Net Flicks

Mixed Media Monday

We don't have cable. We haven't had cable since last summer. We didn't have a TV till our landlord gave us one. Apparently TV-free living makes us somehow pitiable. The free TV is a 13 incher. Chris plays his video games on it. We watch VHS movies on it. When not in use, I hide it with a small plant.

We were renting DVDs and watching them on Chris's laptop, but the selection at the video store was mighty slim. Actually it was heavy on popular movies, but we don't really want to pay to see steamy love scenes and gratituous violence (OK, I don't want to see violence). So we decided to check out Netflix. I heart Netflix. There are all sorts of movies I have never heard of available at Netflix. I have to share.

Luther was our most recent rental. I think we will buy Luther. The movie tells the story of Luther's role in re-vamping Christianity. He was such a tortured man, but I am so thankful that He stood on God's word and wouldn't compromise.

Saints and Soldiers was a World War II movie about a group of men with valuable information trapped behind enemy lines. We really liked it. (Based on historical events.)

David is a movie about a young boy who escapes from a communist concentration camp and tries to travel to Denmark. It is haunting as he is haunted by his memories. Chris thought it sounded kind of lame, but I think he liked it more than I did.

Not Netflix, but because Abigail can't stop talking about it.

Cars is an animated film about a race car who comes to realize life is more about others than himself. Though the tractor-tipping scene is scary, Abigail can't bring herself to stop talking about the movie. She is such a fan she received Lightning and Sally for Easter.

Goals

But the goal of our instruction
is love
from a pure heart
and a good conscience
and a sincere faith.
1 Timothy 1:5

Prayer

Before bed we pray. And as she becomes more and more herself, sometimes we have to stop to pray during the day. Actually I have to stop to pray during the day. God, please help me!

Abigail has picked this up. The other night after we all said "Amen," she realized she had some additions.

Tank God chickens.
Tank God bed.
Tank God mommy.

Last night on the way home from dinner, she got sick in the van. Pray, Mommy. (I interpret this as pray as play sounds very much the same. Praying for a sick stomach made more sense.)

Jesus. . .Jesus,
Please. . .Pwees
help. . .hewp
Abby. . .Abby
feel. . .feel
better. . .feel better.

And this afternoon before laying down for her nap, Pray, Mommy.

Jesus. . .Jesus
Thank. . .Tank
You. . .Oou
for. . .for
naps. . .naps.
Please. . .Pwees
help. . .hewp
Abby. . .Abby
sleep. . .sweep.
Amen. . .Amen

And now my own--

Jesus, please help Abby to learn that prayer is talking to you sincerely and not trying to get out of sleeping or riding in the car. Help me know when she is using prayer to get her way and when she is really wanting to pray. Help me to teach her about prayer.

Picture This

CSI: Who Lives Here?

It Is Finished

Yesterday the relocation company closed us out so we no longer own a house. Today is the closing for the seller so soon someone else with own a house.

I can't help but think about my green cabinets and all the events that transpired in that house. Today is bittersweet. A good day for rain.

Conspiracy

It is a beautiful day here in Uniontown. The sky is spring blue. The sun is bright. The air both warm and chilly, just right for the end of March.

But me, I am confronted with my own ugliness. Not outwardly, but inward ugliness. The fear and hatred (Yes, I used that word. I tried to find a more fitting for a believer word, but there wasn't one. And if I'm talking about my ugliness, I should be accurate.) stalk me today. Coloring everything in shades of dirty. Taking what is beautiful and yucking it up.

Chris is always up for a good conspiracy. YouTube is a wealth of good conspiracy. And if a conspiracy is to be deemed "good" there must be some truth to grasp. So this is what transpires on many a work day.

Sensus plays bad music.
Chris listens to YouTube while completing an engineering problem.
He comes home and tells me all he has heard on YouTube.

Sometimes he shares the better bits. I have listened to lectures on aliens. I have heard about the World Wars. I have laughed at the better pieces of humor.

Most recently, he has been listening to conspiracy. Global control of the US type stuff. The merging of the three North American States into one entity--goodbye Canada, Mexico, and US. All well and good. I don't mind listening to him. I actually like to hear about what he is learning. It is all very interesting.

But, if a conspiracy is to be deemed "good" there must be some truth to grasp, and there is. And if I read closely the Scriptures sometimes the conspiracy seems downright prophetic. Perhaps it is. Perhaps we are closer to the end than we all think. I know today we are closer than we were yesterday, but that just makes sense. I am not up for arguing all the opposing theories of the one world order and such. Typically I can just enjoy the conspiracy and go on, but with these latest bits of information, I am struggling.

Here is where I get hung up. I have been given this beautiful little girl who tries to sing Amazing Grace with me so she doesn't fall asleep, and I want to know she will be able to avoid the messy stuff at the end. I want to know I will be able to avoid the messy stuff at the end. I have semi-conscious dreams of the end times. I walk around with this sick feeling in my heart and in my gut wondering if we are as close as some of these theorists think, worrying about my family and friends desperate to know I will see them again.

Faith and courage seem in short supply today. Faith to trust that God is indeed who He says He is and that God will do what He says He will do. Faith to trust that when I don't understand what God is saying that His heart toward me is for my good. And courage to look at the future knowing that God is sovereign. Courage to know that whatever may come, His promises will stand. Faith that the courage will be given when needed and not till needed.

I stand with the desperate father, today, "Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief!" I stand with a heart willing to believe but finding itself in a place of fear and doubt. And not so much doubt for that is a word too strong, but an emptiness of faith. Not the opposite, but the absence.

With the father, today, "Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief!"

Bruder or Sisser

Yesterday we had our first home study meeting. Held at the Bethany offices in Pittsburgh, we dropped Abigail off with her Grammy for the afternoon and went on to the meeting. In two to three word phrases, Abigail expressed her understanding of the special date with Grammy.

Daddy car. . .black.
Mommy, Daddy meeting.
Bruder, sisser.

Earlier in the day she had a request: sisser, pwees.

The meeting went well. Our first home study and our social workers first home study. "Describe your mother. Describe your father." Sounds easy enough till you have to do it! We are excited. Our next meeting is April 7th and Abigail is invited.

Adoption Resources

Mixed Media Monday

Successful Adoption: a guide for Christian families by Natalie Nichols Gillespie--everything you wanted to know with extras that you didn't know you didn't know thrown in.

Secret Daughter: a mixed-race daughter and the mother who gave her away by June Cross--a memoir detailing June's experiences growing up in the US. It makes me pray extra hard for our adoption journey.

Adoption Blogs--a variety of parents and adoptees share their experiences of adoption.

Shaohannah's Hope--Steven Curtis Chapman's foundation for orphan care.

Picture This

"Papa Daddy"

Savior

When Abigail falls, really falls, I run to scoop her up. Examine her boo-boos. Give plenty of kisses. And send her on her way. Her falls and the injuries sustained in them have been mercifully minor. But my reaction is always the same, my stomach tightens, my muscles spring awake and into action. Forgetting what I was doing, I go without question to my little girl. I become willing to do anything at any cost to restore her to the girl she was before her fall. I want to save her.

But this world does not work that way. I am unable to save her, my comfort, care and encouragement must be enough. I am woefully inadequate at any of those. And while willing to do anything at any cost to restore her, I am incapable. She carries the scars of each fall.

How often I forget that I too am that little girl. That I too fall and in my falls, I too am injured. That when I fall and when I am injured, I too have someone forgetting His tasks to run to me. To examine my boo-boos. Give me plenty of kisses. And with encouragement send me on my way. He, too, is willing to do anything at any cost to restore me to the girl I was before my fall. He wants to save me.

And He is able!
He is able to save.
He is able to restore.
He is able to redeem.

Where I fall short and where I succeed, He is able.
Always able.

And so this Maundy Thursday, when I started re-reading the Passion, I am touched and reminded and encouraged that my falls touch His heart. Not as someone removed. Nor as one disappointed. Not as a coach disgusted. Nor a teacher frustrated. No my falls touch His heart because He created me. Because He loves me. Because He is my Father. He does not continue washing dishes when He hears me cry; He runs wet hands and all to save me.

It is easy for me to focus on the Garden. "Remove this cup. Not my will, but Thine be done." It is true that Christ asked that His burden be lifted. It is true that He resolved and resigned Himself to the Father's will. I forget in this battle between new man and old, that I am loved with a daddy's love. That God heard me crying and He came. That He wept over Jerusalem. That He died for my redemption and my restoration. Not just as an act of His will, a task to be checked off His to-do list, but as a cry of His heart as a fulfillment of His great love for me.

So today, I am going to curl up in His lap, asking for the kisses and cuddles and hugs that this girl needs before she is sent off encouraged on her way.

Praying

Tomorrow is the first day of spring. Oh happiness. I love spring. I want to celebrate but haven't a way yet. Maybe springy cupcakes. Decorate some and freeze the rest.

And the Easter weekend is coming up. I haven't talked about it with Abigail at all and I'm not sure how to talk with her about the death and resurrection of Christ.

The house sale is progressing. In fact they are moving the closing date into March. Yipee! But I am discontent and unsettled. I can't figure out what to do with the money. The money we are getting and the money we're saving. I want to spend it. I want to save it. I want the self-control to not eat out.

Oh Lord, today my heart is deceitful, turning me about in hundreds of ways. Ways I can neither see, nor hear, nor discern. Strengthen my will, Father.
Guide my hands to do your good work. Show me how to play with Abigail and how to include her in the day's chores.
Help me to guard and spend wisely the treasures you have entrusted to me. Teach me anew to give extravagantly of love, mercy, grace, gentleness, peace, kindness, patience, faithfulness, and self-control. Place your reins on my tongue.
Forgive me for raising my voice to Abigail in impatience and anger. Help me to faithfully teach her in all patience and love to conform to your will. Let me judge well my motives and methods. Show me when I am disciplining for eternal purposes and when I am just being expedient and selfish.
God, I want to be a good mom, but I have such a wicked nature and mothering just seems to bring it out. I want to touch and care for Abigail with the new nature free of sin you have given me, but the old is beating up the new! Protect her from my missteps and my sin. Strengthen and grow the new nature in me.
Give me wisdom, today.

Terrible Twos

Yesterday while we were out for a walk, a man also out for a walk commented on Abigail asking how old she was. Almost 2 and a half, I replied giving her a few more months than she had. Partly because I was tired and headachey and partly, I think, because I was hoping this stage was closer to over than it really is. (Ironically, during the pre-grown-up-bedtime-check-on-the-children ritual to ensure sound sleep, Chris and I lamented that our baby was growing faster than we liked.)

Anyway, the man replied the "terrible twos" and assured me that I was half way through. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Abigail's terrible twos started late and were sure to invade her threes. I was pretty pessimistic during that walk and the ensuing hours that followed. (I'm a sleeper married to and parenting non-sleepers. They can cope, nay thrive, on far less than I. It is my curse.)

When I allow myself to focus, I am over-joyed at this stage. Abigail is always moving, running, jumping, exploring, ready to go on the next adventure clothed or not. She squeals in delight over Daddy's arrival home, cookies, hot chocolate, and other simple things. She is always talking and she is quirky and funny and life through her eyes is always entertaining. Boy, does that girl ever process over and over and over again, the same conversations. She plays and draws. She is scared of the tractors in Cars and the cows at her grandparents. She loves her animals and takes them to bed with her. She beats up her stuffed animals during nap time accusing them of taking something that belongs to her. She picks the beans out of her soup and launches them into mine. She still talks about her friends in Michigan and is excited that her friends in Pennsylvania are coming to visit. When they arrive and she has to share her toys, she is less than enthused.

Oh, there is much at this stage that leaves me grasping for patience. Trips to Target, her favorite store, are now unwelcome. The answer to every question is "Noooo." She ignores imperative sentences preferring the consequences to compliance. (What, exactly do you do with that situation?) She ignores requests to play when I am not busy and demands my attention when elbow deep in dishwater.

But I wouldn't trade it or her for the world! I will just keep praying that both of us make it out of this stage intact without a visit to Dr. Phil.

Woman Power

Mixed Media Monday

Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas--he explores the real possibility that marriage is designed to make us more holy not necessarily happy. Raises some good questions.

Proverbs 31--this is one amazing woman.

Motivated Moms --chore planning system. I just started today, but anything that gives a time to cleaning out my microwave is worth a try!

A Good Woman's Love by New Grass Revival--Chris plays this for me and it makes me smile.

Picture This

For Noelle
(who just started commenting! Yay for me.)

Revisting Resolve

I woke up this morning tired before it started. With an achy back and a headache that required two ibuprofens before Chris left for work, I planted Abigail on the couch with me. She had Cars and I a blanket. A beautiful day, I didn't recognize right away the trigger for this particular headache. In fact I blamed it on the chance of precipitation for later today. Not likely as the headaches occur with the rain not with the chance of rain. But that was easy to believe.

We are dabbling in potty training. Dabbling because I seem to do more dabbing of puddles on the floor than dumping of puddles in the potty. Anyway with the dabbling came the crankies. Nothing was going well with my rather nervous toddler. And I wasn't managing well at all. The list of things I needed to get done was getting longer as the time passed and I was tired in every way possible.

I was suffocated by tasks that incomplete, by projects unfinished, by a toddler's demands unending, by the ten pounds the doctor requested lost, by the holly bush and the reminder, constant, that I am to be opening, growing in strength, flexing. The feeling was familiar anger and his partners paving their way into my heart--aggravation, impatience, frustration. Selfishness bothered by those things that impose on my plans and interfere with my life.

With Selfishness and his minions encamped on my heart, it is clogged, and stiff, shoving out the grace, love, gentleness, joy and selflessness. There is no room with Selfishness calling the shots for failure, no room for mistakes, no room for accidents. My identity becomes wrapped up in what I do, how Abigail behaves, where the crayons are currently residing, the whats and hows of existence. The people in my life replaced with their behavior and its reflection on me.

The back and headaches that accompany the anger distract me from my heart's formerly evicted resident, Selfishness, trashing the place. I strive to lessen the pain by making my life easier. Joy in routine and freedom in growth are deadened as I concentrate on tiredness, frustration, pain, and aggravation.

But today I find quiet space, give words to my condition, and look again at the holly bush. If I will allow, the plant's presence taunts me, reminding me of my resolve, and ultimately of the failure to carry out that resolve. If I listen, though, I can hear God whisper in the sight. As He did before. He reminds me of my resolve, yes, and with gentleness He defines resolve: not a destination, rather the first step on a journey.

Part of taking that first step was putting away the anger I was carrying with me. (Never picturing myself an angry person, there was a journey of conviction before believing that I needed to do that.) I had forgotten the admonition. I had allowed myself to dress in the dark. I picked that anger back up and I donned it like a comfy sweatshirt. I tried to return to my days in the tree, seeking shelter, and only what my faith offered me. I couldn't go back. I had stretched and grown, though I couldn't see it, but nothing fit quite as comfortably as I remembered.

I choose to believe the whispers of God. And resolving again to open up, to stretch, to serve, and love and glorify, to point heavenward so as to reflect the Son, I oust Selfishness and his marauders, and put away the anger. And that feels good.

Reasons for Rejoicing

Initially I wanted to post about the difficulties with having a 27 month old little girl to get ready to do anything other than what she wants. But as I was lying on the couch recovering from this morning's antics (which included hitting her head off of the floor--it's genetic), I could help but be reminded that this too is just a stage and be thankful that as we embark on this stage in Abigail's life God is moving in some the other stages in our lives. I figure that God would prefer me sharing His movements instead of harping on Abigail's moments. (Though they seem far more interesting, and I could definitely make them interesting.)

Earlier I had asked for prayer regarding an offer on our house in Michigan. Well, we are in the next steps of the house selling process. After what was an insulting offer and a small concession in our counter offer, we have reached an agreement! Our realtor is confident that things should proceed smoothly as this is a very clean offer--no contingencies, nothing odd.

So today we signed the relocation company's papers and will be mailing them back. Soon the home inspection will be complete and the loan will be approved and we will be waiting for closing (hopefully before the end of the month). I am so excited.

And if that wasn't exciting enough we have the first meeting for our home study scheduled for the end of this month. God is so good when real adoption money was to be required, He sold our house. Probably because He knew we would spend it on another house instead of the adoption as was our original plan. Anyway, He is good and we are thankful and prayerful.

From the Library

Mixed Media Monday

Well here it is . I want to know what to expect from some of my blogging days so I can be a little more intentional. So I am starting what shall be known from now on as "Mixed Media Monday"s where I can record what we have listened to, watched, or read. Only the interesting stuff, mind you. So here goes (as you might have guessed I am concentrating on the reading materials today.)

• Living Well on a Shoestring from Yankee Magazine--some interesting ways to cheap out on what you don't care about in order to spend where you want to.
• Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping by Judith Levine--she and her live-in boyfriend gave up all but the necessities (as defined by them) for a year and she turned it into a memoir. Don't agree with her politics or her religion, but she raises some good questions.
• Jimmy Lee Did It by Pat Cummings--Abigail's choice. A brother's imaginary friend torments his real sister. We enjoy it.
• A Good Night Walk by Elisha Cooper--Abigail's second choice (and my favorite). A family takes a walk before dark and describes what they see. The pictures are beautiful. (We will buy this one.)
• Boldly Live Where Others Won't: An Introduction to Urban Pioneering by Mark Harvey Smith--he explores the topic of retaking the inner cities and struggling small towns of America in order to "make a home, make some money, and make a difference." We bought this because we live in a "cutting edge" neighborhood and are wondering if God has a place for us here or if we are to go elsewhere. Interesting. I am glad we own it for the trip we are on.

So there you have it. The first installation. What did you think?

Giving My Heart Courage

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man; so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth and know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen

Ephesians 3:14-21

On Purpose

When I was younger and fancied myself disciplined enough to become an outstanding horsewoman, I read a magazine called Practical Horseman. I enjoyed most a recurring article called The Thinking Horseman the author would recount events in her life as a horsewoman. The articles were introspective, interesting, and humorous.

When I started this blog, it was to share our family's life with our extended family and a way of chronicling Abigail's life for all of us. Soon it became my way of working through all the things I was learning about myself as a woman, a wife, and a mother. The way all those things work together. I remember reading a book Elisabeth Elliot wrote to her daughter when she got married. I remember reading Passion and Purity as a teenager and I find my writing style to be a little like that.

Now that we are closer and Abigail's extended family can see more of her, I don't necessarily use this place as a chronicle of her life, but as a chronicle of my own because of her life. Perhaps the reason my family doesn't read as much any more, but that is another subject. And I think of the parents who write in their Bibles and present them to their children when they reach a certain age or the scrapbookers who create beautiful tomes of memories for their children.

So what is this blog because of abigail? After all some of you are visiting from the Ultimate Blog Party and have patiently waited for me to get to my point. (Not a very exciting introduction, but a pretty accurate portrayal of what happens here.) What is my goal? And some of you who have been reading this are probably tired of this question. (I have been mulling it over for quite some time.) I find myself desiring all of these things; introspection, exposure, and holiness.

I want my children to have a picture of their mother's journey through this life with all its identity crises and all the ways Christ reveals Himself to me through my interactions with the world. I want my daughter to know that she is dearly loved and valued when she finds herself struggling with all the issues womanhood, wifehood, and motherhood bring with them.

Along the way I hope to encourage and entertain others for I think we all find ourselves in these places, but ultimately because of abigail is for Abigail. I want to join the ranks of wives and mothers who allowed God to change their identity from one of singleness to one of community in the lives of those He entrusted to her. I love the picture of Abigail on my header so thoughtful as she licks the batter from the beater. I want the same joy of fully enjoying all the delicacies God has given me in such a way as to become more of who He created me to be.

Picture This

Waste Not

Just a Reminder

My friends Mindi and Kevin are going to be separated for ten months. Their three children growing and changing while he is away. He left yesterday. Kevin is going to Iraq. I must admit that I didn't think about the war in Iraq very much before I knew Kevin was going.

You see they are are friends in real life too. They came to Michigan on vacation and we had a great visit. Chris and Mindi and I were at WVU together while Kevin was in the military. They got married and then Chris and I got married. We all ended up in Columbus, IN as neighbors. Because God works that way. Mindi and I got horses and boarded them at the same place. Chris and Kevin built us an arena. Then we moved the horses to a new barn. We have history.

So now I think about Iraq via Mindi and her blog alot. And I pray about the war and the soldiers and their families through the lens of Mindi's heart and her camera. And sometimes, fewer than I like, I remember to thank her for giving this country her husband and her children's father for this time. I thank her for taking on this burden of loneliness, anxiety, and pain for our country. And I thank Kevin for his courage and his sacrifice, for leaving his heart here to go fight for another people's freedom. And as I thank them, I cry for them.

Gomer--Part 1

The weather here seems to have made a turn for the better, on some days, so the prostitutes have returned. Our landlord plans to resurrect the campaign to oust them from the "Avenue," our neighborhood, the streets coming off of said avenue.

No Ho Zone his signs read inspired by the Don Imus scandal of 2007. It is a creative campaign designed to draw attention to the problem of prostitution and to draw action from law enforcement. Apparently it worked last year with news vans coming from Pittsburgh, theft of such creative signage, and T-shirts at the high school. Oh, yeah, and fewer ladies of the night parading their wares on the Avenue. But it is a new year, a new spring, and the campaign has been forgotten.

There is something titillating in sin, some hidden forbidden excitement. I had never seen a prostitute before--not in real life anyway. I had never seen the dance of hooker and john before--not in real life anyway. Until now, that is.

My landlady and my husband exchanged knowing glances at the expense of my naivete when I interpreted a man in a SUV from before SUV was part of the American English vernacular picking up a woman as an innocent event in their lives. Obviously, I thought she was a wife or daughter or niece and this man was giving her a ride home. No, I was informed. He was a john and she a hooker. The event unplanned, clandestine, unsafe. Disgusting.

Gomer--Part 2

I was curious. How did they know what was happening? How exactly does one identify a lady of the night who incidentally doesn't appear only at night? Debauchery it seems is no respecter of time. A quick primer informed me and sooner rather than later, I successfully spotted one--my first identification without assistance--a prostitute. And, yes, my attitude was as if spotting an animal at the zoo or a bird in that prized holly bush of mine. (I'm not proud of that attitude, just recording it for posterity. When I get too full of myself, I can look back on this and be humbled.)

It was Sunday and my family had come for an afternoon visit. A nice day we decided to walk downtown to peruse the antique markets of Uniontown. Abigail was riding on her grandfather's shoulders delighted at the prospect of skipping her nap. There she was on the side walk, the same one we were on! We would be passing her. All of the sudden I was repulsed and intrigued like watching the tarantula at the pet store. I related to the ladies who came to the well early in the day to avoid the riff-raff. What do I do? Do I make eye contact? Do I say something? And if so, what does one say to a prostitute on Sunday afternoon? I hope she doesn't solicit my dad or Chris! Oh, Lord, please!?! I made sure to tell my mom who we were watching.

Just as we were about to pass her going opposite directions, she turned and went hurrying before us. Chris remarked that a car had just turned perhaps to circle back. Her blonde hair was cut short, mullet-style and worn close to her head. She had the mouth of one missing teeth. Her eyes were sad and tired. Her pants dated from the eighties tapered ruthlessly, a zipper at the ankles to allow her feet through. She hurried off after the car with an irregular gait--an injury or the discomfort of job-related stress or disease, I wondered.

The car she through had doubled back for her made a left. Instead of a right. Disappointment slowed her as she turned from the parking lot to return to her sidewalk pacing. Maybe we were the cause of her disappointment--the john didn't want witnesses. Then again, maybe he wasn't a john.

Gomer--Part 3

Somewhere, though, since then my heart broke for this woman. And I see her as a woman. Not her profession, not her title, not her scarlet letter but a woman. The excitement of catching a glimpse of "the sinner" has worn off and in her stead is burned the image of a tired, lonely, broken woman scarred by a life of disappointments. Yes her decisions brought her the Avenue, brought her to the vulnerability of prostitution, brought her to the humiliation of being paid for her body. But, I wonder, what informed her decisions--abuse, neglect, addiction, pain, desperation, anger, hatred.

And I'm met here with my own heart and my own decisions. I am met with questions demanding answers, demanding a look into the mirror opening the doors of my heart long closed.

Am I so very different from this one?
How often are my decisions informed by fear and pain?
How often do I find myself in sin because of those decisions?
I am a slave set free, a prisoner unbound, a student of the Truth, what are my excuses for my sin?

And the questions I asked myself that day as I neared this woman in my superiority return, yet in the humility of the mirror they take new meaning, becoming a prayer. What dio I do? Do I dare make eye contact? Do I dare speak to this woman?

Gomer--Part 4

Suddenly, as God is prone to do, I am plunged into the story. A woman comes to the well at mid-day alone, shunned. She comes carrying her sin, her title, her scarlet letter. She comes bearing her decisions and the experiences that informed those decisions. Her burden greater than the empty water jug she brings.

I wonder if Christ remembered Hosea and Gomer then when this woman came to the well. Did He remember the picture He created in the union of Hosea and Gomer? As Homer pursued Gomer, God pursued the nation of Israel. Did He think of this woman, Gomer, who so failed Hosea? Did He think of this nation, Israel, who so failed God and was soon going to crucify Him. I know He knew He was adding to that picture. As Homer pursued Gomer, God pursued the nation of Israel, Christ pursued this woman at the well.

And today, Christ is still pursuing. He is pursuing me knowing that I fail often and badly, my heart is fickle. Is is possible that He is calling me to the pursuit? Could it be that as Homer was called to pursue Gomer, we as Christ's beloved church are still called to pursue those women with pasts and presents rife with pain, disobedience, and sin?

I think back to the story of the woman at the well. I am in that story. Though I didn't wear my sin as openly as this one, I was met with the promise of living water. I have been redeemed. How much I want to claim that in my redemption I became even more like this woman--running telling her neighbors of this One who redeems, but that would be a lie. Often I find myself as I did Sunday joining the ladies who came early to the well, shunning those still trapped in the life God has graciously lifted me from.

How thankful I am that Christ continues pursuing me when I fail. How kind He is as He gently reminds me that somehow my being brought into perfection through His continual work in me must also touch this woman on the Avenue. Created in God's image, she is more than her title suggests.

News in the Housing Market

We got a call from our Realtor last night saying there is a couple interested making an offer on our house. They think the layout of the kitchen and downstairs bathroom isn't great and it is on a four-lane road so that will be taken into consideration when they make the offer. I must agree with the layout problems but if they can come up with a better way of doing it and keeping the bathroom go to it. And the location isn't as bad as all that when you can get to Target and the grocery store in 10 minutes. Weekly shopping in an hour--consider that. Do they not think all those things were taken into consideration when the price was established.

Sorry for the venting. Anyway please pray that they were able to see that our house was what they wanted last night when they were looking at comparable houses. And please pray that they make an offer. And please pray it is an offer we can feel good about. We really hate to negotiate. And please pray that the offer sees its way to completion and we don't own a house any longer. Please pray!

Got Me Thinking

That last post made me think about that testimony my life is going to be. Which made me think of this song The Poem of Your Life .



What songs speak to you in your quest to be more like that holly bush?

Playdate

After a night of dreams arming my trio of nemeses, Unworthiness, Inadequacy, and Rejection were sitting poised and ready on the edge of my consciousness all morning. Instead of standing confident to shimmer in the light of My Father my branches were weighted, heavy with the fears of my heart. Convinced this play date idea was a colossal mistake and that I should excuse myself from the commitment so this new person would not know how weird I really am and reject me for my neuroses, I pleaded with God to make me brave.

Thankful that my will was intact and I was going to go through with this, I clung to Ephesians 3. Reading Home Sanctuary I was encouraged by the verse for the month, 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and a sound mind." At times like when considering the relative temperature of Abigail's forehead against my hand and checking every few minutes, just in case, I may question the soundness of my mind, but what an encouragement that this was the verse for the month and that this was the post for today.

The time arrived for the friends to arrive and though they were a little late (yes, I checked the messages just in case I was rejected as weird before the play date even began) they arrived. We had a lovely and long time of play and talk. How long has it been since I've had a real meaningful face-to-face conversation with another woman who wasn't related to me!?! We didn't go to our separate gardens without making another date, next Tuesday at her house. We even confided in our utter lack of courage in doing this before today.

Chris came home and laughed as I told him about this date and the plans for another and the mutual insecurity of the two women meeting in his house this afternoon. He is glad I have friends and especially this one who is a believer, willing to confess her own nemeses. And I am so glad to have one of those friends here in this new place. Needless to say Insecurity, Unworthiness, and Rejection have taken their proper place under the Truth and I can face tomorrow's attack with a little more glory shining forth and a little less weight on those branches.

Maybe that is part of becoming like the holly bush--letting each day's weight ready you for the next day's show. Every day preparing my testimony to the height and depth, length and width of God's love to be given at the wedding feast.