Like a kid in a candy store...

....that's what I'm like at the annual Library Book Sale. There are tables and tables of books set out for sale, either library discards or donations, priced at ten cents for a paperback (twelve for a dollar!) or fifty cents for a hardcover. Them's penny candy prices!

In spite of the fact that I love the annual January sale, I never seem to keep up on what week it actually transpires each year, and it's hit or miss for me. Sometimes I catch it, sometimes I don't. This year, I happened to walk in on it, and not having prepared for it, I only had a dollar or so in change with me. So I stuck to looking at paperbacks, figuring that was the biggest bang for my literal buck.

The biggest find (literally and figuratively) was this:

For several months now I've been wanting a copy of The Jerusalem Bible, partly because I've read about it and it sounded interesting, and partly because, to tell the truth, I'm a bit of a bible version junkie.

Years ago, I had all sorts of odd versions, and then I had the misfortune to read a couple of books that argued that the King James version was the only inspired, God-ordained version, and I got rid of all my non-KJV bibles. Then I changed my mind, and once again I am enjoying accumulating and reading many different versions. (Most of them, except for my KJV {smile}, are cheap paperback copies, because how can I justify owning piles of expensive leather bibles--even though I would love to if I could afford it--when so many people don't even have ONE bible? That's my guilty disclaimer... Anyway...)

On my bible shelf at this moment I have:

KJV
NKJV
ESV
NRSV
NLT
NASB
HCSB
NIV
Phillips New Testament
The Five Books of Moses (Everett Fox)

and, now, of course, The Jerusalem Bible.

Which brings me back to my original thread of my great deals at the book sale. I was so tickled at finding the bible, beings as that particular incarnation is out of print and hard to find, not to say kind of expensive when you CAN find it, that I figured I bought the bible with my dollar and the other eleven books were FREE!

And now I just have to share something. This morning as I was waking up, wondering how achy I was going to be once I got up, and wishing my golfer's/tennis elbow would subside, I suddenly thought I knew why sometimes we feel betrayed by God. If we are put here in this life to accomplish certain things, and are given promises by God that he would help us, then  we find we are failing because we are ill, and feeling helpless and abandoned-- well, it sort of feels unfair. God is expecting things from us we can't do. In addition, we know that we walk by faith, not by sight, and that we are being trained in faith-- but for what? Normally when a person trains for something, it's because they are going to do that very thing. You practice running to run. You practice dancing to dance. The idea of learning to live without hearing God speak, or seeing him work, or without his help, seems to point to a horrible eternity. As I asked Hubby later, What are we being trained for?

But then. This morning after my vacuuming was done I picked up my new bible, and began reading. I just sort of flipped around, reading a few pages here and there, getting a "feel" for it. Then I read this, from 2 Corinthians:

"...though this outer man of ours may be falling into decay, the inner man is renewed day by day. Yes, the troubles which are soon over, though they weigh little, train us for the carrying of a weight of eternal glory which is out of all proportion to them."

Oh my goodness. There's my answer, in my exact terms. We are being trained for glory. Wow. I don't know exactly what that will look like, but it's gotta be good.

There is Hope

I first heard this song a few days ago at FrogAndToadAreStillFriends, and it has haunted me ever since.

(I haven't figured this thing out quite yet, so if you don't see a song here, and you want to hear the one I'm talking about, type in "Santa Will Find You" by Mindy Smith.)


Even though the song says "Santa will find you," in my own mind, it's not about Santa. It's about the longing we all have to be noticed and loved, especially this time of year. It's a promise that you will be found, you will be loved, because you can't be missed.

Why do I believe that? Because God is as nice as Santa.

Nicer.

From Psalm 139:

1O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
2You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar...

7 Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?...

11If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

See? God sees us, he knows us. Even when we feel like it's too dark around us for us to be seen, God sees us in full daylight. We are never too lost, too dark, too hopeless for God to find us, to see us, to love us.

From Romans 8:

38For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Tears, and More Tears

Yesterday Hubby and I attended a funeral that closely affected a friend of ours. Although we only slightly knew the deceased, we went for the sake of our friend, because we knew he would be devastated, and he was. I was so glad we could be there and give him a hug and cry with him tears of sympathy and concern.

At the funeral we met several friends with whom we have close ties. We all used to be a group-- I called us "The Fellowship Group"-- that met together once a week for worship, prayer, and, well, fellowship. We continued meeting for several years, through several morphings of the meetings; at one point they became "The Barn," because other people came and we needed to use the larger venue of our shop building that looks like a barn. Eventually, our lives all took off in different directions, and we pretty much ended up scattered and have had minimal contact since with some of them.

But seeing everyone yesterday, I realized the bonds we forged then are still strong. We felt like the best of family, reuniting. We all met after the funeral at Mickey D's, and sat and caught up on each other's lives for a couple of hours. It was SO good, and led to us planning a New Year's Eve party at our house with everyone.

On the way home from that impromptu get-together, I wept tears of joy and grief both. Joy, for the friendship and comraderie and spiritual strength I feel when we meet together with Christian brothers and sisters; Grief, because I realized how much I missed that. It's been at least two years since we've all been together in the same place.

The funny thing is, just that morning I had been praying, and talking to God about how I miss that kind of close fellowship. We just haven't had that kind of support since The Barn broke up. And the same day, God answers. I wept again, tears of -- of.... whatever they are when you realize once again that God is listening and answering, that He really does care.

Leftovers

I love leftovers after a holiday. I'm really good-- if I do say so myself-- at re-energizing leftover food. I think of it as having pre-made ingredients to make other things out of.

Unless it's pumpkin pie. But pie is good enough on its own. It doesn't need to be morphed into anything else.

For our noon meal today, we had leftover soup from Wednesday night-- ham, collard greens, spinach, potatoes, lots of pepper-- warm and hearty, pumpkin pie left from yesterday, and fresh whole wheat bread. Good and nourishing, and a reminder that God gives us our daily bread-- and his mercies are new every morning, they are not leftovers.

More Grief... And Hope

This week our family has been reading about the Holodomor. If you're like me, you've never heard of it before, but now I'm kind of wondering why we didn't learn about it in school.

Oh wait. I know why. When I was in jr high, the curriculum went through a revision, and we did not have "History" we had "Social Studies." I'm still not sure what the difference is, but I think it meant we only studied events in history that furthered the agenda of the textbook writers or the people who paid them. And even then, we never actually made it to the end of the book, which is where the stuff that happened in the 20th century would have been told.

Anyway. This is not a rant about public school curriculum, although that does sound like fun.

I want to share what I learned about the Holodomor, which was a tragedy that happened in the Ukraine in 1932 and 1933. The Soviet government came in and confiscated all the food, even searching houses and pockets. There is the story of one woman who was found with a small handful of wheat in her pocket and was sent off to Siberia and never heard from again.

Thousands of people starved to death. Whole villages were wiped out from hunger and sickness.

There was one village where a man proposed to his fellow villagers that they sow their fields more thinly than usual, and save the extra wheat to live on. They did that, and he set up a village "dining hall," where everyone in the village got at least a bowl of thin soup every day. He himself went around to the houses daily, checking to see how everyone was doing, giving the weakest ones a little extra food. Thanks to him, the village survived, while all around them people in other villages were dropping like flies. He was a hero.

And then when spring came, one of the survivors reported him to the Regime, and he was shipped off to Siberia, never to return.

It still causes the adrenaline to rise in me. It makes me so angry and frustrated. What kind of person would be so ungrateful as to betray the one who saved their life?

And then-- what kind of government would starve their people into submission?

And what kind of people would defend and support that kind of government?

What kind of God would allow that kind of government?

But then, in the midst of my questions, I remember other stories. Stories like the one handed down through my husband's people, of the Mennonites in the Ukraine where they had lived for over a hundred years. Fifty years before the Holodomor, the Mennonites were told by the government to either Russian-ize or get out. Many of them got out, including the forbears of my husband's family line, emigrating to the United States and Canada. The ones who stayed became very wealthy, buying up cheap everything the ones who left couldn't take with them.

Later, many of those left also, moving to the United States, Mexico, and Brazil.

Shortly after, the government crackdown came. A few years ago, Hubby's parents took a trip to Ukraine to visit the places where their families came from. The villages were completely gone, and they only found maybe half a dozen people who remembered the Mennonites. They had been wiped out.

So is there a moral? Perhaps this: God had his eye on those people and preserved the ones who listened.

Why did all the rest who weren't Mennonites have to die? I have no idea. Why does God save some and not others? I don't know. Can we ever know? We can't see the whole story.

Last night Swede came over to show us some scary things he was learning about our situation here in America and in the world. All about wicked people in power, people we've never heard of, power behind the power; and the economy crashing, and terrible things happening. If it's all true, we are in trouble, and we had some pretty heated discussion last night, trying to figure out how to think, what to plan, what to do.

Then, this morning I opened up the morning prayers from the Divine Hours and this is what I read: (with my thoughts in red)

The Midday Psalm
I Will Sing Praises to the God of Jacob

We give you thanks, O God, we give you thanks,* calling upon your Name and declaring all your wonderful deeds. "I will appoint a time," says God;* (is this YOUR time then?) "I will judge with equity. (of course-- when you judge it will be RIGHT) Though the earth and all its inhabitants are quaking,*(that's exactly what it feels like) I will make its pillars fast. (Really? You will hold us steady?) I will say to the boasters, 'Boast no more,'* and to the wicked, 'Do not toss your horns; Do not toss your horns so high,* nor speak with a proud neck.' " (What a relief; you will say this to evil people who want to take more power) For judgment is neither from the east nor from the west,* nor yet from the wilderness or the mountains. It is God who judges;* he puts down one and lifts up another. (You mean I can trust that God is setting up leaders and putting them down?) For in the LORD's hand there is a cup, full of spiced and foaming wine, which he pours out,* and all the wicked of the earth shall drink and drain the dregs. (the WICKED-- does this mean the righteous will be spared?) But I will rejoice for ever; I will sing praises to the God of Jacob.* He shall break off all the horns of the wicked; but the horns of the righteous shall be exalted. (Somehow, the wicked WILL be taken out of power, and the righteous WILL be taken care of.)
Psalm 75

The Refrain

I will bless the LORD who gives me counsel. (Thank you, thank you, God, for showing this to me today. It's exactly what I needed.)
Psalm 16:7

What encourages me as much as the psalm itself is realizing that God cares enough about me to somehow manage that the very thing I need to hear today was prepared for me a long time before today.

A Grief Not My Own

I heard some bad news yesterday. Even though it was very old news, it was new news to me, and therefore just as shocking.

Several years ago, at a garage sale, I bought a old video compilation of various ice skating performances, including one or two by gold-medal-winning skating couple Sergei Grinkov and Katia (Ekaterina) Gordeeva. Have you heard of them?

We loved watching their perfomances over and over, she so tiny (at 5'1") and he so tall (5'11"). A lot of their moves involved him holding her, swinging her around, picking her up. They began skating together when she was 10 and he was 14. Eventually, they fell in love, and got married. It was the most beautiful, storybook romance, and we took that young Russian couple into our hearts. We felt like we knew them, we admired them, we sighed with joy over their romance and their talent, their young love.

Then, yesterday, I learned that Sergei died unexpectedly in 1997 of heart disease-- at 27 years of age-- leaving a 24-year-old widow and a tiny daughter.

The news hit me really hard. It's so sad, so tragic. So unfair. LovelyDaughter and I both cried as if it happened yesterday, because, for us it did.

The nice thing, however, about old news, is that you don't have to wait ten years to find out what happens next. This morning we went looking, and got to hear "the rest of the story."

Happily, Katia is now married again, in fact, has been for six years already, to another gold-medal-winning skater. Together they had another child. We got to watch a couple of newer videos of Katia and her new husband, Ilia, skating together, and of Katia and her two daughters skating together.

I'm glad there is still happiness. Katia was not left a bereaved, lonely widow forever. Her daughter is not completely fatherless. And yet... Still...

Hubby says he feels sorry for Sergei. He had to leave his happy life. He could no longer care for his daughter, and his wife was given to another.

It's good that sad endings can have happy new beginnings, but.... still...

More of the Same (Don't look if it bothers you)

I spent the day yesterday grieving. Not because "my candidate" did not win the election.

No.

But because I suddenly realized that I'd been living in a bubble, and the country that I grew up believing that we were-- the one I'd learned about in the history books-- does not exist anymore. We are not a conservative, God-fearing nation. We are liberal, godless, and foundationless.

I should have realized this sooner. Somehow I was under the delusion that there was still a chance that our nation would return to the moral foundations, the right and wrong, of the bible.

I now know that somewhere along the line, we have become a country that doesn't give a rip what the bible says is right or wrong. After all, among all the choices in the world, why should we use the BIBLE as our standard?

There IS a right and wrong--I think the new terms are "politically correct" and "politically incorrect"-- but I can't figure out what it's based on. Does anybody have a copy of the new moral code handbook handy?

But after I got done grieving for what is lost, I actually felt better.

Because, you know, now whatever happens will just be what is to be expected. Legal abortion?* Why not? That doesn't mean any person must have an abortion, just because it's legal. Gay marriages? So? In a way, this IS the logical progression of our Bill of Rights. We are just expanding our rights. And legality doesn't necessarily mean "right" or "recommended."

But as the Apostle Paul said in scripture, "All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable." So to have massive legal freedom is not necessarily bad. But then we have a huge moral responsibility to use our freedom for good, not evil.

Now when something I consider evil happens in government, I won't take it personally. It's just the natural outcome of a "free" country. I won't like it, I'll still pray about it. But I won't be devastated. Because what else can you expect?

It sort of reminds me of the story of the children of Israel when they all moved to Egypt to join up with Joseph during the famine. As long as Joseph was ruler, they lived in favor and blessing and they multiplied greatly. Then, years later, a generation grew up that didn't know Joseph, and the Israelites lost favor and became slaves.

I feel like I'm living among a generation that doesn't know "Joseph," the country that we have always been that stood for freedom, independence, godliness, and personal responsibility. The country that spawned pioneers, inventors, explorers, statesmen, missionaries. The new generation doesn't know, and doesn't really care, that we've fallen far from the moral tree. This is a new day, a new generation, with new philosophies and new religions. (And when I say "generation" I don't mean that as necessarily an age-related term. I mean that idealogically.)

And yet.

I found I DO have something in common with the new breed after all. What is it they--and I-- really want? They want what's best for the country, for their families, for the poor and oppressed. They want the right to pursue happiness, whatever it looks like to them. They and I may disagree, and sometimes sharply, about the way to make that happen, but bottom line, we all want to live well and prosper.

So maybe I still belong here after all.

Last night's reading from The Divine Hours (Phyllis Tickle) put things in perspective for me:

Answer me when I call, O God, defender of my cause;
you set me free when I am hard-pressed;
have mercy on me and hear my prayer.

“You mortals, how long will you dishonor my glory;
how long will you worship dumb idols and run after false gods?”

Know that the LORD does wonders for the faithful;
when I call upon the LORD, he will hear me.

Tremble, then, and do not sin;
speak to your heart in silence upon your bed.
Offer the appointed sacrifices and put your trust in the LORD.

Many are saying, “Oh, that we might see better times!”

Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O LORD.
You have put gladness in my heart,
more than when grain and wine and oil increase.
I lie down in peace; at once I fall asleep;
for only you, LORD,make me dwell in safety.

~Psalm 4

*Please go read this post regarding the subject of the human-ness of humans.

Fear Writ Large

I am afraid.

I am afraid that the country we began as is now finished. The country that our founding fathers worked so hard to create. The country that so many men gave their lives for.

I am afraid that the freedoms that were so hard-won are now so easily lost. There will be freedom, yes, of a sort. Freedom to abort babies. Freedom to marry one of your own sex. Those kinds of freedoms. Freedom to have your health care paid for-- out of your own taxes.

But there will be other freedoms lost. Freedom to keep your own hard-earned money. Freedom to choose to give it away. Freedom to own a gun and use it. Freedom to run your business the best way you see fit. Freedom to run your family the way you deem best.

I fear that the freedom we have won is the freedom from responsibility. The government will now take over the job of providing for our families, and doing it by punishing the hard-working and the big businesses who help create our economy. The government will take over the job of giving to the poor, thereby absolving individuals of the need to show charity.

I fear that the freedom we've lost is the freedom to be independent and run our own lives. Will we lose our greatest asset, from the Declaration of Independence: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness? And our other great freedom, from the Bill of Rights: The right to keep and bear arms?

I guess these freedoms I will miss are only for people who want to be responsible and independent and God-fearing.

I am afraid that now the country will be all about people who want to remain children: dependents who have no responsiblities, social or financial or moral, because Big Brother does it all for them.

Check that: there will be one big responsibility. Obeying all the myriad rules and regulations that will now govern us as irresponsible children.

I am very afraid.

I hope, hope, hope that my fears are unfounded.

Fabulous At Forty (-Something)

Friday was our anniversary: Hubby and I have been married 27 years.

We didn't plan anything to celebrate, but MandoNut came out for the weekend, and he insisted on buying us all the ingredients for a fabulous steak dinner. He told us "Happy Anniversary," and then apologized for the fact that I had to cook my own anniversary dinner. I told him that it's a joy-- a joy-- to cook with expensive ingredients and not have to worry about the money.

And then he promptly got sick enough he couldn't eat any of it. He lay on our futon (the one he gave us) for two days, too sick to move, while life swirled around him. We doctored and nursed him and fed him, when he could eat anything, even though he felt bad about being the guy who comes to our house just to be sick.

But really. If you have to be sick, wouldn't you rather be sick where there are friendly faces to take care of you, than all alone in a cold apartment, where there's no one to fix you that soft boiled egg when a little food finally sounds good?

In other news, I finished my "unit study" of The Fashion World. I ended by watching "The Devil Wears Prada," which was interesting, and it was probably more interesting than it would have been had I not been studying fashion already. When the characters threw around designer names, I actually recognized most of them!

There was one line in the movie that caught my attention. One of the characters says something like "This industry is not about inner beauty."

In a way, that is sort of the defining quote of the movie. Fashion industry is all about outward beauty. But there seems to be no relation, except perhaps inversely, between looking good on the outside and beauty on the inside.

Which was a good way for me to wrap up my fascination with fashion, style, and beauty. I have watched a lot of stuff-- makeovers, runway videos, celebrity trends, department store "looks"-- and I balance that with, on the other hand, the scripture that says women's appearance should not be about clothing, and jewelry, and hair. Rather, our beauty should be inward.

Well, I have a hard time believing that that verse means we should be as ugly as we can, for the sake of showcasing our inward beauty! There's a chapter in Ezekiel where God describes Israel as a young girl that he took for his bride, and how he clothed her in fine, embroidered linen, and gave her jewelry--including a nose ring!

The end result of all this has been an interesting thing. I find that there has been a shift in me, somewhere. Up to now, I have been coasting on the fact that I'm small and look young for my age, and still experimenting with as much teenage style as I could get away with. I still felt eighteen. But all of a sudden, I feel like I'm ready to be a grownup. I'm ready to be forty. (Note: I'm 46, and now I'm finally ready to be 40!)


LovelyDaughter and I are planning to go shopping this week, to take a girly day, and I'm going to try on all sorts of clothes, including stuff from the womens department! (rather than just the juniors department). Anything modest gets a fair shake. Because, who knows what I might find? I might find out that I look FABULOUS in something I turned my nose up at before.

About Sin and Salvation

In 2006 I bought a software called Notebook and began keeping a journal. I wrote regularly in 2006 and pretty much regularly in 2007. (This year's notebook, 2008, has all of seven entries, including the one I wrote today.)

And by the way, it was interesting to do a search to find how many times I mentioned being achy. Very interesting.

Also interesting to find how much my energy level and motivation have decreased over the last two years. I hope it's the fibromyalgia and not my age. There's hope for the fibromyalgia, but not much I can do about getting older!

Anyway, I ran across a little something I wrote on July 10 of 2006 that I'd like to share here:

I have been thinking hard about life, and God, and dreams, and surrender, and joy in work, and making your dreams come true. Wondering how it all fits together. There appears to be a strong human spirit in all of us that makes us more powerful than we know. And we have it whether we know God or not. So then, what do we need God for? I suppose for answering our sin question. No one can deal with sin.

But now I'm having crazy thoughts, like "what is sin exactly?" I know the traditional definitions, but I'm starting to get a slightly different picture of sin. There is an element of choice and defiance. But we are not just perpetrators of sin, we are victims of sin --Sin is something we need to be saved from.

I'm also wondering if sin encompasses all the wounds and imperfections and inadequacies we suffer from, as well as the purposeful wrong actions. That doesn't necessarily mean we are to be blamed for our imperfections. I think we are victims, so to speak, of a sinful world where we are no longer perfect, and Jesus came to rescue us from that. And in his great mercy he also brought forgiveness for our rebellion and defiance.

What do you think?

Another Glimpse

DrummerDude sent me a few of his pictures from the wedding, and I picked a few to show you.

This first one I like, for some reason. It's technically not a "good" picture, but I love the moment it captures. That's LovelyDaughter, of course, being hugged by Dad. To the right, JD and his dad are exchanging a hug also.



This is LovelyDaughter with Grandpa. I think she looks very beautiful in this one.




And here's the whole bunch of us: JD, LovelyDaughter, Hubby, me, MB3, DrummerDude, and GuitarGeek (who must be just blinking-- that's a rather odd expression he's wearing.) MB3 and DrummerDude are not as scary as they look. They just like the "sober" look in photos. Also, I sure enjoyed wearing the dress I have on in the photo. The other day I bought a black shrug to wear with it, so I can use it now in cooler weather, and just in time, because this weekend is our annual Dinner Out with MandoNut and his folks, and they love to eat at NICE places. I get to dress up! Again!



A portrait of the bridal couple. I have to say that I have never seen a bride and groom look as relaxed as these two do. It must be because we kept the wedding simple. Also, we had no marathon photo session before the ceremony. On-the-spot snapshots are the only photos we have, but they all look so alive, and capture the day so well.

******

I know it's been three weeks since the wedding, and two weeks since the couple left on their trip, but I still find myself looking at the pictures over and over. Re-living, remembering; embedding it in my brain. Trying to somehow comprehend that this life-altering event has really happened. Trying to understand that I have stepped across into a new strata of life; a mother of grown children.

There are days I really miss LovelyDaughter.

Not because she's gone on a trip.

No, some days, in spite of all common sense, even though I am very happy and excited for her, I miss my unmarried, live-at-home daughter, who is gone forever.

Even stranger, I feel kinda like Megan at FriedOkra when she watched her little girl trot off to preschool for the first time (my adaptations in italics):

I didn't cry. Are y'all proud? Actually, I wasn't even sad. Because... this foray into married life feels right for LovelyDaughter at this stage in our lives, and I know she's truly going to love it. She needs some time and experiences all her own right now. The only things I felt walking away from the wedding were giddy excitement for her and a huge sense of pride at how she's grown up and become (acceptably) independent and ready for this, and I've been right there with her throughout the process. And dang y'all, that just feels GOOD.

I can't wait to pick her up after her honeymoon and hear all about it. I can't wait to tell her how proud I am of her and HOW STINKIN' MUCH I LOVE HER.

Oops. Did I say I didn't cry?

Guess I called that one a little early.

Sniffle.

I guess it all comes around.


(read what Megan actually wrote here.)

Which Way Is Up?

I've been reading articles and following, sort of, the political news, and now I remember why I usually don't.

It's a little bit like an optical illusion, particularly the one I have pictured here. Which way are the stairs going? At first, it's obvious which way, and then, after you look for a while, the stairs suddenly turn upside down.

That's the way I felt after reading an article by a woman who insisted that if McCain and Palin got into office, life in America as we know it would be over. Our lives would go down the drain, and so would our country.

Funny, that's pretty much what I thought, only with different names.

It felt strange to suddenly see the situation upside down.

Not that I didn't know there were people who disagree with me. Not that I don't sympathize with their point of view. This was different. I can't explain it, except it was disconcerting.

The question I found myself asking was, of course, Who's right? And the answer is, I'm not sure.

The only way to find out which direction the stairs really go, would be to put people on those stairs and see who walks and who falls off.

I guess after the election, when we start walking the stairs we have chosen, we'll find out.

Dance All Day, Fiddle All Night-- Oh wait, that's not right...

The other day I suddenly remembered a neighbor who lived across the street from my childhood home. Her yard was always mowed, her hedge always trimmed; I'd see her husband out in the yard often. Every morning I'd see her step out on her front stoop and shake one or two throw rugs-- which was my introduction to the idea of shaking rugs.

I can't remember if I ever saw the inside of her house, but I know from looking at the outside-- and at the garage, where sometimes I played with her daughter-- that it was clean and orderly.

So I know she worked hard and well. She was not lazy.

But every evening, after the time of the evening meal, she would appear outside with a lawn chair. She would sit by the open garage door, on the driveway, with an extra, empty chair beside her, an open invitation to anyone who wanted to come visit. Just sitting, enjoying the evening. Often I'd see other neighbors (including my mother) join her. When it began to get dark, she folded up her chairs and went inside.

I can feel the peace and satisfaction. A day's work done. The home in order. The well-earned time to "sit a spell." And NO GUILT (real or imagined).

I like that picture. In fact, I want to LIVE that picture.

Well, We Got The Knot Tied--Firmly, And With A Big Bow

Disclaimer: I am rather tired, and my eyes won't focus very well, and I can't seem to type or spell today, or even think very clearly. It's taken me forever to write this, and I don't think it's my best writing, but I want to share anyway, while it's still fresh, so bear with me.

Yesterday was the Big Day!

JD and LovelyDaughter were married at just about sunset in a park next to a small lake, surrounded by pine trees, and friends, and family.

It was all we could ask for. The weather was absolutely perfect. There were no bugs or mosquitoes, the sky was beautiful, the trees were pretty, the lake was full, the grass was green, and there was a nice, unassuming little breeze to offset the warmth of the sunshine.

JD's grandpa brought his little camping cabin/trailer that looks like a tiny log cabin on wheels, which we parked to use as a dressing room for the girls. When it was time for them to appear, they came out of the cabin and walked barefoot across the grass, down the "aisle" that was outlined with a string of white lights, until they reached the stage area, where the groom already was waiting. The boys and I played pretty music (and I got to use my new fancy five-string violin).

Then it was time for the bride. LovelyDaughter stepped down from the cabin's little porch with her dad's help and they walked, holding hands, toward the front. When they had gone about two-thirds of the way, Hubby dropped her hand and said, "Go." And LovelyDaughter picked up her skirts and ran the rest of the way to meet JD, which produced a burst of spontaneous applause and laughter from the audience. It was an action so typical of LovelyDaughter.

The boys left their instruments and stood in their role of groomsmen while JD and LovelyDaughter said their vows (which JD had written, and they were very heartfelt and real), and then exchanged rings. The pastor pronounced them man and wife, and then JD kissed his new wife, long and hard and enthusiastically, to the accompaniment of much laughter and applause.

Then the pastor led them in communion together, and then Hubby and two dear family friends, Swede, and RR, came forward to bless and pray for the new couple. RR is Jewish, and he gave a wonderful Jewish blessing, spoken in both Hebrew and English.

And then GuitarGeek turned everyone loose, and we had a picture-taking session with the lake and pines in the background, and anyone with a camera could take photos, which added a real audience-participation, party atmosphere.

When the food was ready we all went over to the picnic shelter to watch JD and LovelyDaughter cut the first piece of cake (which, by the way, was a beautiful four-tier chocolate-chocolate cake decorated with pink silk roses). I had strictly cautioned them not to have too much fun with the cake, because, how do you get chocolate out of white satin? (I had good reason to be concerned, because JD and LovelyDaughter love to have food fights.)

JD showed remarkable restraint, and managed to hang around and greet people for a whole hour after the ceremony, and then he announced to everyone that he was stealing away his bride and taking off. With that, he swept LovelyDaughter off her feet and ran to his waiting car.

And then-- he caught his foot in LovelyDaughter's dress and they both crashed down on to the gravel. If it had been me, I would have been crushingly humiliated. JD and Lovelydaughter just laughed and kept going. They picked themselves up, and tried it again-- but this time JD just walked, fast!

And then-- JD came running back, announcing that we had a serious situation on our hands. His car was trapped between two cars and he couldn't get out, and he was frantic to find someone to move those cars.

Yes, it was a "problem." Two cars had somehow been parked within an inch or two of JD's bumpers. Hm. I wonder how that happened....

Swede, MandoNut, and WTal confessed later that they couldn't resist the prank after hearing JD brag earlier about how he had parked his car for a "quick getaway"!

Anyway, I felt the delay was providential, because it had been a bit of a hard moment for me to have JD sweep LovelyDaughter away without me having a chance to say good-bye, and this way I had a few moments to make sure she was okay after the fall, and say "Good-bye, I love you" one last time.

Today, we are very tired, both physically and emotionally. I feel as if I've had a shock. A good shock, if that's possible. It seems like any kind of major change is a jolt, of sorts, and our bodies and emotions have to regroup.

Hubby says with every good new thing gained, there is a loss. We have lost our little girl who lives with us; but we've gained a married daughter and a new son. We have come to the end of these days; but we have new ones coming. As long as I look forward, I'm happy, excited, optimistic. When I look back, I grieve.

Tomorrow I will clean up and put things away, and tie up loose ends, and make new plans, and look with optimism to the future and all the good, new, bright things it holds.

But today is my day --just one more time-- to look back, to remember, to grieve for what is gone.

And then-- forward and onward.

Congratulations, JD and Lovelydaughter. I will love you both as long as I live.

Wanting To Believe

I had a dream two nights ago.

Before I tell you about it though, I have to confess something: I believe God speaks through dreams.

Not that every dream a person has is a message from God. Just that sometimes dreams are a vehicle God uses to communicate with us. There are many examples in the bible, and I've heard many stories of people today who have heard from God via a dream. I've had quite a few myself.

It's been a while since I've had one of those dreams. In fact, it's been a while since I've had any dream at all, that I can remember, so I took notice.

In the dream, I was sitting and chatting with someone, when a dark-haired girl about nine or ten years old walked up to me. She was trembling just a little, and she looked intently right into my eyes.

In almost a whisper, she said forcefully, "Your days are numbered!"

I thought, "Oh wow, this person with me is hearing me get a prophetic word! I'd better explain."

So I turned to the person and said, "That sounds strange, to be told my days are numbered, but really, it means God has heard my prayers, because for a while now I've been praying for God to teach me to number my days."

(And that's true, I have been praying that, from Psalm 90, verse 12: "Teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.")

When I woke up, my first reaction was fear, because usually the phrase, "your days are numbered" has a bad connotation. But I reassured myself that in the dream it was a good thing.

Later I told Hubby about it, wondering out loud what it could mean. The girl was so intent, her eyes boring right into me, that it seemed like it must have significance.

Then, suddenly, I remembered another verse:

"In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed." (Psalm 139:16)

I began to cry. God has my life in his book. Each day is accounted for. Even when I feel like I have no dreams, or I'm trapped, or I'm failing.

That's exactly what I needed to hear.

You see, while life has been good this summer, and full of changes and excitement, when it all comes down, it's been about LovelyDaughter and HER dreams.

Of course, it's all part of my dreams, too, to see my daughter (and all the boys, too) well married and successfully living their lives.

But after next week, life will be back to MY life. No wedding, no honeymoon, no big plans to travel, or be missionaries, or move to another state, or...or anything. Because those are LovelyDaughter's and JD's dreams.

It's been fun to piggyback on their dreams this summer. It feels like life is going somewhere, even though, really, MY life is just staying right here, helping with tree work, supporting Hubby through his depression, doing dishes, cooking meals, trying to help GuitarGeek overcome his chronic fatigue, living with dirty socks and gross jokes and loud music, and other people's stuff everywhere.

But-- God just told me that my days are numbered. He's keeping track. And it's all adding up to a great book someday!

DISCLAIMER: I love my boys very much; even though I joke about "living in a boys dorm," the socks DO get washed, and the grossness only happens occasionally, and the stuff eventually gets picked up, and the music is not loud ALL the time. But some days it still adds up to feeling like my life is all about other people, and who am I?

It's WONDER-ful

I've been using the Book of Common Prayer, which uses its own translation of the Psalms. It's been interesting to me to see verses I've read all my life in the King James version come alive in a new way in a different translation. The slightly changed wording often gives me a fresh understanding.

A couple of examples:

Psalm 118:24
KJV "This is the day that the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

BCP "On this day the Lord has acted; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

If you read this verse in context, you find the psalm is talking about the "stone the builders rejected" that has become "the chief cornerstone," referring to Jesus Christ, and in the changed version I suddenly realize the verse can be applied to the day Christ rose from the dead. Just an interesting little twist, I think.

I also like to think about this verse when I'm praying. I know that when God answers my prayer, I will be able to say with the psalmist: "On this day the Lord has acted," and I will rejoice!

Psalm 4:3
KJV "But know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself: the Lord will hear when I call unto him."

BCP "Know that the Lord does wonders for the faithful: when I call upon the Lord, he will hear me."

I've always heard this verse used to show us that we belong to God, and he has set us apart, making us holy, which is cool.

But I love the picture the other version gives me: The Lord does WONDERS. For the faithful-- which can be ME!

It's Childishly Simple-- Or Is It?

From Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis:

"...Christ never meant that we were to remain children in intelligence: on the contrary, He told us to be not only "as harmless as doves," but also "as wise as serpents." He wants a child's heart, but a grown-up's head.

He wants us to be simple, single-minded, affectionate, and teachable, as good children are; but He also wants every bit of intelligence we have to be alert at its job, and in first class fighting trim."

I like that: a child's heart, but a grown-up's head.

Loving, forgiving, trusting; smart, confident, mature.

Being someone who knows to plan ahead, but also be spontaneous.

Knowing how to get along with others, without letting others negatively influence you.

Transparent and honest, but also tactful and wise.

Hmm. Good thing God promised us help with that.

Note To Self: ONE Thing At A Time

Okay, this is getting really old.

I'm still tired, and I still have a Large, Annoying Headache.

However, there are a few things I can be glad about.

One, on Friday when I felt a rising panic because my head hurt So Bad, LovelyDaughter took one look at me and rose to the occasion to help me. It felt so good to be mothered I almost cried.

Two, last night I asked Hubby to pray for me, and when he did, the agitation and anxiety I'd felt for over a week finally lifted, and I slept like a baby.

Three,... um, ... my breakfast of chocolate milk and toast was very satisfying.

On the negative side, I've been fighting with WORRY WORRY WORRY. It's better, now that Hubby prayed for me, but still.

That reminds me--

I read a little something by Steve Chandler recently. He insisted that much of our worry comes from trying to do too much.

Most people don't create great things in their day. They are too busy doing too many things at once. Most of the people I coach start each day with too many things to do.

I started coaching Renata by asking her how her life was. And she said too many things to get done and not enough time. That's a formula, I said, for a very miserable, frustrating life. She asked why and I said it was because she was trying to live in the future.

Like a fly bouncing against the window pane trying to get into the house. Did you ever see the horror film "The Fly?" That's how most people live. Buzzing and pounding against the glass trying to get into their own future. They think it's a better place. Peace and quiet and open air. Wait for them, somewhere.

But now? Now is a mess. Now is chaos. Now is a million things to do as Renata fumbles with her cell phone in her car not noticing the light had changed. She blew her mind out in a car! All from having too much to do. And not enough time to do it.

But true mastery (not to mention happiness) comes from not having too much to do. It comes from only having one thing to do. Just this one thing.

I think MY worry comes from WORRYING TOO MUCH.

It's not even that I personally have that much to do. I just find myself worrying about what EVERYONE ELSE is supposed to do. *SIGH*

So, I think my job today is to find ONE thing to worry about DO today, and concentrate on that.

Maybe After A Good Night's Sleep....

I'm so, so tired.

At worship team practice this evening, someone told me that when they prayed for me they saw a picture in their mind of a bouquet of dried flowers being restored to life and scent.

That feels like me alright. All my faith and courage and hope have dried up over the last couple of days, replaced by anxiety and stress.

I should be glad they saw the flowers being renewed and revived. But all I can think is how dried-up I feel.

I guess tonight I'm too tired to be glad.

A Balanced Life?

So what does it mean when some people think you aren't busy enough, and others think you're TOO busy?