You CAN Go Home Again

Pin It You know "they" say that you can't go home again. And perhaps there's some truth to that statement. But in my experience, I haven't found that to be totally the case.

When I first moved to Nashville, part of the reason was to attend a church that seemed to me to be dynamic and vibrant, passionate in their love for the Lord, and unswerving in their desire to follow Him. I'm going to call that church, Old Church, and it was pastored at the time by a man who is a remarkable teacher, and between the soul-satisfyingly rich music, and the inspiring solidly Biblically based teaching, I was in hog heaven. Pardon my mixed metaphor of the swine and the divine. Somehow, it doesn't seem quite kosher, does it? ; )

Anywhoo, another thing I owe to Old Church was the opportunity to meet the wonderful man who would become my best friend in the whole wide world and my partner for life - aslongaswebothshalllive. (And no, that's not his name, that's just a time frame.) I met the Big Bison through a small group that formed from that church, and so how can I EVER repay that debt? I cannot. I simply can't.

But time marches on, and life brings change, and my dear husband and I went through some great personal tragedies. In the course of four years, first my mother died, then the BB's father died, then we suffered a couple of miscarriages, and then the BB's mother died. All these losses were unexpected, and tragic. By the time my mother-in-law died quite suddenly, we found ourselves in great grief. We felt as though we were constantly waiting for the NEXT shoe to drop, and that it was likely that the whole closet full was coming down at any moment.

At the same time, Old Church was going through some changes of her own as a church body. The pastor we adored had stepped down as pastor. The worship seemed to us to be changing from simple and Spirit-led to a production number, where the worshipers were being encouraged to sing louder, clap harder, jump higher, and dance with all your might - and if you weren't - well, you weren't doing your job.

It's hard to say if that's really the way things were, or if that's just the way we, in our grief, were perceiving things. However, after week after week and month after month of feeling this way, on one particular Sunday, after repeated entreaties from the worship leader for the congregation to get with the program, the BB and I looked at each other, rolled both sets of our eyes heavenward, and walked out. And that was pretty much it for us with Old Church for 14 years. It's a large church, and no one ever even missed us.

So, we church shopped for about a year, and found a new church where several of our friends who were also Old Church refugees had settled, and it became home for the next 13 years. And it was good. We were well and truly loved there, and served in a lot of different areas, because that's what you do when it's a small church.

But when our dear son, the Man Cub, turned 13, the little church that had been a haven to us began making changes of their own, and one of their changes involved joining up with a youth group from another church, and this was a full hour away from our house. Gas prices were continuing to climb, our Sundays were being spent in the car commuting 45 minutes to and from church, and it was just time to seek a youth group for our son that would disciple him, but was perhaps a little bit closer to our home in the Boonies. Meanwhile, back at Old Church, our old friend, Rob, had been asked to direct the youth program. And our old friend Greg was leading a mission trip to Mexico for junior high kids. And then we heard that our beloved former pastor was coming back for a season to serve as interim pastor.

And so all our spiritual planets seemed to be aligning and settling directly over the top of the roof of Old Church. And, thus, we came home again. That was two years ago. And in that time, God has also answered my prayers for friendship/sisterhood/a feeling of belonging by causing me to repeatedly run into a warm loving woman by the name of Diane at Costco. Week after week after week. And from those meetings, and the fact that the BB and I elected to sit in the "Beloved Former pastor section" where, "coincidentally" Diane also makes her Sunday morning home, I have been plugged in to the neatest group of women. And I'm enjoying these Friday mornings with Beth Moore and these lovely Old Church sisters more than I can ever say.

So, today, Beth has asked us to rewrite Psalm 122, the third of the psalms of ascent. Here's the original, from the NIV:

I rejoiced with those who said to me,
"Let us go to the house of the LORD."

Our feet are standing
in your gates, O Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is built like a city
that is closely compacted together.
That is where the tribes go up,
the tribes of the LORD,
to praise the name of the LORD
according to the statute given to Israel.
There the thrones for judgment stand,
the thrones of the house of David.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
"May those who love you be secure.
May there be peace within your walls
and security within your citadels."
For the sake of my brothers and friends,
I will say, "Peace be within you."
For the sake of the house of the LORD our God,
I will seek your prosperity.


To personalize this psalm, (Beth is MAKING her students do this - I do not think I can improve upon God's Word! I am just seeking to apply scripture in a very personal way to my own life, to see what God might be saying to me.) I chose to think of the house of the Lord as being my Old Church, one of the driving forces in drawing me to Nashville.

So here's the Booniefied (not bona fide) version of Psalm 122:

I rejoiced when my dear husband said to me.
"Let's go back to our old church."
Our tooshies are once again tucked into your pews, O Old Church.

Old Church is built like an architectural mish-mash -
the old and the new melded together.
That is where the people go up
the people of the LORD
to praise the Name of the LORD
according to the urgings given in Scripture.
There the table of the LORD is set,
the table where He communes with His people.

Pray for the peace of Old Church
May those who love you be secure.
May there be peace within your walls
as we carry Your love outside the walls.
For the sake of my brothers and sisters and friends,
I will say, "Peace be within you"
For the sake of the house of the Lord our God
I will seek to be a blessing to you.


You know, I'm so thankful, that occasionally in life, you CAN go home again.

On The Road Again

Pin It Willie Nelson's catchy little ditty is on my mind this morning, as I've been meditating on Psalm 121.

All of life's a journey, isn't it? And this Beth Moore study has reminded me that for the Christian, all of life's a pilgrimage. We're on the road to the heavenly Jerusalem, every bit as much as the pilgrims who sang the Psalms of Ascent were on the road to the real life earthly Jerusalem.

Today's psalm caused me to stop and consider what it must have been like for them to do their traveling. No interstates. No automobiles, or planes or trains. No air conditioned rest stop buildings, either.

Just you and your sandals, and the dust, and the open air, and the vast landscape before you. And sleeping out under the stars. No protection from the elements. Or from the wild creatures that might be roaming at night. Or from bandits, who might be lying in wait to take any valuables you might be carrying. No emergency services or ambulance if you fall and get banged up on your trip, either. On foot, the hills had to look insurmountable. Really, it had to be quite a daunting thing, to contemplate making such a pilgrimage.

We possess so many modern conveniences that make traveling, for us, so much easier. But if all of life is a journey, don't we, too, have some daunting obstacles facing us on our pilgrimage?

As I contemplate helping my kids navigate adolescence, I can feel fear climbing up my throat. I have watched my friends struggling up their own mountains with their own kids, and I have watched some friends walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and I tell you, this pilgrimage is not for the faint of heart.

And so, in light of all of these burdens that my heart is carrying, for people I love so very much, I have penned my own version of Psalm 121.

Here's the original version, from the NIV:

I lift up my eyes to the hills -
where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip -
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you -
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm,
he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.



Perfection! Needs no refinement!

Nevertheless, Beth Moore made me do it. My assignment was to personalize it, and rewrite it for myself. So here's my version, such as it is:



I raise my eyes toward the obstacles and challenges that lie ahead,
and I wonder -
where will my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He won't allow me to fall off the path
he has set for me.

My Protector won't accidentally doze off.
The One who protects His people
doesn't need a nap, or a good night's sleep.

The One with Whom I am in covenant protects me.
My Covenant Maker is a shelter right beside me.
My soul won't be harmed by day or by night.

My Keeper will protect me from all harm -
He will protect my very life.

Yahweh will protect me on my journey
as I start out, and as I end it,
both now and forevermore.


And if I can trust him with my life, I must assume that He is every bit as much the Protector and Keeper of my children's souls as well. I am most certainly unequipped to handle that task. But He is the Trustworthy One. And He will be faithful to complete the good work He began in them.

I'm banking on it.

A Mom's Psalm 120

Pin It At present, I am beginning as a member of a wonderful Bible study with some dear ladies from my church. It's a Beth Moore study of the Psalms of Ascent (Psalms 120 - 135) and the study itself is entitled "Stepping Up: a Journey through the Psalms of Ascent".

Today I read and meditated on Psalm 120.

Here's the text:

"I call on the LORD in my distress,
and he answers me.
Save me, O LORD, from lying lips
and from deceitful tongues."

What will he do to you,
and what more besides, O deceitful tongue?
He will punish you with a warrior's sharp arrows,
with burning coals of the broom tree.

Woe to me that I dwell in Meshech,
that I live among the tents of Kedar!
Too long have I lived
among those who hate peace.
I am a man of peace;
but when I speak, they are for war.

Beth characterizes this psalm as a distress call. The psalmist is obviously having some "issues" with the people with whom he lives. (Those naughty, naughty people from Meshech and Kedar.) And what the psalmist does, where he totally gets it right, is that in his distress, he pours out his complaint before the Lord. Talk about taking your problem to the right source! He has his "Woe is me" moment in the throne room of the King. He's not calling up his friends and "venting" - although there may be a time and a place for that, too. He's going straight to the top! To the One who is eternally interested in being as close to us as the air we breathe. To the One who cares so much for us, He'd gladly die for us. (And, by the way, He did just that.)

So, then, after we've worked our way through the psalm, Beth asks study members to write their own parallel version of that particular psalm.

Now, I've got to tell you first that I love my children more than life. More than life. Each day they delight my heart. They crack me up with their sense of humor. They make me proud of the things they are learning and the insights they are having. I'm not bragging when I say that I get told all the time what great kids I have (because it ain't bragging if it's true). And that has nothing to do with me and my mothering ability: but it does have everything to do with the totally undeserved grace and mercy of God.

NEVERTHELESS: some days, it just ain't all hearts and flowers around here. Sometimes, they have gotten on my last NERVE, and I do mean my very. last. nerve. And some moments, I am longing for Calgon to take me AWAY from these little hooligans.

Can I get an "Amen"? Can somebody say, "Preach"?

So, for those moments, here's the cry of my heart, directed toward the One who can help. A beleaguered Mom's version of Psalm 120:

In my frustration and exasperation
I called to my faithful Covenant Keeper
and He answered me.

LORD - Faithful One - deliver me from whining lips
and rebellious retorts.

What will He give you, rebellious whiners?
Lost jobs and poverty will be your reward.

What a pain, that I have dealt with this at school time
and dealt with this at chore time!

I am living in the midst of sibling rivalry
and those who long for anarchy.

I am for peace, but they can pick a fight
over a piece of dirt.




A little "Woe is me" can be good for the soul. ;)

A Love Song for my Friends at the Sonlight Forums

Pin It
Since I use a homeschooling curriculum that I purchased from a company called "Sonlight Curriculum", I also began reading their online forums when I first started schooling my son at home ten years ago. Sonlight is a terrific company, by the way, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who might be considering homeschooling their own children.

What I discovered by frequenting Sonlight's online forums was that they have a very active, engaging group of people who have developed a warm, supportive community. Because of being a member of those forums, I have developed real friendships with people from all over the globe who share many of my beliefs and values. But it is also a diverse enough group, that the folks I meet there have challenged me in many ways, and have helped me to keep growing, too.

A special friend from my church sent me a beautiful tribute that a lady had written to her lady friends, and it moved me so much that it inspired me to write my own tribute to the friends I have made on the Sonlight Forums. So, without further ado, here is my tribute to those fine folks.



Together:

We have spent untold hours on the computer talking with each other. You have walked with me, and I have walked with you through some amazing things.

We've watched sons and daughters make good choices, that swelled our hearts with joy and pride.
We've watched sons and daughters make choices that have broken our hearts.

With hearts full of love for our spouse, we've sung the praises of our beloved. With broken hearts, we've shared about a mate's unfaithfulness.

We've watched those we love battle addictions of all kinds. Many of us have stories from the other side, victorious stories of overcoming addictions.

Some of us have lost a mate to divorce, or death. Some are still searching for that special someone.

We've announced pregnancies with joy. Some of us have then had to return to report the tragedy of the loss. We've announced pregnancies in shocked amazement, and wondered how we would ever make this work.

We've confessed abortions, and found no condemnation, and prayers for healing.

We've announced adoption plans, and adoption failures, and gone to the far ends of the earth to bring that little one home. Some transitions have been smooth, some difficult.

In the same way, we've announced birth stories that were without complication, and birth stories that were dramatic. We've prayed babies into the world, and oohed and aahed like a bunch of adoring aunties should. We've thrown baby showers and birthday parties.

Premature babies have lived and thrived. Others have struggled to survive. All have been covered in prayer.

We've struggled with everyday child rearing issues, and children with very special needs. And nearly always found help from someone else a bit further down the road, who has already been there and done that.

We've diagnosed, advised, agonized, sympathized and empathized with each other. But most of all, we've prayed.

We've battled cancer, heart disease, chronic pain, influenza, colds and stomach viruses by the score. We've rejoiced over healings and grieved over losses.

We've lost grandparents, and parents, and children, and bawled our eyes out for each other.

We've lost untold pounds of weight (but rarely grieved those losses) and gained a few pounds back as well.

We've exercised, done yoga, jogged, T-Tapped, eaten raw, low-carbed and Medifasted it. We've battled and confessed eating disorders, and some have triumphed over the same. We've learned about grinding our own grain, and homemade whole wheat bread. We've discovered wheat allergies and gone gluten free.

We've had our breasts augmented. We've had our breasts reduced. We've had our breasts removed. We've discussed the size of our breasts, (or the lack thereof) and the devastating effects of gravity, time and nursing babies on our breasts.

We've worn Granny Panties of Righteousness, the Debil's Underwear, and gone commando.

We've talked about cloth pads, divas, and feminine hygiene products till it was time for the next cycle. We've talked about Aunt Flo, hot flashes, and menopause, and everything that lies between.

We've shared wedding pictures, baby pictures and grandbaby pictures and pictures of our pets, vacations and homes.

We've prayed each other through moving, home buying, house selling. Some of us have moved into our first home, or moved around the corner, or to a brand new state. Some of us have even moved around the world to share our love of Dad with others.

We've prayed for husbands and wives who've lost their jobs. We've begged God for provision to meet desperate financial needs.

We've challenged each other's ideas, and asked each other hard questions. We've stuck our feet in our mouths and asked for forgiveness. We've chosen to love and forgive each other, even when our ideas didn't exactly match.

We've swapped recipes, and discussed food cravings. We've struggled over chores and how and when to assign them. We've touted homemade laundry detergent, and warned each other of the latest food recalls.

We've given fashion, hair and makeup advice. We've announced glorious new hairstyles and despaired over hair disasters.

We've punned, blogged, a few of us have counted our posts, and some of us have even written novels.

We've mailed a rubber chicken around the United States, and a Bimbo shirt around the world.

We've learned to knit, and knitted amazing hats and sweaters and mittens. We've quilted and sewed and spun wool and displayed our artistic giftings in jewelry design and purses made from feed sacks. We've played concerts and triumphed on the stage, We've sung, and danced, and relished our moments in the spotlight. We've thanked the Lord we never have to get up in front of people and say anything, because the thought petrifies us.

We've done Big Fat Meet-ups from sea to shining sea, and Little Skinny Meet-ups around the globe.



We've done field trips together. We've gone camping together. And quite a few of us have become no longer emaginary to each other, but real life friends,



We've exhorted, quoted scripture to edify each other and encouraged each other. We've held up the arms of a sister or brother who was struggling. We've fasted and prayed for each other like nobody's business.

We know enough about each other to make a pretty good living from extortion.

Oh, yes, and along the way, we've even advised each other in regard to something called homeschooling.

Ladies (and gents), you really are a most amazing community.

Thank you for letting me be a part of it.

The Joy of the Lord

Pin It In the eighth chapter of the book of Nehemiah, following the completion of rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem, all the people of Israel (men, women and children who are old enough to understand) assemble in Jerusalem in the square before the Water Gate. Ezra the scribe brings out the Book of the Law of Moses, and standing on a high wooden platform, he reads to the people from daybreak till noon, while all the people stand and listen attentively.

Now, I don't know about you, but that sounds like a long time to stand up. A very long morning, indeed.

Then, Scripture tells us, the Levites, who were also there, explained God's Word to the people so that they could understand it. Because, you know, they didn't have family Bibles sitting around on their coffee tables. They didn't have Bible book stores where they could go and purchase their own copies. So, they listened attentively. And apparently, what this produced in them was weeping.

So much so that Nehemiah the governor, Ezra the priest and scribe and the Leviites had to tell them to knock it off and settle down.

Verse 9 says, "This day is sacred to the Lord your God. Do not mourn or weep."

That must have been quite a sound, all those people weeping and wailing.

And then in verse 10:

"Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength."

Isn't that a beautiful phrase, "the joy of the Lord is your strength"?

I've always loved the way that sounds.

And then Twila Paris wrote that song about it that we sang at my church for years. It's a happy little ditty, and I still really like it.

But as I've meditated on that phrase, "the joy of the Lord is your strength", I think there might be an additional meaning to it other than, "I belong to God, He belongs to me, and that makes me happy, so I'm happy in Him."

Now that's a good meaning, and there's certainly nothing wrong with that.

But there could be more as well.

If you think about the verse contextually, what's been going on in these people's lives? Many of them have returned from exile to live in Jerusalem, after their parents and grandparents were carted off to Babylon. They have been working hard to rebuild the walls of the city of Jerusalem, despite much opposition in the form of threats and malicious, scoffing words from their adversaries. They have assembled to reaffirm their faith in God and to obediently celebrate one of God's sacred feasts called for in the Book of the Law of Moses.

Wouldn't hearts set on obeying Him bring joy to the Father's heart?

So, yes, there IS joy in knowing that we belong to Him and that is joy in the Lord.

But whose joy is being mentioned here? Is it the joy of the Israelites? Or is it the joy of the Lord? Might this verse be referring to the joy we give our Father when we do what He calls us to do? And when He is pleased with our obedience, and we know we're doing what Paul calls in Ephesians 2:10 the "good works which God prepared in advance for us to do", don't we find His strength buoying us up, and giving us what we need to go on?

Just a thought for those of us who are struggling to keep going right now. Maybe you've been called to do something that is just about to wear you out.

Stop for a moment, and feel His pleasure.

I can beat myself up every which way better than anyone else I know.

Yes, when I hear God's Word, and I look at the myriad ways in which I don't measure up, it makes me want to weep, too. Sometimes, I do. And there's a place for godly sorrow that leads to repentance.

But there's also a time to just celebrate the fact that I AM His, and He IS mine, and there ARE areas where by His grace, and empowered by His Spirit, I've been obedient. And let His joy in me, His child, and His pleasure in me fill me up and give me the strength I need to keep going.

So, that's my prayer for you and me today. May we feel His joy, His pleasure in us, and find that strength that we need to keep on keeping on.

Thank You, Father for Your grace, and Your love, and Your joy, and Your strength.

Trust in WHOM???

Pin It Wow.

I'm just so overwhelmed by all the good stuff in Proverbs 3 that it's really hard to know where to begin.

A verse or two at a time would be sufficient.

I could start with Proverbs 3:5-6.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.

That would be a good place to start, because I feel like that was where the Big Bison and I started our marriage. When we first got married, I started attending Bible Study Fellowship. I think that was in 1990. I really wanted a study Bible, so I could enjoy the cheater's notes at the bottom of the page. (Which BSF really doesn't want you to use. But I wanted them anyway!)

So, for Christmas of 1991, my dear husband bought me a plum colored leather bound big honkin' NIV Study Bible, large enough to club down any sinner given an impassioned enough swing.. And in the front of it, on the "Presented to" page, the BB penned the reference, "Proverbs 3: 5 - 6".

So, I claimed it as a theme verse to our marriage. And I'm pretty sure that I can truthfully say that we have endeavored to keep it the theme of our marriage. Decisions we make together are filtered by prayer, and based on honoring God, and obeying what He says in His Word. I say this not to brag on us, but to give Him the glory for anything good that has come out of our union.

We may not be very smart, but we're just smart enough to know that we're not very smart, and leaning on our own understanding without consulting Him leads to bad decisions that sometimes have very long consequences.

On an individual level, my natural tendency IS to lean on my own understanding. I made pretty good grades in school, and have a fair amount of confidence in the abilities with which God has gifted me. So, it really IS a bending of my will to remind myself that I need to do a bending of my knee. On whatever the issue, at whatever point in the day.

Once, several years ago, A BSF group that I was a discussion leader for gave me a gift of a necklace. This necklace was a piece of "Scripture Jewelry" that a lady was making in Franklin, TN. The girl who purchased it for the group and presented it to me was a girl who was very tuned in to hearing the voice of the Holy Spirit. As she gave it to me, she told me she prayed before she chose a verse for me. My necklace contained the Hebrew word for "Blessed", and the scripture verse it represented was Psalm 84:5, which says:

"Blessed are those whose strength is in the Lord."

She said, "I know you, Susan, and the Lord impressed on me that you are very prone to lean on your OWN strength. But He wants you to lean on Him."

Her words resonated with me. They came to me with deep conviction and with power.

One more time, the Lord was saying to me on a very personal level: "Trust ME with all your heart. Lean NOT on your own understanding."

I still wear that necklace nearly every day, wherever I go, as a reminder to myself. I "bind it around my neck".

So, anyway, that's what I wanted to share with you today. And perhaps these words aren't just for me alone. Perhaps the Lord's Spirit might be whispering to you, too, right now.

I have to ask the Lord for the grace to help me remember that HE is my wisdom. And HE is my strength. And I NEED Him. Because on my own, I am perfectly capable of screwing up any good thing that comes my way.

May we all be blessed with the understanding of our deep, deep need for Him.

The Bunnies, Mr. Billy, and Mr. Billy's Beagles

Pin It or:

Breaking Bread with Mr. Billy, Mr. Billy's Beagles, and the Bunnies

I'm going to make a stab at retelling a story that is the stuff of legends.

Once again, I did not personally witness the event that I am about to recount, but I first heard the story from one of the guys it happened to, and that's my dear husband, the Big Bison. Then, I heard it retold last night by one of the other guys it happened to, the Big Bison's Buddy, Steve. And except for a small delectable embellishment or two, the story Steve told was remarkably similar to the story that the BB told me when he came home, so I guess it's pretty close to true.

Our story begins when Steve, who is almost as passionate about hunting as he is about his love for his Lord and his wife, called up the BB to see if he wanted to go hunting. Steve has shared his passion for hunting with the BB, and now, the BB loves to hunt almost as much as Steve does, so it took absolutely nothing more than a "Ya wanna go hunting?" for the BB to say, "Where are we going?"

Well, this time it was rabbit hunting. Yes, they were off into the wilds to shoot Little Bunny Foo Foo. Now if you are one of those people who despise hunting and hunters, hang in there. This story might even have something in it for you. Because this particular little expedition would lead our intrepid band into...well...just read on.

Steve's plan for this day involved hunting rabbits with a guide who owned trained hunting dogs. And the hunting dogs were owned by a feller known as Mr. Billy. So, when Mr. Billy pulled up his truck and "released the hounds", as it were, 15 slavering, slobbering, stinking beagles poured from the back of his truck. My dear husband had envisioned a guy with a trained Labrador or two, but no, Mr. Billy had beagles. In a big way. Steve asked Mr. Billy, "Why do you have so MANY beagles, Mr. Billy?" and Mr. Billy, in tones deeply Southern replied, "You know, when you go to church, and you hear a trio sing, that's nice, but when you got the whole choir to sing...well, that's just somethin' special..."

Accompanying my dear husband and Steve that day were a couple of other guys: a friend named Brody, and Brody's father. But before these boys were even allowed to begin the hunt, Mr. Billy whipped out a legal document for each of them to sign. The document stated that if one of Mr. Billy's Beagles were accidentally shot during the course of the hunt, the shooter would be responsible for reimbursing Mr. Billy to the tune of $2000.00 per slobbering beagle. So, that day, when Mr. Billy let down the gate of his pickup truck, that was thirty thousand dollars worth of beagle flesh that bounded off the back of the truck. The second Mr. Billy did that, all thirty thousand dollars worth of dogs began peeing and pooping because they'd been kenneled up for a while and were glad to have the opportunity to take care their bodily functions.

The dogs hadn't been out of the truck more than a minute when one of them caught the scent of a rabbit, and the whole choir commenced to singing, and the hunt was on. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that they had a successful morning's hunt.

Included in the price of the hunt for which they had hired Mr. Billy and his Beagles, was a picnic lunch, so, when lunch time came around, they all went back to the truck, eager for a little sustenance. I mentioned to you that Brody and his father were on the hunt with them, and sadly, Brody's Dad had contracted a virus the day before the hunt. He had paid for the hunt, and was determined to go, but by the time lunch rolled around, his guts were pretty well rolling around as well, so he excused himself to go off into the woods to be ill. Meanwhile, Mr. Billy stepped off into the woods to the other side of the truck to clean the rabbits who had been taken in the morning's hunt. Steve, Brody, and the Big Bison expectantly lifted the lid of the beat up Colman ice chest that contained the lunch that was to have been provided for them. What delicacies awaited our boys on this $400 hunt? A loaf of (ironically enough) Bunny bread, which you find here in the South (it's just plain old white bread); a package of baloney (in Mr. Billy's defense, the baloney was sliced nice and thick), a jar of mayonnaise and a jar of mustard, a bunch of single serving size bags of chips, and a few cans of Coke. Now remember, they were eating on the back of the truck in the middle of the area where the beagles, all 15 of them, had earlier relieved themselves, and so the dogs by now had commenced to rolling in the earlier mess. Brody's Dad is hurling his guts out to the left, Mr. Billy is gutting rabbits with great abandon to the right, and our intrepid hunters are attempting to eat unappetizing baloney sandwiches in the midst of the blood and the guts and the stench.

Brody looked over at Steve and the BB and raised his can of Coke in a toast,
"You know boys, it just doesn't get any better than this..."

Dear Lord God.

Please say that it does...

Rebuilding the Walls: Opposition

Pin It Back in the 5th century, Augustine asked, "Why does truth inspire such hatred?"

Opposition is a real thing, and don't think it ain't.

When Nehemiah organized the Israelites to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem in chapters 3 and 4 of the book of Nehemiah, they faced real opposition from their enemies. This opposition included verbal opposition, scoffing and even threats of physical violence.

If you read yesterday's post, you won't be surprised to learn how Nehemiah met this opposition. Once again, he poured out his heart in prayer. I love some of the Old Testament prayers. Let me tell you, they don't mince words. No nicey-nicey stuff for them. These prayers are more of the "Go Get 'Em, God!!!" variety. Nehemiah and the Israelites prayed:

"Hear us, O our God, for we are despised. Turn their insults back on their own heads. Give them over as plunder in a land of captivity. Do not cover up their guilt or blot out their sins from your sight, for they have thrown insults in the face of the builders."

Remember: all this pre-dates Jesus' teaching to pray for your enemies. The Israelites knew they were on a mission, to do a work that God had prepared in advance for them to do, so they left it to Him to deal with their enemies. They knew very well what it meant to be "given over as plunder in a land of captivity". And they wanted this problem of opposition taken care of, so that they could keep going with the task that had been set before them.

I know that some people don't like the phrase "under attack". And it's probably true that some Christians DO bandy that phrase around too blithely. Jesus promised us trouble. "In this world you WILL HAVE trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

We may not have Sanballat and Tobiah the Ammonite running around making trouble for us, but who is the enemy of our souls? And, kids, he still likes to make trouble for the people of God, the ones who are doing the work God has called them to do.

I have two friends, on opposite sides of the continent, each of whom has taken a difficult stand for truth. They have each said, "Yes" to a work that they knew God was calling them to do, a work that could save our sons and daughters. And in my opinion, they have each come under what I truly believe is a spiritual attack.

Should we be surprised when that attack comes? Probably not. Of course, I generally am. Because, here's how my mind works: I think I've done something nice for God, so, shouldn't He be blessing me, and taking care of His little Shnookums?

Well, God DOES care for me, even when I'm going through the fire, but His thoughts are not my thoughts, and His ways are not my ways, and sometimes He's working on stuff about which I have no clue, and dad blast it, sometimes he doesn't call off the opposition as quickly as I might like.

So, Nehemiah. You got any more lessons for me and my buddies who are in the fire right now?

In Chapter 4, verses 8 and 9, here's what God's Word says:

"They all plotted together to come and fight against Jerusalem and stir up trouble against it. Be we prayed to our God and posted a guard day and night to meet this threat."

I just love that. We prayed, AND posted a guard.

Yes, they believed God would hear and answer their prayer. But they weren't going to be stupid about it either.

Later in the chapter it says, "They did their work with one hand and held a weapon in the other."

And two more phrases from the chapter for your consideration, the first in verse 14: "Don't be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes."

And later on in verse 20, "Wherever you hear the sound of the trumpet, join us there. Our God will fight for us!"

So here is my word of encouragement (I hope) to my struggling friends, to my friends who are under attack right now. You have done what He has called you to do. But opposition is just a part of the whole shootin' match. Do not despair. Do not give up. The Lord loves you, has not forgotten you, and He is GREAT and AWESOME! He will fight for you!!!

And if, at present, you yourself do not feel under attack, won't you come alongside the ones you know who are, and stand guard for them, and hand them their tools as they need them?

Lessons from a Downcast Guy

Pin It This week, the Lord has been using scripture from Nehemiah to feed my spirit. I have been using our church's scripture reading plan for my quiet time, since I myself am not attending Bible Study Fellowship, (like the Big Bison and the kids are).

Nehemiah was the cup bearer to the King of Persia, in exile from Israel. For a man in exile, in service, he had risen to a position of prominence in service. Not just everyone had firsthand access to the king - whether they be citizen or alien. But Nehemiah did. So, Nehemiah gets word from "home": "home", being Israel. And the word he got was not good. It was, in fact, devastating to him. So much so that scripture says the news he got caused him to mourn, fast and pray for some days.

Now, I don't know about you, but it's got to be some pretty ferocious kind of news that would cause me to mourn, fast and pray for days. How about for "day"? When I've fasted for a day, I'm feeling pretty righteous. So, we know that this news went to the core of who Nehemiah was.

What was this news? Well, it seems that a Jewish brother had come back from Israel with a report about how the home team was doing. The report was that the Israelites at "home" were in great trouble and disgrace.

Have you ever been there? Disgrace? Great trouble? It's a shameful place to be.

And it grieved Nehemiah to the core. He loved his brothers, and he loved his God, and he could not bear for the Name of his God to be in question because of the trouble of his brothers.

Have you ever seen a fellow brother struggle, and been so grieved for him that you would fast and pray and go to the Lord on his behalf? Well, apparently, that's what rose up inside of our friend, Nehemiah. And what was the outcome of him urgently, passionately seeking God about what he should do?

God birthed inside of him a vision. A glowing ember of hope, that the power of God soon fanned into flame. It didn't come as a firestorm. It started as Nehemiah poured out his grief, shame and frustration to God in secret. He confessed his own sin, and the sin of his fellow Israelites. He asked for favor in the eyes of his employer.

And four months passed.

That little ember of hope warmed and began to generate heat as a crazy opportunity presented itself to Nehemiah.

Chapter two of Nehemiah's book tells us that the king asked Nehemiah what was wrong. Now, kings don't usually ask servants about their health and really want to hear an answer. But Nehemiah had gained such favor by his faithful service to this king (and, oh, yeah, there was that little prayer he had prayed 4 months earlier) that, apparently, this king genuinely wanted to know why his servant was downcast.

A spiritually unprepared man might have mumbled a quick "Oh, it's nothing, Your Highness" to avoid displeasing his royal boss. But Nehemiah was not unprepared. His spirit had been in communion with the one, true, living God, and so when this crazy opportunity presented itself, the Word tells us he shot up an arrow prayer and gave his answer to the king. He laid it out there on the table. He told the king what had made him sad, what he wanted to do, and exactly what he needed as resources to accomplish what he wanted to do. An incredibly gutsy thing for a servant to do to his master! But Nehemiah was Spirit led, and Spirit powered.

Do not underestimate the power of repentance, prayer and yes, even fasting.

I have seen it completely and radically change lives, in the here and now. (Not just in some citadel in Persia.)

Is your spirit downcast?

Pour it out before the Lord. Sometimes the answer takes 4 months. Or four years. But do not underestimate what God will do when someone pours out their heart before Him.

Deacon D. Dawg

Pin It

You know, really, the better title for this post might be "What Was I THINKIN"???"

Actually, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking that they were all so CUTE!!!



All 11 of those little yellow Labrador puppies!!! Just lined up, standing up, with their front paws resting on top of the chicken wire fence surrounding their pen, waiting for us as we drove up, tails wagging so hard they were creating a breeze. Oh, my GOSH, they were so cute!!!

We lost our heads, in a moment of madness.

We had lost Memphis a year and a half earlier. That would be St. Memphis, the Good, as she is now known.

Memphis was the dog my dear husband bought me when we bought our first house, and had no children. A black Labrador-lookalike mutt, she was actually half German Pointer, half Golden Retrrever. With Memphis, it was love at first sight, too, but rightfully so. She was the smartest, and the best dog I have ever known. She spoke English, lived to please me, and chased and caught Frisbees like a machine. She was the Best. Dog. Ever.

Simply ever.

When she died, I could hardly bear to go on without her.

But, my daughter had reached the age of 3, and the piles of unlicked up crumbs underneath the high chair reminded us on a daily basis that we had a huge void in our lives.

Why????Tell me WHY didn't we buy a dust-buster???? Or a wet mop? Or something other than the "solution" we went for.

So that's how Deacon D. Dawg came to live at our house.



I love him, but honestly.

We named him Deacon because I was seeking something unique, and I came across the name "deacon" in the Bible. And "Deacon" means "Servant". And I thought, "Oh. He'll be a servant to our family."

Well, call me a cockeyed optimist. Because the only thing Deacon serves is himself.




He's a plastivore, for gosh sakes. Lived the first three years of his life off all the children's toys that he ate. So, besides as much kibble as he can snarf down his goozle, let me share with you some of the OTHER things my Bad Boy has consumed.


Things My White Chocolate Labrador Has Ingested:

Whatever was "grazing material" on the top of the garbage can
A rainbow of crayons
Multiple neon colors/types of Play-Doh
Myriad white socks worn by my children
A 5 year old visiting guest's "camo" sock
Many "Littlest Pets" (miniature plastic animals belonging to my dear daughter)
Multiple Little Green Army Men
My dear husband's leather glove
An orange stretchy plastic spider web with suction caps
Lots of hair scrunchies
Used feminine hygiene products
Ny sister's knee-high hosiery


In his defense, he retrieves the paper every Saturday and Sunday (we have a weekend subscription - it's not that he's choosy). And last summer, when my dear husband was outside, barefoot, preparing to grill steaks, Deacon began to bark and bark and bark at the grill. The Big Bison finally thought he'd take a little look see under the grill since Deakie seemed to be aiming his fury in that direction, and low and behold a copperhead, coiled and ready for action was underneath, not 6 inches away from where The Big Bison's nakey tootsies had been moments earlier. This earned DeakieBoy favored dog status, and so we have allowed him to live.



But HONESTLY. Apart from the snake and the paper retrieval, what WERE we thinking???,

Beware the Grim Reeker

Pin It
We've got a lot of good stories in our family made up by my daughter (she of George, the Rabid Chicken fame.) And one relates to the Grim Reaper. One fall, probably near Halloween, she came across the image of the Grim Reaper. A ghastly, grim image he is. She was about 6 at the time. And she called him the Grim Reeker. And really, haven't you visited a bathroom out of which a Grim Reeker has recently stepped? (But I digress.)

Anyway, we were driving to a University of Georgia football game from Nashville, and were stuck in traffic on some back roads near Atlanta. It was a Friday night in October, during rush hour, and honestly, I am mystified how anyone within a 50 mile radius of Atlanta ever goes anywhere. But, again, I digress. Night had fallen, and my dear daughter was looking out the window at a bus stop bench and claimed to have seen the Grim Reeker sitting there. She told us he was holding a sign that said, "You've got a life, and I don't." (But I'm pretty sure he was looking for one, if you know what I mean.)

Anyway, what does the Grim Reeker (or the Grim Reaper) have to do with the REAL subject of today's post? Well, not much, except I have been reading Proverbs 2 this morning, which to me has everything to do with the biblical principle of reaping and sowing. And the picture of a scythe came to my mind. Which led to the Grim Reeker.

But let's get back to that principle of reaping and sowing. If you plant okra, you're not going to get eggplant. (Which will come as a great relief to my pal, Bethany, the world's foremost eggplant detester.)You will find the principle of reaping and sowing all throughout the Bible, from the Old Testament to the New, and Solomon is trying to spell it out for his "son", and to all the rest of us.

"My son, if you accept my words
and store up my commands within you"

In Chapter 1 of the book of Proverbs, you remember he told us that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge. In Chapter 2, he tells his son (and us) how to get it. He tells us to accept his words and store up his commands. Like in a bank vault. Or in a pantry. Storing up treasure. Storing up good things. Day after day after day. Faithfully making deposits of good stuff.

"turning your ear to wisdom
and applying your heart to understanding,
and if you call out for insight,
and cry aloud for understanding
and if you look for it as for silver
and search for it as for hidden treasure
then you will understand the fear of the Lord
and find the knowledge of God."

These are active verbs. They require action on our part. What are we to do again?

turn your ear
apply your heart
call out
cry aloud
look for it
search for it

Do you hear the action being called for?

You and I will reap what we sow.

Am I sowing? Are you sowing?

How's that going?

And by the way, you and I ARE sowing, whether we realize it or not. So, maybe a better question would be, "What am I sowing?"

Faithfully sow! Do not give up! Paul tells us in Galatians 6:9:

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

If I've given up sowing the good stuff for a while, then I need to get back on my J.O.B.! After all, what do I want to reap???

Solomon says if we will do these things:

"then you will understand the fear of the Lord
and find the knowledge of God."

And really, even more than the hokey pokey, that's what it's all about.

What Is This Big Bison of Which You Speak?

Pin It

Or "of whom". Actually, it should be "Who is this Big Bison of whom you speak?"

How did my adorable husband come to be known as the Big Bison?

Well it started many moons ago, at Pam's Truck Stop in Lebanon, TN, on the way to the VFW. Think I'm joking? Oh, no, my friends. You can't make up stuff like this.

Before we were married, my dear husband played in a bar band, that had a regular gig at the Veterans of Foreign Wars post in Lebanon, TN. It was actually a really good band, because we lived in Nashville, where good musicians are a dime a dozen. Anyway, on the way to the VFW,the only building in Lebanon, TN with a tank parked out front, you passed Pam's Truck Stop, and instead of having a tank parked out front, Pam had a bison. It was a big bison. A really big bison. This cracked up my dear husband (who was only my dear boyfriend at the time) and the other members of his uber cool band. They were so cool, they all wore mullets. My friends, (spoken in my very best John McCain/old person's voice) it was the early 80's. Face it, if you were alive then, we ALL wore mullets. Well, at least those of us who were uber cool did. So the uber cool guys loved to joke about the Really Big Bison at Pam's Truck Stop in Smyrna.



(This is not an actual picture of the Bison at Pam's Truck Stop, merely a visual aid I found on the internet that will give you some idea of how Really Big a Bison can be.)

And years later, when my dear husband began writing music, and needed to name his music publishing company, he flashed back to the early days, and a Big Bison was born. And doesn't THAT sound painful? So, there you have it, the Saga of the Naming of the Really Big Bison.

He's MY Really Big Bison, and I love him in a Really Big Way. Really.

If you doubt the musicality of a Really Big Bison, go to his website at http://www.bigbisonproductions.com/

For him (or her) who has ears...

Pin It I'm from West (by gosh) Virginia, and the West Virginia University football team is known as the Mountaineers. At football games, you'll see yahoos, I mean WVU fans, wearing huge foam ears over top of their own ears, as they stand up and scream, "How 'bout them 'EERS???" (Get it?)



So, today's post is for him, or her, who has ears.

If I seem to skip around a bit in the scriptures I'm posting about, it's only because I am. But I'm not. Our congregation has a scripture reading plan, and yesterday, we were to read Proverbs 1.

In Proverbs 1, you find the theme of the whole book right there in Chapter 1, verse 7:

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge,
but fools despise wisdom and discipline."

For Solomon, wisdom was where it's at. Acquiring wisdom was to be valued above all things.

For the Christian, the beautiful thing about Jesus is that he is described in I Corinthians 1:24 as the "wisdom of God". So, any time you read the word "wisdom" in the Proverbs, you can substitute the thought, "Oh, that's Jesus", and it fits!

When I was little, I used to think that being "smart" was where it was at.

And I prayed and asked for wisdom, too, because I wanted to be wise like Solomon.

Of course, I missed the part that what Solomon actually asked for was a discerning heart. He didn't just want to be "smart". He wanted to be able to govern God's people well, and to be able to discern right from wrong, in a world full of grey areas. And, the nice thing for Solomon was that God made him "smart" as well (that whole dividing up the baby to determine who was its real mother episode comes to mind).

So, what else does Solomon have to say about wisdom in Proverbs, Chapter 1?

In verses 20 and 21, he personifies wisdom and has her calling aloud, raising her voice, crying out and making a speech in the streets. They were a little short on mass media in that day - so, no newspapers or radio or TV or internet over which she might have attempted to broadcast her message. Still, she was out in the streets, trying to reach people, even raising her voice to get their attention.

And here's the part of her message that just grabbed my heart:

"If you had responded to my rebuke,
I would have poured out my heart to you
and made my thoughts known to you."

If Jesus is the wisdom of God, does Jesus ever rebuke us?

You bet. Look at how he talks to some of the churches in the book of Revelation. He rebukes most of the churches mentioned there. And finishes by saying in Rev. 3:19:

"Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent."

And then he goes on to say, "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me."

This is not a "salvation" verse. This is Jesus' promise to those who respond to his rebuke with repentance. It is the same kind of promise that we see in Proverbs, Chapter 1.

Do you want Jesus to come in and eat with you? Do you want him to pour out his heart to you, and make his thoughts known to you?

I do!!!

Then you and I need to be willing to HEAR his rebuke. (We don't like that very much in this age of "grace, grace, grace", do we?) But this verse is For Him (Or Her) Who Has Ears, right? Let Him hear what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

Got your ears on, Good Buddy?


Then we need to respond to that loving rebuke, because Jesus only rebukes and disciplines those He loves. And we need to repent.

And then, oh then, and here's the treasure, so don't miss it, then he comes in and eats with us, and pours out his heart to us, and makes His thoughts known to us. Sweet fellowship!

Here at the ROCK...

Pin It

OK, the title of today's entry is an homage to a WONDERFUL episode of the Andy Griffith show.

Barney tells a couple of prisoners, incarcerated in the hopeless Alcatraz of a jail cell of Mayberry:

"Now, men, here at the ROCK, we have a couple of rules...The first rule is: Obey all rules...."


This relates in NO WAY AT ALL to the story I am about to relate, except for the word "rock". Sorry about my flight of fancy....

My WONDERFUL husband, the Big Bison, has decided that it is time to pull the trigger on re-doing the counters in our kitchen.

I am SO all for that.

And granite is the way to go for us, as that is kind of the way of the 'hood. I know this, because my dear daughter and I routinely sell Girl Scout Cookies in this neighborhood, and we have VERY nice neighbors here in the Boonies, and they always invite us in when they are ordering cookies. And nearly all of the homes in our hood are doing the granite thing.

We kind of wondered WHY the folks who built OUR home DIDN'T put granite counters in in the first place, but I think the lady who lived here originally was more into painting than she was into cooking. Know what I mean?

Anyway, we're going to upgrade the kitchen a tad, and make it a bit nicer, so that if we EVER get out of the Boonies alive, our house will be more on par with the other houses out here.

We started to do this about a year ago, but the musical cow went dry, figuratively speaking. As in, the Big Bison's work kind of dried up for a season, and we needed our "granite money' to pay our living expenses.

This year, things are a bit easier, so it looks like I will be without a kitchen for about a week while the remodel is done.

So, here's the picture of the ROCK that my dear husband and I picked out for our kitchen counters. Actually, we had to buy a couple of slabs.



This particular type of granite is called, "Scottish Meadow" (in case anyone cares) and is from Brazil. What a Scottish Meadow is doing in the middle of a Brazilian granite quarry, I certainly have no idea. (Maybe the Brazilian who ran the quarry's name was Danny Boy. Really. No clue!)


One of my dear emaginary friends Stephanie told me that the picture, because of the little lights reflected in the rock behind me, looked like the aliens were getting ready to beam me up. All I can say to that is that (1) it was a cell phone picture and (2) if the aliens DID beam me up they wouldn't have a CLUE what to do with me once they got me there because I am so far left of normal, it would skew all their studies of how earthlings think.

Whatever.

Psalm 16: King David vs. Martha Stewart

Pin It Oh, my goodness! I think I have fallen in love and have found a new favorite psalm! My favorites tend to change on a daily basis, but still! This is a psalm FULL of thoughts that I just totally relate to! Different psalms relate to different seasons in our lives, I suppose, but this one hits me right where I am right now.

"Keep me safe, O God.
for in you I take refuge."

(Again with the refuge theme. I love that!)

"I said to the Lord, 'You are my Lord;
apart from you I have no good thing.'"

When I was reading this this morning, Martha Stewart and her famous trademark comment came to mind, and I could hear her saying in her velvety tones, "It's a good thing." (Let the reader beware: this is an obvious allusion to the fact that I hear voices, and anything I have to say SHOULD be held suspect. Well, you'll see what I mean in a moment...)

Because my brain is just not right, the next thing that came to mind was King David, Israel's Warrior King (and the man after God's own heart) and Martha Stewart in a Smack Down. My money's on the Warrior King, although Martha probably has her people on the phone with Absolom or the Philistines, getting insider info on how to fight dirty). And the headline reads:

King David Blows Martha Stewart Out of the WATER!!!

Back to what David really said...ahem....

Jaweh was HIS Lord. We forget that all around Israel, and even inside Israel, there WERE other choices. Very real, very tangible choices for who would be served as a deity. Different gods had different qualities to recommend themselves, depending on what power the worshiper needed.

But David's choice was clear - he had made his choice. No other god would be served by him, but the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Today, our choices of deities to serve are a little more veiled. The altars at which to leave our offerings are a little less concrete (or bronze or earthen). Our families, our homes, our personal pleasure, our sexuality, our appetites - all these deities whisper their attractiveness and their worthiness of our affections. They consume our thought lives and our efforts, as we serve them and their insatiable hunger for MORE of our time and devotion.

But David knew. He KNEW where true value, eternal value lies.

"Apart from YOU I have no good thing."

God is so good. And so worthy. Of all our affection.

Won't you take some time to be with Him and let things of eternal worth - TRULY good things - fill you up and renew your mind? Let Him give you His perspective on the issues with which you are wrestling? Take them to Your Father, and ask Him for new eyes, and a new heart, and the willingness to obey Him, whatever He calls you to do.

(And if you want to know more about where my heart is, go read the entire Psalm 16 for yourself. It is RICH, I tell ya! RICH!!! I could go on and on...but no one would read it....)

Thoughts on Psalm 9: A GOOD Stronghold

Pin It Verse 1 of Psalm 9 says:

"I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders."

Isn't God good?

I'll tell you one of His wonders right now, That He still cares for me. That's a wonder.

I suppose it's not just me. I'm probably not the only one who is rotten enough to be left on the side of the road as a hopeless case.

But I am so glad that His mercies are new every morning. Because I need them. Fresh and new, every day.

"What's on the menu today, Lord?"
"Well, hon, looks like you need a big stack of grace griddlecakes, with a steaming hot mug o'mercy to wash it down."
"Thanks, Lord."

Thank You for Your grace. Thank You for Your mercy. Piping hot and fresh. New, every morning.

Breakfast and fellowship with my King.

Verses 9 and 10 of Psalm 9 say:

"The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.
Those who know your name will trust in you,
for you, Lord, have never forsaken
those who seek you."

I've been meditating on those words for several hours. I love them. I want the Holy Spirit to breathe life into them for you.

Are you feeling oppressed? Is this a time of trouble for you? Then these verses are for you.

If you google the word "stronghold" you'll discover that its predominate usage in Christian circles is in association with "demonic strongholds". I'm not denying that those exist, but today, because of how the word is used in these verses of Psalm 9, I do want to take a moment to remind us that there is another meaning, the original meaning of the word.

A refuge is a shelter from danger or hardship. It provides protection. A stronghold is a strongly fortified defensive structure, a place of survival. It's where everybody ran during a battle when the enemy seemed about to take over the castle. Everyone ran (I can hear the words from Monty Python: "Run away! Run away!") to the stronghold, where the enemy could NOT break in, where there was provision, and protection.

When we know His Name, when we know who our God is, what His character is, we DO trust Him. Because He above anyone or anything else IS TRUSTWORTHY. So we RUN to our stronghold in complete confidence, because it is our loving Father, the Creator of the universe, who is in charge of our defense, and our future. He, Himself, is the wall around us. And David, the Warrior King, says that the Lord has NEVER forsaken those who seek Him. David, the Warrior, knew all about the need for a refuge and a stronghold in times of battle. And he knew the Perfect Refuge, the Perfect Stronghold.

So, this morning, I just wanted to encourage you, whatever your trouble or oppression, to run to the Trustworthy One, your Stronghold.

Of Secret Stashes and Caches:

Pin It Psalm 4: Lest you think God's Word no longer applies....

The NIV study Bible has a text note that helped me understand this psalm better this morning than perhaps I have done in the past. It says that David probably wrote this psalm in the face of some crisis in the nation, possibly drought, which was causing the people of Israel to turn to the Canaanite gods in their desire to save their crops, their livelihood, and their future.

Let's see here. That sounds remarkably like an economic slowdown. Which sounds vaguely familiar...

David urges the men NOT to love delusions or seek false gods.

In verse 3 he says,

" Know that the Lord has set apart the godly for himself;
the Lord will hear when I call to him."

What do you set apart for yourself?

At my house, there is precious little I get to enjoy these days that doesn't get devoured first by the Mongol hordes, who are also known as my husband and children. Any delectable little num-num that comes into the house seems to go directly into THEIR pie-holes, running quickly through their GI tract and directly into our septic tank. Too graphic for ya? Well, you get the idea.

A few weeks ago I went to a wonderful health food store known as Trader Joe's. I had been given a little insider information by Jen, one of my virtually emaginary friends, that their dark chocolate covered almonds were just da bomb. So I purchased a tub of these dainties of deliciousness, and secreted them away in the area of our house known as the butler's pantry. Hardly anyone ever looks there, since we have no Jeeves residing here, catering to our every whim. Well, don't you know, my dear husband AKA "Hoovie" for his ability to vacuum up whatever delicacies (LIKE CHEX MIX) I have made for the holidays (THREE batches he sucked down, with me getting barely a TASTE... but I digress) - yes, Hoovie himself found the secreted dark chocolate covered almonds. DANG!!!

Why the rant you ask?

Well, it occurred to me this morning while I was reading Psalm 4, that I set apart the very best treasures for myself largely because I am a selfish girl. God isn't greedy, like I am. But when God sets aside the godly for Himself, it IS because He treasures us.

And on days like today, when I wonder if my prayers are just bouncing back off the ceiling, and in times like these, when prices are escalating, and jobs are being lost right and left, and 401k's are disintegrating, isn't it good to know that our Father treasures us, and WILL HEAR US when we call to Him?

You should go read that psalm. It's a good one. And be sure and tell your Father in Heaven that you treasure Him, too. I think He enjoys that kind of thing.

Psalm 1: Blessed Is The Woman

Pin It Today, I was reading Psalm 1.

Here's the text of the first three verses:

Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

Whenever I slow down enough to think about this psalm, I always get a blessing. I'd like you to get a blessing, too, so let's slow down and do a bit of what they call meditating on God's Word together, shall we?

What does it mean to "not walk in in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers"?

I think it has to do with listening to the wrong people when it comes to making decisions on how I'm going to live my life. Perhaps at times it might mean not hanging around certain people if I find that their influence is dragging me down more than my influence is lifting them up. It's a fine line, isn't it? Jesus loved and associated with all types of people. But the Son of God didn't allow the priorities of those with worldly goals to affect or change His priorities. And that's what the psalmist is referring to here, I think. That we must not allow our minds to become molded by those with foolish priorities.

So what are the right priorities? Whatever God thinks is important.

"But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night."

So I ask myself, does God's Word still delight my soul? Do I find myself literally meditating on it, allowing it to renew my mind and my spirit? The Holy Spirit teaches us, and breathes life into us - but we have to give Him a chance to do it. And I think it's important to ASK Him to do it, too. "Holy Spirit, would you renew my mind? Would you please teach me today, and breathe Your life into me today, so that as things come up today, I tackle them with the wisdom that You give? And not with my same old, predictable, exhausted, sinful responses? I want Your mind to operate inside of me, please. I'm so tired of failing."

(Does this kind of prayer tip you off that I have a teenager?)

"He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers."

Whenever I read this part of the psalm, the same picture comes to my mind. When we lived in Nashville, we had a creek (that creek of beaver and snapping turtle fame) in our backyard that had beautiful trees growing beside it. These trees were magnificent. Had they fallen, they would have completely decimated our little house. In springtime, a beautiful purple wisteria plant climbed my favorite tree, and then the tree would burst into full leaf, and provide shade and shelter, and really, it was so huge it seemed to reach into heaven. But the reason that it grew to become so tall and magnificent was that it was firmly planted by a stream of living water. That creek nourished it lovingly, and the tree, consequently, flourished.

And that's how I want to be. Nourished by the living water of the Word of God and His Life-Giving Spirit. Equipped to do the job I was made to do. To yield my fruit in season, my leaves not withering. This morning those words "yielding my fruit IN SEASON " jumped out at me. That right now (in particular with my teenager) I'm not seeing much fruit from my work. But if I will persevere, in season, and at the proper season, I will see fruit.

So anyway, that's what I was thinking about this morning.

As the psalmist almost says, "Blessed is the Woman".

Delight in God's Word. Meditate on it. You'll bear fruit. That's the way these things work, and you can bank on it, if you will just persevere.

Rubber Cement Fondue

Pin It Sound yummy???


Well, actually it turned out to be really delicious, but on the particular batch you will see pictured in this blog, I learned an important lesson that I will pass along to you, so that you can make a really delicious, authentically Swiss fondue, and avoid the whole unpleasant rubber cement issue.

This post had its beginnings 28 years ago when I lived in Switzerland, where I was attending the University of Lausanne studying French, and serving as a missionary apprentice. My two roommates (Donna and Val) and I were working for a Ukrainian missionary who did short wave radio broadcasts preaching the gospel to the people of Ukraine (which at that time was still what we used to call behind the Iron Curtain). The missionary also pastored a French speaking congregation there in Lausanne, Switzerland, and so we came to serve him and his family and the congregation there.

As you can imagine, living in Switzerland for a couple of years is not exactly serving the underprivileged, and we LOVED having the opportunity to live there. Donna and Val became like sisters to me, and even now, when we get together every few years or so, we fall back into the same easy, loving friendship. Here's a picture of the three of us, gathered around the old fondue pot in my purple kitchen in the Boonies, with the additional estrogen of the Boonie Baby thrown into the evening's mix (but not thrown into the fondue pot, because that would make for some kinda weird potent fondue).




While living in Switzerland, we did a bit of first hand research into how to make a really great fondue. One thing Donna and Val learned on their first trial run, before I arrived, was that if you don't have white wine, you really can't substitute red wine in your fondue recipe, or you will have pink fondue. Which might be kind of fun for a winter baby shower where you know the sex of the baby, but really, apart from that, it's probably not an innovation on the recipe that is much in demand.

The next thing we learned is that every region in Switzerland has its own special fondue recipe variation, and of course, each region believes that theirs is the MOST delicious, but the recipe I'll offer you is fairly standard, and is a guaranteed winner. That is, if you avoid the mistake that I made the night these pictures were taken.

More about that in a few moments.

You will notice that kirsch is a listed ingredient. It is also called kirschwasser, and is a clear, cherry brandy. It really is available in most any liquor store here in the States if you just ask. I know this, because I can find it in the liquor store here in the Boonies, so, if they have it here, I figure it must be available just about anywhere else in the US. For international readers? Well - I don't know what you gals in Laos and Saudi Arabia are gonna do, especially when it comes to procuring kirsch, Gruyère, and Emmenthaler. I am wishing you all the best, however, and be sure to let me know of your angst, and I'll dip a chunk of bread in the hot melty stuff in your honor next time I make a batch.

Find some good Swiss cheeses. You will need a Swiss Gruyère and an Emmenthaler. There just is no compromising on the cheeses. I tried some American Emmenthaler from Trader Joe's two times ago when I made a fondue, and it was wrong - it was just wrong. There can be no further discussion of this point as far as I am concerned. I can generally find my Gruyère at Costco, and my Emmenthaler at Kroger.

This is a perfect recipe for a cold winter's night, which is why I am telling you about it in January, so that all you northern hemisphere dwellers can do something about trying it now. If you live in the Southern Hemisphere, well, you're just way ahead of the curve. And if you live in the tropics, I'm very sorry, because I doubt this recipe will sound nearly so appealing to you. The Swiss serve it in the summertime in restaurants, but that's how they know for sure they have a real tourista among them. But they're very polite, and will gladly take your Euros all the same. When Donna and Val came to visit me in June, we had a fondue, and it was lovely, so feel free to ignore the Swiss prejudice, and serve it any time you darn well please.



Without further ado, then, here is my recipe for a lovely, non-rubber cement-like fondue.

Traditional Cheese Fondue

1 garlic clove, halved and smashed
2/3 c. dry white wine
1 t. fresh lemon juice
10 oz. Emmenthaler cheese, grated
10 oz. Gruyère cheese, grated
1 T. cornstarch
3 T. kirsch
Pinch of freshly ground white pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1 lb. loaf French bread, cubed

Rub the inside of a 4 qt. saucepan with the smashed garlic clove halves, and then rub the inside of your fondue dish as well. Discard the garlic. (chunks of uncooked garlic are not tasty in a fondue) Pour the wine and the lemon juice into the saucepan, set over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Gradually add the cheeses, stirring in a figure-eight motion until the cheeses are combined., 3 or 4 minutes.

In a small bowl, whisk together the cornstarch and kirsch until blended. As soon as the cheese mixture begins to bubble, add the cornstarch mixture. Continue to cook gently, 2 to 3 minutes more, then stir in the white pepper and nutmeg. Reduce the heat to low and keep the fondue warm, stirring occasionally, until ready to serve.

When ready to serve, assemble the fondue pot, add the cheese fondue to the pot and keep warm according to the manufacturer's instructions. Serve with bread cubes and individually marked fondue forks for dipping.

This recipe barely feeds my family of four, and leaves them whining for more, because they can be somewhat gluttonous when the food is good.



*****HOW TO AVOID RUBBER CEMENT FONDUE*****

Be sure before you transfer the melted cheese mixture to the fondue pot that the cheese is not just barely melted, but is GOOD and HOT. You don't want it so hot that it separates and breaks down that way, but if it is only barely melted, it will be so thick you will believe from its texture that it IS rubber cement. And you will need to find a pair of scissors to detach the bread cubes from the glutinous mass of cheese in the fondue pot. It is good for quite a few belly laughs, but not nearly so appetizing. If perchance, despite my warning, this DOES happen to you, as the fondue heats up over the fondue pot's burner, it will eventually relax, and still be just as delicious. Don't ask me how I know. Just accept this for the truth that it is.

George, The Chicken

Pin It I'd like to tell you a little bit about my family, and this morning, I think I'll start off with our Little Bit, the youngest member of our family. She is, as any good Irishman would tell you, the light o'my life, my little ray of sunshine. I'll call her the Boonie Baby, for the moment, as I'm not sure yet if I want to go with using their first names or not.

As of this entry, she is 11 years old, and on the verge of leaving little girlhood behind. She came downstairs to say goodnight to me the other night, her eyes brimming with tears. She curled up on my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck, buried her head in my shoulder and said, "I don't want to grow up." And I, feeling my own eyes filling with tears, in my deep parental wisdom replied, "Baby, you've got yourself a deal. Just don't, and we'll both be happy." I remember saying the same things to my Mom, and having those same feelings. We both hear the train a comin', and I dread its arrival.

But: my post title. What in the Sam Hill does this have to do with George the Chicken?

Well, it doesn't, exactly. But to describe my Little Bit to you adequately, you really need a glimpse of her beautifully disturbed mind. And I can think of no finer example than George, the Chicken.

We began to suspect my daughter was either crazed or brilliant at around age 5. She had always been delightfully silly and giggly. "Isn't that what little girls are made of?" I asked myself. Sugar and spice and everything nice? My little girl is pure cane sugar, 100% organic, with a healthy dash of cayenne. She is sweet and spicy! Heavy on the sweet, but wow! Has she got some zing!

The story I am about to relate I did not witness first hand, so I may err on a few minor points. I suspect it has grown in the telling and re-telling, not quite reaching urban myth status, but my husband and son and daughter all assure me that it really, really happened, just like this. I was somewhere, doing something undoubtedly important. Otherwise, I would not have missed this monumental moment. But my dear husband was driving the children in the car across town, and little 5 year old Little Bit was strapped into her car seat in the back seat, talking merrily away to herself. For some reason, my dear husband, the Big Bison, decided to pay attention. Perhaps it had something to do with the Boonie Baby's claim to have a live chicken in her underwear. He begged her pardon, and cooly inquired, "What did you say?". She repeated, this time a bit more loudly, that she had a live chicken in her underwear. "Oh, really?" asked her somewhat intrigued father. "Yes, his name is George. And he's having a heart attack." "Is that so?" nodded the pater familias. "Yes, and he has rabies.".

"Hmm. OK. Let me get this straight. You have a rabid chicken in your underwear whose name is George, and he's having a heart attack?" verified her somewhat bewildered Daddy.

By this point, both children had dissolved into fits of riotous laughter, and mayhem ensued. Presumably along with the poultry medical crisis in my daughter's underwear. Once she had calmed herself, the tale of George the rabid avian cardiac case, went on, and its details are lost in the mists of time, but our dear daughter could spin tales if left unhindered lasting in excess of 30 minutes. We finally had to put the kibosh on some of her stream of consciousness ramblings, because it was eating up all our incredibly valuable dead air time, (and if you've ever had a child, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about) but you get the drift. She's a mess. And continues to be so to this day. Lord! Thank You for such a glorious little mess! She fills our family with joy, and my heart with wonder.

But you might want to be on the lookout for George, and if you see him, please, render any medical assistance you deem necessary.

A Tale of Two Critters

Pin It The players:

Deacon D. Dawg: happiest in the creek






My dear husband, the Big Bison: happiest in the studio, but equally happy going hunting



A notoriously vicious beaver

A snapping turtle

This story plays out best told in the oral tradition, complete with accents and hand motions. However, for the sake any blog readers who may not have read it on the Sonlight Forums, I will attempt to set it down in a written/electronic fashion.

The story takes place, surprisingly NOT in the Boonies, but in our little 1948-built suburban home that we USED to live in when we lived back in Nashville. I figure before I move on to telling all the present wonders of my Wild Life in the Woods, I ought to set down in written form a few of the past glories as well. At that house, we had a creek that all the wildlife left in the city frequented, so even before we lived in the Boonies, we had lots-o'-wildlife. Deer, foxes, cranes, and one day, a beaver. Deacon alerted us to the presence of the beaver with wild relentless barking. We have this on videotape. The beaver was patrolling a particular bend in the creek like Barney Fife in front of the Mayberry courthouse, back and forth he swam. We actually recorded this on videotape, and if you come to see me someday, I might even show it to you. Deacon lunged at the orange toothed rodent, and got a big gash on his elbow for his trouble. After we all retreated to the house (dragging the dripping dog out of the creek, still barking and lunging at the beaver), the beaver must have decided he had had enough excitement, so he moved on to a quieter locale, perhaps in downtown Atlanta. My dear husband, the intrepid hunter, talked to a friend of ours who was an attorney for the city of Nashville, who advised us that if an animal is an imminent threat to the health of a family member, one could perfectly legally shoot said animal. (Now remember, at that time we lived in a suburban neighborhood.) I could see the Big Bison mentally licking his proverbial chops at the thought of the trophy rodent who got away.

Now, if you've read this far, you might be thinking that the "two critters" are Deaky and the Beaver. Well, if that's your assumption, then you'd be wrong. I was actually referring to two undomesticated creek critters. The first WOULD be the Beaver. But the second critter took the stage about 6 months after the Notoriously Vicious Beaver Incident. (NVBI)

In our neighborhood, in the house immediately to the left of us, our neighbor operated an illegally zoned day care out of her home. She had a big tall fence around her backyard to keep the little tykes out of the creek, and the nosy neighbors from reporting her (of course, it was no secret to us, and we never did report her, but all morning you'd hear the kids outside playing on her big play sets). On the right side of our home lived our dear friend Betsy, a single gal and a dear friend of mine. So, one morning I was outside weeding the garden, listening to the sounds of the daycare children swinging and playing, when Deacon began his incredibly loud frantic barking - like he had the morning of the NVBI. My dear son, who was probably 10 at the time, came running back from the creek yelling, "Mom, Deacon's lunging at a HUGE snapping turtle!!!" Now, the thing about snapping turtles is that once they latch on, they DON'T LET GO.

So i told my dear son, "Run, tell your Dad!". Dear son obediently runs into the house, and I run to the creek, remembering the NVBI, and begin screaming, "Deacon! Deacon!". It was as if I were the wind. The dog was in an absolute Labradorian frenzy, and would pay me no heed, no matter how urgently I screamed his name. He was in the creek (3 ft. deep) on the other side, lunging at this HUGE turtle, and I knew disaster was imminent. Enter: The Cavalry, aka the Big Bison, on the run, with a fevered look in his eye, and brandishing a 12 gage shotgun and a pitchfork. This man was READY to defend wife, children, home and property, and yes, if necessary, even his stupid Labrador.

The BB manages to call and grab the dog, and says, "Get inside, and keep the dogs and the kids inside!". I rapidly comply, and hear the sound of a veritable CANNON going off, followed by absolute and complete silence from the kids in the daycare behind the tall fence. I mean following the SONIC BOOM, there wasn't even a birdie chirping. I had called my dear friend Betsy and told her what was going on, and she and I were standing outside in her driveway as I recounted the tale of the morning's adventure. We glanced down her driveway, and saw a police cruiser, slowly rolling to a stop, in front of, you guessed it, my house. My heart, which had calmed a bit after its earlier adrenaline rush, began to beat a bit faster as one of Nashville's finest strolled down Betsy's driveway adjusting the buckle of his belt underneath his huge belly.

(The following dialog must be read with the knowledge that the police officer's accent was deeply, DEEPLY southern. This is where the oral tradition of telling this story adds so much.)

Police Officer: "Mornin', Ladies. Y'all know anything about a woman screaming?"

Me: "Good morning! A woman screaming? Why, um, yes. That would have been me."

PO: "Well, y'all know anything about a gun being discharged?"

Me: "A gun? Hmmm. Well, um, that would have been my husband."

PO: (Momentarily stumped as to how to proceed...) "Well, uh, can ya tell me about that?"

Me: "Well, you see, officer, my dog was going after a snapping turtle back there at the creek," at this point I am gesturing back toward the woods in back of my house, "and my husband decided to try to take care of the situation..."

Looking at the police officer, who, by this time had been joined by a second police officer, whose police cruiser rolled up right after the first one, I could see a look of TOTAL and COMPLETE disbelief on both their faces as they scanned my body for bruises, red marks, or open gaping wounds.

1st PO: "Well, Ma'am, where is your husband now?"

I turned again to gesture back toward the woods, and as if on cue, the BB appeared walking through our little garden trellis archway, carrying the pitchfork, and somehow, speared on the end of it was a snapping turtle the size of an extra large pizza.

The PO's regarded each other in stunned silence, and then approached the BB.

PO: "Uh, Sir, did you know it's against the law to discharge a weapon in the Urban Services District?"

BB: "Really? Well, I talked to my friend who is an attorney for the city and he told me that if I or my family were in imminent danger, that it would be legal."

PO#1: "Well, uh, if they were in danger..."
PO#2: "You got a permit for that weapon?"

BB: "Oh, yes, I'm a hunter and I use my guns when I go deer and turkey hunting."

PO#1: "You are? Me too! Where do you go hunting?"
PO#2 : (Nodding in the direction of the snapping turtle)"Say, you know, you gotcha some good eatin' there..."

And that is how that night at my house, I walked into my kitchen and saw the talons and feet of what looked remarkably like a dinosaur, sticking out and up over the edge of my sink. My dh marinated them in a little Dale's (a soy sauce seasoning here in the South) , sliced 'em up, and grilled 'em.

My dear friend Betsy and her Mom came over for some snappin' turtle as well. And although it is very tempting to tell you that it tasted like chicken, to me it tasted like a rubber band that had been marinated in soy sauce. But my dear friend Betsy says she still laughs to this day remembering me saying to my daughter, "No more snapping turtle until you finish your veggies".