Happy Blogiversary

"We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise. There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next." Romans 5:2-4 (Msg)

Today is the one year anniversary of this blog.

365 days of my life
recorded in this odd potpourri of language
my muddled thoughts from somewhere deep
between my gut and my head
danced to my fingers, click, click the keys
and somehow a picture of a year was taken,
or a Monet scene from our walk was painted,
perhaps a song sung with head tilted back, neck veins bulging,
or something whispered in a desperate breath.
52 weeks of chasing You to find myself
Only to find it's not at all about Me.
Standing at the door of those wide open spaces
carrying a backback of hemmed in troubles
that blossomed into passionate patience
and the tempered steel of virtue
(It's kinda heavy, but so is buried treasure)
click, click
can't wait to see the sequel, Lord . . .
cuz I just can't get enough of You.


"Drench yourself in words unspoken.
Live your life with arms wide open.
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten."
Natash Bedingfield "Unwritten" (song)

Thimbles, Buckets, and Barrels

"If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer." Matthew 21:22

"Then he touched their eyes and said, 'According to your faith will it be done to you.'” Matthew 9:29

"If you bring God a thimble, he’ll probably fill it. If you bring God a bucket, he’ll probably fill it." Rob Wegner


Lord, why do I bring buckets of faith
echoing hope in a silent clang of metal
when expecting blessings for others,
But when (if) I come to You
for something for myself,
I balance a teetering thimble on a fingertip,
look up with this lip-biting, eyebrow-scrunching,
shoulder-shrugging faith of mine
and say "Sorry to bother you, but . . .
You know, if you get a chance,
but, if not, it's okay ,
I mean I know I don't deserve it,
but if you think it'd be okay,
I, uh, was wondering if . . ."
Sometimes walking away with a feet-dragging
floor-scuffing, probably-not stride of never-minded defeat.
Lord, like the doubting father said
"Help me overcome my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24)
Lord, help me grow, graduate, take the next exit
from this dusty highway of a weakened faith
and put my mind back in its place.
So eventually I will bring barrels for us all
with a "show them", not "give me" faith
that is all for the glory of You.

Mother's Day

"As large as the role is that our mothers have played, the word 'mother' is more powerful when used as a verb than as a noun." Stasi Eldredge, Captivating (guided journal)

"Her children arise and call her blessed . . . " Proverbs 31:28b

I miss those regular walks with my mother
Under the shimmering tunnel of jumping spring leaves,
When we say it's for exercise
to burn the guilty calories of past edible transgressions
But really, we just want to talk,
Those circus conversations
that spin round and round
like the shaky squirrels at our feet
that climb high in the trees every time
she teaches me something I wish I'd known before,
the gentle whisk of our thighs as they shush-shush in unison
and the sharp pat-pat of our bounding march
like the slow, subtle ticking of a clock on a day without schedules
or the countdown to some berry-inspired festival parade,
For this is where I come to soak in the wisdom of her years
like some porous sponge that dries too quickly
and I grow
through her thoughtless prattling
and her anecdotal rambling
and even in her silence
she'll never know how much
I grow.

Carpet Squares and Bedtime

"I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter what has been hidden since the foundation of the world." (Matt. 13:35)

I've got my carpet square ready
I picked the green speckled one
cuz it reminds me of back yard grass
pistachio pudding and mint chocolate ice cream
prickly spring promises peeking from gushy melting snow.
At the dusty feet of a carpenter's son
but there is no book with pictures to point to
or little felt people clinging to a board
just His voice
syrupy sweet with parables of mystery.

A pastoral quilt with a deeply-tanned,
wise and weathered-looking seed-sower (Matt 13:3-9)
I raise my hand, wiggle, and wave. "What's he planting?"
Seeds of mustard (Luke 21:19-31) and a grain of wheat (John 12:24),
and some flowers of the field (Matt 6:28-30).
Or perhaps a fig tree- barren (Luke 13:6-9) or budding (Luke 21:19-31)
One morning, just as the fruit tree blossomed (Luke 6:43-49),
an enemy snuck in like the big bad wolf and planted some . . .
weeds! (Matt 13:24-30)
Little gasps, suck in through the teeth,
"oh no!" we cry- "Will the flowers die? Will the food rot?"
But the farmer is patient, like the birds sailing above him (Luke 12:24),
he knows what to watch for, even in the clouds (Mark 8:11-13).
Don't worry, you must trust in the hero,
For in the fall, is the harvest.

I put away my carpet square with the quick-pat close of a book
And age twenty-some years as I head to her pink bedroom
for books and bedtime prayers
Tonight's feature, an old favorite- "Bunny, My Honey"
As I read of the lost little bunny and her little eyelids sink,
I'm reminded of the lost coin (Luke 15:8-10), the lost sheep ( Luke 15:4-7)
and that naughty prodigal son (Luke 15:11-21).
As the mommy rabbit finds her baby, she "put her twitchy nose on his twitchy nose
and kissed his great big feet", my little girl's breaths are slower,
and I remember the joy of being found
in the good Samaritan (Luke 10:35-37),
the loving father (Luke 15:21-32),
and especially the strong and tender shepherd (John 10:1-18).

Thank you, Lord for the gift of carpet squares, bedtime stories,
and parables that let us be kids again
just long enough for us to learn how to live as grownups.

Woman's Work in the Sand Box

"Who says a woman's work isn't high art? . . . She'd shine the tines of forks, the wheels of carts, cut lacy lattices for all her pies. Her woman's work was nothing less than art." Julia Alvarez, "Woman's Work" (poem)

"She . . works with eager hands . . . She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks . . . her lamp does not go out at night . . . she watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." Proberbs 31:13b, 17, 18b, and 27

I had one of those dreams again.

Those frantic, beat the clock
alarm sounding, impatient knock
everyone's watching, scrubbing the stain
just about to miss the train
dreams,
like trying to guess and concoct
some half-destroyed recipe,
tick tock
where the measuring cups are in Arabic
and none of the pans are truly non-stick
I keep adding a teaspoon of whatever
scrambling, racing, chasing the endeavor
but it never seems to taste just right
Did you know there's no turkey in turkish delight?
I can hear them in the living room
expecting a feast ready to consume
buzzers sound, and the micrwave beeps
Then I scream and wake up from my sleep
Later
that afternoon I watch my little girl
play in the sand box in her own little world
creating important jobs for herself
like a cute, pink-cheeked, busy little elf
counting the dusty scoops of sand
delighting in the squishy wet in her hand
a mushy, gushy plastic paradise
she seems so determined to be precise
her castles never last, holes always refill
someone will come and flatten that hill
but there is joy in the job, and accomplishment
Just swimming around in her little moment.

And that's when I was ashamed of my dream.
Thank you, Lord, for reminding me of the gift of woman's work.
And thanks for my two bedroom, two bath, sand box.

Prince Charming

"At some core place, maybe deep within, perhaps hidden in her buried heart, every woman wants to be seen, wanted, and pursued. We want to be romanced." Stasi Eldredge, Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart; Tis a woman's whole existence." Byron

"I have loved you with an everlasting love." Jeremiah 31:3

three years old
still small enough to hold
and it's already started
through fairy tales imparted
that all-too alarming
dream of prince charming
our "daddy, watch me twirl"
Cinderella magic girl,
who asks Dylan to dance
and act out romance
though he says he's bored
and wants to play swords
she asked K.C. to be her prince
but he couldn't be convinced
she wants to dance at the ball
with someone handsome dark and tall
Lord, I know it's just a game
but I worry just the same
I know she will grow
But I want her to know
Her true love and joy
Could never come from a boy
the stories always tell
of a magic spell
broken by love's first kiss
and leads to ever after bliss
But how do I explain?
how do I make it plain?
the love constant and true
that comes from knowing You.

Field Trip

"And that is the thing about life. You go walking along, thinking people are talking a language and exchanging ideas, but the whole time there is a deeper language people are really talking, and that language has nothing to do with ethics, fashion, or politics, but what it really has to do with is feeling important and valuable." Donald Miller, Searching for God Knows What

"Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn't amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ's body, let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't." Romans 12: 5-6

six hours on a school bus
the gummy green vinyl and
scratched out rusty metal benches
the black and white speckled dusty floor
where you walk on tip-toe to avoid losing a shoe
to the underworld of stickiness
that "old bus" smell that wouldn't sell
on those little tree air fresheners at gas stations
Some bubble gum-snapping,
Mountain dew-chugging,
talk over the ipod conversations
float from the back and turn back time.
The latest downloads, Xenga gossip,
and myspace conspiracies
In the cyberland of "he-said, she-said"
those inside jokes, and movie quotes
and 'had-to-be-there" anecdotes
all collide in that cotton comfortable
"us against them" cameraderie of finding themselves,
Moment to moment trying on different identities
like bands they never listen to
on t-shirts they always wear
in and out of the dressing room of adolescence
until they find that one that fits
all chasing each other's approval
like a dangling carrot just out of reach.
I, the book-reading, schedule watching,
been there, done that, never again,
teacher in the front take out my light applesauce
and spoon from the second drawer.
I smile and love them right where they are
It may not always be easy to make the ends meet,
Or live in the adult land of country club comparison
But it is always easy to love them.
So for now, I will play my part
No "cut off finger or toe"
just a listening ear--
So for now, I will listen
and, with You, I will love them.

Silence-aphobia

"In repentence and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it." Isaiah 30:15

"In some we regret a well-intentioned but feverish over-busyness, not completely grounded in our depths of peace. And we wish they would not blur the beauty of our souls by fast motion." Thomas Kelly, Testament of Devotion

"Too much of your nature is exposed to the winds that blow on it. You and I both need to withdraw more and more into the secret place." Amy Carmichael


One second of silence
like the soft, but powerful click of a pause button
in the blanketing warmth of the sun
like a blue and yellow canopy of lace . . .
This should all scream serenity
But my throat tightens
like the white knuckles before some head-on collision
The tears dive from my eyes
like desperate prisoners of a towering inferno
Why am I so scared of silence?
Have You not commanded me to
"be strong and courageous" (Joshua 1:9)?
But lately it feels more like
"my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer" (Psalm 32:4b)
Much more "like the horse or mule
which have no understanding
but must be controlled by bit and bridle" (Psalm 32:9)
Only, for me, it's the tick of the clock
and the ghost of perfection.
If You truly "satisfy us in the morning
with your unfailing love that we may sing for joy
and be glad all our days" (Psalm 90:14),
Then "Why are you downcast, O my soul,
Why so disturbed within me?" (Psalm 42:11)
How long will I be this "leaning wall or tottering fence"? (Psalm 62:3)
But is there pride in too much humility?
Like some knee-socked, hand-rasing child
who steps into that role of "the good kid"
like an over-sized wet suit
or slippers three sizes too big.
So, in this awkward silence, I come to You
Not for some scratch n sniff sticker approval from you
But just to meet You Lord
To be like David where
"my mouth is filled with your praise
declaring your splendor all day long." (Psalm 71:8)
Or like Christ who loved others to unspeakable measures
and told us "love your neighbor as you love yourself" (Matthew 19:19b).
But You are showing me a new twist on the golden rule.
For if I truly treated others as I treat myself,
I would never be allowed to treat myself this way
for the cause of some martyred cake of humility
Where blowing out the candles would be like
calling my students dumb
Or telling Lauren she's a bad little girl.
My stomach turns at the thought . . .
But to be Honest, Jesus,
If I am called to praise You with
"all my inmost being" (Psalm 102:1)
I'm afraid you might be disappointed in what I bring
like getting socks in your Christmas stocking
or nickels in your Halloween bucket.
I mean, do I really deserve to be
"crowned with love and compassion" (Psalm 103:4)
like some sausage curled porcelain princess
under some Brother's Grimm, pink and purple sky?
Thinking, I looked up at the cotton ball clouds just now
and read how "You make the clouds Your chariot
and ride on the wings of the wind" (Psalm 104:3)
So was that You that just tickled my face with my hair?
Or made the tree shadows dance like flowers on my paper?
How long has it been since I looked up?
Since I noticed these little behind the scenes blessings
that hide behind all the frenzy and the noise?
It hit me just now, Lord
"like a high wall, cracked and bulging,
that collapses suddenly in an instant . . .
in pieces like pottery shattered so mercilessly
that among its pieces not a fragment will be found" (Isaiah 30:13).
A fresh start, a new beginning,
like a child born or lemonade after mowing the grass.
"As the father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him" (Psalm 103:13)
I used to think of silence as
a jury of stern-faced citizens,
sealed lips and eyebrows drawn in like a slinky,
Or some frightening reality TV show
starring me as the fool
who palms the camera to "leave me alone!"
But You've shown me today, Lord,
the blessing of a noiseless moment
Much like a trip to some far off, salty coast
or a Thanksgiving meal
with those yeast rolls mom and I make together.
So next time, there will be no tightened throat
Or tear-sticky cheeks,
only joy,
for I will feel You in the wind,
smile as You touch my face,
embrace You in the silence,
and finally let You love me.

The Absence of Hunger Pains

"If we don't eat physically, we get hunger pains. If we don't eat spiritually, we lose our appetite." Gail MacDonald

"As the deer pants for the water, so my soul longs for You, O God." Psalm 42:1

I just noticed a waning in my appetite for You and Your word, Lord.
A complacent, mechanical, slow-line moving automaton
that saunters over the calendar squares
like a child's half-hearted hop scotch on a hot, sweat-beaded day,
A passionate heart that went sleep walking
And somehow found itself walking the ridge pole of apathy,
Bring me back to the dear that pants for the water,
that cotton mouth, lip smacking thirst that only You can quench
and the sweet sharpness of hunger pains.

Poison Control

"So when you offer your gift to God at the altar, and you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there at the altar. Go and make peace with that person." (Matthew 5:23)

"Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die." Rob Wegner

I'll be brief tonight, Lord.
I give You "the Posse"
Those credit card, hoop-earringed,
horse on the shirt, country club,
convertible girls in high school
that called me under the influence on saturday nights
Inventing colorful, new names
for my goody two shoes existence
yet smiled at me in class on Monday
And asked me where I bought my Goodwill pants.
I didn't even know they still resided in my memory
Until a sermon on forgiveness
pulled out a dusty file in the back
I could see thier faces and silhouettes of speed-boat bikinis
with their pedicured feet propped up by beer bottles
as they read Vogue and discuss the latest 90210 episode.
So I give them to You, Lord
At seventeen and twenty-seven,
I pray You love them
as beautifully and deeply
as you've loved me--goodwill pants and all.
And Thank you for reminding me
of the importance of poison control.

Easter Saturday

"I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God." Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz

In the midst of buying the perfect Easter dress for my little girl
And dying and hiding eggs around the yard,
You reminded me what this is really all about.
Thank You Lord, for a church that won't let me be religious!
A church that tackles a bestseller to reveal
the truth of the greatest story ever told.
A church where almost 3,000 people
will gather together on a Saturday night
to hear that same story that we've all heard before
in a way we've never seen before.

"The magical proposition of the gospel, once free from the clasps of fairy tale, was very adult to me, very gritty like something from Hemmingway or Steinbeck, like something with copious amounts of sex and blood. Christian Spirituality was not a children's story. It wasn't cute or neat. It was mystical and odd and clean, and it was reaching into dirty. " Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz

"He continued with them, "Don't be upset, and don't let all these doubting questions take over. Look at my hands; look at my feet--it's really me. Touch me. Look me over from head to toe. A ghost doesn't have muscle and bone like this." As he said this, he showed them his hands and feet. They still couldn't believe what they were seeing. It was too much; it seemed too good to be true." Luke 24:38-41

Thank You, Lord,
for keeping me from religion,
sharp-stepping ritual,
and the false comfort of righteous attitudes.
Thank You for truth and humilty,
blanket-wrapping love,
and the greatest story ever told.

Prophet Hotline

"All the prophets from Samuel on down said the same thing, said most emphatically that these days would come." Acts 3:24

Somehow the jelly beans and marhsmallow chicks,
Baskets of goodies, egg dying,
sear-sucker dresses on little girls
And stores covered in pastels
cannot overshadow the truths of Holy week.
Revisting the stories of miracles,
footwashing, a last supper, a cross,
and a stone rolled away.

But the coolest thing is reading the Old Testament
and seeing the first use of foreshadowing in literature
as You prepared the way for the ultimate sacrifice.

"This is the brand-new covenant that I will make with Israel when the time comes. I will put my law within them - write it on their hearts! - and be their God. And they will be my people. They will no longer go around setting up schools to teach each other about God. They'll know me firsthand, the dull and the bright, the smart and the slow. I'll wipe the slate clean for each of them. I'll forget they ever sinned!" Jeremiah 31:33-34

What a price You paid for the "brand new covenant"
so we could know the Father "first hand"
and for forgetting we,
the dull and the bright,
the smart and the slow,
ever sinned.
With physical agony, torture,
we could never even imagine,
down to the last breath,
when You "wiped the slate clean."

"Here is my servant whom I have chosen. I love him, and I am pleased with him. I will put my spirit upon him, and he will tell of my justice to all people. He will not argue or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. He will not break a crushed blade of grass or put out even a weak flame until he makes justice win the victory. In him will the non-Jewish people find hope." Isaiah 42:1-4

A stable, a donkey, a carpenter's son
Not a prince, a rich ruler, or a king,
You were always asking people You healed
not to tell people what has happened.
This is how you fulfilled the prophecy
of not breaking "a crushed blade of grass."
Your humility was prophesied years before you came.


"I will speak using stories;
I will tell things that have been secret since the the world was made." Psalm 78:2

The morals to the story, the parables of truth,
the riddles with answers that poured out your love.
The way You left us guessing
so we could find out who You are
even years before
and years after you lived--
Only to find who we truly are.

Dragonfly (Flit, Flit)

"How long will you flit here and there, indecisive? How long before you make up your fickle mind? God will create a new thing in this land: A transformed woman will embrace the transforming God!" Jeremiah 31:22

Lord, sometimes I feel like
a dragonfly, flitting here and there
where the wind would take me
Somehere between a pony-tailed twelve year old girl
and a purse-bearing, check-writing wife and mother.
Somewhere between cold steel confidence
and a bubbling liquid of misgivings.
Somewhere between a pencil in your hair teacher
and a pencil on the paper poet.
Somewhere between a fast-stepping working woman
and a swing-pushing, block-stacking, stay-at-home mom.
Somewhere between the faithful "will be's" and the "trust me's"
and the fearfull "What if's" and the "who knows".
Lord, I fly to you to become a transformed woman
of a transforming God.
Goodbye to fickle fortune and the sounds of flit, flit.

Daddy's Little Girl

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1

"For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name." Ephesians 3:14-15

I was once did a Bible study by Beth Moore where she explained how your relationship to your father can affect your image of God and therefore the depth of your faith. I saw many of the women in my group struggle through this chapter as silhouttes of distant, critical, and rejecting fathers returned to their minds to tug at their hearts. All I could offer was sympathy, but empathy was beyond my scope of experience. Like my own little girl, I was blessed with a daddy who was never critical or rejecting but only sought to treasure me for exactly the little girl God made me to be. I hadn't realized the advantage of this until that night in Texas four years ago. Now, as I watch Lauren with Cody and on those rare visits with my dad, I thank You again Lord, for the blessings of men in my life who have shown me the true love of a father and helped me to get to know You a little better. Thank You for my Dad and Cody who help "Thy kingdom come" as they bring the phrase "Abba father" to life here on earth.

I am from . . .

I am from pigtails that danced in dusty kick ball games
From rope-swinging summers with
brother Tarzan and sister Jane
From late nights in an underground playland
where the wooden pews loomed above like circus tents,
just waiting for daddy to unfold his arms and mommy to play that last note.
From “Great is Thy Faithfulness”

I am from pink lemonade in the summer,
leaf piles in the fall, snow skiing at daddy’s knees
and spring cleaning with mommy like a big girl.
From “Oh, forever more!” and a legacy of hymn singing women.
From men of character and consequence who loved from a distance
Until daddy came along and scooped us up into his heart.
From a Labrador pillow in a basement of Barbies and army men.

I am from middle school confusions with big hair, pegged pants,
coca cola shirts, mean boys, and girls who moved too fast.
From high school cafeterias with square pizzas, juices boxes, and stages full of dreams.
From coffee houses at 2am with homework we never did, kisses under apple blossom trees by the dorms, falling into his eyes like slipping off the diving board, and
Football field conversations under the stars and “You’re my favorite.”

I am from Christmas Eve proposals and growing up too fast
From an armful of daisies and ring full of promise.
From piles of bills, laundry and dishes that came like a car crash every day.
From lesson plans, pencils in my hair,
and dreams of changing the world every ninety five minutes.
From eighteen hours of labor, his hand in mine,
And an eight pound 13 ounce invitation to know who I really am.

I am from early morning prayers
and gold-tipped thin slices of leather bound wonder
I am from the life-giving breeze of threes
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
hope, peace, and joy
From His love, to me
to you.



"I will praise the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live." Psalm 146:2

Women's World

"Do your best to live at peace with everyone (even women)." Romans 12:18 (added words mine)

Ok, I admit it. I am an idiot when it comes to the expectations of "Women's World" and am often reminded by my peers as to the depth of my ignorance.
Here are some rules I recently discovered:
1.) You can't ask someone what they want for a baby shower gift.
(Though I personally would not be offended if someone asked what I needed most for the baby. Isn't the point to bless them with what they need?)
2.) If you give a gift and do not get a thank you note, that is merrit for relinquishing the relationship.
(I thought the point of giving was to GIVE and not expect anything in return? What if they were busy? What if they need your time and patience instead of gifts full of expectations and rules?)
3.) Refusing to participate in a recipe exchange is rude, improper, and irresponsible. (What if I can't cook and don't have any special recipes? I know they evaluate the quality of the recipes anyway--for me, it's just a "recipe for failure.")
4.) Men are to be talked about daily as children who are beneath our scope of wisdom. (What if my husband is a lot smarter than me, an amazing man, and a much better person than I am?)
5.) Women who talk about their children too much have no life and warrant rolling eyes, smirks filled with inside jokes, and whispers in corners where the lookout can nudge if the subject gets too close. (My daughter is the coolest, cutest, most amazing kid in the world--who wouldn't want to talk about her? Who wouldn't give up and forget about the existence of regular trips to the gym, tanning bed visits, and friday nights on the town to watch her twirl around in her pretty dresses, tell me she loves me, and paint messy masterpieces?)

Lord, I pray for Your blessings on these women. They truly are wonderful women caught up in a world without knowledge of You and Your unconditional love. They are doing the best they can with their own set of life experiences. Perhaps they have a legacy of estrogen-pumping legalism passed down by their mothers. Thank you for my mother who refused to education me on the laws of "Women's World" and instead brought me to You--your freedom, your love. And Thank You for a husband who loves me as a woman even if I don't fit in to "Woman's world."

Baby Church

"Do you hear what these children are saying?" Jesus said, "Yes, I hear them. And haven't you read in God's Word, 'From the mouths of children and babies I'll furnish a place of praise'?" Matthew 21:16

We passed by a little country church this morning.
Sitting among cramped houses like two many children in a back seat.
My three year olds voice floated from her lonely car seat.
"Aw, Mommy, look a little church! Do babies go there?"
I laughed, picturing our large expansive building we attend twice a week.
"No, sweetie, that's just a church where a smaller group of people go.
But they love Jesus and learn about the bible just like us."
As I listened to her sing "Ah God is a awethumb God, He wanes fwom heaven babuv"
I smile at her wisdom. There are many times I feel like a baby in church.
Coming to be fed, cared for, drinking in the surroundings for clues to the world.
Thank you, Lord. For little country churches, big expansive buildings and any place where we can come to find You.

Stick to It

"Don't sit there watching the wind. Do your own work. Don't stare at the clouds. Get on with your life. Just as you'll never understand the mystery of life forming in a pregnant woman, So you'll never understand the mystery at work in all that God does. Go to work in the morning and stick to it until evening without watching the clock. You never know from moment to moment how your work will turn out in the end. Before the years take their toll. Oh, how sweet the light of day, And how wonderful to live in the sunshine! Even if you live a long time, don't take a single day for granted."
Eccelsiastes 11:4-8a

Spring break is right around the corner
and the countdown begins
Lord, help me to stick to it
live right now right now
and glorify You in every precious moment.
I can still change lives and bring them closer to You-
even in the two weeks before spring break.

Table Talk

"Friends, don't complain about each other. A far greater complaint could be lodged against you, you know. The Judge is standing just around the corner." James 5:9

"No more cosmetic Christianity – we’re not strapping the righteousness meters to our external behaviors anymore. We’re strapping those righteousness meters to our hearts. Jesus can make us righteous to the core - grace invaded core. " Rob Wegner

I got sucked in today Lord.
Sucked into the table talk.
I laughed at the jokes, agreed with the whining, and chimed in with the speculations.
Like Pavlov and his bell, the approval addict overruled the savior.
Lord, refresh my heart with You and your Holy Spirit.
Let me be offended again and quiet at the right moments.
not to be concerned with the details and the actions,
but with the heart.
It's Yours, lord, and I'm sorry I misused it today.
Forgive Me.
Make me righteous to the core--
a grace-invaded core.

Woof, woof, Oink, oink

"Don't give holy things to dogs, and don't throw your pearls before pigs. Pigs will only trample on them and dogs will turn and attack you." Matthew 7:6

I love how You just said these big things and left us guessing.
There's so much here--so timeless, vast, so universal.
Images and questions burst and dance
like popcorn when the heat is just right.
Jenny who gave her virginity away to early
Because her daddy left too soon.
Marshall who gave his future away to his "boys"
because they just needed some quick cash.
Heather who kept the baby as her new toy
as a couple's hopes crashed
like a freight train through an empty nursury.
Chris who gave up on school
because his teachers gave up on him.
Or were you just telling us to use our time wisely?
To invest our efforts in things that last?
or our money in things that pay off?
Was it a comment about frugality?
generosity? common sense?
Some might say
life is like a math problem, or even a puzzle.
There is only one right answer,
but there are many ways to get there.
I agree that You are the only answer
and there are many ways to get to You,
But, to be honest, I was bored in Math, Lord.
I got straight A's, but it just seemed too easy.
I'd prefer life as a poem, a vague ambiguity,
an endless chasm of wisdom unchartered.
But that's why I love You so much--You're both.
A simple answer and a never-ending chase
Where art and science combine
male and female complement
and especially
when God became man.
Thank you Lord,
for the gift of mystery
and the comfort of absolutes.