Happy Halloween

An Elephant Goes Trick-or-Treating

Exactly Where Do You Want Me to Stand.

An Empty Bucket?

We're Off.

Rewards of My Labor

My Current Confusion

My friend, in real life, Michaelanne is living and working in Hunting Park, Philadelphia and she wrote an intriguing post about transformation. I can't stop thinking about it in light of our place in this neighborhood.

Chris and I talk about the neighborhood and our purpose here. Our families think about it. Why are we here? What is our purpose? How do we fit into God's plans in the life of this neighborhood? How are we to interact with the people in this neighborhood? "Err on the side of grace."I've heard. Yes, but without the knowledge of our own sin, how sweet can grace really be? So how do you talk about THAT without being judgemental?

And yesterday I was listening to the radio and heard a message about the Good Samaritan. It really had me thinking about this whole neighborhood thing. How am I to be a picture of Christ to those around me trapped by sin? That isn't to say I don't sin--believe me sometimes I don't even want to be in my head and heart. But by God's grace I am not trapped. I don't know how to separate the Grace of God from the Sin of Man; I actually don't think you can. And now we are back to the question: How do you talk about the sin of man without being judgemental?

Perhaps I am placing too much value on myself. What if I just did what I was led by the Holy Spirit to do every time I was led to do it? What if in following His leading, He was able to do the work of conviction and transformation? What if I truly allow myself to be the vessel instead of believing myself the transformer? What if I became transformed from vain to humble? And really what does that look like?

I Didn't See It Coming

At lunch

Me: (calmly) Abigail, why are you hiding turkey behind your back?

Me: (with more urgency) Abigail, why are you putting turkey in your pants?

My Soup: Plop. (picture said turkey landing in the Cheese Tortellini with Chicken Soup.)

Abigail smiles in the way that makes both dimples just peek till she is sure she isn't in trouble.

In Awe

There is currently playing an excruciating song on our local country station. The song is the last letter from a soldier, the one that his friends send to his wife if anything happens to him. I don't know what the name of the song is or even who sings it, but every time it plays I get goosebumps and my eyes well up with tears.

Perhaps because I am a wife, I can imagine reading it, and for a small moment put myself in the shoes of those wives who have received such news. I become so very thankful Chris is not in the military and am bitten by my own selfishness.

My friend Mindi is waiting to say good-bye to her husband who will leave for Iraq soon. I am so very thankful for Kevin who is putting himself in harm's way and for Mindi who does not hold too closely to those she loves, who will let go in a way I can't even imagine.

And, I want to say to all those staying behind--wives, mothers, fathers, children, husbands--thank-you. Thank you for the extra work you will do. Thank you for the faithfulness you exhibit. Thank you for the strength and the patience and the hope you demonstrate. Thank you for opening yourself up to the struggle and loneliness and possibility of loss.

I am in awe of the path you are walking and I am praying that God will prove Himself to you every moment.

Fabulous Fall Fashion

No matter how much thought I put into it, I couldn't outfit myself better. Hey, isn't there something about Solomon in his splendor not looking as good as the lilies?

Consonant Troubles

Yesterday at lunch in a mall resturant with mirrored panels.
Me: Abigail who's that little girl in the mirror.
Abigail: Agabell!
Me: (Hoping she can make the connection) What's your name?
Abigail: Agabell

Last night at our dinner table at dinnertime.
Me: Abigail, we need to pray first. Who do we talk to when we pray?
Abigail: Doug.
Me: Do you mean God?
Abigail nods affirmatively.
Me: Can you say, "God?"
Abigail: God.

Do you see it? Agabell prays to Doug! Hee Hee.

Note: She seems to have given up on talking to God and today said "Jesus." in response to the same question.

Camera Fun

We got a new digital camera! It does all sorts of interesting things. It arrived the day before Abigail was born. We have had this camera for almost two years and just recently I read part of the manual. I can take pictures in sepia and black and whit!. I can adjust aperature and shutter speed and ISO! I can change where the metering takes place! I am so excited. Of course, now I have to find my Idiot's Guide to Photography to refresh my memory on what all of those things do. It really is as if I got the camera yesterday!

The results:

Candles at our dining room table.

Sepia even makes a Target bag look good.

I Can't Help It

The rule sounds so very serious. And there are predictions of dire consequences if one disregards the rule. But sometimes I just can't help it. I break the rule.

The Rule:

Always put your children down before they fall asleep. Never rock your kids to sleep.

I don't often break the rule, but today there was something about sitting and singing and rocking that held me there. I think about how very independent she is, and I rejoice in it. I think about how quickly the time seems to have gone, though, and I sit a little long. I soak up the feeling of her youngness and her littleness and her need.

I wouldn't trade those rule-breaking moments for anything. I love the feel of her body getting heavier and cuddling into the warmth of being held. I love listening to her breathing relax. I love watching her eyes struggle for wakefulness the dark little lines formed by her eyelashes stay for longer and longer periods of time. Till it happens. She is asleep.

Perhaps on the way to her crib she will rouse enough for one last plea, "ssssong" mumbled into her blanket. Perhaps she won't.

Yes, I admit, I am a rule breaker. Wouldn't you be too?

Boiling a Frog

October 8th.

86 degrees.

I am ready for jeans and the cute pink cowboy boots I bought for Abigail on clearance after visiting them weekly at Target for months.

We had an extra long afternoon to spend together. (Extra long because between the plumber and the neighbor's dog Abigail woke up early from her nap.) How to fill the extra hour, hmmmm. I needed to hose down the artist canvas known as a driveway so we could be ready for another chalk session with the neighboring "keeds" tonight. Abigail helped as only a toddler can or will. She stationed herself so the water would hit her feet and legs before washing the chalk off. Thus making the task slightly more tedious. But she was having fun and was even more cute than normal. So I laughed, let her, and inched the spray ever closer to her trunk.

Then the inevitable happened, "Dink, dink. Momma, dink!" So the spray slowed down to a flow somewhere between trickle and meandering stream. Abigail assumed the position: mouth open as far as possible, neck, chest, and belly as far from the stream as possible, face in range and tilted just enough to catch the water. She filled her mouth only to release the water down the front of her shirt. Over and over again until the entirety of her front is dripping water and her pants have sagged like only wet denim shorts slightly large can.

Today, though, was different. I could spray her neck and her arms. I was invited to spray her belly button, "Button!" she would holler, and her armpits, and her neck. Then I tried her head and she allowed it! No screaming as if being poked by sharp objects. No crying as if watching her parents be carried away. Just giggles.

Perhaps, maybe, is it possible, can this happy hair wetting translate to bath time too? Could I possibly hope? Do I dare?

Cherry Crush

Revlon Cherry Crush.

I have always tried to shy away from the red spectrum of polish; purple was more my color.

I couldn't resist this week and finally, today, I actually polished away. I am delighted to feel ever so slightly sleazy in my new color. It makes me quite pleased with myself to look down and see freshly painted, slightly sleazy Cherry Crush smiling back at me. I almost giggle when I think of going to church tomorrow feeling naughty with such a color on my toes. There can't possibly be a downside.

Or could there. Is it possible that Cherry Crush highlights the practical nonexistence of my pinkie toe, my excuse for less than graceful movement? Could you really count only eight Cherry Crush nails and miss the two hiding in embarrassment of the stature of their toe-home? And what of the slope that seems to be occurring on most of the nails? There is no straightness here and no amount of filing fixes this problem.

Oh yes, yes, yes to all. My Cherry Crush highlights my pedicure inadequacies! Yet I will rejoice. I will go to church delighting in my Cherry Crush toes and smile when I imagine the scandal to follow.

Beautiful

Smarting Pride

Note: It has been brought to my attention that this particular post may cause some to believe that we are not happy with our move and even more frightening that I find myself better than my neighbors. To quote Paul, "May it never be."
I am exceedingly blessed to be in this place at this time. We are so much closer to family; we can visit in a day. People are working really hard to change the neighborhood and I am so excited to be a part of that. I've never lived in a place quite like this and I love the feeling of community that being here gives.
And on the second note. I have been so blessed by God who has protected and kept and saved me from sin that oftentimes I can forget that I am a grave sinner daily in need of God's grace and mercy to be poured out on my life. And isn't that an even more insidious sin--pride. It is so easily hidden from others and so easily justified.

A little over a week ago a man died on our street. He got a bad dose of drugs. Something to do with formaldehyde; I don't know if the stuff should have contained formaldehyde and had too much or if formaldehyde was supposed to be there at all. It doesn't matter; a man has died because he was trying to fill the empty spot in his soul with something other than God. (The irony cannot be escaped that at the same time the emptiness is longing for God it is denying His lordship. But that is for another day.)

It highlights one of my great struggles as we find ourselves here, on this street. I become as we take walks, or give our address identified with "those" people. You know, the sinners. From the outside one can't tell that I'm different, that I am a believer, that I don't smoke or drink or hook or take drugs or any of the other assumptions made about the people in this neighborhood.

And so I struggle. And God meets me there as He always does. And His word reminds me of the truth. I am indeed one of "those" people--a sinner. I fall short in so many areas; actually I fall short in every area of my life. I am a saint not because of my lack of sin but because of God's great grace; His determination to see Christ's blood covering me rather than my sin. I can say no to sin not because of my own strength of conviction or mighty will, but because He has made me new, given me His very spirit that I may overcome.

But why must I live here among the sin where I can see it? Why can't we live where sin is covered up with a thin veneer of good behaviour? You know, where people are addicted to pain killers not formaldehyde laced drugs.

And a still small voice speaks into my argument. "Remember Christ." Fully God, quite the definition of holy. He did not grasp at power or comfort, but rather humbled himself to fully identify with man even to the point of a criminal's death.

So, I am not sure of my purpose here, but I am sure that God's design puts us here. And there is hope in knowing that indeed He has a purpose, even if only to reveal my own hidden sin. (Why did I ever pray that!) I am at peace and I have fallen in love with those around me, a love that can only come from God. I am sure the struggle will continue for as long as we are here every time a child is yelled at cruelly by the adults in his or her life, every time the ambulance comes to take a minimally sick person to the emergency room. And I should hope that the struggle does that my spirit will always long for the time when sin will be banished. But I am reminded that my sufferings pale in the light of Christ and that these momentary struggles can not compare to the promises I have in Christ.