Flashback

He had hung a fragment of carpet over the entrance to the office. It served as a crude curtain, to separate him from inquiring minds in the businesses foyer. He needed privacy. I hesitated to bolster my nerves before pushing it aside. A deep breath....
It was quite heavy, really. Effective.
I don't remember what I was looking for. Paperwork of some kind; either for the attorney general, or the tax commission. A visit to his files was in order. It was a task that fell to me, since he was in jail.
I leaned into the carpet-curtain.
The office beyond was littered with trash, so deep. I kept losing my footing because of the shifting papers beneath my feet. They were mostly magazines, That kind of magazine. A thousand pairs of hopeless eyes gazed sightlessly up at me from the glossy pages.
The place was silent.
Such a barrage to my reeling senses, that the smell was the last thing that registered in my catalogue of sensations. Revulsion was among the first. A staggering horror. Confusion. Then the musty smell from layers of damp garbage.
Why was it damp?
The filing cabinet was largely empty. The papers I needed, unfortunately, seemed mixed among the periodicals.
So I began to rummage.
I found a hypodermic needle, and then another. One more call to the police seemed to be in order. There were other things amid the trash, things I didn't recognise, but knew a nice girl shouldn't see. They were used. The papers were nowhere to be found, and the mess was driving me past the point of utter despair.
Digging was obviously a matter of personal endangerment, even were I to avoid more drug-polluted needles, the spores of mold wafting into my every breath must cause some endangerment to my life. And the filth...
I called the police, yet again, and staggered back to the safety of my car.
My eyes were dry. There were no tears left.

Lessons from Cujo

My past 48 hours have been an erratic parade of emotional experiences. Most of the melee involved a dog bite. Fortunately, the consequences seem to be working themselves out, with very little to worry about it the rabies department. And that is about all I am going to say on that matter, because frankly, it's already taken way more of my breathless anxiety that I could spare.

One thing I've noticed, is that God really enjoys having my undivided attention. He does seem to orchestrate my circumstances to keep me rather desperate for Him. I keep finding myself in uniquely appointed situations, where I am hanging on the hem of His Robe, so to speak. That awareness of my own need for Him is really priceless.
Nobody in their right mind chooses to suffer, yet God weaves suffering into the fiber of our existence so that we can grow. It's that analogy of "pruning" we so often find in Scripture. He has to trim away those parts which are impeding the health of the whole.
I think of the process of His discipline with a cringe, largely because I expect punishment. However, punishment is not the lot of those of us who have been purchased by His Blood. "Discipline" as we experience it is not punishment, but a series of consequences which train us to behave, and believe, differently. It's quite productive, actually.

In thinking about my weekend, I am struck by the fact that God has used my circumstances, which were not even a matter of personal disobedience, as a means by which to discipline me. No punishment at all, simply training.

Often, I find that He is teaching me something that seems to be unrelated.

Yesterday, I was praying, and I said, "God, I really need You to speak to me today," and I opened my bible at random. It said something about how whether I live or die, I belong to Him.
So, I said, "Thanks, Lord, but I was actually needing something more...Psalm-ish. Tell me You love me, and that every thing's going to be ok." So I turned again at random, and fell upon almost the exact same words in another passage. And, because I am really Spiritually astute, I thought, "hmmmmm, I'll bet that's no mistake."
The lesson?
I am not my own, He bought me. I belong to Him. Any circumstances that flow into my existence, are His Divine right to allow. It's up to me to keep my eyes fast upon Him, and to refuse anxiety.
So, off I go to meet the day's giants and dragons. I am armed with the assurance that whether I live or die, I am the Lord's!

Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, O My!

O! There's so much that I want to talk about today, but look at the time. Here it's rapidly approaching 11 am, and I am barely functional. I shall have to limit myself to one topic, or two. I slept in, you see, until about 9. Then, I have been struggling for brainwave activity ever since.
I started drinking iced tea rather than coffee in the mornings. I didn't do it on purpose. It was just that the other day, I wanted something cold in the morning, and tea was available. I haven't had coffee in 3 days. I am having oodles of caffeine, though. Which is very fun.


How deliberately do you employ your imagination? Unless you are an artist of some kind, I would guess that imagination is something you have abandoned to the realm of small children.
I think it's something that should season the lives of Christians, though. I've been reading a lot in the Old Testament, and the books are full of fantastical stories. There are giants, and dragons, and magic. People fly in flaming chariots, and are protected by invisible armies, the sun stands still, and animals speak.
There is a part of me, a very large part, that is emboldened by fairy tales. To find that the foundations of my real world, are more spectacular than childhood books, is a very exciting discovery.
It is my Creator who designed fire-breathing dragons. This God has an imagination that far surpasses my limited ability to dream. I want to be grander in my belief. My requests need to have a bolder flavor. You and I need to expect more of God, I think, and to expect more of ourselves.
My prayers are more often a checklist, than a conversation pregnant with expectation and wonder. Why is that? If my God can fashion a perfect man from the dust, then surely He can gift wrap one on my doorstep. Just kidding. But do you see my point?
How ought we to pray?
How ought we to think?
To live?
What if we functioned like the biblical heroes of old? Are we really different from them? I don't think so. Our God is the same. What Power is at our fingertips! What majesty surrounds us!
God, give me prayers that will electrify this space in time that I occupy. Strip my eyes of the shades which blind me to the armies which surround me. Fire my days with dragons and giants, that Your Magical Wonder would be Evident, both to me, and to those who are watching.
Never allow me to forget for a moment that I am part of an Epic tale of Profound Importance.
Amen, and amen.

Not really a post

I am going to have to write in the morning, after I sleep extensively. For some reason, I am deliriously tired.
Perhaps it's because I keep staying up way beyond my bedtime of 8:30. Do you have any idea of how happy and well adjusted I'd be if I got to sleep at 8:30 every evening? Such is not my lot. I am lately overwhelmed with the need to blog at 10:30 pm. Very inconvenient.
So, as I said, I'll write you in the morning. About....something.

In which I compare movies and wine, and I manage to mention God

SO, you know how I wait a decade or so after a movie comes out to actually see it? I have this robust imagination, see, and so I really do not need many movies. Not fresh, anyway.
And if I die, the good wines are in my closet, under the lingerie thingy. Because they should age, too.
I finally worked up to seeing The Count of Monte Cristo. Loved it. Thanks for the recommendation, Kara. Now I am ready to get kissed, which is the unfortunate effect that romantic movies have on my discontented self. I was all happy with my single life, and then BAM! Mercedes finds her true love. I'm ruined.

What is it about the romance that is so darned distracting? It's the beauty, I think. The thrill and the adventure.
I'm going to bring up God now, and if that annoys you, then you are really reading the wrong blog. Seriously.
God fires in me the grand appetite for the sublime. It's because He is the pinnacle of all that can take my breath away, and He leaves this trail that leads only to Him. He is beauty and adventure. He is passion and danger. He is Warrior and Poet. He is Mystery and Imagination. His desire is for Me.
No wonder all men pale in comparison.
But, O! If there were such a man!
...Then I guess I could have both.
And I would be insufferably happy.
And you would have to hate me.

It's Greek to Me

In a foreign land, far away and over the Sea, there are people who are utterly consumed with the business of avoiding all conversation about others. These people speak exclusively on the one topic they qualify as authorities on:
Self.

Just this very evening, I happened to converse with a delightful woman, who recently visited this strange place. She told me harrowing tales of conversations in which the other participant asked no questions at all about her. Can you imagine? These people dined with her, and toured historical sights, indeed, they made lifelong memories! However, they've no idea who the beautiful woman was, who showed such interest in them because they never once asked.

For all they know, she was the Queen of France, or a Silver Screen Star.

They missed knowing a woman of surpassing grace and wisdom. They missed hearing thoughtful insight into their lives! They never knew that they were chatting mindlessly to a Spiritual Giant. A woman who has influenced generations for Jesus. A woman whose life of faithfulness has really mattered!

And I was convicted, in this conversation.
So often I speak about Self, instead of listening to others. I indulge my whims when I should serve the needs of others. I blab, when I should heed. I talk, when listening is called for. Who knows how many Giants have crossed my path, when I was too focused on my petty pleasure, to see beyond my own nose? Alas!

6 Months pregnant?

Nope, just eating my way through my 30's.
I may never eat again.
More Pumpkin cheesecake? Yep, that was me.
Also chocolate cupcakes. Whose momma made her chocolate cupcakes, with pink and green sprinkles on the frosting, for her 38th birthday?
Whose momma also made red potato salad from scratch? With pork roast? And also bread with butter and wine and cheese? Hate her.
My mother said, "Honey, you can diet on Monday."
My sister said, "Honey, you can diet between meals."
I am never eating again.

38

Some of my friends gave me gifts last night.
I got a massive overdose of calories from Soubanh's cooking. They served me my two most favorite pies in all the world: German Chocolate Cream Pie from Marie Calendar's, and Pumpkin Cheesecake from Tim's. I ate myself into a state of exquisite discomfort.
They gave me flowers, books, wine, chocolate, a sushi serving set, bath salts and lotion. Call me Spoiled. Apparently my deepest delights are well known to those who know me. Who wears her heart on her sleeve?

Also? The river trip, the one I have no photos from? Very fun. We nearly died repeatedly. We rented a six-man raft for 7 women. Me and Jenine rowed to keep us out of danger...ostensibly. We used our powers to hit all of the most dangerous spots we could find. No one fell out, though, although we did receive a beating from overhanging branches on several occasions. I think Kara will bear the scars from that for her entire, oh...week, at least.

My resolution for this next year of my life, is to be worthy of the friends that God has given me. I have a large circle of people who love me deeply and well. This is something that they do selflessly and often. I live my life with the full assurance that I am propped up by people who are willing to love me with their resources, their time, and their hearts.
How did I get to be so blessed? So often I am flighty, distracted, and inconsiderate to these people. Their example humbles me. I want to be made better by the consideration of it.

Party Weekend

In celebration of the very last day I shall ever be 37, my girlfriends and I are going rafting down the torrential, freezing, death-defying Boise River. No doubt, this would be a splendid photo opportunity. However, I am not planning to take a camera along in such threatening conditions. I may endanger my existence, but never my technology.
The trek we'll be taking is, in fact, a leisurely 6-mile-ride.
The forecast promises a day near one hundred degrees, and that is as it must be. Any cooler, and the water is unpleasantly frigid. As it is, we will likely spend a great deal of time seeking to avoid the water itself. We'll rent a raft and oars, and we'll take along a cooler. Sunscreen will be liberally applied. Then, we'll begin the hilarity.
Lisa is coming along as our in-raft safety technician. She will be the only adult on the river in a life vest, and she'll carry along a cell phone in a Ziploc bag for emergencies.
Jenine-the-wise will no doubt cause Lisa no end of concern by daredevil acts like jumping off of bridges and cliffs along the way.
Kara will whine about the cold, and will avoid all rowing, as that would be hard work.
I will laugh at them, and with them. I intend to have a glorious time.
Like a 5-year-old, I have had my swimming suit on since I got up this morning. I have the cooler packed, and my sunscreen on. I am watching the minutes slowly plod on, and I can't seem to will the clock to go faster.
I love my birthday!

Gas Prices

If I fill my tank once a week for the next year,
at 4.00 a gallon,
I'll spend 3536.00 on gas.
At 5.00, it's 4420.00.

So, If I only fill up every other week, I could save 1768.00 over the next year
Or 2210.00 at 5.00.

You?

Let's hear it for the boys

I like very much when people come over hungry. I get that Jewish Mother thing going on, where I want to feed people to show them that I love them.
Do not ever tell me that you are not hungry, because this is what I'll hear, "I hate your food." Then I will speak in a sort of Italian accent and say "Why you not eating? You hate-a my cooking? Why you no love me?"
Seriously, I should eat more and wear an apron. Then I could guilt you into coming home more, and also into joining me in corpulence. This is why God gave me boys. Never could a woman-child eat so much as these young men.

Yesterday, after I had cried all night so my eyes were swollen and red, and I was functioning on two hours of sleep, my son said, "Mom, you look pretty." This is also why God gave me boys. That single compliment kept me from homicide all day long.

Plus, also, too, as well, they can get a bunch of work done in one afternoon when there's something they want to be allowed to do. I love that God gave me boys.

My side of the story

Yesterday, when I wrote to you about stillness, was the calm before a bit of a personal storm. Isn't that how it goes?

M' was due home from his days of bear hunting last night. The itinerary said that his group was leaving camp at noon, and would return home between 8 and 9 pm. I sat in the living room with my book and a blanket awaiting his triumphant return. He did not arrive by 9. He did not arrive by 11. By midnight, I was nervous.
Obviously, they must be running late.
Perhaps they got a bear at the last minute and were delayed with that. I shouldn't over-react, after all, he was in good hands. Besides, they had no cell phone coverage in the woods.
By 1:30, I was in tears.

Once, when I was 5, I had to walk home to the house of a babysitter. I lost my way, and sat on the curb in bewildered tears. I knew I couldn't walk back to the school, but didn't know which was the way to the house. I was afraid of getting in trouble, and I was so scared of being lost.
This is exactly how I felt by 1:30 am last night.

There's few things worse than an hysterical, over-protective mother, especially to a teenage young man. We mustn't overreact.
I kept telling myself that he must be fine, and I should relax and go to bed. Or perhaps I got his arrival day wrong.
At 2, I called non-emergency police dispatch, just to see if there had been an accident. "Nope, lady, I'm sure he'll be home soon." I called the sheriff's department up in Northern Idaho. No reports. I called the hunting lodge, and got an answering service.
He must have been in a car wreck. Or had a remote hunting accident. FIVE HOURS late!But there was nothing I could do until morning. I tell you truly that I have rarely felt so utterly alone and so completely helpless.
I crawled into bed at 2:30, and cried until I couldn't breathe. My very eyelids felt as if they were in danger of turning inside-out.
Perhaps I dozed.
The phone jolted me back to the unpleasant reality at 3:30. M' was calling, he was 2 hours away. They just got cell service. Why was I worried? Apparently, that was somewhat amusing. We lost the cell, and dropped the call.
The adult in charge called a few minutes later. "We decided to hunt more tonight, had no cell service, we'll have him home soon, and hour and a half, maybe 2."
Anger took me. How irresponsible! All the land lines for 500 miles were out of order? What?
At some point I dozed again, because he woke me when he traipsed in at 5:30. "Are you ok, mom? I told him we needed to call you." He told me his adventures for an hour. Then I sent him to bed.

Daycare kids arrived at 6:30. I gave them pillows and blankets and the couches in the living room. "Wake me by 8:30, if I am not awake by then."
I got two good hours of sleep.
My boy is home.
He got no bear, but a promise to go again in the Fall. I can hardly wait.

Rest

I have been much occupied with stillness. So much so, that even those tasks which require some effort, are weightless. It is a gift.
There is stillness in my home. It's cleanish, since I have no extra children underfoot.
I have few pillars in my day, so I have been sleeping later. I am no slave to a schedule. This is joyous.
I have time to think. And read. And to play.
I am reading Oliver Twist. The subject matter is bleak; the tale is sad.
O! But the words on the page! Perhaps I shall be in love with Charles Dickens next. His words are woven together beautifully. I inhale each phrase as an intoxicant. A word...a paragraph...a page! Sometimes I lose the flow of the story, and simply linger over a section which particularly captivates me.

Were we created to be in perpetual motion? Our culture is enslaved to the cell phone, and the agendas that we must not disobey. It's very noisy. It sucks us dry, like a monster. Nothing remains at the end of the day, save a lifeless shell with nothing to offer.
How can our people love, and serve, when there is nothing left to give?

These are my thoughts after a gleeful day. I feel refreshed.

Today I lounged in the sun, again. I actually watched two movies. I got out for one of those yummy shaved-ice things (without the children). I talked to a couple of dear friends. I had silence, even, in my day. It was glorious.
Now,I am going to snuggle up with Mr Dickens and a glass of vino.

A masterpiece of irony

The weather was saved from being too hot by a consistent breeze; a favorable zephyr which carried the none-too-fresh scent of my unwashed self down the beach. I was thinking myself quite European on account of the week-old growth on my legs, when I somehow fell to the consideration of lust. Ironic, no?
Does being married cure the wrestling match with lust? I decided it must not.
Indeed, if lust is a selfish condition of the heart, then it must have a considerable impact upon a marriage relationship.
Lust on the beach, is a lingering, and sinful, indulgence of imagination, with a victim who may be entirely unaware. Within the confines of matrimony, it could lead to infidelity, of course.
But, it would do other damage as well.
A lust-inclined heart is utterly selfish.
You must please me. Your purpose on this planet is to meet my needs, and if you fail, then I have the divine right to find the fulfillment of my desires elsewhere. Make me happy! Please me! Buy me what I want!
No wonder so many marriages fail. No wonder I so often fail.

20 minutes of sun on the front side. I checked to make sure the kids were still alive, and I turned over to cook the back of me.
And to consider the alternative to lust.
Love is about you, not me, and ultimately about God. That would be a wonderful heart-inclination to offer a spouse.
I must please you. My purpose on this planet is to serve God by meeting your needs. If ever you fail me, I have the divine right look to God Himself to meet my every need.
What about outside of marriage? As a single person I find that I vacillate between these two attitudes. If only I could focus the intention of my heart to love those around me, without demanding that they fill me up.

You'll be so relieved to know that I showered when I got home. And shaved. And then, I blogged.

Great Expectations

Joshua 10 is this morning's text.
Joshua leads the Israelite army on this all night march to war. God then pummels the enemy army with killer hailstones. Finally, the sun and moon stand still in the sky, to grant Israel extra time to defeat the enemy. All-in-all, it sounds like a really long day. One of the great miracles, is that these men had the stamina to keep going, through this exceptionally long battle.
How is it that all this miraculous activity is squeezed into the confines of one chapter?

Here I sit in my air conditioned home, comfortably poised on the receiving end of the 21st Century, and I wonder why my faith is so small.

There seems to be a pattern as I look at the defining moments in Joshua's life.
The greatest achievements,
the mind-blowing miracles,
the truly effective leadership,
All these come after consulting God and then doing things God's way.
The pattern is Prayer, Listening, Obedience.

Too often I Plan, Inform, and Proceed. I figure out what I want to get done, tell God what I am going to do, and assume that He'll follow along, as a puppy at my heel. Seeking His blessing is an afterthought to adorn my agenda.

I am in the service of the King. His Directives are my highest priority. Besides that, what can I possible have of importance? I must report for duty every morning to receive the day's marching orders. I must carefully consider His Words. Then I need to set out, and diligently do what I've been told to do. This is the recipe for a life laced with Miracles.

If He sends me on a wearisome all night march, I know that He must supply the strength.
If He sends me against a greater foe, I must fight well until He sees fit to rain His solution from Heaven.
If He gives me more than can be done in one day, I can trust Him to arrest the sun in her path.
These are the things my God can do...and more.

May I quote from Shakespeare?

"And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love and obey."

"...my hand is ready; may it do him ease."

Amen.

Abba

Daddy taught me to handle a gun, to ride a horse, and to buck hay. Life's like that in Idaho.

My step dad changes my furnace filters, and scolds me if I don't have my car serviced regularly.

I also have a wonderful Grandpa, and a number of fantastic male friends.

A girl can't have too many men in her life, I always say.

It's the father figures in my kids' lives that I'd like to talk about today.
My boys have grown up without their real dad. He left when my baby was 2, and my eldest was 4. He's been off the radar for the vast majority of their young lives. But they're lucky lads, these two. They have been surrounded by men who have been willing to inconvenience themselves to invest in these two.

They have grandpas, and uncles, and a consistent community of Christlike menfolk. I am grateful to more Selfless men than I can possibly adequately thank. But there's a few I'll risk mentioning.

To:
Scott, for treating M' as your own son
Soubanh, for parenting D' along with your kids
Mike, for mentoring M' in all things hunting related
Bill, for mentoring D' in his love for guitar
...Thank you for loving my boys.

Happy Father's Day, Gentlemen. It's a fine work you do.

The curse of Authority

The sun is announcing the tardy arrival of Spring; it's beautiful out my window. Part of me wants very much to go out for a run in the cool morning sunshine. That part of me is not my legs. My legs are dreadfully sore from yesterday's hike up a hill we call "camel's back." It's a steep climb, the sort of hill teens only sled down on a dare. Climbing it requires most of four limb; it's that steep. There's a muscle ache where I sit, and it commands my attention when I walk. Perhaps this would be a good day to work my arms.

I was reading, this morning, from my King James Version. This language thrills my soul. I find it so poetic as to fire my imagination as I read. If only the current trend toward IMing and texting hadn't eroded our language beyond recognition! Alas. I fear the beauty is lost forever.

There are language patterns in the KJV of the bible which are not necessarily evident in my other versions. By-the-way, I usually read the NAS. What do you prefer?

Similarities between Genesis 3:16 and 4:7 jumped out at me today.
The first passage is God speaking to Eve, and it's no gentle conversation. His words are a curse, and there is some debate among scholars as to the particulars of the meaning. "...Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee."

The second passage is God speaking to Cain. This is a warning to Cain, because God can see that Cain is furious, and conceiving murder in his intentions. God says, personifying sin, "...Unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."

Do you see the similarity in phrasing?
In the one passage, Eve desires Adam. Adam is going to rule Eve.
In the other, Sin desires Cain. Cain ought to rule Sin, but as we know from the rest of the story, Sin actually rules over Cain.
Ruling-over is a result of sin in both cases. Weird, huh?

I have no conclusions to offer, and no wise thoughts. I am mulling this over in my mind, and wondering what there is to be gleaned from this. Any ideas?

How I spent my day

I got to go shopping today. I charged a hundred dollars of clothing. Ordinarily, this would be really fun. However, all the clothing I bought was camouflaged and specific to the wilderness. It was all for my heretofore unemployed teenager. We need to get that boy a job, or a wealthy dad. Or we could get that boy's dad a wealthy job. Or something. His bear hunt begins Sunday. Don't forget to pray for him, k?

We have a little community in Boise called Hyde Park. Hyde Park is the really hip place to go if you are into organic living, or antiques. I am into antiques. One of my friends named Kris and I went hiking out in that area. We then decided to walk into the little funky cafe area for a lite breakfast. It was a beautiful morning for it.
Kris and I managed to fit a great deal into the morning. Exercise, a coffee house, and antiquing. I picked up a couple of little pictures and a book. The book is in Latin, and so it's for my collection. You can always buy old books in Latin for me, and very old bibles. The pictures were unframed sheets of paper in which I beheld a certain beauty. I'll frame them and call them art.
I ran into my cousin who lives in Australia, which was odd. You'd think Hyde Park was a long way to come for coffee. I had no idea she was on this hemisphere.
Wouldn't it be fun to be a jet-setter? I want to travel the world like that. She goes to China, and Australia, and then pops in at the States, with the same ease with which I run to the corner for milk.

The only way this day could have been better would have been if I could have gotten more sleep last night.
I stayed up too late to finish a book. It's called The Bancroft Strategy, and I highly recommend it. It's by the guy that wrote the Bourne movies, and so it's kind of a spy book. It's riveting, and there's nothing to blush about in it. Who wants to borrow it next?

Now I have to go get ready for that hot date. These handsome rich men won't leave me alone! Just kidding.
On the agenda is Sushi, chilled white wine, and a movie.
Have a great weekend, friends.

Back to basics

I am working on a study of the bible for a friend of mine who is just learning about it. This is something I've done before, but not in years. It's an opportunity to step way back and look at my faith from a fresh perspective.

In Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz, he talks about a college girl and her friend, who study their bibles with chocolates and cigarettes. I love the mental image that presents to me. All threat of cancer aside, there is a certain attitude of applying some relish to the delight of each of those activities. If you and I were to treat God's Word as a privilege and an indulgence, I think we'd find it more attractive. More delicious. We'd spend more time on it.
Maybe chocolate and cigarettes aren't your thing. What about Cigars and whiskey? Or Sushi and caviar? The point is the savoring of something so exquisite, as to be a sought out pleasure.
This is what I want in my pursuit of God.
After all, isn't God the One who chose the imagery of a Lover? If only I could allow God to Woo me! His words would run through my mind, and heart, like something tantalizing and captivating. My mind would rest on Him with a sense of thrilling expectation. My fascination with His every Word and Act, would border on the obsessive.
When I am attracted, I am distracted.
When a man has my attention, I have a hard time not thinking of him. This is, I think, partly why God uses this imagery in Scripture. He wants me to respond to Him with the same intensity and thrill.
This is what I see in my friend who is just learning about God. She is falling in love.
This is what I want to cultivate in myself. No marriage can afford to grow stale. No romance can sustain a fire without careful tending.
My goal for my faith is to Fan that Flame!
Cultivate desire.
Seek out the passion.
As I watch my friend learn to love Jesus, I want to see His beauty anew. And I want to be swept off my feet, again.

Personal Update

I went for a lovely morning run yesterday, which has the ability to color my mood all day. Exercises is good for my attitude. It used to be that I could tackle a four mile jog without much work. These days, I am not so ambitious. Right about the time I was hitting my stride, I realized that my knees hit theirs about a decade ago. Now they protest just as the rest of me is getting into the thing.

It was a good day, yesterday. I went to the Mall on a little shopping excursion. J.C.Penny loves me, as does Mervyn's. They each sent me a little gift card for my birthday, on account of I am such a good customer. I spent a grand total of 3$ from my wallet, and I got cool sunglasses, and a pair of shorts. Size 4 shorts. Which are a four in their size. As in, less than 5, yet more than 3. Who's a skinny girl?
You and I both know they are likely mismarked, but my self-esteem doesn't know that.

Much of the nation seems to have embraced Summertime weather, but here in the backwoods of Idaho, we're a tad bit chilly. It's the second week of June, and we're not yet warm enough to swim. We had Summer for a week and a half in May, but now my tan is fading. My birthday is right around the corner, and I hear there's a pool party planned, with a rafting excursion. This will be decidedly unpleasant if we keep the frigid temperatures.

Have I told you about how my eldest son is going hunting? He has a remarkable opportunity to hunt bear. So,next week you should pray for him. He'll be in the back country with wild animals, and a large caliber loaded weapon, and men who don't shower. Maybe the following week, I'll take him skydiving.

My house wants cleaning, and my little size-four self needs a bit of exercise. Have a wonderful day, Internet friends.

Thirsty, much?

I love wine.
Really, I do.
Generally, alcohol is just yummy. I was not raised to think of it as off-limits to Christians. I was raised with a serious respect for it's potency, and it's dangers. I was also raised to enjoy, and appreciate it's specialness as a drink.
Sometimes it does some really ugly things to people, and I hate that.
Personally, if I have more than two or three glasses of wine during the course of an evening, I have a hard time sleeping. I fall to sleep fine, to be sure, but I inevitably wake at 3 am. Wide awake, and I can't get back to sleep. It's very irritating. Then I have to to ponder at length, how stupid I was to pour "just one more" glass.
What about those people I know who drink a lot, when they get to drinking? Or drink 'til they're sick? Or drink 'til they injure themselves? Do I have a responsibility to these friends? What is my responsibility, exactly? I see why some Christians stay away from alcohol altogether!

Ephesians 5:18 says "Do not get drunk with wine, for that is dissipation, but be filled with the Spirit."
Dissipation is a funny word. The Greek is a compound word meaning "not" + "safe." It means that drinking too much puts me in danger. Another way to translate that would be "anti" + "salvation." I hardly want to do something that works in opposition to my very salvation!
But there's even more to the word than that. The English word "dissipation" refers to scattering and vanishing. Smoke dissipates, and so does fog. It vanishes into nothingness. Noah Webster says that this refers to "A dissolute, irregular course of life." Hardly becoming of a Christian.

Those among us who are weak do not need to be fortified with Rum. They need to be fortified with truth and grace and prayer. They need the Holy Spirit. When I've had a bad day, I love a glass of wine with a friend. But if I run to a friend for wine, I sure hope she'll turn me to Jesus, with my Shiraz.
Are wine and Jesus mutually exclusive? I think not.
However, I must be diligent to present myself to God as a worker who has no reason to be ashamed. That means that I handle my wine with a certain awareness of the dangers there. Like so many things that we enjoy: food, wine, TV, music, activity, these pleasures can take us where we do not wish to go, unless we moderate our behavior to be fully in submission to the God of Creation.
When we sin, we are not to wallow in the mire.
We are to confess, which means that we agree with God.
We are to repent, which means to turn from our actions.
We are to get to work, doing what we ought to do.

This totally sounds like I got hammered this weekend, as I read over it. Don't worry, I didn't. I could have, though. I am always one decision away from sin.
As are you.

Dr Freud

Vulnerability.
I am really not good at this, as I believe I've mentioned before. The first time a friend informed me that I was "stoic and vague" I thought she was kidding.
The view from within me is an explosion of passion and emotion. How is it that no one can see that mess?
Another friend referred to me as "fortress kelly" and pointed out that I tend to slam the portcullis to keep potential harm from getting to me.
Most recently, a dear friend taught me that this external lack of expression can even hurt people. She told me that when I am so guarded, I can actually cause fear in others. This is one of those things I really need to spend some time thinking about.
My current consideration of it has led me to some preliminary conclusions, though.
For an extrovert who talks too much, I am very surprisingly private. I'm quite annimated, don't get me wrong. But, those things which are closest to my heart are kept under lock and key. I don't necessarily wish to change that, to be honest.
The self-protective stuff needs to be evaluated. It becomes a question of trusting God to protect me. I also need to be alert to those times when I am being so guarded that it's hurting others.
However, there are some ways in which I wish to be even more private. Some ways that I think I need to keep more to myself.
It does continue to baffle and amuse me that so little of the deep stuff shows up on my exterior.
I guess what people want to see is that they are affecting me. I don't want people to know that they are affecting me. Not unless I trust them a great deal.
Someone asked me why I am not a hugger. The reason is that I am such a very physically expressive person that I, conversely, am averse to such casual physical contact. I think the emotional expression is a similar thing. I have a deeply emotional and passionate interior, so it's safer to restrain than to reveal it.
That was fairly transparent, huh?

Off to the Threshing Floor

Ah! How fickle is the heart of woman!
Just yesterday, I was enamoured of Joshua.
Today I want to marry Boaz.
The jump from the book of Joshua to that of Ruth was an easy tangent this morning. I read about the fall of Jerico, and the transfer of Rahab to the Israelite nation. Rahab begets Boaz.
So, I jumped on over to Ruth, and got a little sappy. That is such a romantic story!

There are very few examples of courtship in Scripture. They weren't big on dating back then.
There's the whole Rachel/Leah thing, which didn't work out so well for those girls. Rachel's part of the story is romantic, what with Jacob working 14 years to win her hand. However, I always get sidetracked by the sadness that is Leah's.
There's Rebekah's story, though that was an arranged marriage. Still, they had that love-at-first-sight.I have love-at-first-sight all the time. Just kidding.
Esther married the king after she won a beauty pageant. What woman wants to be married as a trophy?
Those are about the only examples of how to get a spouse that I can think of, beyond Ruth and Boaz.

Ruth fascinates me, because she is the instigator in this relationship. She gets all dolled up, in her pretty clothes and makeup. Then, she marches in to where Boaz had fallen asleep after a night of feasting and drinking. Once he wakes up, and notices that she is there, she basically proposes.
"Hey Handsome, you can have me if you want me. Whadaya say?"
That took a tremendous amount of courage, if you ask me. Either she was confident of his interest in her, and knew he needed a little help....or I don't know what. Can you imagine being that gutsy? I would die a thousand deaths, and swim the seven seas, before I'd snuggle up to a man who hadn't voiced interest in me. Which could explain why I'm still single.

Boaz is amazing. He must be a man of God. Clearly he has his finances in order. He is known as a man of affluence and influence. Plus, he notices the character of Ruth, and that is what draws him to her. He pays very close attention to her. He appreciates and respects the woman that she is. That tells me a lot about the man he was. Naomi understands him well. She tells Ruth that Boaz will resolve things quickly, "He won't rest until he's settled the matter this day." Boaz seems to be a man of action.
He is impressed by who she is, more than how she looks.
He pays very close attention to her, and meets the needs he can see.
He is concerned for her protection and her reputation, and he takes steps to shelter her.
He is just about giddy when he realizes her interest in him, and he quickly acts to make her his own.
I'm pretty much in love with him.

Johanna Banana Fee Fie Fo Fanna

Since I haven't posted quite enough yet today:

Johanna and I had a lovely conversation.
She and I have differing views on Politics, religion, modern morality....pretty much everything, except fashion. Yet, we have rarely had a conversation that bore an edge of tension. She is so tolerant in extending me grace. She is the one who kindly educates me on things I can't really ask others about, and she doesn't ever seem offended.
Why don't young people want to get married anymore?
Why does everyone embrace homosexuality?
How come this generation doesn't see God as relevant?

She must think me a bit sheltered, and primeval, but she never answers me with judgement for my questions.
And I learn a great deal from her.
The people I surround myself with so often think just like me on these matters. I need to be stretched. To understand those outside of my circle.
I don't need to agree with someone to understand them. I don't need to convert someone to my way of thinking to love them. I do need to listen.
God loves these people so much, the sexually open sort, and the politically liberal, and the right winged fundamentalists. All of them have intrinsic value, and all of them were Created with purpose. For me to love them, I need to pay attention to them, and not just to preach. I need to understand.
Jo has a real gift for communicating that to me. She also has a real gift for loving this old cousin of hers with provincial viewpoints. I want to be more like her.

One of those quiz things...

You Are a Purple Crayon

Your world is colored in dreamy, divine, and classy colors. You hold yourself to a sky high standard, and you are always graceful. People envy, idolize, and copy you without realizing it. You are an icon for those who know you. And while it is hard to be a perfectionist, rest assured it's paying off! Your color wheel opposite is yellow. While yellow people may be wise, they lack the manners and class needed to impress you.

What Color Crayon Are You?

Commentary

I've decided that I want to marry Joshua, from the bible.
How old would he be now? I have always preferred older men.
David would be good, too, only he has too many wives already. I'd get lost in the shuffle.

The book of Joshua is our latest group endeavor in house church. Sometimes I am tempted to think of this particular book in terms of a flannel board, but I am finding that there is a great deal which challenges me.
The fifth chapter is where I camped out this morning, reading and thinking.

The chapter opens with an invitation from God to use flint knives on adult men to preform the ceremony of circumcision. I have a hard time imagining that these guys embraced that idea. Raise your hand if you want someone wielding a flint knife down there.
Anyone?
And why would God have them thus incapacitated so near their enemies? It's another exercise in trust for them, because it's not exactly a battle-savvy move. It left them entirely vulnerable, and they had to be convinced that God was protecting them. I wonder if anyone died from the complications? I wonder if anyone refused to participate? For the moment, it seems, this is a nation united in obedience.

Next thing they do is kill a lamb, rather, lots of lambs, and celebrate the feast of Passover. God instituted this as a permanent reminder of their deliverance from Egypt. Why don't I celebrate Passover every year, then?
Who wants to raise sheep?
The nation of Israel has finally arrived at their Promised destination, and God has them play out the Passover reminder of the beginning of their journey. I'll bet this was a festival of mixed emotions. There's all the joy of arriving at the new land, but looking back had to be bittersweet. So many of their loved ones had died on the way. They must have thought of that first fateful night back in Egypt, and all the loved ones who had been spared the Judgement of the Firstborn, only to die in the 40 years of wandering.
Sobering reminder.

The next day, the manna ceased. Did you see the Veggie Tales movie where they are all excited to finally eat something new, like souffle? That was a great little film. I never get to see Veggie Tales anymore. I need to look into that.
No more manna. That had to be a shocking realization that everything had changed. I wonder how they felt about that. Life as they knew it had altered completely, and there was no turning back.

Then we come to the thing that made me want to marry Joshua. He was a formidable warrior and a godly man. Love that.
This is the only place I can think of in Scripture where someone is confronted by an angel without fear. You've got this big ol' angel dude, with his sword drawn, and Joshua marches right up to the guy.
"Are you for us, or against us?" He demands.
Once He is told that this is, in fact, the leader of God's army (interesting that Joshua likely had thought of himself in that capacity), he hits the ground in subservience. His response is immediate worship, and submission. This is a mighty warrior who understands leadership, and submission. What a heart he must have had.
I gotta get me one of those.

And so, I am finding that the book of Joshua is giving me a great deal to think about. God included these stories because He wants me to understand the historical background. He also intends that my life be altered, my faith stretched. The truths can be applied to my situation, like a salve that heals and strengthens. Funny that a flannel board story can reverberate through the ages to transform the heart and mind of a 21st century blogger.

MENSA

At house church tonight, Tim was talking about his dad, and his dad's younger brother. They are 12 years apart.
So, after a moments reflection, I asked, "How old was your dad when his brother was born?"

...............I said that. This actually took place.
I asked that question in the presence of several viable witnesses. It's clear that all the social activity of this weekend has deleted whatever brainwave-activity there once was is my head.

The road is long, with many a winding turn...

So, Kara suggested a hike. "Being up here in the mountains, just makes me feel like a wilderness woman," says she.
Now, you have to know Kara. She has just the tiniest bit of a princess complex. This is not an individual inclined towards perspiration. Neither hard work of any kind. Nor easy work, come to think of it. "I'm thirsty," she is wont to say, "go get me a drink." And we do.

Here we have them, left to right: Kara, Jenine, Denise, Lisa, and Kris. Patsy and I are the photo-taking people, so we are not in many of the pictures themselves. Denise, who doesn't blush at hard work, carried Rachel the entire time.
Lisa was walking with me at one point, not long into the hike, when she quietly said, "Kara is going to be tired here pretty soon."

The next thing you know, Kara threw her hands in the air, waaaaayyyy above her head, and spun around. "I'm tired, let's go back!" Which was very pretty with her cute little skirt.

And Jenine said "no."

Jenine pointed to the top on the teeny-tiny hill, (or as Kara called it 'the big mountain'), and explained that we were almost to the top. Stick with it, sugar. And she did. Though I do recall just the merest hint of a whine.

But we attained the summit, and Kara was able to sit a spell. This made her very happy. See? One of her hands is above her head. I think Jenine is patting her on the back for her accomplishment.

I got Patsy in a picture! She has a cool camera, and I'll bet her pictures are quite wonderful. She's a very talented woman, creative and all. Plus, you should see what she can do with Photoshop.

Mike's surprise party

Jenine the wise planned a surprise party for her handsome husband, Mike. She's been working on it since March, and she managed to keep the secret from him. This photo shows Mike's arrival. He is looking at his son (on the far right), who drove from Oregon to be here for the day.
My son, D' managed to squeeze himself into this picture, also.
Look at my skinny sister in short-shorts and high heels. Somebody get that girl some hiking boots.
Mike and Jenine had been gone all morning, while we got things ready. He called home at one point to check on the kids. Kara answered the phone, thinking it was a call from Jenine. When Kara heard Mike's voice, she ran around looking for one of Mike's kids, and the ensuing confusion had Mike convinced that his children had friends over while he and Jenine were gone. This is a big No-no. He was all ready to discipline those partying rascals. Imagine his amazement when he found that the party was his!
40 is an advanced age. As Mike is my cousin, I've known him always. It's very difficult to imagine him as a Grown up, Even when I see the fine man that he is, right before my eyes.
Patsy and Kara are pictured here. I don't know for sure what Patsy is communicating here. Either she wants 2 drinks, or she wants you to have peace. It's a little unclear.
Denise is here smiling with Kris and Lisa chatting next to her. Denise is Jenine's sister, and my friend, she is beautiful and also very muscular, as she works out at the gym all the time.
Now, I have to post this and go work up another post for you. You see, blogger limits how many photos I can download in one post, so I have to create an entirely new one.