Extremely Random Thoughts

• I do not fully understand Pinterest.
• I am glad that, because of my foot surgery, I can no longer wear heels. Never liked wearing them anyway.
• I don't waste time regretting anything. It is not productive. Just get busy.
• Here in Virginia, they are Lightning bugs.
• I do not like the new style of flat-billed baseball caps.
• I am ready for a major change.
• I am losing patience and gaining patience at the same time.
• I have no more time to waste on mean people.
• I fear having to choose between Nutella and ___________.
• Just tell the truth.
• I am totally addicted to Zillow.
• I wish someone in my family had a British accent so I could just listen to them talk.
• If I remember something that should have been on a list, I write it down so I can scratch it off.
• I have never had a pedicure. Never will.
• I still hold on to hope that I have not ridden a horse for the last time.
• Not all old people are wise.
• All my life I have tried to like eggnog. I have tried it for the last time. It had its chance.
• I have grown tired of the internet.
• Biggest pet peeve: being interrupted.
• There are some things that I am so passionate about that I cannot even talk about it.
• Now, on a bad day, I can say, "Well at least I don't have a rod in my foot."
• I am a history nerd.
• It's not just what you say, it's how you say it. (whole blog on this coming soon)
• Puppies are the best.
• Also horses.
• The threat of having to be on the ground being handcuffed is enough of a deterrent to me. Have you actually looked in a gutter? Oh so gross.
• Stop trying to please people and just please God.
• Think--THINK-- before you speak.
• Everyone has issues. You are not alone and they are not perfect.
• I am a loyal friend.
• I am so patriotic it can cause me physical pain.
• I am a Virginian.
• I am always speechless at the first glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

And with that vision in mind I will end for now. Whoever you are, wherever you are, may God bless you by meeting your every need and may He show you His love right now. He is waiting for you to draw near.

Reflections after seven weeks on a sofa...

Part 1- Blessings

• I have so much to be thankful for. My life, here and later. My constant companion, Jesus. My husband. My family. My friends. My foot's progress.
• Air-conditioning. Oh my gracious- I cannot imagine this without it. In the early days/weeks, my body temp would go from cold to hot in a second. Freeze, burn up. Repeat. Thank you Lord for a cool home. And limited power outages. Summertime in Coastal Virginia. You never know.
• Friends who cook. No kidding, the first weeks when I couldn't really be thinking about how to organize food for three men, my friends showed up. With MEALS. Not just easy stuff- I'm talking The Real Deal. New definition of Comfort Food.
• Modern. Day. Medicine. Nerve blocks, pain medication, alternatives to medications that do not work, Benadryl (for when you become allergic to the fancy paper gown they make you wear for the surgery). Anesthesia. Oxygen. Antibiotic that you are NOT allergic to. All of it. Every bit. Good stuff, the stuff we have these days.
• Netflix. Pain meds tend to blur your vision. Big TVs compensate for that and offer you endless British dramas and series. Steady on.

Part 2- Things to have on hand if you ever have foot surgery

• The walker bag ( if you use a walker) This invention was already sweet because it was a gift from a dear friend, and sweeter because it was made by her aunt who is now with the Lord, but y'all I cannot possibly say all the words needed to tell you how much easier this made my life! Things in there right now: tissues, lip gloss, jewelry (b/c I want it on to make me feel normal but then it gets on my nerves), hair brush, crackers, hand sanitizer. More stuff that I am too embarrassed to tell you about. I stuff my phone into its pocket when I go from room to room just in case I fall and have to call for help. I am nothing if not realistic. In the morning it holds magazines or books; by lunchtime it becomes a picnic basket. I slide my cup into it when I go to the kitchen. While there I load it with the yogurt or the cookies or the apple. Yes, I slid cookies in there. Don't judge until you've hobbled a mile on my walker. See what I did there? 

 But honestly this thing is a must-have item.

• The shower chair. Didn't know if/when I would need it but Divine Intervention led me to it at Bed Bath and Beyond. It was the best $35 investment I made in a long time. I use it to get in and out of the house because crutches=instant death. I use it at the top of the stairs to initiate descent and landing. Oh, yeah, and I use it for what it is actually intended for. I'm thinking of keeping it around because it's just been so helpful. I am not graceful; I cannot be too prepared.
• The Bible. Print, apps, online. Have them all. You will reach for them often. Amen.
• Soft pillows. Lots of them.
• Freshening wipes. Preferably cold.
• Hand sanitizer. Not only for your hands but for the walker grips. Ew.
• A good cross-body bag. I am using one from Blue Avocado. It's made from recycled t-shirts by previously impoverished and exploited women. I may be down, but I can still do my part. Here's the link: http://www.blueavocado.org/
• And if your little girl ever shows an interest in gymnastics or dance-- feed that! Sign her up! And while you are sitting and waiting for her to finish yet another practice/performance/recital, know that one day if she has foot surgery she will whisper thanks while washing her hands, brushing her teeth, and getting dressed. The skill of balancing on one leg for an inordinate length of time will become invaluable. Friends, flamingoes have nothing on me at this point.

I got this.

Part 3- Lessons Learned

• Rely on God. He is your strength. Philippians 4:13 has never been more true in my life. He is my "Walker." I lean on Him when I rise and when I rest. He is my Firm Foundation. He is my Rock. He is my source of peace and discernment. Draw near, friend.
• Do not underestimate yourself. Refer to above. Literally and figuratively.
• You will become stronger. Not just spiritually, I mean. Being non-weight bearing means that something is going to be bearing the weight, just not that foot. So, it's a choice between your good foot and your arms. Basically, you need to be prepared to lift yourself every time you take a step. Yeah. Good for the carpal tunnel issue. Ha! Not really.
• This changed me. This hiatus, I mean. People had said to me "Well, maybe this will help you slow down a little." Are you kidding me?? I didn't SLOW DOWN, I flat-out STOPPED. In my Sketchers at 5:30 AM and on the sofa by 1:30 PM. For the next month and a half. That does weird things to you, when you are used to going ANYWHERE YOU WANT ALL THE TIME. Now I understand how the monks feel when they are silent. No, I'm not alone all the time or silent all the time, but there is an element of solitude to life when you are limited. I thought I would become stir-crazy. I thought I would be anxious and edgy and impatient. And there are times when I have felt that way. But there is a greater sense of...calm. A peace. I see all the things happening around me and I...observe. The recent series of Big Storms that we have had greatly affected me. Dark skies, gusty winds, hail and sharp lightning are reasons for caution. Now greet them in a room alone with your walker as your only means of immediate escape. Tends to make a person become more introspective.

        James tells us to be "slow to speak" and I know I will. But I will also be

       less reluctant. I am more concerned with things like truth. Kindness. Joy.

Part 4- Things to Do

• Follow instructions. Not only from your doctor, but from those you love and who love you.
• Take your pain medication. Don't worry about becoming addicted. You won't need it that long and it will help you rest and not drive everyone around you insane.
• Ask for help. I am so bad at this. At least I was. Not now.
• Be honest. If it hurts, say so. If you want to have quiet, ask for it. No one minds. If they do, they are able to get up and go to another place; you can't, therefore you win for now.
• Gather all the comfy clothes and prepare to wear them for a long time. It's not a fashion show--it's time to be relaxed.
• Blog.
• Pray. Pray for your own healing. Pray for those who are caring for you. Just spend time with the Father because you need to and He wants it. Take prayer requests; nothing helps you heal more than focusing on the needs of others.

Part 5- Things Not to Do

• Don't use lotion on your hands before you need to use the walker.  
• Don't use the walker on a wet floor.

Some of these things I know first-hand; others I just think are logical conclusions. You can decide which is which.



• Don't try to rush things.
• Don't take yourself too seriously. You will be reduced to needing help with almost everything. Hear me again, ALMOST EVERYTHING. Remember, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." Proverbs 16:18 (KJV) The last thing you need is destruction or a fall.

So as my week comes to a close and I anticipate my next doctor's appointment, I am hopeful that I will get the green light on Partial Weight Bearing. That term concerns me a bit, since I am not really a "partial" kind of person.

As one friend put it when I voiced my concerns to her: "Ya don't say."

I mean, tell me to sit and I'll sit. Tell me to get up and I'm up. But partial?? 

YouTube isn't a whole lot of help either. Seems everyone understands the application of this but me. I know, I just KNOW, that I am going to put all the weight on this thing. But if I do I'll remember that there is One Who wants, even desires all of my burdens. All of the things that weigh me down.

Matthew 11:28-30

²⁸ “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. ³⁰ For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

When I lean on Jesus, He always holds me up.



Two Blogs Merged at a Point of Forgiveness

Old Wounds

I broke my toe two years ago. Actually, it was Election Day, 2012, to be exact. I know this because, not only was it Election Day, it was the day before I was to leave for Nashville to attend the Lifeway Women's Forum. Crashing into a suitcase in the wee hours of the morning turned into a bit of an inconvenience. After dragging my foot around town in search of a boot, then to the doctor for x-rays, then to be fitted for the by then much-needed boot, (somehow managing to squeeze in standing in line to vote) then back to the podiatrist for a deeper inspection of the multiple breaks, I headed home and limped my way to Nashville the next day. You see, I was determined. I was not going to let the injury keep me from the blessings that were waiting for me in this gathering of Christian women from all over the country. The injury would not prevail-- the glory would be given to the Lord for the ability to...go. In hindsight, I probably should have stayed home. And healed. I was injured.

As time marched on, or in my case, limped, the toe and foot began to give me...issues. Pain and such. It continued to swell, to ache, and it caused me to change the way I walk. Having kept the boot, I dug it out a few months ago and reluctantly eased into it. I didn't want to wear it. It was like taking a step backward. Admitting defeat. Opening an old wound. Here we go again.

The boot and the pampering didn't work. As much as I wanted to avoid it, I needed to take action. But it would mean multiple processes applied to my foot-- breaking bones, inserting metal pieces and parts, A ROD STICKING OUT OF IT! Did you hear me?? A ROD!

There are certain things that you see in life that Other People have to endure. Some are things that you know you could handle easily. Others leave you wondering. Then there are those things that make you cringe. The things that make you whisper a prayer asking the Lord to never let you go through because you know, you just KNOW that you will throw up the minute you have to see it.
That's how I am about rods sticking out of conscious people. I am so very sorry that they are having to go through this and so sad that they had whatever accident has led to this and so scared that I would bump into them if I even got close and so many other things that I don't even know because every time I see them I avoid eye contact because Ow and it's A LONG PIECE OF METAL COMING OUT OF THEM. So you can imagine my reaction when the surgeon told me that I would have to have one. The very thing. The grossest. I know I must have shocked him (big understatement) when I freaked out recoiled the way I did. He had no idea. None. He knows now. (now I worry when that ad about the lawsuit for some device called the "bladder sling" comes on; doesn't it make you just cringe?)

So here I am six weeks later. Six weeks. SIX. I know I have been not been easy to live with. Oh, I admit that right off the bat. I'd rather admit it first before anyone who has had to put up with me does. I beat them to it! But I have tried my best to be a good patient. I have done everything the doctor told me to do. I have not put even a little bit of pressure on this poor foot. Who would want to? It hurt like crazy! I took pain meds when I needed them and stopped taking them when I didn't need them any more. I elevated it (the real kind of elevation--above my heart) so that I would minimize swelling, and even though I really really wanted to ice it I didn't because I was told I was a risk for frostbite. What? Ok, whatever. I trust you. And I did ice it once I was allowed. I did what I was told. Ok. One thing. I took the splint off at night. There. Honesty. Why did I take the splint off, you ask? Velcro. Across the scars. You try to sleep. No more explanation necessary.

In all of this recovery I have received the Best Care. The very best. I can't say enough wonderful things about my sweet, patient, caring, amazing husband. He has had to see me sad and scared and weak and frustrated more in the past six weeks than in all 30 years combined. Only God has seen me like that before. Only God gave him the strength and patience to endure...me. The rod is out (according to the surgeon, the removal procedure was uncomfortable.) Yeah. I am now counting the days until my next appointment where I will possibly be allowed to begin to bear some weight on my foot. I know it will hurt. I know it will probably cause more swelling. But it will be necessary, much like addressing the old wounds. But this time, I am allowing them to heal properly.

Life is never without trauma. We endure pain and disappointment and hurt from the time we are born because we are not perfect and we are living in an imperfect world. This isn't heaven. Hear me again, I'll say it to you like you are mine:

 

THIS ISN'T HEAVEN.

We are going to have pain. There are going to be wounds. And sometimes the wounds don't heal well. Sometimes it's because we keep them from healing. We don't follow doctors orders or we don't follow Jesus' instruction and offer the other cheek. (Matthew 5:39) Sometimes it's because others won't let our wounds heal. When an old wound is opened up it reminds us of the past hurt. The ache becomes fresh and almost worse than the original offense, for it is a reminder of all we went through as well as the fact that-

 here we are again.

 

Still not healed. But we can heal, if we allow the power of the Living God to let us.

To keep perpetuating the pain of old wounds is to take the healing power away from the Lord and take it upon ourselves to control it. And when we do that, we always mess things up. Folks, seek Him first. In all things. When you do that you are led to places you cannot find on your own. You will find forgiveness, grace, mercy, and the clarity that only He can fill you with. His love will consume all the voids in your heart. You will not have room for the pain.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a choice. It's a choice we all face at some point in our lives, some of us more than others. I have been told that I am a very forgiving person. I should be. Not only have I had to do a lot of it in my life, I've also had to ask for forgiveness more often than I wish.  

One insight into forgiveness that I have learned is that we don't have to wait until we feel like forgiving in order to forgive. In fact, if we wait until we "feel" like it, we're probably in for a long wait. Forgiveness requires conscious thought and action. It necessitates that the  wounded party act upon the choice that was made, in this case to forgive. If you only say that you forgive someone, it's empty and hollow. You must follow through on your decision.

The more you leave emotions out of forgiveness, the better. Your emotions will tell you to stand your ground and wait until an apology is offered and, even then, not to give in. The enemy wants you to think that forgiving someone is a sign of weakness, losing the battle; the real battle is with the enemy!

For the Christian, forgiveness must occur. Like love, it is not an option.
"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." Ephesians 4:32NIV  I have several Bibles in many translations and none of them say "when you feel like it." Believe me, I've searched.

Nor should we force ourselves to say the words, "I forgive you." It's like forcing an apology. Unless it is true and heartfelt, it is meaningless. So what does forgiveness really mean? And do we have to "forgive and forget?"

I don't think we have the capability to forgive and forget. Not in the way most people interpret it. Only Jesus does that. Psalm 103:12 tells us that, through the mercy of our Redeemer, our confessed sins are cast as far as the east is from the west. He can do that. He's God. What we can do is ask Him to help us to be like that. We can beg Him to release us from the pain that makes us pick up where we left off when we are confronted with something that reminds us of the hurt. We have to rely on His strength to keep us from bringing up the past. And He will. Because He's God.

Conversely, when you encounter someone who is hurting, you need to validate their heartache. Often you have no idea what has led them to this point. None. Only the Lord knows their heart like only He knows yours. Therefore you must be as kind and as loving and as forgiving as you would want them to be to you.

 

Do unto others...

 

 

 

Or you could just delete them. Or hide their posts. Or unfriend them. After all, they're not saying what you want them to say. They don't agree with you. So, why bother? If they can't see fit to agree with you, then just eliminate them from your electronic life. There. One click and you are free from a differing opinion. No time for that in your tidy little life. Now everything is just fine. And they are as far from you as the east is from the west. And so is their hurting heart.

 

Aren't you glad He doesn't unfriend us?

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Gospel According to HGTV

I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted!

In the past three weeks I have flipped houses, salvaged barn doors, purchased real estate in Curacao, and refurbished a burned-out Victorian house in Minnesota. Not to mention perfecting the poached egg, learning everything I didn't know that I needed to know about food trucks across the country, and challenging Bobby Flay in Iron Chef America. I have saved restaurants from certain closure and hung on until the final round of Chopped! I feel so...empowered!

It is now three weeks and one day since my foot surgery. The first week was a blur. The second week was spent getting used to navigating the walker and adjusting to life on my blue-striped island in the family room. But the third week, well now that has been spent visiting with friends, dining on their food, (I am so blessed that I have friends who can cook, I mean these ladies can COOK!) and surfing the web and the networks.

Since most daytime tv is created, I am sure, for people waiting to check in with their parole officer, I have relied mostly on silence. Honestly, that's my favorite sound. I am a HUGE "Be still and know" (Psalm 46:10) fan. I love the peace that silence brings. The clarity that waits between ticks of the clock and the slow, low melody of the wind chimes on the back porch. God speaks volumes to me during these times and I covet them when I am doing my usual "running around." But sometimes the silence is a little too loud. Especially when your brain needs to be distracted from thinking about your foot. So enter channel 229 on your DirecTv remote and hallelujah! Background noise that you can almost always glance up at and not be repulsed!

Between HGTV, diy, and the Food, and Cooking channels, I have no loss for projects, ideas, and inspiration. I am ready to hit the flea markets for old, beat-up bookcases and stop by Home Depot on the way home for a can of miracle spray paint. While I'm out I'll go by the store for a list of mystery ingredients and come home and prepare the BEST MEAL EVER. And as for one of those "fixer-uppers" I pass on the way- I'm going to gut it, restore all the woodwork to its former glory, and rent it for a ridiculous sum of money to a family that can't decide whether to Love it or List It. Why? Because these people whom I do not know have told me that I can!

After watching these shows I am firmly convinced that, if they can do it, I can do it. After all, we are all human, right? We own power tools. We have access to Home Depot and Lowes. I own both sharp knives and a whisk. Why can't I conquer the afternoon with a few projects and dinner. Served on trendy plates. I watch, I take notes, I nod in approval. Then I get up, employ my walker into the kitchen, and see myself in the reflection of the mirror in my still unfinished bathroom. Oh yeah. I'm still me. I still can't decide on the light fixture I want. After two years.

If I lived on one of these shows I'd hop into my beat-up pickup truck and go to the local salvage store and get one for $35 that is old and has character and fair wiring. I'd get home and know which breaker to shut off and get it all spiffy-looking and hang it and be pleased. But I don't live on a show, I live in the real world. And so do we all. They make it look so easy.

Of course, my blog wouldn't be my blog without tying this in to my Christian walk. My faith. My life. So I go the step further and wonder if I make life look too easy for my non-Christian friends. Do I make it look like, because I believe and know that I will join my Savior in heaven one day and that my sins are forgiven and that I have the power of the Holy Spirit living in me, that my life is as easy as a crème brulee prepared in a convection oven in Gordon Ramsay's kitchen?

Was my salvation experience like flipping a house? Out with the old, in with the new. My value increased just because my self decreased? Easy as that? Have I made being a follower of the only One sent to live a sinless life, die on a cross in substitution for my sins, rise from the dead, appear to multitudes, and ascend into heaven and promise to return to us to join with us for eternity--have I made that sound too easy? Have I made it look too easy?

Oh- have I been guilty of falsely inspiring people and leading them to believe that life would be a bed of roses and that they would never need to be weeded, would never thirst, and would never wither?

I want to live life to the fullest, but I also want to be real. I want to show that I am weak and vulnerable and subject to all of the things that everyone else is subject to and I do not have all the answers; I just have one answer and that is Jesus. (John 14:6)

Please, Lord, let my flaws be examples of your love and forgiveness. Let people see the imperfections in me like the ones in the old wood in the Victorian home. And let me lead them to the only One Who can fully restore, fully rehabilitate, and always make new. And let us all know the difference between reality tv and reality.

So in my last entry I warned that I am " a little on edge." Truth be told, I am a lot on edge.

I have never been one of those "emotional people." I learned how to build walls at an early age and I've become pretty good at it. I'm not bragging; that's nothing to brag about. It's weird when other people cry at movies or songs or Folger's commercials and you are the one wondering about the staging or the marketing concept behind a young man returning from college and fairly-well breaking and entering and no one hearing him except the baby sister. These people must sleep like rocks. And what about the dog? Not even a woof. Oh yes, you remind yourself, I'm supposed to be misty-eyed right now and rushing to the kitchen for a cup of emotion.

Can I add that, along with a degree in Personal Masonry, I minored in Sarcasm and Cynicism?

Long ago a good friend (who is much like me when it comes to All Things Emotional) and I went to see "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." I said it was a long time ago. Don't ask me why we went; it was the '70s and if that's all I have to regret I'm doing pretty well. (Instead ask why they had to make a movie with the Bee Gees in the first place.) There was a scene in the movie where the obligatory love interest had died and they were having the funeral. Complete with the coffin scene. A glass coffin. Peter Frampton singing to Strawberry Fields. And she's a girl and she's in a glass coffin. I am not lying. Look it up on imdb . I did, to make sure I was remembering correctly. As they picked up the coffin and the inappropriate music swelled, my friend and I both noticed that the actress's head slid, ever so slightly, to the end of the coffin. That was all it took. We didn't even need to discuss it. We didn't need to look at each other to know we had seen it. So in the middle of the theater, surrounded by overly-emotional teenage girls, we began to laugh. We could not stop. You couldn't have stopped us if you had tried, and a few people did. (By the way, "shushing" people only makes them laugh more.) If you are reading this and if you were in that theater, I still do NOT apologize. It was a stupid scene with bad actors and, for heaven's sake, a glass coffin.

So to find myself becoming teary-eyed lately has left me shocked, curious, and a little annoyed. What in the world is happening to me? I would blame it on the pain meds or just the pain: after all, it's as though someone took a ball peen hammer to my foot, then wrapped it in scratchy gauze and an ace wrap and then kept hitting it and sticking it with pins. Yeah, there's pain. But no, I was getting this way about a week before the surgery.

I remember driving through the Poconos with my husband last month, and not being able to take a whole breath because the Brooklyn Tab choir (pumping through my husband's new speakers) was singing like it was already in heaven. I was overcome with joy and love and gratitude and all of the emotions and all I wanted to do was...cry.

It was at that moment that I started thinking about the things that do touch me. The moments that Break Through. So here they are. The stuff that causes Darth Vader to choke up. That makes Clint Eastwood blink. And wipe his eyes. They may mean nothing to you, but they do to me. Feel free to add your own "joys" in the comments. Open up. Let's see where this goes...

(these are most certainly not in any particular order; so don't judge me if some "salvation subject" is listed under "watching kittens play." Just an example)

1. Birds Yes, birds. Most everything about them. But mostly the fact that, when God made them, He could have just stopped with making one. Or for that matter He didn't even have to make one. But He did and then He made more, in different colors, shapes, sizes and to do different things. Then He gave them SONGS! Of all things- I mean they already have feathers and they can fly, but they also can...SING! And don't they just sing their little hearts out? Of course they do. Maybe they are thanking Him for letting them sing. I know I am.

2. Flowers For basically the same reason as the birds. No, not the song. I'm not on that much medicine. I mean the vast, immeasurable variety of flowers and plants that God filled this soil with. Stop and think about it because you should- He made them all and so different and so beautiful...just because He could. If that doesn't make you grateful, dear heart, you are not reading this in the way it was intended and you're not thinking of Him the way He wants you to.
Jesus Himself said that, unless we saw signs and wonders, we would never believe. (John 4:48) So here we are. Surrounded by signs and wonders, yet we overlook them. Don't overlook them- take a moment (or the rest of your life) and give God the attention that He deserves.

3. Mountains I grew up in a coastal area. Some of my earliest memories are of going to the beach. As soon as I was able to drive myself, I spent as much time at the beach as possible. But not because I loved it. I mean, it's beautiful and I appreciate God's handiwork and His might and the power of His hand in creating something as huge as the Atlantic Ocean (as well as the others), but it does not cause me to...well up inside. The beach was just the Thing to Do.  But the mountains. I cannot even grasp what happens to my heart when I am in the mountains. Even the first glimpse of the first rise and my eyes begin to fill up with the tears like the tears you get when you see a good friend after a long, long time. I think of His hand guiding and perfecting the ridges and the valleys and the peaks. I stare and try to grasp the courage of my ancestors pulling and tugging and dragging their heavy loads of meager belongings through these hills to eke out their living and their livelihood while trying to survive. No matter the season. No matter the weather or the view-- they are one of the few things on earth that I have trouble grasping that I am worthy of looking upon. One day I will see mountains through clear eyes, but for now, my eyes are always filled with tears.

Finally I am moving away from nature before I have to have some oxygen delivered to this house.

4. Prayer  I'm not really referring to my own prayers right now; I'm talking about the prayers of others. I've spoken about this before. The kind of prayer that...hushes you. The kind where you know that the person is revealing the way they converse with the God of all. The very One Who created everything is listening and speaking back to this person and you are blessed enough to hear it and to come alongside and join in it. It is personal and private and precious. And then one step further, that puts me over the edge, is when it is done on my behalf. The very thought that someone would take the most valued private time with our Savior and use that time to utter my name to Him is the most humbling feeling that comes into my heart. I am never ungrateful and never untouched by that. Hopefully I am never unchanged by it, either.

5. America  I am about as patriotic as you can get. I love American history. I love being a native Virginian. And again, I mean I love it to the point of tears when I stand on the lawn in front of George Wythe's house. When I sing the National Anthem. When I put out our flag. My husband and I may not have met but for the fact that both of our fathers stayed here in this area after having been stationed here during WWII. We may not have married were it not for the fact that we passed each other's Favorite President Test while dating. Yes, it was and still is THAT important. Never mind how many kids you think you'll want or if you like to go to the movies or if you leave the toothpaste cap off...who was your favorite president and why and what part of the Revolution was the turning point for you and for goodness sake please don't say that Plymouth had the first Thanksgiving or I will have to get out of the car right now!!! Yep. This country and all it stood for and what it still tries to stand for will bring me to tears every. single. time. And I am proud of it.

6. Goodbyes  I am horrible at goodbyes. I do not do it well, I do not do it pretty, so I avoid doing it at all costs. I am so bad at goodbyes that I want no more pets. Not even a goldfish. I dread the times that I know that friends are moving and I try (and now the secret is out) to plan something that will make it impossible for me to attend the farewell. I cry and become overwhelmed and cry more and look awful and never, ever, say the things I want to say because I can't get the words out because I am crying. I would much rather write the note and leave it on the gift table before the party. And slip away and cry like a baby because I just can't bear the thought.

7. Answered Prayer  Totally different from the Prayer entry, this is a thing all its own. If you have ever prayed for something specific, then seen that specific prayer answered, you, my friend,  have witnessed a miracle. For it is something only God can do. But this miracle isn't rare. My God answers prayer. All the time. We just need to see His hand in the answer. Sometime it matches up with what we are praying for; sometime it doesn't. But what it always does is right and good and will have everlasting effects. So to have joined with God and to have seen this thing through and to see Him work in a situation...to have been Part of It. No words. Only emotion.

8. Seeing the Holy Spirit Move  For my friends who may read this who are not Christian, obviously this is one that is hard to understand. But it happens. And if you know me well enough to be reading this, you know me well enough to trust me. It happened just yesterday, as a matter of fact. I was covered with  grace during an unexpected moment and I was able to conduct myself with that grace and dignity and come out on the other side of it stronger and closer than ever to the Lord Who was with me in the storm. There was a moment yesterday when I experienced the God of the Universe working in my life. In a huge way. In every detail. And that moved me to tears and I am so glad it did.

9. Really Good Music I mentioned the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir earlier. I have to mention them again, as well as many Christian and secular artists. I can be moved to tears by a piece by Mozart or Mannheim Steamroller. I am not going to name all of the artists; there is no need. Just know that both Chris Tomlin and Billy Joel are responsible for my having to keep tissues in my car.

So there you have them. No particular order. Stopped at nine because that's where my thoughts stopped- not forcing a Top Ten or anything like that. Sure, there are other things that, from time to time, will cause me to become a little verklempt, but for the most part these are the things that make my heart fill up and pour out. I would love to know yours.

Don't mess with me right now. I'm a little on edge.

Frankentoe has now become Frankenfoot. I had surgery June 4 to repair, realign, shorten, you name it. Years of pointing my toe in order to reach the gas pedal (you tall people have no idea what I'm talking about) combined with at least a couple of poorly-healed breaks led to some nerve damage that could no longer be ignored. That plus the fact that I had a toe whose bruising caused me to have to change my polish color to purple to match the constant hue of the nail and one that had to be encased in a nylon sheath every time it was stuffed into a shoe. Yeah, my right foot was, as one medical professional put it: "A hot mess."

So now I am looking at several weeks of not putting any weight on it at all. Several weeks of being extremely dependent on others for...most everything.
Ask me which is bothering me more: enduring pain or being a pain? I'll let you answer that.

"But God is faithful. He will not let you be tempted (in this case, tempted to scream 'I have to get up right now and go drive somewhere and get a shower and carry my own coffee!!') beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted He will also provide a way out (in this case the WHOLE INTERNET) so that you can stand up (or lie down) under it." 1 Corinthians 10:13b

And so, those of you who choose to read my mind online, get ready for a few weeks of reflections, opinions, and laughter. It's my hope that as I share my experiences with you, you will become more aware of the work of the Lord in your life, as I am becoming increasingly aware of His work in mine.

 

 A combination of too much time on my hands, denial that I am really using a walker, and the fact that I never can be satisfied with things that are too generic, led me to decorate my walker. A late Baby Boomer version of Pimp my Ride. There were several ways I could have gone with it, but the style that won out was a cross between Breakfast at Tiffany's and Breakfast at Cracker Barrel. I bought black duct tape and adhesive-backed rhinestones. Then I got busy. The result did exactly what I wanted: it drew attention away from the fact that I am using an appliance for assistance and it made me smile. Hopefully others would smile too.  There was one area that I couldn't really mess with though; a series of hinges which allowed my Sweet Ride to collapse, and the stickers that warned me of eminent danger if I didn't follow directions. Yes, I considered a big old plastic diamond right smack in the middle, but then I thought, "what if it collapses and the insurance company fights my bills because of a plastic diamond?" So the sticker stayed. A week into using the walker I began to think about the wording on the warning label and the way I interpret it.

 

 

As most Church Women, I have taught preschool. Yes, I wear that as a Badge of Honor, because nothing is more intimidating than a group of 3 year olds. Wide eyes, short attention spans, and never-ending curiosity all wrapped up in an adorable 33 pound bundle. As simultaneously precious and scary as a baby leopard, you do not want to let them have the upper hand, mostly because they are covered with fuzz, jelly, play-doh, and dirt.

 

Because these precious tiny hands are constantly moving, I always prepared my kids for prayer by teaching them to close their eyes, put their hands together in their lap, and bow their heads. I tried to eliminate as many distractions as possible so that they could focus on the God that is never distracted from us. I suppose I was ensuring that they were "locked and in place."

 

I would begin to lead then in prayer in a soft, gentle voice, all the time aware of squirms, wiggles, and the occasional "just get up and walk around and play with trucks and kick things." After all, they're three year-olds!!!

 

But what about us? Oh, reader, I am right smack in the middle of being prayed for right now by some of the best. I mean THE BEST. Real prayer warriors if there ever were some. I know these people and I know their hearts and I have been in their company when they pray and they lift up prayers that are the kind that make you a little embarrassed, because it's like you're eavesdropping on a conversation between them and God. Because you are.

 

So again I ask: What about us? How focused are we when we approach the Throne of Grace? Billy Graham once said, "It's not the body's posture, but the heart's attitude that counts when we pray." I know, Rev. Graham. I know.

 

I do now.

 

The little one who was up and about and so active was listening to everything I said and sharing his own precious heart. (The others were probably focused on their own fuzzy, sticky fingers) We can be on our knees or in our car or washing dishes and bring our deepest concerns before our God because He only requires our focus, our hearts, to be locked on Him. We add the casual, "I'll pray for you" or click "like" on Facebook and add "Praying" in the comments and go back to looking at our friend's new puppy pictures. Did we pray? Did we? I mean, PRAY?

 

And then there's the corporate prayer. When we join together as one before the Lord and lift our collective hearts to Him. The Bride of Christ petitioning for His church. How amazing. Unless we are digging through our purse for a mint. Or planning our strategy out of the parking lot and to the restaurant. Or still holding on to bitterness that has no room for grace. Are our prayers focused toward the One we pray to or to the ones who hear us? Are they God-seeking or self-serving? Are they filled with grace and humility? Or are they uttered with an attitude of anger? Be real. But be real with respect. And for the right reasons. And make sure you are locked in and focused, or everything will collapse around you.

 

 

There are two other little stickers, one in each corner, that read "PUSH TO RELEASE." Remember, I told you I'm a little on edge.

 

All it takes is a little push...

 

 

 

 





When God's People Hurt...Each Other

Pain. It's something we are all familiar with to some extent. From paper cuts to broken toes to childbirth or kidney stones-- when something hurts we don't like it and we want it to stop. Now, in hospitals and doctor's offices all across the land there is this "pain chart." Sort of a timeline concept. They ask you to rate the level of your pain on the "timeline" with one end, the 0, being a happy face and the end, the 10, being all red and crying and sad. "That should just about sum it up," someone said in a board meeting. "Zero to ten and happy vs. sad. Next: let's rate hospital food from 'mildly disgusting' to 'put the cover back on the tray before I puke.'"

 

I TOTALLY understand why this chart is needed. When the medical professional needs to know how bad you are hurting, you can look at this chart through your tears and point with the unbroken hand at the "HURTS WHOLE LOT" face and he or she can know that you need the Big Pain Meds. And a cookie.

I can never really rely on myself and my own judgment with that pain chart though. For one thing, I can actually handle a lot of pain. I have a few things wrong that cause me to hurt. Most of the time. Another reason it's hard for me is that I know there always has to be some pain out there somewhere that is worse than what I am experiencing right now, so therefore I at least have to reserve 10 for that. Like if I were to lose a limb or be burned or something. Right there would be the 10. So my foot issue is about a 2 compared to that. Until the doctor looks at it and tells me that I should have had surgery 15 years ago.
Applying my pain to a laminated chart of smileys is just a throw of the dice.

Pain is relative. If it hurts and is only pain, then I'm good. I can put it in its cubbyhole of nagging and annoying and keep going. But when it's pain that is not physical; when it comes from deep within and is the kind of pain that brings grief and anguish, I tend to get serious about it.

I have found, in my time here on the planet, that Christians tend to handle emotional pain fairly well. We have a way of putting things in perspective, for we know our time here is temporary and that something more wonderful than we can imagine awaits us. So how bad can it be? Romans 8:31 reminds us that "If God is for us, then who can stand against us?" And when Chris Tomlin tells me that "the God of angel armies is always on my side" I fairly well rejoice myself right out of the car! I want to play that when I'm cut off while driving. Play it when I am having to interrupt the oh-so-important conversation between the eye-rolling teenage girls at Starbucks in order to get them to make me an over-priced iced tea. Play it loud and clear for those who talk about me behind my back. Kind of like a lingering perfume that wafts gently over to them and intrudes on their whispers long enough to help them remember that Jesus is listening and His angel army is on my side. Then maybe they sneeze.

Yes, we Christians know we will be talked about. Laughed at. Persecuted. The Bible warns us and promises us a blessing: "Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me." (Matthew 5:11) We stand ready for that. What we aren't ready for, what we are always surprised at, is when it comes from our sisters and brothers. Yes, they are human and they sin.

But they know better.

We know it's wrong to cause pain. We know it because we are loved by a God who never, ever, caused anyone to hurt. My God never gossiped, He never deceived, He never intimidated. So when we are confronted by the sins of our own, OUR OWN, we are stunned. How could she treat me this way? Why is he being so mean? Our heart breaks because we thought, we really thought, we were family and we were special. We try to analyze the action. There had to be a reason for this behavior. It has to be something I did or said or didn't do or say...it gives us a feeling of dread and fatigue. This isn't at all what fellowship in the family of faith is supposed to be like. We wanted, we expected, the Love of Christ. What we got was the sin of the world. From a brother. From a sister. We feel pain, confusion, hurt. And we want it to stop.

But we have to forgive.

 

Funny thing, though, about forgiveness. It's easy to forgive the sins of the unsaved, the ones who don't know the Jesus that is ready to forgive them. The One and Only Who died so that they don't have to be trapped by this sin.

They don't know better.

So we can count that as our witness project and be Love and be Forgiveness. We can point the way and not shake a fist. It's the ones who know Him who make it hard. We have to forgive them, too. But we must also look to 2 Timothy and "correct, rebuke, and encourage-with great patience and careful instruction." You see, it does no good to suffer the hurt, get offended, and retreat away from the brother or sister. We must draw nearer and instruct, so their sin won't continue. That, my friends, is hard. But it's what you would want if you had been the one who caused the hurt.

Pray hard. Reach out. Correct. Rebuke. Encourage. GENTLY. And love.

 

Because we know better. 

One time I dreamed...

One time I dreamed I was at the crucifixion.

How's that for an opening sentence? But it's true. It was the most realistic, pivotal, and unforgettable dream that I have ever had in my 55 years of life on this planet.

It wasn't during the Easter season or even Spring when I had this dream. Actually it was in October, I think. I hadn't been studying any particular part of Scripture that was lingering with me when I went to bed. I think that's one reason it weighed so heavily on my mind- it took me totally by surprise. That and the fact that I was at the crucifixion.

I was lying on the ground. It was a grassy hill and I was on my stomach. I was wearing black and I had my head covered; I was looking ahead at three crosses. The sky was light pink and green and yellow- like a twilight sky, but it wasn't twilight and the colors were not bright. Very pale. The crosses looked black against the sky. The air was cool and still.

As I looked at the crosses I knew there were men on each of them. And I knew the one in the center was Jesus. He was in agony. I must have known Him because my heart was so heavy with despair. I knew He was dying and there was nothing I could do.

In the dream I knew I had been there for some time. Hours. I had crawled along the hill to be as close as I dared to go. I was filled with more desperation as I heard him cry "'Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" I couldn't understand something. Things felt odd and confusing. Why would God be forsaking Him? I didn't know then that Jesus could not be One with the Father because He had taken on my sin. There could be no sin in the presence of God. I knew that I deserved this kind of death, not The Sinless One. There was stirring at the cross, the guards doing something. Clanging of metal armor and coins.

Then I heard Him say "It is finished." I understood the meaning behind the phrase; that His work on Earth was completed. He had done what He was intended to do.

I lay as still as I could lay. My hands were gripping the ground with every bit of strength I had. I could smell the earth beneath me, I could feel the blades of grass between my fingers. A layer of gray covered the sky behind the crosses. The hillside shook. I was shaking as well.

Then I woke up.

My heart was racing. I looked around my room. I knew I would never be the same. Even today, as I write this, I can still smell the moist grass and I can still feel the ground beneath me. And I can still look upon that cross with amazement. But I feel no despair as I did in my dream. I feel no confusion. For I know that my sin was paid for on that hill and that my promise of everlasting life was fulfilled when Jesus left the tomb. My hope lies in an empty grave.

I know that, at the time of my dream, I was enduring some pretty heavy issues. I remember that life was difficult at work. I was facing conflicts and doubts and deception. That dream left me quaking but confident in the simplicity of my faith. No matter what troubles surround me. No matter the stress. No matter the hurt. No matter the insult. No matter...what. It all pales in the shadow of the cross and there is no room for doubt in that empty grave.

I didn't really speak of my dream for a while. I told my husband, but no one else for some time. As you can imagine, it was quite disturbing. The events throughout the day seemed so trivial. Oh, the printer out of ink and we have the wrong cartridge? Guess what? I dreamed of Golgotha- I'm kind of preoccupied right now. To have been allowed some kind of emotional glimpse into the most important part of my faith, to be unconsciously there...but wait.

Wasn't I there? Weren't we all, really? Our sins were. They were right there on His heart and mind when He was being brutalized, suffering, and dying.

So as I contemplate the events of this Good Friday I do so with a different perspective now.

You see, I was there.



When was the last time someone showed you compassion? I mean the real, honest, selfless kind of compassion. Want a really good definition of compassion? Try: suffering alongside. Doesn't that just say it all? Drawing near, near enough to be alongside, then suffering right there with someone. Not just saying how sorry you are. Suffering- feeling the pain. Close-up, alongside. Maybe someone suffered alongside you with a phone call.  A gentle conversation that was mostly filled with silent listening. Or they asked you if you were ok and they really meant it. They had time to listen because they already knew you weren't ok. And they were there to "pray you through." Maybe they sent a touching card or stopped by to offer you...themselves. And time together with the Savior.

Prayer.

 

Wasn't it amazing? Wasn't it just The Best Thing? Maybe they spoke some helpful words that comforted or they offered to go into the Word and seek the Father's help. Sometimes just coming alongside us, sitting with us in the middle of our mess, and understanding. We don't have to have had the Bad Thing,  whatever it was, happen to us in order to feel someone's pain. In fact, we don't even have to agree with the person in order to exhibit compassion. If you love someone, their pain is your pain. You ache right there with them.

Because wounds are wounds, no matter if they are self-inflicted, accidental, or intentional. Do doctors only treat patients who have been hurt accidentally? And haven't all parents had a sense of compassion and tenderness for a child in the middle of meting out discipline? It doesn't mean we change things or that we disagree with the situation, it simply means we care. 

As Christians, we are to be compassionate people. John 13:34-35 tells us to love each other. Simple as that. There are really no strings attached to this one, nor is there room to question.  

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Note that there is no reference to whether you agree, whether your friends agree, or whether you will benefit. "YOU MUST." It's a commandment. Love. Simply love. For I do not believe you can love and not have compassion.

So now let's look at the reverse side of this compassion thing.

When was the last time you were compassionate to someone?

Wasn't THAT just the Very Best Thing?

 

 

To know that you have been a part of the real Big Picture in life- well there just isn't anything that gets any better than that. You have been obedient to the Lord. You have shown the closest thing to His love that we can get on this planet. You have loved selflessly, you've come alongside and mourned, wept, questioned, talked, been still, offered advice, prayed, and then you stood up, dusted your compassionate knees off, and continued on the path set before you. You have not done this in vain, dear sister. If you have offered a word from the Word, it will not return void and you will be rewarded. (Isaiah 55:11, 1 Corinthians 3:7-9) Not that we do any of this for a reward-- no, not at all. But to know that we are pleasing our Father is enough to bring us right back on our dusty old knees and praise Him for His love shown toward us!

 

And then there's the Third Side of this compassion triangle. The side we don't like very much. There's the side that is not pretty or rewarding or pleasing.

 

When was the last time you had an opportunity to show compassion and you ignored it?

 

Wasn't that just...the very worst thing.

 

 

You know you've done it. We all have. Or maybe I'm the ONLY GUILTY ONE and this blog is totally meant to beat me up and, if so, that's ok too. For I am guilty of not showing the love and compassion and suffering that I want to show to so many who are hurting and needy and sad and trapped and abused. How dare I not show them that I get it? That I know.

 

 

It must be pride. It must be. Even though I don't want to admit it. Maybe I don't want other people seeing me identify with the... "less fortunate." Maybe they will "Think Things About Me." Or maybe they will not think other things.

When Jesus was presented with the woman caught in adultery, how did He react? This is one of my favorite passages, for it shows the meekness yet the immeasurable power of my Savior.

John 8

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

8 ¹ But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.

An Adulteress Forgiven

² At dawn He went to the temple complex again, and all the people were coming to Him. He sat down and began to teach them.
³ Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, making her stand in the center. ⁴ “Teacher,” they said to Him, “this woman was caught in the act of committing adultery. ⁵ In the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do You say?” ⁶ They asked this to trap Him, in order that they might have evidence to accuse Him.
Jesus stooped down and started writing on the ground with His finger. ⁷ When they persisted in questioning Him, He stood up and said to them, “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.”
⁸ Then He stooped down again and continued writing on the ground. ⁹ When they heard this, they left one by one, starting with the older men. Only He was left, with the woman in the center. ¹⁰ When Jesus stood up, He said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
¹¹ “No one, Lord,”^[a] she answered.
“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

 

They tried to entrap Jesus. They thought, they really thought, they could "outsmart" the King of Kings. He was teaching. He was doing what He loved to do and they chose that time to actually imagine that He would have His guard down. I can only imagine how that conversation went. It would be like Moe, Larry, and Curly standing behind a temple curtain plotting to come upon Him when JESUS least expected it.

HE'S JESUS!

 

 



It's fascinating to me that He didn't choose this time to get angry. He was angered at the swindlers misusing and abusing the Temple, but here all He needed to do was to write something in the sand. Something so powerful that the crowd disassembled, starting with the older (and presumably wiser) men.

Have you ever witnessed God work this way in your life? Events orchestrated so that those who try to do you harm are actually blocked from doing so? The evil just retreats because it is no match for the power of God in the life of His children. I have stood amazed. So must that woman have been...amazed.

Wonder what He wrote...


I will show compassion. And I will tremble at the thought of what Jesus would write in the sand about me.  

 

 



 

 

I can work through headaches. I can deal with sore feet. I have the usual aches and pains of a middle aged woman, but there are two things that completely undo me: a sore throat and when I get Something In My Eye.

When I get something in my eye I go just a little CrAzY.

Whatever it is. Soap. Mascara. Eyelash. I really CAN NOT function. My thought process becomes totally devoted to the fact THAT SOMETHING IS IN MY EYE. I start trying to find it- first pulling my lid down and sticking my finger in it (like putting more things in there is actually going to help). I try not to rub it, which is what everyone tells you not to do, but is the very thing you want to do so badly. It's all I can think about. I am obsessed with the feeling that there is something most certainly where it should not be. Do not talk to me. Don't ask me any questions. I can't think. I won't be listening. I have something IN MY EYE!!!

What we are told to do when we have something in our eye is to close the eye and let our own tears take care of getting it out. I first learned this important nugget of first-aid in third grade when I got playground sand in my eye and the school nurse used a wet, grainy, brown paper towel to get it out and thus scratched my cornea. I had to wear an eye patch for weeks. (By the way, there is a statute of limitations as to how long you can tell a little blonde girl to pretend she is a pirate and not have her permanently damaged). Which is probably why I freak out when I get a THING in my eye. I don't want to be a pirate again.

When I am done losing my mind over The Thing, or when I am just plain exhausted, I often ask someone (usually and always my husband) if he sees anything in my eye. His answer is usually and always "no" and is also followed by "just close your eyes and let the tears take care of it." Such a wise man.

The closing of the eyes. The tears. The waiting. It takes time, patience, and trust. I give the body that God designed exactly what it needs: time to do its thing. I am a patient person (except when a Mack truck has parked itself over my iris). I can do this. All I have to do is pray- because that's how I have learned to trust. When I pray, I give every concern, every fear, every frustration to the only One Who can make all of them vanish in the wind. As surely as He flooded the earth He can rinse out my annoying little speck. I try my best in these times to focus only on Him. Because I am miserable.

I know I am not alone in this (maybe the entire freak out part); no one likes to have something in her eye. And I do believe women suffer more from this than men, unless the man works in a place with lots of cinders and sand and such. And, by the way, hats off to you, contact lens wearers, for you must be able to endure anything if you can function with something rolling around in your eye/head/lids. Wow.

So that's one reason why Matthew 7:3 really hits me. I can't imagine looking for anything in anyone else's eye when I have something in mine! Remember, I am in a state of non-functioning right about now. I am consumed with my own issues. I am in no position to deal with anyone else's mess when I am so messed up myself!

 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"

Yes, I understand this is about much more than a lesson in human behavior when struggling with a foreign object. This parable is, in fact, an old one. So old that the Pharisees would have recognized it. So old that it would have caught their attention and it would have caused them to take notice of the One speaking it. Yet so new and fresh in its application that today the verse hits me right between my plank-filled eyes. I have no right to be critical. I have no right to be judgmental. Certainly a right to be prayerful and cautious and concerned- that can lead to productive conversations--and hopefully changed hearts and circumstances. But there is no place for prejudice in the Kingdom of God. And, dear readers, unless we are engaged in dialogue with the ones we are being so judgmental of, and unless we are building relationships that can bridge these gaps, we are doing Christ an injustice and we are judging others simply based on what we see. With our eyes. That are full of "junk."

I also love the exaggeration used in this passage. I just do! For all of His patience, all of His longsuffering, Jesus seems to be totally exasperated here, and once again uses His wit to make such a profound point, all without being hurtful or rude. He didn't - and doesn't- need to belittle or hurt anyone to make a point. He never did. He never will. Certainly Jesus' words stir us and convict us, or at least they should. But His words never, ever mock or boast or exploit. For that is not the Heart of a Savior. Not the heart of my Savior.

For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.   John 3:17



So as I go through these days of specks and spots and planks, I take the advice given. I close my eyes, let the tears come- and along with them, the prayers- and I wait for the foreign object, the thing that does not belong, the misery to go away.