World Harvest has given me an assignment. I’m to write a paragraph describing what God is doing in my life, how he’s changing me – how he’s “overhauling” me, to be precise. I’m finding this assignment impossible. How in the world do you tell someone in one paragraph what God has done for you? What he’s still doing for you?
I’ve begun the assignment about 20 times. (OK, a bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit.) I think the problem is that I can’t decide which approach to take. It’s like a 747 is circling through the sky and can’t decide where to land, even though there are a dozen or so available runways below.
So instead of continuing to try to organize all my thoughts before I write, I’ve decided to just write – off the top of my head – and hope inspiration will come. (OK H.S., that’s your cue.)
Should I write about the distant past and its contrast to the present? (It’s a good story, I think – not because of me, but because of the faithfulness of God.) Or maybe I could explain the two scriptures that I think summarize my life (Jeremiah 2:13 and 1 Cor. 1: 26-31). Perhaps I should write about the threads God is weaving through my life right now (biblical truths that cut to the heart of my struggles).
Struggles. Maybe, as I’m sitting here, I’m recognizing that the only way to talk about how He’s changing me is to be real about how I struggle.
I struggle with self-absorption -- most notably, a need for approval and validation. All too often, I live believing my value is based on my performance: how well I educate my children, how much ministry I can pull off, whether or not people enjoy my company. I’m not only unbroken over my own sin, but frequently blind to it altogether. I struggle with envy, and anger, and fear. I struggle with all those things. And more.
God’s “overhaul” of me hasn’t been to miraculously remove the struggle, but to teach me, in the midst of it, to run to Him. To trust in the righteousness of Christ given over to me. To recognize these struggles as the present value of the blood of Christ for me.
World Harvest Staffer Meredith Elder, my friend and mentor, once told me that long permanent change is made up of many millions of little beliefs and repentances. God is overhauling me: by His grace, he’s teaching me to believe and repent. In the process, by way of the millions of little beliefs and repentances, I believe He’ll make me more like Jesus. That’s His job, not mine.
"They said therefore to Him, "What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?" Jesus answered and said to them, "This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent." John 6:28-29
A word or two
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Funny – for a writer, sometimes I’m a woman of very few words. There are encyclopedias worth of things I’m feeling, thinking, experiencing, but the words just don’t come.
This is one of those times.
So let me just say that the flesh is alive (though dying) and the enemy is devouring (yet defeated).
I am weary with my own lack of believing.
This is one of those times.
So let me just say that the flesh is alive (though dying) and the enemy is devouring (yet defeated).
I am weary with my own lack of believing.
Approved
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
On our first morning in Philadelphia, I wanted Steven to be able to sleep in, and the morning was a good opportunity to read some scripture and pray a bit. So I woke early (my new habit), went downstairs to our hotel lobby, bought a cup of Starbucks coffee, and found a relaxing place outside to sit for a while. The weather was mild, and the scenery (against the backdrop of the Delaware River) was peaceful. I relaxingly polished off about half my coffee and as much of the muffin, pondering all the while about the events to come. Then I picked up my Bible, hoping to find scripture that would offer encouragement for the days to come, and guidance in how to pray.
I had recently memorized a verse in Isaiah 30, and found my mind continually going to that place, so I decided to start at the beginnning of the chapter and read my way through it. What I didn't know is that Isaiah 30 is written as a message to the Israelites, who are attempting to flee to Egypt in the face of impending attack by the Assyrians.
Here are some key passages in my part of this story:
verses 1-2"'Ah, stubborn children,' declares the Lord, 'who carry out a plan, but not mine, and who make an alliance, but not of my Spirit, that they may add sin to sin; who set out to go down to Egypt, without asking for my direction, to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt!' ...
verses 8-11"And now, go, write it before them on a tablet and inscribe it in a book, that it may be for the time to come as a witness forever. For they are a rebellious people, lying chilren, children unwilling to hear the instruction of the Lord; who say to the seers, "Do not see," and to the prophets, "Do not prophesy to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusions, leave the way, turn aside from the path, let us hear no more about the Holy One of Israel. ...
verses 19b-21a"He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it ...
verses 30-33
"And the Lord will cause his majestic voice to be heard and the descending blow of his arm to be seen, in furious anger and a flame of devouring fire, with a cloudburst and storm and hailstones. The Assyrians will be terror-stricken at the voice of the Lord, when he strikes with his rod. And every stroke of the appointed staff that the Lord lays on them will be to the sound of tambourines and lyres. Battling with brandished arm, he will fight them. For a burning place has long been prepared; indeed, for the king it is made ready, its pyre made deep and wide, with fire and wood in abundance; the breath of the Lord, like a stream of sulfur, kindles it."
As I read these parts of the Israelites story, God used them in a powerful way to lead me in how to pray.
First (based on verses 1-2) ... that we wouldn't try to carry out a plan that wasn't his plan, and that we wouldn't try to make an alliance that wasn't his alliance. That we wouldn't set out to "go down to Egypt" (even if Egypt, for us, was Ireland) without seeking his direction.
Second (based on verses 8-11) ... that we would be willing to hear the instruction of the Lord, even if that meant a second rejection. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, I prayed that the "seers" (translation, assessors) would see what they needed to see in us, both strengths and weaknesses, and that we wouldn't go wanting them to "speak to us smooth things" or "prophesy illusion."
Third (based on verses 19b-21a) ... that we would "hear the word" of our Teacher: "This is the way, walk in it."
And finally, I thanked God for the promise, illustrated in verses 30-33, that he powerfully prepares the way.
Later, as Steven and I waited for Meredith Elder to collect us from the train stop, we had time to discuss and wonder at the way God met with me that morning.
Today, days later, we walked into a room and were issued an invitation to join World Harvest Mission. And we marvel at the full assurance he has given us as we've heard his word: "Go."
I had recently memorized a verse in Isaiah 30, and found my mind continually going to that place, so I decided to start at the beginnning of the chapter and read my way through it. What I didn't know is that Isaiah 30 is written as a message to the Israelites, who are attempting to flee to Egypt in the face of impending attack by the Assyrians.
Here are some key passages in my part of this story:
verses 1-2"'Ah, stubborn children,' declares the Lord, 'who carry out a plan, but not mine, and who make an alliance, but not of my Spirit, that they may add sin to sin; who set out to go down to Egypt, without asking for my direction, to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt!' ...
verses 8-11"And now, go, write it before them on a tablet and inscribe it in a book, that it may be for the time to come as a witness forever. For they are a rebellious people, lying chilren, children unwilling to hear the instruction of the Lord; who say to the seers, "Do not see," and to the prophets, "Do not prophesy to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusions, leave the way, turn aside from the path, let us hear no more about the Holy One of Israel. ...
verses 19b-21a"He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it ...
verses 30-33
"And the Lord will cause his majestic voice to be heard and the descending blow of his arm to be seen, in furious anger and a flame of devouring fire, with a cloudburst and storm and hailstones. The Assyrians will be terror-stricken at the voice of the Lord, when he strikes with his rod. And every stroke of the appointed staff that the Lord lays on them will be to the sound of tambourines and lyres. Battling with brandished arm, he will fight them. For a burning place has long been prepared; indeed, for the king it is made ready, its pyre made deep and wide, with fire and wood in abundance; the breath of the Lord, like a stream of sulfur, kindles it."
As I read these parts of the Israelites story, God used them in a powerful way to lead me in how to pray.
First (based on verses 1-2) ... that we wouldn't try to carry out a plan that wasn't his plan, and that we wouldn't try to make an alliance that wasn't his alliance. That we wouldn't set out to "go down to Egypt" (even if Egypt, for us, was Ireland) without seeking his direction.
Second (based on verses 8-11) ... that we would be willing to hear the instruction of the Lord, even if that meant a second rejection. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, I prayed that the "seers" (translation, assessors) would see what they needed to see in us, both strengths and weaknesses, and that we wouldn't go wanting them to "speak to us smooth things" or "prophesy illusion."
Third (based on verses 19b-21a) ... that we would "hear the word" of our Teacher: "This is the way, walk in it."
And finally, I thanked God for the promise, illustrated in verses 30-33, that he powerfully prepares the way.
Later, as Steven and I waited for Meredith Elder to collect us from the train stop, we had time to discuss and wonder at the way God met with me that morning.
Today, days later, we walked into a room and were issued an invitation to join World Harvest Mission. And we marvel at the full assurance he has given us as we've heard his word: "Go."
Update
Monday, June 02, 2008
It's 5 p.m., and we don't have to leave the World Harvest offices to go to dinner for another hour, so I thought I tried to give a brief update on the blog.
We arrived late saturday, after an hour delay at the airport due to weather in the Philly area. Found our lovely, price-lined, four-star hotel easily, then walked to the nearby historic district for a late dinner. Found a little corner restaurant where we ate Italian food al frescoe.
Yesterday, we rode the loop bus through town to the Museum of Art. Can you say "Impressive"? Seriously, my heart was beating wildly as we walked into one of the HUNDREDS of galleries, and saw multiple Renoirs! Many, many, many Van Goghs (sunflowers), Cezannes (amazing), Degas (dancers), Monets, Manets, Picassos (three musicians), Chagalls, Rubens, Mondrians, Legers, Gaugains, Munchs -- you get the, uh, picture! I LOVED it! We were exhausted, but had to catch our bus back to the hotel, where we collected our luggage and then caught the train to meet our World Harvest contact.
Last night, we met many of the WHM staff and all of the candidates. It was a good dinner, and each candidate/candidate couple got to share their story.
Today, we have had multiple meetings and group/team building exercises; they've been fun.
Tonight, dinner at a staff member's house.
Please pray on our behalf tomorrow -- we'll be in interviews all day long.
Must go now -- I'm on a borrowed computer.
Toddles, then, til later,
Laura
We arrived late saturday, after an hour delay at the airport due to weather in the Philly area. Found our lovely, price-lined, four-star hotel easily, then walked to the nearby historic district for a late dinner. Found a little corner restaurant where we ate Italian food al frescoe.
Yesterday, we rode the loop bus through town to the Museum of Art. Can you say "Impressive"? Seriously, my heart was beating wildly as we walked into one of the HUNDREDS of galleries, and saw multiple Renoirs! Many, many, many Van Goghs (sunflowers), Cezannes (amazing), Degas (dancers), Monets, Manets, Picassos (three musicians), Chagalls, Rubens, Mondrians, Legers, Gaugains, Munchs -- you get the, uh, picture! I LOVED it! We were exhausted, but had to catch our bus back to the hotel, where we collected our luggage and then caught the train to meet our World Harvest contact.
Last night, we met many of the WHM staff and all of the candidates. It was a good dinner, and each candidate/candidate couple got to share their story.
Today, we have had multiple meetings and group/team building exercises; they've been fun.
Tonight, dinner at a staff member's house.
Please pray on our behalf tomorrow -- we'll be in interviews all day long.
Must go now -- I'm on a borrowed computer.
Toddles, then, til later,
Laura
Morgan Journey
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Today we leave for Philadelphia and World Harvest Assessment and Orientation (A&O). Thanks for praying for us! And you can check out our Morgan Journey blog (www.Morganjourney.blogspot.com) for updates.
"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord, "plans for welfare and not for calamity, to bring you a future and a hope." Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord, "plans for welfare and not for calamity, to bring you a future and a hope." Jeremiah 29:11
Dreams
Friday, May 23, 2008
Last night I had a dream. It was a heart-wrenching dream -- one of those dreams in which your deepest fear comes true, and you awaken in panic, fully believing the thing has happened. Pulse racing. Mind swirling. Heart breaking.
Dreams. What do we make of them?
In biblical times, they were nothing less than prophetic. Through dreams, God foretold (among other things) times of plenty and famine, the outcome of wars, the madness of one king and the birth of another. Joseph, Gideon, Daniel, Solomon, Joseph (husband of Mary) – all dreamers (and/or interpreters) of significant Biblical dreams.
But what are we to make of dreams now?
Crissy Sharp has a theory. She says dreams are compilations of all the incomplete thoughts of our day. A plausible possibility –ideas, situations, people rolling around in our sub-conscience, left to germinate and grow into a thought-life of their own.
Last night’s dream was set in a foreign city. (No surprise there.) It began with a trip to the dream-version home of a very real friend whom I haven’t seen in over a year. Robin’s daughter graduated from high school yesterday, and I thought about her all day long. The last time I visited Robin, her husband had just completed a basement expansion of their home.
In my dream, Robin gives us a tour of the dream-version renovations. There's a reason for the tour – perhaps a place to stay while living in this foreign place – but before I learn what it was, my dream jumps to another scene.
Our family is in the city – again, the foreign city, one with a feel of Czechoslavakia, or Lithuania, or some other Eastern European location. We’re standing, conversing, agreeing to go separate ways – to divide and conquer: Steven and AJ together, the other kids with me. After the allotted amount of time, we’ll meet up again at the subway.
Cut to the subway (which isn’t a subway actually, but some sort of subway/bus system hybrid). The kids and I are there, Steven and AJ aren’t. I’m pondering what to do; Emma’s suggesting we move along, and let Steven and AJ catch up with us. I’m wanting to wait; Emma’s insisting we go ahead.
In my dream, I relent, and we pay our fare. The kids board, and I haggle with the attendant over whether I have time to check once more for my husband and son. “Go,” she says, so I do. Back to the lobby; no Steven and AJ. Down the escalator and back onto the street; no Steven and AJ. Frantically, I run back to the attendant, who tells me the bus/train-thing (hereafter referred to as the “brain”) has already left.
There I am, in a foreign city, with three kids alone on public transportation, and a husband and son nowhere to be found. So I board the brain, take a seat, and notice, incidentally, that a smiling (unknown) Jenny Bartz is seated across from me.
My mind is racing. Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ? Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ? Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ?
I pick up my cell phone to call Emma, but before I can dial her number, my phone rings. I answer, and hear a familiar, but anxious, voice on the other end. It’s Charlotte (Cooper), and she tells me that Vicki is listening in on another phone. (Vicki is Jackie Cooper’s sister, with whom I have no connection, but who, by the way, spent many years as a missionary in Romania.)
“Laura,” Charlotte says, “I have bad news.”
Pause.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Pause.
“Laura, Steven was killed.”
At which point, I begin to wail. And then I awaken, roused from sleep by my own real-life wailing.
And in my state of semi-consciousness, somewhere between dreaming and fully waking, my pulse literally races, and my mind literally swirls (“AJ. AJ. Where is AJ?”), and my heart literally breaks.
I snuggle up to Steven, and reality gradually takes hold.
Dreams. What do we make of them?
Sherry Burnett, my friend and walking buddy, believes God communicates with us through our dreams. I’m inclined to agree.
Does that mean I think God is telling me not to go to Ireland? Do I think he’s warning me of some tragedy to come? Absolutely not.
But I do believe the Holy Spirit, in that mysterious way of His, uses our conscience, and even our sub-conscience, to reveal things to us about ourselves. Our fears. Our blessings. Our expectations. And, yes, the things we put our hope in other than Jesus.
Ken Gire, author of Windows of the Soul, writes about dreams: “In the Old Testament, when God spoke to Joseph through a dream, He used images that were familiar to him, images of the field where he and his brothers had worked. When He spoke in a dream to the king’s cupbearer in prison, He used an image of grapes. When He spoke to the king’s baker, He used an image of bread. Because all of these images were so familiar to the recipients, each sensed God was speaking to him directly.
“God spoke to those people then and speaks to us now in the language most familiar to us. I’m not talking about our native language, with all its regional dialects and colloquialisms. I’m talking about the language of our heart. And not the human heart in general, but each individual heart, with its own intensely personal images.”
One time, I dreamed that Jesus was holding my hand. I woke up believing and feeling as if he was really in the room with me. Was he actually “holding my hand?” Probably not. But the image was one which resonated with me, one of love and comfort, absolutely consistent with the character of God to His children.
Dreams. I don’t entirely know what to make of them. But today, I’m repenting of my fears. And I’m looking forward with faith to A&O next week. And I’m thanking God for a living, breathing husband.
Dreams. What do we make of them?
In biblical times, they were nothing less than prophetic. Through dreams, God foretold (among other things) times of plenty and famine, the outcome of wars, the madness of one king and the birth of another. Joseph, Gideon, Daniel, Solomon, Joseph (husband of Mary) – all dreamers (and/or interpreters) of significant Biblical dreams.
But what are we to make of dreams now?
Crissy Sharp has a theory. She says dreams are compilations of all the incomplete thoughts of our day. A plausible possibility –ideas, situations, people rolling around in our sub-conscience, left to germinate and grow into a thought-life of their own.
Last night’s dream was set in a foreign city. (No surprise there.) It began with a trip to the dream-version home of a very real friend whom I haven’t seen in over a year. Robin’s daughter graduated from high school yesterday, and I thought about her all day long. The last time I visited Robin, her husband had just completed a basement expansion of their home.
In my dream, Robin gives us a tour of the dream-version renovations. There's a reason for the tour – perhaps a place to stay while living in this foreign place – but before I learn what it was, my dream jumps to another scene.
Our family is in the city – again, the foreign city, one with a feel of Czechoslavakia, or Lithuania, or some other Eastern European location. We’re standing, conversing, agreeing to go separate ways – to divide and conquer: Steven and AJ together, the other kids with me. After the allotted amount of time, we’ll meet up again at the subway.
Cut to the subway (which isn’t a subway actually, but some sort of subway/bus system hybrid). The kids and I are there, Steven and AJ aren’t. I’m pondering what to do; Emma’s suggesting we move along, and let Steven and AJ catch up with us. I’m wanting to wait; Emma’s insisting we go ahead.
In my dream, I relent, and we pay our fare. The kids board, and I haggle with the attendant over whether I have time to check once more for my husband and son. “Go,” she says, so I do. Back to the lobby; no Steven and AJ. Down the escalator and back onto the street; no Steven and AJ. Frantically, I run back to the attendant, who tells me the bus/train-thing (hereafter referred to as the “brain”) has already left.
There I am, in a foreign city, with three kids alone on public transportation, and a husband and son nowhere to be found. So I board the brain, take a seat, and notice, incidentally, that a smiling (unknown) Jenny Bartz is seated across from me.
My mind is racing. Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ? Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ? Are the kids ok? Where are Steven and AJ?
I pick up my cell phone to call Emma, but before I can dial her number, my phone rings. I answer, and hear a familiar, but anxious, voice on the other end. It’s Charlotte (Cooper), and she tells me that Vicki is listening in on another phone. (Vicki is Jackie Cooper’s sister, with whom I have no connection, but who, by the way, spent many years as a missionary in Romania.)
“Laura,” Charlotte says, “I have bad news.”
Pause.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Pause.
“Laura, Steven was killed.”
At which point, I begin to wail. And then I awaken, roused from sleep by my own real-life wailing.
And in my state of semi-consciousness, somewhere between dreaming and fully waking, my pulse literally races, and my mind literally swirls (“AJ. AJ. Where is AJ?”), and my heart literally breaks.
I snuggle up to Steven, and reality gradually takes hold.
Dreams. What do we make of them?
Sherry Burnett, my friend and walking buddy, believes God communicates with us through our dreams. I’m inclined to agree.
Does that mean I think God is telling me not to go to Ireland? Do I think he’s warning me of some tragedy to come? Absolutely not.
But I do believe the Holy Spirit, in that mysterious way of His, uses our conscience, and even our sub-conscience, to reveal things to us about ourselves. Our fears. Our blessings. Our expectations. And, yes, the things we put our hope in other than Jesus.
Ken Gire, author of Windows of the Soul, writes about dreams: “In the Old Testament, when God spoke to Joseph through a dream, He used images that were familiar to him, images of the field where he and his brothers had worked. When He spoke in a dream to the king’s cupbearer in prison, He used an image of grapes. When He spoke to the king’s baker, He used an image of bread. Because all of these images were so familiar to the recipients, each sensed God was speaking to him directly.
“God spoke to those people then and speaks to us now in the language most familiar to us. I’m not talking about our native language, with all its regional dialects and colloquialisms. I’m talking about the language of our heart. And not the human heart in general, but each individual heart, with its own intensely personal images.”
One time, I dreamed that Jesus was holding my hand. I woke up believing and feeling as if he was really in the room with me. Was he actually “holding my hand?” Probably not. But the image was one which resonated with me, one of love and comfort, absolutely consistent with the character of God to His children.
Dreams. I don’t entirely know what to make of them. But today, I’m repenting of my fears. And I’m looking forward with faith to A&O next week. And I’m thanking God for a living, breathing husband.
A night in the life of a little-leaguer ...
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Eli Morgan. Cool dude. Funny guy. Winning little-league pitcher.
After years of playing outfield and second base, Eli this year began to practice pitching with his dad in the backyard. Every few days, I'd notice the two of them -- Eli working up that pitching stance; Steven squatting, ready for the fastball. Eli, foot in position, pivoting, lifting the leg, arm back, arm moving forward, releasing. Growing rapidly, changing drastically, getting stronger; the fastball burns. And every so often, a change-up added to the mix to shake things up a bit.
Left field is his position. Nine times out of ten, you'll find him there. But he has this love affair with the idea of pitching, and several times this season his coaches have let him pitch when his team appeared to have a win pretty-much secured.
Tonight was a different story. Eli's team, down 10-4 at the bottom of the third inning, prepared to take to the field for the start of inning four. I noticed Eli run onto the field, but not to his usual position. To the pitcher's mound, instead. The team was down, and Eli's coaches put him in to pitch.
Excitement (and much nail-biting -- from all the parents, not just me) ensued. In the next two innings, Eli walked one (maybe two) and gave up only 2 runs. His team rallied back, hit the ball, stole bases, ran-down the opponent, and beat the Oakland Athletics 13-12. And Eli, as pitcher, officially "got the win."
A 12-year-old outfielder's dream come true.
After years of playing outfield and second base, Eli this year began to practice pitching with his dad in the backyard. Every few days, I'd notice the two of them -- Eli working up that pitching stance; Steven squatting, ready for the fastball. Eli, foot in position, pivoting, lifting the leg, arm back, arm moving forward, releasing. Growing rapidly, changing drastically, getting stronger; the fastball burns. And every so often, a change-up added to the mix to shake things up a bit.
Left field is his position. Nine times out of ten, you'll find him there. But he has this love affair with the idea of pitching, and several times this season his coaches have let him pitch when his team appeared to have a win pretty-much secured.
Tonight was a different story. Eli's team, down 10-4 at the bottom of the third inning, prepared to take to the field for the start of inning four. I noticed Eli run onto the field, but not to his usual position. To the pitcher's mound, instead. The team was down, and Eli's coaches put him in to pitch.
Excitement (and much nail-biting -- from all the parents, not just me) ensued. In the next two innings, Eli walked one (maybe two) and gave up only 2 runs. His team rallied back, hit the ball, stole bases, ran-down the opponent, and beat the Oakland Athletics 13-12. And Eli, as pitcher, officially "got the win."
A 12-year-old outfielder's dream come true.
Blossoms
Thursday, May 01, 2008
The Morgans love to garden, and right now we're seeing the blossoms of our labor. G-Love is the perennial man; I like container gardening the best.
Enjoy the lovelies ...
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Next step: vegetable garden
Enjoy the lovelies ...
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Next step: vegetable garden
Yard sale, anyone?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Oh, yeah. Been planning a yard sale (gotta pay for CORE classes) for months now, and just found out that the Twin Lakes association has planned our annual neighborhood yard sale extravaganza for this Saturday (rain date, next Saturday). Here's my official invite to bring your junk, hang out with me on Saturday, and make a little extra cash. (I'll be working to get things together in the afternoons this week after SATs, so you can come hang out for doing that too, if you want.) Takers, anyone?
Favorite photos from Ireland
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
OK, since I finally took a minute (which is literally about how long it took) to check out how to post photos, I'm hooked. (If I hadn't been so intimidated by the idea and knew how easy it is, I'd have done this long ago!) Anyway, I can't resist posting some of my favorites from Ireland. So ... for those who haven't seen them, hope you enjoy. And for those who have -- well, thanks for humoring me, and I promise to post something new very soon.
I'm an aunt again
Monday, April 07, 2008
This is my new baby nephew, Cayden, born April 1 in Houston. He was five weeks early, but after only 30 minutes in ICU, he went to my sister Sissy (Christy) and roomed-in with her for the rest of their hospital stay. Isn't he a cutie!
laborers needed
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Yea! G-Love, who knows everything about paint but doesn't like to paint, has finally given me the thumbs up to gather a group of friends and paint the bedroom myself. (The terra cotta walls with my lovely brown and blue comforter is just not workin' for me.) So, when the stomach virus is gone from our house and I have the paint in hand, do I have any takers? Anyone willing to paint with a friend?
The Singer
Friday, March 28, 2008
Years ago, I heard about a book called "The Singer" -- a poetic narrative that mirrors the events of the Gospels. While we were in Ireland, my new friend (and kindred spirit), Karen, had this book and its two sequels (which I didn't know existed) on her shelf. She lent them to me, and I've just completed the first. Oh, is it good! It's the kind of book you can read over and over again and gain new insights every time -- there's just no way you can "get" all the metaphors, symbollism, imagery, etc. the first time -- or maybe ever.
Anyway, I want to share a couple of my favorite passages, but first I have to set-up the scenario for you. The book opens with the awakening of the troubadour -- the "Singer" -- who is told by the "Earthmaker"/"Father-Spirit" to "Sing My ancient Star-Song to the World." The Singer sings to many who hear -- his mother, a crippled child, a woman-for-hire, a madman. He sings, as well, to many who don't hear -- including the Keepers of the Ancient Ways (to them, God is just an old habit).
Well, I guess you get the idea. So here's a short excerpt, and a long one:
passage 1
"The self of every singer of the song must die to know its music?"
"They all must die, and ever does the self die hard. It screams and begs in pity not to go. Nor can it bear to let the Father-Spirit own the soul."
passage 2
"Listen to me," called the Madman to the crowd.
"I hung upon the wall until this very hour. When the moon was full I roamed in wild unholy grottoes of my mind. See these wrists," he said pulling back his sleeves.
The marks and scars of chafing steel were obvious to all.
"The manacles of iron did this. I could kill and would have many times except for the great chains which held me. I cried within the grove and wished to die. I tore at every band and tried to set my own brutality toward freedom, but never did the chains give way until today."
"Stop," cried a voice within the crowd. "You are still mad," the voice continued as the World Hater came out of the crowd. "Listen to me, Madman," he said pulling out the silver pipe.
Beads of perspiration appeared upon the Madman's brow. Fear tore at him -- could he stand the melody that formerly had driven him insane? The weird progression of shrieking notes began.
But the Madman's tension soon began to ease. In the frustration of his losing, the Hater played more loudly than before.
Soon the Madman was entirely at peace. He exulted in the confidence of total sanity. "It's no use Hater, the Troubadour has come."
The crowd has grown to several hundred people and the Madman called out over them. "This man's pipe wiped out all my sanity until today. I learned a new song from the Singer for whom the world so long has waited. Listen to the Song of Life."
I love these passages because they speak to the very real battle of flesh vs. Spirit. I want to die to self; I LONG to die to self. But the more I long for it, the more I'm aware of how self-focused I am. "Ever does the self die hard." And then my longing can so easily turn to frustration, or discouragement, or self-condemnation. "I [roam] in wild, unholy grottoes of my mind."
In times like these, I know I'm listening to the ugly, shrieking lie-song of the Hater. And for a while (like the madman), I believe him. But only for a while. Because just as the sweat of frustration, discouragement and self-condemnation begins to collect on my brow, the Singer breaks through. I'm His. I belong to Him. And the lie-song of the Hater can't survive against the Singer's Song of Life.
Anyway, I want to share a couple of my favorite passages, but first I have to set-up the scenario for you. The book opens with the awakening of the troubadour -- the "Singer" -- who is told by the "Earthmaker"/"Father-Spirit" to "Sing My ancient Star-Song to the World." The Singer sings to many who hear -- his mother, a crippled child, a woman-for-hire, a madman. He sings, as well, to many who don't hear -- including the Keepers of the Ancient Ways (to them, God is just an old habit).
Well, I guess you get the idea. So here's a short excerpt, and a long one:
passage 1
"The self of every singer of the song must die to know its music?"
"They all must die, and ever does the self die hard. It screams and begs in pity not to go. Nor can it bear to let the Father-Spirit own the soul."
passage 2
"Listen to me," called the Madman to the crowd.
"I hung upon the wall until this very hour. When the moon was full I roamed in wild unholy grottoes of my mind. See these wrists," he said pulling back his sleeves.
The marks and scars of chafing steel were obvious to all.
"The manacles of iron did this. I could kill and would have many times except for the great chains which held me. I cried within the grove and wished to die. I tore at every band and tried to set my own brutality toward freedom, but never did the chains give way until today."
"Stop," cried a voice within the crowd. "You are still mad," the voice continued as the World Hater came out of the crowd. "Listen to me, Madman," he said pulling out the silver pipe.
Beads of perspiration appeared upon the Madman's brow. Fear tore at him -- could he stand the melody that formerly had driven him insane? The weird progression of shrieking notes began.
But the Madman's tension soon began to ease. In the frustration of his losing, the Hater played more loudly than before.
Soon the Madman was entirely at peace. He exulted in the confidence of total sanity. "It's no use Hater, the Troubadour has come."
The crowd has grown to several hundred people and the Madman called out over them. "This man's pipe wiped out all my sanity until today. I learned a new song from the Singer for whom the world so long has waited. Listen to the Song of Life."
I love these passages because they speak to the very real battle of flesh vs. Spirit. I want to die to self; I LONG to die to self. But the more I long for it, the more I'm aware of how self-focused I am. "Ever does the self die hard." And then my longing can so easily turn to frustration, or discouragement, or self-condemnation. "I [roam] in wild, unholy grottoes of my mind."
In times like these, I know I'm listening to the ugly, shrieking lie-song of the Hater. And for a while (like the madman), I believe him. But only for a while. Because just as the sweat of frustration, discouragement and self-condemnation begins to collect on my brow, the Singer breaks through. I'm His. I belong to Him. And the lie-song of the Hater can't survive against the Singer's Song of Life.
What I learned in Ireland ...
Thursday, March 06, 2008
(Not an all-inclusive list -- just off the top of my head.)
The grass truly is greener on the other side (of the ocean, that is).
When you drive sitting on the right side of the car, you have to shift gears with your left hand.
Lamb with mint sauce tastes really good.
Black pudding, made with pig blood, is nothing like you'd imagine.
The world is smaller than I thought.
The world is bigger than I thought.
A $15 haircut is REALLY cheap.
Red Mountain Music and Over the Rhine have already made their way into hearts in Ireland.
It's no small thing to get to sit next to your husband on a plane.
With the right longjohns, jacket and gloves, even heat-lovers can survive (and be happy).
When you tell three incredibly bright, gospel-centered young women you don't think there's anything you could share with them about the gospel that they don't already know, you're forgetting that we all forget the gospel, we all have to be reminded of the gospel, and God uses weak vessels.
Praying with your eyes open is only awkward the first few times.
Not all rain needs umbrellas.
An open door is an open door, no matter how you look at it.
The grass truly is greener on the other side (of the ocean, that is).
When you drive sitting on the right side of the car, you have to shift gears with your left hand.
Lamb with mint sauce tastes really good.
Black pudding, made with pig blood, is nothing like you'd imagine.
The world is smaller than I thought.
The world is bigger than I thought.
A $15 haircut is REALLY cheap.
Red Mountain Music and Over the Rhine have already made their way into hearts in Ireland.
It's no small thing to get to sit next to your husband on a plane.
With the right longjohns, jacket and gloves, even heat-lovers can survive (and be happy).
When you tell three incredibly bright, gospel-centered young women you don't think there's anything you could share with them about the gospel that they don't already know, you're forgetting that we all forget the gospel, we all have to be reminded of the gospel, and God uses weak vessels.
Praying with your eyes open is only awkward the first few times.
Not all rain needs umbrellas.
An open door is an open door, no matter how you look at it.
Back from Wexford ...
Monday, February 25, 2008
It's Monday evening, and, no, we're not home in Moody. (That was an error -- my days are somewhat confused.)
The prayer trip to Wexford with the MAP team and its apprentices was really good. Stayed in a little cottage that was a nice walk from the sea. (Took pictures of the beach, kids -- unlike other beaches, it was sprinkled with large, smooth stones instead of shells.)
It was good to spend time with the apprentices -- three girls (two Beckas and Carmel) who are all just out of college and amazingly committed to the gospel.
A highlight of the trip was dinner with an Irish pastor and his wife (Mic and Bernie -- probably not spelling that correctly). Their story of coming to faith 25 years ago was moving, exciting, unusual. Now, he pastors a church of about 50 which is seeking to plant another church in a neighboring community. We worshipped at his church on Sunday, and met believers from New Zealand, Ireland, South Africa. Steven especially appreciated the sermon -- thought it was very good. (Apparently, Mic loves to listen to Keller sermons.) After church and lunch, we walked around the city in groups of two or three and prayed for the city -- anything that came to mind as we walked, eyes opened, as if we were just talking to one another. It was special and powerful. (This is something the MAP team is committed to doing several times a year for the churches it partners with and their communities.
Today, we took a great trip through the countryside back to our little town of Dalkey. We catch a bus in the morning for the airport.
I've really spent most of the time in these posts giving a run-down about what we're doing. Not really a whole lot about our reaction to it all. But two things for now:
1. The prayers that we would be able to come free to be ourselves and not feeling pressure to perform or meet expectations have been answered in a big way. Conversations have been good and open. The nature of our visit, on top of all the cultural differences and newness of everything, could have been very stressful. But, actually, in the midst of heavy conversations and deep soul-searching, it has been surprisingly stress-free.
2. There's no way anyone could come away from this experience without being changed.
A little Irish lingo
lorry -- truck
biscuits -- cookies
take-away -- to go (as in to-go food)
car park -- parking lot
prawn -- shrimp
lemonade -- lemon-lime soda
That's all for now. Pray for the plane trip home, and see you soon.
Love you, kids.
Mom/Laura and Dad/G
The prayer trip to Wexford with the MAP team and its apprentices was really good. Stayed in a little cottage that was a nice walk from the sea. (Took pictures of the beach, kids -- unlike other beaches, it was sprinkled with large, smooth stones instead of shells.)
It was good to spend time with the apprentices -- three girls (two Beckas and Carmel) who are all just out of college and amazingly committed to the gospel.
A highlight of the trip was dinner with an Irish pastor and his wife (Mic and Bernie -- probably not spelling that correctly). Their story of coming to faith 25 years ago was moving, exciting, unusual. Now, he pastors a church of about 50 which is seeking to plant another church in a neighboring community. We worshipped at his church on Sunday, and met believers from New Zealand, Ireland, South Africa. Steven especially appreciated the sermon -- thought it was very good. (Apparently, Mic loves to listen to Keller sermons.) After church and lunch, we walked around the city in groups of two or three and prayed for the city -- anything that came to mind as we walked, eyes opened, as if we were just talking to one another. It was special and powerful. (This is something the MAP team is committed to doing several times a year for the churches it partners with and their communities.
Today, we took a great trip through the countryside back to our little town of Dalkey. We catch a bus in the morning for the airport.
I've really spent most of the time in these posts giving a run-down about what we're doing. Not really a whole lot about our reaction to it all. But two things for now:
1. The prayers that we would be able to come free to be ourselves and not feeling pressure to perform or meet expectations have been answered in a big way. Conversations have been good and open. The nature of our visit, on top of all the cultural differences and newness of everything, could have been very stressful. But, actually, in the midst of heavy conversations and deep soul-searching, it has been surprisingly stress-free.
2. There's no way anyone could come away from this experience without being changed.
A little Irish lingo
lorry -- truck
biscuits -- cookies
take-away -- to go (as in to-go food)
car park -- parking lot
prawn -- shrimp
lemonade -- lemon-lime soda
That's all for now. Pray for the plane trip home, and see you soon.
Love you, kids.
Mom/Laura and Dad/G
On to Wexford ...
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I've been hungry for news from home for days now -- once we left the Brauers, access to a computer became difficult. There is one in the offices where we are staying, but we haven't been here during office hours.
Thursday was spent at the MAP team's weekly meeting, lunch with the Hyltons, getting settled in our room in Dalkey and then dinner at home of a MAP team member and her Irish husband, Spit (quite the character). It was a good time of eating (scrumptious food -- lamb again with mint sauce, roast potatoes, cabbage and spinach and roast carrots, with an array of Ireland's best chocolate for dessert). Meeting the team members, talking with the Hyltons about transitioning kids, learning the train system (which has been our biggest mode of transportation the last two days) and hanging out with the team were all really good experiences.
Yesterday, we met together with the two single girls on the MAP team -- both incredibly gifted and passionate about Jesus. This was time for talking about our interests and gifts, their roles in the team, our potential role on the team, philosophy of ministry, etc. They took us for a traditional Irish breakfast, including black pudding (made with pig blood -- I tried it, Steven didn't).
Yesterday afternoon looked like our only opportunity for sightseeing, so we took the train into Dublin-proper and packed in as much as possible. Will share about that when I get home. (Did not make it to the art museum, though, Jenny, so didn't see the Carravaggio.)
Last night, dined at a pub with the Hyltons, then went to another pub to hang out with the team as well as the apprentices who are here with the MAP program right now. (It was our first opportunity to meet them.)
I have felt good about all contact with the teams thus far, except perhaps dinner last night -- I think we had probably worn ourselves out a little too much.
Today, it's on to Wexford (down South), where we'll stay in a cottage with the entire team and apprentices. This is a prayer trip, and we'll worship at an Irish church there (where a member of the CR team attends, so we will have another opportunity to see her). I'm looking forward to the worship service -- contact with Irish believers has been incredibly scarce (except for Spit) -- and to seeing the countryside.
Monday, we'll travel back to Dalkey (where we're staying) by train as the team travels further south. We hope to spend the afternoon walking around this former little fishing village and have dinner out, just the two of us, that evening.
Mrs. M, our flight arrives in Birmingham just before 6 on Monday. We should be home somewhere around 7. Burt is picking us up. (I didn't tell Kathy when we would return; do you mind calling her and telling her?)
Has anyone talked with Kathy? Is Bella ok?
A bit of Irish lingo:
slag -- tease
jug -- pitcher
Can't think of any other right now, and Steven is downstairs getting things ready for the trip over to Wexford.
There's a lot to process. This is a foreign land to us, the the gospel is completely foreign to its people. Keep praying for wisdom and clarity.
All of your comments are wonderful. Thank you. And to my children, I may not be able to check e-mail for days, but your comments are sweet to the soul.
Love and miss everyone,
Laura
(P.S. Oh, the weather -- not as cold as we thought, but damp, and windier than I ever could have imagined.)
Thursday was spent at the MAP team's weekly meeting, lunch with the Hyltons, getting settled in our room in Dalkey and then dinner at home of a MAP team member and her Irish husband, Spit (quite the character). It was a good time of eating (scrumptious food -- lamb again with mint sauce, roast potatoes, cabbage and spinach and roast carrots, with an array of Ireland's best chocolate for dessert). Meeting the team members, talking with the Hyltons about transitioning kids, learning the train system (which has been our biggest mode of transportation the last two days) and hanging out with the team were all really good experiences.
Yesterday, we met together with the two single girls on the MAP team -- both incredibly gifted and passionate about Jesus. This was time for talking about our interests and gifts, their roles in the team, our potential role on the team, philosophy of ministry, etc. They took us for a traditional Irish breakfast, including black pudding (made with pig blood -- I tried it, Steven didn't).
Yesterday afternoon looked like our only opportunity for sightseeing, so we took the train into Dublin-proper and packed in as much as possible. Will share about that when I get home. (Did not make it to the art museum, though, Jenny, so didn't see the Carravaggio.)
Last night, dined at a pub with the Hyltons, then went to another pub to hang out with the team as well as the apprentices who are here with the MAP program right now. (It was our first opportunity to meet them.)
I have felt good about all contact with the teams thus far, except perhaps dinner last night -- I think we had probably worn ourselves out a little too much.
Today, it's on to Wexford (down South), where we'll stay in a cottage with the entire team and apprentices. This is a prayer trip, and we'll worship at an Irish church there (where a member of the CR team attends, so we will have another opportunity to see her). I'm looking forward to the worship service -- contact with Irish believers has been incredibly scarce (except for Spit) -- and to seeing the countryside.
Monday, we'll travel back to Dalkey (where we're staying) by train as the team travels further south. We hope to spend the afternoon walking around this former little fishing village and have dinner out, just the two of us, that evening.
Mrs. M, our flight arrives in Birmingham just before 6 on Monday. We should be home somewhere around 7. Burt is picking us up. (I didn't tell Kathy when we would return; do you mind calling her and telling her?)
Has anyone talked with Kathy? Is Bella ok?
A bit of Irish lingo:
slag -- tease
jug -- pitcher
Can't think of any other right now, and Steven is downstairs getting things ready for the trip over to Wexford.
There's a lot to process. This is a foreign land to us, the the gospel is completely foreign to its people. Keep praying for wisdom and clarity.
All of your comments are wonderful. Thank you. And to my children, I may not be able to check e-mail for days, but your comments are sweet to the soul.
Love and miss everyone,
Laura
(P.S. Oh, the weather -- not as cold as we thought, but damp, and windier than I ever could have imagined.)
Update number 2 ...
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Time with the Brauers has been very good. Yesterday, Eric gave us an overview of all the work WHM has been involved in here in Ireland -- current churches, church plants, and churches which, sadly, have folded. There is need for support in the city of Cork, in the southeast.
We had lunch at a cafe yesterday. Learned some new Irish lingo:
crisps -- potato chips
chips -- french fries
loo -- restroom
I went to the local Irish grocery with Karen yesterday evening: it was much like ALDI, but with more choices. The foods available provided good opportunity to learn about some Irish traditions. Bought a few food items for the kids.
Yesterday evening, the Brauers prepared a traditional holiday meal with leg of lamb (flavored with rosemary and garlic). It was delicious. Then we watched Batman Begins together.
Peparing to meet the MAP team in an hour. Gotta go get ready.
More later, I hope ...
We had lunch at a cafe yesterday. Learned some new Irish lingo:
crisps -- potato chips
chips -- french fries
loo -- restroom
I went to the local Irish grocery with Karen yesterday evening: it was much like ALDI, but with more choices. The foods available provided good opportunity to learn about some Irish traditions. Bought a few food items for the kids.
Yesterday evening, the Brauers prepared a traditional holiday meal with leg of lamb (flavored with rosemary and garlic). It was delicious. Then we watched Batman Begins together.
Peparing to meet the MAP team in an hour. Gotta go get ready.
More later, I hope ...
News from Ireland
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
It's 9 p.m. Tuesday in Dublin -- 3 p.m. in Alabama -- and it appears our bodies are adjusting to the time change rather well, which is actually remarkable considering neither of us slept more than 2 hours on the plane last night. (Tomorrow may be a different story. The "lag" may come then.)
The trip over was not terribly difficult, save for the first half hour on the plane, after realizing that our reserved seats had been changed (as had about half the other folks on the plane) and Steven and I would not be sitting together for the 7-hour flight.
Now it's 9:15 a.m. Wednesday -- got into a conversation last night and didn't complete the post.
Anyway, survived the flight over after about a half-hour battle with my disappointment over the whole flight thing. (I know it may seem like a little thing, but I was having to preach the gospel to myself and trust that God has a purpose in everything.) Ended up having some good conversation with a young Irish woman seated beside me. There was an Irish fellow on the other side, but he slept most of the time.
Yesterday, after Eric Brauer picked us up, we went to the Brauer home for a meeting of the Church Resources team he leads. Eric, his wife Karen, and two single ladies (Kathy and Dianne) are the team at this point, though they are expecting another couple to arrive in a few months. These folks are dispersed throughout Ireland, as much as 3 1/2 hours apart from one another, and they work to provide support, encouragement and resources to the Irish pastors (and their spouses) who are planting churches in the country. They are in need of men on the team who can disciple and speak the gospel into the lives of Irish men.
Staying with the Brauers has given a good glimpse into their home life, much of it spent just the same as mine and yours. I went to the school with Karen yesterday to pick up two of her girls (there are three living at home now), who spent much of their afternoon working on homework, music practice, and preparations for dinner. Karen, Steven and I got to talk a good bit about education here, and the different approaches missionaries can take to educating their kids with an eye toward college back in the states. The girls' homework was a good indicator of the level of work -- a bit intimidating. (The third-grader is writing paragraphs, in cursive, perfectly punctuated dialog and all).
I'm especially struck, by our conversations with the team and with Karen individually yesterday, by the "God-lessness" of the culture. It is a place so in need of the gospel. For much of their early years here, Karen said folks thought she was part of a cult. As it is now, she is still careful in how she portrays the work Eric does, and opportunities with her neighbors and other folks she comes in contact with (through schools, etc.) are incredibly slow. And they have been here for 18 years. Dianne and Kathy also gave a pretty vivid picture of the patience needed in gaining trust and having any voice with the Irish, even with the Christians. Relationship is key -- way moreso than in America. Nevertheless, Irish are coming to faith, and two new church plants started as a result of the team's work in the last year.
Today, Steven will be spending time with Eric and me with Karen.
As for Dublin, we haven't seen the city yet. Our time thus far has been spent in the village of Lucen (not sure of spelling) where the Brauers live.
Oh, and for the fun of my children, who I hope will be reading these posts, here are some Irish terms for American words:
woolies -- sweaters
estate -- neighborhood
press -- closet
tele -- television
motorway -- interstate
And the kids might like to know that the Brauers have two pet parakeets (who chatter non-stop) and a gorgeous pet rabbit named Cinnamon.
Hugs and kisses to all,
Laura
The trip over was not terribly difficult, save for the first half hour on the plane, after realizing that our reserved seats had been changed (as had about half the other folks on the plane) and Steven and I would not be sitting together for the 7-hour flight.
Now it's 9:15 a.m. Wednesday -- got into a conversation last night and didn't complete the post.
Anyway, survived the flight over after about a half-hour battle with my disappointment over the whole flight thing. (I know it may seem like a little thing, but I was having to preach the gospel to myself and trust that God has a purpose in everything.) Ended up having some good conversation with a young Irish woman seated beside me. There was an Irish fellow on the other side, but he slept most of the time.
Yesterday, after Eric Brauer picked us up, we went to the Brauer home for a meeting of the Church Resources team he leads. Eric, his wife Karen, and two single ladies (Kathy and Dianne) are the team at this point, though they are expecting another couple to arrive in a few months. These folks are dispersed throughout Ireland, as much as 3 1/2 hours apart from one another, and they work to provide support, encouragement and resources to the Irish pastors (and their spouses) who are planting churches in the country. They are in need of men on the team who can disciple and speak the gospel into the lives of Irish men.
Staying with the Brauers has given a good glimpse into their home life, much of it spent just the same as mine and yours. I went to the school with Karen yesterday to pick up two of her girls (there are three living at home now), who spent much of their afternoon working on homework, music practice, and preparations for dinner. Karen, Steven and I got to talk a good bit about education here, and the different approaches missionaries can take to educating their kids with an eye toward college back in the states. The girls' homework was a good indicator of the level of work -- a bit intimidating. (The third-grader is writing paragraphs, in cursive, perfectly punctuated dialog and all).
I'm especially struck, by our conversations with the team and with Karen individually yesterday, by the "God-lessness" of the culture. It is a place so in need of the gospel. For much of their early years here, Karen said folks thought she was part of a cult. As it is now, she is still careful in how she portrays the work Eric does, and opportunities with her neighbors and other folks she comes in contact with (through schools, etc.) are incredibly slow. And they have been here for 18 years. Dianne and Kathy also gave a pretty vivid picture of the patience needed in gaining trust and having any voice with the Irish, even with the Christians. Relationship is key -- way moreso than in America. Nevertheless, Irish are coming to faith, and two new church plants started as a result of the team's work in the last year.
Today, Steven will be spending time with Eric and me with Karen.
As for Dublin, we haven't seen the city yet. Our time thus far has been spent in the village of Lucen (not sure of spelling) where the Brauers live.
Oh, and for the fun of my children, who I hope will be reading these posts, here are some Irish terms for American words:
woolies -- sweaters
estate -- neighborhood
press -- closet
tele -- television
motorway -- interstate
And the kids might like to know that the Brauers have two pet parakeets (who chatter non-stop) and a gorgeous pet rabbit named Cinnamon.
Hugs and kisses to all,
Laura
More ways to pray
Sunday, February 17, 2008
It's 12:18, and I really should be in bed. I thought we were doing so well preparing all week for our trip to Ireland and for the four kiddos' to hang with friends and family. But, alas, it's 12:21 now, and there's still a load of laundry in the dryer, school assignments to be made, one bathroom to be cleaned, and kids' pictures to be gathered and packed.
My hubby, I know, posted a prayer list on our "Ireland blog" -- but there are a few additional things I've been thinking about, so I'm posting a list here as well.
1. Pray that we will deal reasonably well with the time change, and that jet lag will be minimal.
2. Pray for the families who will be keeping our children: Bartzes, Buchans, Claytons, Coopers, Holmeses, Johnsons, Morgans, and Postons.
3. Pray for the teams we'll be visiting, the Church Resources team and the Mission Apprenticeship Program team, and particularly team leaders Eric and Karen Brauer and Joel and Cindy Hylton.
4. Pray for continued good health (and praise that He has kept us flu-free).
5. Pray that this experience, whatever the outcome, will deepen our relationships with Christ and increase our passion for taking the gospel to the world.
I could keep going, but I really must go to bed. So skip on over to www.morganjourney.blogspot.com and read the prayer list on our "Ireland" blog as well, ok? (There are biggies over there.)
It has been astounding to see God work every little detail of this trip (ask me about the ziplock story someday). Thanks for any part you had in it (whether that be donating funds, praying, helping with kids, or any of the myriad unseen ways you could have helped). We're thankful, we're humbled, and we still covet your prayers.
Til we blog again ...
My hubby, I know, posted a prayer list on our "Ireland blog" -- but there are a few additional things I've been thinking about, so I'm posting a list here as well.
1. Pray that we will deal reasonably well with the time change, and that jet lag will be minimal.
2. Pray for the families who will be keeping our children: Bartzes, Buchans, Claytons, Coopers, Holmeses, Johnsons, Morgans, and Postons.
3. Pray for the teams we'll be visiting, the Church Resources team and the Mission Apprenticeship Program team, and particularly team leaders Eric and Karen Brauer and Joel and Cindy Hylton.
4. Pray for continued good health (and praise that He has kept us flu-free).
5. Pray that this experience, whatever the outcome, will deepen our relationships with Christ and increase our passion for taking the gospel to the world.
I could keep going, but I really must go to bed. So skip on over to www.morganjourney.blogspot.com and read the prayer list on our "Ireland" blog as well, ok? (There are biggies over there.)
It has been astounding to see God work every little detail of this trip (ask me about the ziplock story someday). Thanks for any part you had in it (whether that be donating funds, praying, helping with kids, or any of the myriad unseen ways you could have helped). We're thankful, we're humbled, and we still covet your prayers.
Til we blog again ...
Selections from my copybook
Thursday, February 14, 2008
When I posted the (rather LONG) list of books on my chairside table several weeks ago, one of the books I mentioned was my copybook, where I copy down favorite quotes, book passages, scripture, etc. Crissy Sharp suggested that I post some selections from that copybook, so here they are. And be forewarned, this post is a little long as well, but it was difficult to narrow down the options. Hope you enjoy the reading!
On imagination…
Imagination may become like that cave Ezekiel tells of wherein were all manner of unseemly and evil things; it may be a temple wherein self is glorified; it may be a chamber of horrors and dangers; but it may also be a House Beautiful. It is enough for us to remember that imagination is stored with those images supplied day by day whether by the cinema, the penny dreadful, by Homer or Shakespeare, by the great picture or the flaming shocker. – Charlotte Mason, Philosophy of Education
A favorite scripture …
In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. – Isaiah 30:15
Who I am …
I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind oh
I live the envelope pushed far enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my home
Destined to serve, destined to roam – from the Soundtrack of Narnia
Regarding God’s glory …
Glory is to God what style is to an artist. A painting by Vermeer, a sonnet by Donne, a Mozart aria – each is so rich with the style of the one who made it that to the connoisseur, it couldn’t have been made by anybody else, and the effect is staggering. The style of an artist brings you as close to the sound of his voice and the light in his eye as it is possible to get this side of actually shaking hands with him. In the words of Psalm 19:1, “The heavens are telling the glory of God.” It is the same thing. To the connoisseur, not just sunsets and starry nights, but dust storms, rain forests, garter snakes, and the human face are all unmistakably the work of a single hand. Glory is the outward manifestation of the hand in its handiwork just as holiness is the inward. To behold God’s glory, to sense God’s style, is the closest you can get to God this side of paradise, just as to read King Lear is the closest you can get to Shakespeare. Glory is what God looks like when for the time being all you have to look at him with is a pair of eyes. – Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words
From Robinson Crusoe …
And I add, for whoever shall read this, that whenever they come to a true sense of things, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing that deliverance from affliction. – Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe
From a book God uses time-and-again to change my life …
We will rely on everything but God. He in turn will prepare us for grace by closing our favorite escape exits until there is only one way. – Rose Marie Miller, From Fear to Freedom
On learning …
… every good gift of knowledge and insight comes from above, that the Lord the Holy Spirit is the supreme educator of mankind, and that the culmination of all education is that personal knowledge of, and intimacy with, God, in which our being finds its fullest perfections. – Charlotte Mason
One of my favorite short fiction passages …
“That is where your [paintings] will hang in the spring,” Anna Schaeffer said to me, pointing to the walls.
I stared at her and felt a shock move through me.
“I would have done it this year,” she said. “But this old man would not let me.”
“He is still a boy this year,” Jacob Kahn said. “A boy should not rush to make his soul naked.” – Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev
On home …
That house was a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or storytelling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear and sadness. – JRR Tolkein
Regarding one of my indulgences …
A hot bath! I cry, as I sit down in it; and again, as I lie flat, a hot bath! How exquisite a vespertine pleasure, how luxurious, fervid and fragrant a consolation for the rigours, the austerities, the renunciations of the day. – Rose Macaulay
Truth from the pen of a friend …
Grace [is] not only His death on a cross so I could go to heaven; it [is] his faithful pursuit of me even though I [am] completely unworthy. … I deserved the agony of never having what He created me to long for – Himself. … Imagine heaven – the joy of being in the presence of the living God in a glorified body that is always in communion with him because all of my desires and longings are met in him and I am able to completely and perfectly glorify Him. And the awe I will experience with a heart finally turned toward what is perfect. – Jennifer Jensen
Regarding salvation …
If we have only a legal-transaction understanding of salvation in which we are forgiven of our sins so we can go to heaven, then salvation essentially becomes a ticket to somewhere else. In this understanding, eternity is something that kicks in when we die. But Jesus did not teach this.
Jesus said that when we believe, we have crossed over from death to life. God always has been and always will be. And when I enter into a relationship with God through Christ, I am connected with God now and I will be connected with God forever. For Jesus, salvation is now.
I need a God for now.
I need healing now.
I need help now.
Yes, even greater things will happen someday.
But salvation is now. – Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis
And if you’re still with me, a favorite poem …
Batter my heart, three-person’d God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seek to mend,
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthorw mee, and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like a usurpt tower, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason, your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely I love you, and would be loved faine,
But am betroth’d unto your enemie;
Divorce mee, untie or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. – John Donne
I love all of these selections. Which one's your favorite?
On imagination…
Imagination may become like that cave Ezekiel tells of wherein were all manner of unseemly and evil things; it may be a temple wherein self is glorified; it may be a chamber of horrors and dangers; but it may also be a House Beautiful. It is enough for us to remember that imagination is stored with those images supplied day by day whether by the cinema, the penny dreadful, by Homer or Shakespeare, by the great picture or the flaming shocker. – Charlotte Mason, Philosophy of Education
A favorite scripture …
In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. – Isaiah 30:15
Who I am …
I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind oh
I live the envelope pushed far enough to believe this
I am a princess on the way to my home
Destined to serve, destined to roam – from the Soundtrack of Narnia
Regarding God’s glory …
Glory is to God what style is to an artist. A painting by Vermeer, a sonnet by Donne, a Mozart aria – each is so rich with the style of the one who made it that to the connoisseur, it couldn’t have been made by anybody else, and the effect is staggering. The style of an artist brings you as close to the sound of his voice and the light in his eye as it is possible to get this side of actually shaking hands with him. In the words of Psalm 19:1, “The heavens are telling the glory of God.” It is the same thing. To the connoisseur, not just sunsets and starry nights, but dust storms, rain forests, garter snakes, and the human face are all unmistakably the work of a single hand. Glory is the outward manifestation of the hand in its handiwork just as holiness is the inward. To behold God’s glory, to sense God’s style, is the closest you can get to God this side of paradise, just as to read King Lear is the closest you can get to Shakespeare. Glory is what God looks like when for the time being all you have to look at him with is a pair of eyes. – Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words
From Robinson Crusoe …
And I add, for whoever shall read this, that whenever they come to a true sense of things, they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing that deliverance from affliction. – Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe
From a book God uses time-and-again to change my life …
We will rely on everything but God. He in turn will prepare us for grace by closing our favorite escape exits until there is only one way. – Rose Marie Miller, From Fear to Freedom
On learning …
… every good gift of knowledge and insight comes from above, that the Lord the Holy Spirit is the supreme educator of mankind, and that the culmination of all education is that personal knowledge of, and intimacy with, God, in which our being finds its fullest perfections. – Charlotte Mason
One of my favorite short fiction passages …
“That is where your [paintings] will hang in the spring,” Anna Schaeffer said to me, pointing to the walls.
I stared at her and felt a shock move through me.
“I would have done it this year,” she said. “But this old man would not let me.”
“He is still a boy this year,” Jacob Kahn said. “A boy should not rush to make his soul naked.” – Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev
On home …
That house was a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or storytelling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear and sadness. – JRR Tolkein
Regarding one of my indulgences …
A hot bath! I cry, as I sit down in it; and again, as I lie flat, a hot bath! How exquisite a vespertine pleasure, how luxurious, fervid and fragrant a consolation for the rigours, the austerities, the renunciations of the day. – Rose Macaulay
Truth from the pen of a friend …
Grace [is] not only His death on a cross so I could go to heaven; it [is] his faithful pursuit of me even though I [am] completely unworthy. … I deserved the agony of never having what He created me to long for – Himself. … Imagine heaven – the joy of being in the presence of the living God in a glorified body that is always in communion with him because all of my desires and longings are met in him and I am able to completely and perfectly glorify Him. And the awe I will experience with a heart finally turned toward what is perfect. – Jennifer Jensen
Regarding salvation …
If we have only a legal-transaction understanding of salvation in which we are forgiven of our sins so we can go to heaven, then salvation essentially becomes a ticket to somewhere else. In this understanding, eternity is something that kicks in when we die. But Jesus did not teach this.
Jesus said that when we believe, we have crossed over from death to life. God always has been and always will be. And when I enter into a relationship with God through Christ, I am connected with God now and I will be connected with God forever. For Jesus, salvation is now.
I need a God for now.
I need healing now.
I need help now.
Yes, even greater things will happen someday.
But salvation is now. – Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis
And if you’re still with me, a favorite poem …
Batter my heart, three-person’d God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seek to mend,
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthorw mee, and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like a usurpt tower, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason, your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely I love you, and would be loved faine,
But am betroth’d unto your enemie;
Divorce mee, untie or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. – John Donne
I love all of these selections. Which one's your favorite?
Thoughts on the Christian life
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
I have begun this post five times at least. I write a sentence, erase it, write another, erase it, and the cycle continues. There are thoughts swarming in my head, and in my pride, I find myself wanting to communicate them in the most eloquent, compelling way possible. And my words fall short.
What I want to talk about is the radical nature of the Christian life. It’s a theme God has woven into the tapestry of my life this week -- into conversations I’ve had, books I’ve read, struggles we’ve encountered. I’m captured by the thought of it, convicted by the reality of it: God has not called us to a wimpy faith; he has called us to a radical one.
It’s radical to lie prostrate on the floor before God – but twice this week I’ve encountered passionate believers who challenged me to this practice. One was Beth Moore, via Shirley Wolfe’s Wednesday night Bible study; she challenged the viewers of her latest video series to begin each day in a humble, prostrate position before the Lord. The other was the late theologian A.W. Tozer, whose “regular habit was to sprawl on his study floor, facedown, and worship God.” (Tozer, I read, even read Shakespeare on his knees because he believed all efforts toward knowledge and understanding to be spiritual pursuits.)
It’s radical to fast – but this week I encountered passionate believers who celebrate the practice of fasting. Doctor William McKenzie, my believing doctor, challenged me months ago to fast over an issue in my life. I had no biblical understanding of the practice, so Steven photocopied a chapter of a book he’d been reading and brought it home to me. This week I found the chapter, was reminded of Dr. McKenzie’s exhortation (which was still valid, by the way), and so finally read “The Discipline of Fasting” (by Richard Foster). What I discovered was a moving biblical argument toward the practice of fasting, solid Biblical instruction on the purposes of fasting, and practical information on the physical aspects of fasting. It was startling, yes, but also compelling. “You will be engaging in spiritual warfare that will necessitate using all the weapons of Ephesians 6,” Foster writes. “… But I do not want to leave the impression that all fasting is a heavy spiritual struggle – I have not found it so. It is also ‘righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Rom. 14:17).”
Tozer, whom I've also been reading this week, fondly referred to radical believers – the ones whose souls follow hard after God -- as the “fellowship of the burning heart.” The analogy is vivid, brilliant, alive: the fellowship – believers – whose one commonality is a flaming passion for Jesus.
I have never lain prostrate before my Lord, and I don’t think I’ve ever fasted. The best I do is to occasionally lift my hands in worship. Sadly, my own life too often is characterized by a lack of radical living. Tozer speaks of this, too: “The stiff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire.”
Oh, to have holy desire. The kind of desire that allows me to fall prostrate before my father, without feeling self-conscious. The kind of desire that compels me to fast, sacrificing the thing most necessary physically for the gain of a thing most necessary spiritually. The kind of desire (flaming!) that initiates me, even me, into the Fellowship of the Burning Heart. Now that would be RADICAL!
What I want to talk about is the radical nature of the Christian life. It’s a theme God has woven into the tapestry of my life this week -- into conversations I’ve had, books I’ve read, struggles we’ve encountered. I’m captured by the thought of it, convicted by the reality of it: God has not called us to a wimpy faith; he has called us to a radical one.
It’s radical to lie prostrate on the floor before God – but twice this week I’ve encountered passionate believers who challenged me to this practice. One was Beth Moore, via Shirley Wolfe’s Wednesday night Bible study; she challenged the viewers of her latest video series to begin each day in a humble, prostrate position before the Lord. The other was the late theologian A.W. Tozer, whose “regular habit was to sprawl on his study floor, facedown, and worship God.” (Tozer, I read, even read Shakespeare on his knees because he believed all efforts toward knowledge and understanding to be spiritual pursuits.)
It’s radical to fast – but this week I encountered passionate believers who celebrate the practice of fasting. Doctor William McKenzie, my believing doctor, challenged me months ago to fast over an issue in my life. I had no biblical understanding of the practice, so Steven photocopied a chapter of a book he’d been reading and brought it home to me. This week I found the chapter, was reminded of Dr. McKenzie’s exhortation (which was still valid, by the way), and so finally read “The Discipline of Fasting” (by Richard Foster). What I discovered was a moving biblical argument toward the practice of fasting, solid Biblical instruction on the purposes of fasting, and practical information on the physical aspects of fasting. It was startling, yes, but also compelling. “You will be engaging in spiritual warfare that will necessitate using all the weapons of Ephesians 6,” Foster writes. “… But I do not want to leave the impression that all fasting is a heavy spiritual struggle – I have not found it so. It is also ‘righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Rom. 14:17).”
Tozer, whom I've also been reading this week, fondly referred to radical believers – the ones whose souls follow hard after God -- as the “fellowship of the burning heart.” The analogy is vivid, brilliant, alive: the fellowship – believers – whose one commonality is a flaming passion for Jesus.
I have never lain prostrate before my Lord, and I don’t think I’ve ever fasted. The best I do is to occasionally lift my hands in worship. Sadly, my own life too often is characterized by a lack of radical living. Tozer speaks of this, too: “The stiff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire.”
Oh, to have holy desire. The kind of desire that allows me to fall prostrate before my father, without feeling self-conscious. The kind of desire that compels me to fast, sacrificing the thing most necessary physically for the gain of a thing most necessary spiritually. The kind of desire (flaming!) that initiates me, even me, into the Fellowship of the Burning Heart. Now that would be RADICAL!
On my chairside table ...
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
One of these days, I really do intend to post my booklist. Can't do it, though, til I figure out how to deal with such a sizable amount of text -- post all at once, divide into categories, post as a sidebar list, post a book a week, etc. And I'm a slow thinker, remember, so I'm pondering the possibilities.
In honor of those of you who've asked, however, and because I do have a reputation as the book diva, thought I'd let you know what's currently gracing the table beside my favorite chair.
In no certain order:
Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland; Walking Dublin; Eyewitness Dublin; Ireland from $80 a Day -- I'm soaking in these as we prepare for our trip, just over a month away; wanting to be familiar enough with the culture and geography that I won't be such a bumbling foreigner (I know, wishful thinking). We've been encouraged to spend some time walking around Dublin, getting to know the place a bit, so I'm trying to familiarize myself a tad with the layout of the city. The country is rich with history, so of course there are a few sights I'd like to see (St. Patrick's Cathedral, Ha'Penny Bridge, Temple Bar district, and, need I mention, at least a couple o' castles). And the books are chock-ful of useful information (like the fact that all purchases include a 21-PERCENT sales tax -- can you say "ouch"! -- which foreigners can re-coup in the airport as they leave the country). Our trip is not a "sight-seeing vacation," and really I have no desire for it to be (it's an act of grace, surely, that I'm truly most excited about getting to know the teams and the work they do), but I want to know this place to which we're considering moving, and a little study may come in handy for the trip.
Invitation to the Classics: A Guide to the Books You've Always Wanted to Read -- Historical background and commentary on great classic literature (The Iliad, Great Expectations, Utopia, Pride and Prejudice, Heart of Darkness, etc.) as well as selected quotes and passages. Written from a distinctly Christian worldview, this book also includes sections on works by Augustine, John Calvin, Martin Luther, etc.
February issue, Southern Living magazine -- I love magazines, but rarely splurge on them. The exception is my subscription to Southern Living magazine, and after a day of schooling and purging closets/bookshelves (still on my quest to streamline school and life in general), I actually sat down in my comfy green chair with matching ottoman (thanks Boo and Evan) and perused this latest issue. Looking forward to testing recipes for Creole Fried Rice (for my G-love), Pan-Fried Chicken and Spinach Salad (yum, for me) and King Ranch Chicken Casserole (for the fam, and maybe guests).
My bible, and the World Harvest Sonship bible study
DK Great Artists Explained -- an annotated guide to the works of about 100 "great artists". Gives background on the artists, then an image and interesting analysis of one work each.
The Intrepid Art Collector: The Beginner's Guide to Finding, Buying and Appreciating Art on a Budget -- A Christmas gift from my hubby, who knows I long to fill the walls of our home not with "canned" art, but with one-of-a-kind originals. (My children's painted canvasses, the seventies-ish needlepoint purchased at a church rummage sale, and my collection of bird nests and other natural objects all have more appeal to me now than most any framed print I find.) The book provides practical information on buying art (even from little local galleries) and a fascinating look at the competitive world of art collecting.
Prayers from the Heart (by Richard Foster) and The Valley of Vision -- So I don't like canned art, but I do love "canned" prayers. They broaden the way I pray, and help me to express myself when I'm struggling to do so.
A Sense of Wonder: On Reading and Writing Books for Children -- Kept this book out of the library so long, it now belongs to me; they billed me for it. It's a book of essays by Katherine Paterson, two-time winner of the National Book Award and Newberry Medal (Bridge to Terabithia, Jacob Have I Loved, The Great Gilly Hopkins). The first essay is all about words (which, ironically, I've been planning to use as the subject of a mini-scrapbook -- my love of words, that is.) Anyway, Paterson writes, "I know as you do, that words can be used for evil as well as good. But we must take that risk. We must try as best we are able to give our children words that will shape their minds so they can make those miraculous leaps of imagination that no sinless computer will ever be able to rival -- those connections in science, in art, in the living of this life, that will reveal the little truths. For it is these little truths that point to the awesome, unknowable unity, the Truth, which holds us together and makes us members one of another." Now I don't agree with everything Paterson says -- even parts of that last statement are problematic -- but her storytelling is captivating, and she causes me to think, to ponder words and their power, to draw connections between "words" and the "Word." And I'm only one essay into the book.
Religious Education Through Story-telling; Education Through Story-telling -- two ancient volumes (actually, only about 80 years old) on the know-how and advantages of clothing educational instruction in literary language. Complete with suggested fables, myths and various other stories for the beginning story-teller. Great for anyone who speaks/teaches -- parents, teachers, Sunday School teachers, homeschoolers, public speakers, etc.
Mad Math -- a book my kids discarded, which I'm using to sharpen my mathematical and cricical thinking skills.
A Book Lover's Diary -- provides space for recording books I want to read, books I want to own, books I share, and books I borrow. Also sections for remembering my favorite books and writing down my favorite passages.
Altered Board Book (Basics and Beyond); Faith Books and Spiritual Journaling (Expressions of Faith through Art) -- two books about scrapbooking ... books. One focuses on altering little kids' board books into new books, the other focuses on making books and journals about scripture, prayer, faith.
The Child from the Sea, and The Poet and the Pauper -- novels by one of my all-time favorite authors (Elizabeth Goudge, Scent of Water and Pilgrim's Inn), and a newly-discovered favorite (George MacDonald).
Don't Make Me Count to Three! A Mom's Look at Heart-Oriented Discipline -- probably the one I most need to read, but haven't even started yet.
Understanding Your Man in the Mirror -- not because he's tough to understand, but because I I need and want to give him more of myself.
copybook -- Black leather journal embossed with a flower design, where I record scripture, book passages, poetry, song lyrics, quotes -- any words which resonate with me.
The Art of Life (Edith Schaeffer), Ruthless Trust (Brennan Manning) and a host of others (the table's overflowing).
They say you can learn a lot about a person by looking at their bookshelves. I can definitely see the themes of my life running through the pages on my chairside table.
In honor of those of you who've asked, however, and because I do have a reputation as the book diva, thought I'd let you know what's currently gracing the table beside my favorite chair.
In no certain order:
Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland; Walking Dublin; Eyewitness Dublin; Ireland from $80 a Day -- I'm soaking in these as we prepare for our trip, just over a month away; wanting to be familiar enough with the culture and geography that I won't be such a bumbling foreigner (I know, wishful thinking). We've been encouraged to spend some time walking around Dublin, getting to know the place a bit, so I'm trying to familiarize myself a tad with the layout of the city. The country is rich with history, so of course there are a few sights I'd like to see (St. Patrick's Cathedral, Ha'Penny Bridge, Temple Bar district, and, need I mention, at least a couple o' castles). And the books are chock-ful of useful information (like the fact that all purchases include a 21-PERCENT sales tax -- can you say "ouch"! -- which foreigners can re-coup in the airport as they leave the country). Our trip is not a "sight-seeing vacation," and really I have no desire for it to be (it's an act of grace, surely, that I'm truly most excited about getting to know the teams and the work they do), but I want to know this place to which we're considering moving, and a little study may come in handy for the trip.
Invitation to the Classics: A Guide to the Books You've Always Wanted to Read -- Historical background and commentary on great classic literature (The Iliad, Great Expectations, Utopia, Pride and Prejudice, Heart of Darkness, etc.) as well as selected quotes and passages. Written from a distinctly Christian worldview, this book also includes sections on works by Augustine, John Calvin, Martin Luther, etc.
February issue, Southern Living magazine -- I love magazines, but rarely splurge on them. The exception is my subscription to Southern Living magazine, and after a day of schooling and purging closets/bookshelves (still on my quest to streamline school and life in general), I actually sat down in my comfy green chair with matching ottoman (thanks Boo and Evan) and perused this latest issue. Looking forward to testing recipes for Creole Fried Rice (for my G-love), Pan-Fried Chicken and Spinach Salad (yum, for me) and King Ranch Chicken Casserole (for the fam, and maybe guests).
My bible, and the World Harvest Sonship bible study
DK Great Artists Explained -- an annotated guide to the works of about 100 "great artists". Gives background on the artists, then an image and interesting analysis of one work each.
The Intrepid Art Collector: The Beginner's Guide to Finding, Buying and Appreciating Art on a Budget -- A Christmas gift from my hubby, who knows I long to fill the walls of our home not with "canned" art, but with one-of-a-kind originals. (My children's painted canvasses, the seventies-ish needlepoint purchased at a church rummage sale, and my collection of bird nests and other natural objects all have more appeal to me now than most any framed print I find.) The book provides practical information on buying art (even from little local galleries) and a fascinating look at the competitive world of art collecting.
Prayers from the Heart (by Richard Foster) and The Valley of Vision -- So I don't like canned art, but I do love "canned" prayers. They broaden the way I pray, and help me to express myself when I'm struggling to do so.
A Sense of Wonder: On Reading and Writing Books for Children -- Kept this book out of the library so long, it now belongs to me; they billed me for it. It's a book of essays by Katherine Paterson, two-time winner of the National Book Award and Newberry Medal (Bridge to Terabithia, Jacob Have I Loved, The Great Gilly Hopkins). The first essay is all about words (which, ironically, I've been planning to use as the subject of a mini-scrapbook -- my love of words, that is.) Anyway, Paterson writes, "I know as you do, that words can be used for evil as well as good. But we must take that risk. We must try as best we are able to give our children words that will shape their minds so they can make those miraculous leaps of imagination that no sinless computer will ever be able to rival -- those connections in science, in art, in the living of this life, that will reveal the little truths. For it is these little truths that point to the awesome, unknowable unity, the Truth, which holds us together and makes us members one of another." Now I don't agree with everything Paterson says -- even parts of that last statement are problematic -- but her storytelling is captivating, and she causes me to think, to ponder words and their power, to draw connections between "words" and the "Word." And I'm only one essay into the book.
Religious Education Through Story-telling; Education Through Story-telling -- two ancient volumes (actually, only about 80 years old) on the know-how and advantages of clothing educational instruction in literary language. Complete with suggested fables, myths and various other stories for the beginning story-teller. Great for anyone who speaks/teaches -- parents, teachers, Sunday School teachers, homeschoolers, public speakers, etc.
Mad Math -- a book my kids discarded, which I'm using to sharpen my mathematical and cricical thinking skills.
A Book Lover's Diary -- provides space for recording books I want to read, books I want to own, books I share, and books I borrow. Also sections for remembering my favorite books and writing down my favorite passages.
Altered Board Book (Basics and Beyond); Faith Books and Spiritual Journaling (Expressions of Faith through Art) -- two books about scrapbooking ... books. One focuses on altering little kids' board books into new books, the other focuses on making books and journals about scripture, prayer, faith.
The Child from the Sea, and The Poet and the Pauper -- novels by one of my all-time favorite authors (Elizabeth Goudge, Scent of Water and Pilgrim's Inn), and a newly-discovered favorite (George MacDonald).
Don't Make Me Count to Three! A Mom's Look at Heart-Oriented Discipline -- probably the one I most need to read, but haven't even started yet.
Understanding Your Man in the Mirror -- not because he's tough to understand, but because I I need and want to give him more of myself.
copybook -- Black leather journal embossed with a flower design, where I record scripture, book passages, poetry, song lyrics, quotes -- any words which resonate with me.
The Art of Life (Edith Schaeffer), Ruthless Trust (Brennan Manning) and a host of others (the table's overflowing).
They say you can learn a lot about a person by looking at their bookshelves. I can definitely see the themes of my life running through the pages on my chairside table.
Random thoughts
Friday, January 11, 2008
Random thought number 1
I love my church. Sunday was beautiful. The Spirit's presence was almost palpable. Meryl said the entire service was anointed, and I think she's so right. In everything -- Steven's prayers, Jeff's articulation, Hope's tears, Adria's presence, Jesse's words, Quinn's challenge, Stoke's and Connie's song, Burt's sermon, the communion and weeping and community -- the Gospel reigned. The things of the world -- pride, defensiveness, bitterness, self-righteousness, anger -- were replaced by things of the Spirit -- humility, weakness, forgiveness, grace, restoration, love. Someone asked how we thought visitors responded; personally, I can't imagine how they could have left that service without being more drawn to Christ, because there's nothing more seductive than to see the gospel lived out.
Random thought number 2 (related to random thought number 1)
I love our elders. One of the most powerful things to me about Sunday morning was the gathering of men who left their respective places in the congregation, joined one another on the stage, and stood as a humble, Godly leadership. I'm thankful for these men, so committed to the Gospel and the Church, who ushered in such a poignant time of healing and restoration. I'm thankful to our God who called them and made them his own, and whose work in their lives has been so evident.
Random thought number 3 (related to random thoughts number 1 and 2)
My last thought as I walked out of the sanctuary on Sunday morning:
"I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God." Is. 61:10
Random thought number 4 (unrelated to random thoughts 1-3)
I'm attempting to simplify my life right now. Especially homeschooling. Having difficulty managing four grade-levels -- planning and grading for every subject (almost) for every child at four different grade levels. Crazy. And chaos. Pray for me.
Random thought number 5
Played the game Imaginiff with the Claytons on New Year's Eve. Great fun. You must try it.
Random thought number 6 (may have blogged about this before, but too lazy to read through my posts to find out)
I'm a slow thinker. I've always known this. Friends have ragged me for being slow at things, but truly, I'm slow at DOING because I'm slow at THINKING. This extends into all areas of my life. Need to discipline my child -- "go sit on the sofa until I figure out what to say to you." Need to re-vamp homeschool history strategy -- punt history for two weeks while I think through the possibilities and figure out a new strategy. Want to scrapbook a prayer journal, a birthday mini-album, an altered board book -- creativity comes, but ever so slowly. I can't engage in a debate (that's a nice word for argument), study scripture, read a book, post to my blog, or watch a movie without confronting the fact that my brain processes information far more slowly than I'd prefer. There are advantages, of course: I'm less likely to say something I regret, and there's less opportunity for pride (I'd be even more prideful than I am, if that's possible, if I were as efficient in all these things as I'd like to be). Frankly, though, I really struggle not to compare myself with others in this regard. Like, I think Kim Hill probably has more original thoughts go through her head in a single morning than I do in a month of Sundays. If it matters to me when I get to heaven (which it probably won't, but if it did), I think I'll ask God why he saw fit to give me a brain which operates at dial-up speed. Meanwhile, need to repent.
Random thought number 7
Getting very excited about the site visit to Ireland. When I think about the trip, the only thing that's really making me panic is the airplane ride -- oh, and the fear that we'll leave there with no clue what God wants us to do. Pray for clarity of vision -- and a safe plane trip -- and that I'll trust Him even in the event of an unsafe plane trip.
It's taken me a very slow hour-and-a-half to write this post. I probably should have been thinking about revamping the history curriculum.
Tootles, then, til next time.
I love my church. Sunday was beautiful. The Spirit's presence was almost palpable. Meryl said the entire service was anointed, and I think she's so right. In everything -- Steven's prayers, Jeff's articulation, Hope's tears, Adria's presence, Jesse's words, Quinn's challenge, Stoke's and Connie's song, Burt's sermon, the communion and weeping and community -- the Gospel reigned. The things of the world -- pride, defensiveness, bitterness, self-righteousness, anger -- were replaced by things of the Spirit -- humility, weakness, forgiveness, grace, restoration, love. Someone asked how we thought visitors responded; personally, I can't imagine how they could have left that service without being more drawn to Christ, because there's nothing more seductive than to see the gospel lived out.
Random thought number 2 (related to random thought number 1)
I love our elders. One of the most powerful things to me about Sunday morning was the gathering of men who left their respective places in the congregation, joined one another on the stage, and stood as a humble, Godly leadership. I'm thankful for these men, so committed to the Gospel and the Church, who ushered in such a poignant time of healing and restoration. I'm thankful to our God who called them and made them his own, and whose work in their lives has been so evident.
Random thought number 3 (related to random thoughts number 1 and 2)
My last thought as I walked out of the sanctuary on Sunday morning:
"I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God." Is. 61:10
Random thought number 4 (unrelated to random thoughts 1-3)
I'm attempting to simplify my life right now. Especially homeschooling. Having difficulty managing four grade-levels -- planning and grading for every subject (almost) for every child at four different grade levels. Crazy. And chaos. Pray for me.
Random thought number 5
Played the game Imaginiff with the Claytons on New Year's Eve. Great fun. You must try it.
Random thought number 6 (may have blogged about this before, but too lazy to read through my posts to find out)
I'm a slow thinker. I've always known this. Friends have ragged me for being slow at things, but truly, I'm slow at DOING because I'm slow at THINKING. This extends into all areas of my life. Need to discipline my child -- "go sit on the sofa until I figure out what to say to you." Need to re-vamp homeschool history strategy -- punt history for two weeks while I think through the possibilities and figure out a new strategy. Want to scrapbook a prayer journal, a birthday mini-album, an altered board book -- creativity comes, but ever so slowly. I can't engage in a debate (that's a nice word for argument), study scripture, read a book, post to my blog, or watch a movie without confronting the fact that my brain processes information far more slowly than I'd prefer. There are advantages, of course: I'm less likely to say something I regret, and there's less opportunity for pride (I'd be even more prideful than I am, if that's possible, if I were as efficient in all these things as I'd like to be). Frankly, though, I really struggle not to compare myself with others in this regard. Like, I think Kim Hill probably has more original thoughts go through her head in a single morning than I do in a month of Sundays. If it matters to me when I get to heaven (which it probably won't, but if it did), I think I'll ask God why he saw fit to give me a brain which operates at dial-up speed. Meanwhile, need to repent.
Random thought number 7
Getting very excited about the site visit to Ireland. When I think about the trip, the only thing that's really making me panic is the airplane ride -- oh, and the fear that we'll leave there with no clue what God wants us to do. Pray for clarity of vision -- and a safe plane trip -- and that I'll trust Him even in the event of an unsafe plane trip.
It's taken me a very slow hour-and-a-half to write this post. I probably should have been thinking about revamping the history curriculum.
Tootles, then, til next time.
Bedtime prayers with Bella
Saturday, December 29, 2007
For eons now, I've been working to get Bella to pray out loud. We always pray, mind you, but up until a few months ago it's been me doing all the praying. Bella's prone to admitting that she has "stage nervousness" (where she learned that term I'll never know), so I guess you could say she has "praying-out-loud nervousness" too.
Finally, a few months ago, she began to pray out loud by repeating my prayers. You know what it's like when you make a cell phone call and can hear your own echo in the background? Very distracting. Well, that's what praying with Bella was like for several months as she warmed up to the idea of praying out loud: me praying, Bella echoing.
She is beginning to compose her own prayers, now, and usually she wants to pray for someone who's sick. But she makes a profound mistake every time. "Thank you, God, for Sage to get well." In her five-year-old syntax, she verbalizes her prayer not as a request, but as a thanksgiving.
I wonder, really, whether it's a mistake at all -- or indication of child-like trust.
You know what I think? I've been trying to teach my little girl how to pray; suddenly, she's teaching me.
Finally, a few months ago, she began to pray out loud by repeating my prayers. You know what it's like when you make a cell phone call and can hear your own echo in the background? Very distracting. Well, that's what praying with Bella was like for several months as she warmed up to the idea of praying out loud: me praying, Bella echoing.
She is beginning to compose her own prayers, now, and usually she wants to pray for someone who's sick. But she makes a profound mistake every time. "Thank you, God, for Sage to get well." In her five-year-old syntax, she verbalizes her prayer not as a request, but as a thanksgiving.
I wonder, really, whether it's a mistake at all -- or indication of child-like trust.
You know what I think? I've been trying to teach my little girl how to pray; suddenly, she's teaching me.
Talk about a good mail day ...
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Woohoo! Passports arrived today, much more quickly than anticipated! (If I had a working digital camera, I'd post a LOVELY photo). The kids and I were really excited. The passports were mailed in separate envelopes, so each of the kids opened their own, which was pretty cool. (Of course, they both griped about how they looked in their pictures; in reality, the pictures were pretty good.) Anyway, we're one more tiny step forward toward a site visit to Ireland.
Another cool thing -- the World Harvest newsletter came in the same batch of mail, and there's an article in it on the Mission Apprenticeship Team (one of the teams we plan to visit). It was neat to read about aspects of the team's ministry and challenges we hadn't yet talked with them about.
Well, I promise to blog on a different topic next time. Some options: what I'm doing when I'm not blogging; "the book list"; sights I've noticed along HWY 411 that have given me cause to wonder; some great bit of poetry. Hmmm -- wonder which one it will be.
Another cool thing -- the World Harvest newsletter came in the same batch of mail, and there's an article in it on the Mission Apprenticeship Team (one of the teams we plan to visit). It was neat to read about aspects of the team's ministry and challenges we hadn't yet talked with them about.
Well, I promise to blog on a different topic next time. Some options: what I'm doing when I'm not blogging; "the book list"; sights I've noticed along HWY 411 that have given me cause to wonder; some great bit of poetry. Hmmm -- wonder which one it will be.
'Aha moment' at the Sonship conference
Monday, November 19, 2007
Meredith Elder, a World Harvest staffer with whom Steven and I were priviledged to spend an hour each day during Sonship week, asked me to jot down my thoughts about my "aha moment" that week. This is what I sent to him. Thought I'd share it on the ole blogoroni, as well.
"Remembering Sonship Week"
Following a seven-hour drive from our home state of Alabama to the mountains of North Carolina, I arrived at World Harvest’s Sonship conference feeling very expectant. After a difficult year of life and ministry, I trusted that God would use this experience to provide encouragement and healing for both my husband and myself. What I didn’t expect (but, admittedly, probably should have) was the powerful call to surrender – and the overwhelming grace to comply -- that I experienced the fourth morning of the trip.
The week, up to that point, had been solidly good; it was one of neither emotional highs nor lows – just incredible teaching, sweet (though sometimes intense) interactions, and a solid remembering of the gospel. Oh, and along the way, the whisper in our ears that we should perhaps consider a future in missions. “Missions?” Only weeks prior, the thought would have seemed unfathomable to me. But God was opening doors, and we were curiously and obediently walking through them.
And that’s about the point at which, on Thursday morning, Scotty Smith stood up to speak and, in the course of his teaching, made a statement I’d heard him make multiple times during the week: “We live our lives giving God a bit part in our story, when the reality is, we’re a character in His.” All week long, that statement had captured my attention; finally, it captured my heart.
Now, I’m no expert on the Holy Spirit and how He works in our lives, but I was certain in that moment that God was calling me to surrender my own plans, expectations and fears, to be willing to go anywhere He would call. And I knew, in that moment, that God might really be calling us overseas, and that by His grace He had granted me not only a willingness but a desire to go.
My excitement about the possibilities grows as the weeks wear on and we correspond with World Harvest teams in Europe. At the same time, I hold on to the dream lightly, because God, ultimately, is the only one who knows His plan, and He calls me to surrender to it not just in one miraculous moment, but every moment of every day.
"Remembering Sonship Week"
Following a seven-hour drive from our home state of Alabama to the mountains of North Carolina, I arrived at World Harvest’s Sonship conference feeling very expectant. After a difficult year of life and ministry, I trusted that God would use this experience to provide encouragement and healing for both my husband and myself. What I didn’t expect (but, admittedly, probably should have) was the powerful call to surrender – and the overwhelming grace to comply -- that I experienced the fourth morning of the trip.
The week, up to that point, had been solidly good; it was one of neither emotional highs nor lows – just incredible teaching, sweet (though sometimes intense) interactions, and a solid remembering of the gospel. Oh, and along the way, the whisper in our ears that we should perhaps consider a future in missions. “Missions?” Only weeks prior, the thought would have seemed unfathomable to me. But God was opening doors, and we were curiously and obediently walking through them.
And that’s about the point at which, on Thursday morning, Scotty Smith stood up to speak and, in the course of his teaching, made a statement I’d heard him make multiple times during the week: “We live our lives giving God a bit part in our story, when the reality is, we’re a character in His.” All week long, that statement had captured my attention; finally, it captured my heart.
Now, I’m no expert on the Holy Spirit and how He works in our lives, but I was certain in that moment that God was calling me to surrender my own plans, expectations and fears, to be willing to go anywhere He would call. And I knew, in that moment, that God might really be calling us overseas, and that by His grace He had granted me not only a willingness but a desire to go.
My excitement about the possibilities grows as the weeks wear on and we correspond with World Harvest teams in Europe. At the same time, I hold on to the dream lightly, because God, ultimately, is the only one who knows His plan, and He calls me to surrender to it not just in one miraculous moment, but every moment of every day.
Only Bella (and maybe Gracie Sharp)
Saturday, November 17, 2007
My daughter (the five-year-old) is proudly marching around the backyard in a red-and-white-striped Christmas shirt, silky leopard-print pajama shorts, and red "leather" boots that reach about mid-calf. Ya gotta love her sense of style!
A quick moment from the Sonship conference
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Well, suddenly I find that I have about five minutes to blog here at the Sonship conference in North Carolina. (WIFI is available only in the main lodge, not in our rooms, where there is no tv, radio or cell phone access. Simple living. Lovely.)
Anyway, since time is short, I'll just write at this juncture about the session this morning that really excited me. It was in this session that a World Harvest staffer, Ruthann Batstone, said some very profound things about forgiveness. She painted a picture of forgiveness that made it more beautiful to me than it ever has been before. "As we forgive, we get to be a character and a carrier of God's story," Ruthann said. "There's a taste of glory that we give when we forgive someone. It's a moment of worship -- a transaction where we do for someone else what God did for us." The reconciliation that comes when we forgive others -- or seek their forgiveness of us -- is an amazing representation of the reconciliation that happens for us with God because of what Christ did for us on the cross. In that way, forgiveness becomes a picture of the gospel to the world. I ignore forgiveness. I don't forgive others well. I don't seek forgiveness well (from God or anyone else). In fact, forgiveness hasn't carried much weight for me, and all too often it's been something I simply just ignore. Now, I find myself wanting to fly to it.
Well, more to come later on Sonship. Not a spiritual high, which I'm glad of. Just a new remembering of the gospel.
Anyway, since time is short, I'll just write at this juncture about the session this morning that really excited me. It was in this session that a World Harvest staffer, Ruthann Batstone, said some very profound things about forgiveness. She painted a picture of forgiveness that made it more beautiful to me than it ever has been before. "As we forgive, we get to be a character and a carrier of God's story," Ruthann said. "There's a taste of glory that we give when we forgive someone. It's a moment of worship -- a transaction where we do for someone else what God did for us." The reconciliation that comes when we forgive others -- or seek their forgiveness of us -- is an amazing representation of the reconciliation that happens for us with God because of what Christ did for us on the cross. In that way, forgiveness becomes a picture of the gospel to the world. I ignore forgiveness. I don't forgive others well. I don't seek forgiveness well (from God or anyone else). In fact, forgiveness hasn't carried much weight for me, and all too often it's been something I simply just ignore. Now, I find myself wanting to fly to it.
Well, more to come later on Sonship. Not a spiritual high, which I'm glad of. Just a new remembering of the gospel.
Next week, huh?
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
As you may know, Ron and Gail Clegg (former missionaries to Hungary) ministered at our church this weekend, and we were blessed to have them come to our home for a while on Saturday night. After talking with us about our experience and struggles at and since Church Planting Assessment, they strongly suggested that we attend an upcoming World Harvest Sonship week. The CPC session approved our attendance, so we'll be leaving on Sunday for North Carolina, where we'll be immersed in the gospel. (For those of you who've read my husband's blog, don't be thrown off by the "kick back in the mountains" claim he made to you; he told me to be prepared to be broken down first, then built back up in the gospel. It ain't gonna be no picnic.) Anyway, I'm expecting lovely things to happen (assuming I can accomplish everything I suddenly now have to accomplish by Saturday, and we can keep the kids and ourselves free of all the sickness going around). But I just had to share something that occurred to me yesterday:
Dates we attended church planting assessment in 2006
Oct. 22-Oct. 26
Dates we'll attend World Harvest Sonship week in 2007
Oct. 21-Oct. 26
hmmmm ... seems kind of mysterious to me (or at the least, very ironic).
Dates we attended church planting assessment in 2006
Oct. 22-Oct. 26
Dates we'll attend World Harvest Sonship week in 2007
Oct. 21-Oct. 26
hmmmm ... seems kind of mysterious to me (or at the least, very ironic).
Beautiful Baby Brianna
Monday, October 15, 2007
I've been meaning to learn how to post a photo of my newest little niece (now six months old, ahem). Finally, when I updated to the new blogger, I realized how easy it is. So here she is. Her name is Brianna (pronounced Bre-ah-na), her parents are my brother Billy and sister-in-law Bianca, and she lives in Texas. I never see any of them, and that makes me very sad.
Things I want you to know about my mother
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Today is Oct. 2. If my mom were still living, it would be her birthday. She would be 62.
My mom has been gone for more than 10 years, now, though. And as I was thinking about her tonight, it occurred to me -- most of the friends who read my blog never got to meet her. There are things I want you to know about her. So in a twist on the classic "things you don't know about me" blog-list, here's "things I want you to know that you probably don't know about my mother."
1. She had an amazing sense of humor. Very ready, and very dry.
2. She was patient and gentle. Really, I don't think I can ever remember her raising her voice. (Of course, she wasn't raising us kids, either. I never lived with her once I was past the age of 4, or maybe 5, so it wasn't a typical mother/child, 24-hour-a-day relationship. But still, even when I was an adult, I never knew her to lose her temper about anything. I think that's remarkable.)
3. She had a seductive voice.
4. She was a talented writer and artist, though she was never formally trained as either. Regarding writing: She could write circles around me (science fiction and mystery short stories were her favorite genres to write, I seem to remember). Regarding art: Pen and ink was her favorite medium. She would create incredibly detailed drawings (again, science-fictionish), but I also vividly remember her coloring geometric designs with markers and also making home-made paper dolls for me.
5. She was a bookworm. Loved to read.
6. Though she had only a 9th-grade education, she was a scholar. Very intelligent.
7. You would have enjoyed conversations with her. She was interested in and knowledgable about so many things. That, coupled with her sense of humor (see #1), made her a great conversationalist.
8. My children called her Gran-Gran. She only met Emma and Eli, but of all my children, Aden is probably most like her.
9. Twenty years after they divorced, she still loved my dad.
10. She noticed Steven's beautiful green eyes even before I did. She thought they were the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen.
11. Her favorite "gospel" song was "Mansion Over the Hilltop" -- to which I know all the words.
12. She was opinionated, but open-minded.
13. She valued friendship highly, but solitude re-energized her.
14. She was incredibly brave. At last count, she had 14 debilitating heart and lung illnesses.
15. She was all about showing some grace to people. Very non-judgmental.
16. She called me Sister.
17. The last time I ever hugged her, she smelled like baby powder.
Momma wasn't perfect: don't misunderstand. But my memories of her are sweet, and these are the things I celebrate about her.
My mom has been gone for more than 10 years, now, though. And as I was thinking about her tonight, it occurred to me -- most of the friends who read my blog never got to meet her. There are things I want you to know about her. So in a twist on the classic "things you don't know about me" blog-list, here's "things I want you to know that you probably don't know about my mother."
1. She had an amazing sense of humor. Very ready, and very dry.
2. She was patient and gentle. Really, I don't think I can ever remember her raising her voice. (Of course, she wasn't raising us kids, either. I never lived with her once I was past the age of 4, or maybe 5, so it wasn't a typical mother/child, 24-hour-a-day relationship. But still, even when I was an adult, I never knew her to lose her temper about anything. I think that's remarkable.)
3. She had a seductive voice.
4. She was a talented writer and artist, though she was never formally trained as either. Regarding writing: She could write circles around me (science fiction and mystery short stories were her favorite genres to write, I seem to remember). Regarding art: Pen and ink was her favorite medium. She would create incredibly detailed drawings (again, science-fictionish), but I also vividly remember her coloring geometric designs with markers and also making home-made paper dolls for me.
5. She was a bookworm. Loved to read.
6. Though she had only a 9th-grade education, she was a scholar. Very intelligent.
7. You would have enjoyed conversations with her. She was interested in and knowledgable about so many things. That, coupled with her sense of humor (see #1), made her a great conversationalist.
8. My children called her Gran-Gran. She only met Emma and Eli, but of all my children, Aden is probably most like her.
9. Twenty years after they divorced, she still loved my dad.
10. She noticed Steven's beautiful green eyes even before I did. She thought they were the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen.
11. Her favorite "gospel" song was "Mansion Over the Hilltop" -- to which I know all the words.
12. She was opinionated, but open-minded.
13. She valued friendship highly, but solitude re-energized her.
14. She was incredibly brave. At last count, she had 14 debilitating heart and lung illnesses.
15. She was all about showing some grace to people. Very non-judgmental.
16. She called me Sister.
17. The last time I ever hugged her, she smelled like baby powder.
Momma wasn't perfect: don't misunderstand. But my memories of her are sweet, and these are the things I celebrate about her.
Looking back, and looking forward
Saturday, September 29, 2007
On Thursday night, I cried.
You may not think that's anything odd (though, actually, I don't cry that often). But these tears were for something that happened almost a year go.
They weren't violent tears. Just real ones.
Real tears, for real pain. Real hurt. Real scars.
Church planting assessment has haunted me. Not just the outcome. The very process itself.
Often, I've felt quite hopeless.
But God is faithful, and on Friday he encouraged me through the following scripture, sent by a friend to Steven and me:
"For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord. I Cor. 1:26-31
I'm afraid, in my hurt, I've been denying the power of God. We are indeed foolish, but he is wise. We are indeed weak, but he is powerful. We are indeed lowly, but he reigns. And Life is filled with hope.
You may not think that's anything odd (though, actually, I don't cry that often). But these tears were for something that happened almost a year go.
They weren't violent tears. Just real ones.
Real tears, for real pain. Real hurt. Real scars.
Church planting assessment has haunted me. Not just the outcome. The very process itself.
Often, I've felt quite hopeless.
But God is faithful, and on Friday he encouraged me through the following scripture, sent by a friend to Steven and me:
"For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord. I Cor. 1:26-31
I'm afraid, in my hurt, I've been denying the power of God. We are indeed foolish, but he is wise. We are indeed weak, but he is powerful. We are indeed lowly, but he reigns. And Life is filled with hope.
My seven
Friday, September 21, 2007
Well, friends, I'm sure that my failure to be "tagged" for one of the many various lists in blogworld is due only to my prolonged absence from the blogging scene; therefore, I've decided to shock you all, tag myself and blog my "seven." So here they are ... the seven things you don't know about me.
1.I love the taste of the chocolate pudding in Kid's Cuisine microwavable dinners, and on the rare occasions where I actually purchase these, I secretly eat a spoonful of the pudding before serving the dinners to my kids.
2. I absolutely cannot look at the photos in decorating catalogs/magazines without reading the titles of the books pictured on the shelves and coffee tables. (I've even been known to use a magnifying glass.)
3. I once had a short-lived romance with a Guatamalan named Juan. He was 15, I was 14, and we were both staying the night at the home of my schoolmate, Cindy. Juan was a swimmer with a Guatamalan swim team, here in the states for an international competition of sorts; Cindy's dad was the swim coach at Jeff State Community College, and Juan was staying with Cindy's family during his time in the states. It happened to be during this time that Cindy celebrated her birthday with a spend-the-night party, to which I and several other friends were invited. First stop for the party was the local ice rink for ice-skating; I spent most of the evening being chased by Juan. Other than that, we kissed once (my 14-year-old daughter DID NOT READ THAT), and he gave me a stuffed raccoon to remember him by. Several weeks later, he called me from Guatamala, but I was home alone, wasn't sure how long-distance fees were handled, and wouldn't talk to him. A month or so after that, I got a Christmas card from him written all over with about a hundred "I Love Yous." That was the end of it ... well, almost. Juan called our house one more time and asked to speak with me, but I wasn't there. You see, seven years had gone by, I was 21, and Steven and I had just gotten married.
4. I didn't say a single curse word til I was about 30. I've more than made up for it.
5. I can identify even lesser-known paintings of Piet Mondrian, Claude Monet, Mary Cassatt, Joan Miro, Paul Klee, Vincent Van Gogh, Paul Cezanne, Ferdinand Leger, Jacob Lawrence, Jackson Pollack, Marc Chagall, Jan Vermeer, Edgar Degas, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Romare Bearden, Winslow Homer, Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, Salvador Dali, Pieter Brueghel, Wassily Kandinsky, Auguste Macke, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol, Rene Magritte, Edouard Vuillard, Jasper Johns, Paul Gauguin, Albrecht Durer, Thomas Cole, and more artists simply by looking at the style of the work, but I can count on one hand the number of songs from the 70s, 80s and 90s whose lyrics I know by memory.
6. I like to wear only solid-color shirts when I hang out around the house.
7. I remember having only one birthday party when I was a kid. (If you remember my favorite memories post, you'll know it was the year I turned 12 and we played Pin the Moustache on Shaun Cassidy. Dah-Do-Run-Run-Run, Dah-Do-Run-Run.)
And here's a bonus one -- (which I feel compelled to include because I came up with two when I needed only one more, and because my hubby may not know it).
8. When I was a little girl, my favorite song was Puff the Magic Dragon. (Oh, and I don't know all the lyrics to that one, either.)
1.I love the taste of the chocolate pudding in Kid's Cuisine microwavable dinners, and on the rare occasions where I actually purchase these, I secretly eat a spoonful of the pudding before serving the dinners to my kids.
2. I absolutely cannot look at the photos in decorating catalogs/magazines without reading the titles of the books pictured on the shelves and coffee tables. (I've even been known to use a magnifying glass.)
3. I once had a short-lived romance with a Guatamalan named Juan. He was 15, I was 14, and we were both staying the night at the home of my schoolmate, Cindy. Juan was a swimmer with a Guatamalan swim team, here in the states for an international competition of sorts; Cindy's dad was the swim coach at Jeff State Community College, and Juan was staying with Cindy's family during his time in the states. It happened to be during this time that Cindy celebrated her birthday with a spend-the-night party, to which I and several other friends were invited. First stop for the party was the local ice rink for ice-skating; I spent most of the evening being chased by Juan. Other than that, we kissed once (my 14-year-old daughter DID NOT READ THAT), and he gave me a stuffed raccoon to remember him by. Several weeks later, he called me from Guatamala, but I was home alone, wasn't sure how long-distance fees were handled, and wouldn't talk to him. A month or so after that, I got a Christmas card from him written all over with about a hundred "I Love Yous." That was the end of it ... well, almost. Juan called our house one more time and asked to speak with me, but I wasn't there. You see, seven years had gone by, I was 21, and Steven and I had just gotten married.
4. I didn't say a single curse word til I was about 30. I've more than made up for it.
5. I can identify even lesser-known paintings of Piet Mondrian, Claude Monet, Mary Cassatt, Joan Miro, Paul Klee, Vincent Van Gogh, Paul Cezanne, Ferdinand Leger, Jacob Lawrence, Jackson Pollack, Marc Chagall, Jan Vermeer, Edgar Degas, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Romare Bearden, Winslow Homer, Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, Salvador Dali, Pieter Brueghel, Wassily Kandinsky, Auguste Macke, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol, Rene Magritte, Edouard Vuillard, Jasper Johns, Paul Gauguin, Albrecht Durer, Thomas Cole, and more artists simply by looking at the style of the work, but I can count on one hand the number of songs from the 70s, 80s and 90s whose lyrics I know by memory.
6. I like to wear only solid-color shirts when I hang out around the house.
7. I remember having only one birthday party when I was a kid. (If you remember my favorite memories post, you'll know it was the year I turned 12 and we played Pin the Moustache on Shaun Cassidy. Dah-Do-Run-Run-Run, Dah-Do-Run-Run.)
And here's a bonus one -- (which I feel compelled to include because I came up with two when I needed only one more, and because my hubby may not know it).
8. When I was a little girl, my favorite song was Puff the Magic Dragon. (Oh, and I don't know all the lyrics to that one, either.)
Salter update
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Dustin Salter (see previous post) went to be with the Lord on March 19. Please continue to pray for God's grace and provision to be showered on Dustin's wife, Leigh Anne, and their children; they have a difficult journey ahead of them.
Pray for the Salter family
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Dustin Salter is a pastor who, until late last year, was a campus minister with Reformed University Fellowship. He was taking a bike ride with two of his children when he hit a bump, wrecked, and suffered severe brain injuries. I was reading Mitch (McGinnis') church blog one night several months ago and linked to a blog (www.redeemerchurch.net/dustin/) which gives updates on Dustin's condition. I check the updates periodically and pray for Dustin and his family, but each time I do, I'm struck by the many difficult mental, emotional and physical challenges his wife and children undoubtedly are experiencing. The link's here for you, that you might pray for his healing and his family's sustenance as well.
I'm thankful to be a part of the larger body of Christ.
I'm thankful to be a part of the larger body of Christ.
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