This Moment Contains All Moments

all my fountains

2011-08-30T17:55:00.005-05:00

She was hard to miss in that neighborhood, dancing atop an egg-covered sidewalk, temperatures so high she just knew an omelet was soon to appear beneath her feet. As I pulled to a stop in front of the sign on her street, she knelt for a moment to examine a runny yolk then allowed the stillness of the air to lead her swiftly through her yard, the browning grass snapping as she began to leap about and land in one small patch and then another. She curtsied to a royal audience only she could see and lifted her chin to the sky, blond curls escaping from the knot at her neck and settling around her head like a veil on a bride. With a spin, she skipped to the shadows of the brick wall supporting her house and, bowing low, knelt to pick up a small umbrella lying in the grass.

With the determined march of what can only be described as a woman on a mission, she made her way across the driveway: goggles on her head, shoes missing from her feet, and a nod of acknowledgement ready for the lady retrieving mail next door.

Her parade led her to a lone sprinkler spitting out sustenance, a metal head bringing life to a dying ground. She bent her knees in the direction of the spout and thrust the umbrella between her and the sun. In one long jump, she pounced and moved beneath the stream, pink plastic shielding girl from water.

I watched as she stared up at the waltz of the water flitting across the top of the umbrella. Small fingers traced the reflection of each droplet as they gleefully slid off the edge and into the puddle awaiting their arrival. As the puddle rose and covered her toes, she twisted the umbrella’s crooked handle and allowed the dome above her head to collapse before her eyes.

She let out a surprised squeal as the now-forgotten shield rolled to the curb, and the water from above began to fall on unadorned shoulders. She loosened the fists that had formed when the first cool drop hit her skin and lifted her fingers toward the source. As her little hands tried to grab hold of the liquid raining on her, her body carried her forward, wanting to be as close as possible to the fountainhead.

As I drove past this little girl, wet curls flat against her scalp, I saw her close her eyes, unaware of all that was around her, until a moment came, when she opened her eyes and saw someone else that would benefit from the spray of water. Running toward him, she giggled and tried to explain what it felt like to stretch to the heavens and let refreshment come, to accept the incoming of water, those little drops of grace.

In this season of life, caught up in this Texas-drought, it only takes a second glance to find another person who seems to be walking through dry lands in search of a spring, a pond, any place with fertile ground where they can bury their roots. We’ve become a sea of thirsty-souls, dry throats begging for just a bit of something to quench our need. Yet instead of scratching to find the source, we throw up umbrellas and stare at the sun, wondering why we can’t feel the rain.

Now, with a new semester starting, I can’t help but wonder what I’m holding over my head: what I have now that I believe will satisfy me, and what I don’t have but hope will fill me. If I stood outside and stared at the heavens, would I feel the rain, or have I become comfortable under my umbrella? Am I holding my friends, my family, my job, my academic achievements, my successes, my failures over my head and expecting these things to actually end my drought? Am I dragging around a longing for more money, a future husband, a diploma, a trip to a beautiful country, and believing that once I have these things then I’ll feel the breathtaking sensation of water on my face? Or have I set down everything holding me back and thrown myself in front of the metal sprinkler?

Jesus, You said that if anyone thirsts, he should come to you and drink. We're so thirsty, Lord, and sometimes I think we're so dehydrated we barely realize it. Help us realize that You alone are the source of all that we crave, and the sweet water that we've been hunting for. Take hold of all that we are currently holding onto and give us the strength to leave it on this dry earth, so that we may close our eyes and dance in the sweet rain of Your presence. It is You who refreshes us, you who are called the Living Water. And we want more of you. So much more. Open the heavens, Lord. We’re in need of some rain.

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light.” (Psalm 36:7-9)

2011-06-28T16:43:00.022-05:00

Someone reading this has just received that one piece of news she prayed would never come. Someone reading this just felt a final push that has sent her tumbling over the edge she's held onto for so long. Someone reading this just swallowed a sob, a wish to return to the moment before the ground started breaking below her feet.

Someone reading this just needs to know there is Another Someone out there who understands what she's feeling. Someone reading this just needs to feel that she can curl up next to Another Someone and lean on Him and collapse in His arms. Someone reading this just needs to trust she can count on Another Someone to hold her close and never let go. Someone reading this just needs to believe now - when all seems broken, and everything hurts - that Another Someone has not stopped loving her with the deepest passion and cannot help but feel every ache that's breaking her heart. Someone reading this just needs to realize that Another Someone, steady and stable and sovereign, is waiting for her to fall at His feet and find out He is Comfort. and Peace. and Joy, even now.

Someone reading this just needs to look beyond her current circumstances and fix her eyes on Another Someone, the One who hears and responds to the whispered prayers she cries to the heavens:

"Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my vision, O Ruler of All"

church camp

2011-06-20T10:21:00.014-05:00

It’s here. You might have seen the effects of it yesterday morning, maybe the week before that. If it hasn’t happened in your town, don’t think it’s not coming. It’s coming. It is coming. And you’ll probably go along with it. You’ll probably even send your little brother and sister off with everybody else. So young. So innocent. But wave good-bye because they will never be the same.

What am I talking about? Church camp.

Ohhh, yes. It’s all fun and games until the passion-filled worship nights start, and then your friends start crying and you start crying and everybody’s crying and suddenly you realize you’re a terrible person who needs Jesus. It’s true. You need Jesus.

Then you wake up Friday morning, grab your stuff, head home. And you are SO pumped about going back with a clean slate. You walk around hugging everyone and giving high-fives to strangers. It doesn’t even matter that your bus broke down in the middle of a Texas summer, or that you’ve sacrificed your personal space to be around like, 150 teenagers singing “Don’t Stop Believing” in a vehicle that no longer has A/C. It doesn’t even matter. You just love Jesus, y’all.

And then you get home, and you unpack, and you go to sleep, wake up - but today is different, it’s going to be different - you go to sleep - SUNDAY! YEAH! - go to sleep, wake up - and then Monday rolls around.

The alarm goes off, and you’re back to work, back to class, back to life. And some of the enthusiasm has rolled off, but you want your life to be different. What you experienced was real. You got a taste of this huge God, a beautiful Savior, and you want more.

But what was it that drew you in? Your precious Jesus, suffering on a tree? Your Redeemer, who had on his head not a crown honoring His majesty, but thorns cutting His skin? Your Master, who had on his hands and feet not gold to represent His inestimable worth, but nails piercing His flesh?

What was it that caused those tears to start to flow when the worship kicked in and the speaker began to pray? You closed your eyes, and instantly, the weight of who you were and what you had done was pressed on your shoulders. You felt almost nauseous as you realized that you had tried so hard to succeed, but even your best attempts had failed you. All around you the noises began to fade, and you heard the story of a God who sent His beloved son to the world “to reconcile to Himself all things... by making peace through His blood, shed on the cross. Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now He has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation.” (Col 1:20-23) And you could barely wrap your mind around it, but suddenly you saw the beauty of the cross: you did nothing, and you didn’t deserve it, but the blood of the Son of God covered your failures. And you couldn't help but cry out for strength “to continue in your faith, established and firm, [so that you] do not move from the hope held out in the gospel.” (Col 1:23)

But now it’s Monday.

Oh, “God, hold us to that which drew us first, when the Cross was the attraction, and we wanted nothing else.”

That was missionary Amy Carmichael’s prayer. In her book, Gold Cord, she told about a time when her fellowship in South India greatly required more human help. She wrote to pastors “asking if they had any women wholly devoted to [her] Lord and separate in spirit from the world who were likely to be free for such work.” Their response?” ‘Not only have we no women, but we do not know even one woman of the kind you want.’”

Ouch.

Amy Carmichael led a group of Indian girls, called the “Sisters of the Common Life.” These were girls who had experienced that Thursday-night-at-church-camp moment and had seen the Cross, but instead of going back to what they had known before, what Christ had saved them from, they continued “seeking to live a life of unreserved devotion” to their Lord.

“When a soul sets out to find God it does not know whither it will come and by what path it will be led; but those who catch the vision are ready to follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth, regardless of what that following may involve for them. And it is as they follow, obedient to what they have seen, in this spirit of joyful adventure, that their path becomes clear before them, and they are given the power to fulfill their high calling. They are those who have the courage to break through conventionalities, who care not at all what the world thinks of them, because they are entirely taken up with the tremendous realities of the soul and God.” (Bishop Bardsley)

I keep wondering what would happen if an Amy Carmichael of this generation asked our church pastors for “women wholly devoted to our Lord and separate in spirit from the world.” Because many of us have definitely had a moment where we've realized our need for Christ and recognized what His death and resurrection meant. But... now it’s Monday. How would your pastor respond? Would he say shake his head sadly, and say, "Not only have we no women, but we do not know even one woman of the kind you want"?

Please, God. "Hold us to that which drew us first, when the Cross was the attraction, and we wanted nothing else.”

It's only through the grace of God that we are drawn back to the foot of the Cross, and we must continue to diligently seek the One who called us, asking Him to keep us there.

The Sisters of the Common Life signed the following confession of love, which I pray will be what describes our day in and day out moments, not just the highlights from a few nights at camp, now that we belong to Christ.

“My vow.
Whatsoever Thou sayest unto me, by Thy grace I will do it.

My Constraint.
Thy love, O Christ, my Lord.

My Confidence.
“Thou art able to keep that which I have committed unto Thee.

My Joy.
To do Thy will, O God.

My Discipline.
That which I would not choose, but which Thy love appoints.

My Prayer.
Conform my will to Thine.

My Motto.
Love to live: Live to love.

My Portion.
The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance.

“Teach us, good Lord, to serve Thee more faithfully; to give and not to count the cost; to fight and not to heed the wounds; to toil and not to seek for rest; to labor and not to ask for any reward, save that of knowing that we do Thy will, O Lord our God.”

a letter to juliet

2011-02-16T20:42:00.017-06:00

She’s a girl who’s always moving: it’s what makes her pauses so profound. When you’re walking beside her, and you notice she’s taken a beat to process what’s around her, you know the next phrase out of her mouth will be the one that changes the tempo.

The day was beautiful. Large puddles on the ground reflected the sunshine through the naked trees, a painting of the remains of winter and the promises of spring. She, sixth grader Juliet, was bouncing along beside me, her blue eyes sparkling like the water on the ground until she stomped and sent the ripples running for dry grass.

She stopped for a moment as we walked along the trail and looked up at me. She complains about being too tall, but she’s still not able to look me straight in the eyes without lifting her chin. “If you know why, can’t you just tell me?”

She’d been talking about the way they make her feel. The populars. The ones that she’s not envious of and would never idolize, but the ones that leave her tongue-tied and guarded. The ones that always leave her feeling like an idiot if she stands there, and a loser if she speaks.

So what? I asked. So what if they think you’re an idiot? What’s the worse thing they could possibly think about you, and what’s the worst thing that could come of them thinking it?

She blinked. “I don’t know. I just don’t want them to think I’m stupid.”

So? If they think you’re stupid, what happens then? Why does it matter what they say?

She stood still. “I don’t know.”

Do you think if you knew why their opinions matter so much, you could find a way to feel free?

She kept walking but glanced up at me again. It’s what she wants. To feel free. To know peace. As soon as the word came out, we both recognized the chains wrapping her up, messing with her mind, leaving her frustrated, intimidated, tongue-tied, insecure.

She pulled at her hair until the right words finally came out. “I hate feeling like this.” She stepped around one last area of mud and squinted up at the sky. The sun fell slowly through the trees and cast shadows on my car in the corner of the lot. Her hand caught on the car door, and she hesitated before climbing inside.

“What would you do?” On top of the dashboard, pinks and oranges swirled together and stretched across a sky which seemed to go on forever. At the end of the road, she shut my car door and said good night. My heart instantly started speaking the prayers my mind longed for as her pony-tailed head followed the pinks and oranges straight into the dark.

Dear Juliet,

Don’t you ever for a second doubt your worth. Not for one second. Not because you couldn’t think of anything to say when one of your populars asked you a question. Not because you’re thinking there’s a good chance that they’re right: you really are an idiot.

What they say or think about you does not determine your identity. The more you treat these people as a mirror which reflects who you are, the more fragile you become. Your entire personhood is left for them to decide. Doesn't that explain why you're feeling so insecure right now? But don’t run from people and start digging into your soul to try to find yourself. It’s tempting, but going on an Eat, Pray, Love soul-search will only leave you empty. And possibly 20 pounds heavier.

So, here’s the deal: it doesn’t matter so much who you are, but Whose you are.

Really let the next words soak in.

Ezekiel 16:6 says that the Lord “passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, [He] said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ [He] said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’” We’re a mess on our own. I mean, we are literally wallowing in our own blood. What an awful image. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. On your own, you’re a terrible person. A sinful, selfish person following the course of this world. Don’t get offended. I’m the same way.

[But God], being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, [even when] we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ – by grace you have been saved – so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. (Eph. 2:4-5, 7)

Ephesians 1:3-10 says that the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ chose us in Him before the foundation of the world. In love He predestined us for adoption as [daughters] through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will, to the praise of His glorious grace. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of His will, according to His purpose, which He set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth.

There’s your identity. Right there. Did you catch it? “In Him.” Not through others’ approval. Not within yourself. In Jesus Christ.

You're so loved, amiga. Personally. Intimately. Jeremiah 31:3 says that the God of the world loves you “with an everlasting love.” In Zechariah 2:8, He calls you the “apple of His eye.” (Zechariah 2:8)

Let those glorious truths sink in. It's not an exaggeration. I'm not trying to make you feel better. This is real. You may not be the most popular person on your campus, but what does it matter when Psalm 45:11 says that the most powerful, wonderful Being to ever live “desires your beauty.” He desires your beauty. Doesn’t that make you the happiest girl alive?

Last thing. You asked what you should do to find freedom from the insecurities that are holding you captive. In other words, here's how to survive sixth grade:

Hope in God. (1 Peter 3:5) CRY out to Him. Spend all of your free time on your face if that’s what it takes. Find out who He is. What He’s like. What He’s up to. Praise Him when He reveals something awesome. Write out your worries and fears and thoughts and hopes and dreams in prayers and tell the God of the universe that you don’t know what to do with them. Trust that He does. And know that He hears you. It’s cool to have your prayers written down in a notebook, so that you can see the incredible work He’s doing in you. Guess what….In a few years, you will look back and be overwhelmed by how your God set you free from these insecurities that seem bigger than life right now. He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it. Believe it, girlfriend. And trust me. You’ll be surprised the joy that comes when you’re not focused on yourself, but rather, the One who put the stars in their place and still considers your feelings.

Memorize verses to meditate on when you’re doubting who you are and worried about what others think. As soon as those thoughts start to creep in, speak the truth to yourself and know that you are adored by The Truth.

Study the Bible. Pursue wisdom. I realize you’re now picturing yourself with gray hair, but just stop. “The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” (James 3:17)

There’s so much more I want to share with you, but this is a lot already. I love you, Juliet. More importantly, the Savior of the world is crazy about you. Never forget that.

the most extraordinary things seem to have come over the household.

2011-01-28T18:20:00.008-06:00

“Don’t you babysit every afternoon? What are your kids like?”

That’s one of my favorite questions. My time is split between two families: one with little boys and one with older girls. Are there ANY words in the English language that overlap to describe both groups?

The first house. The bus arrives and drops off C2, a 4th grader who takes his time getting to the door because every leaf which lines the path must be annihilated. He walks past me without a word, wanders to the pantry, flips on his X-Box. I ask if he has homework and get a grunt. I turn around to close the front door, turn around again, and he has disappeared. I call out his name and ask about his day, and all of a sudden, sixty pounds of spunk fly at my waist and shove me into the couch.

The second house. My keys twist around my palm as my fingers feel for the correct size and shape that fits this door. Right as the key slides into the hole, the door flies open and a happy 6th grade girl greets me with a smile and several hundred stories. Before I’ve turned around to close the front door, I know what happened during her day, what happened during her yesterday, what happened during her yesterday’s yesterday, what she plans for tomorrow, what makes her happy, what makes her sad, what she has to do for homework, what the guy on her bus two rows back and one over said about her neighbor’s best friend’s friend, and how upsetting it was when her teacher talked to her new best friend’s old best friend and asked if her new best friend’s feeling better. (She’s not.)

She tells me about her classes and her teachers and her friends and her friends’ parents and her sister and her parents and her parents’ parents. She analyzes the complexity of each relationship with the insight of someone much older than her twelve years, and I sit on her kitchen counter and wonder if she’s been reading parenting books again. She talks about the arguments she’s recently had with her sister and her parents and worries about the quiet kid who’s ignored by the (air quotes) popular crowd. She says she wants to be nice to everyone, but sometimes she just gets annoyed by the girl who is always trying to steal her position as first chair bassoon player.

She takes a breath.

She wonders what Jesus was like as a teenager. Jesus, who was the earthly son of two parents that definitely did not understand Him. Jesus, who was fully God but also a human pre-teen at some point. Jesus, who must have been tempted to throw the fact that His parents were imperfect in their faces. Jesus, who must have been tempted to question His parents' judgment and rebel against their authority. Jesus, who must have been tempted to roll His eyes and ignore their requests. Jesus, who must have been tempted to complain about His parents to His friends and dishonor them by mocking them behind their backs. Jesus, who must have been tempted to return to heaven and escape the discomfort of a cramped home owned by people who were not well-off. Jesus, who must have been tempted to be annoyed, cold, lazy, discontent, grumpy, jealous, proud, insecure, unsympathetic, and on and on and on and on. Jesus, who must have been tempted to fight with brothers and sisters that did not believe in Him. (Can you imagine what THAT would be like? Literally eating breakfast with the Son of God?)

But He didn’t sin. Not once. His family did. But He did not.

He lived in submission to His parents and His teachers and every other human authority over Him. “It would have been easy for Him to just walk away from it all.

“But He didn’t.

“While Christ was on earth, at any time He could have returned to heaven and resumed the throne and His rule as part of the Godhead. He never ceased being God. He only laid aside His powers. It was a choice He made to submit Himself to the Father and live in total obedience. In John’s Gospel, He says, ‘I lay down My life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again’ (John 10:17-18).

“Jesus could have said, ‘I’m stopping this whole thing and going back to heaven. I can’t continue to live under these people and their decisions.’” (K.P. Yohannan)

But He didn’t.

And a really cool part (for us imperfect people who struggle with submission), Jesus “humbled himself by [becoming] obedient to the point of death.” (Philippians 2:8) Jesus didn't die on the cross until He was 33. Year by year, day by day, hour by hour He humbled Himself in obedience to God, His Father. In every choice and thought and action, He surrendered His will to His Father's, until He was finally obedient to the point of death at age 33.

It's not supposed to be a snap-deal. What. A. Relief. In Jesus' life, He matured over time. As our own relationships with God progress, we become more obedient; we surrender our desires and emotions and longings to Him. One moment at a time. We trade what we want for what God wants and are thus obedient to HIS will. We start to exchange our fame for His: it's why we were made. Our lives proclaim the glory of God and the glory of the cross of Christ.

Jesus, the more I think about Your life, the more blown away I am by who You are. You hold the entire universe together, and You personally understand everything we go through. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 14:15) As we go through the normal routines of life and chatter away about what we consider important, please put Yourself at the forefront of our minds and hearts and conversations. Let us not forget what Your life means for us. Lead us, Lord. Let our lives also be marked by utter obedience to God. Lord, we need You. Not only are You the perfect example of how to live, but You are our Savior who we can’t live without. Thank You for your guidance, Your mercy, Your patience…. And thank You for your grace; it truly is all-sufficient. We love you, Jesus. We are not unaware of your greatness.

Jesus, “...though [You] were in the form of God, [You] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made [Yourself] nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, [You] humbled [Yourself] by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted [You] and bestowed on [You] the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:5-11)

merry christmas!

2010-12-24T13:16:00.009-06:00

"Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of his inheritance? He does not retain His anger forever, because He delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; He will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea." (Micah 7:18-19)

"And He shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the LORD, in the majesty of the name of the LORD His God. And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth.

And He shall be their peace."

(Micah 5:4-5)

sweetness in the sour - lyme disease diagnosis

2010-12-05T09:59:00.017-06:00

For those of you who have been praying for my health for so long (thank you!), here's an update. We're coming up on four years since my cluster headaches began and are somewhere in the middle of my eighth year with acute migraines, but I have never been so aware of the faithfulness of God and His power to sustain and keep a girl together. Yesterday, I tested positive for Lyme Disease; a disease which, YES (!! happy dance !!), can be treated. The doctor who has stuck with us for the last 19 years believes this is the answer to most of my pain.

Over the years, we've seen doctors all over the country and and have thought a lot of different diagnoses and treatments were "the answer." Of course, this one may fall through as well, but it feels so good to hope, you know?

Last night, after my mom started talking with friends who have fought their own cases of Lyme, we discovered that just one month of antibiotics would probably not get rid of my headaches. Once symptoms become neurological, and if you've had the disease for a long time, it may take two years before they go away. Those 'two years' began to feel like an eternity as another cycle of cluster headache episodes kicked in around 4:30 yesterday afternoon. The idea of knowing I'd keep experiencing that kind of pain was so overwhelming, I started crying when a waiter asked how I was doing. I'm fine.

This morning, I woke up to the words of Psalm 125: "Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever." Who do I trust? What do I long for? Where is my hope? In doctors, in the dream of a pain-free life, in myself? As long as my trust is all over the place rather than in God alone, I'll not only move, but experience has shown that I'll completely fall apart.

"I don't know when this season of pain will be over. Maybe, in God's grace and wisdom, He'll say, 'Enough!' and banish the pain within the hour. Or maybe He'll say, 'Enough!' allowing me to step out of this long-disabled, deteriorating temporary housing into my 'building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands' (2 Cor. 5:1).

"In the meantime, these afflictions of mine - this very season of multiplied pain - is the background against which God has commanded me to show forth His praise. It's also that thing that I am to reckon as 'good and acceptable and perfect,' according to Romans 12. God bids me that I not only seek to accept it, but to embrace it, knowing full well that somewhere way down deep - in a secret place I have yet to see - lies my highest good.

"Yes, I pray that my pain might be removed, that it might cease; but more so, I pray for the strength to bear it, the grace to benefit from it, and the devotion to offer it up to God as a sacrifice of praise. My strength in prayer these days is scant - I'll confess that. So for all the concentration I can muster in prayer, I must not dissipate it in seeking physical blessings only. Rather, I must spend a good portion of it seeking spiritual growth and praying for Christ's kingdom to go forth into this dark world. For such prayers are a way for me to know God and to know Him deeper, higher, richer, wider, and fuller - much fuller than if I comfortably cruised through life in my wheelchair.

"To this point, as I pen this chapter, He has not chosen not to heal me, but to hold me.

"The more intense the pain, the closer His embrace."

(Joni Eareckson Tada, A Place of Healing)

"Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion,

which cannot be moved, but abides forever.

As the mountains surround Jerusalem,

so the LORD surrounds His people,

from this time forth and forevermore." (Psalm 125)

and a lovely thing she is, too.

2010-12-01T13:23:00.022-06:00

On the first day of December, a fourth grader said to me . . .

"I can't find my scorpion."

---

But let's rewind. The story begins with an abandoned tub of butter. (It always does, you know.)

Late one afternoon, a worn out bus driver weaved through the last neighborhoods of her daily route and yanked the brakes in front of a house with white pillars and bright Christmas-colored ornaments hanging above the door. To the right of the driver’s window, one smushed nose stared out at the sweet elderly man scooting down the street. As the nose backed away from the window and the sun shined through the glass to display the resulting print, the nine year old (C2) I babysit, passed in front of the bus and hopped onto the sidewalk. As he bypassed the nest of leaves stacked on the stone walkway, it became obvious he was up to something.

“Did he bring it?” Hey, C2.

“Hey. Did he bring it?” Did who bring what?

An answer worked its way to the front of his mouth but appeared to get stuck at the end of his tongue, as C2 picked up a tub of Country Crock butter and peeked inside. “Guess what kind of pet’s in here?” Oh no.

He walked into the house keeping the container steady and placed it on the coffee table. With the alarming tap of plastic-containing-critter against wood, the race to build a habitat was on. “Katie. Go to the computer and find out what kind of food it eats.”

As I walked from one side of the house to the other, C2 took off running. He sprinted up the stairs and slammed a few cabinet doors then latched onto the banister and slid down and spun in circles around one very dizzy kitten and flung open the back door and jogged back and forth, back and forth looking for sand – “NO SAND?!” – and waved as he ran back inside and back upstairs and then finally sat down and looked at me. “So, what does it eat?” I read to him from the website, and he nodded. “That’s not a problem.”

He went back to his pet – What’s its name? “Corpus.” – and I dug through drawers for the cotton ball that C2 planned to use to hydrate Corpus.

I soaked both ends of a Q-tip with filtered water and listened for the shuffling of my mini-arachnologist. “I would watch where you step. I can’t find Corpus.” Ohhhh no.

I looked down at the carpet and saw it: the sand-colored scorpion crawling into the kitchen.

C2’s gaze started at my elbow and slid down my forearm to my finger to the floor.

“Oh, fudge.”

He crouched down, but that critter had tasted freedom, and heck, he was going to get it. As the two of them square-danced on top of the tile, I snapped pictures. The flash of the camera startled them both: “You’re not going to show my mom, right?” Seconds later, Corpus landed in his container.

As we sat on the couch and stared somewhat incredulous at how well the scorpion blended in with his surroundings, C2 explained that he found the escapee while he was hunting during Thanksgiving.

Oh, Thanksgiving, you have left so many reasons for gratitude: the discovery of “the coolest thing ever,” the joy which comes when a potentially poisonous arachnid is no longer loose in the house, the duct tape that keeps a lid down, and the awe of a nine year old boy completely amazed by the handiwork of our Creator-God, whose birth we’re celebrating this month.

---

Okay. So it's not as pleasant as a partridge in a pear tree. But it's a scorpion from under a log. That has to count for something.

proverbs 19:21

2010-10-22T12:20:00.000-05:00

Many are the plans in the mind of a man,

but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand.

abo[lit]ion.

2010-10-17T13:37:00.019-05:00

If you stick the words "human trafficking" into a Google news search, you might just kill your feed reader and fry your brain sorting through the hundreds of articles. To save you an afternoon, some crucial pieces from the week (October 9 through October 16) are listed below. Be forewarned: once you're aware of what's happening around you, you'll want to do something about it.

Bill Hillar is a retired U.S. Army Special Forces colonel and the inspiration for Taken, a film about a man’s efforts to rescue his daughter following her abduction. Unlike the movie, Hillar’s daughter didn’t survive. According to Hillar's keynote speech,

· Two ways to fight the [the modern-day sex and labor slave trade] are through education and informing legislators of the need to change laws to prosecute pimps and employers, rather than the victims.

· The crime is so lucrative that drug cartels are switching to selling women.

· Someone can buy or sell a quantity of drugs or a weapon only once. They can buy a female over and over again.

· The average age of sex slaves is 12, although in some foreign countries even infants are for sale.

· During the world cup in Berlin, politicians rescinded a prostitution law and imported nearly 30,000 prostitutes.

· This said, victims often are prosecuted when they have run-ins with the law…. It’s a problem because they aren’t prostitutes – they’re victims. Prostitution indicates choice.

· Where do the 80,000 pedophiles come from? They come from this country, the United States.

"They sell illusions, they sell dreams. It's no surprise that people fall for all kinds of attractive offers from abroad pyramid schemes, lotteries, Nigerian letters [...] It's all good salesmanship." (Eda Mölder) What happens after a person falls prey to these lies?

· They may be trapped into marrying an immigrant whose intention is to get visa entry into the EU. Dozens of Estonian women have been lured abroad in recent years.
· Others may be abandoned after a month or so. According to an Egyptian activist, about 900 children born to Egyptian women and Saudi men are left following "misfar" marriages. The article defines this type of union as one "contracted so that a woman may join her 'husband' for the period of time he travels in a foreign country.'" 90% of fathers leave the children born out of such relationships.
· Some victims are forced to work at restaurants - including a Chinese buffet in Patchogue - at below minimum wage and live in squalid conditions controlled by their smuggler.

· Victims may have their kidneys removed and sold to foreigners for up to $200,000.

Many types of exploitation exist, and many types of people are used to fill demand.

· Children are the most vulnerable. For example, children in Kenya have been subject to sexual exploitation and domestic work and are often lured by the promise of school. In Tanzania, children have been trafficked for street begging. (This week, British police found 103 Romanian children - including a 3 year old - who had been instructed to steal on London roads.) Children have also been employed in hard labor on farms. Child prostitution also occurs: Seattle is currently listed as first in the U.S. In Manitoba, child victims of sex trafficking are held captive in "micro-brothels" controlled by gangs. (For more information on the sex trafficking of children, check out this article by Rev. Shay Cullen published on Friday.)

· Young women are generally targeted for prostitution. The Daily Evergreen writes of a need for reform in this area:
- A "disgusting aspect of all of this is how desensitized prostitution is in today's society. Humantrafficking.org states that the word pimp in today's culture refers to someone who is cool, rich, and successful with women. The reality is that a pimp is a slave owner who takes advantage of the vulnerable. It is a grotesque term.... As a culture, we must change this perception if anything is to be done about how these women are treated."

- "These girls are usually taken from foster homes or from households where they were already abused. Then a grooming process is started where the pimps seduce the trapped young girls to fall in love with them. For girls from broken homes or those who never had one, it is easy to forgive a few bad traits just to have someone care."

- "Then the abuse begins. It starts with emotional trauma, being told that they are worthless. It escalates to physical violence where they can be beaten within an inch of their life. The point is to bring a message across, that they are property and if they try to run away their owners will find them and hurt them."

In case you were wondering...

· Benjamin Perrin said: "Craigslist has been called the Wal-Mart of child sex trafficking." (Canada)

· Blood Money: In the UK, "editors and publishers are likely to find themselves in front of a judge if they refuse to stop running sex ads which are later found to be linked to human trafficking."
· Human Trafficking Blacklist: Malaysia was added after seven immigration officers and two officers were detained. This is not a new problem. The 2009 U.S. State Department Trafficking in Human Persons Report records that "Malaysian immigration officers sold [Burmese refugees] for about $200 per person to human trafficking syndicates operating along Thailand's southern border." The traffickers demanded ransom which victims were unable to pay; the victims "were sold for the purpose of labor and commercial sexual exploitation." On Thursday, Home Minister Datuk Seri Hishammuddin Hussein announced: "I wish to remind all officers and staff who are entrusted with safeguarding all entry points of the country to carry out their duties and responsibilities with integrity. Do not betray the country to pursue material wealth."
· Islamabad: Most Wanted Criminals Backed by Politicians: "Human trafficking has been a lucrative business worldwide, but its gravity dawned upon Pakistan as Federal Investigation Agency (FIA) intercepted over 40,000 persons at the Pakistan-Iran/Afghanistan borders since 2005." Director General FIA, Wasim Ahmad said that action is being taken against the immigration officials allegedly involved in cooperating with human traffickers.
· The Simpsons: A video featuring a redirected opening sement caused quite a stir: "Asian laborers toil in unsanitary, dangerous working conditions, under ground, behind barbed wire, drawing the animation cells of the cartoon, stuffing Bart Simpson dolls and putting together DVDs. [Street artist] Banksy, no doubt, was making a dig at the fact that The Simpsons’ animation is partially subcontracted to studios in South Korea—a cost cutting measure for 20th Century Fox."
· The Path Forward: Luis CdeBaca, Ambassador-at-Large, Office To Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons, gives a speech at the University of Luxembourg on the Global Fight Against Human Trafficking.

Check out the abolitionist featured this week in the New York Times: Suzanne Daley showcased Romania's leading advocate for the victims of trafficking. Iana Matei, a psychologist by training, has been "pulling young women out of the hands of traffickers" for more than 10 years.

· In 1998, she answered a police call to deal with three young prostitutes. She said, "I was annoyed until I got there and saw these girls. The mascara was running all over their faces. They had been crying so hard. Journalists had been there and made them pose. And they were minors. They were 14, 15, and 16. But no one cared."

· Matei "does little to disguise her disgust with legal systems around the world that fail to take trafficking seriously enough. 'When these guys get caught, they get what? Six years? Maybe. They destroy 300 lives and they get six years. You traffic drugs, you get 20 years. There is something not right.'" (Read more of Iana Matei's story on the New York Times' website.)

On October 12, FM Droutsas gave a speech at the Foreign Ministry conference on "EU Policy and the National Action Plan for combating Human Trafficking." He ends by saying,

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could single out one basic message from today’s conference, it would be this:
"We cannot and must not relax our vigilance. What we say and do will never be sufficient as long as the exploitation of human beings by human beings continues. We cannot have a clear conscience and we cannot be proud of the achievements of our culture as long as this phenomenon continues to exist.
"Our country's goal is to be among the leading players in the international campaign for confronting modern forms of slavery. Our goal is not simply to meet our commitments....
"Our goal is to be a frontrunner and - why not? - a model."

In the midst of all of this, let it be true that our "eyes are ever on the LORD, for only He will release [our] feet from the snare." (Psalm 14:15) "The Maker of heaven and earth, ... who remains faithful forever .... HE upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free, the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, ... The LORD watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but He frustrates the ways of the wicked. The LORD reigns forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations." (Psalm 146)

chim chim cher-oo

2010-10-14T15:34:00.023-05:00

During the months before school opened its doors and released its children to sunshine and sunscreen, the search for cool amusement gave way to the hopeless nurturing of spring fever cases. The virus began spreading like Silly Bandz throughout local elementary school, and all hopes for its containment vanished as the Houston-heat grew Houston-hotter. Thoroughly ignorant of the contagious nature of the disease, little boys stuck their heads out of backseat car windows and opened their mouths, contaminating carpool lines as they belted out Lady Gaga’s “Ale(-Ale-Ale-)jandro.” The fever passed through families, and children sought shelter in their neighbor’s homes, irrationally afraid of visiting grandparents.

This kind of irrational behavior became a common symptom among the infected. Upon exposure to the disease, one nine year old admitted a severe craving for fish oil supplements. After placing a capsule under his tongue, he immediately expressed a need to retrieve an item left right outside of his home. However, the record shows that the child walked beyond his backyard gate, across his driveway, and under a tree before attempting to swallow. He then fell, knees to the earth, and began to dig a small hole. At this time, the vitamin was projected from the child’s mouth into the hole, covered with dirt, and marked with a dying daffodil. The child returned to the house empty-handed, refused to comment on the incident, and never acknowledged the four large kitchen windows which bore witness to the entire event.

On a similar evening, a game began in the traditional way: laughter could be heard throughout a cul-de-sac as eight children ran to hide. However, no one is certain what happened between the counts of one and one hundred; a rash onset of the fever is suspected. The filed episode reported that when the seeker, Kid 1, opened his eyes and cried out, “Ready or not…,” he also found Kid 2 standing in front of him, hands over his eyes. Kids 3, 4, and 5 were lying flat, squished together like sardines, in the bed of a truck parked in front of a nearby house. As Kid 1 looked for the rest of his hidden friends, Kid 6 left his spot behind a tree to chase a squirrel. He picked up a soccer ball and threw it in the squirrel’s path. The ball smacked the hood of the truck and set off an alarm which was later reported several streets over. Kids 3, 4, and 5 sat up in confusion. Kid 7 was startled by the noise and stood up from behind the trashcan where he was hiding on the other side of the street. His sudden movements knocked the trashcan over and sent it rolling down the driveway. When it reached the bottom of the driveway, Kid 8 (litter-ally) rolled out of the trashcan.

Neighborhoods who experienced the epidemic also reported unnatural amounts of string cheese consumption, several occasions where backyard swing sets were turned into water parks, and a couple of disillusioned victims changing the words of “La Cucaracha” to “Ra Mochalaba.”

Vaccinations have not been created, but studies have found that several months of vacation between the months of May and August aid even the most severe cases. The start of school in August has been shown to encourage the reappearing of minor symptoms, but all traces of these particular instances have disappeared at the arrival of football season, pumpkin spice lattes, winds in the east, and mist coming in.

"Can't put me finger on what lies in store, but I fear what's to happen all happened before."

make me Thy fuel

2010-08-01T16:00:00.004-05:00

"From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God."

- Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes

the ideal woman

2010-07-20T21:12:00.005-05:00

"Here we have a picture of God's ideal woman... Faith in God that sees beyond present bitter setbacks. Freedom from the securities and comforts of the world. Courage to venture into the unknown and the strange. Radical commitment in the relationships appointed by God.... This is the woman of Proverbs 31:25 who looks into the future with confidence in God and laughs at the coming troubles: 'Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.' Ruth is one of 'the holy women who hoped in God... [and did] not fear anything that is frightening' (1 Peter 3:5-6). It is a beautiful thing to watch a woman like this serve Christ with courage…. Whatever else the great women of faith doubted, they never doubted that God governed every part of their lives and that nothing could stay his hand... Nothing - from toothpicks to tyrants - is ultimately self-determining. Everything serves (willingly or not) the 'purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will' (Eph. 1:11). God is the all-encompassing, all-pervading, all-governing reality."

-John Piper, A Sweet and Bitter Providence

(originally posted on the Girl Talk blog)

our first game is called 'well begun is half done'

2010-06-05T09:47:00.022-05:00

Yes, it’s true, and I'm sorry: this blog has been without babysitting-esque stories lately.

Yesterday around noon, the phone rang at the exact moment a few blonde hairs appeared below the kitchen window. I ran the phone outside as C2 hopped from one rock to the next along the edge of the flower bed and then plopped down in the mud. He tucked the phone under his ear and began to dig.

“Hello, sir? … No, sir. … What am I doing? … Oh, I’m planting a sunflower, sir.”

C2 passed the phone back to me and continued to poke at the dirt and make room for the plant he uprooted (ahem) from the creek in his neighborhood. He stuck the long roots into the bottom of the mini-pit and shoved gravel around its perimeter to help it stand. The length of the flower made its head unusually top-heavy, but the core remained firm. C2 stood up and shook his head, dirt flying everywhere, and marched back into the air conditioning.

An hour later, we walked back outside, and he paused to check on his prized plant. The top fourth of the sunflower drooped toward the earth. As my little gardener crawled to examine it, I asked him what he thought the problem was. He lunged for the hose to rehydrate the flower and then stopped and looked up at me.

“I don't know. Maybe it’s in shock.”

He nodded then knelt back down to tend to his project.

So, why has my blog lacked Nanny Diaries' posts? I don't know. Maybe it’s in shock.

peter pan nightmare

2010-06-02T09:05:00.021-05:00

Mick LaSalle, film writer for the Houston Chronicle, wrote an article about the perception of age as portrayed by actors in movies of today compared with those of yesteryear. If you read a hard copy of the paper, you might have skipped past this easy-to-miss piece on the back page of the entertainment section. LaSalle begins with commentary on modern movie releases and ends with a hard critique of our culture.

(Is his analysis correct? Read the article in its entirety.)

LaSalle begins by saying, "We're seeing this more and more in movies, not actors playing younger than they are but rather actors playing their age — middle age — as a time for beginnings. Look at the Sex and the City women, who are in their 40s and 50s playing women in their 40s and 50s, yet their whole atmosphere is young, and their whole story is one of constant renewal. There's no sense of settling down or turning from the world." He goes on to explain why for certain reasons this is due to perception: Baby Boomers and Generation Xers set the cultural agenda; and then he shows that for other reasons, this goes beyond perception: modern stars tend to take better care of themselves.

LaSalle then moves on to his final, and most important reason:

"There's a refusal to get old — to some degree it's a refusal to become mature — that's just part of our culture. . . . Adulthood just isn't what it used to be."

"In fact, when I see movies like Sherlock Holmes or The Losers, I wonder if we're not lost in some Peter Pan nightmare, in which adult characters can behave like children and yet no one seems to notice.

"Let's be fair to the past. Gardner may have been practically an old woman at 41. But in The Killers, at 23, she was more of an adult than most of our current actresses will ever be. Gable may have been an old fat guy at 47, but at 31, in Red Dust (1932), he was a man. Not a young man. A man. He was a year younger than Ashton Kutcher is today.

"Kirsten Dunst is 28 — the same age as Greta Garbo in Queen Christina (1933) — and yet she's still an ingenue. At 32, Hilary Swank tried to act the femme fatale in The Black Dahlia (2006) but seemed like a girl playing dress-up. Meanwhile, Jane Greer — perhaps the sexiest, slinkiest and scariest film noir heroine of them all — was only 22 when she filmed Out of the Past (1947). And Jean Harlow was only 26 when she died. She was a woman from her first appearance onscreen.

"Perhaps it takes a Depression or a World War II to put miles on people's spirits and make them seem older. By comparison, later boomers and Generation Xers have lived their lives in unchallenging times. I'm not complaining — that's a good thing — who needs calamity? Who needs to feel or act old a minute before it's necessary?

"Yet I wonder: Maybe we're seeing in our buoyant, middle-aged stars a representation of our own consciousness — the unclouded consciousness of a people who have evaded life's deepest and most meaningful lessons.

"That would even be worse than aging, to go through life and miss the point."

2010-05-22T09:04:00.004-05:00

"You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;

You encourage them, and You listen to their cry,

defending the fatherless and the oppressed,

in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more."

-- Psalm 10:17-18.

the "s" word.

2010-05-03T10:25:00.025-05:00

(Top 10 Facts About The "S" Word from Free the Slaves )

Certain words have haunted me for weeks now, words that came from a magazine article I read over a month ago. To be honest, I don’t subscribe to the magazine, and when I went back this morning to grab the link, the article had been removed for those who aren’t paying readers. But I’m not here to promote the original work; if you can get past both my voice and the authors and let the content speak, you will be better off.

“Imagine you live in a country riven by war or poverty or both. There is no work. There is not enough food to feed your family or money for medicine when someone gets sick or injured. Education is nothing but a pipe dream. If you are a woman, your value is even more tenuous; you have probably been beaten or abused in some other way by a father, a husband, or an employer. You’re smart enough to understand that this life promises to be the only one you will get. It will last for another thirty or forty years, with no improvement. And that will be it.

“Then one day someone says he can help you escape to the United States, where you can be free and make plenty of money for yourself while supporting your family back home. Well and good, but who has the money to get there? No problem – you can escape on the installment plan. All you (or your parents, if they are sealing the deal) have to do is sign a contract that promises to pay back the money you have borrowed by working for the agent’s connections in the U.S. at a restaurant or a factory. The going rate is about $30,000, which sounds like a lot of money, but in America everyone gets rich. And so you sign, ignoring a clause that says your family will be held responsible for your debt if you cannot pay it.

“You get on a gigantic airplane – most likely you’ve never flown before – and land in a brand-new country where you cannot read the signs. If you have any identification documents at all, they are phony ones that you paid a fortune for back home, most likely adding to the debt you are already trying not to worry about. Someone picks you up and drives you away, and leaving the airport, you catch a glimpse of your future: teeming freeways, skyscrapers so tall they block out the sun, shopping malls that would dwarf your entire village. Your new ‘boss’ buys you lunch, and you cannot believe the size of the portions put in front of you. All around you are people who want for nothing.

“While you are in this state – dizzy, disoriented – your boss takes you to a place that isn’t a restaurant or a factory and tells you to unpack your few belongings in a dingy back room. He tells you that this is where you will work to pay off your debt. You will be a prostitute, he explains, and by the way, you will be charged for room and board while you are paying off that $30,000. When you protest, he beats you, starves you, or keeps you awake for days on end. Then, just to make himself clear, he holds up a picture of your son or your parents or your sister and tears it in half. Or maybe he just says, ‘We hear your father has a bad heart.'

“At that point, your predicament becomes very clear. You do not speak or read the language. You do not have a cent to your name. You have no idea where you are in this vast country, and you have no way of finding out because no one lets you go anywhere alone. What do you do? Most likely, you do what you are told.” (Mimi Swartz, "The Lost Girls", Texas Monthly)

It's Monday; I would imagine it's an ordinary one. You wake up wrapped in clean sheets in an air-conditioned bedroom within a perfectly cooled house. You turn off an alarm clock, click on overhead lights, and hop into a hot shower (where, I imagine, you hang out a little bit longer because it IS another Monday). You most likely saunter down a carpeted hallway and eat breakfast with the talking heads from CNN; maybe you're listening, maybe not. It’s not like the world issues they analyze will actually affect you this morning. (Possibly they will, but probably not.) I imagine you jump in your car and speed through the drive thru at Starbucks (settling for the smallest size drink because we are in a recession, you know), fully conscious of the inconvenience that parking and walking-in creates (not to mention the horrific traffic experience that occurs on the freeway with a 10-minutes-late-departure). You probably make an appearance at class or work (in the cute new shoes you bought over the weekend) and mention how the days off passed by so quickly. At this point, you probably remember that you are working your way to a better life, so you close Solitaire on the computer and work a little harder. I imagine you end your day and head to the gym (possibly, but probably not) and drive home and cook dinner and call a friend and check Facebook (from your iPhone while you cook dinner and talk to a friend) and study a little longer and curl up in your cozy bed and wake up to face Tuesday morning.

This (for the most part) isn’t meant to be a guilt trip. (Geez, I just made myself feel guilty, and I know already that this post really does have a greater purpose!) I follow most of the above routine myself. I'm not even sure if I am capable of forming a coherent sentence without the smell of coffee (preferably Dunkin Donuts – yes, please) wafting into our study. Not to mention that my biggest complaint today has been a fever-driven headache: with a few steps and a few Tylenol, that pain will disappear. I’ve been able to sit at a desk surrounded by textbooks and type out essay after essay to the soundtrack of family members who want me to succeed. But back to that headache, if it was to get worse, I could always make a quick trip to see a doctor or visit a local emergency room with little effort. And then everything would be fine again, or so I’d imagine.

The American dream…

And we’re at ease. We’re safe. We’re free.

Right?

"All around you are people who want for nothing."

The article estimates that between 14,500 and 17,500 people are trafficked into the country each year. 25 percent of all trafficking victims in the U.S. end up in Texas. Many sources claim Houston, my hometown, as the leading trafficking site in the U.S. because of its international airports and its central location with highways between Los Angeles and Miami and between the U.S. and Latin America.

The land of the free…

And my neighbors are suffering. They’re held captive. They’re put up for sale.

At what point are we going to look past our pretty, “perfect” lives and take note of what is actually going on… 10 miles from our houses? 5 miles? 2 miles? I’m not against the suburban lifestyle; I’ve been out here all my life. But the apathy scares me. It’s insane to deny trafficking is happening or pretend there’s nothing we can do to stop it. If our brothers and sisters were the faces stamped with a price tag and sold online, would we sit still and hope for the best in their situations? Did you notice the average price in the video? $90. Can you believe it? We often spend more than that before noon. What if the kids we babysit, the ones whose lives are interwoven into ours, were kidnapped and traded for $90? Would we still do nothing?

“According to ECPAT (End Child Prositution, Child Pornography and Trafficking of Children for Sexual Purposes), as many as 100,000 U.S. Children are forcefully engaged in prostitution or pornography each year. Approximately 300,000 U.S. children are at-risk.” (love146.org)

If anything has been learned from slavery in the past, it is that change does not appear overnight. Step 1 simply involves becoming aware. You have to know the problem in order to solve it.

Step 1 complete.

Before acting, before anything, we need to humble ourselves before our sovereign ruler and trust His will for our lives. He still reigns, and He still is the One we serve. (Isaiah 61)

"Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed.

The LORD sets the prisoners free;

the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down" (from Psalm 146)

I’m hoping to slowly post what I learn as I work through stacks of research and wrap my mind around this problem. It’s an enormous issue. However, it can be solved. Did you catch what the video said? Twenty-five years.

Let freedom ring . . . .

episode 25 / episode 26 / episode 27

2010-05-03T08:51:00.003-05:00

A Poem for Caleb:

Senioritis:

The Future Decided:

reason #49.

2010-04-03T12:54:00.008-05:00

“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”
- C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

So, why did He suffer and die?

Reason #49 … so that He would be crowned with glory and honor:
(The following is from John Piper's The Passion of Jesus Christ )

“But we see...Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death.” (Hebrews 2:9)

“And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every other name.” (Philippians 2:7-9)

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Revelation 5:12)

“The night before he died, knowing what was coming, Jesus prayed, ‘Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed’ (John 17:5). And so it came to pass: He was ‘crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death’ (Hebrews 2:9). His glory was the reward of his suffering. He was ‘obedient to the point of death…. Therefore God has highly exalted him’ (Philippians 2:8-9). Precisely because he was slain, the Lamb is ‘worthy… to receive… honor and glory’ (Revelation 5:12). The passion of Jesus Christ did not merely precede the crown; it was the price, and the crown was the prize. He died to have it. “Many people stumble at this point. They say, ‘How can this be loving? How can Jesus be motivated to give us joy if he is motivated to get his glory? Since when is vanity a virtue?’ That is a good question, and it has a wonderful biblical answer.

“The answer lies in learning what great love really is. Most of us have grown up thinking that being loved means being made much of. Our whole world seems to be built on this assumption. If I love you, I make much of you. I help you feel good about yourself. It is as though a sight of the self is the secret of joy.

“But we know better. Even before we come to the Bible, we know this is not so. Our happiest moments have not been self-saturated moments, but self-forgetful moments. There have been times when we stood beside the Grand Canyon, or at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro, or viewed a stunning sunset over the Sahara, and for a fleeting moment felt the joy of sheer wonder.

"This is what we were made for.

"Paradise will not be a hall of mirrors. It will be a display of majesty. And it won’t be ours.

“If this is true, and if Christ is the most majestic reality in the universe, then what must his love to us be? Surely not making much of us. That would not satisfy our souls. We were made for something much greater. If we are to be as happy as we can be, we must see and savor the most glorious person of all, Jesus Christ himself. This means that to love us, Jesus must seek the fullness of his glory and offer it to us for our enjoyment. That is why he prayed, the night before he died, ‘Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory’ (John 17:24). That was love.

"‘I will show them my glory.’ When Jesus died to regain the fullness of his glory, he died for our joy. Love is the labor – whatever the cost of helping people be enthralled with what will satisfy them most, namely, Jesus Christ. That is how Jesus loves.”

episode 22 / episode 23 / episode 24

2010-04-01T16:01:00.005-05:00

St. Patrick's Day:

A Look at Real Love with Richy Fisher:

A Big Announcement:

what did I tell ya? there's the whole world at your feet.

2010-03-11T13:31:00.015-06:00

It’s been over a month since the last Nanny Diaries post. I apologize. In all honesty, it seems like every time I sit down to write an interruption alwa –

“KAAAATIE, how much longer?”

29 minutes and 57 seconds.

“How long has it been?” 3 seconds. “Are you sure?” Would I lie to you? “No.”

– and I’ve been trying to keep a record of my adventures with my kids, so I could tell you some of our stories, our moments.

“Wait, how old are you again?” Eighteen. “I thought when people turn eighteen they do bad things and get arrested and go to jail.” What?! Where did you…. Hold up. C2, focus for me, okay?” “Okay. “So, how much longer now?” READ.

C2 squints at me and props his book up on the coffee table. The light from the ceiling fan hits the shiny surface of the page, and the outline of a highly uncommon, African snake bounces off the glass. I turn back around in my chair, close my eyes, count (5, 4, 3, 2). “Hey Katie?” Hey, C2?

“How much longer?”

28 minutes and 11 seconds.

“No way.” He hops up and stands underneath the microwave. “Oh yeah. You’re right.” Thank you. He wanders from the stovetop to the sink to the pantry. Hey mister, if you don’t sit down now, I’m adding time to the clock. He skips back to his exotic reptiles.

He sinks to his knees and presses his bare toes against the base of the couch. The cat waddles over and curls up on the pillow behind his head next to Pancho, C2’s favorite stuffed monkey. Behind the pillow rest two remote controls lying in perfect parallel lines, one product of the slightly OCD, after-school routine he’s established for himself.

Over the last seven months, our time together has molded into a slightly predictable pattern: the bus drops off my kiddo clad in his Peyton Manning jersey at the same time everyday; he takes his shoes off and tosses a sock at my head; I interrogate him about school and miss-what’s-her-name from the back of the bus; he tosses the other sock at my head; and he wanders into the kitchen, back into the living room: “I like to watch TV in peace after a hard day of work.” Okay, you’re EIGHT.

A few weeks ago, my kid wandered straight into the house: no frogs in hand, no stopping to attack zombies. He wandered in and smiled at me. (Uh oh.) The first sock landed on my shoulder but without the chatter which normally accompanies it. I began questioning C2 about life (think soft-core Jack Bauer), but he shook his head and didn’t respond. What? He began an elaborate combination of sign language and charades until I understood: he lost his voice. I followed him into the kitchen to check for fever and to find out if his throat hurt as well; he reached for a pad of paper and jotted down: “no, voice only.” He kicked off his (extra-quiet) half-hour-in-peace in the usual way: the wooden doors separating the kitchen and the living room closed, and my little mime bounced out of sight. As I pulled out homework, I listened to Candace yelling for her mom, and I heard my child as he jumped on the futon. (That’s right, C2, I know what you do in there.) As Phineas and Ferb said goodbye to the Lake Nose Monster, the wheels of C1’s bus wheeled to a stop. Like clockwork, the front door slammed shut, his backpack hit the floor, and the tennis-shoe-shuffle grew closer and closer to the shut wooden doors. (5, 4, 3, 2) “Wow, C2, why are you watching that?” C1 dived for the remote, and from behind closed doors, I mouthed “STOP, C1” at the exact moment as my voiceless C2 in the next room. Wait a minute. My textbook hit the kitchen bar, and the wooden doors flew back open. Child, I thought you lost your voice?! He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

Moment.

“KATIE!” Yes? “Katie… you’re not reading.” I know – I’m working on a story. C2, you’re not reading either. “Yes, I am!” If you’re talking, you’re not reading. “Nuh-uh, I AM reading.” If you want to keep talking, you can read aloud. He considers this. “How much longer?”

12 minutes. He turns the page.

At the end of the last month, in the bathroom down the hall from the spot where he’s reading, C2 and I sat on top of the counter, cross-legged, staring at the mirror, waiting for nearly 45 minutes. C2 had his finger in his mouth, squeezing a little white tooth that dangled from his gums. After telling stories about how he was going to get a string and tie it to the door, he lowered his hand from his mouth and showed me a tight fist. His fingers opened gently, slowly, and his big brown eyes flashed from confusion to horror to utter glee. He called his mom and, later, ran to the door when his dad walked in: chin tipped toward the sky, tongue in the new hole, smile stretched as wide as his cheeks could manage.

Moment.

C1, I can see you. His floppy-haired-head pops up from behind the kitchen counter. Go sit down. “I didn’t ask!” I know, kiddo. And guess what... you’re almost done. He walks past the TV’s black screen and kneels down one last time.

A week ago, he begged me to watch a fictional documentary he had seen the night before on Animal Planet. We curled up on the couch, and as the scenes became graphic, we started talking about aliens and space and heaven and Jesus. “I’m going to go into space and fly to the end of it to see what’s there. I want to fly to the very top.” You’ll fly and fly, but God created billions of galaxies out there. He spoke and the stars and the planets and the world all lined up and were stretched way out there. He’s THAT powerful, and He still knows and cares about you and me. Cool, huh? He looked up at me and out the window.

Moment.

“I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY LONGER!! I CANNOT TAKE IT. What does the clock say?”

3 minutes.

I don’t know. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in this place, within THIS moment. However, I want each story captured and recorded, so I can look back and say: Look where we’ve come from. Look what my God has done. Look at how He’s worked HERE and set THIS thing up; look at how He’s changing us. Look at who He is. SEE IT. KNOW IT. It’s real. HE’s real. That one time, when we thought it couldn’t get worse, He was there; He was comforting. And then when we were giggling so hard we couldn’t stand, He was there; He rejoiced in our joy. He spoke that joy into existence. It’s HIS. And when it hurt, when the pain was so bad, He was there; He understood. He was with us: our rock, our comforter, our healer, our refuge, our God. And we’ve seen what He’s done, and we don’t know what’s to come… but He’ll be there again. And again. And again. And we’ll give Him all of our moments.

“…. KATIE, what does it say?”

10 seconds.

Moment: when C1 tackled C2 and accidently tore off a scab from a previous injury. Moment: when C2 then commanded that I take a picture of the blood dripping down his leg to show his mom, so C1 would get in trouble. Moment: when Andy (the newly adopted, deaf, 3-legged kitten) stopped running for the dark corner under C2’s bed every time he approached and, instead, started falling asleep beside him. Moment: when C2 took the phone I handed him and screamed bloody murder for no apparent reason. . . . Moment: when C2 climbed the fence in his backyard and fell into the neighbor’s yard. Moment: when he started singing on the other side of the fence. Moment: when I wondered if it was really necessary to walk around and ring the neighbor’s doorbell to retrieve him. (Just kidding) Moment: when C1 completed his first science fair (and placed). Moment: when C2 wiggled his finger at me and whispered that, you know, he didn’t reeeally think it was important to show his dad the picture I took of him attacking C1. Moment: when we lost a neighbor kid in the house and found him 20 minutes later in a closet by himself. Moment: when C2 zoomed down the stairs with a tiny, wooden airplane in hand and then zoomed right out the door. Moment: when he looked over his shoulder to make sure I was behind him: “You should see what it does with a BIG gust of wind!” Moment: when he skipped ahead and turned around one more time to double check that I was watching before he let go. “Ready?”

Only through Your wonderful, beautiful, scandalous grace, Lord, will I find the strength to trust You with the moments past, with the moments I’m in, with the moments to come. Let my every moment contain all moments, let each one be wrapped around Your will for my life, let all bring You glory. Jesus, I’m so ready.

You are the One who holds my life and my kiddos. You are the One who sustains us. You are the One who created laughter, story, moments. You are.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

episode 19 / episode 20 / episode 21

2010-03-11T07:39:00.005-06:00

A Talk Show with Derek:

Personal Problems:

Caleb Needs Your Help:

episode 18: pirates

2010-02-21T16:55:00.004-06:00

(Check out Episode 17: Old Skewl on Caleb and John's fanpage.)

surrender, surrender

2010-02-17T08:23:00.005-06:00

"Father, I want to know Thee, but my cowardly heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding, and I do not try to hide from the the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that Thou mayest enter and dwell there without a rival. Then shalt Thou make the place of Thy feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for Thyself wilt be the light of it, and there shall be no night there. In Jesus' name. Amen."

- A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God

episode 16: muzik

2010-01-30T08:47:00.001-06:00

beauty's link to terrorism

2010-01-27T07:28:00.008-06:00

The following is from Carolyn McCulley's January 26 blog post:

"One of my favorite Bible passages is from Psalm 34. Verses 4 and 5 read: 'I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.'

"I have seen that kind of radiant beauty on those whose hearts are contented in God, who are eager to proclaim all of His blessings and mercies upon their lives. I firmly believe that is the most attractive beauty there is, because it edifies and builds up others. Yet, I also know the strong pull of the cosmetic and cosmeceutical industries and the promises they make to stall or turn back the ravages of time. So I write this post with a bit of ambivalence, because I know the money I spend at various salons.

"That said, I have never been Botoxed. My dermatologist did inform me a few years ago that it was time to start, because it would keep my fine lines from becoming deep wrinkles. I frowned (deepening those lines) and shook my head. There was no way I was going to stick a neurotoxin in my face, I announced. I was sure that in 20 years, we'd discover why that was a bad idea. She looked at me placidly and said, "I hope not because I have a face full of it." Maybe she was looking at me in wide-eyed horror, but I couldn't tell.

"Likely it won't take 20 years. We're now discovering a new problem associated with the Botox craze: an increased risk of terrorism. Yesterday the Washington Post ran an article about how officials fear that the toxic ingredient in Botox could become terrorist tool:

'In early 2006, a mysterious cosmetics trader named Rakhman began showing up at salons in St. Petersburg, Russia, hawking a popular anti-aging drug at suspiciously low prices. He flashed a briefcase filled with vials and promised he could deliver more -- "as many as you want," he told buyers -- from a supplier somewhere in Chechnya.'
'Rakhman's "Botox" was found to be a potent clone of the real thing, but investigators soon turned to a far bigger worry: the prospect of an illegal factory in Chechnya churning out raw botulinum toxin, the key ingredient in the beauty drug and one of world's deadliest poisons. A speck of toxin smaller than a grain of sand can kill a 150-pound adult.'
'No Chechen factory has been found, but a search for the maker of the highly lethal toxin in Rakhman's vials continues across a widening swath of Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Asia. U.S. officials and security experts say they know the lab exists, and probably dozens of other such labs, judging from the surging black market for the drug.'
'Al-Qaeda is known to have sought botulinum toxin. The Lebanese Hezbollah movement, which the United States has designated a terrorist organization, and other groups have bought and sold counterfeit drugs to raise cash. Now, with the emergence of a global black market for fake Botox, terrorism experts see an opportunity for a deadly convergence.'
'"It is the only profit-making venture for terrorists that can also potentially yield a weapon of mass destruction," said Kenneth Coleman, a physician and biodefense expert.'

"That last quote is important. I recognize that criminal elements can run scams on most anything to finances their ventures. In some ways, we can't take responsibility for what they choose to contort. But in an age of responsible consumerism, we also can't ignore what kind of markets our consumption creates. This article contains sobering news. I don't offer it to shame women who have had Botox treatments, nor to add one more temptation to those who are prone to fear. I am posting it because I had never heard about this potential link to terrorism. And I believe that having this kind of information helps us to consider our actions and motives from a broader perspective. It challenges us to rethink what is packaged as normal and acceptable.

"We live in an age that sells us a lie: that somehow or another we can get around the aging process. But we can't. Not in our own strength. Sickness, aging, and death are a consequence of our own sinfulness. They are inevitable consequences, but they are not irrevocable. Because there is One who paid the penalty for our sin and gave us His righteousness in exchange, this is not the end of the story. Jesus triumphed over death! His sinless life and substitutionary death on the cross for our sins has averted the Father's righteous wrath for all of our wrongs. Through this divine rescue, we can repent and receive Jesus' gracious gift of forgiveness, reconciliation with God, and life everlasting. And added to those amazing gifts is a new, glorified and ageless body."

episode 15: silent problems

2010-01-20T07:53:00.001-06:00

i told you she was tricky.

2010-01-15T18:24:00.007-06:00

Mr. Banks: "Will you be good enough to explain all this?"
Mary Poppins: "First of all, I would like to make one thing quite clear."
Mr. Banks: "Yes?"
Mary Poppins: "I never explain anything."

I received a text before nanny duties began today warning that Rainbow (the bearded dragon) had been spending all of her time sulking in the corner of her cage, so C2 and I grabbed the grumpy lizard after all of our secrets were shared and cuddled in front of cartoons until she snapped out of her semi-depressed state. As C2 uncurled her from the towel and set her back under her heat lamps, a commercial for the new movie The Spy Next Door burst on screen: a potential classic (… I said potential), where Jackie Chan’s character is “part spy, part babysitter, all hero.”

I chewed on my pen cap and wondered if Mr. Chan carried a carpet bag. C2 snapped the cage shut. I flipped a page in my textbook as the trailer ended. You know..., I’m a spy.

“Nuh-uh!”

Are you sure about that? He turned around and studied me.

“There’s no way.” He grabbed my pen and examined it. “But if you were a spy, this pen would blow up if I threw it.” He threw it. Gravity pulled it across the giant snake painted on the wall and down to the carpet. The sleeping cat lying beneath the mural opened a lazy eye, saw C2, and ran out the open bedroom door. “It didn’t blow up.” Naturally. You didn’t use it correctly. He squinted.

“Well, what about THIS?” My textbook hit the wall. (Sorry, Mom.) “It didn’t explode. You’re not a spy.” I smiled and jumped up to retrieve the nonvolatile study materials.

I reopened my book but, out of the corner of my eye, saw him place one bare foot on top of his giant basketball-shaped-chair. Oh no. “Oh YES!” He sprung off the chair with the most unnatural screech to ever come out of an eight year old boy’s throat and tackled me, pulling at my hair and screaming, “IS IT A MASK? IS IT A MASK?!”

He let go of my “real face” and toppled over my head. I sat up and grabbed my scalp to feel if any hair remained and heard him beside me, gasping for air, laughter filling the spaces between words,

“If you are actually a spy, why are you telling me?”

If I tell you, you don’t know whether I’m telling you because I’m not and want you to think that I am what I’m not, or if, in fact, I am and I’m telling you to make you question everything you know to be true.

“What?”

Indeed.

episode 14: a new season

2010-01-13T08:11:00.010-06:00

CALEB and JOHN kick off a new season of

What is Your Problem? today!

Click to become a FACEBOOK FAN, subscribe to their YOUTUBE PAGE, follow their TWITTER ACCOUNT, tell your friends, submit your problems, and stay beautiful!

(To Save a Life - Trailer)

well, hip, hip, hooray! and don't stumble on the way out, deary

2010-01-11T18:56:00.013-06:00

The sky was gray that day, trees sighing with the wind, an overcast and blustery afternoon (rather an unhappy Winds-day, Winnie the Pooh) as my car sped through the trees lining the roads. The clock on my dashboard rolled to 2:58, and I let my fingers slip the volume knob all the way to the right; louder music changes a red light to green, correct? 2 minutes. Three school buses sped past, and the knob was yanked the rest of the way to the right. The light changed colors, and my speed gauge hit 102mph. Just kidding. Mostly. The clock clicked to 2:59, and my phone began to vibrate in the cup holder setting off a few angry dimes: "Mom calling." One minute. “Are you there yet?” No! The neighborhood came into view, and I swung my car onto the final stretch. I spotted a tiny yellow speck in the distance: the race was on. I hit the accelerator as the yellow grew in front of my windshield. As soon as we were shoulder to shoulder, I veered onto the street and jammed on my brakes. One street over, I heard the roar of engines and the screaming of children. 30 seconds. I sprinted up the driveway and behind the gate, grabbed the key underneath the “Alien Attack Center” built the previous evening, and shoved my body through the back door. With one hand, I threw my textbooks on the counter, with the other, I grabbed the cat before he escaped into the cold; together we sprinted to every window to allow the gray of the afternoon to explode into every corner of the house. A whistle sounded, and I checked beneath the newly opened blinds. 10 seconds. I chunked the cat in a corner (Just kidding! Oh, bother.) and calmly opened the front door and waved to the competition, I mean, bus driver as my kid stumbled against the gust of wind and down the steps, backpack in hand.

(But C2 would have understood if I hadn’t made it back in time: I had a doctor’s appointment. He gets it. That one time when his dog pushed past him and out of the garage and down the street and beyond the neighborhood and all the way to Blockbuster he had to sit in the back, seat-belted in with my oxygen tank right next to him. He gets it better than most people. “Your headache-things hurt worse than having a baby, right?” That’s what they say. “Am I going to get them, too?” No, sir. “And I’m not going to have a baby either. Man, I am LUCKY!”)

I watched my kiddo, clad in shorts despite the freezing temperatures (because he “wasn’t cold”; he “wears jeans in the summer”), bounce down the last steps of the bus, mysterious blue container in hand. I closed the glass door and stepped closer to him. He passed in front of the bus and tripped, mysterious blue container flung at my feet. I stifled a scream as the bus engines revved up, my child on the concrete between the two front wheels. As the bus driver and I quickly made eye contact, C2 popped up and scurried into the house. The bus driver’s eyes followed him in, and as her eyes met mine, they spoke every exclamation of horror and relief that crossed our minds in that one moment. She threw up her hands to the sky (or rather, the gum-covered-ceiling) and then smiled and waved good-bye. Who would have guessed when my family moved that she would become one of my few friends on this side of town? I waved back and picked up the blue container C2 had forgotten and jogged inside to be with my kid.

“If the bus had started moving, would you have gotten fired?” Of all the questions…. You wouldn’t have been under there; we wouldn’t have let anything happen to you. He noticed the blue container I had in my hand and unzipped it’s long, slender body. He curled up against the pillows on one side of the couch and gently pulled out the piece of wood he had carefully stored inside. “I only know two notes.” Having already forgotten what occurred just minutes before, he began to play his tribal song for me (and at that volume, I assume, for all of the residences of the little planet we call Earth).

After he finished practicing (his two notes for ten minutes), he took off running, expecting me to keep up. If I stayed under the blanket on my side of the couch as the shadows from the hovering clouds danced across the walls, it would have only been a matter of time before he exasperatedly yelled my name and then attacked me from behind. Hang on, hang on….

"‘Come on!’

"‘Where?’ said Pooh.

"’Anywhere,' said Christopher Robin.

"So they went off together. But wherever they go and whatever happens to them along the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.” (A.A. Milne)

“Green pastures are before me
which I have not seen,
Bright skies will soon be o’er me
Where the dark clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure,
My path to life is free,
My Savior has been my treasure,
And He will walk with me.” (A.L. Waring)

see ya, '09

2009-12-31T20:45:00.002-06:00

"What mighty praise, O God, belongs to You.... You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance." (Psalm 65:1,11)

Happy New Year!

and He will be called... Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

2009-12-25T17:03:00.003-06:00

"My servant grew up in the Lord’s presence like a tender green shoot,
like a root in dry ground.
There was nothing beautiful or majestic about His appearance,
nothing to attract us to Him.
He was despised and rejected—
a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.
Yet it was our weaknesses He carried;
it was our sorrows that weighed Him down.
And we thought His troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for His own sins!
But He was pierced for our rebellion,
crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on Him the sins of us all.
He was oppressed and treated harshly,
yet He never said a word.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter.
And as a sheep is silent before the shearers,
He did not open His mouth.
Unjustly condemned, He was led away.
No one cared that He died without descendants,
that His life was cut short in midstream.
But He was struck down for the rebellion of my people.
He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone.
But He was buried like a criminal;
He was put in a rich man’s grave.
But it was the Lord’s good plan to crush Him and cause Him grief.
Yet when His life is made an offering for sin, He will have many descendants. He will enjoy a long life, and the Lord’s good plan will prosper in his hands. When He sees all that is accomplished by His anguish, He will be satisfied.
And because of His experience,
my righteous servant will make it possible for many to be counted righteous, for He will bear all their sins.
I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because He exposed himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels."
(Isaiah 53)

"And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a SAVIOR has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.' Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

'Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth PEACE
to men on whom his favor rests.'"

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

episode 13: too many problems

2009-12-17T12:35:00.001-06:00

matt chandler - pathology report

2009-12-17T09:50:00.005-06:00

Please be praying for Matt and Lauren Chandler, their kids and The Village Church. The following is the letter by the pastors updating the church on the pathology results. Click HERE for updates.

Dear church,

In the first chapter of Philippians, the Apostle Paul writes that whatever imprisonments, beatings and trials he may have suffered, they all "serve to advance the gospel" of Jesus Christ. We implore you to keep the gospel of Christ as the main focus as we walk with Matt and Lauren through this trial.

On Tuesday, Dr. Barnett informed Matt and Lauren that the findings of the pathology report revealed a malignant brain tumor that was not encapsulated. The surgery to remove the tumor, the doctor said, was an extremely positive first step; however, because of the nature of the tumor, he was not able to remove all of it.

Matt, who is being released from the hospital today, is meeting with a neuro-oncologist this week to outline the next steps of the recovery process. There is a range of treatment possibilities but the exact course of action has not yet been determined. He will continue outpatient rehab.

The Lord is calling Matt and Lauren and The Village Church body to endure this trial. It will be a challenging road for Matt, his family and our church body. The gospel is our hope and the Lord is our strength. Matt and Lauren continue to find solace and hope in Christ. They weep facing this trial, but not as those without hope and perspective. The gospel clarifies their suffering and promises more of Christ through it all.

You have done a wonderful job respecting the family, and we ask that you continue to do this. They are processing all of this together and need you to give them precious space. Please do not visit them at their house unless personally invited by the Chandlers. The best way to serve the family is to continue to be faithful in prayer. Specifically, pray for the following:

- Wisdom for all the coming decisions
- Strength and peace to endure
- The kids' (Audrey, Reid and Norah) hearts; pray the Lord is merciful as they process and that their little hearts do not grow embittered
- The Chandlers and The Village would suffer well because of the gospel and for the sake of Christ's name

As you hurt and weep for the family, do not do it alone. Gather with your home group and with other believers in homes and pray together. This is a time to walk together with others and to endure this trial in community. If you wish, send cards and letters to Matt and Lauren at 2101 Justin Road, Flower Mound, TX 75028.

We will continue to keep you informed as new information is made available. Please be patient with the frequency of the updates. May God strengthen us all and may His glory shine brightly through this.

never judge things by their appearance - even carpet bags.

2009-12-09T14:11:00.007-06:00

On Monday, as the sky clouded over and the air grew steamy once again, a small army of gangster elves disguised as third graders gathered on the back porch and "smoked" their candy canes.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

video from matt chandler

2009-12-07T13:40:00.002-06:00

"For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever. He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries."

- Psalm 112:6-8

a bit of magic?

2009-12-04T08:48:00.025-06:00

It’s been one of those weeks.

After much consideration, C2 named his new pet fish Teal O’Neil. (Even though he’s brown? “At night, he jumps out of the water and does cartwheels and somersaults, and his stomach turns blue.” Of course.) And my cluster headaches came for a night, a second night, and disappeared. And Rainbow (the bearded dragon) was bleeding, wait, no, he just ate some dewberries. And the SAT and I will sit down and have one last (please, Lord) dizzying conversation of words and numbers on Saturday morning. Oh right, and this morning, fat snowflakes fell straight out of the sky, and I drove to the doctor with flurries hitting my Houston-Texas-windshield, y’all. It’s been one of THOSE weeks.

And in the midst of all this global warming (ahem), you just have to snuggie-up and ask,

"Have you ever traveled to where snow is made,
seen the vault where hail is stockpiled,
The arsenals of hail and snow that I keep in readiness
for times of trouble and battle and war?
Can you find your way to where lightning is launched,
or to the place from which the wind blows?
Who do you suppose carves canyons
for the downpours of rain, and charts
the route of thunderstorms
That bring water to unvisited fields,
deserts no one ever lays eyes on,
Drenching the useless wastelands
so they're carpeted with wildflowers and grass?
And who do you think is the father of rain and dew,
the mother of ice and frost?
You don't for a minute imagine
these marvels of weather just happen, do you?"
(Job 38:22-30)

No, Sir.

And (before I go back to my snowman) C2 decided to keep warm from the cold temperatures (see above) by putting on his brother's pads and tackling little B from next door (who fell over giggling when he first caught sight of the mini-football player) because yesterday was just one of those days.

episode 12: something is tomorrow

2009-12-02T12:37:00.002-06:00

episode 11: we talk with switchfoot

2009-11-27T21:19:00.002-06:00

happy thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T17:13:00.002-06:00

"Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen."

- Revelation 7:12

docious-ali-expi-istic-fragil-cali-rupus.

2009-11-19T22:04:00.004-06:00

Main Entry: frag·ic
Pronunciation: \ˈfra-jik,
Function: adjective
Date: November 19, 2009

1. constitutionally delicate: Little B from next door screeched, "Watch it, I'm fragic!" after C2 tried to knock him over with the ripstick.

[synonyms: fragile, breakable, delicate, frail]

episode 10: funning avay

2009-11-18T17:08:00.000-06:00

we're clearly soldiers in petticoats.

2009-11-17T23:09:00.014-06:00

I scored major points in the ‘hood this afternoon when C2 heard I had a dream that he defeated the Crystal King from the deck of the Death Star. I let him in on all the details, a swirl of the latest afternoons swished together into what my subconscious randomly spit out last night. And to be honest, later I felt quite validated as I overheard my eight year old buddy excitedly describing his “babysitter’s dream” as he picked up the 168-piece Lego creation from which my dream originally drew inspiration.

C2’s bedroom is something of a Lego universe. The little men are arranged shoulder to shoulder in precise rows and are put away in their home after a hard day’s work (see also: battling Droids, cave crushing). The adventures the little men go through, however, are absolutely captivating. I mean, if their little plastic heads could talk….

It starts off very simply. C2 sits, tearing apart and building back and grabbing and contemplating and – it’s finished. He gently crams a tiny miner into a Cave Crusher, locking in the front blades and answering all of my questions about the function of each individual piece. If the vehicle passes inspection (and it never does; tiny miner has a HUGE head), C2 flips it around to face the rock monsters under the bed.

I adore his imagination. I love that he will take 168 chunks of meaningless plastic and form something new for a purpose I’ve never heard of. It creates this set up for worship for a scale much larger than 6-inches.

“God,
Creator of the heavens—
he is, remember, God.
Maker of earth—
he put it on its foundations, built it from scratch.
He didn't go to all that trouble
to just leave it empty, nothing in it.
He made it to be lived in.
This God says:

"I am God,
the one and only.
I don't just talk to myself or mumble under my breath.
I never told Jacob,
'Seek me in emptiness, in dark nothingness.
'I am God. I work out in the open,
saying what's right, setting things right." (Isaiah 45)

Now to take one last verse completely out of it’s context, “Since then we are God's offspring, we ought not to suppose that Deity (the Godhead) is like gold or silver or stone, [of the nature of] a representation by human art and imagination, or anything constructed or invented.” (Acts 17:29)

He's way greater than the Lego creations, too.

dotty as you please.

2009-11-16T18:31:00.015-06:00

C2 shut the front door, chunked his backpack under the dining room table, and continued on through the kitchen and out the back door without a word. By the time I caught up to him (struggling to get the garage door unlocked and his bike out) we managed to communicate the immediate plan: he was leaving for his friend’s house a few streets over. I grabbed the key to the garage and began jiggling to get it open for him. As he hopped up next to me and we shoved together, he asked if I knew where the friend lived. Yep. I followed you last time.

“You what?!” I followed you.

“Katie, . . . people are gonna wonder.”

episode 9: hello hurricane

2009-11-11T13:09:00.001-06:00

aren't we sick yet of missing out on life?

2009-11-09T22:20:00.003-06:00

My blog post failed, so check out this Katie's instead:

"Francis Chan wrote, 'How we live our days, is how we live our lives.' I had to read it several times as I let it soak in. Because it is true. So often we find ourselves waiting for a specific moment, a specific call, something special. For what? How we spend our days... that will be our LIFE. Because today could be it. If Jesus came back today and said, 'Let's go!' would we be ready? Would we be doing what we want to be doing when we meet Jesus? People say to me often, 'You are so lucky that you found your calling, that you know your purpose in life.' This statement boggles my mind. I AM so blessed to live the life that I do. But it isn't rocket science. God did NOT part the sky and shout out to me, 'Katie! Serve my people.' I read it in His word. You can too. We can all see as plain as day that Jesus says the number one commandment is to love the Lord and love your neighbor. I happened to move to Uganda and love those neighbors, but that is not the point. As believers, we should already KNOW our calling; it is to love the Lord and love our neighbors by caring for them in whatever broken state they are in. When He said that 'the poor will always be among us' I don't think he meant that as an excuse not to worry about it but as a reminder that there is ALWAYS a neighbor, no matter where we are, in a worse condition than we are. I can only believe that God created us to make this world a little better. That he designed us in love to show that love to others. I just don't know what everyone is waiting for."

Read the rest of her post HERE.

how to be lovely

2009-11-06T21:43:00.000-06:00

update, yo

2009-11-05T21:35:00.009-06:00

Hey guys,

I'm so sorry for a lack of stories lately. These days, my life is a jumble of cluster headaches and doctors appointments and studying. Nannying has continued, however, and as soon as I get our latest (mis)adventures typed, they'll be up!

Love you guys lots and lots and lots.

episode 8: throwing things

2009-11-04T16:40:00.001-06:00

crazy love

2009-11-03T21:40:00.004-06:00

"I think we naturally assume that if we look out for our own interests and concerns, we will be happy. But people who sacrifice for others will tell you that seasons of giving are the most rewarding of their lives.

"It turns out the Bible is right - 'It is better to give than to receive' (Acts 20:35). People generally do find greater joy in giving freely to others than they do in rampant self-indulgence. Regarding this, the playwright George Bernard Shaw writes, 'This is true joy in life, the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.'

"God is the only true Giver, and He needs nothing from us. But still He wants us. He gave us life so that we might seek and know Him."

- Francis Chan, Crazy Love

hebrews 13:7

2009-11-02T21:16:00.002-06:00

"Remember those who led you,
who spoke the word of God to you;
and considering the result of their conduct,
imitate their faith."

mellow greetings, yookie dookie

2009-10-31T19:55:00.001-05:00

know ye not that ... ye are not your own?

2009-10-29T21:39:00.007-05:00

"Why shouldn't we go through heartbreaks? Through those doorways God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son. Most of us fall and collapse at the first grip of pain; we sit down on the threshold of God's purpose and die away of self-pity, and all so-called Christian sympathy will aid us to our death bed. But God will not. He comes with the grip of the pierced hand of His Son, and says - 'Enter into fellowship with Me; arise and shine.' If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."

- Oswald Chambers

episode 7: happiness

2009-10-28T13:05:00.001-05:00

the state of the american woman

2009-10-27T19:48:00.013-05:00

I was thrilled to find out that Carolyn McCulley had covered TIME's latest special report. The following is from her post, which I highly recommend checking out:

"TIME magazine just published a special report, "The State of the American Woman." The Rockefeller Foundation, in collaboration with TIME, conducted a landmark survey of gender issues to assess how individual Americans are reacting. What they wanted to know was whether the battle of the sexes was really over, and if so, did anyone win? I guess it depends on how you define winning, because one of the more challenging aspects of this report is what was said about women's happiness:

Among the most confounding changes of all is the evidence, tracked by numerous surveys, that as women have gained more freedom, more education and more economic power, they have become less happy. No tidy theory explains the trend, notes University of Pennsylvania economist Justin Wolfers, a co-author of The Paradox of Declining Female Happiness. "We looked across all sectors — young vs. old, kids or no kids, married or not married, education, no education, working or not working — and it stayed the same," he says of the data.

"This has also been reported elsewhere. For example, Maureen Dowd of The New York Times wrote an op/ed piece in September about the same trend, titled "Blue is the New Black." These media reports have in common the Wharton study released in May titled, "The Paradox of Declining Female Happiness." In my opinion, the Wharton study uncovered one important reason for declining female happiness in an age that upended what feminist Betty Friedan saw as the problem back in 1963: the trapped housewife syndrome. Now that women are no longer bound by what Friedan saw as the primary problem of women, you'd think we'd all be happier. But the Wharton study noted the emotional ties to home still affect women:

Arlie Hochschild’s and Anne Machung’s The Second Shift (1989) argued that women’s movement into the paid labor force was not accompanied by a shift away from household production and they were thus now working a “second shift”. However, time use surveys do not bear this out. Aguiar and Hurst (2007) document relatively equal declines in total work hours since 1965 for both men and women, with the increase in hours of market work by women offset by large declines in their non-market work. Similarly, men are now working fewer hours in the market and more hours in home production. Blau (1998) points to the increased time spent by married men on housework and the decreased total hours worked (in the market and in the home) by married women relative to married men as evidence of women’s improved bargaining position in the home. However, it should be noted that the argument went beyond counting hours in The Second Shift. Women, they argued, have maintained the emotional responsibility for home and family: a point that is perhaps best exemplified by the familiar refrains of a man “helping” around the house or being a good dad when “babysitting” the kids. Thus even if men are putting in more hours, it is difficult to know just how much of the overall burden of home production has shifted, as measuring the emotional, as well as physical, work of making a home is a much more difficult task. "Though the goal of second-wave feminism was to severely diminish the importance of home--the private sphere of our important relationships--it is clear that this isn't possible because the feminine capacity for nurturing and bearing life still courses through us. That's not to say we don't enjoy other tasks and goals outside of the home. It means that the simplistic approach to modeling women's life structures after men's is ridiculously stressful. The home does matter and the relationships nurtured there do carry a priority.

"In fact, you can see this is the results of the Rockefeller/TIME poll. The theme of relationships courses throughout the poll and dominates the issue of priorities:

Being married is very important to 58% of men vs. 53% of women.

Men and women largely agree on the importance of most life goals. The biggest difference in life goals? Fifty-eight percent of men describe religious faith as very important vs. 68% of women.

There's a definition perception gap at work: TIME reports that 69% of women think men resent women who have more power than they do; only 49% of men agree. But only 29% of men say that female bosses are harder to work for than male bosses, compared with 45% of women.
More than a third of men over age 65 say that with the rise of women in society and the workplace, men no longer know their role vs. 25% of men ages 18 to 29.

"But most interesting of all was this snapshot from TIME:

In the 1970s, a majority of children grew up with a stay-at-home parent; now that figure is less than a third. A large majority — 70% of men, 61% of women — believe this has had a negative effect on society. Fifty-seven percent of men and 51% of women agree that it is better for a family if the father works outside the home and the mother takes care of the children. Asked to rank what they value most for their own daughters, 63% of men and 56% of women put a happy marriage with children first; 17% of men and 23% of women said an interesting career; and 15% of men and 20% of women said financial success.

"If a happy marriage and children is the highest priority for more than half of those surveyed, then I believe we need to be more intentional about helping our culture achieve those goals. The timeless truth of the Bible still speaks to us today and we who know the Word should not shrink back from leading others to learn it."

2009-10-26T19:30:00.005-05:00

"In the future there is laid up for me

the crown of righteousness,

which the Lord, the righteous Judge,

will award to me on that day;

and not only to me, but also to all

who have loved His appearing.

... Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"

- 2 Timothy 4:8; Revelation 22:20

"Do you love the Lord's appearing? Then you will bend every effort to take the gospel into all the world. It troubles me in the light of the clear teaching of God's Word, in the light of our explicit definition of our task in The Great Commission (Mat. 28:18-20) that we take it so lightly.... His is the kingdom; He reigns in heaven and He manifests His reign on earth in and through His church. When we have accomplished our mission, He will return and establish His kingdom in glory. To us it is given not only to wait for but also to hasten the coming of the day of God (2 Pet. 3:12)."

- George Ladd, The Gospel of the Kingdom

state bound!

2009-10-24T20:26:00.004-05:00

May I just brag on my brothers for a sec'?

Yes?

Okay, good... because THEY'RE GOING TO STATE!

colossians 1:15-18

2009-10-23T22:49:00.011-05:00

"We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God's original purpose in everything created. For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment. And when it comes to the church, he organizes and holds it together, like a head does a body."

(And on an unrelated note, I'd like to apologize for a mistake made in yesterday's post. Oma and Opa from next door are not from Germany. They are from the Czech Republic. That is to say, they still live in Dallas.)

oh, yes, definitely. a view halloo.

2009-10-22T22:20:00.007-05:00

I was sitting on the sidewalk smashing acorns. Little B from next door stood in front of me with his chin up in the air and the biggest smile on his face, as he explained that today was Grandparent’s Day. His babysitter had the day off because his grandparents were in from out of town. C2 sauntered over, and B led the way through the grass: “Guess where my Oma and Opa are from.”

“Pennsylvania?”

“No.”

“California?”

“No.”

“New York?”

"No, they’re from Germany.”

I picked at the mud from the dirt clod C2 chunked at my legs (upon greeting) as the pair began tearing apart the garage.

“Germany?” C2 picked up a long stick. “Do they speak Europe?”

B shook his head. “They speak German. They’re from Germany, but they live in Dallas.”

Naturally.

C2 resumed his poking about the garage with the stick, but his feet slowly ceased shuffling. He leaned over a very familiar Tupperware container, and I looked over his shoulder at our dear friend, who rested in a very new cocoon.

After staring at the silky clump for awhile and contemplating the life cycle of a caterpillar, I closed the garage door and left him to his slumber, as the boys walked back down the driveway discussing where all he might have travelled in the first stage of his lifetime. (“New Jersey?” “No.” “Washington?” “No.” “China?” “No.”)

Sleep tight, Heinrich.

i feel a surge of deep satisfaction, much as a king astride his noble steed - thank you.

2009-10-21T20:48:00.010-05:00

Today was magical.

C2 slammed the glass front door after announcing he was leaving for a neighbor’s house, and I slipped a peak through the blinds to make sure he was picking up his bike to speed through the mosquito-ed mist. Like every other day, I prepared to count to thirty and trot along after him, sneaking behind trees like a spy to see where he really went. I trust him. He’s eight. No, really, I trust him.

After 14.3562 seconds of sneaking and peaking, I watched as he literally threw down his bike and sprinted to the white pillar on his front porch. Another 8.415 seconds passed as I watched him frozen in awe and speculation; I waited until he whirled around and screamed my name. I walked outside, and my jaw dropped.

It was a caterpillar. Oh, my friends, it was not just any caterpillar. It was Heimlich.

More specifically, it was an Antheraea polyphemus. And how I wish I had known that then. C2 would have been impressed beyond any natural, human expression of admiration. Instead, we crawled to the live slinky, and he whispered “It’s so cool,” and I reverently responded, It’s the most crazy awesome thing I’ve ever seen.

Then he grabbed it. I swatted his arm because, obviously, it's poisonous, and he could have died; and he chunked it back against the pillar. And we continued to sit, amazed as it slinked along and shedded a delicate trail of a silk-like substance.

Now, I realize, dear readers, that you probably see these lime-green-jello-monsters every single day, so no big deal. But we were captivated, fascinated to the point of giddiness. C2 squinted at me and sighed, “I just love watching nature.”

He walked inside and came back out and walked inside – not the china! – and came back out – seriously, will you ever eat out of that again knowing what Heimlich probably did in there? - and walked inside and came back out with a container he then filled with carefully picked leaves and acorns and twigs. He hurriedly placed the grass and excitedly set the caterpillar in his new home. My kiddo practically skipped and sang as he dropped off the box in the house and biked away to inform his friends.

It was an enchanting afternoon.

When his mom set her purse down and discovered the newest family member scooting down her kitchen counter, I could have sworn I heard C2's prize happily crying out, “But I AM flying! And from way up here you all look like little ants! Auf Wiedersehen!"

“What a wildly wonderful world, God!
You made it all, with Wisdom at your side,
made earth overflow with your wonderful creations.

“… All the creatures look expectantly to you
to give them their meals on time.
You come, and they gather around;
you open your hand and they eat from it.
If you turned your back, they'd die in a minute—
Take back your Spirit and they die,
revert to original mud;
Send out your Spirit and they spring to life—
the whole countryside in bloom and blossom.

“The glory of God—let it last forever!
Let God enjoy his creation!

“...Oh, let me sing to God all my life long,
sing hymns to my God as long as I live!
Oh, let my song please him; I'm so pleased to be singing to God...
O my soul, bless God!”

- Psalm 104:24-30

in Christ alone

2009-10-20T21:14:00.005-05:00

"I will exalt You, LORD, because You have lifted me up and have not allowed my enemies to triumph over me. LORD my God, I cried to You for help, and You healed me. LORD, You brought me up from Sheol; You spared me from among those going down to the Pit. Sing to the LORD, you His faithful ones, and praise His holy name. For His anger lasts only a moment, but His favor, a lifetime. Weeping may spend the night, but there is joy in the morning. When I was secure, I said, 'I will never be shaken.' LORD, when You showed Your favor, You made me stand like a strong mountain; when You hid Your face, I was terrified. LORD, I called to You; I sought favor from my Lord: 'What gain is there in my death, in my descending to the Pit? Will the dust praise You? Will it proclaim Your truth? LORD, listen and be gracious to me; LORD, be my helper.' You turned my lament into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, so that I can sing to You and not be silent. LORD my God, I will praise You forever."

- Psalm 30:1-12

"No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand." (Stuart Townend, Keith Getty)

special episode: the choice

2009-10-19T09:21:00.002-05:00

psalm 119:175

2009-10-16T20:17:00.002-05:00

"Invigorate my soul so I can praise You well,
use Your decrees to put iron in my soul."

who am i ... that You have brought me this far?

2009-10-15T21:23:00.007-05:00

"God is the Author of life, not man nor science. Indeed Jeremiah 1:5 says, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.' The psalmist responded to a strikingly similar God given revelation with these words:

"'Certainly you made my mind and heart; you wove me together in my mother's womb. I will give you thanks because your deeds are awesome and amazing. You knew me thoroughly; my bones were not hidden from you, when I was made in secret and sewed together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb. All the days ordained for me were recorded on your scroll before one of them came into existence. How difficult it is for me to fathom your thoughts about me, O God! How vast is their sum total!' (Ps. 139:13-17, NET).

"We desperately need reminders like these especially when something horrible has happened. We've got to know we're cherished and have been since - take time for wonder - before we were conceived. We were planned by someone who pondered the panoramic canvas of our entire lives, in living color, dimension, and texture, with joy as if it had already been well lived. We were assigned purpose and placed within a God-created system where no pain can come to us unless it serves that exact purpose. We need to know that the events we find so baffling don't mean God has forgotten about us or forsaken us. Perhaps, if we'd stretch our hearts and minds to perceive it, He has instead trusted us.

"... We've been reminded how before David's great awe with God - that led him to cry out, 'How great you are, O Sovereign LORD! There is no one like you!' - he first experienced the stunning, deadly failure to bring the ark into Jerusalem. Though David had been angry and afraid (2 Sam. 6:8-9), the word of God's blessing on the lives of others steeled and steadies his conviction that God is totally good. He is completely righteous. He is always holy.

"David then went back for the ark and took every ounce of his shaken heart to the God he'd loved since childhood. A bruised heart that chooses to beat with a passion for God amid pulsing pain and confusion may be just be the most expensive offering placed on the divine altar. He esteems yours as much as He esteemed His beloved David's."

- Beth Moore; Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed

episode 6: siblings

2009-10-14T11:43:00.000-05:00

prayer request

2009-10-13T17:54:00.016-05:00

My dear blog buddies,

Most of y'all know I have cluster headaches. Most of y'all know their patterns already: between cluster cycles (where episodes occur every day for weeks), my body normally has about thirty to forty days to rest and heal. This last time, I had eight days. Tonight is my fifth consecutive night of attacks for this new cycle, and to be honest, with episodes lasting eighteen hours of the daily twenty-four, my body's hurting. A lot.

Yesterday, we went back to the doctor who (changed my drugs yet again but) admitted that he doesn't know what to do anymore. At this point, we're all heartbroken and simply do not understand why this has been going on for so long, or why the episodes are not responding to any treatment.

Pride has made it extremely hard for me to write this post, but we so desperately need your prayers. If you could be praying for wisdom for my doctors, peace and strength for my family, and relief from the pain, we would greatly appreciate it.

We're continually humbled by all who have continued to pray and love on our family. I could not even begin to express in words how much it means.

Thankfully, these hard times are small potatoes (grin), and even in the worst of conditions, we've still got hope. And a Hope. (Jeremiah 29:11 , Romans 5:5)

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." (Revelation 21:4)

Love you guys.

small potatoes

2009-10-12T19:05:00.003-05:00

"So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever."

- 2 Corinthians 4:14-16

pin split (part two)

2009-10-10T22:47:00.008-05:00

When I was three, I prayed every night for a sister. When I was three and a half, my twin brothers were born.

Fifteen years later, I've never been so thankful that a prayer wasn't answered the way I originally wanted.

Words could not even BEGIN to express how much I love you two. You are the most amazing young men I know, and I am so ridiculously proud of both of you. And now, because you're sitting right next to me as I write this, I'm going to stop my message here and... attack!

Happy birthday, my pins!

pin split (part one)

2009-10-09T19:31:00.013-05:00

My baby brothers turn fifteen on Sunday.

FIFTEEN.

They already have plans to pick up their permits and take over the Houston freeways as soon as the calendar flips to October 11. But this should be no big deal: they've been driving for years.

Because they're twins (or pins, as they corrected everyone who made this common mistake twelve years ago), they celebrate on different days. Because they're twins, the baby pictures must be brought out on separate posts.

But I don't mind. I kind of like these two.

neither am i a maypole. kindly stop spinning about me.

2009-10-08T21:27:00.020-05:00

I thought I was out of Nanny material. It truly made me sad because I take my role as an aspiring MP [Mary Poppins] very seriously (I’ve even searched eBay for a carpetbag and an umbrella with a parrot head: I’m waiting to purchase until that magical moment when the right one speaks to me). However, I may have thought wrong.

Over the weekend, C1 and C2 moved to a beautiful house in a different neighborhood. Though the distance is not more than five miles from the other residence, it’s caused some major changes. For example, C2 rode home on his new bus yesterday. I was warned in advance that he was worried, so I grabbed flashcards to memorize and plopped down in the sunshine with plenty of time to spare and without any chance of missing his arrival. Right on schedule, his bus slowed to a whiny stop at the end of the street, and two little boys hopped off. Neither were mine. The bus seemed to hug the curb for an extra long time before it pulled away again. Not surprising. If anyone could stop a full bus, it would be my child.

The set of brothers were greeted by their mom, and all three waved to me as they walked in the house a patch of grass away from my own. A flash of yellow distracted me as it danced around the corner. Now I’m not an expert in the least on public school transportation, but something seemed to have gone very wrong in that moment. What happens to those who stay on the bus? Is it like a ski lift where you have the possibility to circle around and around forever unless someone grabs your hand, yanks you off, and shoves you into the snow?

In between fighting tears and running barefoot after the bus, I called my mom (who, since the last time I lost a kid, has still not misplaced one of her own). As we worked through my rescue plan, the bus came back. MY bus. I had memorized the number painted on the back and had been chanting it subconsciously since it disappeared the first time.

It parked in front of my house. The bus, that is. The bus filled to the brim with hyperactive third-graders. The driver rolled down the window and waved at me and yelled, “Are you C2’s sister?” I had two options: deny everything and run inside, or face whatever was to come. No... no, I’m his babysitter. “Oh, I dropped C2 off one street over. I wasn’t sure what to do , but he said it was okay and got off with….” She proceeded to write down the friend’s first and last name, his address, his phone number. God bless her. She smiled apologetically as if it were her fault, and said she was new to the route. She reassured me that C1 was on his way. He could still go missing, but he hadn't yet. Great.

All the while, her own charges had rolled down the windows, impatient and sweaty. The bus rolled on down the street, and after taking off in the direction of my kid, I spotted him bouncing along toward home, picking up lizards, throwing acorns back at the squirrels, chatting happily to his new best friend.

New house, new life happenings, but some things never change.

episode 5: real problems

2009-10-07T12:28:00.001-05:00

time together isn't ever quite enough

2009-10-06T18:38:00.015-05:00

I apologize for the lack of "real" posts lately. Life has been nuts, and I must confess: the blog has been low on my priority list. But now that my fever and cluster headaches have ceased (still looking for that homework cure), I promise stories will be up soon.

Love!

e. dickinson

2009-10-05T21:12:00.003-05:00

Saying nothing... sometimes says the most.

set-apart

2009-10-03T11:43:00.006-05:00

"The world-altering and life-giving secret that was kept hidden through the ages, but is now made known to Christ's set-apart ones, is simply this: Jesus Christ, your heavenly Prince, will actually make your earthly body His royal residence! Yes, it's true! The Prince coming to live within your sanctuary - this is the world-altering secret that ushers in His kingdom." - Colossians 1:26-27 (paraphrase)

"Christ's set-apart ones have all gone through the same inner-transformation process. They have all kicked Self off the throne of their lives, eliminating the controlling power of sin, and offered the heavenly Prince the ruling power of their existence." - Galatians 5:24 (paraphrase)

"To be my disciple, to be a set-apart one, costs everything you have. Don't delude yourself into thinking it will only cost you a portion of your existence! The very essence of a disciple is one who has completely emptied her inner sanctuary of all other lovers to make room for Me, her heavenly Prince." - Luke 14:33 (paraphrase)

"I ask that God, out of His infinite supply of spiritual riches, would mightily supply your inner life with His Spirit's enabling power, so that Christ, your heavenly Prince, might make your inner sanctuary His sacred residence as you lean more and more on Him. And I also desire that you would be able to comprehend, along with all God's set-apart children, the extraordinary life-altering dimensions of Christ's love. But even more than comprehending this love in your mind, I want you to know it experientially, deep within your heart, so that you may have every ounce of God within you that is humanly possible to have." - Ephesians 3:16-19 (paraphrase)

"The unmarried young woman centers her earthly existence around the affairs of her heavenl Prince, and her aim in life is to be completely set apart for Him, in body and in spirit." - 1 Corinthians 7:34 (paraphrase)

(- Leslie Ludy, Authentic Beauty)

to trust You

2009-10-02T22:34:00.013-05:00

This song has been on repeat on my ipod for several weeks. It's not from a genre I normally listen to, but the words resonated in a way I can't describe. I wanted to leave them here for y'all tonight; they're so powerful:

"Did You hear me crying out to You? Did You hear me?

I did all I knew to do... I prayed, had faith, but You still took him away from me.

I can choose to ask why. I can choose to be angry. I can wrestle when life is not what I thought it would be. I can wish that all the pain would simply go away. And at the same time, I can choose, Lord, to trust You.

Do You see me? I can't do this on my own. Are You near me?

Just let me know I'm not alone.

I prayed, had faith that You would answer me so differently. So, I can choose to ask why. I can choose to be angry. I can wrestle when life is not what I thought it would be. I can wish that all the pain would simply go away. And at the same time, I can choose, Lord, to trust Your ways are not my ways, to know there's purpose in this pain, to trust that you will bring my joy again.

But I'm still asking why. I can wish that all this pain would simply go away, but at the same, I can choose, Lord, to trust You."

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust You, how I’ve proved You o’er and o’er. Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus. O for grace to trust You more...

faithful

2009-10-01T19:45:00.006-05:00

From Beth Moore's blog:

"Lately God has really been bringing that first part of Hebrews 11:6 back to my mind in living, breathing color like on a cartoon strip of a newspaper. You probably know the verse by heart even if you don’t know exactly where it lives: “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” Don’t dismiss it or yawn past it with over-familiarity because it encompasses the single most important concept of our existence. On most mornings as I meet with God in the quiet before dawn, I say some form of these words: 'Lord, I want so much to please you…' Recently, I’ve found myself in a season where I’m having to put very deliberate, focused trust in God in order not to be overcome by a few obstacles and invitations to fear. It’s not a bad place to be. It’s just a very intense place to be. Those seasons never fail to become the most memorable markers on my path with Christ. A few days ago when I was saying those same words to Him ('I want so much to please You, Lord'), I felt like He spoke back. These very clear and unsolicited thoughts formed like a pencil sketch on the wall of my mind: 'Beth, you keep telling Me that you want to please Me and I esteem that. It is seeing you exercise your faith with great courage and against emotions and odds that pleases Me most. You’ve had a little break in some areas lately. What do you say we get back to that walk again?'

"... Nope. Not a bad place to be at all. Just intense. For some of you... , really intense. Much more intense than what I’m going through. I want Him and the sense of His presence more than anything in this whole world. I’ve tasted it and there’s nothing in life like it. Many of you feel that same way. This many decades into a journey with Christ, I’ve concluded that the paths where our faith is stretched beyond our circumstances, our emotions, and natural conclusions are the ones where we receive the most vivid divine disclosures. These are the experiences that shape the paragraphs of our life stories. These are what keep us from being the snoozers and reward-losers in the Body of Christ. These are our hikes up the mountain where Jesus is transfigured before us. I am convinced that, in seasons that call for a powerful outbreak of faith, victory is never accidental. We make up our minds to believe God. To make no choice at all is to choose defeat. Fear. Intimidation. Constant psychological warfare.

"SO, my verses this time around in our Scripture memory challenge are centered on faith because I find myself there again. I’m not feeling whiny because this is the place the Word jumps off the page for me and my prayer time passes before I’m finished. This is the place I grow. Every other place is where I simply maintain. Don’t get me wrong. Maintaining is not a bad thing as long as we can swing on the Vine to the other side of the road when we get an opportunity to land in a growth spurt. I’m choosing several verses this time because they’re each familiar enough to me to be fairly easy to memorize. I know them by concept and paraphrase. Now I want to know them word for word. If you want, choose just one of them and let it build up your sweet faith. Maybe you’ve forgotten lately that you are a warrior. He is so worthy of this, Sister.

"Of Abraham, Romans 4:20-21 NIV says…

"'He did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what He had promised.'

"(By the way, when I recite that one to God, I’ll probably often take it personally and use a “she” for me instead of a “he” for Abraham. After all, his faith walk is over and mine is still very much in flux.)

"And one more. It’s a really short portion but it shoots a straight shot and I love it. It’s Isaiah 7:9b NIV… 'If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.' No kidding. Let’s get back up, Girls. Remember, faithfulness is never passive. It is the active filling of every gap with faith."

episode 4: random people

2009-09-30T14:28:00.001-05:00

2009-09-29T07:11:00.007-05:00

Petrichor.
pronunciation: /ˈpɛtrɨkər/;
from Greek petros "stone" + ichor ("the fluid that is supposed to flow in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology")

the name of the scent of rain on dry earth.

beauty from pain

2009-09-26T20:09:00.005-05:00

"After all this has passed, I still will remain. After I’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain. Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again.... You will bring beauty from my pain."

"The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, an the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; ... that He may be glorified." (Isaiah 61:1-3)

we better keep an eye on this one.

2009-09-25T20:50:00.019-05:00

Right now, it’s the little moments that matter.

Like when the cats scrambled passed me after hearing the clank…. clank. “OHH MAN.” clank. (silence) wooooooshhhhh. clankclankclankclankclankclank as the twenty-four pack of Dr. Pepper fell off the shelf and slammed into the tile, flooding the pantry in a sea of carbonation. Like when we (C2 and I) then spent a good fifteen minutes on our knees laughing and mopping as another can exploded and sprayed sticky liquid in our hair. Like when he asked if he’d get in trouble because of the accident. Asked if that sort of thing had ever happened to me before. Asked if I could relate.

Or yesterday, when C2 started cracking up as acorns rained down from the tree I read beneath, giggling as I dodged the pellets that flew toward my head at angles which could only have come from a family of vindictive squirrels spread out all over the branches to take their shots. And when he covered his head and explained how “A squirrel attacked me one time. It hurt… He scratched my arm and stuff. Like this.” Like that. My forearm may forever be scarred. But he wanted me to understand so, as inspired by an angry rodent, he dug his nails into my skin and let me feel it too.

We spend more and more time together, and his stories burst out. I’m supposed to catch each one and toss it back. He watches my throw, watches to see if I can get it back to him on target. If I’m paying attention. If I understand. The everyday stories have become the deciding move: if he makes the pitch, and I let it fly by because it’s "trivial" and "unimportant", I’m out of the game.

Because the little moments determine whether or not he’ll ask later about a problem that's "meaningful", that matters even to people older than eight. These day-to-day, ordinary situations determine whether or not my young friend will hurl a heavier topic my way with the confidence that I’ll be there to snag it. That I’ll be on the other end to hold on to what he throws until he wants it back.

Most likely I will have never played the position he asks for, but generally all that's needed is someone in the outfield, someone to keep him from playing alone. That's what matters.

“GOD, …I'm an open book to You; even from a distance, You know what I'm thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I'm never out of Your sight. You know everything I'm going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and You're there, then up ahead and You're there, too — Your reassuring presence, coming and going. You know me inside and out….” (Psalm 139)

episode 3: social integration

2009-09-23T18:23:00.006-05:00

Have YOU seen A Talkshow with Caleb and John yet? It will change your life.

Don't forget to become a Facebook fan and follow their Twitter account. You won't regret it. "Stay beautiful!"

and it scares me to think that i could choose my life over You

2009-09-22T19:49:00.023-05:00

I've reenacted the "lemonade stand" story so many times this week that I finally broke down and wrote it out with good ol' paper and ink tonight. But I'm going to save it for a later post (finally - I know, I know - a "Nanny Diaries" update). I realize this sounds like an intentional hook to reel you in, but it's not. I promise. (Besides, if I was trying to catch your attention, wouldn't it have been smarter to dig for more desirable bait? For example, mentioning that my Mary Poppins duties this week included filming a movie? But I digress.)

With my cluster headaches (still occurring about 17 hours of the day) lately, I've been studying as much as possible the actions needed to fight off our enemy. "For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ." (2 Cor 10:3-5)

Though my body is under severe attack right now, I feel like what is being hit the hardest is my mind. I'm exhausted and growing increasingly weaker, but I think the enemy targets my thoughts to a more concentrated extent than my physical strength. Because it's where I'm most vulnerable. Because if my mentality and outlook is twisted and what I know questioned, fear takes over and all focus is lost. This is what makes 2 Corinthians 10:5 incredibly important.

Taking that a step further, Ephesians 6 lays out the entire armor of God, but the only piece of weapon that is intended for the offensive is the Word of God. The verse following the mention of the Word says in all circumstances we should be "praying at all times in the Spirit...."

"I am utterly convinced that the two major weapons with divine power in our warfare are the Word of God and Spirit-empowered prayer." (Beth Moore)

Over the last few days, I've been learning (slowly! very, very slowly) the importance of praying the Scripps when in trials, as well as when everything is seemingly fine. We have been given what's necessary to break through strongholds, current and to come.

On a personal level, it's hit me that though we're given weapons to fight for deliverance, my relationship with our Healer is more important than my actual healing. My tiny brain is having a very difficult time swallowing this concept. But all in all, prayer doesn't always change our circumstances (I may be stuck with this physical pain), but prayer always, absolutely changes us.

(The following prayers are taken from Moore's Praying God's Word and based on the verses in parentheses)

"My Father, You are the the Lord my God. I desire to love You, listen to Your voice, and hold fast to You, for You, Lord, are my life." (Deut. 30:20)

"Father, by faith in the name of Jesus, make me strong. Help me to realize that it is Jesus' name and the faith that comes through Him that heal me." (Acts 3:16)

"I love You, O Lord, my strength! You are my Rock, my Fortress, and my Deliverer; You, my God, are my Rock, in whom I take refuge. You are my shield and the horn of my salvation, my Stronghold! I call to You, O Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies!" (Ps. 18:1-3)

"I trust in You, Lord, so I'll let You rescue me. Teach me to delight in You and deliver me, O God." (Ps. 22:8)

One last Scripp I'm prayin' tonight (focusing on the last paragraph):

"I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and He will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted....

"You hold my eyelids open; ... I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, 'Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.'

"Then my spirit made a diligent search: 'Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has His steadfast love forever ceased? Are His promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has He in anger shut up His compassion?

"Then I said, 'I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.'

"I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your wonders of old. I will ponder all Your work, and meditate on Your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known your might among the peoples. You with Your arm redeemed Your people, the children of Jacob and Joseph. When the waters saw You, O God, when the waters saw You, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; Your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of Your thunder was in the whirlwind; Your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, Your path through the great waters; yet Your footprints were unseen...." (Psalm 77)

Love you guys.

episode 2: going places

2009-09-21T20:05:00.006-05:00

Remember these guys?

Check out the second episode of
What is Your Problem? a talk show with caleb and john:

Become a Facebook fan.
Check out episode 2 on Youtube.
Follow their Twitter account.

And as always, don't forget to leave them a comment with your opinion and your problem.

"Stay beautiful!"

that's a wrap

2009-09-19T20:48:00.017-05:00

Last night, my little town showcased an impressive amount of blue. Mustang-blue. We moved here about two years ago, and it still amazes me that most of the town stands behind the local high school football team. (Stars Hollow, anyone?)

Tradition holds that the band upperclassmen (with parental permission) wrap the houses of their freshmen the night of the first home game. This isn't the first middle-of-the-night-excursion. We started off the school year with nineteen band guys lined up outside my bedroom door at four in the morning to kidnap my brothers. Except I have twin brothers, so everything that happens must happen twice. Early this morning, our yard was TP-ed not once, but two times (despite, please note, our hilariously severe lack of trees).

(All pictures were captured around three o'clock this afternoon after the majority of the toilet paper had spread all over the neighborhood.)

I really should have helped clean up...,

but I found it too great a Kodak moment to pass up

and thus spent the afternoon standing in the grass, cracking up at their newly found, tree-poking skills.

Welcome to high school, M&M. I love you!

psalm 97.

2009-09-17T20:57:00.004-05:00

The LORD reigns, let the earth rejoice;
let the many coastlands be glad!
Clouds and thick darkness are all around him;
righteousness and justice are the foundation of His throne.
Fire goes before him
and burns up his adversaries all around.
His lightnings light up the world;
the earth sees and trembles.
The mountains melt like wax before the LORD,
before the Lord of all the earth.

The heavens proclaim his righteousness,
and all the peoples see his glory.
All worshipers of images are put to shame,
who make their boast in worthless idols;
worship him, all you gods!

Zion hears and is glad,
and the daughters of Judah rejoice,
because of your judgments, O LORD.
For you, O LORD, are most high over all the earth;
you are exalted far above all gods.

you who love the LORD, hate evil!
He preserves the lives of his saints;
he delivers them from the hand of the wicked.
Light is sown for the righteous,
and joy for the upright in heart.
Rejoice in the LORD, O you righteous,
and give thanks to his holy name!

episode 1: a talk show with caleb and john

2009-09-16T10:13:00.012-05:00

I'm so jazzed about this

What is Your Problem? a talk show with caleb and john

because it's the brand new, official website for the talkshow my good friends and fellow bloggers Caleb and John started. "A Talk Show with Caleb and John" began as a Facebook favorite, and last week (with recent sponsor Sugar Creek Baptist Church's student ministry LYF behind them), their new site and show launched.

These guys are awesome.

Check out episode 1 on Youtube.

Become a Facebook fan.

Follow their Twitter account.

And don't forget to leave them a comment with your opinion and your problem.

"Stay beautiful!"

send Your fire, send Your fire

2009-09-15T22:55:00.018-05:00

I had stories to add to the ever-growing Nanny Diaries tonight, but my body is refusing to let me capture them for you.

After I said goodbye to my kiddos this afternoon and hopped in my car, I felt a small stabbing pain begin to grow behind my left eye. It’s been a month since my cluster headaches ceased to interrupt my daily life, and today’s attack surprised me. It’s been hours since it occurred, and I’m still not sure if my brain has fully absorbed the fact that this will most likely be the first of days and days of horrifically painful episodes.

Until this information sinks in (and especially when it does), we’re on our knees. While my enemy's assaults could be far worse than even nasty cluster headaches, we’re praying for God to utterly destroy as promised. ("There is none like God.... who rides through the heavens to your help, through the skies in His majesty. The eternal God is Your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms. And He thrust out the enemy before you and said, Destroy." Deut. 33:26-27) I’m running out of words this evening, so I’ll let Cece Winans' lyrics speak instead:

"I'm tired of principalities messing with me;

I'm tired of the devil stealing from me.

I promise he won't get one more thing.

I'm taking it back, taking territory.

I'm ready for the battle; I'm ready to win.

My weapon of power: He lives within.

I can't be defeated; the enemy gotta flee.

I'm taking it back, taking territory."

"The LORD is my strength and my song, and He has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise Him, my father’s God, and I will exalt Him. The LORD is a man of war; the LORD is his name. Your right hand, O LORD, glorious in power, your right hand, O LORD shatters the enemy. In the greatness of Your majesty You overthrow your adversaries; You send out your fury; it consumes them like stubble. The enemy said, 'I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil, my desire shall have its fill of them. I will draw my sword; my hand shall destroy them.'

"Who is like You, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like You, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders? You stretched out Your right hand; the earth swallowed them. You have led in Your steadfast love the people whom You have redeemed; You have guided them by Your strength to Your holy abode." - Exodus 15:2-3, 6-7, 9, 11-13

"Fire by night,

cloud by day.

My Strong Tower, send the latter rain.

Lion of Judah,

Lord God, mighty in battle,

since You did it back then

we know You'll do it again." (Cece Winans)

first of all, i would like to make one thing quite clear. i never explain anything.

2009-09-14T23:22:00.016-05:00

Around a mouthful of Skittles (literally the entire bag resting within his cheeks), C2 asked of a Cartoon Network character's claim, “'I stand corrected.' Hey, what does that mean?” I told him. “But she’s sitting.” I told him in different words. He nodded.

After the Skittles were (eventually) swallowed and a knock on the door interrupted our air-conditioned peace, the daily game of neighborhood hide-and-seek kicked off. We walked down the sidewalk to face the babysitter from next door and her kiddo. C2 plopped down onto the grass and counted our feet, circled up, in order to decide who would be “It” first. Little B from next door groaned when his foot remained alone in the circle. C2 popped up and watched him. “Who are you going to get?”

“Her.” He pointed at me and started giggling. (Maybe I played incorrectly growing up, but we always checked for hiding spots in order to find people. In general. Vengeance was never sought after one in particular. Maybe I’m old. ) C2 snapped back, “You can’t go after one person.” B smiled.

Should we play in teams? C2 started moving. “No, but we’re going to beat y’all. We’re your minikins.” (Minikins? Minions?) As B crawled next to my car and called out numbers, the rest of us took off running. After a few minutes of sitting in a bush, scratched-up and bruised, I moved to the garage. I stood in the corner wiping off sweat and waited for sounds of tiny tennis shoes.

B sprinted up the driveway yelling, “I know you’re in there, Katie! You might as well come out!” (He totally peeked.) He ran into the garage and stopped, confused. I could have stretched out my arm and grabbed his red shirt, but he never turned his head to the right. Still, he threw his head up and with confidence shouted, “I saw you! I know where you are!” and hustled right back down the driveway.

After a few minutes, I crawled back through the bushes and crept towards base. He spun around and noticed me after I tagged it. “Where did you come from?” I can’t say. “Why not?” I’m hiding there next time. “That’s not fair.” Yes, it is. And you were right there. I could have touched you. “No way.”

We all walked back inside for water. C2 skipped to my side and asked where I hid. When I refused to tell him, he said I had to tell him. We headed back outside, and I told him that if we formed teams, I would take him to my hiding spot. He immediately ran ahead and said, “We’re on teams now. I’m with my babysitter, you [pointing at B] are with yours. C1’s on his own team.”

We split. I jogged to the garage with C2 close behind. Once in our station, C2’s breath matched mine, and for a moment, we truly became a team working for one purpose.

But then he got bored and left to meet B whose search had brought him close to our spot. C2 began jumping up and down, “I know where Katie is! I know where she is! Follow me!”

He proceeded to narrate my exact location. The utter glee in which he spoke simply echoed throughout the garage. United? I stand corrected.

“Starting from scratch, He made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find Him. He doesn't play hide-and-seek with us. He's not remote; He's near. We live and move in Him, can't get away from Him! One of your poets said it well: 'We're the God-created.' ” (Acts 17:24)

dudes ask, "why you chase Christ instead of status?"

2009-09-12T09:42:00.009-05:00

(Read the original article HERE. And if you would like music to read with the article, check out Trip Lee's Satisfaction (Hedonist) ... just 'cause.)

"One of the marks of our church is the aroma of Christian Hedonism. This is the biblical truth that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. The basis for this is deep, and the implications are as high as infinity and as long as eternity (both directions).

"One place to see the basis is Philippians 1:20-21, where Paul says his 'eager expectation and hope [is] that . . . Christ will . . . be honored in my body . . . by death. For to me . . . to die is gain.' His passion is that Christ be magnified in his death. Paul’s explanation is that for him 'death is gain.' The reason death is gain is that to die is 'to depart and be with Christ' (verse 23).

"Therefore, Paul believed that Christ is magnified by his being so satisfied in Christ that leaving everything else behind in death is not loss but gain. So he says in Philippians 3:8, 'I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.'

"So I conclude: Christ is most magnified in us when we are most satisfied in him—especially in suffering and death.

"...The implications of this are pervasive. One of the biggest implications is that we should, therefore, pursue our joy in God. Should! Not may. The main business of our hearts is maximizing our satisfaction in God. Not our satisfaction in his gifts, no matter how good, but in him. Here are eight biblical reasons to pursue your greatest and longest satisfaction in God.

1) We are commanded to pursue satisfaction.

Psalm 100:2: 'Serve the Lord with gladness!' Philippians 4:4: 'Rejoice in the Lord always.' Psalm 37:4: 'Delight yourself in the Lord.'

2) We are threatened if we don’t pursue satisfaction in God.

Deuteronomy 28:47-48: 'Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joyfulness and gladness of heart . . . therefore you shall serve your enemies.'

3) The nature of faith teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Hebrews 11:6: 'Without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.'

4) The nature of evil teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Jeremiah 2:12-13: 'Be appalled, O heavens, at this; be shocked, be utterly desolate, declares the Lord, for my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water.'

5) The nature of conversion teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Matthew 13:44: 'The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.'

6) The call for self-denial teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Mark 8:34-36: 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?'

7) The demand to love people teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Hebrews 12:2: 'For the joy that was set before him [Jesus] endured the cross.' Acts 20:35: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'

8) The demand to glorify God teaches the pursuit of satisfaction in God.

Philippians 1:20-21: 'It is my eager expectation and hope that . . . Christ will be [glorified] in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain (final and total satisfaction in him).'

"Therefore, I invite you to join George Mueller, the great prayer warrior and lover of orphans, in saying, 'I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was, to have my soul happy in the Lord.' In this way, we will be able to suffer the loss of all things in the sacrifices of love, and 'count it all joy.'"

- John Piper

boar-d? dis-grunt-led? (part three)

2009-09-11T22:22:00.004-05:00

"The reason some of us are such poor specimens of Christianity is because we have no Almighty Christ. We have Christian attributes and experiences, but there is no abandonment to Jesus Christ."

- Oswald Chambers

"Daily you must trust Me, surrendering everything, including the blood in your veins and the breath in your lungs, for Me to do with as I see fit. If you want to join up with Me, you must let Me lead." - Luke 9:23

boar-d? dis-grunt-led? (part two)

2009-09-10T20:26:00.006-05:00

I'm a little sleepy this evening, so I'll let some wise men speak (the words I'm currently, desperately trying to absorb) instead:

"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength." - Isaiah 30:15

"Patience is more than endurance. A saint's life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, and He stretches and strains, and every now and again the saint says - 'I cannot stand any more.' God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly. Trust yourself in God's hands. Maintain your relationship to Jesus Christ by the patience of faith. 'THough He slay me, yet will I wait for Him.'"

- Oswald Chambers

"Be still, and know that I am God." - Psalm 46:10

boar-d? dis-grunt-led?

2009-09-09T18:58:00.030-05:00

My family has futiley resisted cracking pig jokes since the media went berserk and began spamming the airwaves with news of the swine flu epidemic at the beginning of the summer. After so many (sooo many) puns, I knew someone in our family was bound to come down with the illness. (But trust me, it was almost worth it.) Right now, it appears three of us have been hit.

What causes swine flu?

Just kidding.

By the way, the Nanny Diaries should be back soon (hopefully tomorrow as previously scheduled); as of right now, this flu makes it hard to bring home the bacon.

(... I apologize. That last one was just bad.)

that's what I said, sir. go fly a kite!

2009-09-08T21:40:00.011-05:00

On happy days like this afternoon, watching C2 simply meander from point A (the bus stop) to point B (his front porch) is like watching an ADHD chipmunk in search of an acorn. He’s distracted by the teensiest sign of life, but every moment is a new adventure. No worrying about what happens tonight or tomorrow or in the future; but only questioning whether or not his grub worm farm will continue to prosper in the orange bucket, how a proper magic carpet should operate (with built-in wheels and hubcaps for land, obviously), and why my jeans have holes in them. The day-to-day is a chance to explore and experience the remarkably exciting.

My eight year old buddy displays this unexplainable freedom, literally flipping and somersaulting off couches. His life isn’t on hold as he waits for future plans to come to pass; he's not holding out for what should occur next week, next month, next year, next five years (if accepted, if called, if needed, if it works out). He breathes this air, at this time, right now: no ifs. I may be ten years older than C2, but the kid's the one reminding me what it means to really live.

"You've trusted Jesus with your life, now live that life in Him. Inhaling Him. Exhaling Him. Making Him your life-source each and every day with the faith of a little child! You were planted in the richest of soils and watered with the amazing Truth of His Kingdom. Don't hide the joy-filled life of Jesus beneath the soil, but grow and bloom for all the world to see." (Colossians 2:7)

from one pot to another

2009-09-05T20:32:00.006-05:00

"It is not the level of our spirituality that we can depend on. It is God and nothing less than God, for the work is God's and the call is God's and everything is summoned by Him and to His purposes, the whole scene, the whole mess, the whole package - our bravery and our cowardice, our love and our selfishness, our strengths and our weaknesses. The God who could take a murderer like Moses and an adulterer like David and a traitor like Peter and make of them strong servants of His is a God who can also redeem savage Indians, using as the instruments of His peace a conglomeration of sinners who sometimes look like heroes and sometimes like villains, for 'we are no better than pots of earthenware to contain this treasure [the revelation of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ], and this proves that such transcendent power does not come from us, but is God's alone'" (2 Corinthians 4:7)

- Elisabeth Elliot

"As we have a high old time..., may we who know Christ hear the cry of the damned as they hurtle headlong into the Christless night without ever a chance. May we be moved with compassion as our Lord was. May we shed tears of repentance for these we have failed to bring out of darkness. Beyond the smiling scenes of Bethlehem may we see the crushing agony of Golgotha. May God give us a new vision of His will concerning the lost and our responsibility."

- Nate Saint, Through Gates of Splendor

why do you always complicate things that are really quite simple?

2009-09-04T20:49:00.013-05:00

“Katie, do you have a Porsche?”

This was the greeting I received from a certain munchkin, as he wandered up the sidewalk. C2, turn around. He hopped around to stare at my car. I had anticipated a car question. Yesterday, as he left for a friend’s house, I secretly watched him walk around my car, peer in every window, and smash his nose to the glass (teensy smudges still appear with the morning sun).

“But do you have another car at home? Like… do you have a Porsche?” No, Sir, my other car is a bike.

His chin fell a little. He was disappointed for me. I tried not to giggle, as he absorbed the information, nodded, and continued into the house.

I don’t have a Porsche. I do have the unique powers of every Gormiti action figure memorized. (Magmion has a blade on his arm and a rock for a tail.) I do have the permanent mental visual of one tiny blonde kid tucked into a tree only to soar out of the branches and onto the shoulders of his terrified brother (with the sound effect which could only be described as possessed squirrel). I do have 4:13 this afternoon when the eight year old not only decided I could share the couch with him but also curled up next to me, so I wouldn’t miss a minute of his story.

“What did that guy mean? What’s 9 out of 10?”

Flipped upside down on the couch, C2 paused in the middle of his narration and tilted his head at the TV. He meant the group needed to have ten objects, but they were missing something.

“Why did they say that one guy had 10 out of 10?” He found the piece that was missing.

Right after C2 inspected the insides of my car yesterday afternoon, I took advantage of the quiet house and was struck by this:

“I walked out to the hill just now. It is exalting, delicious, to stand embraced by the shadows of a friendly tree with the wind tugging at your coattail and the heavens hailing your heart, to gaze and glory and give oneself again to God – what more could a man ask? Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on earth! I care not if I never raise my voice again for Him, if only I may love Him, please Him. Mayhap in mercy He shall give me a host of children that I may lead them through the vast star fields to explore His delicacies whose finger ends set them to burning. But if not, if only I may see Him, touch His garments, and smile into His eyes – ah then, not stars nor children shall matter, only Himself.

“O Jesus, Master and Center and End of all, how long before that Glory is thine which has so long waited Thee? Now there is no thought of Thee among men; then there shall be thought for nothing else. Now other men are praised; then none shall care for any other’s merits. Hasten, hasten, Glory of Heaven, take Thy crown, subdue Thy Kingdom, enthrall Thy creatures.” (Jim Elliot, Through Gates of Splendor)

He found the piece that was missing.

so when the cat has got your tongue, there's no need for dismay

2009-09-03T21:18:00.012-05:00

In the midst of an intense Sorry tournament (the board game, not a lesson in apologizing), C2 stood up and announced something was missing. He slapped my hand, and I obediently followed him up the stairs and past the pencil-sketched “Keep out!” sign, a piece of faded notebook paper Scotch-taped to the door. He marched onward into the room, painstakingly stepping over the perfectly arranged Bionicle men and Lego masterpieces carpeting the floor. He then brought out my new best friend.

Meet Rainbow. (Please note the hammock in the upper righthand corner. The lizard's got it good.)"Ya gotta wash your hands after, Katie. Rainbow will give you salmonella."

It didn't take long for the cats to join us. They pressed their noses against the glass and pawed at the cutie inside. The lizard would, in turn, puff out his beard and throw himself against the glass. It was intense. C2 rooted for the cats. I'm still for the little firecracker.

But really, y'all. If we had a showdown, who do you think would win? This gal?

Or this one?

I rest my case.

"Remember the last few verses of 1 Corinthians 3: 'For all things are yours... and ye are Christ's; and Christ is God's.' Throughout all our personality we are God's, and since God has made our whole selves, there is great joy in realizing who is our Creator. This realization is to permeate every area and level of life. In appreciation of beauty, mountains, music, poetry, knowledge, people, science - even in the tang of an apple - God is there, to reflect the joy of His presence in the believer who will realize God's purposes in all things." (Pete Fleming, Through Gates of Splendor)

you think. you wink. you do a double blink. you close your eyes... and jump

2009-09-02T22:58:00.012-05:00

I didn’t expect to be so fond of C1 and C2. I started watching them to assist their mom and to replenish what has disappeared from my college savings account. I didn’t expect to love the munchkins. Jesus said to, but when insults interrupt every conversation, sometimes you forget. (Jesus also said to not be surprised when the snubbing occurs, but those Scriptures sometimes fly out of my mind as well.)

We, C1+2 and I, met nine days ago, but experiencing intense vulnerability with another creates a sort of bond. The boys hit their daily low-point while we’re together. I am the first person they see after the long commute home after a relaxing seven hours in the public school system. Do you see where I’m going with this? Our eyes meet as they walk through the door: hunched, backpack covered shoulders; sad, hungry faces. Vulnerability. They couldn’t pick the definition out of 100, but it’s there.

We’ve connected. Yesterday, I drove down the street and saw a few scattered kids dilly-dallying to their houses. As I parked, I realized no one had waved to me because no one was left outside. Everyone already had their children, but the sidewalks in front of my house breathed silence.

I’ve never lost a child. Technically, I’ve never had a child to lose. In that moment, I threw my purse over my arm and clicked speed dial for my mother, a woman who, to my knowledge, never lost her kids. She calmly listened to me panic, as I nearly knocked down the closest neighbor’s door. No answer. I literally began running down the street; fear of great magnitude taking over. I couldn’t stop praying over what had happened to my little buddy. He wasn't half of my paycheck, but a crazy eight year old I loved.

A mom, loading her suburban, glanced up from her driveway and asked if I was C2’s babysitter. I cringed as pride kicked in to defend against the condescension floating my direction. I fought my ego as it whispered back, I actually arrived on time, but the bus showed up early. I’m not a horrible nanny; seriously, woman, stop looking at me like that. C2 stuck his head out of the lady's front door and grinned. “Hey Katie, I’m gonna play at T’s house today.”

They say the stress of motherhood and taking care of little ones uproots gray hair and extracts wrinkles. Mary Poppins must have had an excellent colorist.

we can’t have them gallivanting up there like kangaroos, can we?

2009-09-01T07:54:00.011-05:00

It starts like this: at five 'til three, I make the left turn into the neighborhood and wave to the sweet woman waiting for her grandson, weave around the parked cars in the cul-de-sac, and throw on the brakes in front of the orange brick two-story. The cats lounge on the windowsill above the door, peeking outside, their eyes following me as I vault out of the car with my phone (shoved from my purse to my shoulder to my ear, textbook in one hand, keys in the other,) shuffle to the front door, circle back around to my car and pick up the consistently forgotten notebook, spin around toward the back door because the front door is double-locked today, try to jump the wooden fence, regret the decision instantly, hug the dog, and walk inside.

Dumping my purse on the kitchen table, I slip off my shoes and jog up the stairs to make sure the bearded dragon is locked up this time, notice the bus creeping down the street, and fly downstairs, through the study, out the door. At the corner, three little boys leisurely climb down the bus steps and stop in a tight circle once they reach the bottom. They continue their trek down the street toward their respective houses with bent heads, happily plotting destruction. With a stance mirroring my own on the opposite side of the rounded road, another teenage girl awaits the arrival of her very own babysit-ee. C2, the younger of my kids, looks up and carefully examines me and the girl, who’s new to her job as of this afternoon. He studies the way we are positioned, a parallel reflected on opposite sides of the grass-covered median. He moves closer and yells, "Hey, look! Y'all are the same!" He pauses and checks out the two cars parked in front of our respective houses, "Except, Katie, her car is better. Yours is way cruddier." And so it begins.

He abandons his two partners-in-crime for air conditioning and wanders into the living room, talking about how his future car will be a convertible mustang with spinners and heated seats. Can I drive it? "No way, you'll wreck it." Will you drive me? He grins. "Maybe."

He finishes the conversation from the master bedroom and saunters back out with an Ace bandage trailing behind him. He plops down in front of Cartoon Network and narrates the events of his weekend; the highlight being a friend's birthday party at the local skate park where he sprained his leg. You hurt your ankle? “Nope, my leg. Can you help me wrap it?”

We then start to wrap. He holds the material in the middle of his thigh and spreads it to the base of his ankle. Because he sprained his leg. His whole leg. He wraps the first time, and I pin. The results are clearly not up to his standards, so he lets me try the process from the beginning. I wrap, he pins. He grips the safety pin and jabs it into the cloth… and yelps. Thankfully, the cloth serves not only as a sprained-leg-relief, but also as a means of stopping the flow of blood from the prick he didn’t see coming. We wrap again; he is annoyed because I leave wrinkles in the fabric and decides he’ll wait for his mom to do it right. Eleven attempts later, we’re set. He limps to gather his supplies, a loaded air-soft gun, and throws the weapon over his arm like a wounded soldier once again facing battle. Chin up, he waddles out of the house, decides it’s not yet time, removes the bandage, and skips into the kitchen.

I hear the microwave click on and start to buzz; I lean in to make sure nothing’s on fire but have already learned by trial and error that this eight year old can cook better than I can. The microwave runs for a long time. Too long. And when light smoke pours out of the microwave, and C2 delicately removes his cinnamon roll with tongs, I realize we have a problem. He sets it on the counter, and we watch the bread bounce. No, really, the pastry gets serious air. He hands me a knife to cut off the more-than-roasted bottom crust, and then jumps on my back to add to the weight needed to move the knife through the bread. The knife gets stuck in the roll, the kitchen reeks of burnt toast, the phone rings, and he collects his guns and retreats to the front yard.

I write all of this from underneath the tree C2 has scrambled up, gleefully yelling, “Hey Katie, I’m going to shoot the cat. I’ll aim for his whiskers, no wait, just the top of his fur. Watch THIS.” He hops down from the branches, as I rescue the cat and make it clear that if he even points his air-soft gun at me or the pets, he’ll stay in his room and do homework. “Katie, I don’t have homework.” Then you'll do mine. “Okay, deal.”

His older brother, C1, (plus four friends) emerges, dashing across yards. C2 ducks behind a pile of bricks. He thinks I can’t see him, so I look away when his head bobs up. He crawls out, stands up, and dives behind a tree, then repeats the process by plunging into a bush.

His mom pulls into the driveway with a rolled down window and asks where her boys are. I point to the plant with two sets of legs.

I start my car, as my little buddy leans against a tree. “I need a medic. I’ve been shot.”

His friend hears the words spoken and wastes not a minute, perking up and springing across the road, knees lifting higher with each stride. “I know CPR!”

“Good, it’s my leg.”

I cruise past them and honk; my injured one bounds up and stares at me, annoyed at my interruption. He then smiles and waves.

Until tomorrow.

faithful

2009-08-31T11:53:00.002-05:00

You understand it all

2009-08-29T21:34:00.008-05:00

"By realizing the reality of our Prince within us, we are never bothered again by the fact that we do not understand ourselves, or that other people do not understand us. The only One who truly understands me is the One who made me and who redeems me.... It is a tremendous freedom to get rid of every kind of self-consideration and learn to care about only one thing - the relationship between our Prince and ourselves."

- Oswald Chambers