Eggplant debacle

I think that the picture speaks for itself, but if it doesn't, feel free to ask away. The answer is boring...I was too tired to be cooking at my normal thinking level!

Don't you just hate it sometimes!

Yesterday God and I had a little argument in the car. I had just been berated and belittled by a parent via phone, and I was crying brokenheartedly when God reminded me:

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

This is the verse I had been meditating on yesterday morning. My comments to God went something like this: "Just because you place a verse on my heart less than 12 hours ago, doesn't mean you have to give me a chance to live it out right away!"

And God just chuckled, "Of course it does."

Don't you just hate it sometimes when God immediately provides an opportunity for you to live out His word immediately! Guess He has to hit me while it's still fresh in my mind, forgetful as I am. Needless to say I'm trying to delight in weaknesses and insults and trying not to dwell on the untruths that so want to penetrate my heart.

Independent?

So I'm posting, try not to die of shock! It won't be a long post because I have to get back to the school grind, but I thought I'd share this interesting revelation I've been mulling over for the last week and a half.

When Lori and I met a few weeks ago, we were talking about helplessness, and how it is a frowned upon attribute in our society, but a coveted attribute in our walk with God. It then hit me...

In our society, as we age and grow the goal is to become more independent. Parents try to train their kids so that they can eventually leave and survive on their own. But this is counter to what God asks of us. As we grow more in our relationship with God, our goal, or rather His goal for us, is to recognize our dependence on Him.

It is so hard for us to admit we are helpless, incapable, that we are in need of guidance, but that is the exact humility God is asking of us. So one of my new goals is to admit I need help. I want to become more dependent on the Maker, be more honest about my brokenness and short comings. Scary goal? Absolutely! Freeing decision? Absolutely!

Irresponsible Passion

It's time for me to report on the new book I'm reading. You know how I roll. I read a new book, find some amazing passages and feel compelled to share them. I am currently reading Dangerous Wonder by Michael Yaconelli, a book about having a childlike faith. There are times that it's challenged my ideas, challenged my perception of God, but this morning the truth resonated. Two quotes invaded my heart and mind and have left me seeking an irresponsible passion, not unlike the passion God has for us. The first quote led the chapter:

"I'm discovering that a spiritual journey is a lot like a poem. You don't merely recite a poem or analyze it intellectually. You dance it, sing it, cry it, feel it on your skin and in your bones. You move with it and feel its caress. It falls on you like a teardrop or wraps around you like a smile. It lives in the heart and the body as well as the spirit and the head." Sue Monk Kidd

This resonates with the English teacher in me. I don't just want kids to be able to analyze poetry, literature, words, but instead internalize them, allow the words to become a part of who they are. What an awesome representation of that!

The second passage is a story. Read through it, try to let go of the rule-following, law-abiding portions of yourself and see the beauty of the gift this little boy is giving:

"A young father, a typical type-A personality, followed the same routine every workday. He would arrive home around 5:30 P.M., park the car in the garage, walk out to the driveway with briefcase in hand, pick up the newspaper, proceed to the front door, enter the house, place the briefcase in the hallway, put the newspaper on the couch in the living room, then walk down the long hallway to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, he would open the cupboard, take out a glass, and place it on the counter. He would then open the refrigerator, reach for the carton of milk, walk over to the glass, our the glass full of milk, and return the milk to the refrigerator. Without thinking, he would pick up the glass of cold milk, grab a cookie from the cookie jar on the counter, and walk to the living room where he would sit down, power up the television with the remote, watch the news while drinking his milk and eating his cookie, sometimes stopping during commercials to browse through the newspaper. His routine had been the same for many years, and, unbeknownst to him, his three-year-old son had noticed.

One night the father came home from work and began his usual routine. As he stepped into the hallway, setting his briefcase and newspaper down, he looked up to see his son standing down the hall, a smile on his face, obviously anticipating his father's return. Dad knew something was up, so he stopped and watched his son turn around and head for the kitchen. Pleasantly surprised, the dad crept to the edge of the kitchen to see what his son was up to. The little boy ran to the corner of the kitchen, pulled out the bottom drawer (which he was not supposed to do), stepped on the drawer, climbed onto the counter (which he was not supposed to do), reached into the cupboard, and pulled on a glass, knocking the other glasses over. Thankfully, none of them broke. With glass in hand, the little boy scooted back down onto the drawer, then to the floor, and ran over to the cookie jar. He reached up as high as he could and, barely grasping the jar, knocked it over and spilled cookies all over the floor. Oblivious to his father, he scooped all the cookies up and put them back on the counter, except for one. He picked up the remaining cookie, ran over to the refrigerator door, and reached inside and grabbed the plastic half-gallon container of milk. Awfully heavy for a three-year-old, it promptly fell to the floor, which knocked the top off and spilled a little milk all over the floor. Any other evening the father would have yelled at his son by this time, pointing out the terrible mess he was making. Instead, he sensed something much more important was happening here; he patiently waited as the little boy picked up the cookie and the glass of milk and came running to him with a huge smile on his face. The dad threw his arms around his son and said, 'Thank you, Son!' Dad realized his son was giving him a wonderful gift."

Isn't that beautiful!? How precious and reckless true passion and love can be! It isn't always neat and orderly. There won't always be tidy bows wrapped around our passionate actions. Sometimes in the most wildly abandoned moments we find the truest joy, the most beautiful of life's treasures. I want to embrace life, to pour glasses of milk and spill cookies in attempts to show others how loved they are! May my love for others and for God be a passionate mess, and may I be less concerned about the trail of cookies left behind in my wake.

Centennial

That's right! This is post number 100 for me! I can't believe I've had something uninteresting or interesting to say 100 times! I was waiting for something eventful or poignant to fill this 100th post, but I decided that that was not my real motivation for the blog. The blog was designed for me to share my life with the world; not just the intriguing parts of my life, but my life, blemishes and all. Thus I'll use this post to address what blogging has meant to me.

I heard it once said that the best part of friendship is that we have the opportunity to bear witness to one another's life. I love this! I love stories, I love to know what is going on in other people's world. I love to tell stories, read stories, live stories, watch stories. Storytelling is a most important art in my world. In fact I have a wall hanging that reads "Home is where your story begins." How very me! So this blog has been a way for me to share my stories with the world, perhaps even the beginnings of the my novel-to-be. Thank you readers for delving into my world of stories!

This blog has also served as a form of prayer. It is here I've born witness to the ways in which God has worked in my life. It is here I have cried out for wisdom, peace, guidance. It is here that I've cataloged my spiritual journey. Thank you for praying with me and for me!

It is here that I've processed life. If you weren't aware, I'm an external processor. Everything I'm thinking about or struggling with has to be talked through. Even before I wrote my essays in college I had to explain what I was going to say to my mom or husband. Blogging has been a sounding board for my thoughts, a place to vent or think through the events of my world. Thank you for letting me process with you!

I guess I just want to thank you for taking this journey with me, for listening to the ramblings of this English teacher. Here's to another one hundred more!

Home sweet home

I know this is the long awaited post. It seems like an eternity ago that I posted pictures from our first night in the house. Since then there's been painting, packing, moving, unpacking, organizing, and finally the feeling of settled! I'm so happy to feel settled before starting school tomorrow; I can't imagine trying to teach and still deal with the house. Of course there's now tons more space to clean, but we're so happy to be home. SO I'll post all of the before pictures (with the original owner's stuff in it and sans paint) and the after pictures (taken with all of our stuff and paint colors filling the house.) The after pictures were taken today and also include me with my newly cut hair. I donated to locks of love yesterday in memory of Aunt Kelly. I think she'd like the hair and the house. :-)

So here we go! Before:



















Sorry they aren't in order (blogger hates me today!) The following are pictures of the painting crew and the house after moving. Enjoy!






















The last two are from earlier on in the house buying process, but they give a pretty good view of the front of the house. Suffice it to say, we are SO excited to have each of you over. I can't wait to cook for you in my new kitchen and Herb can't wait to play Wii with you in the living room! We hope you enjoy our home as much as we do!

Anticipation and Faithfulness

At church last night Pastor Bryan asked us to think about the theme of our lives for 2008. After brief ponderings I came up with anticipation. Anticipation of Herb graduating, anticipation for Herb's bar results, anticipation in getting a house. The waiting is how I initially characterized my year.

But then before communion Bryan prompted us to think about how God worked in our lives in 2008. So I began to scrutinize the details of our year more closely. Here's what I came up with:

Last winter began the long haul for Herb to complete his thesis paper for graduation. Not only was he challenged to find enough research, but in the final weeks he was asked to write a second paper. We questioned and feared that he might not graduate, but he did. The Lord was faithful to walk us through the anxiety and fears of those papers and left us joyfully tearful for huge accomplishments in May.

June began the push for the bar exam. Hours of studying, practice exams full of frustration, wondering if enough time was being invested. No surety in the results of the exam. July came and went, and with prayers and much waiting October arrived with a passing score. God was faithful to walk beside us as we waited on His timing and His results.

August found me heart broken in my classroom. The book was pulled, my teaching methods and ideas were questioned, and my students were torn apart. I lost faith in myself, I wondered if I truly was called to teaching, and I pondered where I belonged. By November I was sitting in Borders Books listening to my students speak so profoundly about the book and other novels, and like a proud mama I basked in how God is faithful to make all things good.

November also brought crumbling dreams of our first bid on a house. The home we initially hoped for fell through the cracks. Heartbreak and questioning ensued again. Couldn't one thing go right? But oh how our Father was faithful to place the perfect home in our laps! How beautiful His blessing and how covered in love this home is, just in time for the holidays!

In the midst of communion last night I realized that the theme for this year may have been anticipation on my human end of things, but God's theme for my year was His faithfulness. I am constantly drawn to this characteristic of God, it's an attribute I love and adore often. Yet the wonder and beauty of His faithfulness is new every morning, every year, especially this year. And I realized that it's more than His faithfulness I see as beautiful. Each of the hardships, though seemingly ugly in the midst, created such beautiful, awe-inspiring moments in my life this year. If I didn't have to live through the brokenness, would I have fully seen the joy? If these blessings had been easily granted to me, would I have seen them as the rich blessings they are? If the journey was a straight path, would I fully see and appreciate my steady, unchanging, faithful God leading me? Probably not. 2008 was full of heart ache and joy, waiting and unveiling, questioning and faith, but it was also always full of a faithful God.