No Compromise

Ever since I met my husband, he has raved about Keith Green. I didn't know much about him at all. He happened to have written a song I really liked, "There is a Redeemer", but that was about all I knew. Over the years, I've put together details to know a little more. I didn't really like him. His music is abrasive and his voice is annoying. He was an amazing pianist, but I just haven't been a big fan of his. But a couple weeks ago, I picked up his biography in the church library. I thought I should read it to know a little more, and I recently found out that they're making a movie about him, so i wanted to read the book first. [editor's note: having read it, I can see why my husband respects him so much. He's so similar!]

It was a really good read. I think everyone should read it (especially you, Scarlet because the beginning half reminded me a lot of you). He has a really amazing story. Starting with his childhood popularity and fame, stretching through his teen years of searching and seeking the "Truth", and then into his married life and the development of his ministry and music.

He set aside music for a while to see if it was what God wanted. In the meantime, he'd tell people about Jesus and pray with them to be saved, and if they needed a way out of what they were stuck in, he'd have them move in with him and Melody. He and his wife adopted an 11 year old girl when they'd been married a year. They eventually picked up songwriting and music again, and picked up a record label. He rose to popularity so fast, despite his controversial opinions about things. As his housing of new converts and seekers overtook the neighborhood, they became official, calling themselves "Last Days Ministries". As the ministry spread with more music, preaching and newsletters and literature, they decided to move to Texas, where you can still find them. Of course, if you hear anything about him, you know he died after 7 years in ministry in a plane crash. So the book talks about all that time.

I'm the same age he was when he died, and I have very little to show for it. He had so much. But that was his personality and his calling.

Now, coming from someone who's never been a big fan of the "Jesus Movement" (but whose parents were saved because of it), but who's facinated with history in general, this was really fun to read. I had so many challenging thoughts during all of it. Keith was a person who decided what was right and went with it all the way, hard core. He wasn't always right, and sometimes he had to correct himself, but he was honest.

It's made me think, looking at his life and the things he said, how much have I watered down what I believe to fit into the mold? WHere have I compromised my passion? What would a person like Keith Green think of my life, and what would that reflect about what God sees and thinks? The album art for his second album was really cool. It's a picture of Mordecai from the Bible, not bowing to Haman (and apparently I copied a bad quality version but I'm too lazy to change it).

I can't really explain everything I've thought while I've read the book, but it has endeared a person to me who I didn't like before, and reading it has caused me to think about what I'm sharing with others. How lost the world is, searching for their answers, but not finding them. And what responsibility I have, if I claim that I hold the truth in my heart, to share it. I'm not going to camp out listening to Keith Green albums any time soon, but I really enjoyed discovering the story behind his songs, and the way God used one man so profoundly.

Sweet river Roll

I listen to this song sometimes when I'm in the right melancholy mood. It's in my head tonight. I listened to it on repeat when I lost Grace. It's sort of depressing, but when I hear "Sweet River Roll" it's just like Jesus is there, and I know He rolls all over over. FYI, I am NOT a big waterdeep fan, but sometimes they pull off a good tune.


"Sweet River Roll" by Waterdeep
Homebound Henry's got a tumor in his head
He wakes up every morning after dreaming he was dead
He used to think that life was boring, but now that's not the case
He turns to his wife in the evening, he says "Honey I'm afraid I'm gonna lose this race."

Sweet River, roll all over me
Sweet River, roll all over me

Soaking wet Juliet- she lives in a well full of tears
Her husband left her for some bimbo after twenty-two years
Now she's got to start all over, but she's just so terrified
She thinks it woulda been so much easier if he woulda just died

And I'm lookin out my car window sittin' in the pouring rain
Although your house is fifteen miles away, I can still feel your pain
I've thought and prayed and worked it through about a hundred times or more
How your soul just cries to everyone to help you get up off the floor
Right now it's morning, you're probably totally unaware
of the flood of kisses you hold back by the way that you despair
It ain't me I'm talking about here, or anybody else you can touch
That's all I want to say right now, I don't want to say too much

except Sweet Jesus, roll all over me
Sweet Jesus, roll all over me...
You gotta come down and just set me free

Old Friends

When I was a new person in youth group, my brother and I decided to go on the welcome new freshmen canoe trip at the beginning of my sophomore year. While I stood in the lobby with other kids, amongst sleeping bags and tents and backpacks, waiting awkwardly for someone--anyone---to come talk to me, my brother disappeared with his friends.
Then came Rachel. She just walked over and said, "hi." I was relieved anyone was talking to me or standing with me. she was never great at making conversation, but we found enough to talk about. Her friends had all graduated so she told me she needed to meet new people. Perfect. She was a year older than I and went to a different school. But she became the friend I needed to be part of the youth group. We got along really well, and always sat together and sang on worship team and roomed together on trips. For the next two years, she was my real youth group friend. The other kids talked to me and we all got along, but Rachel was my mainstay. I always felt comfortable with her, even when neither of us had anything to say.
We had great times. And we lost touch as we went our seperate ways.
Tonight we met up again because she was in town (her folks still lvie here). We sat at chili's for two hours just talking and catching up. It was great. Because, when so many of the people I knew back in those days have changed and become completely different people, she hasn't. It was just like that first camping trip (where, insodently I got sick and threw up and had to go home early, but the thing with Rachel stuck nonetheless).
As I drove home, I wondered about what makes some friendships stick and be able to pick up even after yaers apart. And why some just go away. I think it's partly personality. And it's partly just true fellowship that comes from Christ. Rachel and I shared developing years together, and because our relationship with Christ was what we had in common at first, we could still connect these years later. Of course, a lot is personality too. I'm always open to meeting back up with old friends and catching up, and in fact I really like doing it. Not everyone does, and that's fine too. That's what we have facebook for, right?

The Way

A kid from our church died today. He had an asthma attack on Sunday and went into cardiac arrest. They put him on life support at the hospital, and we all prayed and prayed for three days. He was 16, and like I've said before, death is such a hard thing to grapple with. It's part of life, but it's still hard. Especially someone who had so much to still give to the world. So I wrote this, because that's how I process things like this.

The Way

and we prayed all night that you would change what events had set in motion
that you would stop the train
turn it around
because we knew you could.
But instead you chose your way, with thoughts that dwell in clouds beyond our understanding
the way of Wisdom that reaches beyond man's mind
the healing of hearts that hurts, the fatal cut
And it felt like you left us there
our requests laid bare before your throne, but you stayed far away
listening and waiting, with some kind of impeccable timing only you could explain
and you chose not to explain anyway.
We wondered if you were there, but you were all along
with your eyes that watch each sparrow fall
and count the hairs on our heads.
With a heart big enough to encompass all pain and questions and doubt
and a Way that brings life and healing
even in death.

To My Dad

A lot of girls grow up wondering if they're loved, if they're beautiful, if anyone cares about them. Wanting to be cherished and treasured, hoping to find someone who will treat them like a princess.
Well, I didn't. those were not questions that went through my mind. Because my dad was there for me. It wasn't that he told me all of the things I wanted to hear. I just knew. He didn't grow up in a relational family who talked about feelings, and I'm not the sort who spills life out on any blank canvas, so I guess Dad and I didn't always have a lot to talk about. But he was there. He was home for every supper. He played baseball and soccer with us and went on bike rides. He prayed with us at night and read us stories before bed. He came to concerts and ceremonies and took us on vacation.
He was there at night when I had bad dreams, after work and supper when we'd play in the yard, and every morning, when I got up, I found him downstairs, reading his Bible or finishing off breakfast.
He set an example of hard work and diligence and discipline.
And he loved me. He didn't always have time for me. I'm a typical overlooked middle child. But I never wondered if he loved me or even if he liked me. He just did.
I'm thankful that I inherited so much of his personality. I strive to live in wisdom and discernment, to dedicate my life to God and to work hard. I'm thankful that he is who he is now, a grandfather with time for his grand kids. A dad who serves his family still, even when they should all be grown ups.
In a world with so many hurts and battles, I'm glad I had a dad to walk with me through them. Because a lot of girls don't. And, even though he isn't perfect, he's perfect for me. And I love him with all my heart.

Bomb Shells

You know how it is when you're going about normal life and things seem really good, and then out of nowhere, a bomb hits? Like your dad calls you to tell you your grandma's in the hospital and it's not looking really great?
Then all of a sudden, life goes into slow motion and you have a hard time really focusing on anything else? The bomb just consumes your thoughts and energy?

So it's finally happening. I've known for years that my grandparents didn't have much time left, but... but I don't want that to be true. So I've been juggling worries and thoughts and anxiety and memories, wishing that life were easier to live, and death weren't part of it.

On Sunday our pastor preached from Daniel 10. After he had a vision, an angel came to explain it to him and he said, "I am overcome with anguish because of the vision, my lord, and I am helpless. ¹⁷ How can I, your servant, talk with you, my lord? My strength is gone and I can hardly breathe."
The pastor talked about how in our lives we experience things that put us in that position, and of course, GOd is present there. He gives us a way out. The angel's response to Daniel was that he strengthened him and said, "Do not be afraid O man, highly esteemed. Peace! Be strong now! Be very strong."

So there I am. I"m sure there will be more to say about this in the coming weeks. I'd appreciate prayer if you're the praying sort.

June 6, 1944

So few of us actually have a chance to be part of history. Witness it, sure. I'll always remember where I was when OJ's verdict came out, when Oklahoma City was bombed, and when the towers got attacked, when presidents were elected, etc. But to have been a part of it is something different.

Today is the anniversary of D-Day. It seems to be a forgotten day 66 years later. I remember the 50th anniversary. It was a big deal then. What happened on D-Day turned the war around and became the beginning of the end. When the troops invaded at Normandy, there was such a slim chance they would succeed. But they literally bit the bullet and tried anyway. I think God was on their side. I know God was on the side of so many soldiers.

You probably know I like to brag about my Grandfather, who got to be part of history that day. For years, he never talked about it with us grand kids. Lately he's started sharing details, and it's amazing. He shouldn't have made it. His friends on each side were shot to death. He was hit as well, close to his stomach, and he ran around on the beach for quite a while before he lost consciousness.

The thing about being part of history is that it usually involves something traumatic. Something that changes your life forever. For the folks sitting at home in the states, D-Day meant a well of hope. Hope that the long days and nights would soon end. Hope of seeing their loved ones again. They can tell you what they wore that day and what they did when the news came. As generations have come and gone since that day, it has become little more than a question on a history test. But the guys who were there, who witnessed death and evil and pain and terror, it was never a passing moment. They can close their eyes and relieve it. Their young lives were shaped by that single day, for better or for worse. I hope that I never become callused enough to believe those moments in history don't matter. Because the course of history changed, not only from a tactical standpoint, but from the heart of one soldier, who before the war had never seen outside of his Montana farm, who had a beautiful woman waiting at home for him, who went on to raise five kids and have 21 grand kids, some of whom followed his way in the army. The way his life changed that day could never be explained or spoken, but for whatever outcome we found, he became who he was. And he matters. It all matters to me.

Anniversary Countdown

We've been married nine years now, so I thought I'd put it in numbers:

9 times moving
8 Weddings we've been in
7 Trips to Montana and beyond
6 Years in our first house and living here.
5 Wonderful anniversary trips
4 Trips to the hospital, funerals
3 Babies, Guitars, Drives to California
2 Endless house projects, RV's, Times singing together at church
1 Faithful God, Wonderful life together.

Forth of July, 1995

Last night I started thinking about the summer coming up, and all of the great things that we can do in the warm weather. I thought about things I did as a kid, and my favorite thing was going to a lake and hanging out with friends swimming and being on the beach and riding boats. These were rare occurrences, actually, but always my favorite.

Got me thinking about one year when I was fourteen. In the thick of weirdness at my church, we had this group of friends. My parents did, that is. So, for the Forth of July we went out to one of their places. Out on a farm, with a lake and a big yard and lots of buildings. I didn't know the people very well. My sister was friends with the little daughter. I loved that place. It was beautiful. We had a great day, full of all of the things I loved. They had a pinball machine in one of the sheds that we could play, and of course, all of the lake stuff.

They had a son Calan too. He was a year older than me, tall and skinny with a sad smile and crooked teeth. He had an obsession with comic books. he was an artist. And he had a friend there that weekend so I hardly saw him most of the day. I knew him from church but hadn't hung out with him much. He was in this crowd of fringe people, who didn't put on the church face and try to impress everyone, who weren't popular at school, who were just themselves and let everyone see them for who they were. That weekend, at his house, seeing where he lived and the way he'd decorated his bedroom and the things he liked, I caught a glimpse of his soul. It sort of creeped me out. But he was a nice guy too. we talked a little that day, but I don't remember much about it.

After dark when the folks settled in to watch the fireworks from miles away in their lawn chairs, and my brothers went to light illegal fireworks, some how I ended up following Scott over into a pasture and up a fence and then up onto a rooftop, where we could see the fireworks just perfectly. I snagged my favorite shirt on a nail but I didn't really care. We just sat there and watched the fireworks, and I don't even know why. Maybe we were just two misfits finally connecting on some weird level. Maybe he was lonely like me and like having the company of the opposite sex. It would have been the perfect moment to say or do something romantic, but we just sat there together. And I'll remember it forever because I felt like myself and it had been such a good day and I was safe there.

About a year later, my friend called me to tell me Calan had hanged himself in his bedroom.

I don't know why it mattered so much to me. I didn't ever know him that well, and we left the church before Calan and I became good friends. I think we might have. Maybe that's what haunts me about it. Or maybe it was just that in a lot of ways, I was so much like him. Or maybe it was because it just wasn't right. Because he was a gentle spirit with good to offer the world, who struggled just like anyone else. Who bothered to talk to me. I think about that forth of July sometimes and wonder if things had been a little different, what could have happened with me and Scott after then. And when I get to heaven if he's there I'm gonna ask him what tormented his soul in that lesser world where we once lived where good and bad walked on a tight line, and simplicity and beauty held hands, and horrific and terrible intertwined with every day.

My Friend Mitch

Last night I went to see Mitch McVicker perform. I like him, not as much for his music as for his essence. He does a really cool concert using a loop box and all kinds of weird percussion pieces and household items. He talks like Rich Mullins, earthy and poetic all at once, with a new perspective on things you think about all the time. He sings songs that mean something.
If you've read my blog for a long time, you know I like him. I saw him the first time after Grace died, in March, and I bought the album "Love Will Rise". The title track kept me going. I listened to it almost every day, sometimes I'd just let it go on repeat. The world felt so dark and wrong, and the song comforted me and encouraged me to keep going.
He didn't sing it at the second concert I attended the following year, but I (using all the courage and guts I had) went and told him about it (because he's awesome and stays afterward to sign CD's and talk to people). He just smiled this humble smile and nodded his head. He seemed so honored to be used like that.
He sang it this time. And I, having healed so much since that first time i watched him sing it as a brand new song, smiled through it, lost in thoughts of pain and healing and God's mightiness and tenderness and love. For a minute I think Mitch looked out at me, maybe remembering what I'd told him last year. Maybe not. But he did look, and I smiled because God is so good to me.
I think that's the awesome thing about music. You can connect with people on so many different levels. It matters. And I liked what he said at this last concert about how the world doesn't need more Christian musicians. It just needs truth, so he's just trying to merge those. I think he does a good job. (And his link is on my blog if you feel like checking him out). Some day in heaven when we're all sitting around recounting God's hand in our lives, I'll point at Mitch and say thanks.

Weeds

I've been waging war in my yard against weeds. It's pretty much a hopeless cause, but I sort of enjoy pulling them up anyway. There's this satisfying thud sound when you actually yank out the roots. And this annoying rip sound when you don't get it.
We've got creeping charlie, which is about the worst yard weed I can imagine. It crawls around the grass and weaves a foundation in the dirt, suffocating the grass sprouts and eventually taking it all over.

As I was yanking strings of charlies out of the dirt, digging deeper to each level, I thought about weeds in our lives. How they grow underneath and you don't even see them until they've taken over. How sometimes they're big and ugly and take over the whole lawn, but sometimes they look like flowers. And sometimes they're easy to yank out by the roots, and sometimes it's nearly impossible.

They're kind of like the lies that take root in our hearts. Some lies are easy to find and pull out. Some sound good and make us look good, but they're still lies. Some of them are so deeply embedded in our personality and thinking that it's hard to even know where to start uprooting them.

So. I've thought about what lies have grown in my heart. I think we try to pull our weeds in a lot of different ways, but often those aren't pulling down to the roots. Sometimes I think I've pulled a whole weed out of my heart, only to discover it's growing up again, stronger and harder. I know this is vague but of course, weeds arent things people like to display for the whole world to know.

I sprayed parts of my lawn, and as I watch the charlie and clover and crabgrass wither away into brown nastiness, I consider God's word and how it works the same way on those lies in my heart, exposing them for what they are, dismantling them, and making the soil good for what's supposed to be growing.

My Life is Full of Interruptions

Grrrrr. I've been wanting to write so badly lately. I've gotten some good ideas for pieces of stories and plans for new ones, but nothing is coming together. The ones I was working on are stuck. Every last one of them. i need to write devotionals for the theatrical camp and I can't even do that.

Reading a good book makes me want to write even more. I just finished one that i liked and it made me really want to get back to the keys. But tonight I sat and typed two paragraphs before I was interrupted. If I have a good idea of where i'm going, I can slam stuff out with things going on around me and concentrate later when the house gets quiet. (Which seems to be never these days). But when I barely have the inspiration, then it takes all of the concentration I have, which isn't a lot. But now the distractions are full force. The attic project, preparing for a garage sale, theatrical camp, and playdates are taking up all of my free time. It comes in waves. But i apologize. I got nothing.

Mother's Day 2 years later.

This year May 9th was less painful than the previous two years. I think it will be that way with every passing year. And I'm glad, but at the same time, it makes me sad that Grace will become more and more of a memory and less and less of a reality. I missed her. Sitting there at church, realizing that today I could have had a little two year old in my arms while we sang "Blessed Be your Name". I cried a little bit during that song, and then I clung to Arlene.
Jayna was sick so Daniel stayed home with her.
My friend whose baby died the same year as Grace stood on stage for child dedications with her family. Her husband admitted the difficulty of it being his first time on stage since the funeral of their little baby. I cried then too.
Then I didn't cry the rest of the day. The sad part about the due date birthday being on Mother's Day was that I was really conflicted. Part of me wanted to tell everyone and remind them about that little girl I should have been holding. But the considerate part of me just wished everyone happy Mother's Day and got on with life. I'd hoped my church would take my recommendation to have memorial flowers available for mothers who had lost children. They didn't. My family didn't even mention it. But we had a nice time anyway. My sister came home for a few days so we hung out and had ice cream and pizza. Real Mother's Day-ish.
We went to the greenhouse with my mother-in-law and then stopped at the playground and visited for a while. It was nice.
They didn't remember. And I shouldn't expect anyone to. And what would they say even if they did?
One thing that has turned into a little blessing, though, is the friends who were pregnant at the same time as me. There were a LOT of babies born that spring. Two close friends had their due dates a week on either end of mine. They always remember, and I'm thankful. Because even if it's just one person, it matters. It matters that my baby isn't lost forever in the annuls of time and horrific events that everyone's glad they didn't have to experience. Because I love her, and I can't forget and I can't let go. It's all I have to hold on to.
Mother's Day will always be that way for me, I think. Joy and sorrow. Mingled there in my heart, both reminders of Grace. Both reminders of God's faithfulness and goodness and love.

Present Thoughts

i don't have anything remotely profound to write but I feel like updating so I'm just going to talk about random things that I've been living lately. Pick a category, any category!

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants I've lost a little baby fat over the last month. I'm not sure if it's just my body finally returning to normal after being pregnant for 3 years, or if it's medication or what, but it's kind of nice. Except that the clothes I've been wearing are starting to gap and bag. So I've been on the prowl for new jeans. Because I can't live without jeans. Any other form of pants, I can do without, but I am most comfortable in jeans. So. Consignment store, every department store, and back to consignment store. I finally found one pair of pants on sale at Sears that I liked, and two at Goodwill (after trying on at least a dozen pairs). I decided to be selective and not just pick any pair that fit over my thighs. I didn't want stretch ones, anything on the butt (especially jewels) too low or high cut, too loose around the waist, too tight around the ankles or anywhere else(thank you but I am not going to relive the eighties. I am not sixteen and don't want to pretend to be). The result were three pairs that I think will last. I'll keep my eye out, but the hard searching is done. I spent less than $40 total. Not bad, and they're all name brand.

Here comes the Bride (or groom) My cousin-in-law, Rachel, is engaged to a great guy from church, and they're going to be married in two weeks. I can't wait. Mostly because Arlene's a flower girl and Daniel's playing music and it's going to be a joyful family gathering. But also because Rachel is an example of a girl decided to follow God and wait for Him to bring her the right person instead of rushing in and taking the first thing that came along. And I like Jason a lot.

My own brother got engaged last month, but he's decided to wait for a year to get married. Mostly because his fiancee is from another country so there are a lot of details to work out. Also because our younger brother will be deployed to Afganistan for the next year and he wants him to be able to be present for the big life event.

My brother-in-law is also getting married in June. I love his fiancee. She's so awesome. I'm not sure that he's really worthy of her or mature enough to handle adult life, but I guess that's not my call to make (thankfully, because I'd probably screw things up).

Daniel's other cousin also got engaged a couple of weeks ago. To a girl I knew growing up, my mom's friend's daughter. It's kind of cool to hvae her back around and see how the families have changed. Anyway, i guess we'll have another big wedding year, after a couple years of no other weddings.

Simple Pleasures With summer approaching, I've been thinking about activities. I've thought about how busy people are in general driving kids to sports, dance classes, after school clubs, etc. And how families seem to have less and less time together. I don't want our family to be like that. So while I can control it, I think that we're going to forgo scheduled events that we can forgo. (Swimming lessons is a life skill and therefore a different category). I want to have time with my kids to teach them and mold them and help them and let them grow up at their own pace instead of rushing it.

In the same category, I've thought about all of the things we accumulate as we live life, and I've decided (yet again) to work harder at not accumulating them. To classify needs and wants in their true categories, and to avoid spending whenever possible. That's a big statement and probably worthy of its own post. But I won't give it one. I'm just going to make that a weekly prayer that I will discern wisely the difference between wants and needs. I've realized that my kids can't live happy and full lives with so little, that I don't need to set them up for failure by complicating things early on.

Apocalyptic Theories I think I mentioned I'm planning to read Revelation. well, I haven't gotten into it yet. But even though I haven't, I've had a few strange dreams where I've been telling people about Jesus returning or something like that. It's probably all of the economic talk that I don't really understand, and people planning for major downturns in the economy and emp's and nuclear warfare. And I think I won't say much about this lest I be label as a religious nut and/or conspiracy theorist and/or doom-seeker and/or something political. And I don't really want any of those stigmas. I'm not worried about the future, which is so nice.

Little Baby Bundles This really does belong in its own post. several friends have had babies lately or announced pregnancy. It sort of makes me want another one. But our house isn't big enough and our lives aren't settled enough, and I'm finally losing weight and other health issues are in play. So I won't. I'm not pregnant. If you see me bawling next week on Mother's Day, it's because it will probably always be a hard day for me, seeing as I was supposed to have a baby then. Please try not to say something stupid. I don't want to hate you. I'll probably have more to say on that soon.

The Green Thumb We've planted a garden this year. I decided it was a useful skill to hone, and would help us be more frugal and maybe even eat more vegitables. So I planted peas, corn, green beans, carrots and spinach. Daniel planted asparagus and a blueberry plant. He's already started growing grapes the last few years, but he transplanted them this year since someone put a garage in the sunlight's way. I also have a little flower garden that was here when we came. I've added gladiolus this year and they're popping up. I have a flower bed in the front we planted with memory of Grace flowers. Four of them made it this year, which made my heart so happy. I really suck at the "green thumb" thing, but practice makes perfect, right?

I guess that's all for now. I'm going to try to do other productive things. Ha ha.

The Bible that Falls Apart...

Ever heard that pithy saying? The Bible that falls apart belongs to the person who doesn't.
I haven't made that my life motto or anything, but my Bible has certainly fallen apart. Literally. I am very sad about this. But, this week I purchased a new NET Bible and have put it in the case and have slowly began my transition. It's a different translation than what I've used my whole life, and it's just... different. New Bibles have this great feeling. They smell like leather and book, and the thin pages crinkle with every fresh turn. The silver lining on the outside hasn't worn away yet, so it's shiny. I like it. But not as much as that old little Bible my parents gave me when I was ten. It was a birthday present, and through the years (eighteen freaking years!) it has accompanied me on retreats, conferences, weekend getaways, vacations, church services, pretty much everywhere. Which explains its wear.

It has been an instrument for change in my life, the words have been my solace and fortitude in hard times, my strength in the day-to-day, my hope and peace and joy. None of that will change, of course, but saying goodbye to it has been sort of difficult for me. Now I will have to search for those passages anew every time, instead of remembering which side of the page I read it on and having that advantage.

I taped a penny on the inside cover because I won it playing simon Says on a retreat, where the spaker was talking about not doing what everyone else does. I also have my name in Russian on a name tag from a missionary potluck when Cindy Howard first got ready to leave. It's held important ipctures, postcards, sayings, letters and sermon notes over the years. Opening its pages is like going thrugh a time capsual. The notes I took at age 12 seem so insigificant now, but they mattered then.

Change is good, though. I look forward to the next twenty years in the NET Bible, experiencing new ways of wording things and fidning more life scriptures. All of the underlining, highlights, notes in the margins and color coding will not transfer with me to the new Bible. Which gives me the goal to read through the whole thing again. I haven't done that since college. I think the new Bible is motivation for many new things.

But I'll still keep that old friend of mine handy. I can't get rid of it. It's like a keepsake, a record of my spiritual journey through my growing years. I'll always treasure it for those memories it keeps, and thank God for making His word available to me through that little Bible and so many other ways.

Reading List

In between Babar, Curious George, Nursery Rhymes and other picture books about squirrels and ducks and who knows what else, I've been picking away book by book. Slowly most of the time. I miss the time I had in college and when I was working to waste time reading all the time. It doesn't happen as much these days, but I have made it a small priority, so as not to let my brain get fried by cleaning up poop and singing the ABC's.

Light reading has been the "Peculiar Treasures" series by Robin Jones Gunn (who, if you know me, know that she is one of my favorites). It's chick-lit which might be all I need to say. It's a spin-off series about a girl in college named Katie Weldon and her experiences with life. Like I said, light reading.


I didn't used to like biographies much, but I've started to really enjoy them once in a while. I finished the journals of Lewis and Clark earlier this year (after about three years of being the toilet reader, mind you), so I replaced it with another collection of explorers' diaries (Mammoth Book of Explorers, edited by John Keay). So far, I've read about Georg Wilhelm Stellar, John Dundas Cochrane (who may actually be a relative of mine). He walked from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and made some interesting observations. I've read about several Central and South Asian explorers, Alexander Burns with the Uzbecks, John Wood, Regis-Evariste Huc, and a bunch of others you won't care to know. I'm currently on Sven Hedin at the Source of the Indus. They're good stories with insights abotu culture that you wouldn't expect.


The other biography I've read was entitled "Scars and Stilettos" by Harmony Dust. She was a stripper starting at age 19, and it's the story of how she landed in the sex industry and how she got out. It's a really good read, very descriptive and interesting. Even if you aren't interested in the stripping part, it's a good story about the life of a messed-up girl and how she was redeemed. She now has a ministry to strip clubs in the Los Angeles area called "Treasures". I don't recommend this book to a guy, but to a girl, especially one with baggage from life, I think it would offer a lot of encouragement, and maybe even enlightenment.

I also joined a new club recently. Tonight I finished my first John Grisham novel. My cousin recommended "The Testament", so I bought it at a used bookstore and picked my way through it. Now, I don't know what other Grisham novels are like, but let me just say, I wasn't impressed with the writing. The story was good, and kept me guessing the whole way through. Sometimes it gets a little tedious and long, but it was worth it. Although, Daniel listened to the abridged audio version, and I probably should have gone that route.

Another book recommended by a fellow sci-fi fan friend was "The Invention of Morel" by Adolfo Bioy Casares. Strange book. It was sort of interesting, but there isn't a good way to synopsize it. It's just weird. And I read it because of its association with the show LOST. It's short and reads fast, and it was really interesting. Didn't care for the ending, though.

In the Bible, I've been studying John (hence recent poetry). I've also decided I should read Revelation without the accompaniment of a commentary. Because I've never done that.

I don't have a big list queued up yet, so if anyone has recommendations, I'm happy to explore those options. I think it might be time for another classic.

What Creative Kids do with Spare Time

Prepare yourself for the most awesome thing yuo'll see all week:


Oh yeah. While most girls in junior high packed their caboodle case full of make-up, lotions and other cosmetics, mine was a split-level home for my awesome G.I Joe guy. (I did unpack him and load my case up for youth group trips like retreats and camp, but I don't know why because all I put inside were little containers of shampoo/conditioner and a hairbrush).

In fifth grade and probably sixth too, I didn't have a lot of friends, but I did have a lot of spare time and extra creativity, and a mom who let me do whatever I wanted with her sewing machine. So, I diligently pieced together a house for my G.I. Joe, affectionately named "Dumb Guy" (No idea why). I think his roommate's name was Jack. He came later. for a long time Joe lived alone.

I recently unearthed this favorite memory of mine. I spent a lot of time collecting the right objects for their house. Unfortunately, my stupid tenth grade English teacher obtained some of the objects I'd borrowed from Joe's house for a shadow box project (Jo March's attic).



Here they are showing off their "accessories". Notice a RC tank, a real (plastic) gun, backpacks, and extra rope. The old Bubble Tape container held their video tapes, books, and nintendo parts. (My dad also let me use his jigsaw to cut whatever I wanted). I used to have a TV I made with a piece of scrap wood and nails, but it's been misplaced. Joe broke his leg when I was older. He has a permanent bandage now. :(



Here they are chillin in their living room on their couch, wearing their backpacks. Because they're getting ready to go hiking. But first they needed to watch their favorite show.


It's really hard to make tiny clothes. And, GI Joes are way harder to dress than Barbie Dolls. FYI. All of these are remakes, because my of aforementioned theft from teacher. But you get the general idea. They're pajamas.

Now they're having a late-night chat in Joe's room. He likes to have his stuffed pig nearby. They're also sporting their well-designed and hand crafted flannel pajamas. Very comfortable.

The top layer was their bedrooms. There is a rope ladder in the "closet" hanging from the middle compartment. At one time they had a house guest who stuck around for a long time and that was his house. His name was Weird Troll (my neighbor Jesse's contribution).

Yeah. So.... Now you know my dark secrets. I had a lot of fun with these guys, too. Barbie Dolls were not nearly as exciting.

Making Friends Part Three (Being Grown-Up)

People walk in and out of our lives at an alarming rate. Once in a while, one of them is fun and ex citing and you can't wait to get to know them better, because you feel like you already know each other, somewhere deep in your heart. It happens less and less as I grow older. There's more space in our interactions, and less available time to invest.

Now that I'm adult, if I decide to invest and try to be friends, it means a lot to me. I don't have the kind of personality that just collects people with every smile and funny joke. It takes time and energy, and frankly, I don't always find it necessary. I'm pretty content here where I am.

I wish it weren't so much work. I wish that everyone related to me the same way I try to relate to them. So I wouldn't have to communicate. Or at least, that we had so much in common, it became easy to talk about everything. But it doesn't work like that. You have to be so intentional. You have to make phone calls and send emails even when they don't respond, because maybe they just aren't the sort who respond well. Maybe they're happy just seeing you once a year and talking on the phone (for the record, I HATE talking on the phone). You have to communicate intensely about your expectations and your goals. You have to forgive so often and let go of things that they did that didn't mean to hurt but they did.

You have to work to keep them, but still let them go. I don't know the balance that well. When i make a friend, I sort of just want them to stay with me and like me the best. But they usually don't, and they usually prefer someone else over me. It sucks.

But, I've learned, maybe not every person has to be the "best friend" you remember from high school. Maybe this one's here to help you with parenting, and this one knows how it feels when you aren't getting along with your husband, and one is so fun to go to concerts with, and one hangs out at your house and likes your family, and another one only sees you at church. I guess that's part of being a grown up too. Letting go of expectations and letting them be--letting it be what it is.

Making Friends Part Four (Truth in the Inner Parts)

There was a person in my life at one time (as an adult) who really wanted to be friends with me. I liked her a lot too. We talked and visited and got along pretty well. Until one night, she shared with me that she was jealous of me. She talked about why, and I told her she didn't need to be an explained why. I thought it had all been worked out that night and we moved on.

I didn't really understand jealousy, and how it creeps in when you don't want it to be there. How it undermines your trust and security. I didn't empathize with this friend. And I'm dense, so I really didn't know what was going on below the surface. We kept meeting up and visiting whenever she was in town. One time, we got together and talked for a long time, and I just decided to share. I knew how closed off I got, and I decided she was trustworthy and would be a good friend. So I talked and we talked and it was so nice.

The next time we were together, I realized that the jealousy she had still hadn't gone away. It was something someone else said to me, and I never confronted her about it. I planned to, but then it just didn't work out. The time never got right.

so because of that, I lost a lot of time. W e're still friends, and I think I finally shared what the deepest hurt was, how she hadn't trusted me even when I'd borne my soul to her. eventually we worked through it. I should have been more understand. Less jumpy and quick to judge.

I think, as I look back, our whole friendship was built on faulty premises. She didn't trust me, and because of that I didn't really trust her. I had a lot of bitterness for several years. (If you're asking why I didn't just dump her it was because she actually ended up being a relative and I thought it was worth keeping the relationship strong). And I wonder how many friendships through the years have been like that. Laid on top of sand, which crumbles and gives way to time and changes.

Because a real friendship, a heart relationship, starts with accepting each other and loving each other as we are. We can't do that if we're hiding our true selves. I do hide. It's easier than being vulnerable and letting someone have the chance to hurt me by rejecting me. If you build on anything but truth and honesty, the relationship will go one of two ways: you'll have to dig through some ugly dirt to uncover what it truly is, or you'll split in two and go seperate ways whenever circumstances or personalities or opinions change.

I think my big problem is just exposing my weakness. Not necessarily dumping every mistake I've ever made and sharing all of my intimate thoughts, but just exposing the fact that I struggle when something hard comes into my life.

Maybe what it comes down to is just being OK with weaknesses. I'm not, I don't think. sometimes I am, if it's a convenient one that I know everyone has. But I don't really like sharing my thoughts with others. And I think, sometimes, that practiced hardness locks God out too. It's not like He doesn't know. I just don't prefer to acknowledge my problems.

While I was working through this jealousy problem with that friend, I read Psalm 51. Verse 6 says, "You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part you will make me to know wisdom. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow."

I think, if I can have that attitude with God, it will become easier to have it with people. If I'm OK with my weaknesses and sin, because I know God's taken care of them, then I'll be OK with other people knowing them. rightness with God equals rightness with men. His perspective is what I should be living by, not the ones that others put on me.

Is the Brightness Still in Me

This is for Scarlet:
The lyrics of this song sort of responds to your comment, I think. About my faith and how it seems to weaken and grow at different places in life. IT's one of my favorite songs by Charlie Peacock, primarily because there's an awesome non-bluegrass banjo solo and I think that's cool.

I've always liked the depth and poetry in this guy's lyrics. I have no idea what kind of music you like (scar) but he's kind of jazz-influenced pop. I think there's a link on the side of my blog for his site.

Anyway!

Is the Brightness Still in Me
(Copyright 1999 Sparrow Music, written by Charlie Peacock)

The number of my days
The span of my ways
Too many to mention
too wide to hold
Written on my skin
Is the shape that I'm in
I know I'm not a young man
But neither am I old

Still I gotta wonder
Is the brightness still in me
Can I hold my own and sing a simple song
Oh I gotta wonder
Is the brightness still in me
as it was when I was young and first believed?

The light of God within
Forever grace given
To every sinner broken
Who dares to call God strong
Holy Spirit speak
when my light grows weak
Make me shine like Jesus
Fill me with His song

Chorus

And I think I've learned
to love the freedom of the boundary line
where freedom in the Spirit equals peace of mind
Still there are nights when I close my eyes
and wrestle with the powers of hell
There are just as many if not more good mornings
when I wake up laughing
and remember all is well

The Doubting Thomas

The day before Easter morning, I got to thinking about what the disciples might have been thinking, with Jesus' body still in the grave, everything up the in the air. I have no idea what they really did think, but I wrote this because I thought it might be applicable to my heart.

Doubting Thomas

So here we are, tonight,

waiting for news.

All of our dreams gone

No one to lead us

No new ambitions

No hope

The “savior”, succumbed to death

beaten and bruised

Laughed at, spit on,

Betrayed by our friend.

Laying in a cave somewhere

What’s the next step?

Now that we have been scattered

Lost our shepherd,

Wandering like lonely sheep.

Hiding behind closed doors

Praying to someone we thought we’d known

The Powerful One, the Almighty

Gone now , with a gasp of air

And had He whispered something then?

We sit like refugees

Waiting for the guards to take us

Waiting for word from that tomb

Faith shaken, heart pounding every moment

And none of us has slept in two days.

I remember He’d said this would happen

But I didn’t believe.

I never believed until later

And I don’t know if I can believe now.

I’ve never been so afraid

I’ve never known fear like this

Not just from the darkness and the earthquakes

And the walking dead

But the emptiness here in my soul

The doubt that pierces and screams and fights

What if everything He said was wrong?

What if I followed Him to my death

And His?

But I remember His words

The soft way he spoke

With quiet authority over it all

Every situation, every storm

Every question presented

And each moment

In which we saw nothing happening,

Where the Father watched and waited

Where we stared and contemplated

His words, so true

So hard to understand.

He said He’d raise again, and I remember

The prophesies from when I was young

The Messiah would live

And rule, and save us from oppression

But He always had something else on His mind

Healing sick people and teaching new things.

Where is the Healer now?

Locked behind a stone, guarded there

Like a prisoner, even in death.

and I don’t think He even said goodbye.

But those last words

I’ll always remember

He called me His friend

He said I wouldn’t be an orphan

He promised me a helper to be there

And to teach me

He talked about mansions and glory

And the Spirit of Truth

He told us to not be troubled

To trust in God, trust also in Him

and He prayed for our peace

I can hold on to that

At least for tonight

And when the morning comes,

When Peter and John go to check

I will know what kind of teacher He was.

I will believe His words for now

Even in the darkness

Because I have no where else to go

He possessed the words of life

He shared the Father with us

Like no one ever had

And for that, I will ever love Him

I will still follow to the death.

Because I think He’s the way to God

The truth in everything uncertain

And in Him we find life.

Making Friends Part Two (Along The Road)

i once heard someone on the radio talk about friendships in two categories: Friends of the road and friends of the heart. It speaks for itself. You have some friends you walk along side while you're on whatever path--school, work, motherhood, etc. You have other friends who you usually meet on that path, but there's more to it. You connect on a deeper level, and even if your paths seperate, you remain close.

I often think about that and wonder how so many of my friends who i thought were heart friends, ended up leaving me. My best friend in high school, Copper (identity veiled), was so incredible. We agreed on everything. We were weird. We liked the same things. We shared the same faith, or at least she said she did. We even had the same birthday. I thought we'd be friends forever. But, when she went to Georgia for school, we hardly talked. We'd chat online some, but slowly that faded. She was in my wedding (and I sorely regret not having her as a bridesmaid but that's another story), and after that, I just hardly saw her. I didn't realize she didn't want to be friends, so I kept writing her and giving her presents and things, and eventually I realized that she'd just decided to ignore me. So we aren't friends anymore, and she doesn't agree with my lifestyle or faith and beliefs and it breaks my heart. Because I wonder how stupid I was, how naive? Was she lying all along just so I'd like her? Why couldn't I see her for who she really was, or did she just simply change? I thought we were great friends, but I hardly knew her.

Same thing has happened with multiple people. And it drives me nuts. What is it about me that keeps people at arm's length? Why can't I just share my heart with them instead of only sharing my life?

As adults, it seems harder to find "friends of the heart". I guess because we don't have as many friends of the road, and we're too busy with other things to invest a lot of time. I've often thought I was coming upon a friend of the heart, only to discover that the feelings aren't mutual. those failures only push me further away from people and add another layer of bricks to my defensive wall.

When you take off your mask and tear away everything you do to look good, what's left is your heart. Laid bare. exposed to the arrows and rocks of "friends". Also exposed to healing salves and oils of forgiveness, beauty and love. Is it worth it? I haven't decided. I like it when I can get to that point with someone, but it takes a long time. And, with every friend who's left me walking alone on the side of the road, my defenses are harder to tear away. I haven't met a lot of people who find it worth their while to work through those either.

Which reminds me of a song. So I will post the lyrics, because I'm sure you're all so interested. It's a song Christine Dente wrote about her husband, paralleling God and His work in her life. I cried the first time I heard it.

Becoming

These are my sidewalks
They wound around the neighborhood
Always led me straight and safely home
But now they're uneven
'Cause roots move beneath them
And time won't leave well enough alone

And I had been trying to smooth these stones
Thought I could make my way alone

I tried the whimsical, gauzy pink dresses
That spin in the wind when you twirl
But somehow the princess gown
Never did fit this girl
So I fled the garden for the tower

And I had been hiding behind these stones
Thought I'd be well enough alone

Then you came nearer
You held the mirror
I saw myself there in your eyes

And I had been running
Still you pursued
I watched you move each heavy stone
The thorns around me tore your skin
But you kept coming through
'Cause you won't leave well enough alone

I am becoming what I once was
The girl in the mirror of your love
I am becoming
Your love becomes me

© 2002 Mighty Grey Music/Lil' Yella House Music/
Dayspring Music, LLC (BMI)

Making Friends Part One (The history)

When i was a kid, I met my best friend Stasia in kindergarten. We played at recess, we stayed at each others' houses on weekends and went out to eat with the other's family. She was an only child, I had two brothers. We had so little in common, and yet we just liked each other.
Turns out it's the same way today. We didn't talk a lot in middle school or the first half of high school, but we ended up going to college together. And, as we became adults, we had to reform our friendship. Rewrite it. Being friends as kids, you have all this common ground to stand on because you have the same classes, ride the same bus, and play the same games. As adults you live in your own houses and have big responsibilities to take care of. You choose different, grown-up hobbies which don't usually involve collecting rocks or watching the latest boy band.

I credit most of our friendship to the fact that Stasia didn't back away through the changes. When I got married, most of the friends I'd had from high school stopped calling and hanging around. I guess that dynamic changing caused them to be uneasy or awkward, even though it hadn't been before I was married, even with spouse along. I don't know what changed, because I haven't really lived the single life and seen it from their perspective. From mine, what I saw was I wasn't good enough to be their friend.

It sounds painful, but long before that, I'd closed myself off from getting hurt. Because, I was used to. I don't know when it started, but I've felt so alone so often. Starting in forth grade (when my evil teacher transferred all of my new friends out of my class) I just haven't quite fit in. No one was really mean to me. I wasn't the kid who was weird enough to get made fun of. Just weird enough to not fit in. So I spent most of my recess days making up stories in my head and trying to avoid being talked to. I made an art of not getting picked on. My brothers both were picked on, and I didn't want that, so I became invisible. It worked pretty well. People thought I was the shy girl, or would say that I was nice. "Nice" means not interesting enough to be friends with you, but not weird enough to be worth picking on.

Youth group was worse than school, really. Aside from Bethany, my true blue friend who has always been there for me, I was probably the only kid in my class who cared to learn about Jesus or anything the Bible said. And church kids are mean. They always were for some reason. I hung around the youth leaders a lot and babysat their kids.

I didn't mind being a misfit most of the time. Thankfully, I was part of a secure family unit who accepted me and loved me. I tried to stay out of their way and keep them out of my life as much as possible, but I think it was just protecting myself from being forced to make friends with anyone. Because friendship just didn't really work well for me.

The hardest blow was probably in seventh grade when I had this nice little group of frineds I hung out with. The one day, I don't know why, they decided not to like me anymore. And they went around the table and each said why they couldn't sit with me for lunch, and I never got to eat at their table or work in their project groups again. It ended up being me and this Mormon girl Sara (who actually ended up being really popular in high school) at a table with a couple other rejects.

Actually, right after that happened, I also had the classic teenage TV show problem that doesn't really happen to anyone. I was the only girl in the whole class who didn't get invited to a party. It didn't turn otu to be an accident like it does on TV, either. The girls throwing the party made sure I knew they'd invited "Everyone. Even Corey and Karen. Just not the losers." They looked right at me when they said that. Evil girls. i still don't know why they hated me like that.

When high school came, things actually got worse. My middle school combines with other middle schools to make high school, and I came from a small class. I didn't know anyone in most of my classes, save one guy from church who was actually pretty nice at school (didn't talk to me much at church before that). I did eventually meet some friends, and I'm even still friends with a cuople of them now. So it wasn't all bad. The worst blow was when we left the church we went to. The youth group there had been pretty terrible but i did have some friends, and I did have a place there. When we left, my close friend Adam got mad about it. we argued one day, and then he never talked to me again. For a few months, it seemed like I just didn't have anyone to be friends with.

stasia wasn't in my life. Bethany went to the church we'd just left and was laying low (she came around, though, and I'm so glad). I didn't know anyone at school very well. I didn't connect with anyone. Thank God for the internet because one great friend got me through. I've talked about Brian before though. Also, my older brother is pretty awesome and let me tag along when he did stuff with his friends, so I at least had stuff to do even if I was just a tag along.

This is turning into a pretty long post, which I didn't mean to have happen. I just wanted to lay the foundation for what I've been thinking about adult friendships. This obviously has nothing to do with adult friendships. I'll get there, promise. Not in this post.

Anyway, all of the history is just to share the loneliness. I suppose everyone feels like no one knows them at some point. And there were bright spots in my aloneness. There was Josh who played French horn with me and shared homework answers. He was alawys really nice to me. And Jonathan and Aaron in forth grade. But they played football at recess and I didn't like playing football. They drew pictures in class, and I liked that part. It's not like no one talked to me. and usually they even did so respectfully. They just didn't invite me out on weekends. But, because of the invisible thing and trying so hard to not get made fun of and protecting myself, I just built a giant wall around my heart to keep anyone from knowing me. I didn't want anyone to have any ammunition to hurt me with. Including my family. No one knew me, no one seemed to care enough to (except for Brian) and sadly, by the end of my freshman year, I was pretty satisfied to just have it stay that way.

To be continued.

Gadarean Monologue

I'm thinking about Easter, since it's just a couple of weeks away. Earlier today while my mind wandered, I thought about how Jesus' life on earth changed the status quo. How He could say just a few words and suddenly, life became a mystery again and the wonderful came into grasp. How many simple lives He changed forever, and how His choices ripple through mankind, even today, calling us, stirring up a longing for more.

Back in my days as a Younglife leader, we did a special thing for our Easter talk one year. All of us shared a monologue from the perspective of someone whose life was changed by Jesus. All of them pointed to different aspects of Jesus' character and life. I chose to talk about the man possessed by demons in the Gerasenes region. (Luke 8:23-39) (Mark 5:1-20)

I took a little creative license, but mostly it's taken right from that text. I wrote it with a spin to help relate to the teens in our group, but I thought I'd share it. Bear in mind it is copyrighted material and if you want to reproduce it you'd need my permission.

Gadarean Monologue

I’ll never forget the night Jesus came to the Gadarean tombs. I’d never seen him before, but the demons inside of me knew him well. Until he came, they controlled everything I did. All I could do was wander around up in the tombs and try to make it stop. People chased me out of the town because they were so afraid of what the demons would do. For a while, they’d lock me up with ropes, but pretty soon the demons made me strong enough to break them. Then they tried chains and I could break them too. They were stronger than me and stronger than anything I tried to do to stop them. I was delusional. So frustrated with everything I did. I wanted to change and be a good person. I wanted to live with my family and lead a normal life. But these demons…

They were stronger than me. Stronger than any other man.

Lately I’d taken to cutting at myself. I’m not sure why, but it made me feel better. I was just so guilty and tired and frustrated. Cutting made me feel human again. Cutting gave me control over the demons. For a while. But then I couldn’t stop. And I just stayed up in the tombs on the hills, crying. Screaming, hoping someone would save me. But knowing that there was no hope. No one short of God Himself could control the strength of the demons.

Until Jesus. There he was, coming across the lake. As soon as he got out of the boat, I ran to him. The demons tried to pull me away, but I ran. Then, they made it so I couldn’t talk and they started talking to Him. He was saying for them to leave me, but they fought inside of me, asking Him not to torture them, calling him the Son of God.

And he must have been the Son of God, because next thing I knew, the demons were gone. Well, not totally gone. They went into a herd of pigs. And now here I am, back to normal. No more crazy midnight screaming. No more running around in shame and anger. No more cutting. And I can’t stop thinking about Jesus. There was no one strong enough to stop those demons. There was no way to do it. And then there he was. And He did the impossible. With just a couple little words, they were gone. He saved me.