still they were beautiful

the time is this

2012-01-28T23:00:00.007-06:00

This is our life.

Our crazy, loud, goofy, beautiful life.

The one where we host barbecues in the dead of winter because it's fun and it's different and teenagers like both of those things.

I'm pulling out of the mid-winter ministry funk. I can feel it.

What I'm realizing is that this time is precious and short. We won't always be doing this. We won't always have barbecues in January or dress up every month or flip pancakes at the high school before the first bell rings. It's a sobering and motivating truth. We are invited into the lives of these precious young people for only a season. So what are we doing with it?

Tonight, I sit in a quiet room that was anything but quiet two hours ago, and I'm thankful. I know that several more times before this adventure ends, I'll be overwhelmed and burnt-out and discouraged and even angry. It happens. This is why I record the joy and remember the good. Here I raise an Ebenezer. I've marked the way.

Can I confide in you, as a side note, that I have a genetic disorder? I got this one from my mom, and it's called, "NotabletothrowSolocupsaway."

We'll use these babies again, mark my words.

Anyone wanna come to a February swim party?

a daily life primer

2012-01-25T09:06:00.012-06:00

I believe in...

drinking coffee out of beautiful mugs, though I will drink the first cup of day out of anything....scratch that...probably not out of the toilet

keeping as many green plants around as possible

a lit candle in a dim room

journaling

warm cozy blankets to wrap up in during morning's quiet

pancakes ala Jack Johnson on a day off

being goofy

What's your daily life primer? What are the things you do regularly that make your life a joyful thing?

peace

2012-01-18T13:36:00.003-06:00

Wouldn't it be great if this was reality all the time?

Peace is frustratingly elusive. Am I the only one that feels that way? From what I read on other's blogs and hear from friends' hearts, it's seems I'm not. Our lives are hectic. Whatever it is you carry, I know it is heavy. Whatever is it that keeps you racing, I know it is non-stop.

My hamster wheel? An ambitious New Year schedule to stay on top of house-cleaning, grocery-shopping, and cooking, waitressing 25 hours a week, meeting with college and high school girls 3-4 times a week, people in our house for dinner or games 4-5 times a week, K-life events, trying to maintain relationship with people I love that live far away, and serving my husband and letting him know that he's important to me.

Phew. Sometimes it feels better just to type it out.

A lot of the time I feel exhausted. Often, I feel misunderstood and under-appreciated. Frequently, I feel daunted that we are committed to ministry for another year and a half. And I continually struggle to keep peace in my heart.

But the God I love is the Prince of Peace, and the life He promises is one of victory, and He speaks an offer of rest and hands out a light yoke. Why, then, does all of that seem like a fairy tale some days?

Tuesday, I stood in front of the washer, pulling heavy, wet clothes out. The thought came, "Nothing is so urgent that it should steal your peace." I whispered it out loud, and my eyes wet. Yes. Yes. YES.

I'm fighting back against the tyranny of the urgent.

It's time to kick some roommates out so Peace can move in.

What does that look like practically?

- I'm limiting time on the Internet. Mindless blog-hopping has become a real habit for me. I want to take my life back from the Internet! I find that the amount of time I spend browsing around online directly relates to the amount of insecurity, discontent, greed, and unrest I battle.

- I'm asking the Lord what His expectations are and releasing my own. So much of my anxiety comes from failing to exceed stupid goals I set for myself. My home does not look like a Pottery Barn catalog, my meals are sometimes a little insipid, and sometimes I say things that are really awkward or thoughtless. It's okay. It. really. is. okay. Jesus wants me to be conformed to His image, not the image of Martha Stewart or the Pioneer Woman or Mother Teresa. I need to let go of standards that only serve to increase my pride and self-sufficiency.

That's all I have so far. Two things is a start, y'all. Oh, and this. A quote from Amy Carmichael that I have written on my kitchen window with black dry-erase marker. Yes, I am that classy.

(Forgive me if I've already blogged this quote. I can't remember.)

His thoughts said, "If only things continued in a regular order I would find it much easier to maintain a restful spirit, but as it is, there is no continuance in anything, ever."

His Father said, "Think it not strange if it be so. Thou hast here no continuing city; thou art seeking one to come. These changes are merely the landscape of thy life as thou travelest to the City which hath foundations. But thy journey may be restful; if thou art inwardly at rest nothing outward can disturb thee. Peace always under all conditions--that is my word for thee. Do not let it slip. So not drift away from it. Hold it fast; for it is not a vain thing for thee, because it is thy life."

Oh Jesus. Would that You would show us today the things that make for peace.

dormant dreams

2011-12-28T20:38:00.004-06:00

The seed catalogs have begun arriving.

Two yesterday, stuffed in the mailbox along with a couple straggling Christmas cards.

I sat down on the couch and wanted to take a long look. I was ready to pull out a black Sharpie and circle my favorites. They're my grown-up Sears wishbook, those seed catalogs. Barbie and Skipper replaced by heirloom purple pepper seeds. Who woulda thought?

I haven't cracked them open yet. I probably won't. We're going to be gone all summer, and when that decision was made, another one fell behind in rank. We won't be growing a garden in 2012.

It's sad.

Oh, we are going some wonderful places this summer. The home of my dear, dear sister. Europe. Our little mountain town that we count a second home. For a soul smitten with wanderlust, it' s a dream summer.

Not all dreams can be lived at once.

The garden dream is a little sacrifice. Just some vegetables and flowers. In the scheme of life, not a big deal.

Yet what about the bigger dreams? The ones God planted in the soft, broken-up soil of my early 20s? The dreams cried and prayed out from the gross carpet of a small dorm room?

It is still true: not all dreams can be lived at once.

Economists would call it opportunity cost. I call it as Psalm 16 does: "Lord, you have ordained me my portion and my cup."

The garden waits.

The dreams wait.

But, look, here is today, and He is the God of today. This is not lesser life than holding the sick in India. This is not lesser life than being a momma. This is not lesser life. This is the apportioned cup...the overflowing cup.

The unfulfilled desires? Are they from Him? Then they will last. God's dreams don't come with an expiration date. They don't have a shelf-life.

Today I live something as eternal as it gets. It's a different dream than I thought, and I'm living it.

handmade gifts

2011-12-16T07:24:00.020-06:00

Merry Christmas Eve!

I was going to post this over a week ago. Then I couldn't find some photos from last Christmas, and I got mad and abandoned the post. Now I'm back with a little more temperance. I'm too late to give you any ideas for this Christmas, but perhaps you could squirrel away some inspiration for next.

The older I grow, the more appealing a handmade Christmas sounds to me. It's less expensive and generally more thoughtful. How cool to be able to give someone something that you crafted with your own hands!

Tiny Pouches

I am so excited about this one! I made tiny pouches for each of our K-Life leaders this year, using this tutorial. I would describe my sewing skills as novice-in-transition-to-middle-level. Haha. Therefore, the first pouch I made took me a while, but by the fourteenth one, I was whipping these babies out in twenty minutes.

Coffee Cup Sleeves

One of the projects I could not find my pictures of. (Image from House on Hill Road , where the tutorial is also located.) I made these for my small-group girls last year. I bought disposable coffee cups and filled them with a gift-card to our local coffee shop, hot cocoa, and a couple bags of tea.

Notebooks

Again, one of the misplaced images. (Picture and project idea from B*spoke.) This one is super easy and quick! I made these last year for our K-Life leaders. Here is the . This project is made a lot easier with access to a long-arm stapler.

Placemats and Napkins

I sewed these double-sided placemats for a dear friend. The idea came from Centsational Girl. I used a fabric pen to draw the design on the tan side.

Soap

Our gal Martha has some good recipes for soap. I made oatmeal honey last year, but all of the recipes look pretty fun. You can get glycerin at Michaels (they usually have some 40% off coupons floating around).

Bread and Butter

We gave Pull-Apart Cinnamon Bread and Cinnamon Honey Butter to our K-Life board families. I bought pint-sized canning jars and filled them with the butter.

In keeping with my frequent (ridiculous) desire to make everything appear magazine-picture-worthy, I had a vision of how I would package these. I sent Aaron to the store with vague instructions to get bread-shaped bags if available, and if not, plain ziploc bags. He returned with huge bags covered in...penguins!

The Holy Spirit gave me extra grace to release my silly expectations, and I was able to laugh about the penguins and not send him back to the store to re-do. I did, however, redeem the penguins with some pretty striped ribbon.

Fun Stuff in Jars

I think a cool jar takes food gifts to a new level. This image has been floating around Pinterest. Cookie or sweet bread mix in a milk bottle - super cute.

I found these Weck canning jars from Crate and Barrel, and they would be so fun filled with a treat, even just a stack of cookies.

And there you have it. The beginnings of a sweet handmade Christmas 2012.

sprucing the house

2011-12-07T13:18:00.013-06:00

Linking up to Melissa's Christmas Home Tour!

Sprucing the house...for Christmas! Get it? Spruce...a type of evergreen tree? Sprucing...putting out decorations? So funny, right? If you could please laugh now, that will make the awkward moment after a weird joke so much shorter.

Thank you.

(The pun would be even better if our Christmas tree was a spruce; alas, it is a pine.)

Very well.

The house is ready for Christmas. I love it. I love adding touches of Christmas all over the house. It takes me a couple of days or even a week. I have one box of Christmas decor and other than that I use stuff from our yard (sticks, pinecones, greenery), and I tweak and fluff and spruce (last time, promise) until I like the way everything looks. Natural, simple, and best of all, not expensive.

If you're looking for ideas or just like looking at other people's houses (I do), here's our Christmas tour.

I added some new ornaments to our collection this year. I think found the Scrabble ornament idea on a blog. I had a bag of old Scrabble tiles, so I hot glued them together to make words like light, adore, joy, hope, peace, king.

I borrowed this idea from Heather, who I think found it on Pinterest. Why I would spend time covering ornaments in fabric and twine was a great mystery to Aaron. But he told me it was pretty anyway. :)

The full body shot. Our tree skirt is a piece of burlap that I pull and tuck until it looks nice.

I took the leftover branches that we cut off the bottom of the tree and wove them into this grapevine wreath, along with some faux red berry strands.

Across our piano, I did a simple banner with twine, mini clothespins, and old letter cards from the game Probe.

On top of the piano I put cranberries and white candles in mason jars. Pottery Barn had a similar look at their store with small glass lanterns. I already had the mason jars, so I improvised.

If you try this, use tealights that are contained in a plastic or metal case. Votives by themselves will get you this:

Sort of looks like frost, eh?

Along the fireplace mantle, I swooped a garland I made out of paper circles. I saw the idea at Anthropologie. I think they must have used much thicker stacks of circles, because their stacks fanned out more than mine. I was hand-cutting my circles, though, and I didn't want to cut that many!

A grouping on one side of the mantle. The puzzle is an Ansel Adams picture.

My personal philosophy on poinsettias is a little goes a long way. But this little guy is the perfect touch of red for the entryway.

My friend Kyndel had the idea to make snowflakes out of old clock hands we found while antiquing in October. Love it!

This sign is a free printable from Jones Design Company.

Doilies have made a comeback. Our little lacy friends are once again in vogue. And I think they look like snowflakes, which means I'll probably leave them around until February.

I know this looks like a big bunch of branches. It is. But look closer. There's a Christmas card! Way to go Grandpa and Grandma on being the first Christmas card to reach us! I got the idea of hanging our cards from branches from Martha Stewart. So no hatin'.

Some other little spots around the house, sporting a touch of Christmas cheer...

Let's keep it totally real...

Whop, whop. I dropped the vase that the branches were in while I was talking to my mom on the cell phone. And there's my glue gun cord. And a left-behind branch.

Hope you enjoyed the tour!

our thanksgiving: in list

2011-12-04T09:51:00.014-06:00

We drove north last week to celebrate Thanksgiving for four-stretched-out lovely days.

1. I did the best job packing I have ever done. Thorough. (I cannot tell you how many times we have had to stop to buy various toiletries or undergarments that I forgot to pack.) Creative. Ahead of time. I decided to lay out all my outfits piece by piece. It was really fun, and I realized how many cute clothes I do own! Another perk of No-spend November.

2. We spent Thanksgiving day at Aaron's grandma's house. His step-grandpa, Dennis, always fries up something delicious to munch on before the meal. This year it was frog-legs and alligator. A little exotic spin on the traditional fare, no?

3. On Friday, we traipsed about a Christmas tree farm to cut down a tannebaum for Aaron's parents' house. What a fun tradition--and it's a lot easier to watch your strong husband saw through a trunk than to fluff fifty-jillion faux tree branches. It's official. I've passed over to the "real tree" side.

4. Saturday morning, we got some reading and online Christmas shopping done at Gusto, a fun coffee shop in Lee's Summit. Daily coffee fix, check.

5. We spent our last night at ALoft, a modern hotel in Leawood, Kansas. It was nice, but a little too modern for my taste. Too much gray can be a bit depressive.

6. A fancy dinner at the Cheesecake Factory was a fail, due to a 1.5 hour wait list. Since we had tickets to the symphony, we opted to grab cheesecake to-go. As for dinner, what better Plan B than Denny's? (Also the only restaurant in near proximity to the symphony hall.) Delicious food. We might have been a little overdressed.

7. The symphony was amazing. Kansas City just completed a new symphony hall, and it was majestic. The music, a compilation from Russian composers, led us through a gamut of emotions from elation to dread (as most classical music has the capacity to do).

8. On Sunday, we flew through a flurry of amazing shops: World Market, Anthropologie, Target, Pottery Barn, and Crate and Barrel. Result: ample Christmas decorating inspiration and all of our Christmas shopping done! (Daddy, remember our online shopping, lest ye think we bought your gift at the aforementioned. )

9. We pulled into Bolivar just in time to have chili at my parents' house. After dinner, my mom asked us to help set up and decorate her tree. It's been a tradition for the last couple years to play in the Christmas tree box with my niece and nephew. As they're gone this year, we promised them pictures of Peter and I doing the same. All was going swimmingly until Peter broke the box.

Classic in-front-of-tree pose. Either a) we're on our knees, b) my mom has a ginormous Christmas tree, or c) we're dwarfs and you never realized it.

waking up to your life

2011-11-16T09:26:00.005-06:00

The real issue of No-Spend November has been to lay bare the idols of money and stuff in my life, yet a few other things have been uncovered too.

I am becoming more grateful.

I am learning to read this life in the language of what I've been given, not of what I do not have.

Sunday night we gathered all our K-Life leaders in close. We set out turkey and rolls, and they brought the other mainstays: stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green beans. We borrowed a mishmash of tables and lined them up end to end and sent brown kraft paper rolling down the whole thing. We lit some candles, and Aaron put on a CD of cello music.

We're not afraid of cheesy, so yes, we sang the Doxology whilst holding hands, and yes, we partook in that time honored tradition of sharing what we are thankful for.

When it came my turn, I said,

"Sometimes I look around my life and think 'What can I not be thankful for?' That part in Philippians where Paul wrote about being content in plenty and in want--sometimes I feel like I have never had a season of want yet."

The thing about thankfulness is that is expands your soul. What you once thought a small, cramped, hole-in-the-wall flat is now a huge farmhouse with lofty, beamed ceilings. What you once thought such meagre furnishings, in need of total overhaul, are now catalog worthy displays, artful and lovely.

While, really, nothing in the circumstance has actually changed.

Only your heart.

I used to read blogs about home decor and fashion and lust after all the pretties. "If only," I would sigh.

If only Aaron made more money. If only I made some money. If only we could afford to buy new furniture instead of someone else's hand-me-downs. If only I could shop at Anthropologie and Ann Taylor Loft instead of garage sales and thrift shops.

This month, the "if onlies" have begun to slink away. I feel like I am seeing the abundance of my life for the first time. It's not about me, either--about what I've collected and curated finally being enough. No, it wheels me around 180 degrees and plants my face in front of God, and I am broken by His goodness and anguished that I have missed so much of it for 27 years.

May we take a long look at our lives, today and every day. May we breathe in and out thanks. May we, we who have never deserved, make much of the One who has always given.

Thoughts on food

2011-11-14T13:09:00.016-06:00

Hello, and welcome to a post that I have thought about for a long time. I've even taken pictures for this post and stockpiled them up. Today I read something that finally motivated me to write about

food.

The blog post I read was about the paleo/primal diet. I had never heard of that diet, and from what I can gather, it sticks to strictly fruit and veggies, nuts, eggs, and meat. The big no-no is refined sugar.

I don't think we'll ever eat that reduced of a diet, but we do try to eat in a healthy way. If you remember this post, I came into our marriage with more of a bent to eat well, and Aaron has been a slow convert. It took at least a year, but now his palette appreciates whole grains and fresh foods in a way that he never did before marriage. I am glad that I was able to save him from that food captor of most single American males: ramen noodles.

(Aaron inserts: "I still like ramen noodles.")

Shucks.

I want to share a few things about how we eat, but before that, a disclaimer...

I struggled with the beginnings of an eating disorder in college. During that dark time of my life, I cut out almost all food but fresh fruits and veggies. I also ran five or six miles a day, rarely taking a day off. Now, six years later, I have found much freedom from the bondage of food and exercise, but I also recognize that it is an area I am weak in. The tendency to retreat back into that bondage is still there. So when I talk or think about food, I have to remember that while it a healthy diet is important, it should never ever be an idol or stronghold in my heart.

As my dad once told me, "I'm fifty-five years old, and I've eaten margarine all my life, and God will take me when he wants to." Haha. Daddy, I don't fully agree with your philosophy, but you do provide a good point: we should do the best that we can with eating, and we shouldn't let food become the most important issue of our lives. The big issue is GOD-- living lives that glorify Him and finish faithfully at His feet whenever He calls us home.

On the other side of the pendulum, the way we eat can bring glory to God. I think He is honored when we eat food that He created, food that naturally gives us energy and contains oodles of vitamins.

Here are some things we do:

1) Eat as little processed food as possible. The closer you can stay to the food's original form, the better. As I type this, there is a box of vanilla wafers, a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, and a bag of blue-corn tortilla chips in our pantry. Nope, we don't do this perfectly. But, in general, I don't buy a lot of snacky, processed foods. We'll eat them if I do, so it's better if I don't.

2) Eat a lot of fruit and vegetables. Aldi is a great place to buy cheap produce. I drug out all the produce that I bought today for a picture.

Ready for this? 3 lb. of apples, 2 lb. of grapes, 1 cucumber, 1 bag of spinach, four zucchini, four pears, three avocados, and a bag of celery for $11.49. That's not bad! Their produce prices are consistently much cheaper than our Wal-mart Supercenter.

Grilling some veggies on the George Foreman, Aaron's favorite kitchen appliance

Smoothies are a great way to get four to five servings of fruit/veggies into one meal. We always throw in a cup or two of spinach to our smoothies. You can't taste it and it adds a lot of vitamins. I make up a new combination every time. My basic ratio is 1/3 frozen fruit, 1/3 fresh fruit, 1/3 liquid (juice, milk, or water), and a little kefir or greek yogurt if I have it on hand.

A smoothie in the making

3) Eat whole grains in place of white. We eat brown rice. We eat whole wheat pastas. I make my own bread. Those are things we've done for a long time, so they don't seem abnormal anymore. I buy a lot of my whole grains at an Amish bulk foods store. It's a 20 minute drive, so I go every other month and get whole wheat flour, oat bran, wheat bran, wheat germ, and cracked wheat. The bread recipe I use is super adaptable, and each week, I add any combination of the above ingredients.

4) We don't eat margarine. I had to mention this one for you, Dad! We use butter 'round here, and it is tasty! I don't keep track of how much fat we eat. This is something I've intentionally let go of since my extreme eating days in college. My basic philosophy on fat is as long as it's natural and in moderation, go for it! We eat butter, and I cook with heavy whipping cream.

The butter's always on the ready

5) Eat ethnic. Not only is it exciting to try new recipes from different countries, they are often healthier than typical American fare. Google search coconut milk, quinoa, or couscous, and try a new recipe!

I love the spices that are in ethnic dishes!

There you go. We're definitely not health-food nuts by any stretch, but I think the things we do are good starting points, and they are pretty simple to incorporate into any diet.

A great resource for eating a more natural diet is the book, In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan. I checked it out from our library last winter, and it definitely changed the way I think about food.

The last thing I will say about food: we believe in celebration. In the Jewish culture, God established times of feasting and celebration. Aaron and I think those times are still important for us today, times to commemorate what God has done and rejoice in the good things we've been given. Do we eat in celebratory fashion everyday? No. But, we'll likely never stop eating cake altogether, because the value of celebration means a lot to us!

No-spend November

2011-11-09T18:09:00.004-06:00

We are nine days into an experiment that I always thought would be the dog-poop of all experiments. I'd heard of others doing this experiment, and I'd watched from afar, thinking, "Noble, but that would stink."

And now we've stepped into the dog-poop, and it's not crap. I think I might have been standing in the crap all along.

We are not spending any money for 30 days. When I say "any money", there are obviously some exceptions. Food, yes. Toilet paper, yes. (We are down to one roll. I did think about leaves...there are so many on the ground right now.) 1 or 2 dates, yes. But anything else, no. Clothes, no. Knick-knacks for the house, no. Garage-saling, no. Online shopping, no.

The first day, I thought it would be interesting to make a list of all the things I would normally buy. I was working on a sewing project that night, and I reached a point where I wanted to hop in the car, drive the 10 minutes to Wal-mart, and pick up what I needed. I thought the project was a goner 'til December 1. But, I went through my sewing stash, and whadda you know, I found something that worked.

A revolutionary thought came out of that moment:

"I have never really had to make-do with what I have."

I thought of my grandparents. (Hey grandparents! Love you!) They grew up during the Great Depression. They know what it is to make-do. Even my momma, growing up in the 50s, knows. Abundance never outweighed leanness for her family of ten.

But knowing how to make-do is not the real issue at hand. I wanted this to be a post about that, how cool and exhilarating it is to make-do, to get creative, to start seeing what you have with a grateful heart. I even took a picture of a beautiful teacup in the perfect dusky light. Look there! When you don't spend, you find beautiful teacups you forgot you had, and you enjoy them.

That would have been a quaint blog post. I really did like that picture.

What I really have to tell you, though, what is beating inside me wildly and will not stop drumming, is the truth that my spending habits uncover what is in my heart. It's not just money and stuff and receipts. I would like to separate them out like that. But, no. When I stop spending, and I roll up the rugs to sweep up a little bit, I realize how messy and gross my heart has become.

Most of what I buy is about me.

About how I can be satisfied.

About how I can be fulfilled.

About how I can appear cooler to people, more fashionable and stylish.

About how I can feel like I've arrived, or I've made it.

And those motives? I can't take those motives lightly. I looked in the gospels, and Jesus pulled down woes upon such hearts. His Kingdom is the antithesis of motives like these.

But oh grace. Grace that He should bop me on the head hard for a life selfish and small, yet He doesn't. He uses my silly experiment to crumble my heart and stands ready to help with the rebuilding, a new blueprint at hand.

What He wants to do with us is far beyond us. Aaron always tells our K-Life kids, "There is a bigger story. You are part of it, but it is bigger than you." What He has given us is not for us. May our hearts always be broken when we realize that we have used His gifts for our own kingdoms.

I don't know completely what to expect from here on out. I'm not saying that we can't spend money and follow Jesus too. I'm not advocating a poverty theology. I'm just sayin' that I have, at times, been crazily piling stuff onto my back and looking in the mirror and taking pictures of my neat things and trying to follow Jesus.

It's so much easier to go unburdened.

This unexpected freedom, this joy I didn't see standing to meet me--they remind me of a yoke that was promised to be light.

I wanna wear that light yoke, and I wanna believe,

"It's all about Him."

What I thought I wanted

2011-11-01T07:14:00.006-05:00

When we returned from Tennessee two years and a handful of months ago, from the honeymoon of smoky hills and homemade breakfasts and sweet muscadine wine, we settled into the business of a boy and a girl living together.

I squeezed the toothpaste from the wrong end.

He left his socks in the strangest places.

And I woke up early alone and mourned it. The man I married does not wake up early. Nor does he drink coffee minutes after waking. These things I thought important, integral to the meshing of two lives into one. We would sit on the couch and watch the sun roll up from the ground. We would whisper hopes and dreams for the day and pray over steaming mugs of dark roast.

Somewhere in the last near-30 months, I let go.

I released that ridiculous expectation. Repeated mornings of pouncing on Aaron, sleeping curled under comforter, did not go well. Dragging him out of bed and thrusting some chai at him (his preferred hot drink of choice), did not produce the meaningful moments I had imagined.

In the waking alone, I have found great beauty and rest. It is my silent time, the hour of the day before anything else has woken to clamor and tug at my attention. It is my communion time, stillness to speak to God and silence to listen to God. And when I do hear the creaks of stirring, watch the old bedroom door struggle open, my heart is prepared to be something kind, something gracious, something generous to that man I gave my life to.

Funny how we make ourselves miserable sometimes to create what we think we need. What we refuse might actually be the better gift, given by a Father whose knowledge is deeper than ours.

the Wells come to Bolivar

2011-10-31T11:16:00.012-05:00

My best friend came to visit. She brought her best husband. Meet Dannon. They got married last year, and I told you about it in this post.

Together, they hauled along their best dog. Who, incidentally, if you take on a walk, will haul you along. Heel, Zeke, heel!

It was their first visit to our little home. We gave them a good time in Bolivar. If we lived in Chicago, or St. Louis, or even an artsy mountain town, we probably would have taken them to eat at an organic bakery, or a creperie, or a sushi bar. But we live in Bolivar, population 9,600, surrounded by farms and cows. So we took them to the best we've got.

McDonalds!

Mickey D's has really stepped up their coffee game the last few years. It ain't half bad. We were more interested in talking than in drinking coffee anyway.

But wait. It gets better. We drove 20 miles west to Stockton to visit the Squeeze Inn, which has the distinction of having been featured on the Food Network. There isn't a better place for a juicy burger with melted cheese oozing out all sides. This is how the Ozarks rolls.

At home, we went through 8 sticks of butter in four days. We're really not quite sure how that happened.

Kyndel shares my love for a good flea market, so we went to some of my favorites. She couldn't believe how cheap things were compared to Coloradan venues. This is why we live in Bolivar. Because I would take cheap treasures over sushi any day.

Other highlights of the visit which we caught on camera included dinner at my mom and dad's house,

watching the Georgia Dawgs beat up on Florida (let's be honest, this was a highlight that Dannon appreciated the most),

watching Aaron perfect some new modeling moves,

and the general giddiness and glee that comes with seeing your best friend who lives 700 miles away.

Highlights not caught in picture but equally sweet: watching movies in our favorite PJ pants, having someone who loves fixing hair around to do my own, walking quiet streets to look at fall colors, warm mugs of wassail and tea glued to our hands.

We love the Wells! We loved our four days spent with them. It's always a little hard to return to real life after a mini-vacation with dearly loved friends.

Therefore,

Y'all come back soon now, you hear?

Fall 2011

2011-10-26T09:04:00.002-05:00

Well, it's Aaron. It has been crazy around here. Crazy in a good way. Cannot believe it is our 3rd year doing K-Life and our 3rd fall Lara and I have been married. So here is a little update on life:

We've planted a sweet garden and the produce has be great. Thanks to the fam for watering during the drought days of summer. We covered our tomatoes during a couple nights of frost and now we have some really orange/red ones ready to pick in the next couple days. There is nothing like eating something you have seen start from seed and now producing fruit and getting to enjoy it.

We are having a beautiful fall. Lara and I went for a walk tonight. Windy but peaceful. There is something about the wind that reminds me of God's workings and ways. Loving the colors and weather.

Now here are some highlights of the past month or so...

Halloween Klub: We were the "Grapes of Wrath". Too bad none of our kids got it. What do they teach in school these days?

Lara inspiring Martha Stewart

Pumpkin Carving with our leaders

The pumpkin rally squirrel makes its appearance

Pumpkins galore

Lara will have to post some of here creations she has made.

Now we are getting ready to see Dannon and Kyndel... finally!

five things

2011-10-17T11:46:00.009-05:00

My mom told me the other day that she checks my blog three times a day to she if I've written. I love you, Mom! Moms are great fans. If no one else is reading this little library of thoughts, Mom is.

That being said, I don't have glorious inspiration for this blog post. Just feel the urge to get something else up so all y'all who check three times a day have some new material. :) Aaron has a post in the works, but it's still in the works. Aaron? How's that coming?

Let's go with the number format today.

1. We are currently in the car driving home from Kansas. Is it not amazing that we can get internet in the car?

2. My little brother turned 22. He is awesome. He volunteers with K-Life, and I have it on good authority that at least 70% of the young girls with work with have major crushes on him. He's funny, handsome, polite, and godly. What a guy. Also. When your little bro who is five years younger than you turns 22, you realize you're not in college anymore. This realization is only now becoming clear to me.

3. I've been doing loads of fun fall baking. I made these, which I give a 7/10.

And this, which I give a 9.5/10.

And this, which I give a 8/10.

4. I got a job at the local tea shop. It's a sweet little place, and I work great hours that still allow me to be involved in K-Life. We are saving up all my wages for our World Tour 2012, which I'll have to devote a whole blog post to sometime. That brings me to number...

5. I miss these guys a ton.

it's a three ring circus over here

2011-10-04T00:30:00.003-05:00

I am up way past my bedtime.

Midnight has come and gone here in the CST, but I just can't stop. I made myself a headband, ironed some pillow shams, organized some papers, and unloaded the dishwasher.

Do have those days where you mull something over all day long, and whatever you're doing--sewing, check, ironing, check, organizing, check, unloading, check--that thought is constantly hoisting itself up over the windowsill and plopping onto your mind's floor?

I came across two things on the internet today that have sat down and stayed with me.

1) This video on Jon Acuff's blog, Stuff Christians Like. It's a famous atheist's reaction to being given a Bible, and it's not what you're expecting. I love the part where he says, "How much do you have to hate me to not proselytize me?" I've nearly cried thinking of those words a couple times today. This man had a five minute encounter with the love of Christ, and although I don't think he believes in Christ (yet!), there was something about that exchange that gripped him. The love of God is gripping, people. Do we believe that? Who have we thought too far gone for Love to reach? No.one.is.out.of.reach. We speak; He saves. And yet we think we have the hard part...

Go watch the video and see if it doesn't change the way you think about sharing Christ.

2) The second thing was mournful for me. It just plain made me sad. While catching up on a blog I sometimes read, I found a post in which the author lambasted a popular Christian pastor. The issue of disagreement was poverty and how we as Christians are called to live in light of the world's extreme poverty. The post and the following comments were angry and sometimes, biting. Does poverty hurt the heart of God? Absolutely. But it is not the only thing that hurts His heart...

Aaron and I had a chance to have a great conversation about the issue, and out of that and some quiet time thinking tonight, I have a few concrete thoughts.

When we identify a problem in the church, we have to honestly ask: "How am I a part of this?" The temptation is to find someone else who is worse than us and then write off our own sin. Regarding poverty, we want to sidle a glance over at those rich people, you know, the ones with SUVs and mansions and huge bank accounts, and say, "Well, that's not me. I must be more on track with Jesus than they are." We're probably less on track, actually. Aaron and I live in a small house, but I struggle with materialism on a daily basis. I need the Holy Spirit to continually convict me of my sins of greed and idolatry. My heart can be just as messy or more messy than the millionaire's.

Others' sin should grieve us, not make us feel better about ourselves. When we do see sin in others' lives, it should hurt our hearts! Judgment breeds when we see another's sin and use it to congratulate ourselves on our good behavior.

In a disagreement with a believer, address the issue instead of attacking the man. We will disagree on doctrinal issues. When you look at the two millennia of church history, that's pretty much a given. But at the end of the day, that person with whom you've come to a theological roadblock is still your brother or sister.

In all things, love. No doctrine or practice is more important than love. Paul makes that pretty clear in the beginning of 1st Corinthians 13. Maybe you're right. And yet you win that battle and lose the only one that really matters.

It keeps me up late, but I love wrestling through stuff like this. At the end of theological struggles, my mantra is: It's all about Him. It's all about Him, and we are not the leading actors in this play.

Fall Bucket List

2011-10-01T19:43:00.005-05:00

I'm totally stealing this idea from one of the blogs I really enjoy, b*spoke. Bethany, the author of b*spoke, writes a bucket list for each season. I love her lists and her follow-up posts with stories and pictures.

A fall bucket list seems like a great idea to fully live this season, especially when my heart is not entirely present this season. I think my sister accidentally packed about half of it. (Um, sis, could you look around for it?) I want to be here. I want to breathe in and notice the breath. I want to magnify God as I experience His world. I want to show up for my life, not sit outside and wait for the right time to buy a ticket.

Here's the list, simple and full of small things, but He is in all the things; have you noticed?

Fall Bucket List - 2011

make pumpkin butter
play in leaves
go for country drive to look at colors
use our firepit once a week
take a friend for pumpkin spice lattes
write letters with pretty fall themes
host a soup party
go to a small-town fall festival
run another 1/2 marathon
make a fall memory book (inspired by this blogger)
pick apples

Buying

2011-09-29T12:19:00.005-05:00

Aaron and I are saving up for a trip to see my sister and her family next summer.

Thinking about saving for the trip has brought some questions to mind about how I spend my money. I'm not a saver. I'm a spender. I always tell people that if I were rich and didn't follow Jesus, I would shop ALL THE TIME. I would buy so many clothes and pretty things that I wouldn't know what to do with them all. I love shopping.

But we're not rich, and I happen to believe in a God who asks us to store up treasure in heaven. So that kind of puts two dampers on the life-long shopping spree idea.

We do have enough wiggle room in the budget for me to shop sometimes. The truth is, I don't buy with very much wisdom or discretion. God is using my desire to visit my sister and my niece and nephew to show me my weakness in this area.

A few questions arose out of all these thoughts. I'm going to ask these questions before I buy.

1. Will I be using this/still think it's cool in a year?

2. Do I want it more than a trip to see Rachel?

3. Do I want it because of a sinful motive (pride, vanity)?

4. Will it foster idolatry in an area I am already weak in?

If you have any more good questions to ask about spending or any good saving tips, send 'em our way!

notes from the grieving hour

2011-09-27T08:37:00.007-05:00

Various journalings and quotes from the last week. Transparent and raw and still the middle of the story. The ending is yet to come. Praise Him.

"Yesterday was a hard day with thinking about my dear ones moving. I broke into tears several times. Jesus, this feels like a breakup or a death. The sorrow of losing that person from everyday life. It sucks. I am not sure I want this part of following You. I've always read Your words in the gospels about forsaking family as going--and I came to a place of surrender in saying, 'I will go, I will give up that comfort and that gift and the security of family for You, Jesus.' But I guess in the going, I felt it was still my choice a little, and here, there is no choice. The being left is the part I did not reckon for.

Oh what new things do You want to teach us, Lord--the new sacrifice, the new cut, the new ache--these are to conform us to Your image. I know in the end, though I wrestle and grapple, the only answer left to me is the 'yes.' Yes, I have counted the cost of being left, and You and Your Kingdom are still worth it.

Please bring me to that place soon. It is so hard. But You know. You know the going (Incarnation) and the being left (naked on a cross)."

"Since the children have flesh and blood, He too shared in their humanity." (Heb 2:14)

"He had to be made like His brothers in every way, in order that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest." (Heb 2:17)

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and grace to help us in our time of need." (Heb 4:16)

"What if they die?

What if I never see them again?

What if they hurt?

What if they forget me?

Was it worth it to love them? Absolutely. I would not take back a single day of loving them, being near them. Though it will rip harder, it is worth it.

Go before them, O God of Jacob. You who prepare the way for thousands of years, go before them. And make them as strong and courageous as Joshua."

"I sobbed three times today. The memories of those precious ones are everywhere. Yesterday, I asked You,

WHY? Why do You have to use people to accomplish the spread of Your Kingdom? Why couldn't You just use angels or visions or whatever? There's infinite ways You could think of. You're God.

Why does it have to be lives, four lives that matter very much to a small circle left in a small town in North America?

The Kingdom of God advances through sacrifice and tears

and hearts breaking

and even blood.

I do not know why this is the template, but it is."

"God's economy is strange....But I am a catechized lady and I know: He is He who fills the shuttle, who plies the loom, and has a billion strands to weave into His tapestry. Here are Rachel and Leah on one level, conniving and competing for Jacob's love. And when the smoke clears, here is God on another level, and the 12 tribes of Israel standing all in a row. He is building His kingdom. I know it in my head...and I would trade all of that sanctification just to have you back for one day. But that's because I'm finite and sinful and see but through a glass darkly." (Andree Seu)

"I believe you'll outlive this pain in your heart

And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart

It's gonna be all right

It's gonna be all right" (Sara Groves)

our joy

2011-09-07T11:25:00.005-05:00

"I remember walking these halls," I whisper to Aaron. Standard gray concrete-block walls, blue speckled tile floor, a ramp matted in brown rubber. I'm in eighth grade again, wearing that army green sweater and braces, not sure of where to part my hair. My eyebrows need plucking, but who knows how to pluck their eyebrows in eight grade?

It's funny how fresh the memories feel, how these halls unscrew memory jars I haven't touched in years. We're heading to the gym to hang with middle schoolers during their free period. Middle school, though I am near 27 now, slams me with all the emotion of that tough season: insecurity, self-consciousness, uncertainty.

The gym is crowded. The boys and the athletic girls are bouncing around basketballs, forming pick-up games at either end of the court. The girls that aren't athletic walk the perimeter in groups of three or four. I spot a couple of girls I know from K-Life, and I am relieved. No one wants to be alone in that gym, not even me. We chat a few minutes, and they continue ambling, round and round, fading into free period with all their might.

She sits alone on the bleachers, a short girl with strawberry blonde hair and a red t-shirt.

"Hi, I'm Lara. What's your name?"

Her name is Michelle, and for a girl sitting solo on a creaky wooden seat, she likes to talk. "I scrapbooked with my mom Saturday, and we scrapbooked all day, from 8 to 6:30, and finally, I was like, 'Mom, you have to stop scrapbooking!' I had to make her stop, I was just so tired of scrapbooking."

I laughed.

We talk of other things, deeper things, unanswered questions her young life already pulls behind her like a heavy wagon. I am surprised she is sharing so openly, me a stranger fifteen minutes ago. I am surprised by her confession that it is hard for her to make friends. She is spunky, she is funny, she is sweet. She has a beautiful smile.

She is the beloved, you know. She is a masterpiece wrought by Him.

Middle school is not the place to showcase masterpieces. Here, you just want to blend in, look like the cool kids, hit the ball when it's time for P.E.

"Middle school will be over soon," I want to tell her. "And there's a great, huge, loving God so much bigger than this hot gym. He knows your name and calls to you. And though you can't believe it yet, His opinion of you is the final answer, not these estimations here and now."

I don't say it, for the bell has rung, and the herd drifts to the double doors, back to class. "I'll see you next time, girl," I say, and she smiles and filters into the crowd.

On my run later, I pray. I pray hard for her precious, innocent heart. I'm left with a glorious weight, a reminder pressed hard into my heart like a fossil. His image is in us. In all the people, everywhere.

I could cry with the joy of this. It is not a project, not a list of to-do. It is His life spouting out of us: the privilege of seeing humanity as He does, the gift of telling His story, the best story.

That story, it can seep strong, seep through the strongest of standard gray concrete walls.

respect (and a little meat doesn't hurt either)

2011-09-06T08:28:00.009-05:00

I know it's the thesis of untold Christian marriage books, making it a little cliche, but it's also straight from the Bible and true in our marriage. So, cliche or not, here we go.

Girls thrive on love; guys thrive on respect.

I love love...ooey gooey gushy mushy adoring love. If Aaron gave me a note every morning detailing what he loved about me, I would fly about on wings all day. (He does write me a lot of sweet notes, by the way.)

So naturally, when we first got married, I made sure to shower him with every ounce of the sweet nothings I myself hoped for. "I love you, honey." "I love you sooo much, honey." "You're so handsome, baby." (Are you rolling your eyes yet?) But these things don't fill him up or encourage him the way they do for me.

The tank-filler for him is respect. And more in action than in word. Every guy is different--I soon discovered that Aaron doesn't appreciate affirmation in public. If I brag on him in front of people, it just embarrasses him. I don't get that; I'd love the whole world to know how awesome I am. So I tell him in private. "I really respect you for the wisdom with which you make decisions." He knows I mean it when I don't turn around and undercut his next decision. "I respect you, honey, but that's a really dumb choice, and here, let me give you five reasons why my choice is better." Uh, no.

I'm like a jerky, tipsy, chubby (had to throw that adjective in there) baby learning to walk when it comes to respect. I get a couple steps out, and then I fall splat on my face and decide to throw a fit about it. Yeah. So I have a lot to learn.

There's respect, and then there's meat. My sister was telling me the other day about how much protein a pregnant woman has to eat. (Mom and Dad, I'm not pregnant.) "You'll have to chart your protein, Lara, or you won't get enough. You'll need so much protein," she said. Aaron overheard, and he perked up quicker than a dog that just saw a squirrel.

"Babe! Maybe you should get pregnant, and then we can eat meat every day!" His eyes were shining like a car waxed by the Karate Kid. (Great simile, eh?)

Poor guy. He married a girl that could become a vegetarian any day and never look back. I need to give the guy more beef and bacon. I'm pretty sure chicken only counts as a half-meat to most guys.

He had a birthday last week, and we had STEAK. He nearly cried.

So moved.

There you have it ladies. I've only been married for a couple years, so take it from the mouth of babes...

Respect and steak.

The secret to a happy marriage.

65 years

2011-09-05T09:33:00.012-05:00

65 years ago,

It's A Wonderful Life was made
gas cost 21 cents a gallon

Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby crooned
the St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series
the Slinky was one year old
Harry S. Truman was president
women wore dresses and tight curls

men defined dapper

and my grandparents, Carroll Milton Casey and Marcella Jean Pinnick, tied the knot on a Sunday morning.

She wore a smart two-piece suit, and he wore a suit that was "the most beautiful shade of blue." They were married in a church 6 miles away from her small town. There was no separate room for the bride to wait, so she and her attendant, Ruby, huddled behind the church's front door. Grandpa stood at the front with the pastor and hoped that Grandma were hear the first chord of the organ, her signal to begin walking. Ruby wouldn't walk the aisle herself, so Grandma went down with her!

We celebrated my grandparents' 65th wedding anniversary last weekend. 65 years is a long time. The changes they've seen over the span of their marriage are many. But the God they serve has not changed. His love is constant over miles of inflation and progress and heartache and a world spinning and a family growing and swelling. It was just two people that early fall day in Kansas, and now it's 21 people and counting. We celebrate, and under everything--the laughter and jokes and moments of tension--the Everlasting Arms hold strong, and there's grace, grace enough to outlast the next 65 years.

Still looks pretty dapper in a suit, doesn't he?

And she looks lovely yet.

Happy 65th Anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa! We love you!

when the best you have reminds you of what's better

2011-09-01T08:01:00.008-05:00

Have you ever tried to get a two year old and a four year old to smile just so?

It's nearly impossible.

This was the best we could wrangle, and this after five tries.

I'm making a memory book for my niece and nephew. Soon, they will live in another country. I suppose the day count is down to the twenties, but I'm not counting. My coping mechanism right now is avoidance, so I try not to dwell on the particulars. September 26? One big fat abstraction.

As you can gather from last night's photo op, the little ones were feeling a bit persnickety. My sister is trying to help them process this big change, but it's hard for a tiny heart to put words to emotions. So they're a little off, and I want to squeeze them close in a forever hug, but when you're a little off, the last thing you want is a perpetual cuddle.

This morning, before the sun capped the treetops and broke blazing hot, I sat on the porch swing praying. "They don't even understand how I love them, Lord," I scribbled with my favorite pen. "I want them to understand. The width, the tenderness, the fierceness I feel for them. I want this knowledge to cocoon them shoulder to shoulder."

And the quiet reply, "Isn't that how I feel?"

It's the too-good tale we are told but half dare to believe: that a heavenly Father's love would exceed our best earthly love.

I think of how I love Abby and Drew. I physically ache with love for them, and it's hard to conceive of a love stronger.

But here I am with my scaly fish, and there He is with a gift that crushes darkness and whispers truth and overwhelms with life (Luke 11: 11-12).

He aches for us to know. As I bend over my precious ones, yearning for them to get the love that billows over and rushes under them, He bends lower, yearns harder.

My deepest desire for Abby and Drew is that they know and love Christ. Right now, their parents make a decision that sprouts from this soil, and their children will grow up in the shadow of that choice. What a beautiful thing! Does it hurt my heart? Yes. Has the grieving just begun? Yes. Would I ever keep them from such a sweet inheritance, from their earliest memories forming under the awning of living sacrifice? Never.

I love you, my dear ones.

And in my meager love,

I remember

His.

God bless the zinnias

2011-08-23T20:20:00.007-05:00

A scorching hot summer + leaving for 6 weeks = sadness and sorrow for the garden.

As my sister said, "Why did you plant so many flowers when you knew you were leaving?"

Why sister, I was wondering the same thing.

Bless my sister and mother, who came over as much as they could to water. But when the weather is 100 degrees glued tight to three weeks, what can be done?

Only a few plants died for good and gone. A coneflower, some dahlias, a cardinal lobelia, and that delphinium that wasn't in the budget in the first place. It was accursed.

The strawberry oxalis is making a comeback.

The irises are brown and have holes in their leaves.

The astible never bloomed.

The black-eyed Susan made a valiant effort.

The salvia looks great. Almost like it didn't have to live through a Missouri summer. Almost as if I asked Aaron to squeeze a few plants into a Honda Civic plump with suitcases and bikes and camping gear. You don't take plants on roadtrips? Weird.

But the zinnias. Oh the zinnias. Two packets of $1.00 Wal-mart seed never looked so good.

I love the zinnias. I am forever allied with them. They are happy, bright, heat-loving, and the more you pick them, the more they bloom. What's not to love about them?

Come April, buy a package of zinnia seeds. Scatter them in some scratched up soil. Water when you remember.

Come August, you will feel like you are a real gardener after all.

Meet Me in St. Louie, Louie

2011-08-17T10:46:00.014-05:00

We spent a couple of days in St. Louis last week before we hit home. It was delightful. There is something about travel that makes me feel so alive and spiritually alert. Little changes for a few days bring me such joy and open my heart to see God's Kingdom from a new angle.

We left Lake City at four in the morning last Wednesday. We were on the road at the same time those fugitives from Florida were caught in Southern Colorado. I give this detail to spice up the 14 hour drive to Kansas City, which really was quite ho-hum. Except for the part when Aaron rolled up the window on my toes.

We rolled into suburban KC about 10:30 at night and pulled ourselves out of bed at 6 ayem the night morning to board the AMTRAK! We rode a train to St. Louis! How stinkin' fun is that? We figured between gas and parking fees in St. Louis, we'd have spent about as much to drive.

Priceline came through with a sweet hotel deal...

and we spent the next two days EATING!

Crepes and

Italian and

gelato and

leftovers in the park.

We went only to places within walking distance.

Old courthouse and

old post office and

the Gateway Arch.

It was an awesome trip, and we return to Bolivar with joy and peace. Each day is a gift, and whether we're living the good life in Louie or getting back in the groove of work, we are blessed!

family time

2011-08-05T12:26:00.014-05:00

It has been a great couple weeks of family time!

My mom and dad were able to come spend 4 days with us, and Rachel, Nathan, and kids were able to hop over for a day and a half during a break from a conference in Colorado Springs. This made almost one whole Casey clan; Peter was at Kanakuk doing good work. We missed you, bro!

The Windy Point overlook. Some switchbacks to ascend, but an awesome view at the top. Right, sis? :) I was in the background doing my Russian/clown dance to pull out those smiles.

Look at that little guy! Is it any wonder I melt under his influence? "Hodo me, Lara!" Translated, "Hold me, Lara." OF COURSE!

The men dominated some horseshoes, and Abby hit Poppa square in the head with hers.

A last breakfast at the bakery with my parents.

Ryan, Aaron's brother, came to visit us about a week after my parents left. He got in around 10 at night, and 7 hours later, we dragged him out of bed to hike Mt. Wetterhorn with us. Mt. Wetterhorn was the last local fourteener we needed to summit. It is the most technical of the five fourteeners scattered around Lake City, but with some slow, steady grips we made it to the top!

Around 5:30 in the morning, right after we realized our borrowed Jeep wouldn't make it to the trailhead. Luckily, the early parking only tacked on 1/2 mile to our hike.

There's the mount, dominating the horizon.

The last hundred feet of steep ascent.

And we made it! Such an exhilarating rush to stand on a doorstep of the heavens and see this any way you turn:

A few days later, Aaron and Ryan biked the entire Alpine Loop, a distance of 50 miles and an elevation climb of over 5,500 feet. What powerhouses!

Standing at the top of Cinnamon Pass, one of two passes they had to climb on the loop.

We leave for Missouri in two days. So in the next 48 hours, we will be living up the ice-cream mountain life! Peace out and we'll see all you Bolivar people soon!

Sometimes Pictures Don't Do It Justice

2011-08-02T13:02:00.004-05:00

We can't believe it's almost over! We leave next Wednesday to head back for a short trip to St. Louis before the whirlwind of Bolivar begins. We are excited to be back but ready for a moment of rest in between. We have loved being in Lake City and seeing our friends Nick and Brittany, the Casey and Hamann clans, and my brother in a few hours.

This is a blog that I wrote July 27th but haven't been able to post because of internet stuff.

Well, I have a feeling this is long overdue. Today, Lara and I woke up and hiked 4 miles up the mountain ledge to Crystal Lake, situated directly under Crystal Peak.

This was my favorite hike next to Cataract Gulch (a trail that follows a cataract up to the Continental Divide and Cataract Lake). It had a great view of town, Red Mountain and the surrounding peaks, aspen groves, and great climbs. By the end, you’ve arrived at a serene lake, quiet and peaceful.

Of course, we brought our new camera to capture views, things we did, etc. As we walked down, we discussed our next invention (as if we have invented other gadgets and gizmos): the smell camera. Walking past pines, flowers, breezes off the lake, we wanted to capture all the aromas. Candles don’t do it justice, just as a picture doesn’t do the actual view justice.

Which brings me to a thought I’ve been mulling around in my small, insignificant mind the last couple weeks.

As you can tell, some of these pictures are posed - set in a certain way, ordered, etc. The self timer has been a great invention to capture everyone while having no one behind the camera. But as we walked through the mountains, we stop to pose at so many places. Later on we can relive those moments captured through a shutter. But I know my own tendencies. Notice this picture (which I also have/will have up on Facebook). Epic picture. On the edge of the cliff, gazing off into the world, the mountains wild behind. Can’t say that Lara caught this candid. Would I be out on that ledge if I knew Lara wasn’t going to take that picture? Um... probably not. I’m not big on steep stuff just for the fun of it. But I wanted epic... at least hoping people would think me epic. The truth is, I spent 15 seconds out there. Not enough time to ponder world peace. Not enough time to find the answer to end poverty. Just enough time to get a picture.

I am a person infatuated with myself. I want to portray a picture to people by my pictures, updates, etc. I want to create. Create myself in some way, any way. I think back on the college days and wonder what it would be like to enjoy those friends, memories. I want to recreate it.

“Wait, wait... go back to that spot. That’s perfect. Great picture.” Well, that moment was passed. That thought, that face, that overwhelmness by the mountains is over. But let’s capture it. Let’s try to recreate it.

Now, I’m not bashing pictures. There is a great place to remember. We are commanded to remember. We want to remember. But we also want to relive. And what I’ve found in myself is sin in those moments. I have ceased to allow God to create, allowing Him to be the Creator. I become the creator of those moments, memories. “I think it would be better off this way.” “It was way better the way I experienced it before.”

In pictures, I find myself not looking at the lake, but at the picture just taken of the lake, even though the lake is right there! I forget about listening to the wind and birds in my hammock, but think about how cool of a Facebook status this would be and what others would think. I stop thinking about the Creator and start thinking about the created (myself, the pictures).

One of my favorite memories of being out in Lake City was doing a midnight hike with my brother and a couple of buddies up Handies Peak. The moonlight was overpowering, the shadows casting off the ridges. I will never forget how little I felt, how powerful God was, how amazed by His creation I was. I tried painting it once (I am a terrible painter so it wasn’t good), but I couldn’t get it to a point where it was real. We draw still life pictures because they try to capture something that we get a glimpse of in the picture, but experience in reality. C.S. Lewis talks describes a painter who painted because He wanted to tell people about light. He was overwhelmed with its power and wanted others to know.

What I’m trying to say is, are we allowing God to be the Creator in our lives, in our experiences or are we trying to take control? With our pictures, our memories, our “creations”, what are we telling people? Are we telling people how epic we are? Are we creating to portray ourselves in a certain light?

Or are we describing how epic our Creator is, trying to describe just a glimpse of who He is.

May pictures never do your life justice. May our God do your life justice.

P.S. For the smell camera, we are going to have to work out the kinks (i.e. not allowing people to capture bad smells and use them against others, etc). Any ideas?

Sharing this sweet town

2011-07-17T11:33:00.006-05:00

Another post that was written about a month ago but never posted due to Internet difficulties...

the beautiful San Juans

This is the view from my lawn chair this morning. There is no better place for summer rejuvenation than our dear Lake City. We've been here for 3 weeks now, and are halfway done. That's the trouble with living life in two different places: I was sad to leave Bolivar to wend west, but in three weeks, I will be sad to drive the highway home.

We have been busy working, working, working, along with some reading, hiking, and hanging out with friends, all of which we've generously sprinkled with healthy doses of ice-cream.

Our friends Nick and Brittany came to visit last week. We loved sharing our mountain life with them! They just returned from half a year in China, and are now moving to Topeka. We wish they weren't leaving Bolivar, as they were the couple we would call for last minute dinners, game nights, or movie dates. Finding couple friends that really click is harder than finding single friends, and Nick and Brit were a huge part of our fellowship in Bolivar.

Any visit to LC has to include an introduction to the soda shop.

I got to use Brittany's nice camera for a few minutes and pretend I was a real photographer.

We took them up Cataract Gulch, one of our favorite hikes.

My family comes in for a visit this weekend, which we're excited about! It is fun for Aaron and I to share this place that's laid down a claim in our hearts.

There aren't too many more updates. Life here is a mosaic of ordinary and breathtaking things. It's everyday life bubble-wrapped with a little more rest and beauty than we're used to.

We are blessed.

A Quick Update

2011-07-07T12:26:00.004-05:00

Hey from Lake City! This is just a glimpse of what we get to look at every day. For the last week or so, it's been snowing.... snowing cotton. Super excited about seeing some awesome people in the next weeks. It has been nice being free from cell phones, computers, and even some tv. Traded it in for some ice cream, biking, mountains, hikes, and reading. Eight thumbs up (if I had eight thumbs... which would be a bit awkward).

Blessings.

One Year with Photobooth

2011-06-23T17:55:00.015-05:00

I thought it would be fun to do a "Year in Review" post using only pictures from Photobooth.

As I was compiling the pictures, I realized two things.

1) We really like to take pictures of ourselves.

2) Because of Photobooth, we have a lot of quirky, silly pictures of the last year. I like that.

This is right after we got back from Colorado and the first picture we took on Photobook. I made that shirt with a bleach pen. It was a really fun shirt until it stretched out. I am blaming the big blue box store it came from...Wal-mart...cough, cough.

Our interpretation of American Gothic by Grant Wood. Is anyone else a little freaked out by the ax?

This is always the face I make when Aaron kisses me. Always.

Excited! Maybe about going on a date? Yay for Date Day Wednesday! The picture behind me I got for a QUARTER at a garage sale. It's an original oil painting. Believe in the power of the garage sale, people.

After a run. Photobooth is up for documenting all kinds of situations.

Aaron caught the moon. And he has a hole in his cheek.

What's better than one Aaron? Two Aarons.

Date at Panera!

Honey, you are looking so handsome.

Kristen, I loved it when you came to visit. This is probably the only picture of us where you look taller.

Sister time! Rach is not as vain as I am, but she tolerated one Photobooth picture.

And that's our year through the Cyclops eye of our MacBook.

tasks and anniversaries

2011-06-22T10:10:00.014-05:00

As my sister and I have grown into adults, we've had several laughs about how task-oriented we are. My sister has always bent toward this, but it's very humorous that I now lean towards lists, structure, order, and accomplishing as much as possible in a day. Anyone who knew me as a child sees the humor in that. We think we inherit the task trait from our lovely Mom, who taught us how to work hard and always has a project in hand. With three days left until Aaron and I migrate to Colorado for the rest of the summer, my list is long and my hopes are high. Today, I was going to finish sewing some curtains and a new duvet for our bedroom. True, we won't be here for the next six weeks to enjoy them, but I would feel so settled just knowing it was done and waiting for us upon return...ol' Kenny the Kenmore has other ideas. His idea is to break. Super.

Elizabeth Elliot, one of my favorite authors, also shares the task gene. She writes,

"One morning my computer simply would not obey me. What a nuisance. I had my work laid out, my timing figured, my mind all set. My work was delayed, my timing thrown off, my thinking interrupted. Then I remember. IT was not for nothing. This was part of the Plan (not mine, His). Lord, You have assigned me my portion and my cup.

Now if the interruption had been a human being instead of an infuriating mechanism, it would not have been so hard to see it as the most important part of the work of the day. But all is under my Father's control: yes, recalcitrant computers, faulty transmissions, drawbridges which happen to be up when one is in a hurry. My portion. My cup. My lot is secure. My heart can be at peace. My Father is in charge. How simple!"

You can find me there today: not at my sewing table, but at the place of simple rest. The kaputt sewing machine is not out of His control. Seems silly to say, but there is peace. He knows my day. Here's my list.

Mom, first, thanks for teaching us how to work hard--it's not a bad thing! Second, here are the anniversary pictures you requested. Aaron took me to Eureka Springs, Arkansas, last weekend to celebrate two years of marriage. Gotta celebrate the little ones on the way to the big ones!

Aaron picked out Elk Street Cottage without any help from yours truly. The whole trip was a surprise; I couldn't get it out of him because now he understands that although I ask, I don't really want to know.

We spent most of our time in this darling house. I kept saying things like, "Ooo, check out this woodwork," or "I would just die if I had cabinets like these!" Aaron is used to me gushing about antique house features, and all my exclamations only proved that he picked the right place.

But, seriously, check out those kitchen cabinets and that farmhouse sink.

And a French press just the size for one,

and cozy nooks everywhere you turned,

and wildflowers in the front and rocking chairs on the porch,

and lounging on the couch with ceiling fan whirring above.

Saturday night we dressed up, made a steak dinner, and stayed in. Coincidence that our steak is in the shape of a HEART? Even the cows knew it was the time for love.

After dinner, I talked Aaron into taking ridiculous amounts of self-timer pictures. Haha. Truly fun for me, maybe not quite the thrill for my dear husband, who was already staying in a very dainty cottage for the weekend. :)

This picture says it all. I heart him. What a guy.

Good news/bad news

2011-06-10T22:06:00.003-05:00

The good news is that I'm painting the dining room Oatland Subtle Taupe from Lowe's.

The bad news is that it's almost identical to the gallon of Walmart's Geneva Swan Gray which I decided wasn't quite right.

The bad news is that Aaron said I had to use painter's tape.

The good news is that I think it will peel the grime off the baseboards which I never got around to spring cleaning.

The good news is we pulled the massive antique piano out from the wall and now I can clean the floor underneath.

The bad news is it smells like a dead animal died in the back of it. (Aaron, can you tape the woodwork behind the piano, because I'm kind of afraid to go back there? Thanks, babe.)

The bad news is that when I ask my husband if I can buy a new delphinium that is such a pretty shade of blue, he says, "Do we have money in the budget? If we do, sure." And I have to stall the answer while I try to figure out how to make money drop from the sky into the gardening envelope.

The good news is that delphiniums are very hard to grow.

The good news is that I'm writing on my blog after a long silence.

The bad news is that my paintbrush is drying out.

Pictures of the subtle taupy goodness of our dining room to come soon...

h o p e

2011-05-28T08:29:00.002-05:00

A quick thought on my heart this morning.

(Just a peek into real life: I am sitting here shredding our old phone book to add to the compost pile. Haha. Our garden and the ridiculous things I do to help it along are whole 'nother blog post.)

This last week has hurt. Finding out of the deaths of two people on the peripheries of our acquaintence on Saturday and then going to bed on Sunday only to wake up to the destruction of Joplin. Add to that a sky full of rain and clouds, and the week has been nothing but heavy. I've been thinking a lot about Jesus' return. You might have caught tale of that crazy guy in California who convinced his followers Jesus was coming back at 6 p.m., and surprise, no one showed up, and now the world ridicules. That's okay. One crazy guy does not change the truth that I believe and long for: Jesus is coming back. No man knows the hour, but He will come, and these earth-things that make me wring my hands and cry will be swallowed up in the advent of a new kingdom. I was in Isaiah this morning:

" A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
² The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of might,
the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD—
³ and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
⁴ but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
⁵ Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.

⁶ The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling^[a] together;
and a little child will lead them.
⁷ The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
⁸ The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.
⁹ They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORD
as the waters cover the sea.

¹⁰ In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious."

-Isaiah 11:1-10

I read this passage to Aaron with tears brinking. The scope of sin has affected even the way animals interact with each other. We feel it deep down, in the basements of our souls, every day: the world is is not the way it was made to be. But for those who follow Christ, the hope is that it will not always be this way.

And then I thought of all the things I worry about. Namely, the deaths of people I love. I won't go into all the scenarios I imagine...

But, today my heart has peace and hope that nothing, nothing, nothing can change what will someday be when Christ locks sin and death away forever. If all my worst fears came true, there is a greater truth still. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, and the truest and best life is yet to come.

I hope this encourages you today. When you take a look at the world, despair is inescapable. When you take a look at Christ, hope is undeniable.

Take a look at Him today, my friends.

The Last Hurrah (but there will be another)

2011-05-01T10:11:00.007-05:00

A couple of months ago, I had an early morning epiphany. (I love the word epiphany; it is probably one of my top ten favorite words. Now that would be a fun list to make.) I dashed off an email to my three dear friends, and I'll let y'all read it in its unedited glory:

"OH MY GOSH I HAVE HAD AN AMAZING IDEA I LIKE TO THINK OF IT AS DIVINE INTERVENTION AND YOU GUYS BETTER LOVE IT JUST AS MUCH!

Literally I am like bouncing off the walls right now.

Okay this idea came to me this morning during my morning devos, so I really think it might be from Jesus. :)

Kristen and Nicole are already planning to be in OKC for the Nomads conference April 29-May 1. So that just means that if Kyndel and I could get there, we could have a foursome reunion of the sweetest proportions before K and Nic leave for the Asian continent!!!!!!"

I really do believe the idea was from Jesus.

Somehow, He made last week's reunion happen, and we were all able to sneak away for a few days from our lives in Kansas, Colorado, Texas, and Missouri.

Our friendship is about to turn 8 this year. I wrote about these women here, when we celebrated Kyndel's wedding in October. For four years, we were able to race down the hallway or, at most, across campus, to share something exciting or ask for prayer or cry or jump crazy from couch to couch.

For the next four years, we did those same things over Facebook, email, cell phone calls, and weekend reunions.

Things are about to change.

I tear up when I think about the changes coming. Nicole and Kristen are both moving before summer's end. In the world's judgement, it would seem they are throwing their young and lovely lives away. Moving to countries where oppression and poverty abound is not exactly most people's idea of a good life. I am so proud of my friends who are following Jesus into the hardest earthly circumstances, and who do so with joy and excitement and peace.

So we met in Oklahoma City for three days, and we laughed and remembered and prayed and even argued a little. (Making matching shirts at 12 am was maybe not the best timing...)

We ate our way through Oklahoma City. Thai and tacos and cupcakes and Chik-fil-a and Cheesecake Factory take-out.

We shared marriage stories and prayer needs. Tears were shed, and it was so sweet! (Only a woman would write that sentence.) There are few things more cathartic than crying in the presence of a comfortable friend.

I love you, girls. You have been the presence of Christ to me in some of my darkest hours. You spur me on. You make me want to love our God more.

From the seat of 3rd grade, the world is not right

2011-04-19T16:37:00.002-05:00

Today I subbed for a third grade class. It was awful. I can't describe it any other way. Subbing always reminds me how much I respect men and women who have chosen teaching as a career. This class was full of hurting little boys. At 9, hurt comes out in disrespect, defiance, noncompliance, and a host of other displays that make the sub want to hide under the desk and pretend someone else is in charge.

I believe everyone is born with a sin nature--I see it in high-speed action on the days I sub. But I also cannot help but wonder how these kids would act if they had a stable home life. Parents that taught them how to respect. Parents that required them to obey and gave consequences when obedience was not chosen. How many of those little boys I struggled with today have a male figure in their life that is stable, let alone a male figure of integrity, love, and wisdom? I'm guessing none of them do, and it breaks my heart that this is the norm for a lot of American kids. It breaks my heart that their are thousands and thousands more kids across the world whose turbulent home waters are not subdued by the presence of a loving teacher. Kids who don't get to go to school, don't get fed, die alone and abandoned in streets. It happens. It happens every. single. day.

I'm rambling, and I don't have a direction or a theme. My heart is broken; I am tired. I breathe a prayer for mercy. For me. For them. I beg that in some small way, I will love into the brokenness of this world. Let my every moment speak of You, Jesus, You who alone can heal the ripping wounds that tear so early in a life.

wind up your arm

2011-04-15T07:33:00.003-05:00

Psalm 111 begins with this: "Praise the Lord. I will extol the Lord with all my heart."

I scribbled the word extol down in my journal. A google search later, I had the Hebrew word.

Yadah. It means "to throw, cast."

What an beautiful picture. I will throw every praise I can think at the Lord. With all my heart I will cast praise upon praise toward Him. I will launch thanksgiving.

I think of a little kid, throwing a tantrum. He flings every movable object within his grasp across the room and with satisfaction, watches it thud. Now, change the motive. Keep the image in your mind, but instead of stuff propelled by anger, it's flying out of praise. We are flinging every movable object within our hearts toward the God of the universe. It's the motion of praise.

What battles are you facing today? Did you know, dear friend, it is not your job to win them? It is His, the One whose deeds are glorious and majestic (111:3). Your part is only this: Fling. Heave. Hurl. Lob praise onto your Father. Yes, even before you understand all the circumstances. He knows. And this day He ordained for you (Ps. 139:16). He holds. We throw.

out of the vault

2011-04-14T18:41:00.011-05:00

Our camera broke. One day, the screen began to short out at random, breaking the images into little lines. A few days after, I pressed the on button, and nothing happened.

I'd like to blame my absence on the broken camera.

Meanwhile, my Pops found a small Nikon digital camera on eBay. It's broken, but he thinks he knows how to fix it. It cost him $31.00, and we only have to pay for it if he fixes it. What a deal. And what a handy father I have. He can fix all manner of things, from roofs to plumbing, cameras to bicycles. I had the thought the other day that we could buy a broken flat screen TV. Aaron looked at me, puzzled. "It would be so much cheaper, and my dad could fix it!" I crowed. I don't actually know if he could, but Dad, since you're reading...what do you think?

In lieu of recent photos, here are some from the annals.

Aaron and I the night before our wedding

Abby and I at the petting zoo

An outtake from our engagement pictures

My nephew is a puzzle-working prodigy

Once on a date night, we ended up at Lowe's (this happens more than you might think) and we decided to measure our height with the ruler on the floor.

Road trip scenery

The thunder's cracking, the rain is drizzling, and my eyelids are drooping. It's off to bed. Why is falling asleep to the sound of rain so comforting?

Vocalise, Adagio, Jupiter and Movements

2011-03-31T15:18:00.004-05:00

From 4th grade, I picked up my first violin. Being left-handed, I naturally wanted to play it backwards. Then can the fumblings over placing fingers on stickers and learning that Every Good Boy Does Fine. I remember the dreaded practice cards, trying to find the joy to do 15 or 30 minutes of practice in a day. Oh how it took so much energy, patience. I can only imagine the sounds that came from my room in those days.

Then came the days of blending melodies, practicing vibrato on pencils, and long practices. My freshman year, I was fortune enough to step on the stage of Carnegie Hall and play with 100 of my classmates. At that time, I could never realize (nor pronounce) the many famous people who have stepped out on that stage and expressed things that could and would never be put to words other than cres., adagio, rit., <, >, sharps and flats in black ink and faded papers.

In college, I continued to play, but in a different role. Instead of a symphony, it was an ensemble and a quartet. The delicacies of moving and breathing together. Playing first made me vulnerable, supposing to take lead but bringing everyone else out. Learned how to improvise with some friends as we played for some camps and church nights. Not just playing notes but feeling rhythms and movements.

Since then, I pick up my violin every once in a while, replaying an old contest piece by Hayden and playing alongside Lara on the piano. I am so glad a friend of our is getting some good use out of the KC String violin.

I never got too big into it as some of my classmates from high school did, interested in soccer, church, and my girlfriend at the time. I still can't tell you most of the famous pieces and who composed them or why someone decided to augment a certain note.

Vividly, I remember sitting in orchestra class in high school, rehearsing Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber. This isn't a very complicated piece on paper but once you start playing it, you'll understand the complexities. I enjoyed the piece, partly because it was slow, easy to follow despite some time changes. But as we were playing through the motions, Mrs. Grover stopped us and asked, "Do you know what you are playing?" We all rolled our eyes thinking that we were going to be on one of the rants about playing in the style of the time period. But what she asked and said after changed how I saw music forever.

"What do you see when you play this piece?"

Well, not being very imaginative, I was baffled and stumped. I'm not exactly the most emotional person, preferring my cognitive walls and boundaries.

So we stopped, closed our eyes, and listen to the piece. As tears came down her eyes, she explained how he saw two married people who have had a "good" marriage but things have been rocky, not seeing each other often and being tense every time they saw each other. As the song goes on, there is an argument that beginnings. Awkward, cautious but heated. They exchange sarcastic remarks, finding fault in each other. And then the climax, a full throttle of emotion. But there is the moment of realization - they love each other. A moment that floods back all the reasons why they married each other. With a heaviness, there is a calm. A peace.

As we played after the conversation, it clicked. Even though I've never been married at that time, I felt it. I understood it. Music became an experience not an event.

Music has become a glimpse into our human frailty, or God's grace, mercy, love. Don't get me wrong, I know that classical pieces aren't necessarily "pure." But as C.S. Lewis describes in The Great Divorce of a painter who originally painted because he wanted to tell people about light but he lost sight of the purpose. But as I sit here today, listening to Rachmaninov's Vocalise I remember the beauty of God's love for us, even in the depths of our pain, our hurt, our void.

May we hear the movements of God's kingdom, not just playing our piece but experience His reality, His grace, His mercy, His love.

Songs that have meant a lot to me (check them out on Grooveshark.com):

Adagio for Strings - Samuel Barber

Vocalise - Rachmaninov

String Quartet in C# minor - Beethoven

Jupiter - Holst

Fur Elise - Beethoven

love begins with being alone

2011-03-29T13:14:00.003-05:00

One of the things I consistently struggle with in ministry is overload. I feel the press and the demand. They pile; I stagger. I can only give what I receive, and if you gaze into this heart, you really might see: a lot of the time, the gas gauge hovers above empty. I doggedly putt through my schedule and hand out dry bones and stale bread along the way.

This is not the life I am meant to live.

This is not the true life.

The Lord met me today with these words from Jill Briscoe.

"A leader loves. The love of God is shed abroad by the Holy Spirit which is given to You. He will touch your hard, unloving heart and create a warm, loving one instead.

How?

Alone.

They won't be touched until you are touched! Get near enough to me, Christ says, so I can take you in my hands like those loaves and fishes. Let me touch you, and when I do I'll bless you and break you and give you to the people. Then they will all be satisfied. They will know you love them...leaders who love must know what it is to be alone."

I know that the Jesus blessed Mary for sitting at His feet, and I know He rebuked Martha for her flustered, full service. I know this in my head. Yet in action, I refute it again and again. The love that Christ desires to spread through us is not achieved by activity, or motion, or good intentions. It is love born from relationship.

Oh! That we would be people desperate enough for Christ that we bulldoze all the scaffolding. That we would set fire to the planks, the props, the programs used to maintain appearance and satisfy our ego. That we would start new, at the feet of Him whose love is enough, and we would come with no other agenda but to know Him.

inspiration today

2011-03-28T22:31:00.004-05:00

"Love is a long day's labor with joy for another.
It is spending ourselves until we forget ourselves for another.
It is giving ourselves until we forget what is given us.
True love does not bargain.

It begs to bless."

-john drescher

She remembered then what it meant to love. The hardened heart, set in obedience toward the Sun, melts like an ice-cube in Southern heat. What began with gritted teeth and compelled hands becomes an exercise of joy, the forced becomes free. Love invades, and it changes us all.

Breaking in the Spring

2011-03-24T13:37:00.012-05:00

It's Spring Break! Wahoo! We love Spring Break!

We went camping with a bunch of kids we love.

Jumped off high platforms and spun around, otherwise known as barnswinging.

Ate too much at Lambert's Cafe, home of the original throwed roll.

The last time I remember barnswinging and eating at Lambert's was when I was 14 or 15 in my youth group. Am I old enough to be on the other side?

Now home from camping, and we're working on some home projects. Aaron is taking a bunch of boards and hammering out magic.

I am amazed by my husband, who is willing to learn any handyman skill and has great results. I told him earlier in the year I thought it would be great if we had bookcases on either side of our fireplace that looked like built-ins. Our house was built in the 30s and has Craftsman features, and I thought bookcases would add to the charm.

Who needs Ikea when you've got da Weaver?

While Aaron works on becoming the next Bob Vila, I am painting our bedroom.

Goodbye peachy tan that has always sort of bothered me. In the big scheme of things, I know peachy bedroom paint doesn't matter. But for a 11 dollar gallon of paint at Walmart, we are on our way to a soft gray oasis for marital bliss. Doesn't that sound like a good deal for 11 dollars?

Painting clothes + cold weather = very strange outfit. But we're at home and no one cares! I love wearing ridiculous, comfortable outfits. There was one year of college where I dressed up and wore make-up every single day in an effort to secure the affections of the campus dreamboat, and that was dumb. There are times for dressing up, but dad-gummed if I don't like the sweatpant days 100 times better.

So here we are, Aaron in his backwards cap and me in my stockings and cut-off sweats, and we couldn't be having a better Spring Break. We are listening to old-school Waterdeep which takes me right back to being 16 and to newer-school Jon Foreman which takes me right back to the spring Aaron and I started dating.

We're breaking in the spring, and it feels just right. Comfy as my soft, holey sweats.

Oatmeal, Coffee, and Psalm 107

2011-03-16T08:55:00.008-05:00

There you go.

The secret to a slam bang morning.

You're welcome. I like to share my secrets.

You may remember this post, where I bashed oatmeal. I officially revoke my unkind words about the nutritious, heart-healthy grain. Turns out I wasn't using the right proportions, which was causing my oatmeal to resemble the work of a preschool artist who uses way too much glue. Yummy, right? Well, after a quick read of the box and a commitment to memory of the 1:2 ratio, I am back on the bus with oatmeal.

Here are some tricks for oatmeal you should know about.

-Read the box. I mentioned this already.

-Add raisins.

-Douse with a stream of 2% or whole milk after cooking.

-Peanut butter is really tasty on top of oatmeal. (I learned this trick from a friend in college. I'm not sure if the picture appeals to you or grosses you out. Regardless, give it the ol' college try yourself.)

Oatmeal is always better with coffee. I often wish that I had a little kitchen gnome that made my coffee seconds before I stumbled into the kitchen, and there it would sit, piping hot and aromatic, not a minute too old. Sometimes I try making it the night before, and 8 hours later, I think that was a great idea. In the clear thought of mid-morning, however, I stand convinced a gnome is the very best idea.

Now I find myself in the tricky position of trying to transition from gnomes to the Psalms.

I am amazed this morning by the faithfulness of God.

I went for an early walk before oatmeal, coffee, or any of these crazy mind trails (gnomes?). The sky looked like this.

10 hours of sleep is a balm to many troubles, and waking to white cookie clouds iced with golden light is joy for the day.

I walk around the block, and the world is mostly sleeping, slowly waking. Cars with school kids roll past, a truck with a farmer on his way to MFA. Tree branches hang hopeful with the first thrusts of new life, tulip shoots creep to five inches and build toward bud.

God is in the spring.

With this walking song, I return to the couch, open Psalm 107. God is in everything. I read it and remember my own wanderings, my own prisons, my own afflictions, and my own stormy seas. It's not the best hermeneutics, I'm sure, but it is the heart melting under the heat of the logos. I see my unfaithfulness in the light of His faithfulness, and I am

undone

amazed

grateful.

The heart of man is prone to wander, but the heart of God is not. Eternal, unchanging, unshaken. There is no one like our God, who is magnified even by the wretchedness of man.

"Whoever is wise, let him heed these things and consider the great love of the Lord." -Psalm 107:43

Bringing out the box

2011-03-14T22:25:00.007-05:00

Tonight we decided to bring out the box. As Lara procrastinated from completing her sweep of the house (which I am utterly amazed at her work), she let her nostalgic side come out, looking through old picture of us that included painting the K-Life house together before we even started dating.

This is the night Lara came over to help me paint the K-Life house kitchen checkered back in the beginning of 2008. Who knew that we would have some much fun?!

After, I roped Lara into hanging with some of my friends: Atefeh, RockyB, Fivi, and Wedemeyer.

Lara is a sucker for the nostalgic. Mention a memory from childhood, college, or come home with a new haircut and she will already be missing them, listing twenty memories along the way. In a lot of ways, I envy her. Sometimes I forget the meaning of the past that brought us where we are at.

So tonight we brought out the box; a box filled with notes, letters, drawings, poems, pictures, old napkins with chicken scratches dating back to the summer of 2007. Four years documented in words, phrases, hidden meanings, dreams, confusions, and images.

A letter I wrote Lara while I lived with the Jones' after I broke my elbow and before I left to work at KAA. The beginnings of something we didn't know anything about. Just I liked her.

And it has turned into this great pile of meaning

Ironic we have put it in a Priority Mail box.

It's crazy looking back at the things we wrote each other. Each putting forth our best but still trying to not be too vulnerable. It's like listening to a waltz on a record player with some fumbles, some scratches, and some glorious moves. But the one constant rhythm, in three quarter time, was a gracious love from God intertwining two being together. That's the beauty of remembering. As C.S. Lewis, we spend so much of our time trying to recreate our memories when they are not yet complete. The fulness is still being written. The quartet still pulses. Our feet keep gliding along in the glorious dance. There still are some fumbles, tuggings for the lead, some scratches on the surface but the beat of His love pulses through us. There is no other one I would like to dance with than you, darling.

Go watch this

2011-03-13T17:47:00.002-05:00

The next time you have eight free hours, watch this.

We watched it first this summer in Colorado.

We watched it again over the last two months, spread between weekend nights and snitched free hours.

It is magnificent. You will like it. It's probably better than everything Hollywood put out this year. I can't promise for sure because I normally don't like to watch movies. I did see the Justin Bieber movie at the theater, which was one of those things I did for the love of my small group girls.

In closing, I promise you, you need some new friends. And their names are Esther, Ada, Richard, Mr. Jarndyce, and Lady Dedlock. And they live in that case up there.

Of the only post I have ever written about a movie, I say,

the end.

Iowa surprises

2011-03-12T11:10:00.012-06:00

When in need of a spring pick-me-up trip, most people turn to Iowa.

What, you hadn't thought of that?

Funny, I just assumed you had.

Ok, Iowa is not exactly the world's top vacation destination. If it weren't for my dear friend Nicole, we wouldn't have ventured there. She and her husband are living in Grinell, Iowa, for a few months as they train to move overseas in May. I don't think I can post the country where they are moving, but let's just say it is even less of a vacay destination than Iowa.

We wanted to see them before they left, so Iowa called our names and we answered.

My friendship with Nicole began junior year of college. We had mutual friends before that, but we had the wrong impressions of each other. I thought she liked boys too much and was a little too crazy; she thought I was awkwardly quiet and a little too serious. (Did I get that right, Nic?) First week of junior year that all changed when I helped her move her whole car-load of stuff into our second floor dorm hall. I did it because I was her RA and that's what RAs do, but she took it as a genuine gesture, and I am so glad she did, because that year we became fast friends!

After a few months, this is what her craziness did to my dormant crazy side:

Has to be my favorite picture of us. Just one of the many random times we dressed up during college.

Nicole and I discovered our mutual love for coffee that year too. This was a big deal to me, because I knew few people who loved the caffeinated stuff as deeply as I did. I would tiptoe into her room early in the morning to borrow her monstrous 12-cup machine when my 4-cup mini wasn't cutting it. She would tiptoe into my room the next morning after I forgot to return it and steal it back.

We became the queens of spontaneous outings, beginning with Road Trip Wednesdays and Kung Fun Breakfast Club, and culminating in our crowning glory, the Easter trip to Florida. We convinced three guys to take a 15 hour road trip with us to Nicole's aunt's house in Destin, and it was the most fun I ever had on a college trip.

A bit of the history for you. Back to Iowa. We forgot our camera, so many of the small beauties of Grinnell will here remain undocumented. The pictures I do have I sweet-talked Nicole into sending me. We will say we were pleasantly surprised by Iowa in many ways. Grinnell and Des Moines, the closest city, both have a Colorado-outdoorsy feel, and of course, A and I are big fans of that.

Aaron got to spend one day helping Jonathan with a soybean project. Jonathan is learning the ways of soybeans as that will be their job in the country they're moving too. Aaron wanted to join him--he finds physical labor a fun deviation from his regular job which is heavy on office duties and people time. (The project was fun, but did not enamor Aaron to soybeans more; I tried making tofu upon our return and it was a total bust.)

Nicole and I mainly just talked. Which is what we do best. She makes me laugh a tremendous amount; in return, she laughs at a lot of the things I say. Everyone needs a friend like that. Nicole is one of the most joyful, bubbly people I know. She sees life as an adventure, and she will buckle you in for the ride regardless of your initial excitement. Everyone needs a friend like that.

We also ate a lot. I am thinking back through my memories, and most of them include food in some form.

A coffee date. Who better to have it with than my coffee partner in cream? I mean, crime?

Lunch at a local pizza place.

Nicole and Jonathan with their teammate, Joe.

We got to meet their team and pray and fellowship with them. What a sweet night! So good to be reminded of the Kingdom of God and how God's people are carrying that out all over the world. We were stretched as we sat with people who are stretching hard themselves toward Christ.

Iowa, thank you for taking good care of my dear friend. Nicole, I love you like I love sim-sim balls, and that is more than you think! :) You are such a joy and encouragement to me! Thanks for blazing the trail in marriage and now in overseas work; I love watching you forge ahead.

Germination

2011-03-10T08:28:00.012-06:00

photo credit

It begins with a 10 cent package of half-used Jiffy pots. A treasure of last fall's garage sale season. I toss them on a corner shelf in our shed, and they sit in the coldness of winter.

In February, I buy seeds at Wal-mart. The cheap packs are priced at a dollar and don't come in waterproof foil packages. Spinach, tomatoes, zucchini, squash, and eggplant. I feel reckless and buy some flower seeds. Columbine, delphinium, johnny jump up, and forget-me-not. At the self-checkout lane, I discover tiny, papery seed envelopes do not register on the scale. I can't enjoy self-checkout for reasons just as this, but I always think next time will be different. I scan, bag, and the machine voice scolds me. Repeat. And again. The man on duty comes over to help. "Buying seeds, early, eh?" he says. I try to be gracious. "Trying to get a head start, I guess."

Last Sunday, I plant the seeds that take longer than a week to germinate. They are tucked in peat pots now and covered with Saran-Wrap, and they sit dark and damp on the bottom shelf of my pantry.

Today, I sit in front of God and I think of all the cares still in my heart, though the grace given me tells me to cast them at His feet.

Our numbers are down...we've lost contact with certain kids...how do we show God's love to T. when our lives are so different than hers...are we being effective...are we hindering or helping the spread of the Gospel here...I am tired of being hospitable...there

is not enough time...oh and my energy has evaporated.

I open the chronological Bible plan. Psalms today.

Psalm 93:3

"The seas have lifted up, O Lord,

the seas have lifted up their voice,

the seas have lifted up their pounding waves."

I feel the pounding waves on my heart. Life is pounding, and for whatever reason, this is the month where it seems all four great oceans of Earth have lifted up their breakers against me, and I am nearly drowned.

But the Great Spirit of God gently taps, and He hands an image through mind's door. Those seeds, silent and still in the kitchen. They will germinate in the right conditions. I bought the organic seed starter soil mix. I put them in a place that is warm. I spritzed the surface of each pot with just enough water.

In the right atmosphere, any seed can grow.

I am germinating worry and fear and a general sense of "overwhelmedness". The pounding waves begin with small seeds, and my soul is the pot in which their life begins. Do the conditions of my heart germinate life, peace, joy, truth, and hope? Or do they germinate worry, fear, anxiety, hopelessness, and discontent?

Water with truth, the Spirit urges me today. Water with the Word.

Psalm 93:3 is not the watering word today. There is another:

"Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,

mightier than the breakers of the sea--

the Lord on high is mighty." (vs. 4)

The Lord on high is mighty.

That seed is the one I will plant in furrows all up and down my heart.

His somethingness

2011-03-06T08:08:00.002-06:00

Hello old friends.

Let's say it now once and for all. We are the kind of friends that jump right in where we left off. I wish I wrote more. I wish I talked to you more through this bloggy telephone line, but sometimes, the silence grows, and I don't even realize it. Today I bring words, but no pictures. We thought we lost our camera, and I found it last night at my parent's house. When Aaron came to get me minutes before midnight, I was late-night cranky and pushing to get home and guess what? Yep, I left it there again.

Here I am, after weeks' quiet, and I have no pictures.

Are you still there? :)

I went for a run last week. Before I left, I laced up my New Balance and ranted to Aaron. The stuff of the day, the mess of the week, the parcel of the whole heavy year. He gave me that look that means, "Why don't you just run, and hopefully you'll run some of this out." So I quit talking and started running.

Pound, pound, pound. Pass the dogs that bark at me every single time. They are three bandits in one small concrete yard. When one starts the fury, the other two follow. Pound, pound, pound, leave the dogs behind. Turn right on Locust Street, up to the empty Dunnegan mansion.

"Lord," I say. "There are too many layers in my life. It's like a never-ending lasagna, Lord." (And, actually I was a little proud of this analogy as it formed.) "Meat, cheese, sauce, noodle, meat, cheese, sauce, noodle, and I am feeling SQUISHED!"

Do you have these too, reader-friend? Lasagna days where you wonder how much substance can be pressed into one pan of a day and it feels like too much and it seems to be spilling out the sides and corners and overflowing the top?

"I think you picked the wrong person for this job, Lord."

No epiphanies on the run, but I did come home a little calmer. Aaron was surely relieved.

This morning, I'm reading a book by a sweet British woman, Jill Briscoe, on the challenges of being a woman and wife in ministry. I found my heart punctuating many of her thoughts with a bold exclamation mark. Yes! This is how I feel! Someone knows! I am understood! Someone else has found Jesus in the midst of this!

One of the things she talks about is not to measure our success in ministry by numbers, by crowds, by the success of other programs, or by how we are measuring up to our predecessors. "Our nothingness," she writes, " gives God a chance to fill us with His somethingness...little is much when God is in it."

God has been reducing me to little. It is not something I cheer for, but my heart is filled with a strange anticipation. Knowing this is the prelude to something more than the stretched-out, over-baked, squished-down woman I've been. There are so many giants in this ministry, and I focus squarely on them, on my nothingness, my littleness. I am adolescent David in front of powerful Goliath.

Yet even in my misplaced focus, God appears. "I am bigger," He is saying. "Did I not put you here? Will I not sustain you where I lead you? Am I not bigger than any foe you perceive?"

In all the worn out dryness of the last couple weeks, I find that He is there. And all the lack in me is an empty field for Him to pile up His strength.

Imagine this all year round

2011-02-15T22:22:00.018-06:00

Never thought I would spend Valentine's Day partying with the preschoolers. But never say never. If you'd care for a laughable detour (which will probably attract all sorts of weirdos searching for naughty words on Google), the funniest thing happened with those preschoolers. Please forgive me if you are easily offended. One little boy could not remember my name and another earnest little boy tried to help him, "Riley, it's Mrs. Weiner. It's Mrs. Weiner, Mrs. Weiner. Mrs. Weiner, Riley!" I promise, he said it at least four times before I could high tail it to the block station and offer a correction.

Now, where were we?

Ahem. The day of Love. Yes.

We're actually celebrating in grand style tomorrow, on our day off. Aaron is planning that, and it will be delightful, but who needs grandeur when I have midnight slow dances to Van Morrison and a silly precious message recorded on a CD and 2 dollar roses from the Aldi clearance bucket and a man who reads C. S. Lewis while I waste my time on here? What's that quote from Anne Shirley when she finally reveals to Gil that she loves him, not Roy, and has loved him all along? Oh hang this post, it is doomed to digression, and excuse me while I go net that quote...

Ah, yes, here it is. Anne of the Island, chapter XLI - "I don't want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want you...sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more 'scope for imagination' without them."

This is our Valentine's Day, thrown on the potter's wheel of scoped imagination and deep love and small pocketbook.

Hot pink roses and

twinkly spontaneous garlands and

strawberry cream cheese cupcakes and

homemade peppermint patties and

oatmeal honey soap and

little valentines tucked in brown paper bags

and I pray there's love enough in these walls to swell up loud and clear even when it's not dressed in red and pink, and I pray that kindness and goodwill curl up tight in the small unphotographed things, and I pray that this is the script 365 days and not just a one-week, hyped-up, glitz-and-glamour February showing.

This Good Story

2011-02-08T19:05:00.007-06:00

Photo credit

We are reading through the Bible chronologically, which is an adventure I have never embarked upon before. I've almost made it to the Promised Land; I'm in Deuteronomy. I can't say enough cool things about a chronological reading of God's story--it brings forth His sovereignty and purpose in a way I have never seen before. I'm a bird, perched in the thin, white pages of the NIV, and the tree-top view makes me want to shout robustly: I will always trust you, God! But, in present time, in the life before it's history, I'm an ant, and limited vision makes it wickedly hard to trust sometimes.

Deuteronomy 6-8 is the backdrop for these thoughts. Moses is instructing the people on belief and action, on who they see God as and how they should live as His people.

I see it so clearly in the story of the Israelites: the absurdity of their unbelief and disobedience laid out next to their magnificent, awe-ful God, the Deliverer and the Giver. Yet the ridiculous transfers, a drawing traced into my own book. The same ugly, heavy strokes of those adulterous people are pressed upon my pages. Couldn't they see? I mourn as I leaf the log of the desert-hemmed people. The call of a Holy God, affectionate and loving to a race He plucked out of obscurity and little. The turned back of a nation, reading His kindness as harm and His way of life as path of death.

But who's to say the observer of my life could not utter the same? Can't she see? The thing which she names bad, no it is Good, and the hard thing she skirts the edge of, it is for her Best, and the grocery budget she frets over because there are always so many people to feed, it is her manna, for is their cupboard ever empty? She grumbles against this land, these frustrating circumstances, and if she would just take off those heirloom Israelite glasses, spectacles of fear and doubt and mulishness, what would she see?

The cry of Moses to the throng is the beckoning for me too--here, now, Tuesday of normal that could be holy.

Do not forget the Lord your God.

By His hand He has brought you.

Do not dare to think any of this: the car, the house, the clothes not even shabby or threadbare, the husband, is the fruit of your own labor.

It is all from Him and the heart that builds its nest next to His throne finds that it is more than enough.

The story is good, Israel.

The story is good, Lara.

Trust and believe.

What do you do with a snow day?

2011-02-03T22:53:00.010-06:00

A blizzard came to town, a bona fide blizzard. For a whole day, the snow blew and drifted, and each time I passed by the window 'twas with a wish for more. (I took back my wish when I thought of you, Dad!) 20 inches in the end, and I can not ever remember this place with more.

We've had a cracklin' fine fire. In the fireplace, not atop the stove. We've read: Aaron sinking his imagination deep in C.S. Lewis' space trilogy and me trilling along with the lighter work of Jan Karon. (Does anyone else want to move to Mitford?)

We tried to build an igloo. The success was minimal. We couldn't agree on the particulars of the roof, and I was cold, and what had seemed like such a fun idea, a memory in the making, rapidly turned not so fun. Boo. But amends were made over dinner soup.

We played ice-hockey. That was fun. No complicated engineering there.

Aaron shoveled the equivalent of Manhattan with a shovel left by the old owners of our house.

I made enough baked goods for everyone living in Manhattan.

We moved four pieces of furniture out of our bedroom so that we could slide our bed into various and contorted positions. Experimentation is sometimes necessary to discover what one innately senses. Our bed fits in one and one place only.

To this snow day turned snow week, I say: let's have a rendezvous again. Next winter? When an excuse to be a homebody comes knocking, I won't leave him on the front stoop. I do so like imposed hermit-hood. Now if only we could find Pops a job other than postman...

Burning Leaves and Thoughts

2011-01-26T17:22:00.006-06:00

Yes, I, Aaron, understand that it is January 26th and the rest of the northern hemisphere usually burn leaves in the fall. I have procrastinated and also fell behind all the falling leaves that I burned once and then reappeared on our yard.

They were wet and hard to start. Just took some patience and a revelation. We've been talking about with my small group of guys how God displays His invisible attributes, eternal power and divine nature through what is made (Romans 1:20). We have realized how much we miss when we don't stop and look. It's not that it's not there. It's that we're not seeing it. Not looking for Him. So today, as I struggle to get the soggy mess of brownness and managed only smoke, a gentle breeze moved in from the west.

In Greek, the word for wind is the same as spirit (phonetically sounds like pnooma with a silent p), the same word for the Holy Spirit. Now I'm not saying that God started the fire, not saying He didn't. But He definitely reminded me that while I may be "doing" something for Him, it usually just results in smoke. But the necessary things you need for a fire are fuel, heat, and oxygen - "pnooma." We need His Spirit to live, to breath, to do His work. And as all we have to do is ask: "If you (people) then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!"

---

While we've had snow in recent days, today was out of the ordinary it seemed. Honestly, it felt like spring was arriving. The birds humming an old tune that once was so familiar but now almost forgot. Warmth beamed onto my face as the sun squinted my eyes for the first time in a while.

It was refreshing. Rejuvenating (I had to use spell check to get this word right. Lara and Mrs. Russell my junior english teacher would be ashamed). I had visions of long bike rides, especially thanks to talking with Dr. Harris about those rides, it being light time 6:30pm and just being outside. The excitement of using my new Eno hammock.

And then it dawned on me, it's still January. "Beware the Ides of March" Caesar was once warned before he was stabbed to death (at least according to Shakespeare); but it's not even February yet. Winter will come once again. The spring blooms will stay dormant and dead for a while longer.

And this we hope for. Early buds quickly wither by winter's Battle of the Bulge. Even Jesus warns us about that quick sprout (even though He isn't talking about the frost) that comes up quickly with the word in joy but has no bearings, no roots.

We must wait. Enjoy this glimpse of new life but continue to bear into God when all seems dead and cold. It's only a season. It will be spring. But right now, I'll enjoy this time.

Who doesn't like pictures of the niece and nephew (if you say you don't, I'll come hunt you down. Ok, just kidding... but really)

When it all pans out

2011-01-18T21:22:00.013-06:00

Fires and floods. Hyperbolically speaking, the fabric of our week has been spun from such supply.

It started yesterday morning when a trickle and a gurgle tickled my ear and I, washing the dishes of a bread-making morning, stood at the sink, cataloguing the new sound. The rush of moving water, where is that coming from? Dishwasher, no, outside, no, drain, maybe, and then there was water sloshing out from the cabinet onto my feet. A door jerked open fast, and a new card was filed in the mental catalogue: the sound of a busted pipe.

Dishes halted. Piled up instead in disarray all day and night, and we've already talked about the size of the kitchen, haven't we? Aren't many places to pile here. A mish-mash of lunch and dinner and wassail items flung catawampus on any available surface and the undercabinet supplies fan-bathed on the tile floor.

Aaron worked his magic, handyman style,

and I did not work mine, housekeeping style. A full day of subbing, and I was beat. Tread a mile clear of the kitchen today. The mess stayed, and I stayed out. Until a hot cup of tea called my name, and I somehow met a burning mess of vitamins instead. Oh the shame.

Again, an unfamiliar noise was the bloodhound pointing the way. And again, I waited until the situation grew unmistakably problematic. Crackling gave way to popping, and when I saw the orange tint from the kitchen doorway, I thought the teakettle was on fire. How in heaven's name would a teakettle catch on fire? But there was the teakettle, cold and stout, and there was the wrong burner, a bright orange branding iron under the wicker basket of vitamins.

Tonight, we mourn the loss of Vitamin D, Vitamin C, Women's Multi, and Lysine.

I was tempted to feel sorry about the whole firecracker of a week. But then I thought better. How many women in the world would dive at the chance to cook in the kitchen I consider small? How many women would tackle the chance to give their babies clean water, not for a second wondering if the clear stream, welcomed with a flick of the wrist, held parasites and disease?

It would be unholy to look around at this life and not find a thousand and one thankfuls. I could not imagine my lot to be hard or my burden heavy, because it is not. One small pipe broken and one small basket burned, and our house stands not a seam worse for the wear. We are blessed beyond measure, and it is overwhelming when I truly stop to take stock. He doesn't have to give it to us, you know; none of this is ours and yet He gives and we are breathless in the seasons of bounty.

______

For ending levity, how is this? I was two blocks away from our house on my run today before I realized how funny my running get-ups are in the winter. I dress for running absentmindedly, thinking about the day or what is yet to be done, and I layer on like crazy. The result is only for the refined fashion eye.

the promise kept

2011-01-17T08:50:00.013-06:00

photo credit

Genesis 15:1

"After these things the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision, "Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield, and your reward shall be very great."

Abram, you will not yet see--but do not be afraid.

A namesake and a nation, so hard to conceive--but do not be afraid.

It will be six more long chapters before the beginning of the promise will arrive. It will be the conniving of your wife; it will be a new name for you; it will be Yahweh Himself visiting your tent at Mamre; it will be Sodom and Gomorrah burning to ash; it will be another lie of yours to another king,

but the promise will be kept.

Circumstances will not endorse the promise; you will begin to think He has forgotten the promise.

Yet, Abram, of you by your new name it will someday be written:

"By faith he received power of procreation, even though he was too old--and Sarah herself was barren--because he considered Him faithful who had promised." Hebrews 11:11

So do not fear, Abram.

Do not fear though you will not see the promise completed in your years on earth.

Others will see.

From the seat of 2011 A.D., history unravels behind, and we know the name of Isaac, and we call those grains of sand a nation named Israel and Gentiles grafted in by one Good Friday.

How could he see such a thing?

How can we see the things promised to us? Perhaps God will give us our Genesis 21, a red-faced, writhing baby to hold, but perhaps He will not.

The promise does not end in our lifetimes.

We want to see before our bones return to dust, yet there will be other eyes that look back on us, from the same third person omniscience with which we survey Abraham, and the points will connect. The years unfurl the whole story, the promise kept.

Another man, another generation, wrote his last letter at the end of a wild life,

"But I am not ashamed, for I know the One in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that He is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to Him." (2 Tim 1:12)

The One whom Abraham found faithful,

The One in whom Paul put His trust,

He is our God.

He is authoring something with this all--the tragedy, the victory, the dull, the bright, the word given that seems never to come true.

Though we only "welcome the things promised from a distance" (Heb 11:13), the story does not end with what we see. And the word sent to Abraham--do not fear--comes to us too, and builds strong, solid beams around the small, precious stone of our belief.

TGIF

2011-01-15T10:47:00.018-06:00

Every Friday morning at 9:00, the munchkins come to visit. My sister and her family live a mile away from our house. Last year, knowing this proximity would not be long lasting, we set up a weekly time for our niece and nephew to come over.

Thus Friday morning time was born. I wish we had a cool name for it, but we don't. Let's see. We could call it "Aunts and Uncles are the Best" time. (Too narcissistic.) Or "How Does My Sister Do This Every Day?" time. (Doesn't convey how fun it really is.) Or "I Haven't Used My Imagination This Much Since Last Friday" time. (Way too long.) Scrap the title. They come, and we love it. We take the kids for 4-7 hours, depending on the week. My sister gets some Mommy down time to do whatever her heart pleases, and Aaron and I get to play with the two sweetest munchkins we know.

With a charmer like this on the premises, it's not a wonder we give in to spoiling galore.

That smile brings out the chocolate every time. Smart cookie.

But it's not all chocolate and games around here. No sirree. With lunch comes the inevitable--the dreaded vegetable. Celery was the foe this week.

She ponders. "I have to eat this green stick with stwings before I get down?"

"Uh, maybe I could use that smile Drew uses."

"Okay! Chew fast, chew fast, think about that Curious George TV show I love, chew fast!"

"Do you think she'll notice the piece I'm sitting on?"

Often, we offer some mind-stimulating games for the young prodigies.

"With this game, I heard we can take over the world!"

No Friday would be complete without a camp-out under the table.

At this point, we must have been running out of food during a long, harsh winter.

We might not have food, but we have books! Food is for the birds, anyway.

Here, she is telling Aaron is a soft, secret whisper, "I'm starting to feel in my heart that there are some berries over there." You follow that heart, girl.

Pillow fights? Why not? We firmly campaign with the slogan, "Get 'em hyper; send 'em home."

"Hey, wait a minute. I'm not going home until someone can tell me why this Christmas tree is still up."

That's where the fun ended, but not the Christmas tree. Just kidding. About the fun ending part. You know us and the Christmas tree; we're not quitting. Not yet.

Kicks are for kids

2011-01-14T00:53:00.007-06:00

We get on kicks around here. I am especially prone to this. For example. My favorite color was blue. Then it was red. Now it is blue. How inconvenient that I decorated my kitchen during the red stage. Or, I ate oatmeal every breakfast for a month, and now all I can think every time I consider making it is glob. I've sorta been liking leftovers for breakfast lately, but don't think I'm one of those people that eat pizza for breakfast. Because I totally am.

In the first few months of marriage, Aaron and I played a round of Boggle with breakfast. That was when I wrangled him into waking up to eat with me. I have since seen the truth and the light-- that it is better for everyone if he sleeps a little later, and Boggle will have to wait. When breakfast bonding got the ax, Boggle didn't find another slot. It got lost. But now: MASTERMIND. You must say it in all caps to sound like you're taking over the world.

We bought it for .97 cents at the Council for the Blind thrift store. Best .97 cents we ever did spend.

My friend Kristen bought me this Starbucks water cup after I made fun of hers. Lo and behold, it is magic, and I take back all the mean things I thought about it pre-ownership. I think it must be the straw that compels me to drink copious quantities of water. How did I live 26 years and not realize the magic of the straw?

I cannot promise anything regarding the long life-span of this next kick. Disclaimer accounted for, I would like my mom and dental hygienists everywhere to know that I am flossing! Every night! I thought I lost my floss, and one might think that would end the kick, but no. I bought a new package! Oh the dedication! I didn't actually lose the first, as you can see.

We are sooooo on a kick to leave our Christmas tree up. We already mentioned that? Oh.

This sunset was our five o'clock gift today. I'd like to start a kick of these.

Anything y'all have been on a kick for lately? I did just say "y'all". My sweet southern Laura-friend taught me how to say it, and it fits like a glove. Try it. "Y'all" could be your new kick...

first plant of day

2011-01-12T22:40:00.007-06:00

Photo by Paul Casey

On a morning like this, the ritual serves up like a dry, stale piece of bread.

How can meeting with God Almighty be such a thing?

There is no excitement, no epiphany, no word, certainly not found written on the wall and maybe not found among the words of the Word already here, the Word that has always been.

I open the Book and let the pages fall. I don't know where to begin.

I confess every sin I can think of; perhaps my own unrighteousness is the veil I see dimly through.

Is this sluggishness born out of begrudging?

Sketched deep down, in my hidden heart, crouches this: that I would rather be doing something else.

"Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."

Paul wrote of money to the Corinthians, but today, the gift means not money but time. I give it reluctantly. The discipline of meeting the Lord first has become just another thing to do. In the silent vault of day-beginning, I'm too eager to blog-hop or wash yesterday's dishes.

And yet.

"Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously."

I remember that prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. Anna. Of her it was written, "She never left the temple, but worshipped night and day, fasting and praying."

She sowed generously. How she reaped.

84 years, and then, the Messiah, the face of God, right before her crinkled eyes.

Would it be so crazy to spill the whole seed bag in one spot of soil?

Would it be so crazy to come to You in the dimness of the day and spill my whole heart, my whole cage of competing desires, my small, small agenda?

Would it be so crazy to whisper,

curved over coffee mug and wooden table,

"Oh Great God,

come, please, I beg of you, even when I do not sow well, when my seed is scattered, my mind scattered, my heart divided.

Come, for I am nothing if you are not here, and I ache to reap what Anna did, God, crazy old Anna, who planted herself in one single spot, and

she

saw

You."

About Our Christmas Tree Still Being Up and Other Tales

2011-01-10T09:12:00.018-06:00

Yup. It is still up in all its Christmas glory. The branches don't even look droopy yet. When we walk in the house after being gone all day, it smells more like winter and pine than it did when we bought it. And today it snowed! For the first time this winter!

Are those not reasons aplenty to have O Tannebaum still around?

The last month, life has been a speedy revolving door of leaving and going, people coming and staying. That's the real reason the whole shebang is yet twinkling from the corner. Some ornaments have fallen off (in the back) and the needles are migrating to the floor (all over). I think I heard it say last night that it's just happy to not be lying out by the woodpile, smooshed and wet.

Now, the many faces behind my tardy tree taking-down...

The week before Christmas, we helped our friends Nick and Brittany move to Topeka. We ate great Thai, unpacked the Uhaul truck into a storage unit in the dark, moseyed through brown and gray hills on empty trails, and drank lots of chai. I didn't get a single picture. We will miss and have already missed them many times. It is bittersweet to watch dear friends move on to what God has planned when it means they will be not near anymore.

We spent Christmas Eve with my family at Mom and Dad's house. There was hide and go seek,

warm fuzzy Christmas Eve pajamas,

a sweet girl who, after ripping through hers, helped everyone else open their presents,

stockings,

and the joy of spending one last Christmas with these guys before they move across the Big Pond.

Then there was Christmas with Aaron's family. Grandma Dixie always buys 10 lotto tickets for every family member; we hunt for them after presents are exchanged. Isn't that fun? It's hit and miss. Usually as gambling goes, more miss. I won $17 this year, and Aaron won zip.

The obligatory in-front-of-the-tree pose with Aaron's mom, dad, and brother. I am waiting for a sister-in-law; the latest reports indicate Ryan is making progress in that direction, and I am trying to be patient. Another girl would add some nice balance to the classic tree picture, don't you think?

We got home from Christmas traveling, and the next day, my college friends started arriving. Since graduation, it's been a steady tradition to spend New Year's weekend together. It is harder and harder to gather every year as people keep spreading and life circumstances keep changing. Still, it is a precious, precious time, and I wouldn't trade it for any other New Year's party. These people are the ones that sharpened me and steered me toward Christ during a special season of life!

Cooking with Emily, who has domestic abilities to which I can only aspire.

A pizza which Aaron and I fondly dub First Anniversary Pizza. Good on non-anniversary occasions too. Layer olive oil, blue cheese, asiago cheese, figs, and prosciutto on a pizza crust. 12-15 minutes at 400 degrees. Skepticism is okay, but trust me, it is a winner. Don't overdo the blue cheese as it can take over all the other tastes.

We lingered long around the table.

The friends left, and then it was on to Branson for the annual K-Life Staff Conference. Aaron tried out a hurricane simulator. Weird, I know.

At the end of the conference, K-Life throws a fancy banquet. We are in front of a giant Christmas tree, but really, how awesome is it that my placement lends me the look of a giant red hair bow?

I put the suitcase back in the basement this morning. We don't have plans to travel for the next month at least. We're gonna stay put and drink lots of cocoa, tea, and coffee. We'll have kids over to play games, and the farthest we'll venture is three miles across town to cheer at the high school basketball game.

And we'll do it all under the happy glow of our Christmas tree.

Sweet times

2011-01-08T16:16:00.008-06:00

That flurried week before Christmas, Aaron was clutch. For those who don't work with teenagers, that means he came through. In a big way. I was stayin' up late and gettin' up early, burning that candle on both ends and in the middle. I was grumpy and stressed and knew that I had bought too much stock in the company of overachievement, but I was in too deep to pull out.

One of the many errands I send him on that week was to Woods' Grocery. "Three things, babe," I cried, in that tiny, whiny voice I slip into when I'm tired. "Flour. Honey. Powdered Sugar."

When he returned, my grocery-shopping knight, bearing gray plastic bags and his "I remembered everything and did it fast" grin, I dug out the honey, the flour, and oh my goodness, I-have-never-seen-this-much-powered-sugar-in-my-life. It was amazing. Overwhelming. A little terrifying.

Four pounds. Four pounds--sixty-four ounces--of white, powdery sugar. If you don't bake, this might not mean much. Let me help you visualize:

Powdered sugar comes in 1 lb. boxes.

Or in 2 lb. bags. Which is usually what I buy, because that's how Aldi sells it, and it's cheapest at Aldi. 2 pounds lasts aaaaaaawhile.

But a four pound bag! It's enough to cover our back yard in fake snow! Maybe not, but then again, maybe!

"You got the FOUR POUND bag?" I crowed. I am such a gracious, thankful wife. If anyone would like lessons, Facebook me or something.

"Was this all they had?"

And this, this is what my husband replied.

"Well, I don't know. There were so many white things on that aisle."

Priceless. I already love having the four pound bag of powdered sugar, I can tell you that. It's a life-changer. For one, if there is a huge blizzard and we get stuck in the house, we will not starve. For two, if the blizzard never comes, we can have frosting whenever we want. Let me repeat that. Whenever. We. Want.

Yeah, you want the four pound bag now, too, don't you?

crazy dreams

2011-01-03T08:53:00.006-06:00

Here's a spin on the traditional New Year's resolution list.

I call it my Crazy Dreams list.

Study literature at Oxford
Start an orphanage in Nepal
World Tour with Aaron (Places to hit up include but are not limited to: Turkey, Nepal, India, Thailand, Italy, France, Germany, and England)
Run a marathon
Study interior design
Open a used bookstore/bakery/coffee shop
Hike the entire Appalachian Trail
Write a book
Get dreadlocks

Obviously, these won't all happen in 2011. We are saving and scheming to make the third one a possibility in 2012. Precluding a surprise pregnancy or other life-turns we can't yet foresee.

As I thought about the new year this morning, I jotted this list down in my journal. I struggle, and have for the last 10 years, with voicing dreams and ambitions, ever since I made a sincere decision to follow Jesus anywhere and everywhere He led. If Jesus is Lord and Master of my life, then my "right" to call the shots is non-existent. Yet, I also believe that He has given each of us specific callings. He has a plan.

The struggle is to discern His calling from my ambition.

So I come with my Crazy Dream list and cast it at His feet. It's not a year's wages of costly perfume. It's just some wild stirrings that pulse in my heart.

This, from Elizabeth Elliot, sidled up next to my list during my morning tryst on the couch. Put perspective on the whole lot of seedling desires that were sprouting out from a deep place in me.

"In the forests of Ecuador I soon learned that there were journeys I could not make if I wanted to carry baggage. Traveling narrow, muddy, and often steep trails on foot was impossible if I was heavily loaded.

So it is with the spiritual journey. We cannot make it if we insist on taking along everything we think indispensable. A rich young man was attracted to Jesus and contemplated joining His company, but Jesus spoke plainly of the necessary condition: Sell all you have first.

If he had not had much, perhaps he would have laid it down readily. But he was too rich to follow Jesus. He turned away, sorrowful.

We may be willing to part with almost everything God is asking us to relinquish, but perhaps we are clutching one thing tightly- "all but this, Lord." "Lay it down," Jesus says. "Let it go." If we refuse, too rich to follow Him, we have chosen a greater poverty in the end.

2011 is just a babe, swaddled in the wrap of potential and possibility. I lay the newborn bundle down. Nothing is out of the reach of the altar.

Not the Crazy Dream list, not anything. Let me not be too rich, either in the currency of possessions or dreams, to follow Him.

Under Construction

2010-12-29T00:46:00.004-06:00

I'm working on a new blog layout. Nothing fancy. I'm just tweaking a few things here and there that you can change with a basic Blogger account. I was weary of the brown background. It was just so...brown. Like my wardrobe, Aaron just snickered. I do wear a lot of brown. But! No more on the blog.

I'm also adding labels to all the posts so it will be easier to go back and read certain posts.

But these things take time, so bear with me in transition.

2010-12-25T10:50:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas from our pajama-ed selves to yours!

Immanuel

2010-12-24T08:39:00.009-06:00

It is early. It is Christmas Eve morning. In a rare move, Aaron awoke earlier than me. I found him reading on the couch at 7:30. I was sleepy and felt like going back to bed for a long winter's nap. But the sight of my husband, grinning on this unprecedented morning, kept me up. I headed for the coffee pot.

Somewhere between my coffee and the first putterings about the house, the fire proved to be too much for the man. I returned to this:

He so dearly loves being warm while he sleeps.

The dining room table looks like this.

I stayed up too late working on a scrapbook for Aaron's grandma. We are going to my parents' house tonight and then to Aaron's family tomorrow, meaning any gift we want to give must be done and wrapped by 5 o'clock today. Even though she recently fell through for me, I somehow decided I wanted to be just like Martha and make most of the gifts we are giving this year. Which means that today I will be baking 5 loaves of bread, mixing 5 cinnamon butters, finishing 3 cookie platters, creating 1 calendar, and a partridge in a pear tree.

But this morning, I sit. I brush aside all the Martha ambitions and realize I am that Martha from long ago, the one whom Jesus chastised. "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one."

The room is quiet and cozy. The Christmas tree sparkles from the corner, and I wonder how much of the mystery I have missed for mayhem instead. All my good intentions might just obscure the miracle of the One who came, the One who first wants not my service but my adoration.

I return to familiar words and beg for the veil to fall. To see anew with Spirit's help. "The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel--which means, God with us."

God with us. The one thing that is needed. It is indeed a miracle of the most grand proportions. The King Most High stepped down to His people, the harassed and helpless, the wounded and weeping, the broken and confused, the self-righteous and pious.

The Shepherd has come. Oh weary world, rejoice.

Martha let a sister down

2010-12-20T19:46:00.015-06:00

This post was supposed to be about baking. And I thought I would throw in how I have undertaken substitute teaching again. But mostly, baking. Five minutes ago, I tasted one of the cookies that I spent a very long time baking, and it tasted like CARDBOARD. I am pondering giving up the post and giving up baking. I have consoled myself that they are for my family, who won't judge me, and the snowflake design still looks pretty, but, dang it Martha Stewart, I thought your cookie recipe would be a good one. You are Martha, after all.

When I bake, my kitchen looks like this. Messy Bessy. That should be my kitchen code-name. I like to blame it on the severe lack of counter space. I have been known to use the top of the fridge as a surface to set things when the space gets sparse...you can imagine how that ends when I jerk open the freezer a little later.

Aaron sat on the floor and played me ballads. Which reminds me, today when I was subbing, a kindergarten boy told a kindergarten girl that she looked sexy. Why does a five-year-old know how to use the word sexy? Oh gracious. Now may he call her cute? Yes, please. But not sexy, unless he wants to make his sub cry. Which, now that I think about it, he probably did want that.

In addition to the Cookies Made Of Cardboard, I made these buckeyes, which turned out tasty. The baking night was not a complete loss. It was hard to make them look as beautiful as the food blogger did, but I direct you to my mantra for the night: they are for family.

And if the family don't like 'em, well, gosh, they've got the gingerbread. Oh wait...

Here, in Exhibit A, please note the hunk of gingerbread dough that was destined for disaster.

Here, in Exhibit B, please note the cookie it became, which does look quite charming. So if you could imagine a flavor other than cardboard as you gaze upon it, that would be nice.

About subbing. Here are some of the best nuggets:

"Are you Justin Bieber's mom?" - 2nd grade girl

Hmm...Weaver and Bieber...I can see how the mistake was made...

"You should shave your hair. You have really dark hair on your arm. Girls aren't supposed to have dark hair." - Kindergarten boy

We'll call it a night.

The Important Things of Life

2010-12-15T22:51:00.009-06:00

Nephew Drew & Me

Tonight is still. The dryer downstairs sings its soothing tune while Lara does her creative thing. She's been sick the past 5 days or so, and it is great seeing her get back to her normal self. I think she's trying to make up for all that lost time.

To inform you of what has gone on the past few weeks, the most important is:

We bought a real Christmas tree. If we ever get a fake one, I will not celebrate Christmas. I know, it's not about me, it's about Jesus. But, come on, it's like having your wedding, and your best man, maid of honor, and all the guests are not real but gnomes.

Second, we ended up house sitting and broke the cardinal rule of real Christmas tree caring: watering. Yes, we neglected our fine friend. We ended up house sitting for an amazing family and thus forgot about our tree.

So, Nathan, Rachel, Lara, and I, at 10:30pm, attempted to take the tree out of its stand and saw it with the dullest, flimsiest hack saw. I think a butter knife would have done better.

Not to mention, we kept the decorations on.

But after much labor, we decided to get the big guns out and take it out with a circular saw. Did I tell ya there were two sleeping kids in the house? When all we done, to say the least, we redecorated the tree. Got to change the things we didn't like the first time, right?!

She's asking me to help. I think I will. So much for blogging! Hope this was both informational and entertaining.

5 minutes later...

I've been decommissioned from my duties due to lack of artistic ability.

So one more thing. Lara and I come from two different and distinct camps when it comes to toothpaste etiquette. Lara enjoys squeezing the tube wherever her hand may land (usually the middle of the tube). I, however, enjoy squeezing from the bottom, thus pushing all toothpaste upward getting maximum usage out of an entire tube. All that to say, whether she's a middle of the tube squeezer or not, I still love her.

Where do you squeeze?

Lara made this ginger cookie for me with the great Mary Grace Harris. Gotta love it!

books to change a life

2010-12-08T10:10:00.012-06:00

I've been reading several books lately that are tearing up my heart, in the very best way. The other week I wrote about dreams that were stirring in me after a long, dry few years. The Lord has been using these books to stir and churn me. If I am honest about my spiritual state the last few years, it often has been me just doing the best I can, knowing Christ is real and victorious, but not often living it. Knowing that He is the treasure in a field for which a man sells all his possessions, yet attempting to buy the field and keep my treasures. Um, maybe I could take out a loan?

When I got back from India in 2007, my heart was broken. In many ways, my faith in the God of my fathers was shaken. Was God good? Were His redemption and transformation realities to bank on in the darkest depths of this Earth? Did He have any purpose for my life?

So I came home to Missouri, and I think part of the way I chose to handle all that hurt was by just hiding it away and returning to normal. Normal doesn't peel scabs off tender skin. Normal doesn't grapple with faith in a dirty, sweaty boxing ring. Normal finds a niche in mainstream culture and just does its thing. But the devastating truth is, normal doesn't follow Jesus like He calls us to follow.

God is graciously bringing me to a place where I can see this. A place where I ache to really know Him and make Him known. A place where I am willing to load everything that I have filled my heart with since India and put it on the garbage barge and send it out to sea. Anything that is not Him, I want to go.

Here are the books. I tell you about them because they have encouraged/and are encouraging me greatly. Nothing can replace the power of God's Word, and if you only have so much time to read, read the Word first! But if you can fit a little extra reading material in, I recommend these.

#1 - Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream by David Platt. I resisted reading this book at first, because it seemed like everyone in Christendom was reading it. Aaron's friend gave it to him, and for a few months I saw it every now and then on Aaron's nightstand, and I would hide it under some other books or knock it behind the bed or you get the picture. I just really did not want to read it. I knew enough about the book's premise to know that if I read it, I would have to change some things in my life. Finally, I picked it up. And it is rockin' me, friends.

"I found myself faced with two questions. The first was simple. Was I going to believe Jesus? Was I going to embrace Jesus even though He said radical things that drove the crowds away? The seccond question was even more challenging. Was I going to obey Jesus? My biggest fear, even now, is that I will hear Jesus' words and walk away, content to settle for less than radical obedience to Him...You and I can choose to continue with business as usual in the Christian life and in the church as a whole, enjoying success based on the standards defined by the culture around us. Or we can take an honest look at the Jesus of the Bible and dare to ask what the consequences might be if we really believed Him and really obeyed Him."

#2 - The Triumph of John and Betty Stam by Mrs. Howard Taylor. I bought this biography of John and Betty Stam, missionaries to China in the 1930s, at a book sale in college. I think I read pieces of it in college, but I read the whole thing through in about two hours last week. John and Betty were martyred by Communists and after their death, their little baby girl was found by friends in their village. The witnesses of their death testified that they went to the execution without fear or sorrow. That is not the product of a moment's decision! That is the result of years of trusting Jesus and finding Him to be faithful! I want to know Christ in such depth that when death arrives, it is but a page turn to the sweetest chapter.

As a student at Moody in the middle of the Depression, John wrote the following, which I found to be prophetic to our age too:

"This bewildered age needs to know that only 'the foundation of God standeth sure.' Many a man is being torn loose, these days, from the things to which the heart has clung. It is ours to show the incorruptible riches which bank failures and economic conditions cannot touch. It is ours to show, in the salvation of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in personal communion with Him, a joy unspeakable and full of glory that cannot be affected by outside circumstances."

#3- They Found the Secret by V. Raymond Edman. My mom told me about this book, and she even lent it to me. Well, I was busy, and so I gave it back a few months later without cracking it open. Then, I found it at a garage sale not too long after. I figured it was a sign. :) It's a compilation of 20 short biographies of men and women who "found the promise of life more abundant to be true."

From the chapter on Hudson Taylor:

"It is the abiding life that is fruitful...the life that is Christ is abiding and abounding, it is satisfying and overflowing. How then shall a Christian bear fruit? ...There must be

a full concentration of the thoughts and affections on Christ

a complete surrender of the whole being to Him

a constant looking to Him for grace."

#4 - A Chance to Die by Elizabeth Elliot. I haven't read this book lately, but it is one of my top 5 favorite books. It is a biography of Amy Carmichael, a missionary to India in the late 1800s. The title sums up Amy's heart: she saw her whole life as a chance to die for Christ, whether that was in her life work of saving girls from temple prostitution or in her later bedridden years when all she could do was write. How many Christians do you know today whose life theme is "a chance to die"? How odd that is to our culture, where success and comfort are top pursuits and everybody wants to live as long as they can.

To sum up what these books are collectively speaking to me, it is that "Jesus it the treasure." Jesus and His glory made known are what matters. He is enough. He is more than enough, He is life spilling over. Following Him hard matters. It is obedience to Him and His life revealed to the world.