To The Owners of All Public Establishments

I am NOT a germophobe. But there are certain things just give me the willies.

• Roaches in my house (well in my food, too).

• Wet water (that’s water you step in while wearing socks).

• Getting served fish heads for dinner (ok, so that happened like ONCE in my life – obviously I have a hard time letting things go).

• Having to touch a bathroom handle after washing my hands and knowing that there’s a good chance that someone before me DID NOT wash their hands before touching that same handle.

Think about it.

EEEEWWWWW!

Thanks to Matt Lauer I have learned to always take an extra towel after washing my hands and place that towel between the offending handle and my now clean hands.

Here’s where you come in, owners-of-all-public-establishments:

If you refuse to have a trash can some where near the door I will drop that towel on the floor.

Deal with it.

Or get a trash can near the door.

Or get a door that can be pushed open without have to touch a handle.

Ok?

I Realized Something This Morning

I am really angry with God.

Really.

And maybe it’s misplaced and maybe it’s wrong, but it’s real.

Really real.

And it’s not like I’m blaming God for my singleness or my lack of wealth, the war in Iraq, the cost of postage stamps or Chuck not returning until January. It’s very specific. And until today, I didn’t realize how much I was allowing that anger to affect my relationship with Him.

Really affect it.

I was still praying – but they weren’t sincere. I kinda read my bible. But other than this past Saturday, my times with Him were stilted… forced and overall blah.

Really.

And it’s my fault – the anger, the frustration, the wall I’ve started to build between Him and me. But He didn’t answer a prayer the way I wanted, or the way I thought He should or when or how I thought He should. Gosh – could I sound any more like a petulant child throwing a tantrum?

Or maybe He did. Maybe it’s the timing, the length of time or WHATEVER, but the truth of the matter, regardless of it being right or wrong, I am really angry…

With God?

With me?

With the situation?

I think God’s ok with me being angry at Him. I know He can handle it. He knows the reality. He knows the truth. He knows my heart. And He knows that somewhere in South Carolina is a girl whose heart is still aching and who needs her Daddy to love her in spite of her anger. He knows that each day it gets better.

Really.

I Yearn For Blind Devotion

"I yearn for blind devotion - unthinking, unwavering - a cause, a thing, a principle worthy of absolute loyalty. A truth self-medicating, a love unabating, something - anything - to which I relinquish all personal responsibility. Semper Fi, 'Til Death Do Us Part,' In Nomine Patris, Let's Go Mets. To the true believers, the lucky few, of thee I sing."

Mary Shannon, In Plain Sight

What am I devoted to?

I certainly know who (that would be God) but WHAT?

What cause?

What thing?

What principle is worthy of my absolute loyalty?

Is there anything I feel that strongly about? Or do my fears keep rooted firmly in mediocrity?

I read a blog recently by one of my favorite bloggers, Anne Jackson. Her question, "What is the biggest dream in your heart?" Well that just flat out terrified me. My biggest dream is so big that I refuse to even think about it. Seriously. I’ve never even told anyone.

No one.

Not Jen, Jamie, Lisa or Amanda. And if the 4 of them ever got together, they’d pretty much know EVERYTHING about me.

Except this.

The mere thought that this dream, as big as it is, as terrifying as it is, could actually be from God – well that just causes me to shut down. Is that dream worthy of my blind devotion? Is it something I’d be willing to relinquish all personal responsibility?

Absolutely.

YIKES!

What are your biggest dreams, my friends? Are they big enough to scare you? Are they worthy of your absolute loyalty?

(I apologize for the seriousness of all of this. But it’s Thursday. And it’s been 4 weeks. And for that reason alone, today is serious. And now I have all these extra thoughts to unpack. But that’s ok. Because it is Thursday. And Amanda, tonight at 7:30 I’m going to do what you suggested.)

I Steal Pens

I have a confession.

I steal pens.

No, I’m not talking those cheap BIC pens that the entire world seems to have a million of in their home yet no one seems to ever remember buying them. And I’m not talking expensive Mon Blanc one’s either (now THAT would be a sin!!). I’m talking NICE, every day pens or unusual ones, or ones that write nice or whatever. Pens. Just pens.

My latest acquisition is a Pentel HyperG 07, black. I lifted it from my boss. It was sitting back on our kitchen table, I picked it up, doodled on the napkin it was next to, and I knew, I KNEW I had to have it.

It was like the first time I saw the bootleg copy of a Bay City Rollers album FROM ENGLAND in that funky record store in East Hills – I had to have it. (NO! I did NOT steal the album… I begged and BEGGED my mom for it.)

Yeah just like that.

Even as I type this, I’m staring at a Pilot P-500 Extra Fine, blue, that I lifted from my friend Lisa’s house (I told her about that one and she GRACIOUSLY gave me another when I whinned about how the ink was running low).

And somewhere on my desk is a red pen that my roomie loaned me to read (and correct) a paper she was working on. I gave back the paper; I still have the pen.

I even once stole a pen from a waitress at Outback. But that was because it had Jim Stewart’s name on it and I worked for Ritchie Skipper. The waitress called me on it. I apologized. Left her one of those cheap Bic pens (seriously WHO buys those things and why are there so many of them in the world) and tossed the Jim Stewart pen in the trash as soon as I walked outside.

I do, however, have rules:

The pens MUST be owned by someone. Not necessarily someone I know, just someone. I don’t steal pens from a store or anything. (Well there was that one that I found sitting on the shelf next to the coffee in Walmart. CLEARLY with someone’s shopping list… I did take that one home. But only after I did my shopping and went back and it was STILL there. It was a BIC Mark-it Fine Point Permanent Marker – TUXEDO BLACK afterall!!)

They must write well. I mean, seriously, what is the use of taking a cheap pen?

If the owner of the pen will get totally annoyed over losing the pen… oh yeah, that pen is MINE!

I keep the pen until it totally dies. And even then, I tend to keep them. I have this box in the bottom of my desk at home filled with pens (and a few pencils) that I’ve lifted over the years.

And if I can blame it on someone else – all the better. I had my entire office convinced that someone else in that office stole all the pens. And, technically, she did take most of them. But again, they were those DARN cheap ones. I only lifted the cool ones.

Oh yeah, I steal pens.

“Don’t Worry Miss, I’ll Save Your Bunny!”

I don’t exactly live in the hicks. I live about 30 minutes outside of a semi-large metropolitan area about ½ a mile from a HUGE lake. It’s a fairly well developed area, even if we don’t have a Moe’s or Starbucks. But I certainly wouldn’t call it the hicks.

Ok, so maybe I did come face-to-face with a deer on Christmas Day 2008 as I walked Lucy (my dog) early in the morning.


And maybe we did nearly trip over a fox one morning as it darted out in front of us.

But really, I don’t live in the hicks.

This evening, however, as I took Lucy for a walk I began to doubt that. We had just crossed the little bridge over the little stream next to my house and I was trying to snap Lucy’s leash on when out of nowhere a tiny little bunny went hoping between Lucy’s legs then between my legs. Before either of us had a chance to react a cat went darting the same way.

That’s when Lucy took off.

Then that’s when I took off. And there we all went, running down the middle of my street.

Bunny. Cat. Lucy. Me.

Now thankfully Lucy’s getting old, so catching her was no big deal. And just as I snapped her leash on, I heard an AWFUL noise.

Horrible.

And I looked up and the cat had the bunny in its mouth.

So I did what any normal “I’d-choose-a-cute-bunny-over-a-cat-any-day” person would do – I took Lucy’s leash off and told her to go get the cat.

And she did. (I was so proud of my girl!)

I caught up to Lucy and the cat went darting off in the opposite direction.

And the bunny? It went hopping down the street as far away from the madness as it could get toward the woods and away from civilization.

Suddenly my neighbor came running out of his house yelling, “Don’t worry Miss, I’ll save your bunny!”

My hero.

If I wasn't such a white girl

A couple of years ago I read a book (I believe it was by Beth Moore called Get Out Of That Pit) and in it the author encourages us to take time to really, REALLY confess our sins. Not just the “forgive me Father for I have sinned” sort of confession, but really REALLY taking a dedicated time – on your face – just pure, pure confession.

Everything.

Even the sins you think He doesn’t see.

And to you all, I will confess, that though I tried to have one of those experiences, I don’t know, it just didn’t happen for me. It certainly wasn’t like I didn’t have sins to confess, good heavens, quite the opposite! But… I don’t know… Certainly I confess my sins, but to have one of those purely cleansing moments, where afterward you feel nearly giddy and light and

Clean

Yeah that’s it.

Saturday, I had one of those experiences. I knew I had unconfessed sins in my life. I had been struggling with them for a time and I was at the point of just not caring. It was easier to wallow in the sin than it was to confess them. Because, after all, I knew that it was those sins that kept God from blessing me, knew that God was punishing me for my sins. I felt unworthy, unlovable, unclean. And I felt like there was nothing I could do about it. Right?

Dang, Satan’s good, huh?

Saturday morning I talked with a good friend. He was telling me about a conversation he was going to have with a mutual friend that day. I knew I needed to pray for that conversation and for that friend. But I couldn’t. I hadn’t been able to really pray for that friend for weeks. And I realized it had nothing to do with that friend, it had everything to do with me. (This is one time when it truly is all about me.)

So I hung up the phone and fell to my knees. There were moments when I didn’t think I could get out what I wanted to say to God fast enough. And there were moments when all I could do was just cry out. Cry out for His forgiveness. Cry out for His mercy. Cry out for His grace.

And it happened.

I felt giddy. I don’t mean that “holy laughter” type of giddiness. Just purely giddy from experiencing His forgiveness.

I felt light. I felt like I had taken off this enormous amount of weight off my shoulders and out of my heart. If I wasn’t such a white girl, I would have danced.

I felt clean.

And I was.

And I could finally, FINALLY pray for that friend. And mean it. From my heart really, REALLY mean it.

I know, and I try to, daily confess my sins. But I also realize that there are times in my life where that isn’t enough. That sometimes I need to get on my knees and with a heart so humbled and so broken that all I can do is cry out.

And let Him take care of the rest.

A Little Of This & A Little Of That

These are some of the cool things that I came upon or that happened this week. Totally random stuff. But kinda cool none-the-less.

I wrote a post earlier this week on a review I did on a book called, Mad Church Disease. The author, Anne Jackson, posted a comment on my blog! (Let me put this in perspective for y’all – to me, that’s like Kris Allen from American Idol calling everyone who voted for him and saying, “Thanks.”)

I read, what is possibly going to be my favorite new phrase, on a blog called, Stuff Christians Like by Jon Acuff, “He unpacked the thought further and said…” I LOVE THAT. Unpacking thoughts. HOW COOL! (I think my friend Jen Allcroft turned me on to that blog – THANK YOU JEN!!)

And I got the following in the mail. It was just junk mail and normally it wouldn’t even make it to the kitchen counter (the keeping place of all things mailed), but this piece… well it was priceless

Enough said.

It's Thursday

I’ve been avoiding writing today’s blog for many reasons - none of which are even remotely logical or anything. It’s all totally emotional (hey – I’m a girl, deal with it!).

Today marks 3 weeks. And in some way it’s as hard today as it was 3 weeks ago.

Saturday I got a sweet, SWEET card in the mail (snail mail – I LOVE SNAIL MAIL!) from an even sweeter friend. And I will confess – I skimmed the card once, bawled like a baby, tucked it in my purse and have been avoiding it (and the friend).

Until today.

Because it’s Thursday.

And it’s been 3 weeks.

And today, I needed to feel it all and cry again.

So I am.

And at some point I’m going to have to deal with all the pain and all the emotions, but for now, I’m not. And that’s the naked, honest truth. I’m not dealing with it. And because of the situation, I’m not sure if I’ll ever really get to write about it. But those who need to know, know. Those who need to comfort, comfort (and in a amazing way). And those who need to be missed, are missed greatly.

Because it’s Thursday.

And it’s been 3 weeks.

(And to that sweet friend, thank you. I have read that card and those verses several times today. You have no idea how much they have touched me. I love you.)

Hello, I'm a Mac.

The other night my friend Lisa and I were talking online about whatever it is that single adult woman talk about when they don’t have a single adult man in their lives. We were on Facebook (and who isn’t these days) and I realized that our friend, Tommy Head, was online.

Now most of you out there are saying, “woo” but what many of you may not realize is that Tommy Head died nearly a month ago. So THead being online was… well… creepy.

Really creepy.

And although logic told me that it wasn’t REALLY THead (most likely it was his wife, Angela), this didn’t stop me from asking Lisa, “So, do you think they have wireless in heaven?”

From there, our conversation went kinda downhill.

And then we landed on, “So is God a Mac or a PC?” We both agreed that God would be a Mac – because God, after all, is the epitome of cool, hip and all that. The vision of God ruling the world, organizing prayer requests, playing the occasional game or 2, Googling stuff, all on His MacBook Pro (it would have to be a laptop because… well… God IS omnipresent!) is humorous and yes, a bit sacrilege. (And no, TECHNICALLY God would not need to Google ANYTHING because He already knows.)

Sorry all you die-hard PC’s out there. I feel your pain. But it’s true. The God of our Universe would be a Mac.

Me?

I’m a PC.

Are You Mad?

I ventured into the whole world of blogging because my friend, Jamie, told me about someone she heard speak at Catalyst 2008. Her name is Anne Jackson and she wrote a book called “Mad Church Disease” about overcoming the burnout epidemic, specifically the burnout epidemic in church and full-time ministry. I read her blog, a sample chapter of her book and thought, “Oh my stars, here is someone who KNOWS me!”

So I started following her blog and reading some of her older posts and I read a post titled, “Attend Catalyst For Free!” Well after all of the great and WONDERFUL things I heard about the 2008 conference, I thought, SIGN ME UP!! So I followed the instructions on what to do (which entailed emailing someone who works for her publisher) and OH YEAH – I am a Dork (and yes, that is with a capital D!). Ya see… it was an OLD post and it was for the 2008 conference… and well… yeah… ok… Dork.

BUT the nice person at Zondervan asked if they sent me a FREE copy of the book (which had just been released) would I read it and post a review on Amazon.com. Well… let me think about it… YES!!!

So they sent it.

I read it.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t write the review. Nearly every single part of that book SCREAMED to me. It was as if Anne lived my life and was writing about it. The details were different, but the experiences were the same. The burnout was the same. The guilt, the shame, the despair, all of it – Anne Jackson wrote a book just for me.

So, without further adieu, here is the review I had promised to write a few months ago. If you have EVER worked either as a volunteer or in a paid position for any sort of ministry (church and non-church) read this book.

And Jeanne, if you’re reading this – I’m sending you my copy this week.

Mad Church Disease: Overcoming the Burnout Epidemic is more than a book about Anne Jackson’s experience with her own struggles and it’s more than a book about how to deal with burnout, it was, for me, a realization that what I went through, all my experiences, all my tears, were not just because I wasn’t good enough.

My experiences in full-time ministry weren’t unique, NOR were they awful. I was an imperfect person working for imperfect people and I failed them as much as they failed me. This book helped me realize that and it helped me forgive myself for all my short-comings.

I think anyone, be it a volunteer or paid staff who is working in ministry should be given a copy of this book on their 1st day or right away. It should be required reading at every Christian school, every missions agency and every church.

If possible I would give this book to every friend I have and nigh and unto demand that they read it. For now I’ll settle for blogging about it, talking about it and FINALLY dealing with it.

Gloves, Shoes and a Christmas Sweater

I am a list maker.

I’m not OCD about it or anything, it just helps keep me on task. Otherwise I wander around doing useless things or come home from the store with 10 boxes of cake mix and nothing to eat for dinner (hey –they were 10 for $10!!).

I always put little boxes in front of each item, but once they are completed I cross them off with a vengeance!

My list for this weekend included, “Clean closet.” Now I’m not the neatest person in the world, however, I’m not the messiest person either. But for the last few weeks my closet has driven me to the brink. And, for the last week I’ve just avoided it all together.

That’s bad.

So this weekend I was going to tackle my closet. And initially when I thought about making that the topic of this post I was going to just talk about my silly list making and my messy closet and for some inane reason I thought anyone who reads this would be interested in seeing my closet. So I grabbed my camera, took some stuff out so it didn’t look TOO messy and snapped a picture.

Really bad, isn’t it?

There are the winter gloves that have been in that very spot for just over 2 months.

The pile of stuff that was to go to Belize in June, which I just don’t have the emotional energy to do anything with… sigh…

A Christmas sweater that should be put someplace else.

And the shoes – I literally had to walk past the rack they go on in order leave them on the spot they are now.

My mom would be so disappointed.

Ok, but did anyone catch what I said? I “took some stuff out so it didn’t look TOO messy.”

Over the last few days I’ve had folks comment to me about my blog (cracks me up that folks read it) about how open, honest and vulnerable I am in it. But the truth is I clean out the closet of my life, too, before I toss it out in the world for all to see (all 3 of ya).

Because if y’all really knew what was in there… well I don’t even want to begin to think what y'all would do or think.

But I can’t hide what’s in my closet from God. He knows about every pair of gloves, every shoe, and every Christmas sweater. He even knows about the pile of stuff to go to Belize, and how even as I type this I’m crying, and how I still am having a hard time putting that pile away

I can’t hide anything from God. And as much as I’d like to and as often as I try, I know it’s best for me if I don’t. God loves me in spite of the messiness that’s in my closet. He loves me regardless of how many pairs of gloves are left on the floor. He especially loves me as I deal with that Belize pile.

Storyville and Northland await my friends. I pray you have a worshipful day.

Now THAT'S a Good Cup of Coffee!!

In a few moments I will venture into unchartered territory. I am a tried and true a-little-bit-of-coffee-with-my-artificial-sweetener-and-sugar-free-powdered- creamer girl. But in a little while, I’m going to have my very first cup of French pressed coffee… black.

I have all my ducks in a row… newly purchased Burr grinder, newly purchased Brazilian French press, and recently received Storyville coffee beans. (Turns out, when I try something new, I jump in with both feet.) I have watched the DVD that accompanies the beans, all the accoutrements are laid out on my counter, my bottled water is heating (no tap water for this girl!), my press and mug are warming, and my beans are waiting to be ground.

I AM BECOMING A COFFEE SNOB!

But, y’all, one sniff of Storyville, and OH MY STARS! It’s hands down, the most perfect smell in the world. It beats out puppy breath, a freshly powdered baby and newly cut grass, hands down. The beans were just roasted on May 5^th, shipped to me and when I got my 1^st whiff – I thought surely I had died and gone to heaven.

I have been anticipating this moment for a week. And yes, I could have experienced this on an ordinary Monday through Friday, but for some reason I needed to make this 1^st experience something special. My bible and journal are waiting in my favorite chair and in a few moments… oh wait - my water is about to boil and I need to grind the beans… I’ll finish this in a bit.

WOW!

OH MY STARS!!

Sweet mystery of life at last you found me!!

I honestly am not exaggerating when I say that the founders of Storyville should be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize (how does that work I wonder? Does some insignificant blogger in South Carolina say it and suddenly it happens?? Sorry – I digress...)

I had no idea coffee could be so good. And if doing this ritual makes me a coffee snob, then so bit it!

Yeah… this is good stuff.

Huh… here’s a thought (hang with me for just a moment) – I became a Christian when I was 5. Pretty much all I remember is my mom crying when my brother and I came home from Vacation Bible School and told her. I certainly don’t remember having experienced any euphoria or joy (though I’m sure it was there). And I certainly don’t remember that urge to run out and tell everyone one I know, “Kids, throw down your Babies, I’ve just found Jesus!!”

After my 1^st sip of Storyville my thoughts were (after WOW!!), “I can’t wait to tell Lisa!” “I’ve got to get Greg some of this for his birthday!!” “I need to RT to Vernon and tell him THANKS!!”

I’m fixin’ to do my quiet time and today I’m going to be reading/meditating/journaling on Luke 11:14-23. How many people will I want to rush out and shout, “Guess what I just learned about Jesus!”?

Storyville is great.

Jesus is greater.

Storyville will save me from a bad cup of coffee made with stale beans.

Jesus will save me from hell.

Storyville will satisfy my needs for a good cup of coffee.

Jesus will satisfy my needs for everything… always… forever.

Which of these things should I be talking about most?

I’m going to enjoy this cup of coffee like no one’s business. I’m going to savor my time with God.

Y’all have a good day.

I saved an earthworm

I know - right??!!??

An earthworm… ME! I picked it up WITH MY VERY OWN FINGERS and flung into the grass. Well now that I’m reading that, maybe the flinging part wasn’t all that great – but my intentions were good! So now instead of inching along the pavement that was rough and hard and not very pretty and where surely it was going to get smushed, it could now do what it does best (and I have no idea what that is).

So here’s my wondering for today: am I inching along the pavement waiting to get smushed OR do I need to get flung into the grass where God can use me best? (My theology may be a bit off here, but you get what I’m saying, right?) Maybe the pavement is where God wants me right now? Maybe He’s using the rough pavement to smooth me out. Or is getting smushed God’s way of gently disciplining me and making me into the woman He wants me to be? Am I content to hang out on the pavement never knowing the beauty of the tall grass? Or do I need to be flung into the soft grass?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. I know the earthworm was worming its way toward the grass, but is that what I’m doing? I hope so. I PRAY SO!

Where are you today, my friends? Are you inching along the pavement waiting to get smushed or are you enjoying the soft soil of God’s love and peace?

(Oh yeah, and I immediately went home and washed my hands… like 4 times…. Just in case, ya know.)

Todd Daily

(Or, “No Hope, Jordan Leigh & Rachel, there is no Todd Daily”)

I had been praying for something for nearly every day for 509 days. That’s a long time.

Some days, my prayers were so intense that I cried and other days I felt like I was just going through the motions. On most of those days I felt, quite honestly, like God wasn’t even listening to me. Because no matter how I prayed and no matter what I did, it just seemed like He was silent on the whole issue. And it wasn’t one of those, no not now silences, it was silent silent.

Not a word.

Not a single word.

And it’s amazing how you can start to totally doubt just about EVERYTHING when you feel like God isn’t listening to you. You begin to wonder if He’s hearing anything you say. Question everything. Trust nothing. Insecurities abound. Hopelessness flows freely.

Gosh it’s tough being me some days.

Then on day 497 (no I’m not that good – I use www.timeanddate.com/) I was driving some friends, John & Lisa Gotz, from Florence back to Columbia. They are missionaries in Belize and, good heavens if anyone’s going to be full of wisdom on all things God, surely seasoned missionaries are, right?! So I posed the question to them, “What do you do if you pray and pray and PRAY for something and it seems like God is ignoring your prayers?”

I figured I’d initially get the pat answer of God answers prayers in one of 3 ways, “No, yes and not now.” But you gotta trust me on this, there was silence from God (or so I thought). Not a single no, yes or even a not now. So I deflected that answer by showing off my God-knowledge and saying that I knew the 3-ways answer and it was none of those.

So after a few moment s of silence, during which I’m thinking, “THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD! “ John finally says, “Huh, I dunno.”

Excuse me??

Then, John asks, “Are you talking to Todd Daily about this?”

Todd Daily, WHO IS TODD DAILY? Will he have the answers to my questions? Does he know what God has in store for me and this situation? IS TODD DAILY SINGLE??

Turns out, I need to buy some new Q-Tips. What John actually said was, “Are you talking to God daily?”

Well DUH! Of course I was!! That’s part of the problem!! I’m talking to Him daily and He’s not talking back!

Then John so wisely says, “Well there ya go, Alice. God will answer, in His time. But maybe, just maybe, right now He’s enjoying this time with you. He’s enjoying this relationship you’re building with Him.”

Huh… well I hadn’t thought about that (that’s why they’re missionaries and I’m not). I guess my relationship with God outweighed my timing on an answer. Hearing that, accepting that and soaking that in made all the difference in the world. And it made getting the answer on day 509 a wee bit easier.

(Oh and FYI – there are about 7 Todd Daily’s on Facebook. I wonder if any of them are single…)

Shower, rinse, repeat

So I found a tick on me this morning. Yup a tick. My 1st one. GROSS!!!

I think it hopped on when I was out back with Lucy getting ready to roll the trash around to the front. The idea of it coming from anywhere else is enough to make me ill. I found it, made it go to tick hell (because surely there is no heaven for ticks) and took a shower.

Then another.

And another.

And if I weren’t running so late for work, I would have taken another.

I STILL feel gross and itchy and EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Is that how I feel when I sin? When I grieve the heart of the very One who died for me? Is the need to get that sin out of my life as urgent and necessary as the need to make sure that there was no way there was another tick on me?

Am I as anxious to live a clean, pure life for God as I am to walk out of my house clean and tick-free?

Now before you think my theology is all out of whack, I know and appreciate the fact that I just have to ask for forgiveness once and my sins are forgiven. Shower myself in God’s love and rinse away the sins. Repeat the next time I sin BUT that sin is gone, forgiven kaput.

Shower and rinse.

Welcome Back!

Ok so I’m going back to blogging (please hold your applause especially if you’re reading this at work – I don’t want to get anyone in trouble!).

Why the 3 month hiatus? Well I wish I could be all spiritual and stuff and say it has something to do with giving up being online for Lent or focusing on my walk and not my talk. But no, actually, it all has to do with being lazy, being bummed and being confused.

So if you’ve read my previous posts, you’ve probably surmised that I was going to Belize. And, I’m happy to report, that I went to Belize AND I made it back! Go me! The trip was amazing and wonderful and everything a missions trip should be (minus any gastrointestinal issues). I made some amazing contacts, spent oodles of time with wonderful friends, drank an insane amount of Coke Light and came home with a bit of sun and a lot of excitement over what God was going to do.

Fast forward 3 months. I’m still back from Belize and technically should be leaving again in 18 days. However, God is God and He had far better plans for me. I will admit, I have no idea what those plans are and on a near daily basis I have to remind myself that whatever it is He has in store for me is going to FAR EXCEED the last few months. For suffice it to say, I’m NOT going to Belize in 18 days.

And possibly not again this year.

But I dunno.

Can I stop now?

The reasons and all that STUFF are tough and there are several WISE people in my life working through all this with me and all involved. (It’s more them and not me – I’m just a casualty of it all.) ANYHOW, God is faithful and I am genuinely excited about what He’s going to do in the coming months.

I think I will stop now.

This is a picture of four men whom I admire greatly. Two of them have gone home to hang with our Lord; one extremely recently. All of them have impacted the Kingdom mightily. Posting their picture here is my insignificant way of honoring them each. Thank you Tommy, Andy, Wick and Greg for the sacrifices you’ve made and for the hearts you have that are dedicated to our Lord. Your lives and your walks are an inspiration to me.