I spent some time with some really great people today.   They're incredibly focused and purposeful people.  God has used them to accomplish great things for His kingdom. 

 

Time like that is always refreshing. 

 

It also causes me to make a broad sweep of my life and evaluate. 

 

 I don't want to fear that process. 

 

Sometimes, I do though. 

Did anyone count how many times Nancy stood up last night? 

There sure were a lot of promises made in that speech last night.   

 

 

I just read Carl Cartee's  January 31 blog.  He's a worship leader in Nashville.  (link below)

 

 

I was struck by some of the things he said about the church.   

 

God loves His church.  I want to love it, too.  Sometimes, I think I genuinely love the church.  Sometimes,  the struggle to love is a great one.   But it is a struggle that can't be avoided.  If I love God, I must love His people.  No matter what.     

 

 

Bart said to me:  "We have to hunker down with our finances this year."

 

I said:  "What does that mean?  Practically, I mean.  You can't just say:  "We need to hunker down,"  without explaining yourself." 

 

He said:  "Well, it means, to hunker down."

 

I said:  "I'm starting to hate that word."

 

He said:  "hunker hunker hunker"

 

This is usually how our budget discussions start; tense but kind of funny.  It disintegrates from there. 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, I vacuumed.  Clean carpet escapes most people's notice.  As a matter of fact, most kinds of cleaning go unnoticed in this house.  I'm not saying that to feel sorry for myself.  It's just a fact.  The only time the cleaning gets noticed, is when I haven't done it in a long time. 

 

So, while vacuuming, I was thinking...If I vacuum when no one is around to notice, did I really vacuum? 

 

Just when I was thinking how this job was going to rob me of my sanity, the mailman walked up on the porch, and waved at me.

 

I was seen.  By the mailman.  My work is real.  Somebody saw me cleaning. 

 

I laughed and sighed in one breath, as Mr. Corn (yes, that's the mailman's name, he's our neighbor) walked off the porch.

 

The amusement it brought me was short lived.  A few hours later, Sarah tracked mud in every carpeted room on the main floor when she got home from school. 

 

I didn't fly off the handle, though, as I have done so many times in the past.   

 

I attribute that little miracle of self control to my funny but pathetic encounter with the mailman.  Thank you, Mr. Corn, on behalf of my still relatively intact sanity, and my daughter's unbruised spirit.  You validated my existence yesterday, and you brought me the new Garnet Hill catalog. 

 

 

 

 

Services yesterday were a herky jerky, uninspiring mess.   

 

But, today, it's time to focus on next Sunday.   

 

Progress in my heart takes unexpected roads.  I don't feel paralyzed by regret.  I feel free to move on, and I even feel thankful for the small amount of good that came out of yesterday. 

 

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trust in Him, and I am helped; Therefore my heart exults, and with my song I shall thank Him.  Psalm 28:7

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've been craving nachos for 2 months.  Last night, I threw all caution to the wind and had nachos. 

 

It was the sweetest 10 minutes (ok, i inhaled them in more like 5 minutes) I've had since I got sick.

 

This morning, while staring at my inflamed tongue between hurried trips to the toilet, I still pondered ordering them again tonight.

 

how sad is that?

My friend Laura is a farm girl.  She comes right from chores to worship team practice on Tuesday nights.  Last week, she came in, and she had the coolest boots on.  They looked like Doc Martin boots, but only worn and scuffed and weathered way better than any Doc Martins could ever look.  I asked her where she got them.

 

  She looked down, looked at me, and said:  "these are my work boots."

 

People who are oblivious to how cool they are, are truly the coolest of all.