My Kind of Saturday Shopping

Randy and Denise (Nathan's parents) came to visit this weekend. The four of us left early Saturday morning to eat breakfast at Red Door Cafe (think country...rural...homeade sausage...homeade biscuits). Nathan and his dad went home and rode horses. Denise and I drove to Peachtree City to participate in my fairly new found hobby...yardsales.

When Nathan and I moved to Peachtree City, there were several pieces of furniture that we wanted for our home but we didn't want to spend money on furniture store prices. Thankfully we met Berry and Doris across the street. During our first conversation, I risked seeing their potential reaction and popped the question: "Do y'all ever see any yardsales in this area?" To my penny-pinching-delight, they smiled and replied "If you like yardsales then you should know this is the yardsale capital of the world!" I can forever thank Berry and Doris for teaching me the ins and outs of Peachtree City yardsaling. What a fun game!

• Peachtree City yardsales are EVERYWHERE on the weekends.
• Around Thursday you begin to see uniform signs pop up. Citizens have to buy the signs at City Hall. All yardsales are advertised uniformly. This keeps the town attractive, and also helps train my eyes to find these little treasure chests!
• The sales usually begin at 8:00...and that means 8:00!
• You can almost always count on finding great stuff.

We found

• an elaborate iron hose holder
• two natural looking topiaries
• a box full of Christmas red berries. (I have to share the price on this one because I ended up keeping most of them...the whole box was $3.00!)
• a little antique purse

A little later we visited the Junkin Junction...a flea market near home. We found three nice books for 25 cents a piece. But my favorite treasure of the day...

• My Cedar Arbor for an extremely little amount of money. I can't wait to transplant my climbing roses beside it.

We found some really good deals and came home very happy; I learned how to bargain from Denise; and we made a fun memory...My kind of Saturday shopping.

Truth Be Told

Right now I've pulled about five books off of my shelf that I'm looking forward to reading. I'm trying to patiently get through each one with out skipping back and forth, but I admit that I've read the first chapter of three of the books. Today my selection is Continuous Revival by Norman Grubb. The small 55 page book was given to us about five years ago.  Grubb explains how continuous revival comes through walking in the Spirit (concerning ourselves with moment-by-moment surrender to God), brokenness (which he describes as "the proud, self-justifying, self-reliant, self-seeking, self has come simply as a lost, undone sinner, whose only hope is a justifying Savior" p15). We are cleansed by the blood that Jesus shed as we repent and surrender to Him.  Now I'm in the chapter called "Conviction, Confession, and Cleansing."

Allow me to quote this excert because as Nathan and I search for "direction," I'm becoming more and more aware of how I sometimes walk around the truth. I don't always look at myself plainly...because it hurts:
Sin is a revelation. It is God who graciously shows us sin, even as it is He who shows us the precious blood. Sin is only seen to be SIN-against God-when He reveals it; otherwise sin may just be known as a wrong against a brother, or an antisocial act, or an inconvenience, or a disability, or some such thing. Indeed that is often the extent of the message of a "social gospel"---to be rid of sin as a hindrance to brotherhood, as an inconvenience to human progress, not as coming short of the glory of God. GOD shows us sin. We do not keep looking inside ourselves. This is not a life of introspection or morbid self-examination. We do not walk with sin, we walk with Jesus; but, as we walk in childlike faith and fellowship with Him step by step, moment by moment, then if the cups cease to run over, He who is light, with whom we are walking, will clearly show us what the sin is which is hindering--what its real name is in His sight, rather than the pseudonym, the excusing title, which we might find it more convenient to call it......As we walk in light, we recognize and confess our sins; the blood cleanses; the Spirit witnesses; and the cups run over again!

I've begun (once again...and again...and again) to ask God to reveal to me my false perceptions...what lies have I told myself because I can't bear to look at my sin? How have I run from He who is Light (and so much more)? I'm working through my theology in so many aspects and know full well that I will NEVER understand God. Instead of reading straight through the Bible, right now I'm reading Genesis through 2 Kings and inserting the books of Chronicles, poetry, wisdom, and Prophets as they fit within in the Narrative. Very rich! What God saysHe will do, He does. He said He would split the Kingdom because of Solomon's idolatry, and He did. He said He would give the Northern Kingdom to Jeroboam, and He did. But Jeroboam's statement in 1 Kings 12 strikes me very very personally:

He begins to worry about losing "his control" (ha ha...God placed him in leadership in the previous two chapters)
Then Jeroboam built Shechem  in the hill country of Ephraim, and lived there. And he went out from there and built Penuel. Jeroboam said in his heart, "Now the kingdom will return to the house of David. If this people go up to offer sacrifices in the house of the LORD at Jerusalem, then the heart of this people will return to their lord, even to Rehoboam king of Judah; and they will kill me and return to Rehoboam king of Judah." So the king consulted, and made two golden calves, and he said to them, "It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem; behold your gods, O Israel, that brought you up from the land of Egypt.

What does Grubb's book and Jeroboam's folly have in common with me? Just this:

Grubb is teaching from Scripture that our discipleship in Christ is a moment by moment journey of trust and surrender to His leading. WE DO NOT KNOW THE FUTURE. I don't believe I should be foolish and not be responsible enough to plan...BUT there is a BIG difference between "planning" and "attempting to control." When my plans shift from being a good steward of time, relationships, and resources to attempting to manipulate my situation...then I'm in danger of Jeroboam's sin. Jeroboam resolved to do anything to save face (literally and figuratively) to the point of making up a complete lie and probably...probably believing it himself.

So I'm asking God to shed light on my intentions (again). Scary isn't it? But here goes...I have nothing to lose in surrendering to His light but my pride...but I lose everything in believing lies.

Striving after Wind, Broken Dreams, Letting Go...God is good.

"Just as you do not know the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the activity of God who makes all things." Ecclesiastes 10:5

I've been a terrible blogger thus far...very sporadic in my postings and quite private really. Today is different, however. Today I'm going to share my life. Today I'm not doing what I thought I'd be doing a month ago. Today I'm far from where I thought I'd be four years ago. Heavens...when I really think about it, 10 years ago I did not even know my husband and 90% of the people with whom I converse on a daily basis! Crazy isn't it...how life changes? Crazier still how I think arrogantly that I can plan my life (as if it's really mine and not my Creator's...created for His glory and His purpose)!

I love to plan, daydream, idealize (love is a strong word and I use it intentionally). I really love to pretend I control my life. It's a sickness that's been diagnosed called Sin. No I don't mean that planning, daydreaming, and idealizing is sinful. I mean that falsely believing that I control turning my dreams into reality is sinful. What's happened in the last month has caused me to see that sometimes, just like the wind, His Spirit sends us in one direction and then changes direction. Right now I feel like I'm spinning. I'm confused, but HE IS NOT. I'm not spinning at random. I'm in His grip. But I'm really praying for clear "direction." Okay, do you want to know what's been going on?

Before I share my conflict, let me testify to God's clear leading in my past. I'll start with leaving sweet home Alabama. I sat under Steve Scoggins' teaching for 7 years (from 18-25 years old). Nathan and I never ever questioned if we were supposed to be at our church. It was our home. Really when I look back I've learned that true relationships are God's working. He brought us into strong relationships, strong Bible teaching. We had clear direction, and I praise Him for it.

God alone brought me to seminary. He placed the desire in my heart to be trained in Bible study and sharpened in mininstry. He gave me clear direction and graciously allowed me to finish the master's degree in the precious Biblical languages.

God moved us to Georgia. I've doubted that at times, but when I look back at my prayer journal I know that He brought us to Georgia. I can't say enough about the blessing of Nathan's job. I can't say enough...but I will some...He works for a God-fearing, faith-filled, honest, fair, merciful, kind Christian man, Dr. Bagget. He also works with Dr. Rickard, a fifty-something Spirit-filled wise man...a father-ish type mentor. Honestly, he's the kind of person that when Nathan and I are discussing something...I find myself asking him "What does Dr. Rickard say about it?" He also has a great working relationship with everyone else at the clinic. We love Braelinn Animal Hospital. And the Kirby's...God bless the Kirby's! Hugh and Mary Lynn! They opened their home immediately. Goodness I could go on and on about the people who have loved us for the past three years. My goal is not to bore you. I just can't share a struggle without sharing praises also!

But the past three years have not been the clean-cut path we had back in Alabama. I've not attended the same church, worked the same job, and lived by a neat schedule. I've studied late (I'm a morning person), carried up to four part time jobs, faught fetige that I think caused the strange heart palpitations. Nathan and I have learned big lessons (some of them through our sin and mistakes, some through other's sin and mistakes, some through triumphs by the grace of God). I've felt the the effects of irreversible time. Two years ago in the midst of all the changes (some of which I'm not going to share), I did what I do best...evaluated my life, evaluated my situation, and came to the logical conclusion that I should pursue a PhD. Then I concluded that yes God was leading me to pursue a doctorate for several reasons. First, I dream of seeing church families more passionate about God than SEC football (don't get me wrong...I'm a AU girl...I'm thrilled when the Tigers win...but really there's a time and place...moderation, fellow Southerners, moderation). Secondly, I want to see God's people love God's Word. Thirdly, I enjoy studying and writing. Fourthly, I felt led and saw a need for Biblical strengthening in family and children's ministry. Fifthly, (to be completely transparent) well...no I just can't be right now...maybe later. 

Here's the deal. God COMPLETELY opened the doors! By this cliche I mean that I looked at the leveling work....all the classes I needed were offered before I was scheduled to graduate with my masters. God MIRACULOUSLY enabled me to score high enough on the GRE. Deadline after deadline He ushered me through with "clear" guidance. My beloved professors encouraged me because there is great need for further study in the area of family and children's ministry, and I'm young and have a lot to give.

I felt needed...purposeful...clearly directed...

I went through an interview process and one of the professors encouraged me greatly. Ahhh...stability.
Then I was accepted. God provided tuition. I ordered my books. I registered for my classes.

BUT

All the while I kept sensing something...Am I pursuing a doctorate because I think that the seminary is my stability? Am I afraid of pursuing relationships? Am I pursuing a doctorate because I think I can succeed at school...I failed in relationships...at least I'll have somthing to show for my life...all things considered I haven't succeeded in very much other than my academic pursuits...but I haven't really tried much else either. Then I pushed those thoughts out of my head...thoughts can be hard to discern you know..especially since opinions abound in variety. No, God has opened the door. I'll have new opportunity and He will do so much through this...I can be an advocate for the cause of children. So I began to plead with God to close the opportunity for me somehow if that is what He wanted. I didn't want to make the decision.

Then two days before class was supposed to began I recieved a syllabus from one of my professors. I need to explain that I always felt a rush of exileration when I looked at syllabi for the first time in the past. I value learning. I love to sit in solitude a read a book...write a paper. This time the four page feather-lite syllabus felt like a boulder.

At the time I was reading through Psalms...Of course as He would have it the next Psalm was 73. Here is an excert from my journal that day:

-A doctorate will not validate my worth.
If I give up the doctorate...I'll be tempted by other thoughts...
-Beauty will not validate my worth.
-Marriage will not validate my worth.
-Children will not validate my worth.
-Friends will not validate my worth.
-Family will not validate my worth.
-A career will not validate my worth.
-MINISTRY will not validate my worth.

Psalm 73:25
"Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

So here I am. No more school. No church home right now. No idea where God is taking me.

I just want to be obedient...to love God with all my being and love my neigbor as myself. I'm praying He'll give us community and a love for people like I've never had. A love that says:

"I love people...not their acceptance of me." Because the later has been my downfall in years past. I no longer want to conform...I don't know if that makes sense.

He is faithful as ALWAYS to speak to me through His Word. I'm in Ecclesiastes now. So timely right? In the midst of changing winds...Solomon warns over and over and over....that we can waste our life chasing the wind. There is so much I don't know...we honestly don't know of which church family to join. So so much I want to see happen in my lifetime....

But I will declare publically today that I believe in our Soveriegn and Good God. He determines what is good and purposeful in my life. May I surrender afresh to Him today...draw near to Him...and cease striving after wind.

I want to be a better blogger and update better. Please pray for His wisdom over us. Blessings.

Friendship in 1993

I have a tendancy lately to post memories. A few weeks ago I visited Mamaw in Friendship and Papaw in the V.A. Nursing Home in Alex City. I wondered through their house (which really hasn't changed much during my lifetime) and thought how tragic it would be to forget their contribution to my childhood. Below is my memory of a typical weekend spent with them. I love them both so much.


Frienship in 1993

Lauren and I considered Mamaw and Papaw’s to be another home. Not much was off limits—what was theirs was ours. They were quite patient with us. As an adult I recognize their place was an open door of learning opportunities—a smorgasbord for the senses, unending exploration for the imagination—in Friendship, Alabama. Mama dropped us off on Friday afternoon with our purple duffle bags that said in gold “Tallassee Tigers” with a gold tiger paw underneath (which came from “Tiger Paws” downtown). Lauren had an array of dolls and animals: Molly and Jelly Bear for certain…and any other toy she could carry. I may have Samantha (Molly and Samantha were our American Girl dolls) and a few other toys but for certain I brought my hot pink Caboodle with a purple handle (I was an aspiring teenager from preschool). The Caboodle carried Teen Spirit deodorant, Cover Girl powder, a curling iron, and Lip Smackers Chap Stick. Mama pulled her silver Volvo station wagon into the driveway around the pool privacy fence around the carport right next to the fig trees. Fig trees with the sweetest plump figs you could eat. To the front was a large Magnolia tree with sweet smelling large white blossoms. Its branches were perfect for climbing--a common tree attribute on their farm. Underneath the Magnolia was a stone sidewalk leading to the front porch. In front of the fig trees was a raised brick flower bed with old fashioned roses from Grandmother Funderburk (her mother). Mamaw spoke fondly of her mother. Lauren and I thought fondly of her too.

Fortunately Grandmother Funderburk made an extensive scrapbook filled with pictures and paraphernalia. Mamaw, Lauren and I spent hours looking through her scrapbook (that aunt Nita eventually had laminated) and listening to Mamaw’s stories of driving the family’s model T, riding the family mule, and climbing trees with our great Uncle Charles on their home place about two miles away.

 To the right of the station wagon behind the fig trees was the cotton field and Papaw humming down the rows on his tractor. At 69 he was still farming strong. Off in the distance we could see the Milners brick house. And the long dirt road that carried us to Mamaw and Papaw’s “back place” where we also used to live. Beside the last fig tree was a homemade bird feeder.

Bird food was left over cornbread and other scraps—she had the best fed birds in Alabama. Nathan and I estimate that Mamaw has probably cooked at least 20000 pans of cornbread in her lifetime –no hyperbole- a conservative estimation.

The feeder was a hub cap perched on a fence post. To our left was their house—built by Papaw—which was remodeled and bricked before I was born. Four big windows were on the left side. The back window had another bird feeder shaped like a house that hung from the eve. The birds were practically pets! She kept a bird watching book on Papaws desk in the den. The back of the house had a covered patio. The entrance had screen door. The wooden door was painted yellow. The wood on the screen door was the same. In the window next to the door we could see the curtains with little sail boats. The patio had 2 metal lawn chairs and a little bench that my dad made. Every year Mamaw painted them (throughout my childhood they were several colors). But my favorite part of the patio was the little wooden swing that hung from the ceiling. Mamaw told me that it originally hung at the appropriate height for adults but she lowered it so it would be the perfect height for the grandchildren.

And they had a slew of grandchildren. First were Lisa and Laura (whom they lovingly called the “first crop”). Then came the “second crop”: me (Katherine), Will, Jay, Lauren, Grant (I can’t remember between the two who was born first).

Mamaw and Papaw lowered the swing so that a small child could sit down easily. From the patio was a very large carport. Large enough for their car and truck as well as a picnic table barrels for dog and cat food, a shelves with truck supplies, wheel bearer, and three bicycles: mine, Lauren’s, and best of all my daddy’s childhood bike (red with silver fenders). We kept our bicycles there because Mamaw and Papaw had the very best place to ride bikes. In between the patio and car port was a stone walkway filled-in with gravel. In the front corner of the carport were the dog’s water bowl and an old metal water pump. Behind the carport was the pool. Oh the pool! What Papaw said when we visited him in the V.A. nursing home a few weeks ago was perfectly true: “That pool was a good-un; got a lot of use out of it.” We sure did… and a lot of memories too. It was an in-ground pool with another large patio, a diving board (where I learned to dive), and a concrete walk-way all around. They had gravel poured around the walkway and a privacy fence. The gravel served as the perfect place to gather a rock collection.

Lauren and I were not the first to discover this. Stephanie, Charlie, Lisa and Laura were amongst the first. They took some of the rocks and painted pictures on them. The Second Crop of kids excavated the art. (When I was really young I thought they were natural.)

There was a flower bed between the carport and pool patio. I remember the plants were tall with pretty orange blooms. My mom says they were Cannas. Beside the corner of the carport and the pool patio was a large pear tree, not good for climbing but perfect for making pear preserves. Mamaw made fig, pear, and blackberry preserves every year. Wild blackberries grew all around! The cotton field curved behind the pool. Lauren and I grabbed our duffle bags and paraphernalia and crunched along the gravel toward the patio. The back door was open with the screen door closed and latched with a small hook. We walked up to the door and called for Mamaw. She walked from the kitchen on the right into the “utility room” to let us in. “Well, well, look who’s here,” she said as she opened the screen door and gave us a hug. She need not instruct us—we made our way straight to the front bedroom: through the utility room to the right into the kitchen and then down the L shaped hallway—the bedroom on the right and bathroom on the left. Mamaw and Papaw’s utility room was large with a half bath on the left (where Papaw shaved), a washer and dryer on the right with a utility sink in between.

It was this sink where Mamaw played beauty parlor with Lauren and me. We lay flat on the dryer with our head over the sink. Mamaw washed our hair with the sprayer (which I thought was so much fun), comb it out VERY slowly so that not ONE tangle hurt. Then…oh then…she would pull out her hair dryer. The hair dryer was placed on the kitchen table. It was the kind they have in salons that we pulled over our head like a helmet—so cool! Then of course Lauren and I traveled down the hall to the big bathroom which had a built-in make up counter. In the drawer Mamaw kept her nail polish—Lauren and I painted away.

The back of the utility room had a large deep freezer where they kept all of their frozen vegetables from the garden, ice cream, sherbet, and bacon. Their house always smelled of fresh vegetables (peas, turnip greens, and green beans), sausage, biscuits, and cornbread: a conglomeration of all of the meals Mamaw cooked daily. Mamaw cooked a variety of meals but my favorite included: homemade biscuits, sausage and eggs, French toast and syrup, cornbread, roast beef, potato salad, homemade corn dogs, chicken and dumplings, meatloaf, cubed steak and gravy. The kitchen had three windows. One was over the sink in between the cabinets. Here Mamaw kept her aloe plant. She broke a piece for Lauren and me and we played with the gelled inside and rubbed the aloe on our hands. The next wall had two windows. The kitchen table set in between the windows. One side of the table had a bench. The grandkids always sat on the bench—gladly! I was an early riser so I awoke with Papaw early and ate a bowl of cereal: Cornflakes, Fruit Loops, or Rice Crispies. He went to work outside. I sat in the den and watched Nick Jr. (Yes, I was an innocent 10-year-old aspiring teenager). At about 7:00 or 7:30 Mamaw cooked a big breakfast. She baked biscuits every day. She usually gave Lauren and me a piece of dough to play with. Mamaw also pulled out her electric skillet and cooked French toast which we ate until even sitting was uncomfortable we were so full. She used thick bread because she said it cooked better.

Mamaw started cooking French toast for us when I was in the first grade. When I was seven, I traveled with Mamaw and Papaw to Washington DC during Spring Break (although I think we called it AEA week back then). It was my first time flying in an air plane. Boarding the delta plan from the Montgomery Airport was a dream. Mamaw later said that she was afraid that I would cry during the flight out of fear and discomfort but no such thing occurred. What she didn’t know is that for at least the past four years of my childhood I stared from my backyard in amazement at the planes flying overhead. How neat would it be to get their view of the world! So the plane ride in and of itself was enough to make my entire year! But in addition to the plane ride—I was traveling to our nation’s capital. Several educational videos prepared me for the trip—my favorite was “American School House Rock.” If your familiar with the songs then you know I could wait to visit “Capitol Hill” where the pass “Bill”s. From books I read about famous Presidents I was thrilled to visit all of the monuments and memorials. So we boarded the plane—I with my very own pink and purple camera (from which I took all of my own pictures…much to everyone’s regret) and my mother’s childhood stuffed animal “Pepper” the dog. I stared out of the window the entire flight. (I’m still enthralled by planes and jets…I just have to take Dramamine today to conquer the flight without a green face.) Anyone who has traveled with me to a rich location full of famous sights knows that I get so excited that I zoom like a bullet from one sight to the next. I think I kept Mamaw in a state of panic. She couldn’t keep up with me. They never lost their patience though. They just laughed because they know I was soaking in every patriotic moment. Papaw attended a meeting for farmers. Then we went sightseeing: memorials, monuments, museums, the Capital building, and the White House. We saw President Bush (Senior)’s helicopter land on the White House front lawn. Back then you could walk up to the fence (I stuck my hand through the fence and touched the grass). On the plane ride home they fed us breakfast. I asked Mamaw what my breakfast was called, “French Toast” she said. I told her I loved it. So she always cooked French toast for Lauren and me.

Lauren and I sat on the bench, watched her cook, and talked about our adventures in the Capital City. After breakfast we decided if we wanted to play inside or outside first. We stuck together most of our time on their farm. Mamaw kept her homemade desserts (which could be caramel cake, divinity, pies, cobbler, or blueberry muffins)in the dining room, which regular dining room furniture and an antique wooden radio that still worked.

Lauren and I dressed in outfits from Mamaw’s old clothes closet and wore her shoes. We pretended to live in the 1940s. That era always fascinated me. I suppose we liked the family pictures during that time…Mamaw and Papaw’s wedding picture with Papaw in his uniform and Mamaw’s stories. We pretended that we lived back then. We made our house in the foyer by the living room. This room was perfect because we didn’t have to clean up. It was out of the way, except when Mamaw carried her peas and pecans to the front porch to shell. Then we’d join her outside and help. We all sat together, shelled, and watched the cars go by. We played a game. Mamaw, Lauren, and me each chose a color. Whoever was first to see five cars in their color won the game.

In the front bedroom Mamaw kept her cloth and sewing materials. We put together sewing projects—mainly pillows and dolls. I’m amazed at how patient she was with us and generous. She never restricted how much of her materials we used. She delighted in our creations. The back bedroom had a King sized bed. Mamaw, Lauren, and I slept in that bed when we stayed overnight. We took turns telling stories. We always told “The Three Bears” and “The Three Little Pigs.” The king size bed also transformed into a magnificent stage. When the second crop was together we performed many plays. It was not uncommon for kids to go through an unfriendly Junior High stage. Not our cousins. They were always kind—always! They came from Birmingham AL and Columbus GA. All of us together added to the enchantment of Friendship.

In the den we played at Papaw’s desk. There we found typing paper, crayons, markers, a typewriter, and printing calculator, stapler, scissors, and tape. Underneath the TV cabinet Mamaw kept her catalogs. Sometimes Lauren and I would play office. Sometimes I would write and illustrate storybooks. I may draw the illustrations or I would cut the pictures out of catalogs and tape them together.

After Mamaw cooked breakfast and cleaned the house she would sit in the font bedroom queen bed and read “Dear Abby” and the comic strips. We read these with her, lying on our backs with one leg propped on the other knee. Then it was time for a midmorning snack. The three of us headed to the kitchen to make a milk shake, talk about life: school mostly. We told Mamaw about our friends (she always knew them because they came to play and swim), what teachers we wished to have the following school year, funny stories from the previous year. Lauren and I washed our glasses and went outside.

The other side of the house was where we explored. Next door to Mamaw and Papaw was the white house where Papaw was born. The inside was used for storage. The kitchen was in the back and was tiny. The white house had a very large front porch. Sometimes Mamaw carried her peas and pecans to the white house porch because it had more shade with a better breeze. We’d join her there as well. Diagonally behind the white house was a big garden, two gas pumps, a barn, and a tractor shed. Papaw had a big, blue flatbed truck. I seem to remember the truck being used one year during “Trade Day” for a band’s stage. The flat bet truck was parked in the barn. Stairs led to a hay loft above. To the left were copies of “Time,” “National Geographic,” and “Reader’s Digest” magazines. Pecan trees were sprinkled throughout the yard in various places.

Another pasture was on the other side of the barns that was a hay field. The hay was rolled. The second crop learned that we could take turns standing on a hay roll and the rest of us could push. Walking on top of a moving hay roll was yet another fun game.

A hurricane came through at one point almost knocking down their pecan trees. The tree was left leaning with the root ball pushed up from the ground. After Papaw cleaned the limbs from the trunk, he left the trunk to keep growing. The angle of the trunk and what was left of one branch made a lounge chair of sorts. I sat on my perch reading a book or just thinking. It was a great little place to just be alone in my thoughts. Beverly Cleary was my favorite author.

The tractor shed housed Papaw’s “Cotton Picker,” his tractors, and his lawn mowers. In the afternoon Mamaw or Papaw traveled to the back place in the truck. That’s when I got to drive. Mamaw or papaw would have me practice parking around the hay rolls.

For the rest of the afternoon we rode bikes, swam in the pool, ate snacks, and helped Mamaw shell peas and pecans. In the evening we all ate a light supper: bowl of cereal, or maybe cornbread and milk. Papaw taught us to eat cornbread and milk. Then we’d watch Nick-At-Night: Mr. Ed, Green Acres are the shows I remember the most. Then off to the back bedroom to fall asleep, after of course telling one or two stories.

I agree, Switchfoot....a Beautiful Let Down it is.

In 2003, Switchfoot put out an album that was an almost immediate hit..."Beautiful Let Down." I can close my eyes and reminisce to the summer Lindsey Bizilia introduced songs that would describe in so many ways...me. I've spent so much of my life following strong personalities, but in the summer of 2004 I faced yet another moment of deciding "Who's the boss?" (a part of God's continual work of sanctification I think...because I seem to daily face this decision). In the midst of all of my insecurities I was either going to nod my chin like a bobble-head at every idea (in self-centered fear of rejection) or I was going to fix my face upon the Author of my faith and be "okay" with people thinking I was "weird" as a consequence. The change of heart resulted (and results) in this mindset: 

God is GOD;
Therefore, I cherish what He says.
I cherish what He says;
Therefore, I read/obey the Bible through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Simple but not simple. I spent the summer of 2004 crying out (literally into my pillow) to God. I wanted to know Him more and more and more...I can say He is faithful. The implications of the reality above are not easily embraced without utter acknowledgment of dependency on Him. I cherish my time in my little cozy spot with my Bible and pen, but taking His Word outside of the confines of my little spot...well its a beautiful let down...because I see my weaknesses...but I see His Glory. I see His strength working through me...in spite of me.

"May my foolish pride forever let me down"...and may I be awakened continually to the reality of God and what He says.

If you've never heard the song...or haven't heard it in a while...I posted it below!

[ Switchfoot ] - beautiful let down (w / lyrics)

Ordained Days

After some thought, I decided to share something I wrote down in my journal the summer of 2004 (the summer before Nathan and I married in August). It's based on Psalm 139. This psalm is a particular favorite of mine. I have another testimony to share regarding it but maybe I'll share it later. 

Ordained Days

All days ordained He could foresee

and were written in His book

before one of them came to be.

And one day written in His book

was for a little girl, who,

when He spoke the word,

the womb prepared for His Creation.

He knitted and twirled and covered her soul

with a body made in His perfection.

Her little heart beat the rhythm

so sweetly ordained by God.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down.

The earth runs its course through the days,

and as she grows her parents pray,

“Lord, close to Your heart, help her to stay.”

The days arrive when she’s old enough

to sit, to listen, to learn.

She sees the building with a steeple

and sits with all the little people

in a bright and sunny room.

The teacher begins with lesson one:

“For God loved the world so very much

that He gave His only Son,

so that if you believe in Him, you will not die

but live with Him forever.”

As her little heart beats the rhythm

so sweetly ordained by God,

with urgent choice

her soul’s voice cries, “I believe!”

and the angels rejoice in heaven

for all that she’s received.

He’s known when she’ll sit

He’s known when she’ll rise.

He perceived her thoughts from afar, but

nothing, absolutely nothing, could please Him more

than the precious moment she opened the door

and let Him into her heart.

She runs down the hall in pajamas 

and hurriedly slips into bed.

Her daddy comes to tell her good night,

gives a hug and kisses her forehead.

He asks her, “Are you excited?”

Tomorrow’s your first day of school!

She closes her eyes; he turns out the light,

and as she prays into the night

she asks Jesus to show her what to do.

As her little heart beats the rhythm,

so sweetly ordained by God

He knows the moment she’ll wake up to yawn and nod.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down,

months and years pass by.

With each passing day

she’ll learn how to pray

and trust that God is good.

He’s familiar with all of her ways

and can answer with each choice whether or not she should.

Now she’s a teen and wants nothing more

than to be known and understood.

Every moment she makes a choice

of which way she’s going to turn.

And though she knows her life is good

and her parents have done the best that they could,

for the sake of keeping all her friends

and maybe a little thrill,

she goes against all she knows.

She tries not to think of God’s will.

With each choice she climbs

in search of company and laughter

until the day she falls down her hill,

and pain comes tumbling after.

Her wounded heart beats the rhythm,

so gently ordained by God.

She doesn’t know she can’t flee His Spirit,

no matter how low she falls,

no matter how high she climbs.

The sun goes down, and the sun comes up,

but to her it still looks dark.

She sees the building with its steeple

and sits in a room full of people,

but finds it hard to take part.

A spark of hope is started though

as she listens to what’s being said.

She grabs the Bible from the pew,

opens where she’s been told to,

and simply begins to read: Luke, Chapter Fifteen.

About the lost coin, the lost son, the lost sheep.

“Rejoice with me! I found my sheep!”

Is what the shepherd had to say.

Then she read her Savior’s words that

“In the very same way,

there will be more rejoicing in Heaven

over one single sinner who repents,

than the ninety-nine who do not need to.”

And she felt her heart grow less tense.

                                                                                    

Her joyful heart beats the rhythm

so strongly ordained by God.

And there it begins its healing.

While the guilt begins to melt away;

for even the darkness is light to Him.

The darkness will shine like the day.

He created her innermost being.

He wove her in the depths of the earth.

She is still made as fearfully and wonderfully

as the blessed day of her birth.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down.

She grows in wisdom as she should.

She rises with her morning prayer:

“How precious are your thoughts to me

and how vast is the sum of them.

Oh, when I’m awake I’m still with You!

Search me, O God, know my heart,

test me and know my anxious ways.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting."

And all days ordained He could foresee

and were written in His book

before one of them came to be.

All the days high and all the days low,

Wherever His will may have her to go.

If she rises on the wings of the dawn,

settles on the far side of the sea,

Or even lives in the hills nearby

In close proximity,

From His Spirit she can’t flee.

His right hand will hold her fast.

The day arrives when the man she loves

pulls her close and gives her a hug.

His pounding heart beats the rhythm

so strongly ordained by God.

He tells her how he loves her heart,

her heart he’ll always cherish.

And as he gets down on one knee,

he asks her hand in marriage.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down.

The days and the months pass by.

They grow together and faithfully pray,

“Lord, close to Your heart help us to stay.”

She walks down the hall in pajamas,

and quietly slips into bed.

Her daddy comes in to tell her goodnight

and blesses her life as he kisses her forehead.

He asks her, “Are you ready?”

Tomorrow’s the big day!

You’ll take his hand

and promise to stand

as one heartbeat

bound and ordained by God.”

She closes her eyes, he turns out the light.

As she prays into the night,

she asks Jesus to show her how to love.

He’s hemmed her in before and behind.

As she grows, she learns to be kind.

Because of her Savior

whose royal heartbeat

pulses a redeeming flood, and

because He is Love, while nailed to the wood

He poured out His river of blood.

And so she’ll love those in her life

with a love that has no end.

Until her heart beats its last song on earth

and the rest of eternity sets in.

There she’ll continue to praise the Lord

far more joyfully than she could in the world

that was brightened by the sun.

For now she bows in the presence of Glory

and cries with the multitudes infinitely loud

HOLY, HOLY, HOLY

IS THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY

WHO WAS, AND IS, AND IS TO COME.

YOU ARE WORTHY OUR LORD GOD

TO RECEIVE

GLORY, and

HONOR, and

POWER.

FOR YOU CREATED ALL THINGS

AND BY YOUR WILL THEY WERE CREATED

AND HAVE THEIR BEING.

For all days ordained He could foresee

and were written in His book

before one of them came to be.

Her soul is joyful and she cries,

“Praise to the Creator who would love someone like me.”

As she sings His praise

in the midst of His Glorious rays

along with the saints before,

He speaks His Word once more.

And the womb is prepared for creation.

He knits and covers a soul

with a body made in His perfection.

The angels and saints rejoice.

All of Heaven’s in celebration.