Excuses, Excuses!

Misery doesn't only love company, misery also loves excuses.

This morning I was reading John 5, which is an account of Jesus healing an invalid (*) man. 

*Years ago, when I was on a Bible Quiz Team, we were studying this chapter and one of my teammates had been reading the word "invalid" not as a cripple, but as in, "Invalid response. Abort, retry, fail?"  That poor in-valid man, no wonder he wanted to be healed.  

image credit

 OK, back to the issue at hand.

Jesus asked him a direct question:

"Do you want to get well?"

That's a great question, isn't it?  The answer is kind of rhetorical.  Of course he wants to get well.  If not, he wouldn't be where he is, lying there, waiting for hand-outs, and trying to get into the pool of water (which would occasionally be stirred up by an angel, and whoever got in first got healed--Hey, don't look at me funny, I'm just rephrasing the footnote in verse 4).

But the answer that the man gave Jesus is not what we would have expected. 

"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred.  While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me." 

He starts in with excuses.  He gives all the reasons for why he is not well.  He's already given in to defeat (it had been 38 years, after all), so he's offering an invitation to his pity party.

I hear refrains of, nobody helps me, everyone else gets to do what they want, and life isn't fair.

Maybe I only hear that because those are the thoughts in my own mind, more frequently than I would like to admit.  Frankly, life isn't fair.  And a lot of days I argue that fact, wanting fairness, wanting my turn to do something I want to, or at least wanting a break.  

I don't know what Jesus saw in the invalid man that day, but I'm glad He took the initiative to get involved.  Jesus didn't ask him any other questions, didn't preach to him, and didn't rebuke him for his train of thought.

If I imagine this scene, the man is still lying there, maybe not even looking at Jesus.  He might be looking at the pool, bitter with disappointment that it has never yet been his turn.  Perhaps he was thinking of all the people who had let him down by not helping him quickly enough, or maybe not even being there at all.  I imagine Jesus nodding, then interrupting his thoughts with a completely new idea.

Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”  At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.

That was it.  It was as though Jesus had said, Since no one is able to get you into the pool quickly enough, why don't you just jump in there yourself?  And he got up and walked.

So often in my mind I hear a question, like, "Do you want to do something with your days?" and instead of answering, "Yes!  Of course!" I start going on and on about how I can't.  Because there are groceries to be bought and lunches to be made and floors to be vacuumed and laundry to be put away.  Because there are facebook statuses to be commented on and pictures to be uploaded.  Because everyone else goes out and has fun and I have to stay home and hold down the fort.  Because there's a baby on the way and I am certain I will never again accomplish anything except feed, change, and carry.  Because it's been so long since I've had a life and felt like I was contributing to anything beyond the confines of my small and cluttered house. 

And Jesus nods and asks, "Well, why don't you just stand up and start doing something?"

I believe I read this today because I'm at a critical point.  He is asking me, "What do you want to do?" and I don't even have an answer.   I have been thinking that the answer has been, "No, I can't do that," for so long that I have lost the ability to hope beyond just making it to bed at the end of the day.  I have a feeling Paul was addressing this reasoning as well when he spoke "of all men to be pitied." 

The option is there--to believe that what Jesus offers is everything I need to be everything He's called me to be.  I can just believe that He has given me everything I need for life and godliness.  If I will stop with the excuses, and get up and walk, He has a great and miraculous story to unfold.  

I'm linking up with the Soli Deo Gloria girls again today. 

A Hope and A Future

Because the Lord promises to give us a hope and a future, it is important to spend a little time considering what hopes we have for the future.

Today during nap time I am sitting with a huge bottle of water, ignoring the dryer that just stopped spinning, and imagining.  Some of these imaginings are about things I want to have, and things I want to do, and some of them are kind of silly.  But what's the point of imagining if you don't throw in some silly?

One day I hope to ...

Plant a real Square Foot Garden this coming spring;

Which means I hope to create a plan, with a month-by-month schedule before the end of the year.

Use my sewing machine that sits forlornly in the corner right next to my computer.

Wean this child before she's 4;

And immediately buy myself something to wear under my shirts that doesn't have the prefix "nursing".

Have a back porch.  Or a front porch.  Or at least a pleasant place to sit outside.

Have space between my back porch and the neighbors.

Have neighbors that I don't worry will rent to someone who later gets picked up by the U. S. Marshals.  (It really happened.)  Or rat on each other to the cops when they're mad, saying they have cocaine.  And they do.  (It really happened.)  Or let their dogs harass us and defecate in our own front yard.  (It really happens.)

Hang pictures on the wall.

Have something on the wall that qualifies as art.

Run a 5K.  And then maybe something more.

Get a good hair cut, and maintain it.

Get a motorcycle license.

Visit Costa Rica.

Visit China.

Visit New York City.

Print and create a workable way to store our photos.

Finish Lizzie's baby book before I have another baby.

Learn how to use a fancy still camera.

Play the piano every day, like I used to.

Learn to make a custard.

Learn to make a souffle.

Order Beef Wellington at a restaurant once, just to see why Chef Ramsay is so obsessed with it.

Learn to make a good cocktail.

Have a deep freezer, to be stocked with dinners, soups, meats, and produce from our garden.

Understand Mandarin Chinese.  Maybe even write it.  Maybe even speak it.

Learn as many recipes as I can from Sam's mom.

Write a book that encourages women in some form or fashion.

Write a cookbook.  Maybe with recipes from Sam's mom.  And a custard.  And a good cocktail.

Write more recipes on this blog.  I have more pictures ready to go, they just haven't gone up yet. 

Get a college degree from an accredited school that is still in existence.  Maybe in marketing.



What do you want in your future?

Or what did you do during a nap time this week?

Realizations of a novice blogger

This month has been the first time I have really put forth the effort to carve out my online presence.  This blog has about 150 posts, and it has been in operation for over two years, but I'm really still a n00b.

These are some of the things I have learned over the past few weeks:

I was posting just for the sake of having something to post every day.  And I felt like some of it was, if I am honest, annoying.

I write really, really, really, really long posts.  I'm sorry.  I will try to keep them shorter.  I even cut this one into two posts already.  As if you could tell.

I have a bad habit of being a first-draft blogger.  Half-baked thoughts may be "raw" and "honest" but there is a reason some things should be cooked thoroughly.  I need to break this habit.

Fortunately saving drafts has helped me this week in a few ways:
My writing has more clarity and purpose when I begin to write a draft, and save it for publishing later.
Having a draft available to work on means that I do not have to spend as much time creating or fighting through a mental block.
Scheduling a posting time makes sure it doesn't remain a draft forever, and gives me a deadline to just let it go.  I believe it was Steady Mom who mentioned that she does this.  Or maybe it was Clover Lane.  Either one of them is believable, because they put out great content, and have solid advice.
The evening before a post is scheduled, I just give it a final once-over, and wish it good night.  In the morning, it has posted, and I can have my quiet time, my coffee, and cuddles with my little girl, without fretting that the blogosphere has gone on without me.


When I have my quiet time in the Word in the morning, taking the time to pray and waiting on the voice of the Father, I feel less of a need to seek out affirmation and feedback from the world online.  Inspired to Action has been helpful; I'm not following their specific program, but it was enough of a push to get me moving. 


Creating a blog calendar has helped me keep straight what I will write for the week, and figure out what blog carnivals I would link to, and let me see a pattern--if any--to my posting.  Alicia's Homemaking mentioned a blogging calendar and the lightbulb went off above my head in a "why didn't I think of that?" moment.

I stalked my stats this week.  I'm trying to figure out what they mean.  I read Kludgy Mom's articles about a million tools to make your blog more useful and cooler and to help you make sense of the stats. I haven't made sense of them, but they're entertaining. But now I have a search widget, and it entertains me.  Go ahead, search it.  It'll be fun.

Apparently I need to work on asking better open-ended questions.  Or maybe I just ask them on days when I have more traffic.  As though I could time that.

I am really close to opening a Twitter account.  Will that place me on the dark side?

Have these been lessons you have learned as well?  What else have you learned that you can share with a young grasshopper?

Coffee and a Purpose in Writing

Good morning.

I'm linking up with the Company Girls again today.

Sam is interviewing right now. Well, actually it's a meeting, which may have a large pool of additional interviewees, but it is a start. And it is for a job that he is very excited about. I am, too.

It's been an interesting few months. Having no real income is a drag. Yes, we have been OK, and we thank God for His provision. And thank God for our families and dear friends who care about us. We are blessed.

Having Sam here nearly every day has been great. It will be different when he starts working again and I won't be able to just leave Lizzie at home while I run errands. I'll have to actually take her with me to Kroger. Poor Lizzie won't know what to do with herself with only one parent around all the time. She will miss having Dada at her beck and call all day. I'll miss having him around to bounce ideas off of, and to ask him questions right away, instead of having to wait until he comes home. And to have him available to change a couple of diapers, refill a sippy cup, or take Lizzie out when she goes crazy asking to swing.

And as much as I love having him around, it will also be nice to have the house to myself, work out my own schedule, and only clean up after myself and Lizzie for most of the day.

What else, what else?

It has been cool this week. Highs in the 70's, lows in the 60's. We have had quite a bit of rain. But when it hasn't been rainy, it has been perfect. Sunny, breezy, perfect. We have had the windows open more often than not.

The cool weather has brought one of the cats onto my lap. He's such a wimp, and can't stand being the slightest bit chilly.

Lizzie is still sleeping. I am so glad. We had a late night, and she had no nap. So if she sleeps until 10, I will not complain.

This past week I have been really considering this blog, its purpose, and its use of my time. As I have been praying and thinking about it, I have done reading and research, and have felt very purposeful about it. That has never happened before. I have always felt it has been some kind of hobby, almost a waste of time (but not quite).

Yesterday - or maybe Wednesday - I finished categorizing my posts. There's a list of them on the sidebar. I'm pretty sure that there are too many tagged as "miscellaneous". And most of the posts are far too long. However, doing that helped me see where I have emphasized different things, different subjects, and different aspects of life.

There will come a day when I change my blog name and move it over to a different format. Not right now, and not until I really have it set up, planned, and ready.

The idea of a new, shiny, purposeful, professional-looking blog excites me. If I set out to compose a blog, I want to do it well. I want it to be more than just ramblings. Of course sometimes I will "flap my gums" via the keyboard, but I hope there will be substance and something of worth in the pages.

I picked out a name for it. I even googled the name, and it's not copyrighted. So I claimed it already.

I am hammering out a vision for it. I know that it will grow, and it will change, as I do. The beauty of a blog is that it is not static.

I believe that the opportunity to write is a gift. I believe that I am truly called to write. I believe I have something to share. Something to say. Something in my hands to hold out to the world.

While you are reading, do you have any words of wisdom, experience, or constructive criticism to add? What has spurred you on to blog? What have you learned about the creative or technical aspects of blogging?

What's a blog for?

Today I'm thinking about blogging. It has become a pastime of millions, many of them being SAHM (stay-at-home-moms) looking for a way to have a voice and connect with millions of others in the SAHM universe. Add me to the list, and you have millions plus one.

I'm trying to figure out why exactly I am keeping up this blog. The tag on the side says it is a blog "in which Cindy writes about stuff that crosses her mind." I am not like "Julie" in the movie "Julie and Julia" who created her blog with a purpose in mind. And then stuck with it.
The reality is that I can barely follow a single train of thought for more than 20 seconds, let alone do something, document it, and post it online, all while trying to make sure those decapitated animal crackers aren't permanently set into the couch cushions.

Part of the reason is because I want to use it as sort of a "log" of what's going on with me. I don't keep a diary or anything of the sort. Who uses paper and pens anymore? (Really, I am a sucker for a new double-spiral bound notebook and fine-tipped pen, even if I haven't used one in a long time.) More than that, every piece of paper in the house has had an attempt on its life by a toddler wanting to "color". I have a feeling a pretty notebook would meet its end very quickly, so I settle for left over legal pads.

Also, I have a baby book for Lizzie, but at this point, all of her "firsts" are scribbled in a small day planner, since I don't have the patience to dig out the pretty book and find a pretty pen and write a pretty caption for "5th tooth" and "says 'bubble'" and "first boo-boo" every time something happens. Having a blog allows me to make broad, sweeping generalizations (like "colors with chalk on driveway" and "demands to go outside by finding shoes and hurling them at any able-bodied adult") so in a few years I'll be able to look back and go, "oh, that's what she was doing at 14 months."

Blogging helps me process things sometimes. There have been a few times lately that I have had something on my heart or on my mind that I've felt the need to find the way to articulate. Writing at the computer has kind of always been my way of putting words to what's going on internally. I used to write e-mails. The sad thing is that I don't often write e-mails to specific people these days; I just write a generic, somewhat depersonalized, safe-for-the-general-unknown-internet-public monologue.

I also used to write "the next e-mail"--a weekly email that went out to over 100 people, mostly in the college age bracket, connected through COC and/or BWAB, or by my just happening to know you. It was a sort of newsletter, sort of encouraging memo, sort of announcement venue, sort of Cindy's-stream-of-consciousness-processing-through-life e-mail. I lost vision for that e-mail shortly after getting married and beginning to work full time. I'd been writing it for about 4 years, which is a fairly long time. Without a weekly place to send my thoughts, I lost my motivation to write for a while. Maybe blogging would give me a chance to share again. The truth of the matter is that when my heart is doing well, and I'm receiving life, I am motivated to open up and share life as well.

These days most often my blog updates are inspired by having a circle of friends found through the Company Girls at Home Sanctuary. I don't know how I stumbled upon this blog by Rachel Anne Ridge, but it has been rather transformational as it relates to my household, and to my blogging. Even though if you looked at my house right now, you would wonder whether I have ever taken any thing she's ever said to heart, it has been a pleasure to keep company with these women.

I follow a handful of blogs: One belongs to my mom (a soon-to-be published author), some belong to my friends, some belong to friends who make beautiful crafty things, some belong to my friends' parents, some belong to people who take amazing photographs, some belong to people who make amazing food (and also take amazing photographs of said food), some belong to people who are entertaining and take amazing photographs of amazing food. There are plenty of others, too, of course.

I just visited Alicia's Homemaking (via Home Sanctuary) and am amazed at someone in a similar circumstance (young married, with a young toddler, with a limited income, with a student husband, doing her best to show love and honor Jesus) blogging daily with a goal and purpose in each post. She does useful things with her blog, like she shows off cool things she found at thrift stores and makes pancakes for her student friends.

It makes me wonder whether this is a season in life when I should pursue writing (in any form, maybe online, maybe in the privacy of my personal Microsoft Word documents, maybe on pretty notebook paper). Or if I should turn off my computer's wireless connection for a month and see if I actually missed anything of great importance.

The reality is that if I am to write anything, I would have to write about what is important to me, or I would have no drive to write it at all. I would also have to have a sense that it was as important as anything else that I am responsible for doing - like caring for my family, maintaining the house, having a quiet time, and getting enough sleep. At this point, if I sit at the computer, I don't usually have much purpose to it. I sit down, lose track of time, and before I know it, I jump up, thinking, "Oh no! I totally forgot to ...." and feel pressure to do something I should have been doing while I sat and jabbered on.

If you are reading this, I have a question for you. What drew you to blogging? Do you have a purpose for your blog? If so, what is it? Did your blog or your writing have a defining moment?

Update on Liz, Life, and My Heart

Lizzie update, 13 months:

Lizzie has fallen in love. With the motorcycle. Every time she thinks of it, hears the word, sees a picture of one, or sees us go into the garage, she growls and points to the garage, and then signs "more" because she wants us to take her to look at it again. Yesterday morning Sam was on the computer at the table while we were eating breakfast. He followed a link to a video where there was a motorcycle, and all of a sudden we had to watch "more" motorcycles, or there was going to be a heartbroken toddler in her high chair.

Yesterday, Lizzie learned to say the word "apple." It surprised me entirely, because I haven't tried to teach it to her. I was giving her some apple juice, and the next thing I know, she was saying what sounded like "abba" or "abbo." So then of course I gave her an apple, and we read a book that had an apple on the cover, and we showed off this skill over and over again. It's not a fluke - she says it consistently now.

This brings her word count up to 5, plus growls and grunts.
Mama, oon (balloon), k'k (kick), Dada, moo (cow; except it's more like raspberries followed by 'oo'), and various sounds for things that make noises: "who who" for sirens or a train, also for owls, "ow" for meow, "broo" for the elephant trumpet, and "hrrr" for dogs barking, vehicles rumbling, lions, bears, or anything that growls.
She signs "more" and "all done" and "change" (when I ask her if we need to change her diaper), round and round (fan, wheels, anything that turns or spins), and up. And of course, she points and gestures and whines. Nods "yes" with her whole body when we ask her something that she wants.
She also blows kisses, runs, twirls in circles, sways when she hears music, claps, and laughs (almost) on command. She puts her hands up when we say "Praise the Lord!" She can find and retrieve things if I ask her to (e.g., Go bring me your drink; it's by the piano.). She throws tantrums when she is very tired and can't communicate what she wants or just doesn't like what's happening at the moment.
Her 9th tooth popped through yesterday. Yesterday was apparently a really big day. Last night was the first night in about a week that I put her to bed without Ibuprofen drops.

In all, Lizzie is a joy and a very smart little girl. Today we went to play group at the mall, where we watched The Veggie Tales Movie (about the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything) during their free showing, then played in the play area, and ate at the food court. It was a very eventful day, and even after being home for a little over an hour, Lizzie is still unwinding. I am hoping she will eventually fall asleep, since she's been in her bed, clapping and chattering to herself for about 45 minutes.

I would have some more recent photos here, to try to break up the huge blocks of text, but I have lost the camera's battery. I'm praying it turns up soon, and not chewed up by a teething toddler.

Life, etc.

After talking with a few friends a couple of weeks ago, I got turned on to more serious couponing. I have always tried to be as efficient as I can, and take advantage of what looks good, but haven't been that consistent. Steph and Amy referred me to SouthernSavers.com where I have been finding some fun deals. However, I did go to Kroger twice this week already, and spent $85 the first time and $60 the second time, and then went to H-mart and spent another $31. But I am reminding myself that this is for groceries for the next 2 weeks, and it included some things like diapers and paper towels--those add up. I shouldn't have to buy anything except for more milk and probably some more tortillas until almost August. I also did save about $50 in coupons and sales, so I think it's OK.

That being said, I have a whole menu plan for the next 2 weeks:
Monday: Rotisserie chicken, salad, bread
Tuesday: Chicken enchiladas, fruit
Wednesday: Steak salad, bread
Thursday: Hamburgers, cole slaw
Friday: Chicken Divan, bread
Saturday: Hot dogs, corn casserole
Sunday: Beans & rice & meat, fruit
Monday: Chicken sandwiches, veggies
Tuesday: Scalloped Potatoes w/ ham, veggies
Wednesday: Arroz con pollo, fruit
Thursday: Mahi mahi, veggies, pasta
Friday: Shepherds Pie, veggies
Saturday: Stir fry w/ tofu, meat, veggies
Sunday: Spaghetti, veggies

If I were really smart, I'd double and freeze some of these things for other times. But I'm not that smart. Maybe next time. We also have stuff for sandwiches, mac & cheese, and other odds and ends for lunches and breakfasts.

Sam is still looking for work. We have gotten a couple of leads from friends, and we're praying that something comes up. Something good. Something close. Something that gives us insurance. Something that gives Sam a sense of having a purposeful career.

If nothing comes up, I'll have to start looking for work, and Sam can be a stay at home dad.

The heart.

It hasn't been a super easy week. I've been exasperated, short-tempered, snappy, mean, overwhelmed, and generally miserable. This did not serve to make the house peaceful. I should probably just leave it at that, lest I complain. But don't worry, I'm better now.

For several days I had a terrible pattern of being awake way too late, and then in the morning being awakened by Lizzie's voice (sometimes cheerful, sometimes not so much). This meant that I "didn't have time" for a quiet time. That of course started those days with me in a bad mood, thinking about how behind I already was, and how I would never be able to make up for it. And I dug myself deeper into the pit of despair when instead of honestly asking for help, I whined to Sam about how unfair it was that I had to do "everything," and implied in every way possible that it was somehow all his fault that things weren't going my way. Interestingly, that is not the way to encourage someone else jump in cheerfully to lend a hand; rather, they're more likely to avoid you so as not to hear more venomous complaints. Trust me on this.

This is on the heels of reading through the entire book of "Practicing the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence, and watching an awesome message from Beth Moore in our Believing God study on Sunday afternoon. In retrospect, it seems like the viciousness of the feelings I was having were a direct attack of the enemy--trying to steal any seeds of truth from actually penetrating my heart in a way that would wake me from my spiritual stupor. As the recently popular song says, "I don't want to be sleeping while the battle is raging."

Yesterday on my way to and from Kroger and the H-mart, I popped in the cd of the message from Sunday, about the way that God meets our needs when we ask, seek, and knock. He knows where we are, and wants us to need Him and wants us to ask when we need Him. Why do we have needs? So he can meet us in our needs. Why can I not do everything on my own? Because I need Him to be my strength and my wisdom.

This morning I was able to break out of the downward spiral by getting up (even after we didn't go to bed until after midnight) and having my quiet time. I got up before 7, which never happens. And I made breakfast, voluntarily, for all 3 of us, and was cheerful. And Lizzie and I went out, and I sang along with the radio. And I didn't complain to my friends about how awful my lot is right now. Because it is not awful. It is just part of my process.

I am not who I've been convincing myself that I am. I am who God says I am. 2nd Corinthians 3 says that I am "competent" as a "minister" by the Spirit, not the letter of the law. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life. Based on the meaning of those words, I am also "sufficiently equipped" to be a "waiter, serving food and drink" by the Spirit of God. I don't know what that might do for anyone else, but I think that just changed my whole perspective as of today. Most days I feel like that's all I am: a waiter, serving food and drink, constantly. And I don't even get tips. But if I am able to do so with the help of the Holy Spirit, then I have the opportunity to serve in faith, and produce life.

I want to have the perspective that goes beyond just the next 15 minutes, and into the next 15 years. Lord willing, into the next 15 generations. Simply doing something because it has to be done has no element of faith nor any enduring value. But doing it in faith, in love, in expectant hope, as unto God, it has the potential to affect more than just the here and now.

All things...

While driving on Sunday evening, on the way to the 3rd week of our Believing God Bible study, I was reminded of this verse:

"All things are permissible, but not all things are beneficial."

I had not thought of it nor read it in a long time, so it had to be the Holy Spirit who dropped it into my mind. Honestly, I don't know exactly where it is, but I feel like it's in one of the Corinthian letters, since Paul was talking to some pretty fleshly people (you know, like me and many of us). And I was in the middle of some sort of lively complaint about how thoughtless some people I live with can be, and how sorry I am for myself. Poor me, I just try to do all the things that have to be done, and no one cares. Suddenly this sentence came to me, and I was convicted. I couldn't get it out of my head, either. I have been meditating on it for a couple of days now, and I am believing it is affecting my thinking.

All things are permissible.

It means there's no condemnation for anything I do. It means there is freedom in Christ. It means I can do anything, go anywhere, eat anything, drink anything, listen to anything, watch anything, use my time and resources in any way, practice my faith in any way. I am allowed. It means I don't have to let anyone else judge me--or let their judgment of me have any effect, at least.

But not all things are beneficial.

I am allowed to goof off on the computer, but is it beneficial? I am allowed to stay up until 1 AM reading my library book, but is it beneficial? I am allowed to eat cupcakes for breakfast, but is it beneficial? I have been asking myself if something is beneficial quite a lot lately. And there are many variations on that question: Beneficial to whom? Is it the most beneficial? Is it beneficial to my spiritual development?

May my decisions be based more often on what is beneficial, not on what is permissible.

Camp of Champions Changed my Life

Next week my brother is borrowing our Suburban to transport youth from our church to Mississippi for Camp of Champions. As I was pulling the miscellaneous baby paraphernalia that had landed there over the past several months, I got thinking about the drive to and from, and about the weeks I've spent there, and about the many ways the event has impacted my life and the lives of hundreds of others. I let myself remember the giddy feeling of preparing for camp. What will it be like this year? What will God do? Who will be there?

COC was founded 21 (right?) years ago, with a couple dozen youth. Now registration is maxed out at 130, on a first come, first served basis. And that is only at one campus; there are COC TX and COC Lincoln (in Costa Rica). There has been talk over the years of a COC OH and COC PA and who knows how many others in recent years now that I have been out of the direct COC loop.

The first COC I attended was in 1997. I was 16. My family had just moved to Atlanta, and we had left all our friends up north. We started attending our church in May, and the youth group was going to camp in June. There I learned that I could make some awesome friends so I wouldn't have to be homesick. I also enjoyed a depth of the presence of God that I had never known. I had experienced moments in various meetings or encounters on my own with Him before, but there in southern Mississippi, the taste of the reality of God's nearness and goodness and His purpose for my life has affected me ever since. Worship became a joyful expression of gratitude and awe. Prayer was a conversation. The Bible had words in it that could pierce my very soul, bringing revelation and comfort. Unity in a community of believers was manifest. Purpose and passion for the things of God were lived out in the examples of the counselors and staff. My heart grasped hold of this hope: A life of faith that has reality in it is possible. And it could be my life.

The format is simple enough: junior high and high school students (and those going into college) are divided into teams with a captain and co-captain. There is almost a mathematical equation to the way the teams are constructed--from different churches, at different ages, and different athletic skill. Kids come from all around the region, most of them from a group of churches loosely connected through their pastoral leadership. During the week that team competes in sports, team skits, a talent show, memory verse quotation, and completion of tasks like cleaning the dorms or sports fields. Points are awarded or deducted, and the winning team goes home with a trophy. Every morning high value is placed on 30 minutes of quiet time, "one-on-one with Jesus," then followed by breakfast (along with announcements, cheers, and the typical camp counselor silliness) then a short chapel service and sports. Then lunch, more sports, and free time. Showering had never been so coveted as during free time when we could clean up and rest in the cool dorms. After that, we'd gather for supper, do our daily team clean-up project, and go to the evening chapel service. That is when the fire fell. We prayed, sang, listened, wept, and rejoiced; so many of us--campers and staff alike--were broken, delivered, saved, renewed, and challenged.

That first year, we drove home in a thunderstorm, and for the first time since early childhood I was so captivated by the majesty of rain and lightening. I was so grateful for air conditioning in that van. I was challenged by the driver's reflections on the week and what he saw in those of us who were riding home with him and his wife. I saw Atlanta's huge, sparkling skyline for the first time when we drove through at night. All of it was seen through eyes that had been given new lenses, with appreciation for the beauty and creativity of the world around me, of the life I had been given to live. I was so excited and peaceful at the same time.

Over the years, I attended at least 15 camps. Maybe 16, but I can't remember. However many, I have all but one of the t-shirts to prove it. I attended as a camper for 3 years, and as a staff member for the remaining 9. I was baptized in the lake where we had sea weed fights during the "Octathalon." While pacing the asphalt around midnight in front of the Bluebird Chapel, and after years of frustration and doubt regarding it, I finally received my prayer language. In the poor, dusty neighborhoods of Uvalde, TX, I got over my fear of offering prayer to someone whose eyes are filled with tears because of the kindness of a group of kids. I have made friends who are as close as family, and with whom I would be honored to call friends for the rest of my life. I met my husband while I was in Texas, meeting up with a group of some of those friends I had met and served beside at camp. Two years ago at the last camp I attended outside of San Antonio, Texas, God gave me Lizzie's middle name, Hosanna. I guess I should have known she would be a girl.

Many years ago, when "making the camp video" was a running joke among those of us in the greater camp community, there have been several celebrities who have been coerced to say on camera, "Camp of Champions changed my life!" so that they could be inserted into the annual camp highlights video. Those people never actually attended, but it was always fun to get them to make a cameo appearance from some dark backstage room, saying that their lives were changed. But in all honesty, had I not been given the opportunity to attend these events, my life would not have been the same.

The Urgency of Purity

What is David asking God to do?

Oh Lord, I am calling to you.
Please hurry!
Listen when I call to you for help!
Accept my prayer....
Take control of what I say, O Lord, and guard my lips.
Don't let me drift toward evil or take part in acts of wickedness.
Don't let me share in the delicacies of those who do wrong.
Let the godly strike me!
It will be a kindess!
If they correct me, it is soothing medicine.
Don't let me refuse it.
Psalm 141:1-5 (NLT)

There is an urgency to his prayer, but it's not just "save my life and kill my enemies!" David's prayer is to be pure, to live uprightly, to walk with integrity. And it's not an aside, it is the most urgent prayer of his life at this moment.

He recognizes the importance of the "sharpening iron" of the godly, and though it be painful, it is more desirable to be corrected, and to remain teachable, than to go on without guidance or rebuke if necessary.

May I remember that it's not really my circumstances that require intense prayer--it is my heart that requires this attention if I am truly going to follow Jesus.

Be Ready

I read this morning in my copy of 'The Daily Light' devotional these two verses, and they struck me in a way that I had never really thought of them before. I wanted to share it somewhere.

Luke 21:34 - Take heed to yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness, and cares of this life, and that Day come on you unexpectedly.

What I noticed there is that "the cares of this life" is in there among carousing and drunkenness. All are distractions from where our focus must be - on the mission the Lord gave us, (the great commission), and serving Him. The rest of this passage goes on to say, "pray always that you may be counted worth to escape all these things that will come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man." In other words, to not be ashamed of our lack of attention to what Jesus is doing and when He is coming.

Then another verse in this devotional is in 1 Thess 5, somewhere between v. 2 and 5 - "The day of the Lord so comes as a thief in the night. For when they say, 'Peace and safety!' then sudden destruction comes upon them, as labor pains upon a pregnant woman."

If we are not prepared for the "day or the hour in which the Son of Man is coming" it would be like a pregnant woman going on with her normal life, as though she were not pregnant. Just caring about herself, just carrying on with 'business as usual' without making any preparation for a baby to come.

In the same way, while a pregnant woman does not know the time that she will go into labor, she can't say she didn't know that the labor pains would come. She can get a pretty good idea that there is a due time for them to start, though the exact time is not predictable. The point is, the labor pains are inevitable. But they herald a great event coming!

The thing that I found the Holy Spirit saying to me as I read this was to remember that the end of all things is certain, and is sure, and it will come. But it is a good thing, in the end, ushering in the fulness of the Kingdom of God, on earth as it is in heaven!

May I live caring more for the things of eternity than for the things "of this life" and may the things that I do in this life be holy unto the Lord.

1 Thess 5:6 "But you are not in darkness, so that this day should overtake you as a thief. You are all sons of light and sons of the day. We are not of the night nor of darkness. Therefore let us not sleep, as others do, but let us watch and be sober."