I forget just how spoiled I am. Until we have thunderous storms like today and find ourselves devoid of electricity. And then we have nothing to do. By the end of the day when Travis offered a generator even the luxury of lamplight seemed a privilege of rare proportions.
It's good to be reminded of all the "extra" things I enjoy without a second thought.
It's good to be reminded where I was without Christ, as I read Romans again today. I read Romans a lot and, in spite of having memorized it a couple of years ago (thanks to Tabitha's encouragement), I always discover how little I actually know. For the last couple of weeks I've been answering in my own mind the questions that others put to me and I hope to have written thoughts to share soon--for feedback. You know, it's not really fair to read my thoughts and not share your own. (Ahem, Jacinda...Hannah...Sarah...and others.) ;)
I need a shower. The generator, unfortunately, didn't suffice to get our well-pump running.
If you read this, tell me something amazing about the Lord.
Showing posts with label journaling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journaling. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My mind has definitely switched back “on.” I think I’ve thought a million thoughts this week, but can’t remember a single thread of them.
A quick life update:
The Schriebers moved here from Illinois at the first of the month. Glenn and Papa met online several years ago and Glenn has steadily pursued a friendship with Papa, even traveling to visit and encourage us when we lived in Kansas. For several years now they have desired to move and be near us, but this was the first time they were able to sell their house and order things to allow for the move. They've always lived in the same vicinity--the adjustment for them will be huge! On our part, we are delighted to finally have church fellowship. As in any fellowship, we'll have to get used to each other and learn to prefer each other in honor.
“Of all things,” Josiah said sadly one day, bearing a dustpan into the kitchen, “I stepped on a bat.” The poor fluttermousse lay panting, his wings bent and his webbed tail spread out. He must have already lay expiring on the cold garage floor before Josiah’s bare foot discovered him. Perhaps it’s a hopeful sign that more of his kind linger in the nearby woods, ready to annihilate the army of gnats that has encompassed us. This valiant departed assailant had to be laid to rest in the woods shortly after supper, his last breath gone on the wings of time. This was shortly after our visit to the Mystic Caverns where we expressed our desire to have bats move in around our house to help with the insect overpopulation.
I finally sat down and sorted through a million things I'd stacked in my "think about when I get a chance" file. I worked through some of my fleshly cravings for fulfillment to be reminded of the truth that Jesus is all and does all good. I waded through some of the circumstances and issues that confused me a year ago and caught my breath at the perspective I saw--from just a year away. Circumstances are just circumstances. Sure, God allows them. But they bear little weight when measured against truth. And sometimes truth demands time to become more clear. For the first time in my life I am not confused. I think I am finally beginning to grasp the balance between true patience and my own supposed patience, true love and my supposed forebearance. True love is so hard--takes so much time and effort, seeking someone else's best interest through scripture, wisdom and kindness and seeking to base my actions on that--not simply saying what they desire to hear or giving what they want or doing what they want. It's painful--but nothing like the cross, the nails and God's rejection which Jesus suffered for me.
I was listening carefully to Papa’s voice one day as he read the expanded version of First John when the dive-bombing occurred. A mosquito-eater tumbled out of the sky and bounced onto the table, just inches from my Bible, then clumsily bobbled across the table and off the edge. His mission must have remained unfinished since he repeated the performance twice more before disappearing from the scene of conquest.
I finally got a tetanus booster, a week later for five dollars at the Health Department. My foot was entirely healed.
Lauryn got fish. I wish I could even retell the history of her tank of five finned friends and the dramatic disappearance of Pinky Tuscadero and Fred. Falsely accused, Hot Lips was detained in solitary confinement for further questioning until Fred reappeared. Thus began operation "rescue Pinky Tuscadero" which ended happily with Hot Lips being cleared and the whole family being reunited with joy and laughter.
We watched Miss Lauryn direct the Dtown Highschool Choirs--complete with choreography that screamed her name. She did a fabulous job. Is anyone surprised? She graduated with honors a few days later, along with Emily, Shoko, Donnie and Stacy. We spent the day either in bleachers or at parties--parties according the the believers here consist of prayer, encouragement, good food, praise and lots of love--well and sometimes some volleyball.
Originally I told Angela I'd help her photograph her friend's wedding. Then she agreed to become the wedding coordinator, which loaded her down with responsibilities. But it freed up her camera. In fact, I enjoyed our teamwork--I did all the photography, she did all the bossing.
It was about ten o'clock when Nathaniel called a very pregnant Lauren to ask for a ride. See, a group was playing "Fugitive" and Nathaniel, Donnie, Tommy and Dathan had worked out a perfect strategy for eluding the cops. Lauren and I hopped in the car. Well, actually, I hopped, she plumped. Being pregnant slows down activity and Lauren is VERY pregnant. As the four boys crowded into the back of my car I had one thing to say, "you guys smell amazing." Tommy's voice piped up, "What do you mean by amazing?" Folks, those guys normally have great hygiene--Tommy even reputedly smells "dewicious"--but that night they smell amazingly BAD. Their strategy paid off with a winning game!
Lately I've been blessed by April's company. In fact, we discovered that we wear the same size of clothes--she's just six inches taller. Sadly, she looks much cuter in my clothes than I do.
I've been following up on Christy's clients at the clinic. Sometimes as I open a file to decide what course of action to take next I am overwhelmed by the stark sadness in the notes she left--abuse, taking advantage, broken hearts, substance abuse, abortions, devastation. I closed files that were years old. For years Christy has faithfully waded through sad situation after sad situation. The Lord has been at work in my mind and heart--finally I am able to weep as I read a file, pray for that poor girl, close the file and walk away knowing that the Lord is the only One who can save--any of us.
Jess graduated highschool. Dathan had never met her, but he cheered the loudest. Even did a special cheer for her. Of course, he was cheering and shouting names for almost all the rest of the graduates. And clapping so widely he nearly smashed my face in. Without the least embarrassment. I was almost embarrassed, sitting next to him as he thoroughly enjoyed himself at a highschool graduation where he knew no one.
Papa is back at work, but has had weekends off so far! A huge blessing!
And just when the grass is growing more quickly than a child, all our lawnmowers decide to go on emergency medical leave. One is leaking oil. A blown gasket? One destroyed its own blade belt. Too much stress? And one has been in pieces in the barn all year. If we could find all the hardware for it underneath the Schriebers extra stuff that's being stored in it, we might put it back together and sell it.
It's a strange thing. I'd been exhausted for months, dragging myself out of bed each day, struggling to stay awake during Bible reading or prayer, going to sleep any time I sat down and sleeping hard. Lately I've rediscovered quiet time--alone time with Jesus. Perhaps it's just been emotional exhaustion that leaves me zapped. At any rate, I am at rest--with energy again. And thoroughly enjoying the Lord's lovingkindnesses.
A quick life update:
The Schriebers moved here from Illinois at the first of the month. Glenn and Papa met online several years ago and Glenn has steadily pursued a friendship with Papa, even traveling to visit and encourage us when we lived in Kansas. For several years now they have desired to move and be near us, but this was the first time they were able to sell their house and order things to allow for the move. They've always lived in the same vicinity--the adjustment for them will be huge! On our part, we are delighted to finally have church fellowship. As in any fellowship, we'll have to get used to each other and learn to prefer each other in honor.
“Of all things,” Josiah said sadly one day, bearing a dustpan into the kitchen, “I stepped on a bat.” The poor fluttermousse lay panting, his wings bent and his webbed tail spread out. He must have already lay expiring on the cold garage floor before Josiah’s bare foot discovered him. Perhaps it’s a hopeful sign that more of his kind linger in the nearby woods, ready to annihilate the army of gnats that has encompassed us. This valiant departed assailant had to be laid to rest in the woods shortly after supper, his last breath gone on the wings of time. This was shortly after our visit to the Mystic Caverns where we expressed our desire to have bats move in around our house to help with the insect overpopulation.
I finally sat down and sorted through a million things I'd stacked in my "think about when I get a chance" file. I worked through some of my fleshly cravings for fulfillment to be reminded of the truth that Jesus is all and does all good. I waded through some of the circumstances and issues that confused me a year ago and caught my breath at the perspective I saw--from just a year away. Circumstances are just circumstances. Sure, God allows them. But they bear little weight when measured against truth. And sometimes truth demands time to become more clear. For the first time in my life I am not confused. I think I am finally beginning to grasp the balance between true patience and my own supposed patience, true love and my supposed forebearance. True love is so hard--takes so much time and effort, seeking someone else's best interest through scripture, wisdom and kindness and seeking to base my actions on that--not simply saying what they desire to hear or giving what they want or doing what they want. It's painful--but nothing like the cross, the nails and God's rejection which Jesus suffered for me.
I was listening carefully to Papa’s voice one day as he read the expanded version of First John when the dive-bombing occurred. A mosquito-eater tumbled out of the sky and bounced onto the table, just inches from my Bible, then clumsily bobbled across the table and off the edge. His mission must have remained unfinished since he repeated the performance twice more before disappearing from the scene of conquest.
I finally got a tetanus booster, a week later for five dollars at the Health Department. My foot was entirely healed.
Lauryn got fish. I wish I could even retell the history of her tank of five finned friends and the dramatic disappearance of Pinky Tuscadero and Fred. Falsely accused, Hot Lips was detained in solitary confinement for further questioning until Fred reappeared. Thus began operation "rescue Pinky Tuscadero" which ended happily with Hot Lips being cleared and the whole family being reunited with joy and laughter.
We watched Miss Lauryn direct the Dtown Highschool Choirs--complete with choreography that screamed her name. She did a fabulous job. Is anyone surprised? She graduated with honors a few days later, along with Emily, Shoko, Donnie and Stacy. We spent the day either in bleachers or at parties--parties according the the believers here consist of prayer, encouragement, good food, praise and lots of love--well and sometimes some volleyball.
Originally I told Angela I'd help her photograph her friend's wedding. Then she agreed to become the wedding coordinator, which loaded her down with responsibilities. But it freed up her camera. In fact, I enjoyed our teamwork--I did all the photography, she did all the bossing.
It was about ten o'clock when Nathaniel called a very pregnant Lauren to ask for a ride. See, a group was playing "Fugitive" and Nathaniel, Donnie, Tommy and Dathan had worked out a perfect strategy for eluding the cops. Lauren and I hopped in the car. Well, actually, I hopped, she plumped. Being pregnant slows down activity and Lauren is VERY pregnant. As the four boys crowded into the back of my car I had one thing to say, "you guys smell amazing." Tommy's voice piped up, "What do you mean by amazing?" Folks, those guys normally have great hygiene--Tommy even reputedly smells "dewicious"--but that night they smell amazingly BAD. Their strategy paid off with a winning game!
Lately I've been blessed by April's company. In fact, we discovered that we wear the same size of clothes--she's just six inches taller. Sadly, she looks much cuter in my clothes than I do.
I've been following up on Christy's clients at the clinic. Sometimes as I open a file to decide what course of action to take next I am overwhelmed by the stark sadness in the notes she left--abuse, taking advantage, broken hearts, substance abuse, abortions, devastation. I closed files that were years old. For years Christy has faithfully waded through sad situation after sad situation. The Lord has been at work in my mind and heart--finally I am able to weep as I read a file, pray for that poor girl, close the file and walk away knowing that the Lord is the only One who can save--any of us.
Jess graduated highschool. Dathan had never met her, but he cheered the loudest. Even did a special cheer for her. Of course, he was cheering and shouting names for almost all the rest of the graduates. And clapping so widely he nearly smashed my face in. Without the least embarrassment. I was almost embarrassed, sitting next to him as he thoroughly enjoyed himself at a highschool graduation where he knew no one.
Papa is back at work, but has had weekends off so far! A huge blessing!
And just when the grass is growing more quickly than a child, all our lawnmowers decide to go on emergency medical leave. One is leaking oil. A blown gasket? One destroyed its own blade belt. Too much stress? And one has been in pieces in the barn all year. If we could find all the hardware for it underneath the Schriebers extra stuff that's being stored in it, we might put it back together and sell it.
It's a strange thing. I'd been exhausted for months, dragging myself out of bed each day, struggling to stay awake during Bible reading or prayer, going to sleep any time I sat down and sleeping hard. Lately I've rediscovered quiet time--alone time with Jesus. Perhaps it's just been emotional exhaustion that leaves me zapped. At any rate, I am at rest--with energy again. And thoroughly enjoying the Lord's lovingkindnesses.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Skipping a day in my journal is a phenomenon that usually indicates extraordinary circumstances. Yesterday was no exception. Late morning found me dumping all my photography equipment in a pile on my bed for sorting and inventory. “You have three cameras?” Lydia marveled. Actually, I had three almost cameras. All gifts. One only for parts. One given to me because the flash hot-shoe didn’t work. My favorite, precious Canon AE-1 refuses to respond to a cable release, and I feared it had kicked the bucket since it no longer would wind or fire—until I changed the battery. Mr. electrical whiz Josiah fixed the connections on the hot-shoe of the other and I know have two very good cameras. Loading the Canon, I headed outside for a long overdue shoot and was nearly swept off my feet by the rather gusty enthusiasm of Mr. Wind. Returning some time later I discovered the house dark and silent—not because it was deserted, but because the electricity was out—and remained out until after lunch today. Sixty-mile-per-hour winds we heard reported. With our electricity out and unable to write, play piano or work on the budget I decided to wash up the dishes only to discover naught but a trickle of water. It never crossed my mind that the well-pump runs on volts and amps as well.
Angela had made plans to come here for supper and to borrow my “movie making expertise” on a video she’s working on for a missions banquet. I’ll be an award-winning director yet. Sadly, since my real dream is simply to write children’s books. Devoid of both light and water, I called her up and asked if we could bring supper over to The Loft and work our movie magic there, to which she assented, unaware that she also was without electricity. Supper was compiled completely in the dark. In the middle of preparation, amid giggles (what else can you expect from three 20-something girls in the dark?) a moan of deepest agony escaped Mom. “No, no, no!” she wailed, to which we worriedly chorused, “What?” “I brought the container of corn instead of chicken!” We rushed over to the stove where the light from a scented candle bounced off of the hand mirror lodged in a toaster, casting a ring of faint golden light around the mystery dish. Issues aside, dinner was delicious, entertaining and romantically lit by about a half-million tea-lights.
Arrived home shortly after nine I became aware of another sad fact—my electric blanket also lacked the energy to keep me warm. I rummaged through my china cabinet/hope chest and the linen closet in my bathroom and slathered my bed with every blanket I could find. I slept warmly enough that getting up this morning seemed far more than unpleasant. “You looked like you could eat my head off at breakfast this morning,” Lydia confided later. “You looked that grumpy.” I hadn’t intended to look grumpy. Actually, I was more on the side of miserable—cold, sleepy, tired of the dark—than grumpy.
That’s my excuse for not writing last night. We all spent the rest of today “catching up” from yesterday and last night.
I’m behind in my Bible reading and losing momentum.
Lord, Thou conquered darkest night
And turned our darkness into light
That we could follow without fear
And now, through seeing, Thou art near.
And as we seek Thy righteousness
We find Thee waiting by to bless
Our path shines brighter than the dawn
And we can see how far we’ve gone.
Angela had made plans to come here for supper and to borrow my “movie making expertise” on a video she’s working on for a missions banquet. I’ll be an award-winning director yet. Sadly, since my real dream is simply to write children’s books. Devoid of both light and water, I called her up and asked if we could bring supper over to The Loft and work our movie magic there, to which she assented, unaware that she also was without electricity. Supper was compiled completely in the dark. In the middle of preparation, amid giggles (what else can you expect from three 20-something girls in the dark?) a moan of deepest agony escaped Mom. “No, no, no!” she wailed, to which we worriedly chorused, “What?” “I brought the container of corn instead of chicken!” We rushed over to the stove where the light from a scented candle bounced off of the hand mirror lodged in a toaster, casting a ring of faint golden light around the mystery dish. Issues aside, dinner was delicious, entertaining and romantically lit by about a half-million tea-lights.
Arrived home shortly after nine I became aware of another sad fact—my electric blanket also lacked the energy to keep me warm. I rummaged through my china cabinet/hope chest and the linen closet in my bathroom and slathered my bed with every blanket I could find. I slept warmly enough that getting up this morning seemed far more than unpleasant. “You looked like you could eat my head off at breakfast this morning,” Lydia confided later. “You looked that grumpy.” I hadn’t intended to look grumpy. Actually, I was more on the side of miserable—cold, sleepy, tired of the dark—than grumpy.
That’s my excuse for not writing last night. We all spent the rest of today “catching up” from yesterday and last night.
I’m behind in my Bible reading and losing momentum.
Lord, Thou conquered darkest night
And turned our darkness into light
That we could follow without fear
And now, through seeing, Thou art near.
And as we seek Thy righteousness
We find Thee waiting by to bless
Our path shines brighter than the dawn
And we can see how far we’ve gone.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
My thoughts are scattered to the four winds and, since they tend to be heavy, are likely an environmental hazard. I have absolutely no hope, no desire and no reason to gather them into a presentable bouquet. In fact, my journaling impetus is nearly as dead as our lawnmower transmission. Why do I make the effort to record the life of one speck of sand on the vast seashore of time? As if they way in which the tidal waves move that single grain were somehow marvelous in the grand panorama. To those gazing at the scene, the drama unfolds, not in the lapping of the waves against the shore, but in the rising of the sun—as it should be. But could I be counted worthy to reflect back but the faintest gleam of that sun ball’s glory, I should be content.
It’s past eleven and I’m typing in the dark, hoping no one will realize I’m still awake and stirring. We’re barely home from supper at the Thomas’ house. Fettuccine Alfredo. The dish Audrey fixed Wes when they were dating. “I’ve got it made,” he thought, savoring the delicate herbs. “This woman can cook!” He soon discovered that she could cook—fettuccine alfredo—only. My head is drooping; my eyes are dry, my vision growing fuzzy. I know I will sleep through my five o’clock CD alarm clock. On purpose. But I’ve got to finish this entry. Why? Because it’s become tradition. Always, before I go to bed, I write in my journal.
God’s sovereignty is growing as I read Genesis. Growing in my recognition, at least. Don’t ask me to explain it. If I could understand His workings, I’d be something more than the ignorant, little girl I am. Understand, never. Recognize, yes. Certainly. Without a doubt. As I follow the journey of Abraham, not only from Ur to Cana’an, but also from idolatry to being a friend of God, I am struck by God’s choice. Indescribable. Did Abraham choose Yahweh? He didn’t even know Him. Yahweh chose Abraham and led him, step by step into a deep relationship with Himself, a covenant dependant only on God. And Isaac, the son of promise, did He choose God? He was born into the covenant, by the miraculous work of God in regeneration, and led by God through God’s sovereign choice. Jacob and Esau, the twin sons of Isaac, of whom God prophesied, “The older shall become the younger’s slave” and further said “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.” Both born into the covenant, yet only one received the blessing. Why? I don’t know. How? I don’t know. But the fact of the matter remains: God chooses us. There are many things we don’t know about God. Sometimes He seems to have two sides: one merciful and loving, the other harsh and angry. So much we don’t understand. Why does He do what He does? Why does He allow what He does? Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? Why does He save whom He saves and harden whom He desires? Does it matter? Would we understand should He part heaven and earth and sit down among us to explain? Trapped inside of time, can we hope to see the finished picture as He does? He has revealed to us His character. To that we should cling and be satisfied that He who formed the ear is not deaf, He who made the seeing eye is not blind, and He who is outside of time is not slow. He who built the universe and wrote the program for its operation is surely capable of fulfilling His purpose in every event, and He will surely not be thwarted in anything He has set His mind to do.
Lord, Thy sovereignty supreme
Is far above the mental dream
That I call intellect, and so
I come before Thee, bow down low
And own Thy wisdom far beyond
The scope or limit of time’s dawn.
For Thou who hung the world on naught
Need not, by Thy own work, be taught.
It’s past eleven and I’m typing in the dark, hoping no one will realize I’m still awake and stirring. We’re barely home from supper at the Thomas’ house. Fettuccine Alfredo. The dish Audrey fixed Wes when they were dating. “I’ve got it made,” he thought, savoring the delicate herbs. “This woman can cook!” He soon discovered that she could cook—fettuccine alfredo—only. My head is drooping; my eyes are dry, my vision growing fuzzy. I know I will sleep through my five o’clock CD alarm clock. On purpose. But I’ve got to finish this entry. Why? Because it’s become tradition. Always, before I go to bed, I write in my journal.
God’s sovereignty is growing as I read Genesis. Growing in my recognition, at least. Don’t ask me to explain it. If I could understand His workings, I’d be something more than the ignorant, little girl I am. Understand, never. Recognize, yes. Certainly. Without a doubt. As I follow the journey of Abraham, not only from Ur to Cana’an, but also from idolatry to being a friend of God, I am struck by God’s choice. Indescribable. Did Abraham choose Yahweh? He didn’t even know Him. Yahweh chose Abraham and led him, step by step into a deep relationship with Himself, a covenant dependant only on God. And Isaac, the son of promise, did He choose God? He was born into the covenant, by the miraculous work of God in regeneration, and led by God through God’s sovereign choice. Jacob and Esau, the twin sons of Isaac, of whom God prophesied, “The older shall become the younger’s slave” and further said “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.” Both born into the covenant, yet only one received the blessing. Why? I don’t know. How? I don’t know. But the fact of the matter remains: God chooses us. There are many things we don’t know about God. Sometimes He seems to have two sides: one merciful and loving, the other harsh and angry. So much we don’t understand. Why does He do what He does? Why does He allow what He does? Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? Why does He save whom He saves and harden whom He desires? Does it matter? Would we understand should He part heaven and earth and sit down among us to explain? Trapped inside of time, can we hope to see the finished picture as He does? He has revealed to us His character. To that we should cling and be satisfied that He who formed the ear is not deaf, He who made the seeing eye is not blind, and He who is outside of time is not slow. He who built the universe and wrote the program for its operation is surely capable of fulfilling His purpose in every event, and He will surely not be thwarted in anything He has set His mind to do.
Lord, Thy sovereignty supreme
Is far above the mental dream
That I call intellect, and so
I come before Thee, bow down low
And own Thy wisdom far beyond
The scope or limit of time’s dawn.
For Thou who hung the world on naught
Need not, by Thy own work, be taught.
Friday, November 2, 2007
I am the definition of an avid journalist.
But somehow, through the unresponsive and therefore nonjudgmental “listening” provided by this unwitting page, I can come to terms with myself, my faults and my future plans of action.
Tonight I ask the Lord, “What would You like me to do?”
The answer is clear: Tomorrow I will ask each parent, “What would you like me to do?”
Asking is the easy part. Tomorrow, I must cheerfully obey.
Lord, the light Thou gives is bright
My eyes of flesh can’t bear the sight.
Surrender is a painful task—
It means I do whate’er Thou ask.
And when Thou ask that I obey
It means I do whate’er they say.
It’s here that Love is put to test
For it may never, ever rest.