Loving Buddies, loving God.

It's midnight.

I'm not the type to stay up late either. But I just can't sleep. Perhaps that last Oreo I ate while trying to stay awake during a training class from 6-10 this evening after work was just one Oreo too many. I'm awake.

And I'm thinking about my Buddy and my Precious.

Ever since the doctor said "tethered cord" over Buddy, something inside me seems to have gotten shaken up. I'm emotionally overwhelmed. I ache for him. I ache for his  parents who, in a semi-perfect world, should have been the ones sitting beside the huge MRI machine yesterday.

I ache because they probably don't even know.

I ache because, for once in my life, I am deeply troubled that the answer to "Is there a problem?" is yes.
I ache because, I just returned from a class that mentioned "trauma" in the form of early hospitalizations can  develop things in children that they'll have to overcome.

My gut is ripped in shreds though, at the thought of his tiny, fragile, thin little body enduring the pain of surgeries, catheters, needles. When I stop and imagine it, I can hardly breathe.

Foster child or not - HE IS MINE.
I am not his.

I've thought about the differences the last few days as I tried to understand why my body was physically reacting so strongly to his potential problems, and I put it together as this:
He IS mine, but I am not his.

He is mine. He is my child, my responsibility, my blessing, my chosen opportunity, he is my joy, my sweet sunshine as he grins at me. He is my heart, and as I hold him I'd swear he is my flesh. I would give him all I have and more. I desire so much for his future, his body, his mind, and most of all his soul.

I am not his. Even now, after a month, he cries for someone else. There is someone that holds his heart in a deep, impenetrable way. The time spent in her womb, knowing her voice, and eventually his blessed arrival and feeling her arms hold him. He likes me, yes. But when I left him alone with someone else tonight while I went to class, I knew he would not cry for me. I am not his.

And as I considered these things this week, I almost marvelled at the line that I can draw between those two definitions of who is whose, and who I am to God, and who God is to me.

I believe, firmly, that when God looks down on me He sees me as His. "She is mine".
But I wonder, from Gods infinite view of my life, if He sees that He is mine.

Does my heart cry out for other peoples validation, love, respect, honor, acceptance, more than it does for His? Have I spent time with Him, the birthing time, the quiet hours, days, years, where I just listen for His voice and learn to love it?
Do I cherish the feel of these tiny babies hands, arms, hair, more than I do the arms of my Father?
Am I still willing to lay everything, and everyone down, for the sake of His glory?

Precious, from day one has been of such infinite value to me. She is precious indeed, and dear to my heart. And as I picked up Buddy last night to put him to bed, I knew how precious he too had become to me.
It reminded me of a song that a woman used to sing in my old church: "Jesus is precious to me."

I'd say He is, but... raising two babies and working full time I've found my brain becoming too full. I don't want to read, or listen to things that require my brain power. I want to sit, in a silent house and just recover. But in that, I've wondered if I've slipped some. If I've allowed Him to be less precious to me.

Or perhaps I'm simply taking Him for granted.

Tonight was a good night, that restored to me some energy to pick up and fight again. And I want to reaffirm, or reestablish (whichever word works best) Gods position in my life.

I am His. He is mine.

Life is best written one page at a time

Someone recently asked me if I'd be interested in doing something, and quite honestly, the only reason I answered in the negative was fear. It's hard to make changes, to not know where the road will lead, or what risks are involved. It's hard to give up what you know, for what's unknown.

It's all I've been able to think about since that discussion and today, I remembered a piece of advice I've been giving over and over again to a friend at work that just recently joined our little team (department). You see, most of the time when you open up a claim to begin processing it, it's maybe 60-80 pages long. But every once in awhile, you open up one that's around 200 pages. It doesn't just have regular attorney invoices, but it also has refunds and other claims that have already been filed, penalties and interest, utility bills to go through, and other oddball stuff that usually leaves you with a claim that doesn't balance for the 1st 3 hours.

 So, my friend Steph, has come across several of the more difficult ones and I continually tell her "One page at a time - don't think about the claim, just do it." I've watched a lot of people, myself included, see how rough a claim is going to be from the beginning and immediately something inside just shuts down. Something says "This is hard." And I boldly suggested to her that her claim wasn't hard, it just wasn't easy. And that there is a difference.
For example:
Losing 20 pounds in a month is hard.
Losing 5 pounds in a month is not easy.
Losing 1 pound in a month is easy.

Rather than think about the whole of the claim, I try and simply take it one page at a time. It still takes longer than an "easy" claim, but it's not impossible. So today, as I struggled with a "not easy" claim of my own I couldn't stop thinking about whether I'm looking at the offer with the same eyes that see 200 pages and shies away.

I don't want to live a life of fear of changing my happy little world. And believe me, my world is OH so happy. Because at the end of every successful claim my company is richer, and if I live my life the same way too, perhaps my life would be richer for all the difficult tasks I've taken on. I also don't want to change my life just to prove I'm not afraid.

Right now, I'm picturing the offer as a whole, where it leads, and whether I like the potential outcomes or am afraid of the potential outcomes. But I can't help but wonder if I shouldn't just take it one day, one page, at a time. Let the story be written as it's written.

If any of you wonderful friends have great advice on how to make decisions (besides the #1 "Oh God, what on earth should I do?) I'd love to hear it.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

When you can't trace His hand, trust His heart.

I visited my parents this past weekend.

I've been hearing stories about how she's been passing out more and more often and having "spells" but this weekend I got my first opportunity to see one.

I was woke up early Saturday morning to my dad calling to me, telling me she was having a spell and he thought I should see it. So I crawled out of bed, and went to her. I found her lying on her bed, her hand clutching her robe so that the involuntary shaking of her hand would be controlled somewhat. She couldn't speak normally, and practically couldn't move.

I asked her to move her legs and she was barely able to bend only her right knee. Her feet/toes wouldn't move. Through her garbled speech she asked what was wrong with her body. And said she'd never felt that way before; and thanks to alzheimers, every event seems like the first time to her. You evil, hateful alzheimers.

My dad left the room to get her a blanket, and I was holding her hand and attempting to "straighten her toes" as she said they were cramped and were curled under, when her shaking stopped, her eyes closed, and she ceased to move.

It's one of those moments where all I could do for a moment was look at her, and shamefully I have to admit everything in me screamed "NOW GOD, NOW!" I spoke her name several times, attempting to rouse her, and doing the standard "look, listen, feel" of CPR to make sure she was breathing. About 45 seconds later she came out of it with a start and but still couldn't communicate for another minute at least. Thankfully, when she came to, her shaking had stopped, but a new problem had apparently begun and she her feet were hurting her worse. She remained immobile on the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks. I laid on the bed next to her, holding her hand and stonily refusing to cry or vomit as I begged God to take my mothers life.

I curse alzheimers to the bitter hell from which it came from.

It was 20 minutes before she could move her toes, and another 40 until she was able to get up and move to the living room.

God heard a lot of screaming during that time. Inwardly I screamed for God to take my poor, scared, confused, hurting mother, and just take her. Take her now, while I'm lying on the bed next to her because I'm selfish and it would comfort me so much to be beside her when eventually the day comes. But dear God, please make this misery stop for her.

Eventually though, we moved to the living room and she sat while dad fixed her toast and I scrambled her an egg and we just hoped she'd feel better. And I had to accept that her time wasn't today. And I had to accept it without being angry that God didn't accept that my decision on the subject was the perfect and obvious direction He should take us.
I had to accept it without that bitter disappointment that leaves you unable to speak to God for awhile until you get past the worst of it.

And you do this because God doesn't always do what you want. Because you believe that God knows best even when it hurts and frustrates you. Because when you said you trusted Him, you meant that you trusted Him in things beyond just good times. Because when you say "I love You God" and make Him LORD of your life, He has every right to expect it. Because sometimes life is hard and God is enough to get you through it. Because sometimes life hurts but God is a comfort when you can't imagine anything could comfort you. You do it because being a fair weather Christian isn't really following Christ at all. You do it, because you love Him too much to stop over this.

Something as insignificant as circumstances can never change the powerful fact that God is enough. Whether I understand or not.


PS. Alzheimers isn't what's causing these spells, and she just had an MRI to hopefully explain what's happening to her. But without alzheimers, any other illness would be more bearable. I hate alzheimers. I hate alzheimers. I hate alzheimers. I hate the devil. I hate the devil. I hate the devil.

~~~~~

Trust His Heart

All things work for our good
though sometimes we can't see how they could
struggles that break our hearts in two
sometimes blinds us to the truth

Our Father knows what's best for us
His ways are not our own
So when your pathway grows dim, and you just can't see Him
Remember you're never alone

God is too wise to be mistaken
God is too good to be unkind
So when you don't understand
When you don't see His plan
When you can't trace His hand
Trust His heart

He sees the master plan
And He holds our future in His hands
So don't live as those who have no hope
All our hope is found in Him

We see the present clearly
But He sees the first and the last
And like a tapestry He's weaving you and me to someday be just like Him

God is too wise to be mistaken
God is too good to be unkind
So when you don't understand
When you don't see His plan
When you can't trace His hand
Trust His heart

He alone is faithful and true
He alone knows what is best for you
So when you don't understand
When you don't see His plan
When you can't trace His hand trust His heart

Protecting God.

        I have tried very hard over the last many years to be a good daughter because I've got a lot to make up for. I'm the one that didn't go to college, my brother did. I'm the one still single, my brother's married with two kids. I've tried to make up for those "failures" by being around more to help since that's what the single daughter is supposed to be good for.

But shortly after my mom began going downhill and things really became difficult for my parents, God moved me to San Antonio. My mom is there. I am here. My mom wants me there. She does not understand at all why I am not there. Some of her family have pointed out that I should be there, and while that's difficult to face, nothing - and I mean nothing - compares to my mother crying and saying she thought I would take care of her and help her.

To others, as they question what I am going to do about the situation I can only point them to her caregiver. Because it isn't me. It should be me.

        But one thing I don't do is tell the questioners why it's not me. I don't tell them God moved me to San Antonio. I don't tell them about moving in with my parents for a month, then finally going back to San Antonio because I knew I was out of Gods will.

I don't tell them that because they might think God is wrong. And apparently I feel the need to protect Gods reputation. I believe that if people heard the story, they would blame God and say that's ridiculous. Or they may just say I don't know what I'm talking about. Or maybe they won't say anything at all, but they'll walk away thinking "Just someone else that doesn't want to do the right thing and is going to pin it on God." Either way, it still looks bad on God. I'll feel like a bad daughter either way it goes so it really doesn't matter which conclusion they come to about me.

But here is the reason that daughters aren't supposed to protect their Fathers. It's simple even. Father knows best. See? Just that simple.


I know God put me here.
Everything God does is to bring glory to Himself.
So the end result of me being where He brought me is going to bring Him glory.

At least it will, if I don't try and hide His involvement. All of my wonderful "protection" is holding back some of the glory that God could be getting as I bear witness to His leading and guidance in the situation.

        That said: God moved me to San Antonio knowing that I wouldn't be around to help my mother during the hardest time in her life. I feel sick about it, but I know God has a plan and it's for our good. More than I want to help her, I need to obey God. So here we are. I don't understand it any more than you do probably. But I believe God. I'm willing to risk my mothers life on it.

I'm laying it all on the line, it's all on God. I know what I know, I believe what I believe, and God is in charge. If that means I have to do something odd - then God can have the ridicule, I'll be a willing vessel. And my words will point to Him in good things and bad.

He can handle it.

Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus... but to trust and obey.

Welcome to Heaven... erm... I mean the library

There are... a LOT of libraries in this area. All of the small cities have their own, but then San Antonio has 27 branches scattered throughout San Antonio. Over the course of the 14 months I've lived here, I've been to 3 of the branches and 2 other small city libraries. Only one of them was small - the rest... beautiful. Far nicer than any other library I've been in before. And with staff that is actually kind and helpful.

(Gainesville Public Library, that was a dig at you. Before you, I never dreamed I, I would boycott a library of all things. But you drove me to it.)

I'd heard wonderful things about the Central SAPL location though. It's the "Central" one, the MAIN one, the BEST one. But it wasn't until Saturday that a book that I wanted was there and not my regular library, so I decided I'd finally venture downtown and visit this supposedly wonderful place.

I got downtown easily enough, it's less than 20 minutes from me, but then, as apparently everyone is prone to do I got lost and drove around for about 10 minutes wondering if I'd ever find it among the construction and 1 way streets. (City of SA, please finish sometime within my lifetime.) I passed by the parking garage entrance not realizing it was the garage for the library, but thankfully it was early morning on a Saturday so there was no traffic and only one spectator as I reversed in the middle of the street until I got back to the entrance. I grabbed my parking receipt from the box, noting that I had to "pay" to go to this library in terms of parking $1 for 1 hr, $1.75 for the next (I ended up paying $1.75). Then, my dear friends I walked across the garage, past more construction boards and tarps, and stepped into the building.

And there I stopped.

Let me preface this with the fact that I've always lived in a small town before coming to SA. I've seen big buildings but for me, it's like seeing a big zucchini, - big, pretty, don't care. No friends, this was a big library. I stood there, looking to the far left, the far right, and then craning my neck backwards to see the beauty of the ceiling and the other 4 stories of books above me. Impressed is a word that does not do justice. I was awed.

I ventured to the 3rd floor, where the childrens section was larger than every other library I'd ever been in. I caressed books of braille. Then I ventured to the 2nd floor where they keep only non-fiction reference books. I ventured back to my treasure trove the 1st floor fiction. Sorted by author I finally stopped to count - there were 5 rows of H's. Row upon row upon row upon row upon row (and I could happily and legitimately keep going with the "row upon row") of books. It was more than my mind could grasp. It seemed as though I could find a book, sit down, and read for the rest of my life. And still not finish all the books I wanted.

At the end of my $1.75 parking time I was clutching 7 books and I had not even finished the "B" author section. It physically hurt to leave. And I said to myself - "I don't see how Heaven could be better than this."

Aside from the whole "Jesus" thing of course.

I'm looking forward to seeing Jesus, and while I've read words about how beautiful Heaven is, my mind can't fathom it. Just as others telling me how great that library was did no justice whatever to the grandeur and awestruck feeling I had when I stepped into it's wide entrance unable to take it all in.

So until I meet Jesus, until I get a glimpse of Heaven itself and am carried away by it's superiority to everything conceivable on Earth, Heaven for me will be that library. And I have to imagine that God is in His Heaven laughing at that very idea.

What a day that will be!

Enjoy a glimpse that doesn't even remotely convey it's grandeur.


The outside, pretty though it is, gives no clues as to the wonderment inside its doors.


Even the homeless people READ here. My old library, the homeless people just sit; happy to be indoors. Here, they read. Because you cannot help but sit and read.


I did not want to come down. Truly.

Derek Redmon finished the race.

My brother apparently has some odd beef with the raccoon family. This is the 2nd time in as many months that he's killed a raccoon and a raccoon has retaliated by killing his car. As a quirky life would have it, this was his first night driving his spiffy new rental car because he'd recently scraped the left side off his car by plowing into an 18wheeler conveniently parked in his lane on the interstate.
Fortunately everyone except the car and raccoon are quite alright still.
But, the phone call left me unable to go back to sleep (Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day – accept this justice as a gift on my daughter's wedding day.) so getting up and plodding through my backlog of google reader blogs I came across this and wanted to post it for you all.



Found @ A Disciples Thoughts by Terry Laudett - Thanks for posting this Terry!

The treasures of darkness

And I will give thee the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that thou mayest know that I, the LORD, which call thee by thy name, am the God of Israel. Isaiah 45:3

There is a whole byplay going on in these chapters in Isaiah, that I'm certainly taking the verse out of it's context by displaying only one. However, my ideas on the verse and how they display Gods nature are still fitting (I think).

There was something incredible about that verse that struck me, because anyone that knows me knows that before moving to San Antonio I was going through a pretty dark time. So when I read that verse, I was gripped by it's choice of words. "treasures of darkness", "hidden riches of secret places". Riches in secret places.. Treasures OF darkness - suggesting that the darkness itself is the treasure.

I spend so much of the time surrounding holidays looking for the right gift for people. Not just a gift, not just something they'll like, but that special gift that leaves them happy and excited and never having imagined that they would receive such a gift. I stink at that kind of shopping - but its what I try for none-the-less.

And in so many ways, that's exactly what God has done for me throughout the year. I've discovered treasures and gifts I didn't imagine for myself, yet here they are gracing my life. When He handed me darkness, I didn't treasure it, I didn't say "Wow God! Thanks! It's just what I've always wanted!" But now, a year and a half past the awfulness of it all, I know a darkness that has become a treasure rather than a minefield of suffering.

In those secret places where I sat alone with God and literally screamed at Him for what He'd done - I've found the riches of a relationship with a God I can reach out and not just touch, but grip. I found a God who grips me as well. I've found riches that amaze me.

So when I read a verse and it says: "And I will give thee the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that thou mayest know that I, the LORD, which call thee by name, am the God of Israel." I believe it. I absolutely believe it.

A time for living and a time for building...

Friday evening was difficult. At 9pm I was loading my car with cleaning supplies, and tools and such to 'fix-it' and even a 2-wheel dolly to 'move-it' since I knew I had a large item to move. I knew the weekend would be too short to accomplish everything I needed to get done in a short 36 hours.

As I loaded my car I suddenly had the thought: "I don't want to go." I didn't want to make this trip. I wanted to stay in San Antonio and continue all the preparations for the work needed here. And as I worked to have a good attitude about the work and trip and interruption to my little world here I suddenly realized something so basic that I don't know why I haven't enjoyed this thought sooner:
I'm building a life.

I'm not just living a life, I'm building it. I'm building things, jobs, memories, experience, relationships and even a house to last my lifetime.

Perhaps, when I'm old and gray I'll retire from the "workforce" and simply maintain the big things I've built through the years, and maybe build a few things - new relationships, new experiences, etc. But now isn't the time for me to rest. It is the time to build.
I'm building a life.

And it reminded me of something I've long since wondered about. Do you recall when Jesus turns to His disciples and says "I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, ye may be also."

Those words have always made me stop because my Savior isn't up in Heaven with a hammer and nails building me a nice mansion. He created the world in 6 days. So I'm pretty sure He had my little niche in Heaven knocked out before I turned 4 hours old.

And while I don't quite think this is the answer to the questions I've always had about that verse, I couldn't help but imagine something along these lines:

He's building me an eternity.

He's building me opportunities for relationships, to give, to learn, to grow. He's lining up moments of pain that break and mold me into what He needs me to be in His Kingdom. He's building significant moments of joy and challenging times of decisions. He's building me. And He's building me an eternity.

What am I doing?

I keep saying as soon as life slows down into a routine of some sort I'll finally be able to start blogging again....
Obviously it hasn't too much. I miss writing. And I have the feeling I'm going to regret not having some posts to look back on to remember this time with.

So this is just a mini life update for those of you that might possibly be interested.

I'm caught up on all my foster parenting classes again (I even have a head start on next year).
I've passed 1 inspection, 1 more bigger one to go (most likely next week).
And then an update has to be done on my homestudy.
And then I'm done. Sometimes the homestudy update might be scheduled 3 weeks out or so depending on the persons schedule, but it shouldn't be too long.

Also, I'd gotten a renter lined up for my house and taken the ad out of the paper only to have the renter back out at the last minute. Pray for Kevin, his wife has brain cancer and they've just found out it's spreading.
I'll be in my house, my house, this weekend seeing what the house looks like and getting it ready for another renter. I'll be changing locks, mowing lawn, and adult sitting my mother so my dad can have a break.

And Sunday morning, bright and early, I get to visit my Little One. She's nearly 6. She'll be entering Kindergarten this fall. I met her when she was 2.... it's crazy how the time flies. I'll never forget waiting for a 2 yr old to get out of that car only to see this super tall girl, in a brown shirt, brown and pink camo skirt and a buzz cut come out and shyly meet me. I have the feeling I've been gone long enough that I'll get that shy greeting again. Her parents are still doing incredible, and when I talked to them this week they were disciplining their daughter (which I am always thankful to hear when they are firm with her) and mom had a new, quieter responsible tone to her voice. She'd been through a lot this year and she'd stepped up to the plate, they both had. If you ask me to point to the few success stories I know of in life - they're the #1 slot. They love their daughter. And that's good enough for me.

I'm off to work, this "post" has become more like a letter to old friends rather than a spiritual post of some sort. Some of you I don't even know, but you've read through my journey for the last several years and even though you didn't comment I've known you all were there. So I appreciate you all.

Have a great weekend,

I needed to be broke.

My savings account was depleted when I first moved to San Antonio. And I spent 5 long months looking for a job. The money was gone, nothing was coming in. Yet somehow I paid my bills, paid my rent, and helped out others that couldn't pay their bills, and never once encountered over-draft charges from my bank. I still smile about that one.

This month and last month have/had challenges all their own but I'm not the least bit afraid to meet them. When I first saw the situation I immediately thought "oh no... what will I do?" but the second thought was, "What am I talking about? I'll do the same thing I did last time except better this time - I'll trust God."

For that reason, I have to say I needed to be broke financially. God needed to bring me to San Antonio, break my bank, and force me to trust Him. And He did. I found myself in a situation so completely beyond myself that I couldn't imagine how to survive - and God just worked. God. Just. Worked.
If He hadn't of let me be broke, I would never have realized that I'm never broke as long as I've got God. I've got enough. I needed to be broke.

~~~~

I needed to be broke.

Last year, when I moved I was in pieces. My blog certainly shows it. I was angry with God, at odds with my church, and hurting more than I remember being hurt before. I tried every trick in the world to put myself back together again - including a 40 days of faith series. Ironic since despite my words I was the most faithless person I knew. Some parts of me were not quite as bad as it was before but I was still broken, and hurting, struggling every day to just get through.

It's hard to say this because I remember it quite vividly, but I needed to be broke.

People I walked proudly in front of have now seen me at my worst. I'm probably still proud in ways I shouldn't be, but coming through this I've found myself in the grip of the God who can put me back together. He is the God of the broken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think the idea behind being broken is simply that whether it's financial, spiritual, emotional, physical, or mental. Just the word broken - I went to Merriam Webster and looked it up just to see how he defined it and I'd like you to read the definitions associated with "broken"


1 : violently separated into parts : shattered
2 : damaged or altered by breaking : having undergone or been subjected to fracture : being irregular, interrupted, or full of obstacles c : violated by transgression d: discontinuous, interrupted : disrupted by change
3 a : made weak or infirm b : subdued completely : crushed, sorrowful c : bankrupted
4 a : cut off : disconnected
5 : not complete or full

I wouldn't recommend brokenness as a constant state. But I think everyone needs that time in their lives. Probably more than once. But I can think of no better way to understand how great, and how powerful God is than to experience Him at your weakest.

I wouldn't have the relationship with Him that I have right now if I hadn't been broke, both financially and emotionally and Spiritually. I wouldn't. I would still know the words, but now I've experienced the words.

I just needed to be broke.

I really am alive

I told myself tonight was the night that I would finally sit down to my blog.

Unfortunately, a bitter war was waged between me, the washing machine, and the wall. 2.5 hrs later my washing machine technically "works". It just can't be left unattended or it will bountifully spew water all over the electrical outlet which is, quite handily, right next to the drain hose.

I'm in the house. Just a few more days of adjusting and I'll be back posting again!
Really.

Meanwhile, I'm going to bed.

In process

I'm in the process of moving.

Which means, I'm getting all my stuff ready to be moved.
On a certain day I'll put all my stuff in a truck and move it.
Some days, even though my stuff isn't quite ready to move, I wish moving day was today. I wish it were today so that it would be done with. It's difficult to pack, but not pack some things because you still have to live here.
When I do move, this house will be better off for the long process of waiting and planning and preparing.
One day though, the planned day will arrive and me and my things will move and it will be accomplished. Then I will begin a whole new world of preparation for life in the new house and all it will entail.

Many times in life that planning, preparing time is when we look around and say "Where is God? What is He doing? Where is He taking me? Why does this feel like a standstill when I should be doing something?"
Because often, the preparation time lasts longer than we imagine it should.
But it's all in Gods purpose, it's all in Gods plan. And you, and whatever He's preparing you for will be better off for having had all the preparation.

Much like moving, I can either sit here and do little, waiting for the day to get closer and moving day will be a miserably hurried, last minute stuff kind of harried rush-around.
Or I can use each evening, and plan and prepare so that moving day is left for simply the actual work necessary for the day - which will be more than enough anyway.

I've been in that place before, wondering why it felt like something should be happening when I felt like I was standing still. I think it helps to put it in perspective with this move. Hopefully, at least in the future, it will come to mind when I am tempted to think God has forgotten to update His agenda for me.

It leaves a great deal of responsibility on my plate though.
It's my job to use each day to be prepared, to grow, to be ready.
I'm in process.

Happy Fathers day.

I made my obligatory phone call home today, called and asked my dad about his moving progress and wished him a happy fathers day. But today meant something totally different to me.

At lunch time, we all bowed our heads as my brother offered thanks for the food to God, and in that moment my heart said "Happy Fathers day Lord, You've been everything to me this year..." it was sudden, and quick because the regular prayer ended soon with "Amens" agreed upon and hamburger buns beginning to be passed.

A joking discussion even began about it because apparently I wasn't the only one to feel that way because my sis-in-law, Glenda, tagged onto the "Amen" her own "Happy Fathers day". It became a joke around the table, but it wasn't a joke to me and I don't think it was to her either.

There are a lot of people that don't have fathers anymore. Maybe they just aren't in your lives because you don't have a good relationship or perhaps they've passed on - whatever the cause - I want you to know simply this:

God has been my Father.
On those bad days when my heart has broken, I was able to cry on my Fathers shoulder.
On those discouraged days when I didn't want to do what I should, I encountered the unbending will of my Father.
On those happy days when the world just couldn't seem to get any brighter, I was able to simply sit with my Father and tell Him how wonderful everything was.

When I needed a Father, He was there.

I didn't worry about waking Him at 3am, using up His resources when I wasn't sure how my bills would get paid, or that my emotions might make Him do something that He couldn't handle. Even when He didn't make the choices I wish He had made, I know now that He's always made the right ones - no matter how much I pressured Him for a different outcome.

There have been times in my life when I sat in a corner of my house, knees pulled tightly to my chest and my head buried and cried and prayed that some sorrow or fear might go away - and there are times in those moments of my worst brokenness when I had the unmistakable feeling of being held.

I know people that are willing to give up on me, walk away when the going gets rough - but no matter how many times I walked away from Him and waited for Him to let me go - He never did. I even adamantly declared a little over a year ago on this blog that I was DONE, I quit God, NO MORE.
He loved me even then. Oh how He loves me.
Oh how I love Him.
I don't quit. And God knows I'm sure not done.

Being where God wants you.

I feel introspective about everything I've seen and experienced this weekend, so I hope you don't mind this post. If anything, it's just my way of musing out loud to find a resolution in my mind. All that to say - it's going to probably feel a little scattered. :)

This week I learned that my dad has been inviting his soon to be next door neighbor out into the street to fight. He's been in a contest of wills with the neighbor over the volume of his offensive music. My dad winces when he stands up. The neighbor his a strong young man. I've witnessed my dad in a fist fight once - ironically enough it was on the way home from church - he lost. Mom can't afford for him to be wrong.

Speaking of mom, I'd go into debt with medical bills in a heartbeat if dad would allow me to get her treatment. They don't have insurance, and about 2 months ago she broke her ankle (my amature diagnosis) I took photos of her leg going straight down, and her foot about an inch off to the side. It's crazy to look at. I keep intending to show the pictures to some nurses I know, (at least they might have a less amature opinion or could give advice) but it hasn't worked out yet. God knows. This is a situation I absolutely wish He'd change.

But it makes me wonder if that's not why He's got me in San Antonio. If I were there, perhaps I'd be pushing for things that for some reason God wants left alone. I know if I hadn't moved to San Antonio my life would certainly have taken a different path this last year as I would be dedicating most of my time to her life. But I'm not there. It's just the two of them trying to somehow manage together. And I'm in San Antonio praying to God with all my heart that He could please just let her die. End her fear and confusion and suffering and let her go. If He's trying to teach dad something, teach him some other way - Mom's done enough. Please God let her go. Please.

I couldn't even write that without the tears again.... daughters should never pray that for their mothers.

I see myself going back one day. Back to my small town, back to my small church - they are both "home" to me. It's a long story, but I had a police officer ask me this weekend if I felt safe where I was (I was in my small town at the time) and I realized that I felt safer there than anywhere else. Perhaps God won't permit my return until my mother is gone. Perhaps He won't permit my return until I've learned all that He's got for me to learn from living in San Antonio.

But while I miss certain things - especially my church - not for anything do I want to step away from where God wants me to be. He's got a plan for my life, and for the lives of the people He will put me in contact with; I just need to walk in it, never turning from the left or to the right.

I want to do what God wants me to do.
And I'm thankful and humbled that Someone as powerful and wonderful as Him - would actually give someone like me something to do.

A dear friend

I caught up with a dear friend today. When I first saw her, we were surrounded by other people so I stayed away just biding my time. There's something so wonderful to me about our conversations that I didn't want it to be interrupted when I finally got to sit and and tell her everything.

Finally, everyone was gone, and I needed to leave to run an errand before a second church service began. But after I ran the errand I came back and she was still there so I got to sit down and tell her everything. It's been a very long time since we last got to be together, but as we began I remembered things from long ago to tell her. I told her new things, scary things, happy things, and oh so sad things.

I've cried on her more than anyone else in the world has ever seen me cry. And in the middle of pain, or fear and doubt, she helps me think clearly. When I'm happy, and just thoughtful of how blessed I am - she somehow always reminds me of some new idea that takes me deeper into joy and understanding.

I watch her talk to other people and while I see how pleasant and wonderful she is, it doesn't affect me as much as when she speaks for me. When she responds to my thoughts and emotions. Free, uninterrupted time with her leaves me as peaceful and contented as a kitten lapping warm milk.

All too soon my phone rang, and I had business to attend to and couldn't stay with her anymore. But, Lord Willing, that wonderful piano will still be there next time I visit her.
There is nothing quite like her. I wish everyone could have quite so good a friend.

Confession my faults - Fear.

I like apologizing.

I know what you're thinking, and I saw that eye-roll. You'll just have to trust me on this. I like apologizing. I enjoy naming how my sin was wrong, bringing it to light, and letting someone know I'm sorry not just for doing whatever, but for the disrespect, unkindness, selfishness, whatever sinful nature was rearing up to cause the action in the first place.

It leaves me feeling like I just kicked dirt in the devils eye. I like to take sin seriously - not in that I would think about it all the time, but that when I do find it in my life I figure out what it really is.

I've been stressed out lately. I didn't realize it until the other night but the move I'm about to make and all it's little ramifications was scaring me. I did some math the other day and, living on my own, after bills here I'd have $52 left for groceries for the month.

It's not that I don't think I'll eat, because I know God will provide work and money so I actually don't think I'll go without. It just made me realize how close to the line I'm going to be. If emergencies come up...

And I became afraid.
I didn't rest in the promise that God would supply my needs, He would help me, and give me wisdom as to the house to choose and what actions to take in order to use the money He's provided me with wisely.

As I grew more afraid, my actions around my poor housemates changed as well.

The turning point was when I griped at my nephew for dumping his water out to put fresh water in his cup. He said it was old and I griped something about how water doesn't taste old after 3 hours.
Then later that evening, I brought my cup downstairs, dumped the water out, rinsed the cup and refilled it with fresh water.

Instantly I was convicted.

And I did something I hadn't done too recently; I went to my bedroom, dropped to my knees beside my bed and I wept before God. I repented of my actions towards my family, and I prayed He would help me not just to treat them as He would, but that He would calm my fears and I would simply trust Him for my needs without worry.

I told Him I was stressed out, worried, and anxious and I didn't know how to handle the changes coming up on my own. I told Him I loved Him dearly, and that I hadn't been showing it - and I was so very sorry for how off-track my heart had wandered from the path and that I needed Him to draw me nearer, because I just wasn't close enough. I need Him more.

Wednesday night on the way home from church I was working on memorizing 2 Chronicles 7:14 with the kids: If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from Heaven and forgive their sin and heal their land.

It seemed that night, those words were prophetic as I unthinkingly acted them out. But I got up that evening forgiven. Regrets can't be changed, but forgiveness is wonderful. But I didn't realize until later that God had worked on healing my land as well. Today is different, I don't know how or where I'll ultimately end up but... There is something new inside me that's able to trust for this now. And I came home and it was probably one of the more peaceful, kind nights at the house.

The night I repented, afterwards I stayed up late reading 1 John. When I reached 5:4 I found another verse that I set about trying to memorize. It's well worth memorizing if you'd like to try.

For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world; even our faith. 1 John 5:4

God has not given me a spirit of fear.

The Friday before last, in my continued hunt for a car that actually stops on command I arranged to meet a person from craigslist to look at their car. So after I got off work I headed down to the South side of San Antonio to meet up at the South Park Mall. *As a point the further South you go in SA, the worse the neighborhoods get. I typically stay north.*

Once I get there I text to let them know I'm there.

I get a call back saying that a friend of his is bringing the car to me and that the friend is running late. He's going to give his friend my number so that the friend can call me when he's almost there so he can find me.

Ok.

The friend eventually calls and instantly something inside me clenches up and says "This isn't good... get out."
It's irrational, and I'm not a rude, fleeing person by nature at all. I trust people until you've given me a good reason not to. And even then I might still be gullible. I pick up hitch-hikers for cryin' out loud. I don't assume bad things about people.
So I sit there and he finally arrives. He's said things that don't make sense, but unfortunately when I ask pointed questions instead of answering he apologizes that his English isn't very good. He was white, completely white, so I've been calling him "The Russian" in my mind.

The Russian didn't have the car with him. He indicated that it was somewhere else and we had to go to it. He wanted me to get in his car.
The very moment he even started the sentence, his hand still in midmotion to point at his car, my gut screamed at me, "DO NOT DO IT, LEAVE NOW, DON'T GO A STEP FURTHER".
But again, I hate to be the freak who just says "No, I'm calling everything off now, thanks for driving all the way down here - albiet without the car - but I'm going to run home now in case you're a psycho."
So I tell him that I'm going to take my own car and will follow him.

As I get back in my own car, I'm listening to a gut that is literally screaming at me. I've heard my gut talk before, but I can't say that I ever recall it screaming. Listening to my gut screaming at me, GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!! I hesitated and then finally texted my family a description of the man and the car. I even wrote that this was "In case something happened".

Let me just say that in hindsight if you feel enough danger that you want to send a text describing a person "In case something happens", then it's a situation you should probably get out of. Even if it means you're rude.

We drive about 2 miles down the city streets and ever worsening neighborhoods. He finally pulls in to a car lot. He appears to unlock a gate, but cannot open the gate very much. We boths squeeze our bodies through the small opening.

So now I'm inside a car lot, not able to get out quickly because the gate isn't open. To say I feel trapped is putting it mildly. I'm literally trembling. Shaking with adrenaline (I wasn't shaking with fear, I'll get to that in a moment.) The Russian points at a car in the lot that is impossible to move because it's surrounded by other cars. It's so tightly packed in that you can't even walk around the car. He announces that it is the car and then gets on the phone and begins speaking in another language. While I pretend to look at the car from a distance. He pauses his gibberish conversation long enough to tell me his friend is coming shortly who can move the other cars.

I swallow, it's funny how a person remembers doing the oddest things, but I remember swallowing right then and realizing that I've long since past the easy way to get out of this situation. So I look at him and politely say that I had already arranged to meet someone in 30 minutes (not a lie) and needed to leave and was very sorry but that I could not stay and wait any longer. His face made a crazy look at that moment that I can't even describe. And then I turned my back on him and began the long walk to the fence. My screaming gut was silenced only be the small chant in my head praying he would "let me leave".
The word "let" was ringing in my head. I'd never before felt such a hope for another humans mercy in "letting" me walk away.

I left. I left extremely shaken. It felt like I didn't even breathe until I'd maneuvered the city streets back out to the highway, and that's when I began trembling so hard I could hardly hold the wheel. But not for anything would I pull over.

I went home and tried to forget everything.

I did contact one person and cancel my appt with Andre to look at his car the next day. I officially banned meeting craigslist people. NOT gonna happen again.

Then yesterday Andre contacts me again and really wants to sell me his car. After at least an hour of gut twisting indecision I make a plan. Yes I'll meet him, close to my home, on a road that's close to the library where my brother and his wife would be and in a very busy parking lot next to a gas station on a busy Saturday afternoon.

So I go there and park and wait for him to arrive.

Andre sends me a text asking me to go to a different location.

That's all he did. Any other day I wouldn't have even cared one wit. I would have just driven a few more exits down and parked there. But the next thing I know I'm trembling from head to toe, and I'm trying not to cry. I send Andre a text back saying No and the deal is off I'm going home.

And that was the first moment I realized I had a problem. I drove away from the parking lot as quickly as I could, afraid he would show up before I could get away. I was stopped briefly in the parking lot by my brother and his wife who stopped by on their way home. I would have had people with me this time. The situation was entirely different. But I was still shaking so violently that I thought I was going to be sick. I drove away, and at the first opportunity when I felt "clear" of the place I pulled over to try and gather myself. And I realized I had a problem.

God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and of sound mind.

Yesterdays events let the devil enjoy a victory over me. And I hate that. So, I've arranged to meet Andre again. He's given me even more reason to trust that this situation is nothing like the other and I'm trying again. If for no other reason than I will not allow the devil to keep this victory.

I've got a post on this that's not quite so personal that I'll put up soon, but I wanted to post this humbling description of me because I want to be completely frank about how foolish and stupid I can be sometimes. Because our Christian walk isn't about doing it perfectly and enjoy victory after victory. It's about getting up every single time you fall over and knowing that God is still there. It's about seeing your weaknesses and not accepting them but challenging them by the power of Jesus Christ.

When I become irrationally afraid I know the devil is at work. I believe when I met The Russian I had great reason to follow the Holy Spirits urging (I believe the Holy Spirit lives in my gut quite often). But the second event was just the devil using fear against me. And I'm going to attack it.

Whatever you've got in your life, whatever you see makes you irrational and you see it isn't of God - fight it. Don't condone it, don't tell yourself it's just a part of your past that is still haunting you. Fight. Give God everything you've got, every day.

You'll only be glad you did.

God and LOST

I was in a conversation with someone the other day when they said something that absolutely floored me. That’s the #1 reason I wish I had more conversations with people – because you never know what might be said. Sometimes it’s life-changing, “What do you think about having COWS as our spokespeople and have them saying ‘Eat More Chicken’?”, or it could be something as simple yet still illuminating as “Your shoes untied.”

In this particular conversation though, I was laughing about something to do with how I’d declare myself one of the least stressed people in the world. When suddenly I was corrected by someone else who was under the impression, based on my interactions with them, that I was one of the most stressed out people they knew.

To say I was shocked is almost an understatement. I’m rarely stressed. In physical moments of an actual event happening I may be stressed a bit, but afterwards I possess a surprising ability to not worry about things, especially things I can’t control. (Considering my family history I’d say I’m almost a prodigy in this area.) But here I was facing the charge of being severely stressed out. And upon further questioning (since I was a bit stressed over this concept) it appeared as though my intense desire to get life right seemed to be where the impression was coming from.. Maybe “right” isn’t the correct word, perhaps “perfect” would be more accurate.

I want my actions to be perfect, my words to be perfect, my thoughts to be perfect, my goals to be perfect. Small goal, right? Don't worry though; I fail miserably when I consider the target, but my aim is always the same and I find myself disappointed when I see an obvious specific mistake where I could have done something differently. I want to be like Jesus. I’ll never make it, but it will always be my aim. It is my passion, my joy, my hope; to be as much like Him as possible and draw ever closer to Him.

And my driving passion apparently makes me appear stressed instead of simply passionate.

So to clarify things for those of you who have watched my life and felt that I was stressed out – when I most definitely feel nothing of the sort; I thought I would explain the passion burning inside of me in terms you might can identify with.

Have you ever watched LOST?

I’ve watched 3 hours of it so I will begin this part by explaining that the fact that I only have 3 hours experience with it means I obviously don't "get it" and makes me unqualified to even mention the show. My lack of LOST education bugs my brother to pieces. I’ve only watched those 3 episodes because over a course of a couple of months he had won 3 weeks worth of weight loss challenges which entitled him to choose an activity for the whole family. He forced me to watch more LOST each and every week sure that this week would be the one in which I would catch the addiction he’s carrying for the series.

To say that people have been fascinated by LOST, is such a gross understatement that it’s almost like saying winter is cold in Iceland. When I researched the different theories on the plot lines I found 25,105. Is Jacob good? What is his plan? What is up with the candidates? What is the Sideways? Where is Faraday? In continued searching through countless forum entries people are considering whether or not Flocke is going to let Claire kill Kate, why isn't Kates name written on the cave ceiling, and who Wallace is and why he is the answer.

Others do their own searching so they could just click here to see the Top 10 Questions that Lost Needs to Answer. Or maybe you're happy to have the 23 Questions about LOST Episode 605 "The Lighthouse" Answered. Or maybe you've been burning with 15 Burning LOST Questions. Or for the more aggressive of my readers, you might have been searching for The 100 Questions LOST Better Answer Or We'll Be ****'ed.

Or perhaps you’re more interested in the theories?
Maybe a theory on Time Travel?
Or a theory on Jacob?
Or a Sideways theory?
Maybe you’re new to this and just want General Theories?
Or perhaps you’re intensely relieved to find out the Four Toed Statue Question has been Solved?

I could keep going. Trust me, it was hard to stop once I got started with some of the crazy stuff I was reading. This was just the best example I could find that would accurately describe what I am. It appears as thought it literally kills my brother that I won’t continue watching episodes until I’m hooked. But it’s not because the show stresses him out; but because he’s so intensely passionate about the show. He wants to know the answers to the questions the show has raised in his mind and he enjoys talking to others about their theories and questions concerning the show.

And that my friends, is how I feel about God. The struggle for perfection is just learning the plot better. Figuring out what My Writer is going to do next in the story. Doing my best to play my part as flawlessly as possible. I’m a FOUND fanatic.

Silence

I'm one of those people that tends to think they're unique. My feelings are unique, my hurts are unique, my thoughts are unique, my fears are unique.

I'm sure you're not like that. I'm sure I'm the only one that feels that way.

Or perhaps every single one of you feels that same way.

But I wonder if it's not true where God is concerned. Each of us have our own unique relationship with Him. We relate in different ways, struggle with different things, and all of us just respond to life, and God, differently.

Last week I struggled to rebound after the sudden jolt I had from a happy and fun time, to the stark reminder of the reality of my moms disease and my dads decisions. Suddenly I became quiet. I was quiet because sometimes when I talked I started crying again even if the subject was as inconsequential as dinner rolls. So I spent a few days trying not to think, talk, and especially not cry.

On Sunday morning I stayed home from church and in an empty house I began doing dishes. And it made me cry again. And I finally said what I needed to say to God. I didn't know what to say until that very moment, but suddenly it just flowed out and I spoke and I cried. It hurt.

I recognize, that you don't know me. The crazy influx of readers that have begun stopping by my blog.... some of you are old friends, but most of you are strangers. So keep reading and I'll get to the part that is about you eh?

Sunday morning, I told God I needed something that was simply an impossible request for me, and even as I asked it I knew it was impossible.

And then, as my family was about to return home I left and spent the day around town just passing time. And all day long I absolutely, positively, felt His comforting presence.
So while I didn't know what I was praying for, what I needed, I received exactly that. God could have sent a person along, but my comfort doesn't come from people. It doesn't come from physical actions or words... oh sure, those things are comforting, but nothing like the comfort that God can bring.

It's too easy for us to look for worldly comfort, physical comfort, things of this world to comfort you. But God truly wants us to find our comfort in Him. And when we ask Him for that comfort, I believe He will come through.

I didn't wax eloquent with my words, I didn't say "Lord," or solemnly close with "In Jesus name, Amen".
I just cried out.
And He heard my cry.

He WILL do the same for you. He will see you through the dark nights when the money isn't there, the test results aren't good, and when the boss announces that there are layoffs coming. All you have to do is open your mouth and say the words in your heart. He can hear you even when you whisper.

Series - Walking the talk. (1.01)

I started this blog September 25th, 2005 and since then I've written 1, 151 posts.

And I still haven't figured out how to do what I've been blogging about all of this time.

It makes me feel anxious, twisted up inside and more than a little frustrated as I write each and every post because I believe the words I write from the very bottom of my heart - yet I haven't figured out how to do it.

My posts *typically* all talk about walking the walk, not with a Sunday attitude but with a life changing every day attitude so that every day, every moment, every encounter in life is touched by God's hand and His anointing in your life. Not that we won't fail and stumble once in awhile, but that we will do our utmost to live as He would have us to live. Every day. Every word. Every thought. Every action.

But I've struggled with it because apart from becoming a missionary and going over to Africa or something - I haven't figured out how to do that as an HR worker, a Customer service person, a newspaper person, a piano player. So despite the fact that I want it more than life - I've never figured out how exactly to do it.

But in the last week I've found something interesting. I've begun studying the Bible.

I've never been good at that before, I can read it no problemo, but when it comes to studying I've always failed miserably and felt as though I was just making up things to do. But now, this week, I've been studying. And here's what I've found.

Ephesians 5.

I've been studying out the words and references and I now have something more than my "feeling" that God loves us but scripture proof that the God of love and Holiness has a heart of love towards us that we can trust. (You wouldn't think that would be up for debate, but in my house it is and I can't just say He loves us, I need scriptures to back up my knowledge.) That's the difference between studying out certain thoughts and just reading.

I've also found some words that were difficult to read sometimes. I'm going to go more into them later, and you'll be able to watch this journey some I suppose as I try and accomplish what it says, but I'm going to live as the Bible directs me to. And I've got the instructions for the game now, and I understand them (for the most part) so we're going to see what happens.

Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children;
And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour.
But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints;
Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks.
For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.
Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience.
Be not ye therefore partakers with them.
For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light:
(For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth;)
Proving what is acceptable unto the Lord.
And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.
For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.
But all things that are reproved are made manifest by the light: for whatsoever doth make manifest is light.
Wherefore he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.
See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise,
Redeeming the time, because the days are evil.
Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is.
And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;
Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord;
Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;
Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God.

I stopped there but that's not the end of the chapter. I'm going to work on living out the instructions in chapter 5. This week I'll be focusing on something very difficult for me. "No foolish talking."

I'm a queen at it. I can make a joke of anything and carry it on and on and on until half the world would gladly beat me to a pulp with anything handy. So I am going to focus on not talking foolishly. I don't believe it means I can't have a sense of humor, but I think it's possible to do both and do both with purpose rather than just blurting out whatever comes to mind.

Pray I do well.