::: creating a place for repentance :::

Have you read anything by Ann Voskamp? Have you read her beautiful blog, seen her beautiful pictures? If you haven't, you really must. If you have, be sure to read today's entry, When a Family Needs a Fresh Start. Ann's words are art. Her photographs, likewise.

Our family definitely needs a place for repentence and forgiveness these days. Thank you, Ann, for the tactile approach.

::: paul called it :::

Last week, while I was a nap widow, I found myself avoiding life by plowing through StumbleUpon sites. Sometimes the things I find while I'm stumbling amuse me. Occasionally they inspire me. But last week, while I was avoiding life, the things I stumbled upon depressed me.

I guess my first mistake was pausing on a page that boasted 99 things that you absolutely must see on the internet. Well, I thought, if I have the internet, and these are things I should have seen unless I'm a loser or old or something, I suppose I'd better use my time wisely and investigate every single one of them.

The very first link I clicked on was a video of a news person very unexpectedly falling and injuring herself badly. The sounds she made involuntarily upon impact with the ground made me gasp aloud. "My goodness!" I thought. "She must have hurt herself terribly!" My immediate reaction was to wonder what injuries she sustained.

But when I did a search for this woman to find out what had happened, all I found was the image of this video repeated over and over and over again, and each time I clicked to see if I could find further information, the comments I saw instead were heartless and atrocious. Insulting comments about her physical appearance, derogatory comments regarding her gender, mocking laughter about her audible reaction, profanity, vulgarity. Rarely, if ever, was there a comment about the woman's pain or wellbeing.

I found myself empathizing. Truly empathizing. I could see myself easily being that woman, and then, in a flash, I was her. I was hated for my mock cleverness, my excessively wobbly bits, and for being stupid enough to gasp when hurt, cry out when panicked. I actually felt hated by all of those people who left such terribly insenstive comments.

In an effort to cauterize myself from the discomfort I was feeling, I foolishly turned back to the top 99 things one absolutely must see on the internet. With a very few exceptions, one link after another led me to a moment of another human being's downfall, often literal, and the subsequent derogatory comments made by those who gleefully ridiculed the victim.

Only a handful of the 99 internet must-sees were uplifting. The majority of the 99 centered around some type of profanity or vulgarity. Only a couple of the 99 featured any kind of actual talent. This bothered me.

But I think what bothered me more was the ubiquitousness of nasty, prejudice, heartless comments. Are there really that many mean and insensitive people in the world?

I don't know why I'm surprised. After all, someone wiser than I once said:

"Don't be naive. There are difficult times ahead. As the end approaches, people are going to be self-absorbed, money-hungry, self-promoting, stuck-up, profane, contemptuous of parents, crude, coarse, dog-eat-dog, unbending, slanderers, impulsively wild, savage, cynical, treacherous, ruthless, bloated windbags, addicted to lust, and allergic to God."

Still, to see it in action breaks my heart.

Today, I will try to counteract the profane, the contemptuous, the crude and coarse with as much warmth and kindness and goodness as God will trust me with and as my human heart will put forth.

Will you?

::: a million canaries :::

How do you explain to a child,
that seeing is not always believing?
That the stars still exist in the daytime,
even when the sun is out,
but that there are no monsters
under her bed
or
in her closet
or
outside her window
watching her lay scared into sleeplessness?

How do you explain it to a child,
that God loves us,
protects us,
provides for us,
through the reality of nightmares,
the cruelty of friendship,
the unfairness of death?

How do you explain to yourself
that believing is more than seeing?
That yellow birds hang suspended
in the cloud-dotted blue?
That the greatest of these
is that one thing
that doesn't seem to be working?

How do you explain to yourself
that God loves us,
protects us,
provides for us
through the reality of disease,
the cruelty of depression,
the unfairness of economic poverty?

And yet he does,
and he does,
and he does.

When the yellow bird sails
and my fingers bend
and the stars shine,
I know.

Men can take from me
my life,
my Prozac,
my 401K,

But if the yellow bird hanging suspended
in the cloud-dotted blue
spirals to the ground,
he knows it,
and only he holds my soul
and he values me--
he values you--
more than a million canaries.

So I will speak in the daylight
what he tells me when I bolt upright,
in a pool of cold sweat;
What he whispers in my ear,
I will sing in my own voice 
as I stand on the shingles of my roof.

He does!
And he does!
And he does!

The Whole Law=One Precept

pre·cept: \ˈprē-ˌsept\noun

Etymology:

Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin praeceptum, from neuter of praeceptus, past participle of praecipere to take beforehand, instruct, from prae- + capere to take — more at heave

Date:

14th century

1 : a command or principle intended especially as a general rule of action
2 : an order issued by legally constituted authority to a subordinate official.

Leviticus 19:18
Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.

Matthew 5:43
"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.

Matthew 19:19
Jesus replied, " 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother,' and 'love your neighbor as yourself.' "

Matthew 22:39
And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'

Mark 12:31
The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."

Mark 12:33
To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.

Luke 10:27
He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind' ; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' "

Romans 13:9
The commandments, "Do not commit adultery," "Do not murder," "Do not steal," "Do not covet," and whatever other commandment there may be, are summed up in this one rule: "Love your neighbor as yourself."

James 2:8
If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, "Love your neighbor as yourself," you are doing right.

Galatians 5:14
The entire law is summed up in this one precept [see definition above]: "Love your neighbor as yourself."

Download a copy of the poster above by clicking on the image or going to The Plow.

Teaching as Doctrine Rules Made by Men

I started out this morning with a post about the work the family did in the yard and garden yesterday, which will still show its face, I'm sure.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it right now, because I'm feeling a bit bothered by some things, and I'd like to get them off my chest. Here is as good a place as any.

First, let me preface this by saying that I'm not a highly political person. I abstained from voting in the 2008 presidential election because there was not a presidential candidate who represented me. I went to the polls, yes, and I voted on other issues and positions. But when it came right down to it, voting my conscience meant not casting a vote for president.

I was, however, excited about Barrack Obama's election. I think it's an amazing time in history, and, had I voted, I probably would have voted for Obama. Between the two, Barrack Obama lined up more with my political and faith beliefs than did McCain. And while I didn't vote, I'm proud to call Barrack Obama my president. This doesn't mean that I agree with all of his policies or actions, which is partly why I abstained.

But here's what's really on my mind. Ever since the presidential election, I have witnessed some of the ugliest, most selfish, ignorant behavior by my fellow Christians who live in these United States. Immediately after the results were announced, I heard and read young Christian friends say things like, "We're screwed," (by a thirteen-year-old Christian girl) and "My family's moving to Canada," and "I'm stockpiling guns" (by an eighteen-year-old Christian boy) and other things I can't repeat. They've been tossing about terms like "socialist" and "anti-christ" and "commie" and "Muslim" and "terrorist."

But even before the election, this type of talk began flying around in Christian circles, with partial thanks to conservative alarmists who make money by creating fear and anger. Early in the presidential campaign, when I first started hearing about this controversial figure named Barrack Obama, I began watching his speeches online. It was in his Call to Renewal address that I heard him speak these words:

"Faith doesn't mean that you don't have doubts. You need to come to church precisely because you are of this world, not apart from it; you need to embrace Christ precisely because you have sins to wash away - because you are human and need an ally in your difficult journey.

It was because of these newfound understandings that I was finally able to walk down the aisle of Trinity United Church of Christ one day and affirm my Christian faith. It came about as a choice, and not an epiphany; the questions I had did not magically disappear. But kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side of Chicago, I felt I heard God's spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to his will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truth."

Just a few days later, while I was coaching a Christian speech and debate club, one of the teenage girls who I know fairly well warned a group of teens and me that there was a previously unknown Muslim man who must be defeated running for president, that he had even used the Qur'an to be sworn into office (Office? I thought. Didn't you just say he was unknown?), and that he had to be a terrorist; his middle name is Hussein! She and others asserted that we could NOT allow him to be president; his very name sounded like Osama bin Laden's!

I listened patiently, but I was disappointed. Here before me was a young Christian whose hobby was debating and giving speeches, which involves a lot of research into political issues, which involves finding truth, and she was making this claim against a man I had heard days before speaking to an organization which I trusted and respected and making a confession of faith in Christ, submitting himself to God's will. Furthermore, the statements she was making were eerily similar to the ignorant, fear-mongering viral e-mail I'd seen in my inbox earlier that month, an e-mail that could easily be debunked by a quick trip to snopes. The rest of the teens in the room were eagerly nodding their agreement with their peer.

"Have you heard him speak?" I asked.
"No," she answered.
"He's not a Muslim. In fact, he's made a confession of the Christian faith. He's a practicing Christian. He's a fellow believer."

She seemed stunned. I felt like a heathen. I knew that this was not the accepted view in conservative circles and wondered if the parents of these students would shun me. How could this man, a black democrat with a Muslim-sounding name, be one of us?

And while young people are fully able to form opinions of their own, I believe that much of this misinformation, quick judgment and fear-mongering forms around the kitchen table and in the family car. Since the beginning of the presidential race, I've heard many adults spout similar ignorant nonsense.

Just a few weeks ago, I was volunteering at my favorite thrift store when I noticed a female shopper wearing a white t-shirt bearing this message, hand-written with fabric paint in red and blue:

"(Our county) Tea Party: Freedom or Socialism."

When she approached the register, in lieu of a greeting she said to me, "Have you heard the news?" I immediately thought of all of the "news" I've heard over the years that has shaken me--the 9/11 attacks, the Challenger explosion, the Ronald Reagan assassination attempt--and I braced myself.

"We're not a Christian nation," she huffed indignantly.
"I'm sorry?"
"We're not a Christian nation. That's what that Obama is going around the world telling all the other countries."

Because I was representing my favorite thrift store at the time, I didn't feel that I could respond the way I would if I were representing myself, my country and my faith. I wanted to tell her that, yes, President Obama did make the statement that we do not consider ourselves to be a Christian nation...or a Jewish nation...or a Muslim nation, but a nation of citizens bound by a set of values. That even George Washington made it clear, stating that "everyone shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree, and there shall be none to make him afraid." Our tenth president, John Tyler, touted the U.S's "total separation of Church and State" saying that "no religious establishment by law exists among us" leaving the conscience "free from all restraint and each is permitted to worship his Maker after his own judgment." He offered the U.S. as a welcoming place for all, saying, "The Mohammedan, if he will to come among us would have the privilege guaranteed to him by the constitution to worship according to the Koran; and the East Indian might erect a shrine to Brahma, if it so pleased him."

Why is this? Why can we not call the U.S. a Christian nation? It's because our country was founded as a republic, which is a state without a monarch, a state in which the rights of the individual are protected by a charter, in this case, the Constitution, not the Bible. You can have a communist republic or a socialist republic. Your country can be a republic but also a democracy. And, if I'm not mistaken, socialism and communism are economic systems, not forms of government.

Having said all that, let me go back to how all of this affects me personally.

I made a declaration of faith when I was sixteen years old, decided to become a Christian after a young man named Nicholas Giaconia jumped onstage in cut-off blue jeans, shoeless, with guitar in-hand, during a talent show I was judging, having been the reigning Old Fashioned Days queen the previous year. After his performance, I talked to Nick about the song he shared, how it moved me, and he invited me to a concert where he opened for a group called Glad. In the darkness of that hall, I stood and made a commitment to Christ. I was a young girl. I was moved greatly by my emotions. I'm not sure I entirely knew what I was committing to. But in the months, and, indeed, years that followed, I took that commitment seriously, reading my Bible and learning what it meant to be a Christian, one who lives to follow the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. I wasn't really part of a Christian culture. I hadn't been raised in a church. My parents were not believers. I guess you could say that I was a Berean, that I studied the Scriptures daily to know how to live this life I had chosen, without much input from others.

Here are a few of the things I discovered that Jesus taught:

• Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth.
• Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
• Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
• Whoever strikes you on your right cheek, turn to him the other also.
• If anyone sues you to take away your coat, let him have your cloak also.
• Let your will be done, as in heaven, so on earth.
• If you don’t forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
• You can’t serve both God and Mammon.
• Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you.
• He who seeks his life will lose it; and he who loses his life for my sake will find it.
• Every idle word that men speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment.
• I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me drink. I was a stranger, and you took me in. I was naked, and you clothed me. I was sick, and you visited me. I was in prison, and you came to me.
• Put your sword back into its place, for all those who take the sword will die by the sword.

These are the words that, as a sixteen-year-old girl, I had committed to live by. And the more I read the words of Jesus, the things He taught, the more I realized that He knew what He was talking about. I remember, shortly after my commitment to Christianity, having a conversation in my high school civics class centered around politics. I thought it was very simple, and I said so; if we all followed the teachings of Jesus, our biggest world problems would be solved.

I still believe that today.

This morning, as I was hanging out on my favorite social networking site, one of my young politically conservative Christian friends posted this as her status message:

• Socialism: If you own two cows you give one to your neighbour.
• Communism: You give both cows to the government and the government gives you back some of the milk.
• Fascism: You keep the cows but give the milk to the government, which sells some of it back to you.
• Obamaism: You shoot both cows and milk the government.

Several people commented after her, agreeing and laughing, but I couldn't help remembering the day I was representing my favorite thrift store, and the woman who proudly wore her "Freedom or Socialism" t-shirt.

What is it called when you freely give your cow to your neighbor?
Your food?
Your water?
Your time?
When your allegiance isn't to a country?
When you don't serve the dollar?
When you freely, voluntarily, give your life?

Because if the church were doing this first--whatever it is called--if the hands and feet of Christ were freely giving to those in need, the government, which nonetheless rests on the shoulders of Christ, wouldn't need to bother.

I think it's time that the Christians take seriously the words of Chronicles 7:14:

"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble [emphasis mine] themselves...then will I hear from heaven, will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

Because in addition to those red-letter words I mentioned before? There's this one, which I definitely don't want to be guilty of:

• These people draw near to me with their mouth, and honor me with their lips; but their heart is far from me, and in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrine rules made by men. ~Matthew 15:9.
  

::: of god and gas cans :::

My friend Catherine reminded me that I hadn't told my sappy, almost-unbelievable miracle story. Actually, she and her mom have reminded me repeatedly. And on Tuesday, I promised her that I'd have it up the next day.

Guess what I didn't do?

Better really, really late than never ever.

So here's my tale...

In early November, a silly mother named Thicket Dweller was fighting with her checkbook. It seemed that no matter how she counted her pennies, there wasn't enough to go around. There was always a washing machine breaking down, or a car tire going flat, or a surprise expense of some sort that would zap her budget. But she knew that she needed to get very busy thanking God for what she did have, because there was always food available, and her children were healthy, and she lived in a beautiful farmhouse on the top of the loveliest hill in all the county. But, even so, she was feeling sad because Thanksgiving was coming, and she had just used all of her spendable money on real estate taxes. That was another reason to thank God! Just a month before, she had been certain that they would not be able to pay those taxes, but through the intervention of God and the kindness of others, that bill had been paid. Even still, as is the nature of Thicket Dweller, she was a pitiful soul, feeling sorry for herself because she knew that her kids were really looking forward to a Thanksgiving feast, and, as we all know, Christmas comes right on the heels of November.

Thicket Dweller knew that her regular grocery budget would never cover the extra groceries that her family's traditional Thanksgiving would require, and it certainly wouldn't cover the upcoming Christmas tradition. Even if she did what she'd done in past years, which was scour the thrift and used bookstores for appropriate gifts for her children, buy nothing for her husband and extended family, and make cookies or candies for neighbors, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stretch this budget far enough to buy a real tree or purchase the new Christmas Eve pajamas her children had become accustomed to opening. She might not even be able to hit the thrift stores.

It was Wednesday morning when her husband told her that the decision for the week would be to pay the mortgage or buy groceries. She knew that paying the mortgage was the right thing to do, the necessary thing, but she didn't feel like baking bread and eating rice all week. What's more, she had volunteered to teach a women's history class for her local homeschool group on Wednesday, and the needle on her gas tank was teetering just below the "empty" line. The gas for her vehicle usually came from the grocery budget. If she could scrounge up enough change, she might be able to make it to the closest gas station. So, with her syllabus in hand and her head hanging a bit lower than usual, she made her way to the car, knowing that just having a vehicle was a privilege.

Thicket Dweller's the sort who always runs herself short of time. One more phone call. One more load of laundry. One more check of the e-mail. And then there would be something she couldn't have expected. A flat tire. A broken tie rod. A sick or inconsolable child. And then, she would find herself panicked and hurried, certain that someone would be waiting for her angrily, deeming her irresponsible or thoughtless. This Wednesday was no exception, for she had taken the phone call of a friend who was feeling very down. They talked for a while, and Thicket Dweller tried hard not to watch the clock as her friend told her that she had a box for her waiting in her garage. Could she pick it up today? While Thicket Dweller loved her friend dearly and so wanted to stop and see her, she knew that she wouldn't have time. But she said she'd try, hurriedly hung up the phone, and raced to the car, cringing as she watched the gas needle barely quiver forward as she started the engine. She found herself fighting against the temptation to go just a teensy weensy bit above the speed limit. But knowing that she had only a handful of change, and knowing that the faster she would drive, the more gas her car would consume, she had just enough incentive to keep her commitment to driving the speed limit.

As she rolled into the parking lot of the closest station, she couldn't believe her eyes. All of the guns were covered with ghostly white plastic bags, and the sign above the station stood void of numbers. No gas. Now what? The closest station from here was beyond the history class site! And she surely didn't have enough gas to get to that station, anyway!

With no cell phone to call home, she decided she would just make her way to class and pray that God would see her there safely. Once there, maybe she could find someone to run her to a station to fill up a gas can. And so, she eased out of the parking lot and crept along the road towards the classes.

As she climbed the hill a half-mile before the class site, she remembered the conversation she'd had that morning with her friend who had asked her to please stop by. She had a box of things for Thicket Dweller that she would leave in the garage, some garden seeds and books she no longer needed. The house was right there, directly on her route to classes. Thicket Dweller knew that she should stop, but she was feeling rushed and stressed, so she told herself she'd stop later. This decision just didn't settle with her, and she tried to justify why she should keep moving. She would be late for class. If she ran out of gas, and her friend wasn't home, she'd be stuck there with no phone and no way to let her students or husband know she was stranded. If her friend was home, she might get into a meaningful conversation and run herself even later.

But no matter what she told herself, she couldn't agree. Reluctantly, she found herself turning the steering wheel and swinging into the friend's drive; her only comfort was believing that she was obeying something she couldn't see. What she could see was that there were no cars sitting there; her friend was not home.

Just as her car pulled fully into the drive, it sputtered. Out of gas. She was able to coax the car just a few more feet before it refused to move another inch. She let her head drop back against the seat and closed her eyes in disbelief and defeat.

Not knowing what else to do, she opened the door of the car and swung her feet out. There, beside her feet, was a five-gallon gas can. She could hardly believe her eyes. She rushed to the can and lifted it. Yes! It was heavy with gas! Knowing that her friend would offer her the gas if she were home, Thicket Dweller put some of it in her tank, listening with amazement to the glug, glug, glug that the fluid made as it left the can.

Oh yeah, she thought, I need to get that box she has for me. There it was, in front of the garage, a box full of beautiful books, a gift for her soul. Here was one on Tasha Tudor's garden, and here was another on herbs, and yet another on edible flowers. It was like her friend knew that she needed a bit of spoiling, that he heart was dragging a bit and needed to be lifted. On the top sat a bundle of garden seeds that she would gladly plant the following Spring, and, on top of that, an envelope. Likely a card or a note explaining what the seeds were, why she was giving her the books.

Thicket Dweller carried the box to the car and climbed in. How good God is, she thought, that He knew just what I needed today! Even as she said it, she knew how sappy it sounded. But it was so true!

Starting the car, she coasted to the bottom of the drive. The traffic was heavy, so she sat waiting, knowing that even though her class would be starting very soon, it would all be okay. She could be patient. She could wait.

The envelope sat on the top of the box, inviting her to open it, so she put the car in park and ran her finger along the inside seam of the flap, exposing the note inside.

Along with a bundle of cash.

Thicket Dweller could not believe her eyes. She checked the front of the envelope. Yes, it had her name on it. Tearing open the card, she read the note from her friend, explaining that she had found this money in a dresser drawer while doing some cleaning, money she had forgotten was there, and felt compelled to give it to Thicket Dweller. A Christmas gift, she wrote. Buy some nice dishes, the note said. Buy something nice for yourself and a gift for each of the kids, it said. Pulling the money from the envelope, she counted.

There was enough there for the mortgage. There was enough for groceries. There was enough for a tankful of gas.

Thicket threw her head back and cried out loud. "God, why? What have I done to deserve this?" Tears sprung from her eyes, and soon she was sobbing uncontrollably, crying out, "I don't deserve you! I don't deserve this!"

And she was right. She had done nothing to deserve it.

The truth was that her friend loved and obeyed God, and that God was very, very good. It wasn't a reward. It wasn't payment. It was a gift.

So, Catherine, there's the story. I know it took me a long time to write it, and I didn't do it justice, but I know that God's timing is perfect, and that this is a story someone needed to read today.

Hosting Houseconcerts

One of the dreams that we had as we hoped and planned for our future home was to gather people from every corner to listen to live music in our living room. It was a dream that began way, way back when Bard was a tiny child and I started looking for venues where we could host live concerts as part of a branch of our then-church. That church wasn't very supportive of my vision, and, eventually, we found ourselves leaving not only the church but making a home in a whole new community.

It was then that our dream of building a home came true. With a lot of cooperation from friends and a lot of hard work and perseverance, we were able to build a house that could not only house our growing family, but our love of gathering as well.

So, for the past several years, we have hosted several houseconcerts--musicians from all different genres and geographic locations--and have welcomed guests from nearby and far away. The musicians bring their unique style and feel, and the guests bring food and applause, and I get to sit on my couch, surrounded by creativity, inspiration, good friends and candles, and pinch myself, wondering if this is all really happening.

Tonight, we will welcome our very first female solo performers, Jan Krist and Kitty Donohoe for a small, intimate houseconcert on this snowy day. We'll all snuggle in and pinch ourselves. Maybe we'll even get snowed in and we'll all have to share this big house long into the night.

When things are kind of rough, and times are a bit frustrating, I remember that this was a dream that God brought to fruition, and I find myself amazed.

You can look at The Sprouted Acorn website for information on upcoming concerts this year. If you find yourself in our area, stop in and say hi, and we can share this big house--and the dream--with each other.

He Meets Me in the Shower

I'm gonna tell you something you may find hard to believe, but it's completely and totally true.

Ready?

God is so very good.

I'm serious about this. I mean, I have always believed this in kind of a dutiful, removed sort of way, but He has repeatedly proven Himself to be so amazing that I'm having a hard time keeping myself from climbing onto the roof and exclaiming the wonders of His ways.

I have to preface this by saying that I have NEVER been the kind of person to couch all of my words in "Yeah, God" language. My verbiage has never been dotted with phrases of praise.

That's not to say that my relationship with God is marginal or superfluous; I think my life fits the bill for 1 Thes. 5:17: "Pray all the time." I go to God with everything I consciously think of to take to Him. But outwardly? I guess I'm just not a showy type of Christian.

But some things are just too good to keep to myself.

Where does God meet you? I've known people who literally had a prayer closet. A man in church told me that he meditates in a tree stand while he's deer hunting. My children get the bulk of their prayer time around the kitchen table or while I'm kneeling beside their beds. But me?

God meets me in the shower.

Some of the most amazing things come to me while the water is flowing over my face. I plug the tub and let the warmth cover my feet. Sometimes I think. Often I sing. Occasionally I cry.

Last week was a crying week.

But it was also a week of thankfulness, because even though I felt like there were problems in my life that I'd never be able to overcome, even my flesh was able to recognize that God has always provided for me. Always! Without fail! When I have been in need, God has come through for me in the most amazing ways that even I, in my human stupidity, can recognize.

And so I stood in the shower thanking God for his provision in my life and the lives of my children. It was a conversation, really, and it went a bit like this:

"I'm a pretty selfish person, you know?"

Water slapping the sides of the shower.

"But You've never let me down. I mean when I really need something, You make sure it's there. How do You do that? Why do You do that? It's incredible, really."

Drops travel over my face and drip off the end of my nose.

"Right now, I have everything I need."

"except the algebra book..."

"Well, yeah. Except for the Algebra book. But that's no big deal. I mean, yeah, Bard really needs that book, and, yeah, she's really far behind in her lessons because I'm such a dope and didn't budget for the one textbook she needs this year, but..."

"order the book..."

"Ha! Ha ha! Yeah, God! That's a good one! Um...have you seen my checking account balance? I can't order the book! It would be irresponsible. Actually, it would be impossible..."

"order the book. expedite the shipping. order the book now..."

It was a fairly clear directive. So I dried off, made my way to the computer, and I began searching for the book.

Amazing fact number one: the book was literally 1/3 the price it had been at the beginning of the school year. Supply and demand and all that, I assume.

Amazing face number two: due to a fabulous promotional campaign on the part of the company I ordered from, not only did I get the book for FREE but walked away from the keyboard with a $5 credit. No, I'm not making this up.

What's funny is this; I have another story to tell that's bigger, more amazing, and even more incredibly, unbelievably hokie. But it's TRUE, I tell you! As a matter of fact, when I told the story to my husband, he sat dumbfounded and then proceeded to tell me that if I were to write the story, no one would believe it for its sheer hokiness. It would have no plot! It would be a like a Guideposts tale!

Yet it happened, and I have to tell it.

But you've stuck with me this long, dear reader. I'll give your eyes and my fingers a rest.

Go grab a shower, sit in your prayer closet, hang out in a tree stand...whatever. Just talk to God, and I'll meet you back here tomorrow.