Waiting

. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed...."

      I have so little to say, but somehow, opening my mouth (or laptop rather) and proclaiming that God is always faithful, no matter what happens is the only thing that will bring solace to my heart.  He is faithful, He is faithful. 

     My family is alive and well, and there can be no better riches than that.  It is not even riches that I am after, just the words from Him, "I will provide your needs."  It is a faint whisper coming up against a blaring blowhorn: "you will not be ok."  The one that is hardest to hear, most difficult to follow, and tempting to ignore- that is at times where we have to go, and what we must listen to, if we know what is best for us.  I am just at the point where I have to throw my hands in the air and say, "just do what You are gonna do, Lord," not spitefully or grudgingly.   I have a feeling that is exactly where God wants me: surrender. It just isn't easy. 

     When I think about trials, it reminds me of how it used to be when I ran cross country.  The first mile is always the hardest.  Usually by the second mile my legs go numb.  The third mile I think I'm going to die.  When I see the finish line, it is like I can't do anything but keep going.  All of the sudden, the fact that I'm literally delirious and in so much pain that I cannot feel my feet seems to not even matter because there it is, a rainbow bursting from it, the yellow line in all of its concrete splendor.  A surplus of energy overwhelms me, where does it come from?   I love it.  I cannot say what happened today for fear of harsh judgement, but it really felt like the finish line was in sight all day until a certain incident. It's like someone tripped me and I fell face first into the pavement. BUT, it doesn't change how close the finish line is, just how long it will take me to get there.  Stupid enemy. 

     Faith isn't an issue, it's "wait upon the Lord" that gets me all crazy.  We had our study group at church last night and going around the circle we were asked to complete this sentence, "I feel like God doesn't love me when....," and the truth is, I never feel this way. I know He has my best interests at heart, that is the TRUTH.  That is all there is.  When these trials push to a point of when Paul despaired of his own life (I'm certainly not at that point!), I am reminded to give thanks no matter what because at least God cares enough about me to want to see me grow. I know many do not share this way of thinking, but if it isn't so, then things are a lot worse off than I imagine. 

Bound up hate

      This is an utterly ridiculous blog entry, I'll forewarn you.  I am absolutely exhausted. I was foolish and I drank a cup of chocolate chai tea last night and when it was time to go to sleep, my body would not rest. I laid awake as the power went off at around midnight, and then could not sleep for fear Jake might wake up cold in our uninsulated upstairs. Don't worry, we have found heat and shelter at the in-laws house.  However, as a result of this electricityless existence came a lot of free time, and I picked up a fiction book loaned to me by Sonja, a book I have had for more than six months and I was near determined not to read it because I do not like getting caught up in fiction books.  I like to learn, and I never learn anything from fiction, I just get dreamy and contemplative, and I don't necessarily enjoy that side of me.  In either case, tired and stressed, I didn't want to learn anything, I wanted to enjoy a book. So, I picked up Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers.  I never doubted Sonja's taste, but I didn't know that I would enjoy it as much as she promised I would and I absolutely did, and highly reccomend it to anyone.  It is a wonderful love story that for me, touched my heart. The plotline is a rewriting of the book of Hosea, where God tells a prophet to marry and love a prostitute, who runs off and has children with other men, and yet, God has Hosea continually be faithful to her.  The book is a retelling and therefore the storyline is much more in depth than what the Bible tells, but it really was beautiful. This poor girl was sold into prostitution as an eight year old, raped by men, beaten, her wages witheld from her, and slowly she becomes a shell of a woman.  She does not believe in love.  When Hosea meets her, God speaks to him instantly and he knows she is supposed to be his bride.  I was quite irritated at the character development because Hosea is the ultimate husband. Ok, and ultimately his faithfulness and love is supposed to be parallel to God, although his human-ness does come through at times (not nearly enough, in my opinion, which is why I try to stay away from romance novels- those men don't exist!). 

       Anyway, I guess that's the point.  The author is such an intelligent writer and she has a way of making you look back into yourself, and also to the Lord.  If you've read Hosea you know that although he loves his wife, and he is so good to her, she runs away. The same happens in Redeeming Love, she can't enjoy love because she's only seen it break people down, and of course, she was so hurt by people who were supposed to love her.  I cannot at all, in any way, relate to what the main character experienced, although a small fraction of her hurt I well remember.  I just spent the last 30 minutes on facebook going through different facebook pages of really nice guys. Ok, I don't think I've ever met a "Michael Hosea" before my husband, but my past is full of really nice men that I wanted to be with so badly, and I just couldn't break away from the broken life that I had been accustomed to, that I thought I deserved. I just wish someone would have tried to save me, I wish it wouldn't have gone so far.  No man could have saved me, it had to come down to surrender to the Lord, I just wish someone would have heard my cry and directed me to  Him.  Would I have even listened? I don't even know. 
      
        I have to believe that I met Paul in the right timing, afterall, if I would have met him any earlier I would not have the little "world changer" Jake on my hands.  He is worth all of the pain.  I just think about how the salvation of Sarah (the main character) came about, and it was 100% relient on Hosea obeying God's call.  So often I read romance novels and I hate that I can't be married to the main macho man of the story (and I don't watch romantic movies....I watched Becky's movie Bed of Roses and was in total sap mode for a week!).  Anyway, reading about Hosea in the book made me very grateful for Paul, grateful that a man finally looked passed by faults and loved me otherwise, loved me more because of them.  I'm feeling a little silly that my last blog was also about Paul, and this blog isn't entirely about him but instead about a man who obeyed God's call to marry a broken woman, and I am so grateful.  Alistair Begg (Paul's favorite famous pastor) has a sermon where he fusses at all of the single men for not going after single moms as spouses.  We think we deserve more, that God didn't raise us up for something that might make our lives more difficult, and that God's call won't hurt at all.  In the book, Sarah really struggles with not being able to give Hosea a 'clean version' of herself, and I can just totally relate. I think it is so touching that's God's heart in the book was to give Sarah, a woman who had been intimate with hundreds and hundreds of men, to a man who had waited his entire life for just one woman. It just broke my heart, in a good way because that is God's heart. It is so beautiful.
          Ok, that was totally off subject.  My entire point of this is that I believe God is ushering in a generation of people that are going to love so much, so selflessly, it is going to break down barriers. If we can learn to love without judgement, learn to obey without question, and serve without self, we can change the world.  I am just so excited to incorporate this into my own life, and see this manifested in others, and see people healed and set free.  I called this blog "bound up hate," because it's the opposite of the book title and the state we will all abide in without God's "redeeming love."  I think I am in the mood for some worship music now.

Best man standing

     At around 3 years old, I knew I wanted to be married. God put that on my heart at such a young age. When I was 4 years old I “invented” an imaginary friend that I called my brother, who went everywhere and did everything with me. I wanted that constant companionship even then. When I was 5, for Halloween I dressed as a bride, no doubt my favorite costume over the years. I kept the veil and wore it during playtime, just in case my prince showed up and wanted to whisk me away. But my reality threatened that dream. Even after I knew stability (my mom met Dave when I was 8), “fear of man” consumed me. I was desperate to fit in and have a boyfriend but anytime anyone of the opposite sex, teachers and friends alike, approached me I would freeze, sometimes tremble, and often times after the situation I would be hyperventilating in a bathroom stall. It was not a fun existence.
     By the time I was 17, I had never even held hands with a male. I was terrified, and embarrassed, all while my heart longed for someone to share my life with. I remember when I got married I asked a friend, “Can you believe it?!” and she responded, “Summer, you’ve been married to every guy you’ve ever liked, they just didn’t want to be married to you,” and that was the truth. I was always thinking of marriage.  I knew the only way to have a boyfriend was for me to approach my best guy friend (who I knew liked me) and explained to him my fear. We sat down in chairs across from one another and I said “ok let’s do this.” He would touch my shoulder. Ok, I can handle that. He would touch my knee. Ok, that wasn’t so bad. It was all very scientific. I would say, “ok try holding my hand.” When he would go for it, I would rip it away. Ok, let’s try that again. And again. I think my first kiss took about an hour to accomplish. I made him tell me each step in the process, what he was going to do, what it was going to look like, and again and again, I jumped away before it could happen. Not romantic at all, but still a means to an end. Certainly not fit for a fairy tale.
     I never got away from this, you know. God just knew it about me. That is why meeting Paul was so amazing. I met him online, so we could only talk online or on the phone. We were in love before I even met him in person. I was still scared, but I knew if I wanted to be with the man I was going to marry, which is all I really wanted out of life, I was going to have to be touched. I knew I was going to marry him before we met.  I remember standing in the airport, and my chest broke out in my famous “nervous rash.” It spread across my chest and arms and face like a red blanket. I told Paul on the phone, knowing I was going to marry him, “when I see you in the airport, I am going to kiss you!” No, that didn’t happen. Instead, I buried my head in my hands and froze. He had to come find me. That hug he gave me was indescribable, Paul gives great hugs and I think he knew a kiss wasn’t going to happen because I didn’t even look at him. I knew I had to leave with him though, I knew I loved him, and I already knew in my heart I was going to marry him. It was great incentive to get over my fear. Unfortunately my fear was not completely gone, so I had to sit down with Paul and have the same talk. I told him I was afraid of him, and mostly afraid that he was going to kiss me, and I started to explain the process of learning to be close. He didn’t even wait for me to finish, he just lunged down the sofa (where I was sitting like three feet away from him, my future husband) and kissed me. In a sappy way, I had my fairy tale in that very moment. When he kissed me, I woke up and no more being afraid. I finally broke free from the curse that was trying to ensure I would be alone forever. We spent five days together, he bought a ring, I wore it, we planned a wedding, and voila! It was that easy.
     I guess I had this on my heart because last night Paul was being kind of sappy, and well, sappy is my middle name! I especially love "sappy Paul." I love being with Paul. We are nearly one month away from our two year anniversary and I just can’t imagine life without him. He is my other half, and I love being married, just like I always knew I would. I think about how the enemy tried to take that dream away from me through my fear and how I almost let him. I hate that about myself. But God promises good to those who love him, and I am so glad that I get to live out my dream. I am so happy with Paul. I feel like I lived my whole life to get to this point, to finally be married.
     Paul and I have been asked to walk through a lot lately. In our first year of marriage alone Paul was unemployed for 3 months, got a job he hated, we moved across the country, he was unemployed again, we lived with his parents, he got a new job, moved into a house, and had a baby. Now he’s getting ready to be unemployed again (unless someone calls to hire him, which would be an answer to prayer right now). But we are a three year old and one baby richer than we were the year before, I think those two keep us looking ahead, and looking to God because we really can’t do any of this without Him. And we look to each other.    
     My faith is like Plexiglas on some days and just one cynical remark from anyone threatens to shatter it, but when I have Paul’s unwavering faith to back it up, it takes out some of the sting from the world. I just love being married, it is everything I thought it would be as a young child, and even more. Paul is such a good man and on days where I wonder where God is in all of this, I look at Paul and remember that God must really love me because I get to be with Paul for the rest of my life. If I could have sketched out 15 years ago what my ideal husband would look like, it would look exactly like Paul Krismanits (minus sports, BUT I will acknowledge that he has given up a lot for me...since he reminds me everyday  ;)  ). In a world where the “best man standing” is the one with the most money, the blondest wife, and kids that are all after their phd’s, Paul falls short. In the first chapter of Psalms it says, “Blessed is the man whose delight in on the law of the Lord,” and if the Bible is missing in our house, I just have to figure out where Paul was last and it’s usually lingering in that general area. Paul is one of the best men standing by my standards and I know by the Lord’s, and that is what matters most. So, Happy early anniversary Paul, keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll get where you’re trying to go. I love love love you.  You are my favorite person in this world. 

kids and setbacks, but not setbacks with the kids :)

     I wish I could write every day. No doubt I could keep track of writing about my kids and myself, even though the two are so closely interelated. Our computer is currently charged so perhaps I should do some writing about things other than deep religious convictions…just to mix things up a bit. I don’t want this blog to be all serious.
     Jake is a fireball. I know everyone thinks he is this gentle little spirit but something seems to happen when we crossover the threshold of our front door. He has been especially wild today. He goes from one naughty deed to the next. It is the clever way not to receive a spanking. I threaten to spank when he screams at the top of his lungs, and then threaten to spank when he doesn’t listen, threaten to spank when he’s ramming his car into the fridge over and over, trying to wake his sister up in the next room. He never does the same bad thing twice, so he doesn’t get punished. Of course if he does something especially terrible, like hit his sister, discipline will ensue, but other than that he goes through the whole day being nuts and not getting into trouble. Part of it is the rain. I can think of a couple of people with no children who must be thinking, “discipline your child!” but I am taking into account that he has been cooped up these last couple of days. That is never a favorable scenario with a three year old boy. His new favorite word is of course, no. “Jake, do you want to wear your hat?” and I hear, “NOOOOO!” Ugh. It is 56 degrees in our house right now and Jake did have on socks and a coat, but he took it off over and over, and now he is just in fleece pajamas. I just gave up, he won’t let himself freeze, right?
     I love all of his new words, I’m almost grateful that he can say “no.” A speech therapist came out the other day to do an assessment and find out if he will be eligible for services the next year, and the resounding response we hear is NO! He is perfectly normal, and he was 8 months off when we started speech therapy. You know, when you are a parent, you have to pay attention to your intuition. When I was going through all of this with Jake, I had a number of moms tells me that I shouldn’t look further into Jake’s lack of speech. One older mom even told me that I was cursing Jake not to be able to speak by acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t talking. I cried and cried, fearful that I must be the most faithless, irresponsible mother in the world. I made a dr. appointment and we learned he did have a mild version of speech Apraxia. Now he can say maybe 300 words. When we started the program, he couldn’t even say “Mommy.” I am grateful that I went through with the program, no one knows your child like you do. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. I’m often times obsessed with what other people think about me, as sad as that statement is. But in the end, as a parent it comes down to YOU. That’s it, no one else. And God forbid you let someone who doesn’t have children tell you what to think, that is the greatest crime of all. Just because you don’t remember how naïve and innocent you were before you had kids, well, that is no excuse J
     I feel bad that I had Jake so young. Of course I loved him, but I don’t think I enjoyed him. I mean, I liked dressing him, sitting him on my lap, but there were certainly times where he was sort of a burden. Not a mistake, not anything I regret, but as a 21 year old I wasn’t exactly ready to give my life up. I feel quite certain that Paul and I have made up for the first couple of months of Jake’s life where I felt this way, as now he is constantly showered with attention, probably the reason he acts out when I need just 15 minutes to do dishes. Heaven forbid we not be playing with him, which we love to do, but breaks come so few and far between. I say all of this to say, I love having a baby. Sonora Grace is just amazing. I could just lay on the floor with her for 30 minutes and watch her smile and kick and roll around. I just don’t remember having that same relationship with Jake. I love having a girl, love her pretty little smile. She is rolling over, and by that I mean using her rolling as a means to get from point A to point B. She’s all over the place! She also has two teeth now, which means I am not so incredibly excited about nursing past the first year but I’m going to try my best. I love her, love love love her and I feel like I’m getting to see what real motherhood feels like, not anything like doing it as a young single gal. Much more fulfilling.
     I guess I write about myself all of the time on this thing. I get so worried that I sound boastful. I just get excited about what I believe, and I yammer on about how happy I am, about all of things I’m learning, and I don’t mean to sound like I know everything. I’m sure you can guess what Paul said about all of this, “anyone speaking with authority is going to sound like a ‘know it all’,” and still, that is not my heart. So I guess I want to talk about my weaknesses. I’ve been in need of a mentor as of late, and I’m excited to begin meeting with Helen Sparks in the next couple of weeks. I need a seasoned lady of faith to speak into my life. I learn so much and start firing it out, and then my husband or Mom or friend will say, “yeah, but what about this?” Uhhh…I don’t know. I’m dumbfounded, yet again. Furthermore, I think I am the worst housekeeper in the entire world. We tend to have people over anyway because we love having guests, and I know they peek into my dirty showers, and see the dirt swept under the rug (Paul hates that the most) but seriously, I wonder why my husband even wants to be with me because I just cannot keep it together. I’m worst about laundry. I can do it, fold it, put it in a basket and then it never gets past that point. I’m just as bad about papers. What kind of papers? Anything, anything that comes in the mail and needs to be paid. Paul gets like a thousand collection notices from debt people and they pile up, and I eventually throw them out. Then he needs one that he pays, and can’t find the bill because I finally got around to throwing all of the papers away. It’s chaos around here. That’s the other thing. I wake up and pray for peace in this house. I turn on worship music, and sing and dance around with the kids, pray a little and the phone rings. Guess who it is? Debt collectors, calling to steal my joy. There is no way around it, no “it’s not your fault you’re in debt,” because that is entirely untrue. Except that it isn’t my debt, but since Paul and I are ONE, it is mine. I’m made very aware of that after I explain that Paul is at work and they ask for his wife. Yes, it is my debt too, and I hate it. I’m so burdened by it. We have consolidated half of it, have two of them on payment plans. We can’t even afford heat right now, Paul is days away from losing his job, and yet the collectors call treating us as if we are scum. We were heading to the Chapel Valentines day dance that someone sponsored us to go to (best gift ever!) when one called and I explained that I couldn’t talk because we were on the way out the door. He told me that I had no business going out to eat when I owed them money. Those guys are ruthless. I told him it was free for us to go because it was, but I get so tired of them calling. It totally puts me in a slump. I feel so dirty when the phone rings, I say “Hello,” hear no response, and hang up promptly.
    So there, I am a disaster of a woman. I do love the Lord, and I know that through Him I am no disaster at all, don’t be fooled though. I write all of this because I was at a friend’s house recently and I peaked into a bedroom to see laundry folded on the floor. It was like a wave of relief just rushed through me. It was a great feeling to know that I wasn’t alone, that my struggles are shared. I do not feel glad that she shares my setbacks, but justified. Just know that I struggle, so much sometimes that I just want to hide away in a cave and let no one know me. God’s grace is so good, and I know he’ll take care of me. I also know that I will not always be walking through this season in life. Still, I am human. Big surprise, right?

I'm ready for revival!

     Jake pulled on the charger to the computer and it snapped right in half. Consequently, my blog became discontinued and my life feels a bit less fulfilled.  For now, I have a couple of minutes of which to write and since so many things have gone unsaid, I am not sure where I should begin. I however have been greatly inspired as of late.  I love these seasons where I feel the Spirit stirring.  Imminent change is on its way and it is a good kind because the Lord has willed it.  We are on our way to something new. 
      I recently rode on an airplane from Charlotte to San Francisco with Sonora and Jake, all by myself.  I survived by God's grace alone and all of the help that I received from others.  You know, I do believe that people are born into original sin, that is, they are born basically bad. There I said it.  However, before all of my liberal friends reach behind them in search of their soap box, let me explain.  There are such wonderful, good people in the world. I love people.  God has put in me an overwhelming love for others, and it is a both a burden and a blessing.  My fellow travelers on the airplane put a chaotic, scared mom above a peaceful plane flight, and I am so grateful.  People are good, and although many may disagree with me, I have come to learn that it is merely God in them. When I am at my best, I feel the Spirit at work in my life.  When I am feeling blue, I search in desperation for my missing piece, and when I find it, I can feel the smile spread across my face.  It's like I can't even help it.
     There is a friend that I have desperately been trying to minister to. I finally got to a place where I felt like breakthrough and revival were going to break out, and she backed out.  I think I was more upset then she was, and while I know that I love people and it is out of my love for people that I sometimes take these kinds of things personally, when I see my good deeds as merely God working through me I begin to think, "wait, that is His heart, not mine," and I'm so aware of His great love for us. As a lover of people, desperate to see people won to Christ, breaking chains and walking in total freedom, I can tell you that without God I would probably care less. With him, it is sometimes all I think about.  He loves his children so much.  You know how else I know that he loves us?  Because the Bible says that he is a Father, and while I am not a Father, I am a parent.  Do you know how much I love my children?  There are no words.  Do you know that I would do anything, absolutely anything in the world to see them claim their freedom in Christ and walk out in it (without interferring with their freewill...sigh...)?  I would lay down my life, for sure. God gave up His son that he loved so much so you could have that freedom.  When I start forgetting how God feels about me, I look at Jacob's little giggly face and I am made so aware of His affections. 
     We live in such a broken world.  I hate this world.  Have you ever hated this place?  Not the people, just the ugliness that is everywhere.  I do all of the time.  But I sound like a movie line here, but let me say, there is good too.  There is so much good and that is God coming to earth.  If you have God in you, share it. With a smile, or a hug, with the truth spoken in love, or interceeding for someone who hasn't even asked you for prayer. How about giving someone the awesome gift of freedom?  I have been struggling with this, that is why I am writing.  Not because I am super woman, but because I want to be :)  I just want to freely give because I have freely received, and I'm not sure where to start.  Anyone need prayer?  Anyone need me to explain what freedom in Christ means?  God can work through you even if you spit in His face everyday of your life, I hope that is humbling.  Knowing what He is doing makes it a bit more enjoyable.  He is so good, I can just feel Him stirring right now, leading people into restoration and I love it.  I am excited to be a part of it.  We all can be a part of it.  Invite him to live in you, to let His Spirit reside in you, and you can share in this joyful time. 

Heavenly Father, I pray for revival.  "You said, ask and I'll give the nations to you, that's the cry of my heart."  Bring revival, I pray that every heart would be broken before you, that a spirit without Your counterpart would be thirsty as the ground in a dry desert drought and that you would allow cool rain to fall and refresh.  Restore and refresh, God.  You are the best!  For those of us that know you, fill us again.  Let us step aside and let You work.  Let us be willing vessels. Thank you for the gift of marriage, and of course, children.  Thank you for loving my husband and my children more than I do.  Anything else?  Aaaaaaaamen.
    

Why create a tempter at all?

     I have had more time to myself as of late, at least an hour or so a day, much more than I am used to. There are times when I'm doing mindless activities such as changing diapers, doing laundry, cooking spaghetti for one more dinner that I wonder if my mind even works anymore. Time off proves that it does, and since I have now been awake since 6:00 am (thank you very much, Jacob) I decided not to mope around but instead to blog.

     Let me pose a question, completely hypothetical and imaginary in nature.  If there was a button you could press to make your life perfectly good and successful by your definition, no heartache or grief involved, would you do it?  I spend about 10% of my time praying and trusting God to give me what I need to raise my children and about 90% scared to death that I'm parenting a wayward child, or that I might lose one of them and my life would never be the same.  So again I pose this, if you could press a button that would ensure your children to grow up happy, productive citizens, would you do it?  

      I've been thinking about this.  You may even say, as one of my radical Christian friends :) that I already have that button, and that is the word of God.  BUT, I know plenty of parents who attempted to raise their children as a steward of the word and rebellion rebuttal-ed!  There is no way we can guarantee how our children will turn out, although prayer and study of the word will certainly work in our favor if we are given over to it in constant devotion.  And yet, if there was no chance of our children becoming wayward, we would have no reason to be in constant devotion and prayer over them.  Now I'm straying from my point even, because I posed a question that I've been thinking over for days.  Despite the fact that, yes I will say it, I am obsessed with seeing my children be normal, successful, productive citizens that know the Lord, if I could ensure it absolutely I would not do it.  

    Why?  Because if I pressed this hypothetical, imaginary button then they wouldn't need me anymore. Sure they would need a caretaker, but not a parent and that is what I love most about my kids, the interaction with them.  My family and I took Jake to meet Thomas the Train yesterday. Jake is so funny because he gets so serious when he is happy.  He's all stoic when he sees Thomas. That is joy for Jake, to be serious.  Why build these special memories with him if he's going to turn out "good" regardless of what I do?  I would take my job far less serious if I knew that to do it well or do it halfheartedly, he would turn out the same. 

   

     "Why create a tempter at all?"  I've had those words floating around in my head.  God created everyone that is good by this world's standards, everyone that is evil by this world's standards.  I had a really difficult time on September 11th. Paul and I watched a special on the events in New York.  I found myself telling God, "You better make sure those terrorists burn in Hell!," and then I remembered that God created them.  He must have had a reason. I don't know that this is Biblical other than the fact that God created you before you were born, has all of your days numbered before you are even born, desires to give us hope and a future, so there is no doubt in my mind that each one of us was anticipated.  So another question, if you could see into your future all of the good you are capable of, and all of the bad you are capable of, given the outcome would you still want to live?  What about for your children?  I mean, my answer is, heck yes I want to keep my kids!  I know given poor instruction they will be given over to sin, but if I can show them an alternative, show them the face of all things good and point them there, they are capable of greatness.  When I see murderers and terrorists on TV I wonder what could have crossed God's mind when he created them.  But I don't think God creates us thinking, "this person will bring evil into the earth, and that is my intention" but instead, "They are going to do so much to bring my glory onto this earth if they choose me."  And we all have to choose, and it is that very choice that ultimately determines our fate.  

     So what if there was no evil. I know that anyone in a season of hurting or despair, or remembers one that might have just passed will say, "I'd prefer a world with no evil, no suffering!," but if we had that button that would predetermine only good, by our definition, then why would you have any reason to even read this blog? Why would you need me, and why would I need you?  Why would you need God?  The answer to all of these questions is simply, you wouldn't at all.  I often become frustrated with this "God doesn't want us to suffer" gospel because without it, without evil, we wouldn't need relationship, one of God's greatest gifts. Relationship with one another, and relationship with Him. It's hard to imagine what kind of praise that God created Satan to deliver to Him, Satan was one of the most beautiful angels, surely God had a beautiful plan for him.  Isn't it scary that even in the face of God one can turn away?  Pride is our enemy, for sure.  

     Well, I think I deserve some sort of medal for writing this blog, not because of its content or ease of reading or insight, but because I have a two year old standing behind me in the computer chair jumping on my back and sliding off the side saying, "weee," oh, and pulling my hair.  And even though I have some sort of sick logic where I believe that Jake should never have to feel any pain, if he didn't almost die when he was 17 days old, I would not appreciate his life during every cold, every flu bug that is rough for awhile but goes away in a week's time. If he didn't squash his fingers in the door I'd never hear, "Tiss Mommy," as he holds his smashed finger out for me to kiss.  If he didn't feel pain, he wouldn't need me at all.  And if we didn't feel pain, we wouldn't need relationship with God.  But we do need it, so desperately.

    So I think the ultimate question I am asking is: what is freewill worth to you?  Is evil necessary for freewill to exist? To dispute it is almost pointless because it is what it is, but let's not allow God and his Word become too distorted given the culture, both Christian and non-Christian alike.  I'll let you think about it ;)

   I would like to say, as a closing note, that I hope God does not make me prove that I believe this.  He has a not so convenient way of teaching us His principles if we do not grab onto them as truths, and even if we do, setting them firmly into place.  But I am about to spank Jacob for leaving the house and wandering into the yard, and I suspect it's kind of the same sort of thing God has to deal with all of the time.

Can't get away...

    Braxton is my dog from college.  My parents gave him to me for Christmas several years ago and I brought him to Greensboro to live in my apartment with me. I'll never forget the vet telling me that he was a high energy dog and he would need to be walked every day, and preferably learn a game, such as fetch, to expend his endless energy.  At this time he was just a puppy, and as a proud parent I went home with the brochures on teaching dogs fetch and I began my training.  If you know Braxton now, you know that I was a very successful dog trainer. It's all Braxton does, it's all he thinks about.  I'm working on segueing into another topic here, something not so lighthearted so hear me out.  Anyway, we've had an ongoing joke with Braxton since I've been visiting. He pretty much follows my Mom around with this stick and lays it at her feet. She gets out of bed and stubs her foot on the sharp end of the stick, curses Braxton and throws it. She steps down out of her chair and her foot lands right on top of the stick Braxton has strategically placed in front of her.  Only hours later, she sits down  in the chair and pulls her knee up to her chest.  She goes to sit down all the way and of course her leg comes down on this stick.  Ahh! It's like she can't get away from this crazy dog (ok, none of us can get away). She just told me that as she was sleeping last night she rolled over to tell Dave goodnight and as she rolled back over, Braxton and his crazy panting face had placed his porcupine squeaky toy right where she lays and she ended up rolling on top of it. 

      It's makes me laugh every time, but the truth is, I began to see a pattern here.  Braxton puts the stick where he thinks you'll be next, based on where you've been, he tries to tempt you into throwing it, because he won't go away until you do. Furthermore, our family has a golden rule: "don't throw the stick for Braxton or you'll be doing it all night."  Once Braxton knows you'll grab that stick and throw it, he targets you. He comes back over and over because you caved here, there is a likely chance you'll cave again.  Last night Mick grabbed the stick, threw her arm forward and then backwards and let the stick fly behind her. "I cheat the system now" she laughed, and sure enough, Braxton was running around in front of Mick looking for the stick she threw.  When he can't find it, he's quick to find another that looks just like it. It's exhausting resisting Braxton.  

     I love Braxton, and Braxton is not Satan (although my Mom probably disagrees with this statement) but isn't that just how Satan works. He meets us where we're at, puts traps right under our feet, and we're too busy to even look for them. The same traps ensnare us over and over. It's disgusting. Furthermore, we find ways to cheat the system.  To not acknowledge the attack we must walk the other way, or simply bury our head under a pillow. I do that mostly, fail to resist, which is what Paul instructs us to do!  I have the power to tell that fear to leave, but I let it fall on me because I think I might be foolish if I speak out loud,"Go!"  What in the world?  

     I hate Satan every day, I hate this world (not the people..) most of the time. I especially feel sorrowful today because a young girl was murdered in Charlotte. I did not know her, although I have several friends in common with her on facebook.  She is 23, and so am I.  It is so tragic to me that her life was cut so short.  As far as I know she left with a man from a bar and he killed her.  His mugshot haunts me because I told my Mom, he looks like a normal guy!  I wonder why God made me so sensitive, how am I supposed to live in this world?  Of course, I cling to Him and His promises, but when the noises of the world choke out that small voice, when the media bombards me with murder mystery after murder mystery (Dave watches back to back "dateline," ugh) I wonder how I am supposed to cope.  Geeze, I don't want to even think about me- what about these poor parents that just lost their daughter?  Her Dad was the police chief of Concord, you sort of feel like those kind of families should be immune to these terrible upsets, because they work in law.  But none of us are safe. We just have to trust, have faith, obey, and pray and not fall into these traps.  Paul was telling me about this horrible serial rapist that murdered all of these girls and apparently Paul saw a special on him on tv where he was interviewed. He said it all started with a simple addiction to pornography and he became obsessed with controlling women. 

      That's the thing with these traps, eventually we just latch on because they keep coming up to us and we're too lazy, too spiritually stagnant, too beaten down to do anything about it.  I'm trying to think what could maybe stall these traps, and I can only come up with one thing: evangelism. Spreading the love of God, planting seeds.  Those of us who believe in God have been shaped by our culture to believe that if we utter the name "Jesus" we're radical, judgmental, self-righteous, and stuck up.  Maybe we're going about this all wrong if that is the impression.  It all comes down to love, the antidote to fear.  It's about all of us holding the keys to squash these traps, to stand in the gap for others, to fight for them.  I have the answer to solve any addiction, any obsession, any fear, to heal disease and I keep my lips sealed. That is a trap in itself.  I'm not in any sort of mood to try to convince a murderer he can make it into heaven, I'd rather not see him there nor do I think he deserves it, but that's why I'm not God.  Anyway, we must remember that Paul, who wrote a good portion of the New Testament, murdered Christians before he was Paul. An encounter with the living God can change anyone.  Now if I could just get to a place where I'm brave enough to share those keys I have.  Fear has had my number for far too long.  How about you?

Legacies

     Last night I had the privilege of introducing Jake to the Cabarrus County Fair.  The fair was once my favorite part of the entire year, almost parallel to Christmas if I were to rate my anticipation alone.  I have been going since I was born, pictures of me riding the carousel with my Mom adorn pages of one of my favorite photo albums, along with one of my sister and I hugging Barney while at the fair. Mick and I were even put in the paper one year, sitting and eating barbecue at the Troutman's hut. I love going because it was a time when Mick and I would get to spend an entire evening together.  Last night, I loved watching Jake's "serious face" as he rode the "copters" and "chucks" but my favorite part of the fair still today is to ride with my sister.  I hope one day Jake can say that too, that the rides are fun and all but the BEST part about the fair is how it brings family together.  There is something incredibly exciting and charming about hearing Mckenzie say, "I think I'm going to throw up."  It's ok, she's never actually gone through with it.  I love my sister and even though we've spent a good part of our lives being at odds with one another, even given our differences, we have always been the best of friends if a funnel cake and "spins so fast you're sick" rides are involved.  Not that Jake understands now, but he will one day. Mommy loves this, and I'm having a good time because she's yelling "weee!" like the weirdo that she surely is.  Yes, that is the legacy that I hope to leave Jake.
          
  I really felt like I should mention the fair, although that is actually not the experience that brought "legacy" to mind.  The fair was last night, the barn cookout was tonight.  You know, when I tell people that I grew up on a horse farm they look at me like I'm some mythological creature, that I hopped off the pages of a fairy tale.  In some ways, my life was a fairy tale. Tonight, I watched the 10-16 year olds chasing one another, setting up tents for the camp out, tacking up horses and turning on the ring lights to get one last ride in. That was me only a short time ago.  That was my life.  I watched Harley and Shannon trying to jump over the coop (not on horseback, on foot- it's a favorite challenge for horse kiddos).  I remember when that coop was built.  Furthermore, either Mick or I were the very first ones to jump over the coop, to invent that game.  Before the ring was even built, I was rolling around in the piles of sand until the tractor smoothed it out.  Seeing the bare feet of young ones kicking up that sand behind them as they raced through horse manure and dust reminds me of a simpler time.


      I brought Sonora in to the tack room to show her. At least ten saddles lined up on the wall belonging to the lesson program, teaching other kids to ride. I counted, "1...2...3.." of the saddles used to be mine.  A small crosby, a Synthetic, and then the Pessoa, my very favorite.  The girths, "1...2...3...4" were once my girths or my sisters and they eventually were inherited by the lesson program as we grew older.  My old helmet now belongs to Shannon. I remember the day I got my braid saver, a stretchy fabric that goes over a horse's braids before a show the next day.  Jazz always looked so super fancy and adorable in that thing.  Now it belongs to the grandkid's and their ponies.  I used to not pick up on smells of the barn because it was just part of me, but the leather scent of the tack room stirred such nostalgia.  I remember what it was like.


     There is no self pity in this statement: I never owned a super fancy pony. I owned well behaved, very nice, very competitive ponies and horses. Granted, the barn was not the show barn that it is now.  I guess that's my point.  The kids now all ride adorable ponies, win at these BIG fancy shows, and my parents are horse experts.  But, it started with Mick and I on Secret and Corduroy, not standing a chance at even sixth place at a schooling show.  We were happy though, and we loved those ponies.  And geeze, if there were time machines and I could actually go back knowing what I know now, I wouldn't give up the chance to show Jazzy Lady for the nicest pony in the world.  But, the kids get to do what they do now because of what Mick and I have ridden through, worked our way up to, and then passed the baton onto the next generation of barn rats.  I can remember teaching a lesson student who once said, "I want to ride like you," and I'm pretty sure I responded something like, "I'm sure you will one day."  Now, I want to say to her, "no, you will be better than me!"  And they all will, and that makes me very happy.  


      Sure, there are fancier ponies and horses walking the halls of Ridge Haven.  The shows are bigger, the trucks and trailers are way nicer, and Dave works harder than ever.  But, if you were to stop in front of the barn and dig down below the posts, the hunter green paint will stop, and below are two young hand prints plastered on each side, and those are mine.  The second fence post boasts even smaller prints, those of my sister.  These days, the closest I get to any horse is driving by a pasture and seeing one grazing on the side of the road.  But while I am visiting home I see these kids riding and even though I have an emptiness, an ache in my heart that misses it so, I feel pride. I feel warmth and joy as I see these kids enjoying horses like I once did.  I hope, as one of the original barn rats, that they will enjoy these days. How quickly they pass, as I well know.  But I like to think that Mick and I left a sort of legacy, an invisible hand print on the side of Ridge Haven that includes more than jumping the coop on foot, sleeping outside in tents, riding horses well after the sun has gone down, bathing in the wash pit, riding the four wheeler, and chatting with the other barn rats until our sundrop high wears off, oh gosh, and a million other things, but that horses just make everything better.  That relationship you have with the other barn rats, the lesson parents, all of the laughter, the tie that binds each one that invests his or her time at the barn, you can't find that anywhere else in the entire world.  It's truly special, and I pray that no one gives it up earlier than they have to.  Carry it with you, everywhere and always, and most especially, pass it on.  

Ephesians 3:20

^"20Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,"



        This is the story of my life.  Why am I given so much?  Why am I so blessed?  You know, I woke up this morning and rolled over to see the most beautiful little girl face I have ever seen.  Seconds later I was greeted by the name, "Mommy," from my rough and tumble little boy across the room.  What angelic alarm clocks I have.  I don't think I would change anything about my life.  Maybe a couple of impossible tasks (even by the hand of God!), like if only I could be in two places at once my life would be a bit easier.  I wouldn't mind having four arms, or maybe another body altogether.  Maybe that's called a maid?  In which case I would need a bit more money, which isn't impossible but I've begun to accept that it may not be what my family is called to.  The point is, I am happy.  I love the way things have turned out.


        Jake is busy. He is strong-willed.  He is a relatively laid back little boy all the same.  He cracks me up when he says "cow eat corn" and he wants me to tickle the little spot above his knees, and he rolls around on the floor and giggles. It's the same way my grandpa loved to make me laugh. I love family. I love my family.  I have been so blessed to have parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles that love me so much.  I have in-laws that are like family, they are my family.  I am very blessed.
       I don't know much about Sonora Grace yet, even though she seems to be quite sensitive, loves attention, and happy when she gets her rest...ok, she is so far, exactly like me.  She is after all, my daughter.  I love having a little girl.  I especially love when she is crying and only I can comfort her- there, my secret is exposed.
      Then there is Paul, the cliche "peanut butter to my jelly sandwich", and whatever else goes perfectly together, well then that is us.  He is the best, without him I don't even think I would care to know Ephesians 3:20.  He began my love for this verse.  I thought I was happy before Paul, but once I married him I finally understood what "better than you can imagine" actually means.  I had  a plan and God turned it upside down, into something much more beautiful than I had planned.  Thank you God, and thank you Paul.


      I guess that is it for now. I have a baby girl waking up and a toddler trying to escape.  Is there any way to really childproof a door?  This blog is going to be fun, hopefully I can make time for it.