Love

Love has a hem to her garment
That reaches the very dust.
It sweeps the stains
From the streets and lanes,
And because it can, it must.

-Mother Teresa

Reconciling Beliefs or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Christ.(A Guest post from Dustin Christian)

Another post from Dustin Christian of Daddy Geek: Raising the Dungeonmasters of Tomorrow. Today he talks about reconciling the differences in his wife's and his faith and beliefs.

Reconciling Beliefs or: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Christ

To me, “Christian” is nothing more than my last name. It's a last name that my wife loves because it's applied to her for as long as she can remember, but it's just a name to me.
Rhonda grew up with God as a constant presence in her life. I grew up unsure if God even exists.
I wasn't raised as an Atheist – most of my family considers themselves Christians (the church kind, not the last name kind) and would probably answer the classic question “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?” with an automatic, knee-jerk yes.
I've been to church, I even know the Lord's prayer by heart, but I've always been the type to question everything and forge my own path. Most church leaders I met didn't like it when a kid constantly questioned their faith, even if I was just trying to understand and reconcile what I saw as inconsistencies. Being constantly told to sit down and shut up, and seeing hypocrites like Jimmy Swaggart and Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker on the television (and hearing about the worst kept secret of pedophile priests) left me full of distrust and disdain for organized religion in general and evangelical Christians in particular.

I went from being Christian by default to agnostic to atheist to... undefined. I've studied and dabbled in other religions, faiths, and philosophies, and developed my own spiritual ideas. I could write thousands of words on the subject, but I now call myself an open-minded agnostic, for the sake of simplicity. I tend to believe there is probably a higher power, but I don't think it matters what you call that higher power – or if you even decide to call that power anything at all – as long as you try to be the best person you can possibly be.

I've never reconciled myself with closed-minded hypocrites of any faith, however. I doubt any one faith has all the answers, and they have to many commonalities to dismiss each other out of hand.

I'd reached the open-minded agnostic, live-and-let-live stage by the time I met Rhonda. But people who were extremely vocal about their faith still made me nervous, and Rhonda definitely wears her faith on her sleeve. As someone with such strong faith, she had never even considered spending her life with somebody who didn't share that faith. And, since we both had kids, any relationship had to beviewed with a consideration towards long-term implications.

While we were very interested in each other, religion was a potential deal-breaker.

When we talked about what we really believed, though, we found that we actually agreed on most things. Rhonda was raised in a Christian family in a heavily Christian small town, but had her own ideas about what was right and what was wrong. While she was without a doubt a Christian, she could see the value in other belief systems and agreed that, as long as they were focused on trying to bethe best person you could be, they were on the right track.
I believe that we've come to the same point from different paths. If I had been raised going to church every Sunday, I'd probably have a lot more faith. If she was raised away from church, she'd probably be a lot more skeptical – though I hope not as cynical as I am. I know that we've influenced each other. I've made Rhonda question things more and consider life from perspectives other than the Christian viewpoint, and she has caused me to have more faith and become more spiritual.

But I digress.

No matter how much we might agree, there was still the big question – once we were sure that ours was a long-term relationship – of how we would raise our children. Rhonda had never considered anything other than raising her kids as Christians and, while I had moved past my issues with Christianity, I wasn't comfortable with my kids being taught that there was only one way. Besides, I'm still not comfortable with a lot of the “morals” that many Christians profess.
In the end, we decided that the boys will make up their own minds about faith and religion. It's inevitable that Christianity will be the first thing they're exposed to. In this country (and particularly this state), they'll also be exposed to Christianity most often. I'm not looking forward to the day when I have to contradict some of the things the boys will hear (especially from their grandfather who is born-again and thus insists there's no other way to be), but at least I can do that without getting angry. I'm sure there will be bigger fights over the racism and homophobia they'll eventually hear from Rhonda's uncles and other bigots.

Rhonda had the idea of taking them to mosques, temples, and gatherings of other faiths, and I would love to do that – if they show interest. I'm not forcing anything on them. If and when they have questions, we'll answer them as openly and honestly as we know how. I hope it can wait long enough that they'll be able to grasp why Mommy and Daddy don't believe exactly the same things, but we'll do what we must.

The most important thing I can teach my kids is that everyone is different, and different ideas are not only okay – they're essential.

Saint Francis by Robert West

Quite a while back, Thomas Moore publishers sent me a copy of the biography" St. Francis" by Robert West (part of the Christian Encounters series). I have never been much of a biography reader but thought that I would give this one a try because of my deep love for St. Francis of Assisi. I enjoyed the style of this book; it was written more as a book of fiction, easy to read, in a conversational tone.

The book takes us from the saints early years as an out of control child of privilege to his conversion and ultimate leadership of the Franciscan order of monks. It goes into detail about the orders early years, when just a few of St. Francis's friends joined him and pledged to give away all of their earthly possessions (so that these possessions would not take away from their worship of God) and the pope's early disapproval of St. Francis's radical views. As we know, time went by and more and more people witnessed the divine peace that the monks of the order modeled, causing scores of new entrants into the order. Today, the Franciscans continue their belief of relying on God for all provision, charity, and worship.

St. Francis was a man who demonstrated a powerful love for God and devotion to his practice of faith. Through him we learned to trust that the Lord would supply all of our needs. This book gives great insight into the man and his mission. I give it 4 out of 5 stars.

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Gratitude: What Are You Grateful For?

At this moment, I am grateful for:

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* Air conditioning - I can't imagine this heat wave without it and feel for those who are without

* Chocolate - when I am recovering from a migraine, I always crave chocolate. Maybe it's that love feeling that it give you.

* A toddler who tells me he loves me about 100 times a day

* Imitrex

* Cicada song - I love that sound

* God's grace - My thought life has been sucky of late; His grace sustains me

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* Tiger lilies

* red winged blackbirds

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* a refrigerator covered with toddler artwork

* a husband who not only loves me, but thinks I'm hot!

* Quickie, who snuggled with me all afternoon

My Quickie

We Must Pray: Thoughts on Oslo and Amy

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As you may remember, after the tsunami in Japan, I wrote a blog about ways to supply aid to the Japanese (incidently, your help is still needed; the Japanese have a long road ahead of them). Then came the tornadoes in Alabama and Joplin, flooding along the Mississippi; it felt like a seeming endless stretch of destruction and need. Last weeks events felt like the straw that broke the camel's back: what can we do to prevent such tragedy?

I was immediately brainstorming relief efforts for Oslo and then it occurred to me. The Norwegians need prayer. Endless and unceasing prayer. Prayer for healing from such unexpected tragedies, prayer for the families of the dead, prayer to continue life, prayer not exactly for understanding, but for some sense of developing closure.

Prayer for the stunned family of Anders Behring Breivik as they struggle with his actions and for the man himself, so convicted in his beliefs that he went to atrocious lengths. And for forgiveness; remember, even Jesus forgave the robber on the cross, who now sits with him in heaven.

Shower the country of Norway and all those affected with unceasing prayer. Pray fervently so that they may feel your love and compassion. Pray with conviction so that God may grant miracles unto them. Pray that the Norwegians receive the healing that they need.

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In my mind, there really is no distinction between tragedy in Oslo and an uncontrollable addiction that takes the life of an amazing talent. The thing with Amy Winehouse is that we all know someone, either a relative or acquaintance, who has so much to give, such genius or talent, but has been taken by addiction. An addiction that has such a grip on them that it may never let go. And addiction that may claim them.

People scoff and say "It was all her fault. She should have gotten clean. She knew how bad off she was." She tried to get clean. Or at least appeared to. I know addicts, people who are kind, generous people but have been possessed, it seems, by their drug. They'd love to be clean, but they can't break free. And so their life becomes a cycle of rehab and relapse, until the end comes.

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When Tim was in the grips of addiction, all I knew to do was pray. The helplessness that I felt for him and for my ability to do anything was overwhelming. I fought with God. I told him how much I hated what he was doing to us. But it was all a prayer, and God was listening. While it wont happen with everyone, Tim has been sober for five years. I praise God for that.

So pray for those wracked with addictions, no matter what they are: drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, they all can take a person. Pray for their families, who so much want to help and get back the person they once knew, but nothing seems to work. Pray that God will make a mighty change in the lives of all addicts to loosen the stronghold that addiction has over them. Be their prayer when they feel too helpless to pray. Pray that they will feel love and compassion, not hate and rejection. That help will come to them and they will Change, fundamentally, to their very depths, so that they can become the person whom God made them to be.

Pray without ceasing. We Must Pray

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Sanctuary

The last week was filled with the type of madness that you think only happens in the news or Law and Order until it happens to someone you love. I was searching for a poetic or prosaic way to say all of this, but there's really nothing poetic about it. On Saturday my step children's grandmother and my friend Tammy Bohrer was shot and killed at work by a disgruntled customer who then went outside and shot herself. The days after were spent in tears and trying to make sense out of something that is truly senseless. I reverted to the comfort of my bed (she told me that she considered me her daughter-in-law and was immediately warm and kind to me), the kids tried to stay busy, my husband (she was his deceased wife Tara's mother) wandered around in a state of shock.

This is a woman who, more than anyone I have ever known, was at a joyful, peaceful spot in her life. She loved God and wasn't afraid to tell anyone that she did. She was truly, completely sober for the first time in her life. She had met and fallen deeply in love with her husband of 1 1/2 years. She talked about life, her grandchildren, love, everything with the most spectacularly beautiful glow and smile on her face.

Her funeral was beautiful. Her son Tom talked about savoring everyone and every moment and leaving pettiness and anger behind as you really never know when God will bring you home. And the ministers, her father-in-law and stepdad, both talked about the glory of heaven and the radiance that she is living in with Tara, her daughter who she missed so deeply and viscerally. Rather than leaving more broken than healed, everyone left uplifted with a sense of the true blessing that God allowed Tammy, a place in His kingdom.

Yesterday was the first day that felt at all normal again. The picture above is from a trip to the waterfall at Griggs Reservoir, a sanctuary in the middle of suburban Columbus. Climb down a few stairs, follow a startlingly beautiful path, and the roar creeps up on you, the spray cools on a hot day, naked toes can wade in a rocky stream, and little four-year-old boys can throw rocks with a "plop" into clear waters. A magical spot for much needed sanctuary.

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What I should have known all along

A few weeks ago to a realization that has made my life inexorably less stressful and more fulfilling: when I meet God, He isn't going to ask me how clean my house was. Instead, he will focus on my interactions with his creation. Was I a good mother and wife? Was I there for those who needed me? Did I turn away the angels on my doorstep?

Don't believe me? Read this:

At the Home of Martha and Mary

"Mary and Martha," Maurice Denis

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:38-42

Jesus isn't giving us permission to be slobs, but what he is doing is telling us that we have to focus on those things that are truly important. My family will always be more important than my kitchen floor. Always. So think once again about a question that I am sure you've been encountered with before: Are you a Mary or a Martha? What are the consequences and positives of your answer? Are you focusing on what is important or what you think needs to get done?

When your husband is scared

I LOVE my husband. It's a solid, quiet love. It's not crazy, shake the rafters and stare at each other in total awe love (although that does happen occasionally); instead, it's mature and happy and solid.

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For those of you who are newer readers, about 3 years ago, my husband was hit by one of those huge passenger trucks while he was riding a moped. He was going straight through a green light, the truck didn't yield and turned left directly into him. He was thrown 20 feet and his lower left leg was completely shattered. He was rushed into emergency surgery to reconstruct the bones in his leg and after 6ish hours of surgery he emerged with many plates, screws, stitches, and skin grafts holding his leg together.

His recovery was incredibly bad. His pain was impossible to control and he spent 2 weeks in the hospital and a month in an aftercare facility. It took him months after that before he could walk anywhere; we still have a wheelchair ramp going up to our front door. But very slowly he improved to the point that he could walk with a custom leg brace and a cane.

Then 6 months ago he started to fall. For no reason his leg would give out and he would fall out. Several times a week. And it hurt a great deal. A trip to the orthopedist revealed a large bone cyst in his knee and severe arthritis. He needed a knee replacement but the regular orthopedists had no clue how to do it.


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Enter Dr. Bruce French, trauma orthopedist extraordinaire. CT scans that he ordered revealed that Tim was missing a significant sliver of bone in the middle of his lower leg. The plan was to remove all of his hardware, do a bone graft, and then once that healed (time frame unknown), he would need a knee replacement. Tim wanted nothing to do with this. The pain that he had experienced before was too great. He would be above the pain and continue with life.

Until 2 weeks ago when he heard a pop in his leg, swelling in a new area (where there is a plate) occurred) and he could no longer place any weight on his leg. For the past two weeks he's had to lay in bed. And go out of his mind with cabin fever. At an emergency appointment with Dr. French on Friday, he finally agreed to surgery, and will go under the knife this Wednesday.


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To say that he is stunned is putting it mildly. He is terrified. He keeps trying to convince himself and me that he doesn't need the surgery. But then the pain returns and his leg gives out. And he realizes it has to happen.

When I heard that surgery was going to happen, I wanted to pick him up and hold him like a baby. I wanted to take away all of the fear. I prayed to turn into that nurse in Harry Potter and be able to give him a horrible tasting medicine that would grow his bones back. I felt useless and like I should be able to do something to make t all better, but I couldn't. Have you ever received news and were immediately struck by total exhaustion? I was at that moment.

For the last two days I have been in cuddle my husband mode. I have been holed up in the bedroom with him just to be with him. I don't want him to be alone. I want to do everything I can to keep his mind off of the upcoming surgery. I want to take his fear away and embody it, to deal with is pain, to give him respite.


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Then I realized that he has God for that. Paul told us in God's good word "Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." (2 Corintians 4:16-18) No matter what Tim experiences in this world, it is all transient, never everlasting, and the things beyond life will be more glorious and brilliant than we can ever imagine.

Still, I hope this operation makes his time in this life less painful and much more bearable. Because when your husband is scared and you love him more that you can ever say, what more could you wish for?

Remembering my Thank You's

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I've been thinking a lot lately about parental love. How two cells grow to thousands, the baby is born, and this switch turns on and immediately you are in love with this new creature that you've never seen before. As a mom, I had the added bonus of watching William move around in my belly, felt him kicking my kidneys and bladder, felt occasional hiccups, and had immense changes occur to my body. After 7 months my body was done, I developed pre-eclampsia, and William had to come. I only got a passing glance before he was taken to the NICU, and I didn't see him for another 36 hours. I wasn't allowed out of bed and he couldn't see me. Those were an excruciating 36 hours. But then I went to the NICU, I saw my baby, and I was instantly in love. Just like that.

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What sort of amazing power is this love that we feel for our children? We can be totally indifferent to other's kids, and then ours enters the room and that love explodes. It's like a switch in our brain that God has equipped us with.

I can lay for hours at night looking at William sleep. If he's sick, I'll stay up all night holding him so that he feels better and is cared for. I may be sleepy the next morning and cranky to everyone else, but I know I'd do it again in a second. This love gives us the yearning to do everything to keep our children safe, to make them feel loved. It makes the trivial moments in our kids lives feel amazing. It's what gets us through school choir concerts and soccer games in the freezing rain.

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Can you imagine Abraham when God told him to take his only son, the one that he and Sarah had waited so many years for, the boy that Made Sarah laugh with disbelief when she learned that she was pregnant in her old age, the boy that all of their love and pride was centered on, the one that would carry on Abraham's legacy. Can you imagine God asking Abraham to give Him Isaac as a sacrifice? I always wonder if Abraham initially thought, "Umm, not gonna happen, Big Guy." That's what I would think.

And then He takes Isaac up to the mountain top and lays him on an alter and does exactly what God had asked of him. He raised his knife, preparing to take the life of his only son. God stops him just in the nick of time and supplies a lamb for the sacrifice. Isaac had been a test of Abraham's loyalty and devotion. And Abraham passed.

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I have to tell you right now, I don't know if I would pass that test. My love for my children is too deep. I'd rather give myself, as I'm sure many of you understand.

God will never ask that of me, though, because He did exactly what he had asked Abraham to do with His only son - led Him to the slaughter as a sacrifice for us. I would imagine, as God is all powerful and is The Everything, that He felt love for Jesus that as a human, we would have no concept of. Huge, encompassing love, joy beyond the confines of our earthly understanding. And yet He gave His son for the lives of mere people, who are so unworthy, many of which couldn't give a damn, all of whom will disappoint and fall short of deserving such a gift.

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Stop and think about that. And take time to thank Him for what He's given us, the sacrifice that He made as a parent. My piddly human mind cannot conceive of the width and breadth and power of that gift. And yet there it is, free for the taking. All we have to do is receive.

Always remember to thank Him and remember that should nothing else ever seem good or right, you have been given the Greatest Gift of All.

Taxi Driver

Yesterday was my "mom as cabdriver" day. Will goes to speech, then get chicken nuggets (the boy would live off of them if I let him), then I run home, pick up Kendall's skating gear, then pick her up from school and get her to the rink. I run after Will for an hour in the rink (I never get to see Kendall skate), and when we finally leave, Will throws a fit because he is in love with the video games there. Then I get to go home and make dinner. Except yesterday I felt like crud as I had caught Will's cold. So Tim made TV dinner panini for him and the kids.

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I remember reading somewhere that if stay at home moms actually got paid for everything they do, their income would be around $150K. That sure would be nice! I know that many of you, like us, are going through a period of financial uncertainty, so it sure would be nice to have that SAHM salary!

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Tim has always known how to live on a budget. He's always been blue collar, never had the high paying job, and really can squeeze water from a rock. I, on the other hand, lived the high life when I was a physician. Ate at the expensive restaurant, bought clothing I would never wear, and couldn't budget to save my life. My income made me totally independent from everyone. It also made me feel like a bit of a big shot and may have swelled my head a bit. Because when the income went away and I suddenly wasn't the big money kahoona, I didn't like it one little bit.


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I believe that God has put us in this place in our lives to teach me that I am not independent from Him. That he provides all. That no matter how bad the money situation gets, he has provided for us. That I have to put pride aside and accept help from his people here in earth if I want to provide. That God IS the provision, and all things come through Him.


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It took me a LONG time to get there, but I finally believe that He will provide for us. I don't worry so much when a bill that we weren't expecting comes in the mail. I know that our family will have food and a place to live, and we'll even be able to afford little extras, like Will's chicken nuggets on Wednesdays (and mommy's mocha latte to go with it). It has calmed me considerably to believe this, to know that He is carrying us. We truly have an awesome God.

Haba Na Haba

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The leaves are starting to fall from the trees; yesterday, the two oldest were raking them into enormous piles. Will took his time jumping into the huge, crunchy piles, then decided to help by putting leaves into compost bags. His little hands couldn't pick up many leaves at a time, but little by little he filled a huge compost bag to the top with leaves.

Haba Na Haba. I learned this phrase at Collin's choir concert. Little by Little the rain fills the cup. Little by Little.

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We are a culture of instant gratification. Little by little isn't part of our mindset. When you think about it, though, the majority of our lives and the lives of those around us happen in just this way: Haba na haba, little by little.

We start out as babies and little by little, over a long time, turn into adults.

We learn little by little, from ABCs to Tolstoy.

Our days come at us little by little, moment by moment.

Little by little we heal from illness or hurts of the past.

We rebuild little by little, until our communities hit by disaster are strong again.

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I remember being a child going Trick or Treating with my Unicef collection box. Little by little, those boxes filled with pennies. We'd bring them back to school, where our pennies were counted, and those pennies turned suddenly into hundreds of dollars. All the schools sent their money to Unicef, and magically, that little box that I carried became part of hundreds of thousands of dollars. We were feeding and educating children around the globe, though I'm not sure I quite understood that at the time. Little by little.

What are you putting off because you think that your small part will make no difference? What is your haba na haba? Little by little, the water fills your cup.

Walls

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So Jerusalem's wall lay in waste, the gate had been burnt down, and a man named Nehemiah decided that he was going to rebuild that wall. Wall building is difficult, sweaty business, especially in the days before cherry pickers and dump trucks. Yet God blessed Nehemiah's work and it began. He sent him workers to help him. People mortgaged their vineyards to come up with the money. The wall was built in record time and was even protected from the people who decimated it in the first place (don't you go messin' wit' the hand of God!). Jerusalem was once again protected.


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This all got me thinking that during all of my therapy I have had walls crashing down about me. Acknowledging that, yes, I was abused, and yes, I am scarred by it, and yes, I have a mental illness and I need help has all crumbled the mortar of some of the strongest walls that I have: pride, Independence, deniability, and my favorite wall - the "If I just don't think about it, it will eventually go away" wall.

So now that these walls are down, I have to figure out what is going up in their place. What sort of halo does God want surrounding me? What will the purpose of my halo be? What person am I becoming? Who are the people who are going to take the journey with me?


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My life certainly has not followed the plan that I had laid out for it. I'm sure that there are many of you that can relate. The only plan I ever had led up to being a doctor and ended up with me being a sort of grizzled but pretty white haired woman still taking care of kids. Well, that plan went "kerplewie!" I have found artistic talents within me that I never knew existed and that thrill me and ground me. The other day I was talking to my mom and she said to me, "You know, I always saw you as more of an artistic type, but you were so hell-bent on being a doctor . . ." People all around me are giving me the permission to become this person that is emerging, this writer/photographer/indie artist, and it feels good (it'd feel a lot better if I could start taking amazing pictures with my new camera, but that will come). My husband gave me the go ahead to write; not blog write per say, but write - fiction, non-fiction, free lance, all that jazz. God is forming a path for me. One that I could have never saw coming, but a path nonetheless.


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Do you have walls that need to be rebuilt? Walls that need a good whacking down? Are you unsure of your direction or place in this world? Let God lead you to it.

My faith walk still has its ups and downs. I went to my old church today, but it didn't feel like the right place for me still. So I'm homeless, in a way. Prayer doesn't come naturally to me (yes, I know all you have to do is talk to God, but you have to remember, I'm conditioned to be independent and solve all of my problems myself). I see my husband bow his head in prayer in the middle of the day out of no where and it makes me feel like I'm not doing something right, because it sort of irritates me. But day by day I start to feel a bit more whole. A bit more like that girl that shone with the love of God a few years back. As the walls become what they need to be, that light shines a little brighter.


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One of Those Days

So my day started as One of Those Days. I should let you know that I have been hit with the doldrums in a big way. This morning, I woke up, promptly got peed on by Will (ah, the joys of motherhood), and decided it was time to lock myself in the bathroom with a magazine and a steamy hot bath.

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I got caught up in my magazine. It is the September Vogue - 20 gajillion pages of fashion - and before I knew it, the bathtub was overflowing. I looked at the floor and it didn't look all that wet. So I went back to reading about NYC's Fashion's Night Out.

About 10 minutes later, I am roused out of my fashion revelry by frantic knocking on the door by my husband. "I have to get in!!! Unlock the door! The basement it flooded and I have to figure out why!" SO I look at the floor again, and this time I see water all over the floor. Lots of it. And my husband it still hysterically telling me to let him in.

So in my calmest, most chastened voice, I answer, "Well, um, Tim, you see, the tub kind of overflowed, and I think that's why there's water in the basement."

"The tub overflowed and you did nothing about it?!"

"Tim," at this point, my irritation is beginning to show, "I didn't know it was that bad! If I had known it was that bad, don't you think I would have done something about it?"

"Well, all I know is that the basement is all wet and now you're telling me you overflowed the tub and you didn't even clean it up??"


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So I got out of the tub, feeling totally like a 5 year old who is being scolded by her dad, and grabbed towels and sopped up the (very wet) floor. And I opened the door and threw a towel at Tim because there was water leaking into our bedroom.

"Thanks for making me feel like a child!" I yelled, slammed the door, and got back into the tub. I'm sure Tim rolled his eyes. He rolls his eyes when he's frustrated.

I'm here to tell you that this could have been handled much better. And I'm not talking about how Tim handled it - I'm responsible for the words that come out of my mouth, not his. He was just trying to figure out why there was water filling up the basement.


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So, after I got out of the house and cooled down a bit, I went to the Bible. I needed to put some sort of positive spin on this whole experience, because, I gotta tell you, when I'm not doing well depression wise, I can turn into a pit viper. I don't like being a pit viper. I like it when people say "Oh, that Erin, she's just the nicest!" What I found had nothing to do with an overflowing bathtub, or even treating your husband with respect and treating your wife like Christ treats the church. But I love it.

Psalm 133
A song of ascents. Of David.
1 How good and pleasant it is
when brothers live together in unity!

2 It is like precious oil poured on the head,
running down on the beard,
running down on Aaron's beard,
down upon the collar of his robes.

3 It is as if the dew of Hermon
were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the LORD bestows his blessing,
even life forevermore.

David had his issues. We could start with a certain woman bathing on a roof, David getting a major jones, and sending her husband into the front lines of battle assuring his death. Yet David recognized that God's blessing is bestowed upon all of us, covering our heads, faces, and collars like anointing oil, giving us life forevermore. And through Christ, all of those rituals of the Old Testament that David had to go through to assure his atonement were washed away just by our belief and love for Him. That love for him then seeps out of us, like that pesky overflowing water, touching everyone we encounter. Our love for Christ gives us the opportunity to wash others clean.

"Awaken me from my sleep
And open up my weary eyes
Move me from my complacency
And bring my soul back to life

Won't You take this heart and mind
And help me to believe?

In the fire that ignites my bones
It's in the water that brings life to my soul
It's in the blood that washes me clean"

Shawn McDonald
Wash Me Clean


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I would be totally remiss if I didn't thank Christy for featuring my "Puff Balls" notecard on her blog Just Thinkin' in pictures. Her blog is chock full of inspiration and gorgeous photos and I'm honored to have been one of her chosen artists.

Cicada Song

Yesterday, we bombed the house for fleas. It's just one of those unexpected perks of being a pet owner in a state where the flea population is at an all-time high. We had to find somewhere to go for at least 5 hours (4 for the bombing, 1 for the airing out). The kids went to their grandparent's house and Tim had to run errands, I decided to accompany him.


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Did I mention that I had one of my all too frequent headaches? I really was in no shape to be running all around creation. Truth be told, I spent much of my day in the car, air conditioner running, wasting gas. But for as long as I could stand it (as the weather was stifling hot) I layed down with the windows open, looking at the power lines and listening to the cicadas sing to each other.


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I've mentioned that I have a love for cicadas. I love their high pitched buzz that permeates the air from July through September. That sound that makes me think of children jumping into swimming pools, people sitting on rockers on the porch, fanning themselves with whatever they can get their hands on, and that gives me permission to feel lazy from the heat.


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I love finding cicada shells on the trees, although I rarely find them. Here in Ohio, we have annual cicadas and 7 year cicadas. When that 7th year hits, it is Amazing the number of cicadas that emerge! You walk outside to find maybe a hundred on your car, and in wooded areas you can't walk without them hitting you mid flight. Cicada song gets Loud those years!


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I spent my time thinking about this insect that emerges from the ground every 7 years, just to mate, lay eggs, and die. What purpose could they have? I saw something on television that if you look at a tree ring, you can see that the trees received more nutrition during that 7th year as the dead cicadas and nymph shells fall to the forest floor and provide nutrients to the soil. And omnivores and carnivores, such as civets and waxwings may get the most calories and nutrition of their entire lives in year 7. Oh, and they let us know that summer truly is upon us with that sound. So a creature that seemingly has a meager life actually has a great impact on the world around it. Yet another example of the amazing web of life that God has created on this earth.


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Yes, I am fascinated with the cicada.

Tired

Go enter my Meredith LeVande cd giveaway here!

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I am tired. Worn out. The stresses of everyday life, all of the issues that I have shared with you in the last few days have left me feeling depleted. I think I need to rest.


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My friend Manda writes a beautiful blog called There is a Time. . . (For everything, and a season for every activity under heaven). She writes about the important things in our life that we need to make time for, and she writes about these things beautifully. She has spoken about the need for rest before. As have many of my other friends who remind me that I run on empty far too often. I have a sneaking suspicion that there are others who are reading this who know all too well what I am talking about.


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"Come to Me," Jesus said, "all that labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." Rest from the thoughts of insecurity, the wrongs in our lives, our burden of sin. The rest that only Jesus can provide. Soul rest.


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So now, I am going to Him, and I will ask for rest. Quieting of the mind, slowing of the heart, peace from within. Renewal and strength for the days to come and the challenges that will come with them.


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