earlier, as Jesus was finishing up His Lesson of the Seven Woes, He ended with a profound statement: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem… how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.” As I read through these passages of scripture, I find it easy to skim over the raw emotion of what Jesus was feeling as He gazed over the city of Jerusalem. It’s not comfortable for me to pause there with Him on the hillside… tears like that make me uncomfortable. If it’s one thing I don’t know how to handle, it’s seeing a man that I’ve given “hero status” to break down emotionally. My heroes aren’t supposed to be sad, they’re supposed to take care of me when I’M sad. So, when one of my heroes shows that kind of emotion, I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know what to do. I usually end up crying harder than they are, and that helps no one. Basically, it’s easier on my heart to avoid the situation altogether.

Until recently, I’ve been able to do just that with this entire passage in Luke. I find it easier to move quickly to the action of the next chapter where Jesus is flipping tables and cleaning house. THAT’S how I see Jesus in my mind- the Superhero who takes care of bad guys and flips a table or two when the need arises. Dwelling with Him as He weeps is so far out of my comfort zone I can hardly stand it. However, God recently led me to do just that, and I learned a few things from the experience.

Christ’s message on the hillside is not complex, nor is it mysterious… too often I am guilty of reading too much into His words. His pleading is simple: “Return to me. Receive My shalom. Let Me gather you into My arms and keep you safe. Yearn for Me the way I yearn for you. I have so much more to offer you than you do.” Since I really felt God trying to speak to me through this passage, I assumed He was implying that I’d left Him. Turned away from Him somehow. Took my eyes off of Him and tripped down some other path. I figured that He was comparing me to the Jerusalem of Old- the Really Bad One who denied Him completely and chose a life apart from His presence. Perhaps to the point of creating little idols and dabbling in relationship with them. That’s not where I was spiritually, I didn't think. I did feel a bit disengaged, but not separated from Him. Everything was still pretty much ok. Not great, but functioning. So to feel as though God was calling me back to Him as if I’d strayed intentionally, well, it hurt my feelings. I pouted.

Soon, I heard Him pose a gentle question. Despite my mind’s image of a table tossing Superhero, His questions to me usually are. “Are you Jerusalem? Do you praise Me and called me Blessed, and then in the next breath reject my call upon your life? Are you settling for mediocrity? Why do you fear what could happen if you step out to really follow me?”

He knows me so well. He watches me sabotage my capabilities with spiritual inactivity and fear of failure. He sees me doubt the validity of the gifts He’s created me to share. He watches me refuse to put those gifts out there for fear of what people might think. He sees me disengage from His presence, only to have my faith destroyed while sin builds an embankment against me, encircling me, hemming me in on every side.

I am Jerusalem… in more ways than one.

Just as Christ weeps over Jerusalem, He is longing for us to gather in close as well. He yearns for us to dwell within His shadow (Psalm 91:1). He longs to be our constant refuge and help in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1). He created us to be “a display of His splendor” (Isaiah 61:4), but we can only display that which we are close enough to reflect. It really is simple… He just wants us to stay close and trust Him. “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace-” He doesn’t finish His thought regarding what life would be like had they truly known and accepted that peace. Perhaps in His overwhelmed state, He was unable to verbalize what it would mean to them- and to us- to truly know the source of peace He spoke of.

Following Christ is a journey in paradox. We must die to live. We must be last to be first. In His longing, Jesus wants so much more for us than what we settle for. Maybe He is telling us that in order to feel truly safe in His love, we have to follow Him out of our safety zones and into the dangerously scandalous arena of shameless obedience. To be all He created us to be, we need to keep a death grip on Him as He walks us onto the uncharted waters of a deeper level of trust.

When we arrive at this place, we will truly embody the Jerusalem Christ intended us to be… and in the depths of my heart, I dream this for myself. I long to be the “City of Peace” where Christ feels most at home, watching as I live my life in total abandon for His fame. I know I’ll get there, hopefully sooner rather than later. Right now, I’m just working up the courage to stick my toe out of the boat.

.

My Neighbor Died And I Didn't Know Him

2005-03-25T18:40:00.000-02:00

On Tuesday night, at 6:45 pm, as I was baking chicken, I heard a knock at my door.

It was my neighbor Michelle, and she came over to tell me that our neighbor had died. "Raul got killed," she said.

I put my hand up to my mouth, pointed to the wrong house and asked, "You mean the man who lives over there?"

"No." she said. "Raul lives across the street from me. You know, he's the one always helping me with my yard."

It hit me at that moment who he was. This was the little man who was always working and taking care of things, tending the beautiful plants around his yard. I had never talked with him, but his wife came over regularly to give me the most wonderful grapefruit I've ever eaten. Raul was the one who grew them, but I had never stopped long enough to think that through. All I knew was that this sweet Cuban lady occasionally showed up at my door, handed me a bag of homegrown fruit, and talked to me in Spanish. By the long conversations she had with me, you would think that I was fluent and understood everything she said. Not so. I caught a word here and there, but for the most part I smiled and nodded a lot, never truly grasping the fullness of what she was trying to say. Strangely, she was fine with that and chose to comminicate with me anyway.

Michelle went on to say that everyone was stunned, and that they were having a candlelight vigil in the street at 7. She told me that Raul had had a heart attack while driving, and had hit a cement wall with the little truck that was always in his driveway. His death was a complete shock, totally unexpected, and deeply felt by this woman who stood at my front door. Michelle, a single nurse, worked side by side in her yard with the 79 yr old man and they had become good friends. She said that she'd been crying for days.

I decided to go over for the vigil, even though I didn't know him well. It's a shameful thing to admit that I had never taken the time to get to know Raul. I smiled and waved that neighborly wave, but never even asked him his name. I was struck by this irony: how does someone who's all about community not know her own neighbor??? She, whose shelves are filled with books on how to create bibical community, how to connect and minister to those around you, doesn't even know this man's name. At that moment, I was filled with shame instead of sadness at the news of his death.

Michelle finished our conversation by letting me know that they would soon be gathering in the driveway, so don't think they were crazy if I happened to look over there. She left, and I finished up my dinner prep and got my shoes on. Nervously, I walked over to their home, and was surrounded by many friends and neighbors- most of whom I didn't know.

"Hi. I live right over there. How long? 10 years. Nice to finally meet you too."

We congregated in the front yard, friends of a very great man I didn't have the priviledge of knowing. I don't exaggerate when I say that everyone loved this man to their core, and it was palpable as they mourned his loss. A profoundly close and passionate Cuban family, his daughters spoke of his adoration of children, his selfless generosity, and his exuberant love of life and those around him. "If you met him once, he was your friend for life," they said over and over. My tears flowed as I watched his grandchildren weep for the man they didn't get to say goodbye to.

They lit the candles and said The Lord's Prayer and The Hail Mary in spanish, and as I stood there I was immediately taken back to my childhood and the churches I grew up in. The smell of the burning candles, the sounds of that beautiful language, all transported me back to a time when the things of God frightened and confused me. Yet here, all of these years later, I found myself comforted as I prayed along in their language- words that had been burned into my mind as a child and had never left my spirit.

I hugged Raul's wife, telling her in spanish that I was praying for her and that I was so, so sorry. They had been married for 56 years, and my heart broke for her and the future she faced without her precious husband. I was saddened even more to hear that she would be selling their home and moving in with her daughter, humbled when my neighbors asked her to move in with them, that they would be honored to care for her so she wouldn't have to leave the neighborhood Raul loved so much.

A few days later, I saw the family piling into cars, getting ready to make the trek to the scene of the accident, so that they could place a cross of remembrance. It was huge- not one of these little crosses you see dotting the roads around your town. This thing stood almost 4 ft tall and bore his full name. He would have loved it, I'm sure. I like to think that this huge cross better embodied the worth and value of a much loved father, husband, and papi.

I hope to attend Raul's visitation on Wednesday night, and I pray that God will take away my fear of funeral homes before then. If you think of it, please pray that this happens. Most of all, please pray for this family who is dealing with a very painful loss. Even though I never experienced the blessing of knowing Raul, I see God using him even after his death to connect me to those around me. May this be my opportunity to stop reading about community and start living it.

In The Garden

2005-03-25T12:22:00.000-02:00

bobbie at emerging sideways has invited friends to blog their own flower metaphor. With spring and my birthday coming upon me, I thought it was a great idea. So, I chose the gerber daisy because it's my favorite. It seems to burst forth with attitude and an in your face joi de vivre that dares you to be sad. That's my kind of flower!

As I looked for more info, I came across this post on a gardening site. I laughed at the irony... I am so a gerber daisy.

They require full sun but I've found that if you keep them away from extremely hot situations, they perform much better.

You want to be careful not to over water. They actually
prefer to be a little on the dry side (like my sense of humor!) and if you're using them in containers you want to make sure that you select companions for them that require similar conditions.

Gerber daisies are heavy feeders and that's easy to understand when you think about just how much energy it takes to produce such vibrant robust blooms.

I'm trying to come up with breathtaking prose about how this flower embodies all that I am as a woman, but the words aren't coming. Nothing complex or poetic is flowing at the moment, so I leave you to make your own conclusions. :)

A Whole Lotta Nothin'

2005-03-20T19:32:00.000-02:00

I'm a college basketball widow, so not a whole lot is going on.

I just finished making some small strawberry shortcakes for my kids, and they were so excited. My son asked "Let's all say what our favorite part of the shortcake is. Mine is the cake."

My daughter said "Mine is the whip." Meaning whipped cream.

I said that mine was the strawberries. My son exclaimed "WOW! Together, we make a whole shortcake!"

It's Only Make Believe

2005-03-14T16:02:00.000-02:00

Who else cries a lot during the Easter season? I never used to be this way. For many years, I was more "touched" by the events at Christmas, and gave a somewhat cursory spiritual nod to the Easter holiday. That sounds horrible, but for some reason I was more deeply affected when I meditated on that sweet little baby in the manger. I think it's because I was more comfortable being "happy emotional" than "sad emotional."

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I grew up Catholic, and in our parish (and in my trailer) the focus seemed to be more on the suffering and death of Jesus than on His Resurrection. His limp and lifeless body was still hanging on the crucifixes that adorned our home- no one ever came to take him down, to minister to His broken body with spices and cloth. There He stayed, head hung, fixed in that death pose that spoke such a statement of finality. Looking back on myself as a little girl, I wish that I had held the vision of the empty tomb in my mind as I gazed upon those crosses. I wish I had truly grasped the end of the story, or rather that the cross was only the beginning. Then maybe those crosses wouldn't have scared me so much.

However, I now find myself meditating on His Golgotha experience, and these days I'm doing it often. I'm not afraid to go there anymore, to ponder the full scope of His suffering and death. I spend a lot of time thinking about what prayers Jesus must have said that aren't recorded in scripture. I think about how many breaths He took between his screams toward the sky, and what exactly God was doing as He gazed upon His precious Son. Was He silent? Did He scream too? I want to know the words of comfort His loved ones cried out to Him as they watched Him suffer. Did He answer back? Could they look into His eyes? All of these little details hold me captive and I've been thinking about them constantly.

I'm sure that Mel Gibson's "The Passion" had a lot to do with pulling my mind in that direction, but even its graphic portrayal of the death of Jesus doesn't take me where my imagination does. Only the Holy Spirit could compel me to drive down that sideroad, and it's as if He is standing on my gas-pedal foot, daring me to drive behind the veil for a glimpse of what really took place.

Lately, I've been struck with the fact that this was a movie, made by a man. I am still amazed at how deeply this movie affected me, and it took me days before I could dialogue about it without going speechless. I think that the Spirit of God rested upon Mel as he worked to capture a glimmer of what it must have been like. However, we know that one cannot replicate in the flesh that which takes place in the spiritual realm. Seeing the previews for the re-release of the movie, I am struck by this: Jim Caviezel didn't die for my sins. Jesus did. Jim Caviezel doesn't know me. Jesus does. Jim Caviezel wasn't beaten, and that wasn't his blood spraying forth from broken arteries. He was pretending as he cried out in pain and anguish, pretending that the sin of the world rested on his shoulders.

Jesus wasn't pretending.

Remember the feeding frenzy that revolved around this movie last year? And this was just a movie.

Its subject matter captured the attention of the WORLD, remember? We were bombarded with proclamations that this movie was too horrific, too violent, too sensationalized. Some said that it was amazing, brilliant, anointed, and everyone should see it because they'd BELIEVE for sure if they did. People ran to the theaters. Others ran away.

Whether you are able to watch it or not, we need to remember that this man made portrayal could never capture the spiritual scope of what took place at the crucifixion. You can attempt to provide the visual, but even at its most historically accurate you can't replicate the visceral. The forgiveness of sin for all of mankind, the redemption of our souls, rested on a real man that poured forth real blood, and He did it willingly, lovingly. For us. And for all the brilliantly gifted individuals that grace this planet, not a one of them could convey in any medium what that was really like.

So, I invite you to let the reality of the crucifixion wash over you anew, to take your mind places you haven't thought of. Meditate on the details, my friend. Lay aside the toil of leadership, shepherding, and ministering, and center your spirit on the reason you walk your call.

May you be overwhelmed with the love of a very real and living Christ as you enter into the holiest of seasons.

Advice Put To Good Use

2005-03-14T00:43:00.000-02:00

A few posts back, I asked for feedback on what to do about my mom and her new found love. Here are some words that set me back on track...

Wow. The only thing I can think to say is that, it all makes sense to
God. He knows the whole, convoluted, heavy-laden thing and He knows exactly
what to do about it. I will pray for you.

... i know it is easy for me to be objective, but bless God she is breaking the rules a bit, smoking cigs and eating burgers in cars, probably swinging her foot while her leg is crossed, flirting all the while. i am not sure how old your mother is? but love at any age, regardless of stability issues or not - is so needed, so necessary. it seems God has answered your prayer, but in ways you didn't expect...

God has smacked me upside the head with this question: "Who are you to refuse someone love?" I have been so wrapped up in the fact that this whole thing didn't happen on my timetable, on my terms, according to my agenda, that I haven't stopped to celebrate the fact that this is the first time in about 20 YEARS that my mother has had someone pay this kind of attention to her.

This is not about me. It's about God bringing joy to a lonely soul.

I'm being selfish, and I thank sparrow and martha martha for their words.

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. Prov 25:11

A Prayer I Wrote For My Children

2005-03-13T01:39:00.000-02:00

I've really been losing myself in the Word the last few days. It has drawn me to itself with a pull that I don't think I've ever felt, and I'm loving what He's saying to me right now. I'm also feeling drawn to intercede for my children in a way I never have before. Is it just me, or is the world going stark raving loony?

This urgency could be motivated purely by fear, but a longing to pray over them has consumed me, so I wrote this in hopes of conveying my heart to God. May it bless you and cheer you on to shamelessy and boldy intercede for your little ones!

May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown (Psalm 144:12) that they may be called "oaks of righteousness, plantings of the Lord for the display of Your splendor." (Isaiah 61:3) May our daughters be like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace (Psalm 144:12), living stones who in the sight of God are chosen and precious. ( 1 Peter 2:4)

May the bones of our sons and daughters be made strong, with the Lord guiding them continually, satisfying their desires. (Isaiah 58:11) Plant them by the spring of Living Water- fill them with your Living Water (John 14:4) that out of their hearts will flow rivers of Living Water because they believe in You! (John 7:38)

Lord, I thank you that You will enlighten the eyes of their hearts, that they may know what is the hope to which You have called them, what are the riches of the glorious INHERITANCE in the saints, and what is the immessurable greatness of His power toward us who believe. (Eph 1:18) Give them spirits of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of You (Eph 1:17) that this gives them strength to comprehend what is the height and depth, width and length of the love of God that they may be filled with all the fullness of God! (Eph 3:17)

May they press on towards the goal for the prize of the upward call of God (Phil 3:14) and be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding so that they walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him and bearing good fruit in every good work and increasing of the knowledge of God. (Col 1:9) In all they do, may the work of their hands always glorify the beautiful image of the invisible God, who is Christ Jesus. (v 15)

I THANK YOU FATHER that you have forgiven them all their sins, that you nailed them to the cross and in doing so You disarmed the rulers and the authorities, putting them to open shame in front of my children in triumph! (Col 2:13-15) This is why no weapon formed against them will prosper! (Isaiah 34:17) I will forever praise you that everlasting JOY will be upon their heads and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. (Isaiah 35:10)

This is all I have for now. I'm sure I'll add more scriptures as they come to my heart. It will probably be a book by the time I'm done!

Do you have a precious scripture that you love to pray over your child(ren)?

Scapulars and Schizophrenia

2005-02-28T15:48:00.000-02:00

I had an interesting conversation with my mother yesterday. She's severely mentally ill, but is in a season of lucidity right now. So, I'm taking advantage of being able to engage in some good conversation with her.

Because she has been so sick for so long, and because she is on hard core meds to keep her stable, her cognitive skills have diminished to the point where she functions as a 7 or 8 yr old child. I have an 8 yr old son, so I'm used to the drill of relating to someone of that mental capacity. I'll write more on her history later.

For the most part, my mother and I have good conversations. We talk about everything- my childhood, my kids, my dog, my job. The one thing we avoid is God Talk. Because we don't see eye to eye on this subject, it's best not to bring it up. It's too upsetting to her.

She goes through phases where she desperately wants me to return to the religion I was born and raised in- Catholicism. I was baptized in the church as a baby, made my First Holy Communion, and attended years of CCD. However, my mom's illness kept me from being able to go through my Confirmation classes. That was fine by me; I didn't understand anything I was hearing because 1) it made no sense to me at the time and 2) it was in Spanish. I caught bits and pieces of it, but not enough to spark anything in me. However, it has always been a source of great guilt for my mother- one that she's never gotten over.

Fast forward 10 years, and here's me, getting saved. Born Again. Washed In The Blood Of The Lamb. All those terms that trigger passionate thoughts in the minds of believers and non believers everywhere. My mother was devastated, and disowned me on the spot. I was marrying someone outside the church, his father was a pastor, and I was headed for hell in a handbasket and there weren't enough Hail Mary's she could say to redeem my soul.

It took me a few years to get her to accept my decision, but she's never forgiven me. Most of the time, my Christianity is a silent little elephant that sits in the room with us and we don't speak of it. Right now, however, she's a-talkin'. So I'm listening and trying to be patient, which isn't an easy thing to do when you're dealing with someone who's mentally ill.

Our conversation went like this:

Mom- "Honey, I'm sending you and your family scapulars. Do you remember what those are? It's a piece of fabric with our Blessed Mother on one side, and on the other side it says 'Whosoever wears this shall not perish in the fires of hell'. You need to pin it to your underwear, and that way you'll go to heaven if something happens to you."

Me (sighing heavily because I do not have the mental energy for this conversation)- "Mom, don't you worry about me. I KNOW I'm going to heaven when I die. So are my kids and so is my husband."

Mom- "Are you telling me you don't believe in the Scapular?"

Me (wondering how I'm going to approach this very delicate subject without triggering a meltdown) "Mom, I know that I'm a child of God. I don't need to pin anything to my underwear to reassure me of that."

Mom- "You are such a skeptic. You have no FAITH."

Me (wanting to tell her that my whole existence is wrapped around my journey of faith)- "I do so, Mom."

Mom- "No you DON'T. You don't believe and I think you're CRAZY."

Me (ignoring the irony of that statement)- "Mom, I do have faith! You and I are going to live right next to each other in heaven, and you can come over and we can eat Doritos and watch Dallas reruns. Please don't worry about me."

Mom- "You make me sad. I think I want to cry, but my medicine won't let me. Let's sing."

Me- "Ok. What song would you like me to sing to you?"

Mom- "The Wheels On The Bus, please."

I sing the same songs to my mother that I sing to my class of preschoolers. It soothes her and settles her down, and I'm all about being a source of peace for her mind, even when I have to go out of my comfort zone. See, I can't tell her that it's just been within the last 9 mos or so that I have been drawn back to the Catholic faith; that for the first time its liturgy and mystery comforts instead of frightens me.

I can't tell her of the ancient beauty I see in the faith I rejected for so long, because that would give her mind a road to run down that would only end in pain. Unless I leave the Christian church, remarry my husband and baptize my children in the Catholic church, there will be no happiness in her life where that is concerned.

So, I keep my rediscovery of "the faith" a secret from her, and I pray about it instead. She likes to pray with me, and is ok that I don't pray "her prayers", that I pray "from my own mind". So until my mom is in a place to fully understand me, I will ask God to somehow translate my words of reassurance into something she can comprehend. And, I pray that the spiritual comprehension He bestows on her will give her more peace than any verse of "Wheels On The Bus" ever could.

God Blessed The Broken Road

2005-02-27T23:17:00.000-02:00

There's a song by Rascal Flatts that takes my mind to the spiritual. It's supposed to be offered to a lover, but it's so beautiful in the way it talks of a journey towards the lover of my soul... Jesus.

Here are the lyrics.

Bless The Broken Road

I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to You

Every long lost dream lead me to where You are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into Your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to You

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to You
But You just smile and take my hand
You've been there You understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream lead me to where You are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into Your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to You

God blessed the broken road
that led me straight to You.

A Preschool Conversation

2005-02-24T21:54:00.000-02:00

The other day, I was reading a story about pets to my class of two year olds. I asked them if any of them had pets. Here are a few of their responses:

"Ah have a pet POSSUM underneaf mah house, but I ain't never SEEN it."
"My cat Jo Jo pooped in the excersize room."
"I love pizza."

I love my job. :)

Praying For Sam

2005-02-24T01:59:00.000-02:00

Since I'm fairly new to the blogging world, I've been stumbling upon so many wonderful sites. I especially love the blogs that speak to where I am spiritually, written by transparent people who live lives just like mine.

I know all of these blogs are old news and everybody knows about them, but they're brand new to me so I'm a little giddy at my discovery. It's akin to making fire for the first time and thinking you invented it. Hubby laughs at me; he's very familiar with all of the emergent conversation participants and I think he finds it ironic that this is where I am in my journey. He's been on this road for a long time, trying to explain things to me, but I guess I wasn't in a place to hear him. However, as of Monday, February 21, somewhere around 10:30 AM, it clicked for me. That's the precise moment in time that it all made sense. Did it happen in a moment for you? Or was it a process? Can you pinpoint your "a-ha" moment?

Sorry, I digress.

One of the blogs I stumbled upon belongs to Rudy Carrasco, Executive Director of Harambee Christian Family Center in Pasadena, CA. He's an author and speaker, was chosen as One of 50 Leaders Under The Age Of 40 To Watch by Christianity Today, and has shared his heart with a president. He sounds like a guy who would be very cool to know, and to call friend.

I first heard of Rudy (Ok, let me stop here. I'm going to call him Mr. Rudy because I feel like I know too much about him to call him Mr. Carrasco, but I don't hang with him in real life so I can't call him Just Rudy. Kapeesh?) through his blog about his son Sam, so I was unaware of all he's done in his life. There, Mr. Rudy is just a dad who is praying his son through leukemia, and after reading about their journey I became attached to their experience.

I'm a preschool teacher, so kids are my heart. I also have an 8 yr old son who looks like Sam, so perhaps that has something to do with it. Mostly, I think God drew me to their story because I need to pray for them.

So, tonight, as I was praying for my own children, I added Sam and his family to my prayers. I also added my precious niece (5) and nephew(2), who have been physically abused by their mother. I felt strongly compelled to cover not only my own children, but the children around me who need more of God's fingerprints on their lives. The Holy Spirit reminded me of the verse that says "Let the little children come to me, for THEIRS IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN." I wonder if "let" means "bring", as in "Bring them before Me continually so I can lavish the riches of my kingdom onto their lives." I need to study that one out, but it makes a whole lot of sense.

So, I ask you to join me in praying for this precious family, and for Sweet Sam. If you have any children in your life who could use some Living Water, lift them up today so that they can be filled.

Lord, I pray total healing and restoration over Sam, and that You would pour a fresh oil of Your presence over their family as they travel through this wilderness of sickness and fear. Please provide for all of their needs- physically, mentally, emotionally, financially , spiritually... according to Your vast riches in glory. May the joy of their salvation be their strength, and may they all walk in peace and wholeness where nothing is missing and nothing is broken. I lift up all of our precious children, that they would grow into the men and women of God you destined them to become. May we all display Your splendor. Amen.

2005-02-24T01:50:00.000-02:00

Exalt the LORD our God and worship at his holy mountain, for the LORD our God is holy.

Psalm 99:9

The Bottom Line

2005-02-24T01:30:00.000-02:00

The thought that has been resonating through my spirit the last few days has to do with this season of Lent. As I focus on this season of time between Ash Wednesday and Easter, I have come to the simple realization that it comes down to one very simple thing.

It's about me, and it's about Jesus. The two (four?) of us together, walking this road, for better or for worse, and not letting the junk on the curb affect our togetherness. It's about blocking out the noise that threatens to separate me from Him, about ignoring the distractions that try to entangle me.

It's about His love for me, and my love for Him, and how that plays out in the world around me.
It's about not letting bitterness fester in my soul because people don't validate where I'm at.

So, I must get over myself and grip His hand a little more firmly. It's time to put on some holy blinders and keep my focus on one thing... to press on towards the prize. The one and only prize.

Him.

I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection, so I pull up my boots, tighten those laces, and keep trekking. To walk forth is much more inviting than to sit and wallow.

Join me?

Make That Baby Go To Sleep!

2005-02-21T14:23:00.000-02:00

UGH- I ran across this article on getting your baby to sleep through the night.

Come to think of it, whenever I cry and get ignored, I eventually stop crying too.

Her Name Was Sherry Shumway...

2005-02-18T19:22:00.000-02:00

... and she was the meanest kid in Golden Acres Trailer Park.

This is a true story of death threats and redemption, uncontrollable laughter and paralyzing fear, basketball hoops and dumpters. I share it with you because it is a tale that must be shared, if only to make you more aware of the goings on in trailer parks during the early 80's.

The year was 1980, to be exact, and I was an 8 yr old girl growing up in a trailer park. Golden Acres Trailer Park, located a few miles from the airport in Colorado Springs, CO, was the birthplace of my budding psyche and all I would become in life. The essence of this place is best described by a bumper sticker that was framed outside of the park manager's front door which declared "If This Trailer Is A Rockin', Don't Come A Knockin'." If it was, we didn't, and we knew to leave the lot rent under the Welcome mat. Welcome, indeed.

My life was great to me at the time. My sister Peggy and I loved each other and all things Elvis, and had the most fun listening to my dad's old school country music on vinyl and sitting in cardboard boxes while watching Scooby Doo. At night, we would eat Taco Flavored Doritos and watch Dallas with my mom, which to me was better than any lame bedtime story.

The only dark spot in my little world was inhabited by a girl named Sherry Shumway. Sherry was my age, but carried herself as if she were a much older woman of 12 or 13. The only reason we knew she was a girl was because someone was brave enough to ask, and I know that I, for one, still remember that kid fondly for the sacrifice she made on behalf of the group. It was hard to determine Sherry's gender on sight alone; she had a stern bowl cut that covered her round head and wore boy's clothes with no hint of color that would betray her femininity. Her look was made complete by a huge overbite that resulted from years of thumb sucking- a characteristic no one dared comment on. Most impressively, she could beat the living snot out of any boy in the trailer park, no matter how old they were. This included Clifford- the tall redheaded junior high flunky who taught me The Mother Of All Cusswords (you know the one) and gave me my first cigarette.

Personality wise, Sherry was a hot and cold kind of gal. On one day, she loved you and called you her best friend, even being so kind as to let you ride your own bike. The next day, she would turn on you like a mother in law and post death threats on the basketball pole by the dumpsters. On those days, you stayed with your mom in your trailer and were HAPPY to watch the three channels that came in on your tiny black and white TV. After a time, however, Sherry's mood would mellow and it would be safe once again to play at the tiny playground in the middle of the trailer park, at least until the porch light went on at Lot C-122.

For the most part, Sherry and I got along great. We would ride bikes and play basketball together- another thing she did with power and confidence. Over time, I learned how to anticipate the eruption of her fierce temper, so I became adept at avoiding her wrath while remaining her friend. I prided myself on this rare feat. Or, I did until that fateful Tuesday.

I heard through the Trailer Park Grape Vine that Sherry was looking for me, and she was MAD. "She's pee-oh'd, " my friend whispered, fearing she would get in trouble for using those initials. I felt my stomach drop to my ankles, and I quickly searched my memory for anything I could have done or said to pee off this girl. Thinking of nothing but knowing she knew my lot number, I decided that she would find me one way or another. Trembling, my friend and I grabbed each other's hand and walked slowly to the basketball hoops where I was told she was waiting.

As I walked, I saw the kids from the trailer park pouring from their homes into the streets, all heading to the hoops. Gulping hard, I realized that I could very well be walking into the last remaining moments of my short life and I did my best not to weep at the thought. Knowing it would be more dignified to walk towards death with my head held high, I gripped my friend's hand, ignoring the fact that she was gently trying to disassociate herself from the future dead kid. We headed towards the hoops to face the proverbial music.

I turned the corner to see a large gathering of kids who were standing around Sherry, and everyone was waiting for a show. Have you ever observed a school yard fight and experienced secret joy because you weren't one of the ones involved? Looking around that day, I envied my friends and wished I was in their place, because the look on their faces was a combination of electric excitement and relief that they weren't the one getting killed.

The crowd saw me and slowly parted like the Red Sea, which allowed me my first view of one very red faced Sherry Shumway. She stood there, fists curled up like two little potatoes, and she was breathing hard. Nostrils in full flare, spit dripping from her bottom lip breathing hard. Suddenly, I was reminded that Sherry was epileptic, and I'm not too proud to say that I prayed for her to be hit with a seizure at that moment. Unfortunately, she stood sound, and began to barrage me with accusations and ridicule the likes of which few 8 yr olds have ever endured.

Try as I might, I can't remember a single word she said because the blood pounding in my ears drowned out her voice. I do remember hearing her ask me if I was ready to die, and at that moment, time stood still. I heard nothing, except for the sound of boot heels hitting the pavement and spurs spinning. I'm still not quite sure where that came from. At that point, Sherry's nose was inches from mine, and her eyes burned holes into my skull as she snorted and spit while trying to catch her breath. I was too scared to cry, too scared to breathe, too scared to speak. I closed my eyes and waited for the first blow.

It's amazing to think of how a moment can change moods so abruptly. Instead of sending forth warring angels to fight on my behalf, God used another weapon to halt the slaughter.

Sherry farted.

I opened one eye, unsure of what had just taken place. Looking at Sherry, I now saw that her reddened face was burning for a different reason, so I stepped back and waited for her to say something. So did everyone else, because no one was brave enough to be the first to laugh at THAT.

To say that I was astonished at what happened next is an understatement. Sherry started to laugh uncontrollably, and she lurched forward and embraced me in a strong hug. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to hug her back, and soon I began to giggle. That opened the floodgates, and soon everyone was laughing and slapping each other, happy that they didn't have to watch this cute and innocent girl get killed, overjoyed that Sherry was the one who cut the cheese.

She grabbed me by the arms and said "You didn't REALLY think I was going to hit you, DIDJA? You know I'd never do that!" Not having the courage to say "No I believe you had every intention of killing me Sherry", I squeaked out a hoarse "Of course not!" and we hugged again. The crowd dissipated, and soon the kids were shooting hoops and running to the playground before the metal slide got too hot to use. Sherry got on her bike and rode off, leaving me to walk back to my trailer alone to ponder what had just taken place.

I lost touch with Sherry and the trailer park kids not long after that. My parents got a divorce two years later and my innocent life slammed into reality when my siblings and I moved out of the trailer in Golden Acres to go and live with my dad in a house across town. Things were worse in some ways, better in others, and different altogether, as we worked to make our new life seem normal and settled. I can say that I never received another death threat, and was never at the center of another fight. For this I am forever grateful. However, I will always remember the way something unexpected halted the course of events, and how relieved and thankful I was for that moment of sudden redemption. It was a gift that gave me a new and vibrant appreciation for life that I try to carry with me to this day.

And, to you Sherry, wherever you are, I hope that you settled down and stopped scaring those around you. You looked much nicer when you were laughing.

A Ridiculous Faith

2005-02-05T19:19:00.000-02:00

I thought I would be a blogging fool once I got this up and running. Alas, I find that I'm too busy living life instead of writing about it.

I am a writer, and try to journal my day faithfully. However, I've been caught up lately in the living of my life, and I find myself exhausted at the end of the day with no energy to record God's workings for my children. That bothers me.

I am bothered because I am all about recording the work of God in my life, so that my children will have a journal of Real Live Faith to draw from when I'm not there to speak it to them. Or, when I am able to speak but don't have the mind to relay the details of His work. Or, when I can't speak because I'm dead. Anyway, it's not about me, it's about God making Himself real TO me in the impossible... this I want to pass down to my babies.

I try to record my most shameless and outlandish prayer requests so I can follow it up with a "You would not BELIEVE how God answered THAT one..." I think God is waiting for the challenge, personally. We make things easy for Him by leaving the doable tasks at His feet, while holding the impossible and improbable things close to our hearts so we have something to fret over. Ever do that? It's easy to trust for the small. It's so hard to trust for the big.

So, that is why my journals are important to me. I want to have a record of the ridiculous ways God works in my life so my children believe for the ridiculous in theirs. If I, as a mother, don't draw them down the path of shameless faith, who will? Oh, I realize that they may go that route anyway, and I pray that they do when logic threatens to keep them on the road more easily traveled. But, because they're my children, I default to a heavier hand of assistance (as I seem to do with things that are hard) and I find myself writing a manual for them to follow when they must believe for the impossible. Note to self: remember to include examples of grace for when YOU choose logic instead of belief.

My prayer for the faith of my children is that in difficult moments, when logic and reason threaten to invade their spirits, they will stubbornly grab hold of faith in Christ. I long for them to expect the mountain to move, and that their faith is such that they have raincoats at the ready for the moment the sea water splashes over them. Believe God for the impossible, my sweet children! Approach Him in confidence and freedom! Challenge God to do the crazy in your lives! He is waiting to be glorified in your journey, so allow Him to display His splendor as you believe that His power is true. I love you and can't wait to see where your journeys take you.

Uber Preschool Teacher

2005-01-20T19:44:00.000-02:00

I love the word uber.

Anyway, I worked today and had my first conference. I set a timer so I wouldn't talk longer than I needed to, but when it beeped I shut it off and we kept talking.

That is sooooooo me. Set a boundary for myself, run into it, kick it aside and keep running. She has no self control, ladies and gentlemen.

In other news, my adorable 5 yr old daughter got her new glasses on Monday. Today, we went for a walk around the block. She could hardly contain herself when she realized she could read the house numbers- and proceeded to do just that until we arrived back at our home. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

2005-01-16T18:06:00.000-02:00

Hear my prayer, O LORD; listen to my cry for mercy. Psalm 86:6

Before the Throne of God Above

2005-01-15T05:52:00.000-02:00

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me

My name is graven on His hands
My name is written on His heart
I know that while in heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart
No tongue can bid me thence depart

When Satan temps me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end to all my sin

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me
To look on Him and pardon me

Behold Him there the risen Lamb
My perfect spotless righteousness
The great unchangeable I AM
The King of glory and of grace

One with Himself I cannot die
My soul is purchased by His blood
My life is hid with Christ on high
With Christ my Savior and my God
With Christ my Savior and my God

One with Himself I cannot die
My soul is purchased by His blood
My life is hid with Christ on high
With Christ my Savior and my God
With Christ my Savior and my God

Written by Charitie L. Bancroft in 1863 and evidently has been sung to the traditional tune, Sweet Hour of Prayer.
This song was recently released with a different tune on the
CD Hiding Place by Selah.....

I Told You That To Tell You This

2005-01-15T04:53:00.000-02:00

The whole reason I brought up that Selah cd is because of another song. Sorry, I got sidetracked. You'll find that about me.

By the way, HAT TIP TO JESUS for showing me some of His goodness in the vermin area. Go down a few posts, you'll see what I'm talking about.

As you read, I've been quite busy the last few days with my hands in my daughter's hair. You know, you get to know your child really well when they sit at your feet for hours on end- I learned that my daughter has a well of patience I thought couldn't exist in a 5 yr old. You should have seen her face when I told her that I KNOW the Holy Spirit lives in her, because she was bursting with the fruit of patience.

She answered, "I know."

She loves praise, so this made her sit even more still. What a cherub.

As I was rinsing the olive oil out of her hair with yet another round of Dawn Dishwashing Liquid, we started singing a song in Congolese called Ensengo- also on the Selah cd. Actually, our version was half Congolese, half gibberish that made us laugh. Here are the lyrics in Congolese and English:

Esengo, esengo, esengo mingi
Ezali na ba oyo ba ndimi Yesu
Happiness, happiness, happiness for those who have accepted Jesus

Mawa, mawa, mawa mingi
Ezali na ba oyo ba boyi Yesu
Sadness, sadness, sadness for those who have rejected Jesus

Longwa, longwa, longwa Santana
Na lingi ko salela Yo, Yesu Masia
Get away Satan
I want to serve you Jesus, the Messiah

As we rinsed our troubles down the drain, Paige started singing "longwa longwa longwa santana" over and over again. There was a sheer happiness and contentment in her voice that displayed her simple faith- if she told the enemy to flee, he would have to do so. No pleading, no asking, no requesting. Just a simple statement that must be obeyed according to the law of God.

While it was messy, the anointing oil that dripped down the sides of her face symbolized a lot for me, her mother. It said that no matter what the problem, the oil of God's presence flowed over it and smothered it. No need to beg, coerce or demand. You know, I prayed over each section of her hair. I thanked God for His deliverance and healing, and asked Him to rid us of our problem. And He has.

Selah la la...

2005-01-15T02:00:00.000-02:00

My sweet hubby got me the new Selah cd for Christmas, and I've been wearing it out. Long ago, I gave up on Christian pop music; it seemed to anger more than inspire and I'm all about inhaling The Good these days. So, imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon The Good as I was listening to a local Christian station.

This group was tearing up a song called "You Raise Me Up". I had heard Josh Groban sing it awhile back, and as I listened to the lyrics I decided it was the perfect love song to God. From me. The quintessential title track to the journey I'm on right now. You all know Groban's powerful, manly- man voice. However, listening to this group worship as they sang moved my spirit in a way that startled me. I immediately placed this cd at the top of my Christmas list.

Before I go on, here are the lyrics to that song.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on Your shoulders
You raise me up, to more than I can be

There is no life
no life without its hunger
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly
But when You come and I am filled with wonder
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up
To more than I can be

Consider it a cheesy, swelling anthem if you must, but it shouts of a God who cares enough about Little Me to sweep me off my feet, set me firmly on His Manly Man Shoulders, and stride confidently through the quicksand of my life.

Thank you Father, for having a passion for this imperfect being. Thank you for your steadfast patience, and encouraging word that says I'm not a loser. Thank you for quieting my restless heart. You raise me up.

You Just Call Out My Name... And You Know Wherever I Am...

2005-01-06T02:23:00.000-02:00

Oh man, I am so sad tonight.

I just got back from saying goodbye to my sweet friend Nan, who is moving to Colorado tomorrow. Not only is she leaving me, but she's going to COLORADO, my home state. I dare say she's moving to a prettier part of the state than where I'm from, so it's a double whammy.

Nannete is one of those friends that God raises up just for you and delivers them right into the middle of whatever season you're in, for just that moment in time. You have a friend like this, I'm sure. They are full of sound wisdom, swift kicks to the butt when you're digging your stubborn heels in, and honest encouragement when you're face down in the mud and can't find a towel. They love you through your good, bad, and ugly.

Most importantly, she knows the Word and uses it regularly to breathe life into my spirit. Not only that, she has GREAT KIDS.

Ahhh, she will always be my friend, of course. That goes without saying and is the kind of weak encouragement that a mom gives her child when their friend has moved away. I dare say that Nannette has been my closest spiritual sista as of late, and has ministered to me so much as I figure out what it is God is directing me towards. That's a responsibility I don't wish on anyone, and she has handled it with patience, finesse and grace. Which is exactly what you need when you deal with me.

Nan and her husband are following God's crazy leading into a land unknown. Ok, Colorado isn't necessarily a "land unknown", but ... In any case, they are following God's leading into a new expanse- one they've never experienced before. They're trekking into The Wilderness eating goldfish crackers and pulling a U-Haul. I so admire their FAITH, even when I know they are scared to death. They know that someday they are going to be missionaries, and with their incredible gifts of multiple languages they are sure to make a huge impact on the world for God. Actually, they'd make a huge impact no matter what.

I miss you Nanette. Yo reso para ti.

2005-01-05T13:26:00.000-02:00

Bogey Fudd, All American Bulldog

Ever Growing Lists That Keep Growing

2005-01-05T12:52:00.000-02:00

It's been awhile since I've posted, but the holidays sucked me into a spinning vortex of Santa faces and things to do. It is now January, and I wonder where the cool books are that I sent to The Sweet 6- my assortment of biological, legal-by-marriage, and half biological/half legal female siblings, all younger than me. Did they read them? Were they drawn to feed their spirits with a moment alone and a book that actually said something? I pray that they did. I pray that they got the book and searched for the closest moment of sanctuary so that they could indulge themselves.

It was a great book... "A Soul Sisters Guide To A Very Merry Christmas." Actually, it was a zine. (I'm still not used to all these new buzzwords, even though I consider myself very cutting edge in every other facet of my life.) Anyway, it was written by two amazing women who shared real ways to connect with your spirit, practical ways to enjoy and celebrate the holidays, and profound ways to engage The Emmanuel. It was beautifully, hilariously, movingly written and I want to be like these ladies this year.

I, Spiritual Ingenue, will write a zine. Or a book. Haven't decided which.

More later- must call 531 people about things that won't matter in a thousand years.

I Worked Today

2004-11-12T17:42:00.000-02:00

I am a part time preschool teacher.

I substituted for another teacher this morning, and I'm beat. I've been sick since I started working, and the germs have taken up permanant residence in my body. I will have this stuffy head until I'm an old woman, I'm sure. Children are beautiful but if you looked at them under a microscope, you would scream in horror.

I started back at work part time for the first time in 7 years. The sheer amount of paper that I encounter now is beyond ridiculous, and I'm overwhelmed. I think it also has to do with the fact that I'm disorganized, but that's besides the point. And, I need the paper to remind me of the stuff I have to do, so I guess it's a tradeoff.

I've been writing a women's bible study, but it hasn't come very far. Lots of notes, many thoughts in my head, and I'm struggling with getting them all down.

I'm A Bloggin', You're A Bloggin'...

2004-11-12T01:09:00.000-02:00

i broke down and decided to become a bonafide blogger. what is that exactly? does that mean that if i get a wild hair to rant at nothing important, i now have a forum to do so? I already have a forum, but an 8 yr old and 5 yr old have more important things to do with their time. the dog chooses to stay, however...

is it cooler if i don't capitalize? you tell me.

off to bed in a moment. i think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.