Renee O.

Stained Glass Jesus

2012-01-24T22:11:00.001-05:00

I love stained glass. It ranks right up there with snowflakes. So when I got a new camera last year, I decided to play with it in my church's sanctuary. I've just now gotten around to tinkering with the photographs. I'll probably post a few more in the coming days.

This first picture is of Jesus after the resurrection, meeting up with some of His disciples on the road to Emmaus.

And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself. - Luke 24:27

I love the pierced hands and feet.

The menorah may seem like an odd choice to add to this post, considering the title, but I assure you it is not. The temple menorah was often referred to as the "light of the world." Indeed, the three lamps on either side pointed inward to the center lamp, called the chumash, or servant lamp. And the chumash pointed to the Holy of Holies. It is very much a symbol of the Messiah.

Connections to the Past

2012-01-18T23:46:00.000-05:00

I received a call tonight from my Granddaddy's favorite niece. Haven't seen her since my grandmother's funeral a few years ago. A distant relative sent her a five-inch binder crammed full of family genealogy, tracing our line back to Wales in the 1700s. She's fixing mistakes to the last three generations, name misspellings and such, and trying to compile photographs for those relatives who don't have one. Then she's going to send me a copy of it.

There've been so many times I wished I'd written down those little bits of information my grandfather told me, like that his grandmother was 75% cherokee, or that an ancestor served under George Washington. I can't wait to get my hands on that book. It feels like a small connection to him.

Homemade Microwave Popcorn

2012-01-13T21:32:00.000-05:00

I love popcorn, but I'm not fond of the chemicals that line the bags of store-bought microwave popcorn. So one evening I decided to try popping my own. The results were surprisingly easy, and delicious! So I'm going to pass on this little secret to the rest of you.

What you'll need:

-1 brown paper lunch bag
-Popcorn kernels (I like to use organic, because that's how I roll)
-1 tablespoon measure
-1 microwave in good working order
-1 large bowl
-Butter (optional)
-Salt (optional)

Directions:

Pour 2 or 3 tablespoons of popcorn kernels into your brown paper bag. Fold over the top of the bag (you could probably tape it closed, but I've never had it come open with a double fold). Place the bag in your microwave and cook it for 2 to 3 minutes, until you hear a delay of 3 to 5 seconds between pops. Take the bag out of the microwave (careful, the popcorn will be hot!), and dump the popcorn into a bowl. Repeat this process until you have the amount of popcorn you want.

To make buttered popcorn, melt one tablespoon (or more!) of butter for every two bags of popcorn that you pop. When you're finished popping your kernels, drizzle the melted butter over the popcorn, stirring to evenly distribute. Salt it, if desired. I use a popcorn salt, available in the same section as the large jars of popcorn kernels.

I love making popcorn this way. It tastes fresh and yummy. Your family doesn't consume all those chemicals in commercially-packaged bags and it's healthier and lighter-tasting than oil-popped. You don't need an air popper and and you can get as creative as you want.

Creative Ideas

1. Make popcorn balls! Allrecipes.com has a recipe for Old-Time Molasses popcorn balls here.

2. Make popcorn garland for your Christmas tree.

3. Get creative with your seasonings. Try garlic and herbs on your popcorn, or caramel.

Stash in my Nightstand, aka Glad to be Home

2012-01-12T15:24:00.001-05:00

I have an old nightstand that belonged to my great grandparents. It was a washstand in its previous life. Sometime in the middle of the twentieth century, it got booted to their back porch. In the 1980's, my grandmother rescued it and had it refinished, revealing stunning quartersawn oak, also known as tiger oak, beneath five or so layers of paint. Thankfully, the refinisher had some talent and refrained from using a high gloss finish coat like some mistakenly do on antiques. Instead, he gave it a nice soft finish that resembled a patina.

I've been using this washstand as my nightstand for the past 15 years. I cleaned it out the other day and found a couple old pairs of glasses, an old pocket calendar with once-memorable dates recorded, an ancient address book that possessed names of folks I used to know, some of whom I barely remember, a lint remover, book marks, two tubes of Burt's Bees lip balm, cough drops, and pictures my daughter has drawn for me on scrap paper (those I saved).

On the bottom shelf, behind the old baby monitor we no longer use, was stashed a small treasure trove of sermon notes written on old Christian Fellowship* (CF) church bulletins. The most recent was from 1999. As I pulled them out and thumbed through them, tears filled my eyes. That stack of papers represented so much more than just a collection of old sermons. That church had been my family. After four beautiful years, we moved away and were officially sent to their sister church NL (another name change), which ended up being too far from where we lived for us to participate in their ministry.

Tragically, a year after we were sent out, CF split. Yes, the building still stands and still bears the same name, but it's not the same body of believers. The flock scattered.

When I got word that CF had split, my heart broke. It took me a long time to admit that I was angry at the Lord. It took me even longer to realize that He had spared me the brunt of the blow by removing me gently from the midst before it was torn apart. Still, I found myself longing for home. A home that, I felt, no longer existed.

We attended a Messianic Jewish congregation for a time and learned some amazing things about the Hebrew roots of our Christian faith, but we soon discovered that the Messianic movement had an ugly side. It was full of individuals who had left protestant churches because they were offended. Sadly, divisiveness follows those who leave a church the wrong way out of offense. Hence, that little congregation lasted just a year after we joined, before many of the members left, as the division caught up with them and pushed them again out the doors. The rabbi and ribbetzin, discouraged because this was not the first time their congregation had split, decided not to rebuild it.

We moved to our current city seven and a half years ago, and have since attended several different churches. Though we disagreed with some theologically, nothing like that was ever insurmountable. It was the absence of the Holy Spirit's sweet presence and His healing power in their midst that left me cold. We wandered in this desert for six and a half years before the Lord pushed us in the direction of another church, which I will call RC. I say pushed in retrospect, because we stumbled into it quite by happenstance.

I was stunned that first Sunday. The Lord had much to say, and discouragement had left me tone deaf. Finally I was in front of a pastor who was, apparently, in tune with what the Lord was saying in my frequency and was willing to repeat it. But it was more than the sermon. It was the worship music, and the freedom that the worship team gave to the Holy Spirit in their midst. It was the prayer team that waited at the front after the service closed, ready to pray with and minister to those in need. It was congregation family member--a complete stranger--who looked at me and said, "welcome home."

I've recently started accumulating sermon notes again. RC actually provides transcripts of the previous week's sermon, which makes it much easier to read them later on than my silly scribblings sideways on a faded bulletin. But regardless of whether they were already typed out for me or not, these sermons are worth keeping. Much like CF, this church holds a precious and rare commodity for me: the palpable presence of the Holy Spirit, accompanied by granite Scriptural foundation and a passion to see God's people healed...emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

As I bagged all the items I no longer needed from my nightstand, I returned the small stash of sermon notes to their proper place on the bottom shelf, then added the new notes to the top of the stack.

It's so good to finally be home again.

*Church names have been truncated for privacy. Those who would need to know the name already do. For the rest of you, it doesn't matter.

Accent Doesn't Equal IQ

2012-01-11T00:00:00.000-05:00

So, I had my routine eye exam today. The optometrist’sassistant was a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, gorgeous Latinacomplexion, and an accent that I noticed immediately, maybe south Florida. She had me peer into three different machines that measured,graded and photographed my eyes, then took me to an exam room to wait for thedoctor. While keying information into the computer, she turned to me and, witha sheepish smile, asked, “So, where are you from?”

“Raleigh,” I said. (For those who don’t know, it’s thecapital of North Carolina and an hour and a half from where I now live.)

She tilted her headslightly, then said, “I mean originally.”

“Raleigh,” I said with a grin.

“Oh.” She frowned, and I could tell she was perplexed by myanswer.

“Why’s that? I don’t sound like I’m from around here?”

She shook her head. “No. Not really. Not at all.”

“Where do I sound like I’m from?”

“Uh, I thought you might be like, British, or Russian,maybe. Somewhere European.”

What? Really very much notwhat I was expecting to hear. Not only have I never heard that I soundinternational, but how do you confuse British and Russian? Or perhaps my accent is just that muddied. Ha!

Actually, I’ve gotten accent comments across the gamut. I’ve heard that Isound Midwestern or Californian. I have heard that I have a “cute Southerndrawl,” (usually by folks who live at a much higher latitude than my currentlocation). Even people from my home state sometimes think I hail from elsewherewhen they hear me talk, usually saying that I have no accent at all—not theirs,and not anyone else’s. My friend Julie once said it’s because I annunciate mywords more clearly than most people “around here” do.

My theory is that my accent can be traced to my Raleighiteroots. I am a native Raleighite, actually,and a multi-generational one, at that—which is an increasingly rare thing inthe heart of North Carolina, considering the mass influx of relocating techies we’veexperienced over the past thirty years or so. Perhaps there are so few of usleft that folks don’t remember what Raleighites sound like. Or perhaps my voicehas become its own thing. I don’t know.

I told the optometrist’s assistant that I sometimes get that"not from around here" comment. She said, “Well, that’s notnecessarily a bad thing.”

Hmm. I pondered that, then responded. “Yes, unfortunately, folkstend to hear a Southern drawl and assign a downgraded IQ accordingly.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’m from Miami,” she said, “and when Iwas back there, every time we heard a person from the South, we’d say, ‘Oh,that poor dumb—” she caught herself and amended the quote, “Southerner.’” She keyed something else into the computer, then turned backto me and said, “But after moving here, I’ve come to realize that’s not true atall.”

I once met a guy from Michigan who thought I was pretty butcould hear the South in my voice, and he did exactly what her friends in Miamidid—assigned me a lower IQ. I was a geology major at the time, so he bought me twoof those silly cardstock souvenir boards like you’d find in any tourist trap, onewith little tumbled¹ rock specimens glued to it, and another withlittle fossils. He presented them to me with glee, saying, “These are minerals.Do you know what minerals are?”

Kids learn what amineral is in middle school Earth Science class. I’d been a geology major incollege for two years. That’s like asking a math major if they know what a plussign is.

Not only did I know what the poor polished minerals on the cardboard were, but I knew the hardness, luster, streak, color, and cleavage. Plus, I was currently studying the closest packing of their crystal structures. Did I say any of this to Mr. Condescension? Of course not. I gave him a good helping of Southern hospitality instead, thanked him graciously for the generous gift and allowed him to continue in his ignorance, while carefully explaining that I wasn't interested in a romantic relationship with someone so different from myself.

I used to cringe when people asked me where I’m from. Did I sound Southern? And if so, did they think Southern equals stupid?

I’ve since grown comfortable with my roots. If I soundSouthern, I’m okay with that. If I sound like I’m from Europe, I’ll get a goodlaugh out of it and ponder for about five minutes whether I've been watching too much BBC America. If a person mistakes my IQ for a speed limit on the highway because of the cadence and inflection of my voice, that's okay too. Why? Because I've also learned that the only person who defines my worth is Jesus Christ.

¹Note for those who have no geology background:tumbled rocks are annoying. Many of their natural characteristics have beendemolished in the tumbling process. Half of the joy of a rock, mineral or fossilspecimen is preserving those unique characteristics that make it what it is. Hence,rock hounds rarely appreciate or value a tumbled stone (exception: stonestumbled smooth by forces of nature…those are cool). We want to see it in itsnatural state. And we really prefer to be the ones who actually found it…in itsnatural state. We will appreciate and envy that stunning Crocoite specimen youdiscovered while sneaking around a lead mine in Tasmania, and we will gladlytake it off your hands, but we tend to turn our noses up to the smooth-tumbledand iridescent-purple-dyed quartz you found at the Cowasmoochie Gift Shop andRest Stop.

Kitchen Tip: Measuring Shortening

2012-01-05T20:24:00.000-05:00

Here's a handy tip for accurately measuring shortening if you don't have a kitchen scale.

Say you need a cup of shortening for a recipe. Grab a liquid measure that will hold at least two cups. Measure 1 cup of water and set it aside...preferably in another cup. *smarty-pants smile* Dry out your measuring cup, then spoon some shortening into it.

Why dry the cup? So the shortening will stick to the bottom and not float to the surface when you add the water in the next step. Trust me, it's a lot easier to complete this process when the shortening stays on the bottom of the cup.

When you have what looks like a cup of shortening, pour in the cup of water. The water should stop at the two-cup mark. If it's below, you need more shortening. If it's above, you need to remove some. When you've got the amount correct, pour out the water (careful not to dump your shortening with it). And now you're done!

Side Note: Never use dry measuring cups for liquid measures or vice versa, because they are not interchangeable. The measurement discrepancy might not matter in some stove-top dishes, but the difference could make or break your baked recipe. Remember, baking is a science experiment in your oven. If you get the measurements off, your experiment might fail.

Squirrels Don't Like Crisco

2012-01-03T22:43:00.002-05:00

Well...it started with my dad, as all good animal stories do. Dad loves animals. He has horses, cattle, dogs and a cat. He's tender-hearted with a mischievous streak (like father, like daughter). Together, we've broken a mare from her fear of water and discovered what happens when the tackle box is left open and a Boxer bulldog steals and eats an entire bag of jelly worm lures (they were not pre-hooked, thankfully). Dad taught me what cats do when you put scotch tape on the pads of their paws, and that toads excrete a substance on their skin that will make a Cocker Spaniel foam at the mouth.

Anyway, my dad and my stepmom were visiting the weekend before Christmas, and he was watching the birds visit the feeder just outside my living room window, amazed at the variety of species, when a squirrel came along, climbed up the skinny wrought-iron pole, and hung upside down to get some sunflower seed. This is not unusual. The squirrels often take turns at that feeder, one or two foraging below while a third snacks above.

Dad, having seen a few too many squirrel-proofing-bird-feeder youtube videos (again, like father, like daughter), said, "Hey, you got some Crisco?"

I eyed him and said, "Yeah. Why?"

"Because I've heard that squirrels can't climb up a greased pole. They'll slide right down."

So I gave him a paper towel with a decent-sized scoop of vegetable shortening on it. He went outside and greased the pole, then came back in, chuckling like he does when he's thoroughly enjoying something. You'd have to know my dad to fully appreciate his laugh.

We stood inside the living room and waited for a squirrel. Didn't take long. Here came one, shimmied maybe a foot up the pole, but we didn't get to see it slide back down. When its front paws touched that greasy shortening, it abandoned mission and jumped off the pole, licked its front paws, shook its head, then dragged its feet and mouth through the grass, trying to wipe off the Crisco. Another squirrel came a few minutes later. That one actually ran to a nearby dogwood, wiping its mouth and its paws on the tree's bark. Word must travel fast in Squirreldom, because of the half dozen bushy-tailed rodents we usually have frolicking in our front yard, none tried to climb up that pole. And that was the last of the squirrels on the feeder until today.

Apparently, the recent rain washed off the last of the shortening. I had to re-apply this evening. :-) But in that two and a half weeks, I've probably saved five dollars worth of bird seed.

Monster Brother Love

2011-12-05T20:20:00.001-05:00

Our five-year-old son came upstairs to fill his water cup, then headed back down to the basement play room. At the top of the stairs he paused and shouted out to his seven-year-old sister, "A-, I love you!" Then stomped down the wooden stairs, calling, "Here comes the hug and kiss monster! Grrrrrrrarrr! Grrrrrrarrr!"

You've just got to love that monster brother love.

I was in their room with them the other day, when they started telling each other how much they love each other, and how great the other person was.

"I love you, I-. You're the best brother in the whole world."

"I love you too, A-. You're the best sister in the world."

Okay, so perhaps this very human mommy and daddy haven't messed them up after all.

Or perhaps Jesus is just that good. Yeah. I think that's it.

Love Means

2011-11-30T23:38:00.001-05:00

Love means never having to say you're sorry. - Love Story

I saw this old quote on Facebook today. I've always disliked it. Why? According to this mentality, love means never having to apologize for hurting that significant other. Love means you never have to admit you were wrong. Love means you can protect your pride. It's extremely convenient. And it's a load of hogwash.

To quote another book:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Yeah, in light of that, real love would never have anything to apologize for. Love unadulterated sets a high standard. For those of us who don't love perfectly (every human being), any bit of real, genuine love existing in our souls will prompt us—when our pride doesn't get in the way—to say those all-important words "I'm sorry" for failing in that perfect measure.

So hopefully you can see why I dislike that quote. It feels like a cop out. I think true love means knowing when to say you're sorry...and saying it.

Rosh Hashanah, the Feast of Trumpets

2011-09-28T13:05:00.000-05:00

Rosh Hashanah, the civil Jewish calendar's new year, begins tonight. Rosh Hashanah is known in scripture as Yom Teruah, the Feast of Trumpets. It is observed on the first two days of Tishri, the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar. Why two days instead of one? The only Biblical feast to come with the new moon, its date could not be calculated exactly during the days of Scripture. One had to watch for the new moon, and its appearance in the sky had to be verified by two or more witnesses. For this reason, the Feast of Trumpets is known as "the feast of which no man knows the day or the hour." Christian friends, does that phrase sound familiar to you? If yes, there's a reason.

In addition to the Shabbat (Sabbath), there are seven yearly Biblical feasts commanded by the Lord, known in Hebrew as HaMoadim, or God's appointed times. And, true to their collective Biblical name, these feasts belong to the Lord. Foundational to all of Scripture, understanding them is essential if you want to truly grasp Biblical prophecy and eschatology.

Jesus Christ, Yeshua HaMashiach, fulfilled (and I do not mean ended, there is a distinct difference) the first four of His feasts with His first coming: Passover (Pesach), Unleavened Bread (Hag Hamatzot), First Fruits (Yom Habikkurim), and Pentecost (Shavuot). The last three will be fulfilled with His second coming: Rosh Hashanah/Yom Teruah (the Feast of Trumpets), Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), and Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles). His statement that "No man knows the day nor the hour," refers to His fulfillment of the Feast of Trumpets...at the last trump. The statement is true on its surface as well, because He said Himself that only our Heavenly Father knows when He will send His Son to return for His bride here on earth.

Scripture comes alive in amazing ways with mere glimpses of the Hebrew roots, the largely unseen anchor of our faith. Press in; dig deeper. A rabbi once told me that you could spend 70 lifetimes as a Torah student and barely scratch the surface. How much more depth is there to Scripture when you add in the Torah Incarnate, Jesus Christ?

So take a step outside tonight and look up at the starry sky. Spot that new moon if you can, and remember both Jesus' promise in Revelation 22, "Yes, I am coming quickly," and John's response: "Come, Lord Jesus!"

Until His return, L'Shanah Tovah Tikatevu! May you be inscribed [in the (Lamb's) Book of Life] for a new year!

Profound

2011-09-12T21:29:00.000-05:00

Tonight my husband was trying to explain the meaning of the word "profound" to our children. He used the example of our daughter telling him probably a year ago that "Jesus dying for us is the most important thing." After a minute or two, she said, "Daddy, what if we could see Jesus dying on the cross? If I could see Him, I would kiss Him before he died for us. Right on the lips. I bet he would like that. Jesus is part of our family."

Breathe

2011-08-29T21:20:00.003-05:00

I can't imagine life without writing. Actually, that's something of a lie. I've gone through dry non-writing spells several times. My life is so much brighter, more joyful when I write.

For a writer, to write is to breathe.

Handy Kitchen Trick: Zipper Bags

2011-07-06T22:53:00.005-05:00

Zipper bags are useful for all sorts of things--freezing fruits, veggies, leftovers, even sauces and broths. But one of my favorite uses for a zipper bag is restaurant left-overs.
I thought everyone knew this little fact, but I was recently informed otherwise by an avid restaurant diner. So, here is my gift to you this week: An average-sized to-go box will fit perfectly in a gallon-sized zipper storage or freezer bag. No more stinky Chinese fridge. No more ice that tastes like the remnants of your last visit to Olive Garden. And no more having to dump all your restaurant leftovers into a plastic or glass lidded container. Just slip the to-go box into the zipper bag, seal it, and stick it in the fridge. Voila!

Baking Tip of the Week: The Freezer is Your Friend

2011-07-01T11:56:00.003-05:00

When making a custom cake that requires carving the layers, freeze them first.
Seriously.
Wrap them well in plastic wrap and put them in the freezer until they're frozen solid. Cake layers are much easier to carve when frozen. Plus, freezing shrinks the crumb, so your cake doesn't crumble when you slice it up and serve it to your guests.
No, freezing the layers in this manner does not dry out your cake if you wrap it well. You get a dried-out cake when the grocery store bakery freezes cakes already decorated.
Just don't leave the layers in your freezer for months on end and then expect them to still be good. I'd say two weeks, at most. Usually, I bake and freeze the day before I decorate.

Full Custody

2011-06-26T18:58:00.003-05:00

While vacationing in Virginia this weekend, we drove past a church sign that sported these words: "God wants full custody, not just a weekend visit."

Does God have full custody of me? Or do I just drop in for weekend visits?

Rainbow House

2011-06-26T18:55:00.003-05:00

As we were driving Virginia mountain back roads in the rain today, four-year-old son piped up and said, "Daddy, when it stops raining, make our house new. And paint it rainbow colored. Every color in the world. Okay, Daddy?"

Cobbler Dot Com

2011-06-21T22:56:00.004-05:00

A few months ago my husband overheard our four year old playing with his beloved Cobbler, a ragged plush cat toy. In the midst of his play, he said, "Go to www dot cobbler dot com for more details."

Dying to Self

2011-05-25T12:50:00.007-05:00

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. - Philippians 2:5-8

My brother from Living Hope Ministries gave me this verse on Monday and gave me a powerful insight to accompany it (which is also shared by John Loren and Paula Sanford in their book Transforming the Inner Man ).

Transformation into the image of Christ comes in two parts. Jesus' blood is applied for the forgiveness of sins. That is done completely by Him. All we can do is accept it. But if you stop there, you will not experience true transformation. Transformation comes only through the cross. The cross is there for death and resurrection power. To experience true freedom in Christ, to be transformed into the image of God, we must allow our sin patterns to be crucified. Daily.

It's a miserable death. And what makes it worse is that we can't complete it alone. Crucifixion is a death that only happens at the hands of others. Our part is choosing to stay on the proverbial cross and let our sin nature die when we're nailed to it--usually by those closest to us.

...let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. - Hebrews 12:1-2

The other side of the cross holds great joy for us, just as it did for our Savior, but death must occur before resurrection power can be fully experienced.
"Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus...He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."

Jesus warned us that a cross would be involved. In Matthew 6:24, He says "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me." He promised us persecution, and He ordered us to forgive. The two go hand in hand. Forgive as He forgave us. It's one of the hardest hills we'll ever have to climb, and becoming like Christ requires that we do it daily.

Perhaps Paul put it best:

...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 3:10-14

I always suspected this prize Paul speaks of was something we could only achieve after death, but Jesus told us that the Kingdom of God is at hand, and that we can take hold of it here and now. This climb is a difficult one, but His grace abounds in our feeble attempts at obedience, and His strength is perfected in our weakness. We can reach the other side of the cross one heart issue at a time. And the wholeness, freedom, victory, and joy we experience on the other side outshines the painful struggle we endure like a blinding light.

Glorious Moments

2011-05-09T19:46:00.004-05:00

Have you ever had one of those experiences with God that leaves you completely and utterly, inexplicably, amazingly light?

And free.

He steps into your chaos and, through His amazing creative power, redeems what you had come to believe was a permanent wasteland. He removes the albatross hanging heavy around your neck. He shifts the realm of light, casting beautiful truth on the lies that had held you captive.

Sure, you're still a human being in this fallen world. You still have some baggage. But for one stunning moment in time, He lets you taste and see that He is breathtakingly good.

Those are glorious moments, my friends. Glorious.

Spring Spiders

2011-05-07T00:47:00.005-05:00

This little spider is perched on one of my favorite native blooms, commonly known as Spiderwort or Spider Lily. Don't the two make a perfect pair?

Spring Love

2011-04-26T10:43:00.003-05:00

I just watched this male cardinal pluck a sunflower seed from a feeder and shell it. He then fluttered to another nearby feeder, where his mate was perched, and handed her the shelled seed. I took this shot of him a couple days ago, but I really wish I'd had my camera in hand today.

Decluttering Life (A Book Review of Sorts)

2011-04-25T11:23:00.001-05:00

I've recently purchased a book that is slowly changing my life.

It stared with the truckload of things I inherited from my grandmother a few years ago and which have taken over our home. Platinum ringed china. Silverplate goblets. Leaded crystal. A random, mismatched china teapot. Silverplate serving dishes and spoons. A partial set of silver flatware. Brass ornamental pieces. Some depression glass (I'm keeping that). And furniture. Heaven help me, the furniture.

Add all that to our already cluttered home, and we have a suffocating mess. I've been avoiding it for a year or so, not wanting to take the time out of our already busy schedules to go through all this...stuff. But clutter can literally sap you of your energy. I literally felt trapped by this inherited albatross.

Then I happened across The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide, by Francine Jay. Don't be misled or turned off by the title. You won't be channeling Thoreau, building a cabin in Emerson's woods to escape society—though would that be so bad? It's simply a guide to altering your attitude about things, and, through that, experiencing freedom from clutter.

I added the book to my order. I got it a few days later and couldn't put it down. Its clean white covers contained an epiphany that, in turn, provided a great paradigm shift. To put it simply, I no longer feel an obligation to keep Granny's stuff or my own useless accumulations. These are just things. Things that are in the way.

I first tackled my kitchen, then took some pictures of Granny's china—which take up much less space on my hard drive than 10 seven-piece place settings complete with serving dishes, did in my dining room—and boxed them up for the donation pile. Maybe someone else will find joy in them.

I'm champing at the bit to go through the rest of this house. I can't get the stuff out fast enough. I'm determined that our home will become an oasis of space to live, where a body can stretch out and play, with plenty of room to do the things we truly enjoy. We should not have to work, walk, and live around useless stuff.

I have a long way to go, but I'm enjoying the sweet victory of empty space. I never thought I'd be a minimalist, but I do believe, after a little application, I could live comfortably on the simple side of life.

Your Experience or His Word?

2011-04-18T10:13:00.004-05:00

After years of observation, I have come to the conclusion that Christians approach God one of two ways. We either interpret Scripture in a way that makes it line up with our own personal experiences, or we let Scripture speak for itself and question why our experiences don't line up with Scripture.

I see this often regarding the gifts of the Holy Spirit, but it crops up in less obvious and much more insidious ways as well.

For example, most of us define God according to our relationships and experiences with our earthly fathers, rather than what the Bible says. If you had a distant or absent father, you'll be more inclined to see God as distant. If your dad was a strict disciplinarian, chances are your view of God is much the same.

If we've experienced a major loss or defeat in our lives, those statements in Scripture that offer victory and blessing can be hard to swallow. And we may find ourselves doubting those passages of Scripture altogether.

These are just two examples of the plethora I could give you, and I'm quite sure you could come up with many more of your own. The question is, which is correct: our personal experiences, or the Word of God?

The ultimate challenge for believers, it seems, is to set aside our preconceived notions built on past experiences and old wounds--to surrender them, if you will--and take God at His word. To let God's Word redefine our lives, and not the other way around.

I'll be the first to confess that I struggle with this. As we come to the time of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection, to the celebration of the moment when He defeated death and hell and set the captives free, I believe it's good to examine our hearts and find these subtle areas we have not surrendered or experienced freedom.

I'm praying today as David did, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; Try me and know my anxious thoughts; And see if there be any hurtful way in me, And lead me in the everlasting way."

I don't know about you, but I want my life to line up with His Word and cease trying to force the Word to line up with my life.

Snow White Cake

2011-04-12T22:00:00.001-05:00

Here's a Snow White cake I made for my mom's birthday.

The cake was lemon with lemon buttercream. The doll's clothing and headband are all fondant.

Red and White Cake

2011-04-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

This cake was a gift for our homeschool co-op director at her retirement.

The roses are sugarpaste. The cake is french vanilla with buttercream icing, covered in fondant. The lettering and red damask on the white layers are royal icing. The red layer in the middle is quilted and adorned with sugar pearls.

Catching Up

2011-03-25T15:04:00.004-05:00

Wow, it's been nearly a month since I last posted. Well, I've been busy. As a catch-up, here are a couple pictures of the cake that ended up being the final resting place of those little cherry blossoms I made in my previous post.

The blossoms took a while to make, but the end result was perfect.

This particular cake was for a baby shower, hence the nest. Bird, nest and eggs were all hand made of fondant.

Actually, I think the cake would also work nicely for a wedding. Just replace the nest with another bird to make a pair.

Under all that pink fondant, there's a red velvet cake with cream cheese icing.

Cherry Blossoms

2011-02-19T14:09:00.003-05:00

Here are some of the fondant/sugarpaste cherry blossoms I made for an upcoming baby shower cake. These aren't simple cutter-stamped flowers. I molded and shaped each one by hand. They take a long time, but the end result is something special.

Marriage in Bloom

2011-02-16T16:12:00.005-05:00

My sweet husband sent me three dozen roses on Friday for Valentine's Day. Thirty six tight blood-red buds. They were lovely. They're even prettier five days later, in full bloom.

We've seen twelve years come and go since we said our vows, and those years were filled with life. Beautiful, difficult, often mundane life that's complete because we're walking side-by-side through it. Like those tight rosebuds, when we first got married, things were exciting and new. But with each passing year, I can honestly say that life with my husband keeps getting better, like a rose slowly unfolding to reveal its full splendor through the course of a lifetime.

Thank you for sharing your life with me, Doug. I love you. And thank You, Lord, for an amazing husband who has given me a better understanding of Christ's love for his bride.

Mommy Grace

2011-02-15T21:09:00.001-05:00

My husband came out of the bathroom after giving the kids a bath and said that our daughter told him, "Daddy, I know I won't be as good a mommy as Mommy is. She's so sweet."

Thank God for His grace that covers all my mistakes and lets my daughter see beyond how I see myself.

Tiered Daisy Cake

2011-02-11T17:57:00.000-05:00

Here's that tiered daisy cake I mentioned in my previous post. I think it turned out well.

Fondant Daisies

2011-02-08T17:34:00.000-05:00

I just love daisies. I do believe they're one of God's most cheerful flowers. I made these fondant daisies today for a friend's anniversary cake.

You Might Be a Writer...

2011-02-04T17:53:00.001-05:00

if you notice people eyeing you at the grocery store and realize that you were running through dialogue again, out loud.

Pretty Wrong

2011-01-27T12:43:00.004-05:00

This morning my sweet daughter proudly announced, "Look, Mommy, I did a beautiful a. Aren't my letters beautiful?" I looked, and sure enough, her handwriting was excellent. Except for one problem: she was supposed to write the word branch. She wrote brach instead. Her answer was pretty, but it was wrong.

I praised her for her handwriting, then asked what she'd written. She realized her mistake and erased part of the word to correct it.

My little girl's mistake was innocent, and she readily accepted the correction. But how often do we get so caught up in the appearances of things that we miss the essential ingredients that add true value to our work? How often are we pretty wrong? And how willing are we to accept correction when we miss it completely?

We can make everything look perfect, but if it's wrong, it's still wrong. That's our life without Jesus. He's the missing letter. Are we putting Him in His proper place in each aspect of our lives? In writing and work? Parenting? Socializing? Life?

It's hard to get away from performance, but Jesus calls us to do just that, to take our eyes off our pride and seek Him for our approval, not man.

Grace Walks By

2011-01-25T18:18:00.003-05:00

There's a powerful song by the artist eLi, called Grace Walks By. It's about that universal choice we are each faced with, many on a daily basis: forgiveness. The Lord brings me back to that song during different seasons of my life, and each time it's appropriate. I wanted to provide a link to the song itself, but it has, sadly, escaped notice and never been placed on youtube. If you're inclined, the song is worth purchasing. The entire album is profound, and the music is simple and gentle.

Here are the lyrics. They so eloquently capture the sentiment I'd like to express, that it would be silly for me to write them any other way. Perhaps they will bless you as they have me.

Grace Walks By
from the album "Second Hand Clothing"
by eLi

She was so beautiful
Lightning in her hair
She was in his sight
But the flashing lights
Of resentment filled his eyes
Left him scared and blind

Life is cold now
He wishes he could see

Forgiveness walks right by him
But he can't see her face
It's bitterness that blinds him
Oh, she walks up to him
He would look her in the eyes
If he still believed in grace
Still believed in grace

He used to dance with her
This old man in a chair
Now he don't walk no more
They used to dance like the wind
Until a storm blew him down
Left him broken on the floor

Life is slow now
He wishes he could reach

Forgiveness dances by him
But he can't join her
Cuz bitterness leads instead
Oh, she reaches for him
And he would take her hand
If she could raise the dead
Oh, she could raise the dead

Looking back now
At what others have missed
I am pleading
For redemption's kiss

Forgiveness walks up to me
And i will join her
Cuz bitterness leads to death
Oh, she reaches for me
And i will take her hand
Together we will dance
Oh, together we will dance

Their Goodbyes

2011-01-21T13:28:00.003-05:00

“I’m getting tired of this,” she said with a sigh.

“Of what? Of dying?” he asked.

“Yes.”

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, the recognition reflecting in his own weary eyes. “I’m okay with that. Just remember where you’re going. And I’ll meet you on the other side. Real soon.”

My Grandma Nina, my stepmom's mother, passed away yesterday after a battle with lung cancer. Folks often refer to a person as "losing" their battle with cancer when they die. But Grandma Nina didn't lose anything. You see, she knew the Person who created her body, and she trusted Him to the very last breath.

That's why she and Grandpa Preston were able to have that conversation just a couple weeks ago. Because they both know Him and trust Him. They know He is good, and they know that He keeps His promises.

Nina was a beautiful woman inside and out. The peace that radiated from her throughout her walk through the Valley of the Shadow proved what most don't realize, that even death is not our battle. It's His. And the good news: He's already won.

My dad put it best when he said that while watching Grandma Nina, "you really get what the Bible means when it says Jesus takes the sting out of death."

Grandma Nina, Thank you for blessing your family, even us extended members, with unconditional love, kindness, joy and acceptance. Thank you for showing your family how to live—and die—by faith. We were blessed to have you. We're going to miss you deeply. But our hearts rejoice that you are now in our Creator's presence, and He's offered us the same hope and promise you so beautifully enjoyed in Him.

Chicken Pot Pie Just Like This

2011-01-20T14:48:00.006-05:00

I made a chicken pot pie. From scratch. Even the pie crust was made by yours truly.

Okay, so it's not the prettiest pot pie in the world, but hey, it was from scratch. And it was delicious.

But don't take my word for it. The dear husband and I were discussing this dish's caloric content over dinner last night (don't ask...you don't want to know), and I suggested using milk instead of heavy cream, or better yet, leaving out the cream entirely. I personally like broth-based fillings better than cream-based anyway.

About this time, the official Pickiest Eater on Earth, aka my daughter, piped up and said, "No, Mommy. The next time you make it, you have to make it just like this."

The Manicure (also known as The Alternate Third Level of Hell)

2011-01-16T17:23:00.005-05:00

A few weeks ago my awesome husband came home after visiting the parts store and announced that he wanted to take our son to the monster truck rally. I decided this would be a great opportunity for a mother-daughter date as well, so I scheduled for my six-year-old daughter and I to visit the local kids' spa for manicures/pedicures.

Fast forward to yesterday and our big mommy/daughter date. We started off with dinner at Moe's, because, well, we were both in the mood for chain southwestern cuisine.

Then we went to a local salon and spa for kids that some friends had recommended (local friends, contact me if you want the name), which uses organic products. A party of probably eight prepubescent girls was already there for a birthday party, getting the works: manicures, pedicures, facials and up-dos as the birthday girl's mother (very nice lady, I later found out) looked on. We were a little early, so we browsed through the very small retail section of the spa while we waited for our turn. A woman called us back and started us off by getting us to choose nail colors then soaking our hands in cool, soapy water. This was okay. My daughter and I chatted for a few minutes about the nail colors we'd selected as our hands soaked. Then the woman patted our hands dry and applied lotion. She walked away because one of the birthday party attendants was removing her mudmask prematurely. In the interim, my daughter said, "Mommy, my hands itch. Really bad. They won't stop."

I looked at my daughter's hands. Both were red and splotchy. Allergic reaction. To the lotion, I figured. I alerted the staff, who immediately said this was the first time anything like that had happened. The mother of the birthday girl was nearby, and she said it also looked like an allergic reaction to her. The staff led me to a sink, where I washed the lotion off her hands. Then I fished some Aveeno (has oatmeal, excellent for allergic and sensitive skin) out of my purse and slathered her hands well. This soothed them, and she seemed to be fine--a fluke, really, especially since she's never had an allergic reaction before--so we held out our hands, and the employee painted our nails for us.

A moment or two into our nail polish application, the birthday party mom got the attendant's attention. All four of the girls who'd just received mud masks were breaking out in large hives all over their faces.

Hmm...

The birthday mom and I looked at each other, and though we'd never met, we were of the same mind, both wondering if we should bail on this place for health and safety's sake, or press through so as not to disappoint our respective child(ren). The attendants discussed the situation before us. They couldn't figure out what had happened. They'd used an organic facial product. Every ingredient was 100% organic, according to the product information. As the attendant led the hive-inflicted girls to the back of the store to wash their faces, I eyed my daughter, whose hands were starting to turn back to their normal color under the calming balm of the Aveeno. She was enjoying herself despite the skin reaction, so I decided to proceed with caution.

Another attendant finished up our manicures, then passed us back to the first attendant for our pedis. No lotion this time, I said. The attendant agreed. She brought out cool soapy water to soak our feet, and my daughter and I snapped a few pictures of ourselves with my camera phone. Had to capture our girl's night out, right?

The attendant returned after getting all of the party girls settled down with cupcakes and dried our feet, then stepped away with our soaking bowls, and my daughter said, "Mommy, my ankles hurt. Ohh, they really hurt!"

I looked down, and her ankles were swelling!

The birthday mom, who was standing nearby, looked at me and shook her head. The attendants scrambled. One went to a Mexican market a few doors down and bought a sample packet of Benadryl while another carried her to the sink so I could wash her feet. "I didn't use lotion," the attendant said. "It must have been the soap." So we get her feet and ankles washed, and I slather Aveeno on her poor little feet and large, egg-like ankles.

The other attendant returned with a sample packet of Benadryl. My daughter, who has never swallowed a pill before, couldn't get it down. She spit it out after trying unsuccessfully to swallow it. I normally have liquid Benadryl on-hand because of my son's food allergy, but if you'll remember, he was at a monster truck rally with his daddy. So...

I watched her. She was breathing fine. Nothing else was swelling. She didn't want to leave without getting her toenails painted. So I pulled out my camera phone and snapped a few pics of her poor ankles. And we stayed. The swelling was almost completely gone within twenty minutes, and she selected a head band and a stretchy, sparkly bracelet from the little retail kiosks at the front of the salon.

But all the while I wondered if the other mom and I had made the right decision in staying. Either way, I doubt I'll ever return to that salon. I'm not quite sure I feel comfortable paying $60 for two allergic reactions again.

When we left the salon, we went to Walmart, where we bought some more Benadryl and some nail polish. We both decided a home manicure and pedicure would be just as much fun, without all the drama. Plus, I'd get to hold her hand as I painted her nails myself. I can't get much better than that.

Soul Excavation and Book Therapy

2011-01-13T01:18:00.008-05:00

I'm beginning a Bible study/soul excavation/book therapy/study group of sorts with three other awesome women, using the fantastic book Strong Women Soft Hearts (SWSH) by Paula Rinehart. We're reading a chapter a week and going through the study questions in the back of the book. I've read sections of this book over and over again, and now I'm excited to read it all the way through with an accountability group of sorts.

I already can tell SWSH is going to be amazing because of five things that have impressed me so far. Granted, none of these factors taken alone would necessarily make a book outstanding, but put them all together, and you've got a winner...at least, for me:

1) Relevant. Seriously. I've gotten something deep out of every section I've read in the book so far. The author is engaging, and the topics are surprisingly relevant.

2) Honest. SWSH takes you right to the heart of the matter, elegantly cutting through all the bull.

3) Challenging. Rinehart gently challenges you to get honest too, to take a good look at the things and places that hurt, which brings me to my third point...

4) Biblically based. This author isn't just another self-appointed self-help guru. She grounds the points in scripture and brings you to a place of opportunity without a great deal of pressure. Will you let God excavate those hurt places with you as you self-examine, so that you can finally experience healing and freedom through Him?

5) Emotionally mature. SWSH doesn't shy away from emotion, yet it avoids emotional manipulation.

Enough said.

If you've read this book, I'd love your comments. Feel free to share.

Snow Drivers

2011-01-11T01:46:00.001-05:00

What is it about white flakes falling from the sky that makes normally sane individuals drive like morons? Coasting through red lights, cutting people off, ignoring stop signs. It's like snow short-circuits their synapses. Or perhaps they think wintry precipitation negates all state traffic laws. And this is before there's any accumulation. At the first sign of snow crystals drifting from on high, all common sense vanishes.

Boundaries

2011-01-04T19:07:00.002-05:00

Delightful quote I saw on someone's facebook profile:

G.K. Chesterton once quipped that before you remove any fence always first ask why it was put there in the first place. You see, every boundary set by God points to something worth protecting, and if you are to protect the wonder of existence, God's instruction book is the place to turn. Anyone who thinks that he or she can place the boundaries arbitrarily will either destroy the enchantment of life or wear himself into exhaustion. God's commands are there to protect what life is truly about, not the other way around. Implementing that truth in our lives keeps us from losing the wonder. ~Ravi Zacharias

White Christmas

2010-12-23T23:38:00.004-05:00

The forecast looks promising for my neck of the woods Saturday.
The meaning of Christmas has changed a lot for me since I was a child, but I can honestly say that one thing has remained the same. My all-time favorite Christmas song has always been White Christmas, performed by the only man who can do it justice: Bing Crosby.
Singers and their remakes come one year and are gone the next, but Bing's voice is timeless. The first to sing it publicly (in 1941), Bing's 1942 recording of White Christmas is the best-selling single of all time.
Take a moment and listen for yourself. Absolutely nothing captures the season better.

Insight from a Four Year Old

2010-12-18T22:23:00.004-05:00

WARNING: Toy Story 3 spoiler alert
While watching Toy Story 3 tonight with the kids, one of the toys says, "what a nice bear." My four year old piped up and said, "He's not a nice bear. He's just pretending to be a nice bear, but he's a monster inside."
Holy smoke, I did not expect that sort of insight from my son. Actually, he was quoting a line from later in the movie (as my best friend kindly pointed out), but still...it's amazing what a child can understand about humanity and sin nature.

Mad Dentist

2010-12-16T18:50:00.006-05:00

Here's the third installment of the dental/tooth cake series. That's a 12-inch ruler at the base of the cake, just to give it some perspective.

Everything is edible, except some strategically placed dowel rods and toothpicks.

Don't you just love the comb over?

Empathy

2010-12-14T12:03:00.004-05:00

As we cuddled yesterday morning, my four-year-old pinched the inside of my upper arm as hard as he could. I yelped, and he looked at me, surprised. I stuck my bottom lip out, then I said, "That really hurt, buddy." His eyes filled with tears, and he began to cry. Then he apologized for hurting me. I was dumbfounded. Apparently, my sweet son has learned empathy.

Literary Vain Repetition

2010-12-13T15:38:00.005-05:00

The term vain repetition is often used in certain religious circles, typically in reference to repetitive, ritualistic prayer, based on a comment Jesus made in Matthew 6:7. I’ve decided, though, that vain repetition is the perfect term for a common mistake in writing. Brace yourselves for another of my writing pet peeves.

There are literary techniques that utilize repetition, such as anaphora or alliteration. That's not what this blog entry is about. No, I’m talking about those instances—typically in flowery, poetic prose, though every writer does it, and I have been so very guilty of it myself—where the writer is so enamoured with their own ability to turn a phrase that they can't decide which way they want to say it. So they say it both ways. Or all three.

*Yawn*

(Watch for my example in this paragraph.) Seriously. Do us all a favor and pick one way to say it. I realize all three sentences might be lovely, and your mother or best friend or spouse is highly impressed with your prose prowess, but by the end of your literary muscle flex, your reader is no longer impressed. They're possibly annoyed that you’ve wasted their time repeating yourself, or just amused at what came across as self-absorption. Instead of expecting your reader to plow through your repetition, save your other clever versions of the same sentence for another time. Don't beat a dead horse with your re-invented phrases. Please.

Did you count them? I made the same point at least four different ways in that previous paragraph. Weren’t you impressed? I did feel a bit of pride about the alliteration in that little “prose prowess” ditty. Wasn’t that clever of me?

That is why I call it vain repetition. But you got my point, didn't you? So don't do to your readers what I just did to you. And please, please, heaven-have-mercy please don’t do it in fiction.

Pumpkin Dip

2010-12-11T23:02:00.004-05:00

Several friends asked for the recipe for this treat, so I got permission to post it from the friend who gave it to me. This dip is absolutely delicious with ginger snaps or molasses cookies.

Pumpkin Dip

2 8-ounce packages of cream cheese, softened*
1 pound (16 ounces) of powdered sugar**
1 16-ounce can of unsweetened pumpkin
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

Whisk all ingredients together until smooth. Refrigerate until ready to serve. Makes approximately 80 1-tablespoon servings.

*Try light cream cheese for a healthier option.
**The Libby Pumpkin website has a very similar recipe that only calls for 2 cups of powdered sugar (approximately half of a pound). That might be a good option for those trying to cut back on sugar.

Firsts

2010-12-11T01:39:00.004-05:00

I took my children to see the Nutcracker for the first time Wednesday. I'm not sure why, but I tear up every time they experience a first. Their first visit to the movie theater, trip to the zoo, the beach, a football game. Their first time hiking. My daughter's first lost tooth. The first time she read a story for herself. My son's pride in his first drawing.

Getting to see the excitement in their eyes, feel it right along with them. I wouldn't trade their firsts for anything in the world.

Crown

2010-12-09T16:42:00.000-05:00

Here's the second in the tooth series of cakes, a 3D crown of a tooth. Everything you see here is edible--it's all cake, buttercream, fondant and sugarpaste.

The Eternal Optimist and the Smooth Talker

2010-12-03T01:33:00.003-05:00

I played my sweet six-year-old in checkers tonight. When she was down to her last man, she said, "I'm alone, but that's okay. I can think better alone."

Meanwhile, this morning my four-year-old learned to say, "How you doin'?" in true Joey Tribbiani style.

Mike the Molar

2010-12-02T16:35:00.001-05:00

A friend who owns a dental lab has asked me to make some tooth-themed cakes for him. Here's the first one. My kids called him Mike the Molar.

Science

2010-11-19T17:03:00.001-05:00

"The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not 'Eureka!' but 'That's funny...'" - Isaac Asimov

Stolen from a friend's facebook status.

Respect Your Contacts

2010-11-09T08:48:00.006-05:00

A few months ago, a friend of mine accidentally gave a website access to his entire address book. They harvested the email addresses of all his contacts and then spoofed his email address (made it look like a semi-legit email by putting his email address in the "from" line) and sent us all spam. The friend has since apologized and changed email addresses. But it's too late now, because they already have what they wanted: his contacts. Today spammers spoofed my own email address to send me spam. Grr.

Granted, I'm a fairly intelligent person and could tell from the subject line that the emails from his address were spam, so I did not open them. (It's important not to open spam email, because it confirms for the spammers that they have a legitimate email address.) And I obviously didn't send myself an email with "You can connect with vip singles now" as the subject line. Still, it's annoying to know my email address is now in their spamming loop.

Moral of the story: If you respect your contacts, don't give websites access to your address book.

Lesson #2: Pay attention to the subject line of emails. If it sounds like spam, it is--even if the email address belongs to a friend.

Princess Cake

2010-11-07T14:21:00.005-05:00

I was recently commissioned to create a princess cake for a little girl's birthday. She specifically asked for Princess Ariel (Little Mermaid) in a pink dress instead of green tail. This was the outcome.

The small details are what makes something like this so special.

And here she is.

Everything is edible except for the doll herself. The dress is fondant over buttercream.

Giant Cupcake

2010-10-28T12:03:00.006-05:00

Here's a giant cupcake I was commissioned to make for a sweet little girl's third birthday.

The cake is french vanilla with buttercream icing. The pink cup is actually white chocolate candy melted and shaped. The flowers and butterflies are fondant and sugarpaste. Everything you see is edible.

I had feared that the candy cup would break or shatter when we sliced it, but it sliced beautifully, giving each person an equal portion of cake, icing and candy cup.

Dialogue

2010-10-21T16:39:00.005-05:00

Here's a useful tip for my fellow fiction writers, one you probably already know, but let's share it anyway. You never know when you might learn something.

Tip:

Don't dump information on the reader through dialogue. It causes your dialogue to feel sophomoric—forced and unnatural.

Example:

Mary walked into the living room and tossed her keys to her son. "Danny, you can take my black Toyota Camry. But don't wreck it. And I expect you to be home by ten o'clock tonight. And stay away from Mark, the preacher's son. He's a troublemaker."

Here's an improvement:

Mary walked into the living room and tossed her keys to her son. "Danny, you can take my car, but don't wreck it. I expect you to be home by ten o'clock. And stay away from Mark. He's a troublemaker."

Granted, my example won't win any prizes for cleverness, but you get the idea. Put yourself in your character's place. Basically, if the character your character is talking to already knows the information, don't include it. Danny obviously knows the color and make of his mom's car. Undoubtedly, he also knows that Mark is the preacher's son. Find some other way of weaving that information into the story, if it's pertinent.

And while we're on dialogue, take the time to read it out loud. When you think you've got it right, take the next step and read it to your spouse, best friend or, ideally, a critique partner. If you're really brave (or masochistic) have that person read it while you listen.

A Remedy for Writer's Block

2010-10-13T11:13:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago, writer's block flared up. I just couldn't find the core from which I needed to write an emotionally charged scene. So I procrastinated. And then I procrastinated a little more.

Then a woman hired me to make some flower arrangements for her. As with my cakes, when I work with flowers, I throw all of my creative energy into it. That got my imagination flowing again, and the words that had evaded me for weeks presented themselves in abundance. Of course, they came in the middle of a project that had a looming deadline, so I could only make quick notes from which to draw later. Surprisingly, that limitation also fed the creativity. Since I couldn't take the time to put the words into type, there was a great deal of room for my mind to further twist and turn and play with the edits.

Long story short, if you have writer's block, pick up something completely unrelated. Finish a scrapbooking or photography project. Paint a room. Finish piecing together a quilt. So something else creative, something that will occupy one part of the mind so the imagination can get moving again. Soon the words will come.

At least, they did for me.

Grace of God

2010-10-07T10:24:00.003-05:00

After a discussion today that took me back to my memories of college, I am reminded of three words:

Grace of God.

Many times the things I saw as hindrances, He put in my way as a hedge to protect me.

The roommate the university assigned to me who turned into my closest girlfriend. The class that was too full. The guy who broke my heart. The horrible accident that I wasn't in because of an argument. The church God plugged me into. The best friend who turned into the greatest husband on earth...the list goes on and on.

Joys and disappointments that all turned out to be blessings. Some were obvious from the beginning, while others took a while for me to appreciate. I look back on the accumulation of them, and I see that He truly has caused all things to work together for my good.

Now, if I can keep that perspective going forward...

Worlds Apart

2010-09-15T23:03:00.005-05:00

After listening to a song tonight while cleaning her room, my six-year-old daughter told my husband, "I was in here talking to God. Sometimes I just get this feeling that I don't care about all the toys and stuff, and just care about my relationship with you and Mommy and Brother. That song made me think about that."

Lord, guard her heart, keep it soft toward you throughout her life. Give us wisdom as her parents. Help us to maintain a healthy, loving relationship with her as she grows into the beautiful woman you've created her to be.

The song that inspired her words is Worlds Apart by Jars of Clay. Here's a youtube link:

A Whole New World

2010-09-14T11:24:00.002-05:00

Sunday night my daughter came to my husband with a plumbing DIY book in her hands. "Daddy, can you read this to me?"

It was close to bedtime, so he told her they could look at it together Monday after he got home from work. She didn't wait for him. When he walked in Monday, she was already looking at the book, reading everything in it that she could. Then she moved on to a storybook.

My little girl has found a whole new world—the printed word.

Reading for the First Time

2010-09-05T20:10:00.000-05:00

My daughter (6) is on the couch with my son (4). She's reading early readers to him, and they're both loving it.

Reading to Brother

2010-09-05T09:36:00.001-05:00

My daughter (6) is on the couch with my son (4). She's reading early readers to him, and they're both loving it.

Twenty Years

2010-08-31T13:38:00.007-05:00

It was August 31, 1990, the Friday night of Labor Day weekend. My Junior year of high school. The guys on the field were battling one of our rivals, and we were all in good spirits. A quarter or so into the game, I heard sirens on the road that ran behind our school, where the dragway was located. I turned to my friend Sarah and said I heard an ambulance.

"Probably an accident at the race." We could hear engines rev occasionally, but they were usually overpowered by the sounds of the game.

"Gosh, I hope nobody was hurt," I said as the siren wailed down Highway 401 and faded into the distance. I could tell it was moving quickly. I said a quick prayer in my head, then turned my focus back to the game.

I had no way of knowing how completely wrong our assumptions might be. No hint at the precious cargo that ambulance carried past me. No inkling what that siren would come to represent.

A few moments passed, and I spotted my neighbor and her husband at the end of the bleachers, beckoning me. Catherine was a Brit. A petite, sophisticated PhD with a pixie cut, she looked out of place at a late-summer high school football game. She was a great neighbor. I visited her regularly. Granddaddy and I had both shared the love of Jesus Christ with her several times. She was shocked at the concept of intelligent design. She'd never considered anything but evolution.

When my gaze fell on her that night, my heart skipped a beat.

Something was wrong. Badly wrong.

I moved to the end of the bleachers. "Catherine, what are you doing here?"

"Renee, something's happened. You need to come with us."

My heart thudded. Had one of my parents been in an accident? My uncle? Had the house burned down? Granny? My mind raced with possibilities. I asked what was wrong, but they wouldn't tell me. Not there, in a crowd of my peers. I followed them numbly away from the stands and down the hill from the football field to the lower fields that were filled with cars.

My stomach knotted. With the chatter of the crowd and shouts of the game now in the distance, I stopped. "Please tell me what's wrong. I've got to know."

Catherine and her husband glanced at each other. "It's your grandfather. He's had a heart attack."

Oh, God. No. He was my rock. My anchor and foundation. My shelter. The man who made everything okay when it all went wrong. He held the frayed fabric of our family together.

No. She was wrong. She had to be. But the look in her eyes told me the truth.

He was gone.

Just like that. With the siren. My world slid off its axis and into God's hands. My knees buckled with the blow.

I have no idea how they got me to their car and into the back seat. Heartbroken, in a state of shock, I don't remember what I said. It was my youth pastor who told me of my words the next day, and the impact they'd had on Catherine.

"Lord, I know You have a reason. Jesus, You must have a reason."

I do remember thinking it, telling myself more than Him. Trying to assure myself that though every shred of security had just been ripped from me, I would be okay. I had no idea I was saying it out loud.

Somehow, I walked from the driveway to the open front door of my grandparents' home. People were already there. I looked up the steps at our bedrooms. Last time I saw him was when he went to his room that afternoon for a nap. Had I told him I loved him? I couldn't remember. I still can't.

My youth pastor and his mom were there. Other friends showed up too. I was numb, half aware of their presence. Catherine saw me safely to the front door, then stayed outside with her husband.

A few days after the funeral, my pastor told me what I'd said in the car and what Catherine told him: "I don't know what kind of faith this family has, but I want it."

A week or so later, Catherine had to have a pacemaker installed. I went to see her when she got home. She was studying in a Bible in her sunroom when I arrived. She told me she'd accepted Christ a few days before.

And then I knew the reason. If only Granddaddy could have known that his death was part of God's master plan for the neighbor we'd prayed for daily.

Sometimes God lets us glimpse His plan in the midst of our suffering. I think He gives us those moments to strengthen our faith for the times when He knows we can't see it.

It's been twenty years, and I still cry when I remember that night. His death impacted every facet of my life. I know it was God's will for him to go home, but I will never stop missing him.

I love you, Granddaddy. Jesus, thank You for the time I had with him. Thank You for the plan You have for me and the path You have chosen for my life.

Kid Quote

2010-08-26T21:49:00.000-05:00

Tonight while talking to Doug, our six year old daughter said, "You and Mommy are the best Mommy and Daddy in the world! But don't tell any other adults that, or it will hurt their feelings."

Little Reminders

2010-08-18T16:26:00.001-05:00

My favorite devotional book of all time is the Jesus Storybook Bible, by Sally Lloyd-Jones. My husband reads a chapter each night to our children, and it blows me away every time I hear it. I think we all desperately need to be reminded on a daily basis of His "Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbeaking, Always and Forever Love."

Funny for the Day

2010-08-16T22:53:00.002-05:00

Saw this one posted on facebook, and I have no idea who originated it, but it's now making its way around. It was so hilarious I had to re-post it here. Enjoy!
Truths For Mature Humans
1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11.You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
13.I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this - ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? ****it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.
24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?
26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?
29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.
30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.
31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time,every time !

Kid Quote

2010-08-16T21:36:00.000-05:00

While eating a cheeseburger tonight, our little guy pipes up and says, "they use sesame seeds to grow cheeseburgers, right?"

Two Down

2010-08-15T22:54:00.003-05:00

I don't remember her getting into bed with us, but I woke early this morning to my daughter's voice, "Mommy, my tooth came out."
She lost her bottom front right tooth first, a few weeks ago, and the permanent tooth below is now poking clearly out of the gum. Now she's lost the bottom left. I believe that's the same order they came in when she was a baby.

Champagne Grapes

2010-08-13T11:06:00.005-05:00

Last August I stumbled across a little gem—technically a cluster of little gems—at the grocery store. Organic champagne grapes.
Any mother will tell you that the quest for healthy snacks never ends. So I snatched up a box and took them home. My then-three-year-old son fell in love with them. Big sister, not so much. But she did declare them better than regular grapes.
I had to agree. These tiny grapes are delicious, sweet, and easy to eat. Plus, they’re so small, I don’t have to worry about little throats getting choked on them.
The drawback: they’re only in season August and the first part of September. So you can imagine my elation when I found them in the produce department at Whole Foods this week. I bought the last two boxes.
Children are finicky, and this year my son isn’t enamored with them anymore, although he says they're okay when the skins don't stick to the roof of his mouth.
I say they're delicious, and I don't even like grapes.

Eager to Learn

2010-08-13T10:10:00.007-05:00

I'm so proud of my little guy. He turned four last month, and he begged today to homeschool with his sister. I pulled out Get Ready for the Code, a pre-Explode the Code phonics and handwriting book that I bought for him to begin this fall. He completed the first nine pages, begging for more the entire time. He's holding his little pencil and crayons correctly, trying to color in the lines, x-ing and circling, following directions like a little pro. It is such a blessing when they're eager to learn.
Lord give me the wisdom I need to fan those eager little flames.

Keep Talking

2010-08-11T13:06:00.001-05:00

My daughter, who is quite the talker, turned to me just now, ice cream cone in hand, and said, "Mommy, sometimes you have to catch your breath to keep talking."
Sometimes I get tired of the chatter. Sometimes I even ask her and her brother to be quiet for a little while.
But keep talking, honey. Don't ever stop. As much as I want quiet, I want communication with you more.

Colored Pencils

2010-08-10T14:04:00.002-05:00

I pulled out some Crayola erasable colored pencils (yes, these really do erase) for my daughter to do her phonics/handwriting today. She had a blast choosing different colors for each answer. The green one to write "frog," the brown one to write "twig," and so on. Suddenly it wasn't a chore anymore. It was fun.

How Extreme is Your Green?

2010-08-09T10:27:00.005-05:00

I'm big on feeding my kids organic food, buying local produce and fair trade products when possible, baking my own bread, etc. I do this for the health benefits to my family, but I do also enjoy the fact that such products are better for the environment.
We also tried using compact fluorescent light bulbs exclusively (in every lamp and fixture that was suitable for them), but as you may recall from one of my previous blog posts, that didn't work out so well for us. Not every green option is a perfect fit for every family. After three years, we removed most of them for a number of reasons, but I will note that since going back to incandescents, my daily migraines have become much less of a problem. We still use some CFLs, but not exclusively.
My husband's office is an hour from our home, so he and 15 other employees who live in our town ride a carpool van every day to work. This saves us more than $300 a month in gas and auto wear and tear (our primary reason). It also reduces pollution. There is a fee for the carpool, but the monetary benefits far outweigh it.
I'm also big on recycling. My city has made it easy for me with weekly curbside pickup of recycled goods, so how can I not take full advantage of that convenience? Yet as I sorted through the mail yesterday and found myself standing over the trash can, ripping the bits of cellophane from windowed envelopes (the city says they can't recycle the cellophane), I had to wonder if I'm being a little bit obsessive with this recycling effort.
Do you obsess over green? If so, in what ways? Share your green extremes with me.

Emunah

2010-08-05T10:04:00.008-05:00

What exactly is faith? Faith is, for the most part, a convoluted idea. I mean, we know from the book of James that faith isn’t just believing there’s a God (James 2:19-20), but what exactly is it?
Emunah. That’s the Hebrew word for faith, and its literal translation is “trust-grounded obedience.”
James has a lot to say about faith and works, and how the two go hand-in-hand. I wrote a lengthy entry about that, but I decided it would be best if you just go to James 1 and 2 and read it for yourself. Please do. You'll be blessed.
Bottom line, James says that you must be doers of the word, and not just hearers (James 1:22-25), and that faith without works is as dead as a body without a spirit (James 2:14-26). Keep in mind that James isn’t talking about just any works. In the first half of James 2 (verses 1-13), you see that these "works" are acts of obedience to the Lord’s commandments…the “law” as it is translated here.
This word “law” is the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. The Greeks had an advanced legal system, but they didn’t have anything comparable to the Torah. When translating the Septuagint, they selected the Greek word nomia, meaning “an unalterable law,” to represent this complicated Hebrew concept in a way that the Greeks might better understand.
But herein lies the problem. Torah is not law. The Hebrew word torah literally means “God’s teaching and instruction.” Further, its root word is orah, which means “light.”
The Torah is God’s teaching and instruction, given by Him to illuminate the path man should walk.
Jesus is God’s Word made flesh, the Torah incarnate—sent to dwell among us, to bring spiritual light in the darkness (John 1:1-14).
Trust-grounded obedience. Not obeying out of fear of punishment if we don't. Not even out of the desperation that comes with trying to earn His unmerited favor—those things can never be faith. No, there is no striving here. Only resting. This is obedience motivated by trust—in the One who died for us, redeemed us and restored us to Himself. Trust because of His lovingkindness, which births a desire to obey, not to earn anything, but simply because we love Him and want to please Him.
The hardest part of faith isn't the obedience. It's the trust.

America, the Good Wannabe

2010-08-03T13:53:00.005-05:00

This is a response to Spiritual Tramp's blog post, Are We Good:
I enjoyed that post, Scott. I confess, I did not watch the entire speech. I didn't even make it to the 6-minute point you quoted from.
I agree with your statements, for the most part. But I do take issue with a couple things. First, I wasn't there Sunday, but I disagree with that definition of goodness offered by our associate pastor.
The Bible says that praises to God are “good.” The Lord calls each day of the creation “good.” If you do a simple word search for "good" in scripture, you'll get more than 700 returns, and few of them deal with situations of generosity in particular. If you do a search for "goodness," you'll get 48 returns. All but two are about God's goodness. The other two are about the fruit of the Spirit, which is derived not by any of man's endeavors (generosity included), but by the Spirit alone.
They quoted Micah 6:8 Sunday before last, you'll remember:

He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you but
to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

According to that passage, justice, kindness and humility are good. Sacrificial generosity is surely a part of that, but it's not the end-all summation of goodness.
Further, there is no such thing as goodness outside of God. Nothing is good apart from Him, and people cannot be good without Him (James 1:17; Psalm 14:1, 53:1). So if you use Scripture as your basis for judging whether or not our nation is good, you'll have to deal with another problem in your post:
You wrote, "God isn’t (and I’d argue shouldn’t be) the center of America’s life."
You are right, God is not the center of America’s life, nor is He at the center of the vast majority of her citizens' lives (whether they claim to be Christ followers or not). And America is not a good nation, accordingly.
Generosity is a beautiful thing. It’s a mitzvah (good deed) commanded by God. His heart is particularly soft toward the orphan, the fatherless, and the widow, and generosity toward them affords us particular blessings, just as exploiting one of them affords us curses. That’s a scriptural fact. But being generous will never make us good. America could feed every starving child, clothe and medicate every destitute and sick individual in our nation and the world. America could spend, spend, spend and give, give, give, and never be good. Goodness belongs to God alone, and it is only manifested through the presence of His Holy Spirit. Everything else is just empty works.
On a related note, that's the problem I have with the liberal or progressive movement in our nation—it's all works with no place for the only One who can make any of our endeavors good or lasting—the very definition of humanism.
My opinion is rooted completely in Scripture. I realize that is seen as a weakness and an offense to many. And I, conversely, see anyone’s efforts at goodness outside of Him as fruitless. C'est la vie.

Teachable

2010-07-30T15:13:00.005-05:00

Daughter: "Mommy, can we watch Little Bear? It's really good. It teaches us to be nice and to love and be kind to each other." Pause. "Well, it teaches me that, but it doesn't teach brother that much."

Childhood in My Hand

2010-07-26T12:47:00.003-05:00

Not more than an hour after I posted my last entry, my daughter's wiggly tooth came out.
I cannot explain what it feels like to hold a tiny piece of her childhood in my hand.

Wiggly Teeth

2010-07-26T10:37:00.004-05:00

Saturday night, after a busy day and a birthday party, my almost-six-year-old daughter came running into the bathroom where I was brushing my teeth. Clothed in her butterfly pull-over towel, glasses off, hair wet, she's still so little, so sweet and innocent. Daddy followed close behind, camera in hand. Tears in her eyes and a smile on her face—a trace of fright swirled in with the excitement about growing up just a little bit more—she announced that one of her teeth was "wiggly."
Those precious baby teeth that I lovingly counted, the arrival of each one anxiously awaited, are now falling out. "Grown up teeth" are on the way. Adding to my list another of those many things you don’t think about being temporal until they’re on their way out the door.
Another milestone reached. The others have passed in a blur.
Where does the time go? Savor every moment.

Ultimate Exchange

2010-07-21T12:01:00.004-05:00

As my children were eating bunny fruit snacks today, my daughter described the bunnies. Each one was running or jumping, feet outstretched. I thought of the Velveteen Rabbit, and how he wanted back feet with which to run and jump and play. He desperately wanted to be real.
Granted, the Velveteen Rabbit wasn't weighing the odds (a rabbit can live nine years, but most live less than one year in the wild). Still, the profundity struck a chord with me: He was willing to trade immortality of a less stellar sort for the chance to really experience life in all its ephemeral beauty. The ultimate exchange.
Do you struggle with balancing length and preservation of days with the joy of living life to its fullest potential? I want to really live. I want my life to be real. How about you?

Westerns and Fighter Jets

2010-07-19T23:52:00.008-05:00

Also known as The Man Who Walked Out on Top Gun
Someone mentioned Clint Eastwood on twitter today. And that made me think of my granddaddy, because he loved a good Western. John Wayne was his all-time favorite, but Eastwood and Jimmy Stewart reruns got a decent share of the airtime on his bedroom television.
I remember in 1986 he came home one evening and informed us that he'd been to the movies. That got our attention. "I saw in the newspaper there was a new movie called Top Gun, so I went to see it."
I'd heard all about Top Gun at school. The other girls regularly swooned over pictures of Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer. So I was surprised at this bit of news from the one man left on earth who remained completely and unapologetically unaffected by societal trends. I listened intently as he continued.
"I thought for sure it was going to be a good Western. I even got some popcorn. I went in and sat down, and I'll be d*mned it if wasn't a movie about planes." Then he mumbled about how long it had been since a good Western was last released. "Who gives a d*mn about fighter jets?"
I chuckle every time I think of that. Granny laughed and teased him over it, yet I also remember how keenly his disappointment struck me. Heaven knows, after nearly twenty years, I still miss that man.

When Do You Write?

2010-07-16T09:56:00.004-05:00

A fellow blogger and writer, Roxanne Sherwood, posted a fantastic entry about writing when you're away from the computer.
I "write" in the shower, while cleaning the kitchen, and while doing laundry. My favorite place to mentally write is in the grocery store. Be forewarned, this can sometimes trigger strange looks from fellow shoppers. When that happens, I realize (too late, of course) that I'm muttering a dialogue sequence under my breath. But you absolutely must read dialogue aloud to make sure it sounds natural and has the correct rhythm. So looking like a crazy lady is the price you pay for writing while shopping, I suppose.
The point is that you should write, even when you're not at your desk, fingers on the keyboard.
If you'd like a great list of ideas for when you can ponder your current work in progress, Roxanne provides it in her blog post, A Time to Ponder. Check it out, and you might realize you have more writing time available than you first realized.

The Battle of Your Life

2010-07-14T14:44:00.002-05:00

As a Christian, the greatest battle you will ever fight is one that will endure throughout your entire lifetime: the battle over your thought life. Through the course of years, I have become increasingly aware of this life-and-death war, and the myriad ways it impacts my life and the life of every believer.
I’d like to share a little nugget of truth with you, one that comes straight from Scripture. It was given to me several years ago by a dear friend and brother in Christ who also happens to be a life coach and counselor.
I will post passages in the New American Standard translation, because that’s my personal favorite. Regardless, the original Greek doesn’t change, no matter which English translation you use. And the Greek word we’re going to look at today is noema.
Strong’s Gk #3540: noema – thought, purpose; from Strong’s Gk #3539, noeo – to perceive, think
Noema only shows up a few times in Scripture—five times in 2 Corinthians, and once in Philippians. Most frequently, this word is translated “mind,” as in these passages (emphasis/bolding mine):

But their minds were hardened; for until this very day at the reading of the old covenant the same veil remains unlifted, because it is removed in Christ.
2 Corinthians 3:14 (NASB)
And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.
2 Corinthians 4:3-4 (NASB)
But I am afraid that, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds will be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ.
2 Cor 11:3 (NASB)

Okay, so we see from these three passages that Paul, the person who wrote Corinthians, is deeply concerned with the minds of both believers and non-believers—and specifically with the mind’s susceptibility to being hardened, blinded, and deceived.
In Scripture study there is an important principle, called the “Law of First Mention.” This law basically states that the first place a concept/word is introduced becomes the foundation upon which every other place the concept/word mentioned must be built.
Noema appears two other times in 2 Corinthians, the first of which happens to be the very first time the word appears in all of Scripture. So if this next verse is the first time noema appears, and if the first time is the foundation for all other times the word is used, why did I wait so long to show this passage to you? Because you needed to see how deeply this word noema is entwined with the thoughts and the mind.

But one whom you forgive anything, I forgive also; for indeed what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, I did it for your sakes in the presence of Christ, so that no advantage would be taken of us by Satan, for we are not ignorant of his schemes.
2 Cor. 10:3-5 (NASB)

That word “schemes” is noema. Do you see the connection? Paul is concerned with the mind and the thoughts for a reason: because your mind is where Satan attacks you—relentlessly. He will attack wherever you are weakest, lie and manipulate to convince you of anything other than the truth of who you are in Christ.
Do you doubt it? How about the last time you wrestled with thoughts of inadequacy in your role as a parent or spouse? Or entertained anger and bitterness toward a co-worker, spouse, or in-law? When was the last time you looked in the mirror and heard that old familiar thought that some feature of yourself is ugly, fat, sagging, or otherwise imperfect? How often have you believed that lie that you can’t overcome an alcohol, drug, cigarette, food, or pornography addiction?
Try some of these lies on for size: It’s just too hard. You’ll never beat it. You’re a terrible mother. You’re not a leader. You suck as a husband. You’re too fat. You’re a failure. Your husband no longer wants you. You’ll never get that promotion. You’re not good enough. Go ahead and eat it. What difference does one more hit make? Or one more lie? She’ll never find out. He’s not as smart as you are. Your parents don’t understand you. Your friends don’t really care about you. She just wants to make your life miserable. Just do it. You’ll never change. This is just who you are, and you’ll never change it. You can’t. It’s impossible.
Do any of those feel familiar? Those are just a sampling from Satan’s arsenal of lies and thoughts. And it’s like a downward spiral. One thought leads to another, then another. You soon feel defeated…or energized to just say “screw it.”
What to do? How do you stop this vicious cycle? Welcome to 2 Corinthians 10:4-5 (NASB):

For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ,

That word “thought” is the same Greek word noema. Do you take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ? Do you arrest every dark or angry thought, every lie that Satan casts your way? Or do you believe it, listen to it, meditate on it?
Scripture says that we are to renew our minds (Romans 12:2) How do we do this? By washing it daily with the Word of God. Interestingly, in this passage, mind is actually nous (Strong’s Gk #3563): mind, understanding or reason. It’s also translated composure or comprehension. You renew your understanding and your ability to reason every time you delve into God’s Word.
And what happens when you renew your mind? You are better equipped to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. If you dwell on discouraging thoughts, more will come. But if every time Satan and his minions fire one of those flaming missiles (Ephesians 6) your way, you take that thought captive and counter it with God’s truth, you’ll soon find that the mind really is the battlefield.
Here’s the last place in Scripture where you will find the word noema. Be encouraged:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7 (NASB)

Peach Throw Pillows

2010-07-09T15:09:00.003-05:00

I read on facebook today of a young friend’s college plans. The discussion of on-campus housing and roommate assignments took me back to my own college years.
I attended Peace, a private women’s college, on an academic scholarship. Let’s just say I had some rather discouraging dormitory and roommate experiences. Girls can be quite catty, sometimes downright malicious. It didn't help that I was there on scholarship and most of the others were there on daddy's money. By the end of my first semester, I was ready to escape. So when I transferred the following year to Appalachian State, it took a leap of faith to again put my roommate assignment in the hands of campus housing. Not that I had a choice in the matter—after all, I didn't know any other girls there.
I braced myself for the possibilities. To be sure, I would end up with either a Satanist or a snob, so I reasoned that I would simply spend as little time as possible in my dorm room.
Boy, was I in for a surprise. Campus housing assigned me to Joannis, a short, strawberry-blonde spitfire who hurled peach throw pillows with lightning speed. She’s been my best friend for 17 years now and, without a doubt, will maintain that status for the rest of our lives. What I saw as one small detail, God saw as a way to bless me for a lifetime with a friend who truly is closer than a sister.
You never know when God is in the details.

Ganache - Chocolate of the gods

2010-07-07T12:05:00.008-05:00

It's true. The stuff is heavenly. Indulgent. Some might say sinful. Plus, it's one of the most addictive foods known to man...or at least, to my man.
I love to pour ganache over a cake iced with cream cheese icing. It cools as it slides down the sides, lending an elegent touch. It's delicious on strawberries and raspberries, too. And although I haven't tried it yet, I'm sure it would be divine on cheesecake. If you let it cool, then whip it with a hand mixer, it makes a decadent cake filling.
My husband's favorite way of eating it is by the spoonful, straight out of the fridge. With that in mind, I sometimes roll it into truffles and coat them in cocoa. They don't ship well, as my literary agent recently discovered, but they sure taste good.
The recipe I developed requires top-secret security clearance, but you can great recipes for ganache online.

Little Einsteins Rocket Cake

2010-06-30T09:37:00.005-05:00

Just to mix things up a bit, here's the first cake I ever attempted for my kids' birthdays: Rocket from the Little Einsteins.

I made this cake before I learned how to use fondant, so everything you see—except, of course, the Leo, Annie, June and Quincy toys in front and the cherry lollypop on top—is buttercream. To get buttercream this smooth, I used a little trick from my mentor involving a water misting bottle and an icing blade. Took a long time, but for my first fun/character cake, it turned out okay.

Daddy, Read the Next One

2010-06-29T20:26:00.008-05:00

My husband reads our children a chapter each night from The Jesus Storybook Bible. Tonight our son hung on his every word as Daddy read about Jesus' death on the cross. The chapter ended with the stone sealing up the tomb.
Normally, Doug will read one chapter, then the kids will pray together. Then I take over and read a chapter from a children's book (we're currently re-reading Little House on the Prairie), pray over them, and tuck them in. But tonight as Doug closed the devotional book, he asked our son, "Do you know what happened to Jesus next?" Little guy couldn't remember. He begged him, "Daddy, read the next one!" So we forewent the chapter book tonight and continued reading in the devotional.
Thank goodness for the rest of the story.

Toy Story Cake

2010-06-27T12:51:00.007-05:00

My little guy's birthday party was yesterday. I created a cake for him based on Toy Story, with Andy's room as the theme. If you've never seen Toy Story, this cake will look like a random, over-loaded hodgepodge of mismatched toys. But if you've seen any of the three movies, you'll understand just how essential the characters are.
My design isn't original (you can find other similar cakes online), but the execution and construction was unique.
The cake is two layers of 9x13 sheet cake, iced with buttercream (chocolate filling), and then covered in fondant. Most folks only use a crumb coat under fondant, but my family doesn't care much for how fondant tastes, so I ice with buttercream or cream cheese icing. That way my husband can just peel the fondant right off. It's the best of both worlds: a cake with the yumminess of buttercream or cream cheese icing combined with the design flexibility and wonders of fondant.
Aside from the toys, which were part of my son's birthday presents, every part of this cake's structure is edible...except a few strategically-placed toothpicks, used as anchors. That's one of the true challenges in cake decorating.
I constructed the headboard from a sheet of matzah, large pretzel sticks and gummy candy balls, all rolled in a fondant/gumpaste mixture. The pillow is a small sliver of cake, again rolled in fondant. The sheets, blanket, rug, and letters are also fondant.

The Truest Friend

2010-06-21T23:06:00.007-05:00

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.
- George Washington

I have precious few true friends, with whom I can confide anything, knowing they will not judge or betray. In fact, I can probably count them on my fingers. That small number stands in stark contrast with my "friends" count on Facebook, currently nearing 600. And that's just fine with me.
Association is not the same thing as friendship. In this respect, many social networking sites have become glaring self-contradictions. Marketing on the individual's need for companionship, they've conveniently, perhaps subconsciously, mislabeled all our associations as friends. But is that true? Have the folks on your friends list truly earned the title?
If we're honest, I think we would all have to say we've allowed the word friend to become too commonplace, diluting its value to the point of near-worthlessness. And part of me wishes Facebook would change that label, for the good of society. Don't get me wrong. I value my Facebook friends. But I also know that there's something more precious. Just as our first Commander in Chief said,"True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation."
Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, et al, will only sustain you so far in filling that lonely void of companionship that we all feel, keenly at times. Even true friends can fail us or have their own issues that keep them from always being there when we need a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. There's only one true cure for loneliness. I've found Him. I don't always cultivate my relationship with Him like I should. But He is always there. He will never leave me nor forsake me.
So why do I spend so much time commenting on Facebook statuses and tweeting on Twitter, when the friendship of a lifetime is waiting right here, in my Bible and in prayer?

How Not to Look Like a Moron

2010-06-20T19:30:00.006-05:00

Pay attention, folks, because I'm going to give you a piece of advice that, if heeded, will keep you from looking like a socially inept moron and possibly extend the length of your life (or at least keep it from being cut short). You ready? Good.
You're just absolutely sure that little bump under her top is a pea in the pod. And sure, you think she has a lovely glow that could only mean motherhood. Perhaps you pride yourself on your ability to spot a pregnant belly earlier than anyone else can. Fine. Now listen to me:
NEVER ever ever ever ask a woman, "when are you due?" Or the more obvious, "are you pregnant?"
I don't care if she looks like a beached whale and you could have sworn you just saw something kick. There is at least a 50% chance that she will NOT be pregnant, and you will have unwittingly told her that she looks...well...pregnant...which translates to fat. And even if she IS pregnant, she'll never be as far along as you think she is, and she won't enjoy thinking she looks as far along as you think she does. Trust me.
And if you think your radar picks up pregnant woman and decide to throw caution to the wind and make this terrible social snafu, and she turns out to (surprise!) not be pregnant, whatever you do, DO NOT follow up with, "are you sure?"
Got that? Excellent! You will probably live a long and fruitful life.

All I Need?

2010-06-16T14:58:00.005-05:00

Lord, I know you're all I have,
but I don't know You well enough
for you to be all I need.

-Dr. Larry Crabb in Finding God

My friend Sam told me this quote probably 10 years ago. It stuck with me, and I have often reflected on the simple, yet profound truth of it.
People fail us. We fail ourselves. But God will never do that. He'll never leave us or forsake us. Do we know Him well enough to trust Him at His word? This is probably my greatest struggle of all: trust. Trust that He'll be there to catch me when I fall. Trust that He'll wipe away the tears, heal the hurts, protect the innocent.
There are really only a few ways to get to know Him this well, and they all require spending time with Him--reading in His word, talking to Him, and spending time with those who reflect His image.
Lord, help me know You well enough.

A Broken Collection

2010-06-15T22:04:00.007-05:00

The Lord has been excavating my soul of late, unearthing childhood wounds so that He can apply the healing they desperately need. Through this process, He has made me more sensitive to the presence of similar wounds in others.
I have come to the conclusion that we are all broken. Every last one of us. Some are scarred by childhood abuse and neglect, most have self-inflicted wounds, carved by our own choices. The bottom line is that every last one of us is broken in some way by sin.
The Bible says we're all broken. Damaged. Scratched and scarred. Marred and blemished in some way (Rom 3:23). And there's nothing we can do about it. Absolutely nothing.
Then along comes the Lord. For some reason inconceivable to us, He really likes damaged goods.

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
-Psalm 34:18

Scripture states this again and again (Ps 147:3), even in prophetic messages about Jesus the Messiah (Is 61:1). Come to think of it, Jesus even said that He came specifically for the broken, not the perfect (Mt 9:12-13, Lk 5:31-32, Mk 2:17)
Barbara Bloom once wrote, “When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something’s suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.”
The Lord is like that. He searches out the damaged pieces. He uses the broken, filling in the fractures with His glory and redemption. What a strange Collector God is. And I'm so glad He found a place in His collection for me.

The Birthday Gift

2010-06-09T21:52:00.005-05:00

Check out this dialogue from my house this morning. Keep in mind that my daughter is five, and my son is three. I've left out their names to protect them:
Daughter: Mommy, are you 36 today?
Me: Yes!
Daughter: When people get really old, they shrink a little.
Me: That’s true. But I’m not really old.
Son: When you get really old, you die. Are you going to die now, Mommy.
Me: No! I’ve got a long time left to live, Buddy. And so do you.
Daughter: Mommy, do you know Mamaw and Papaw’s neighbor?
Me: Evelyn?
Daughter: Yeah. She’s really old, and she said she shrank a little!
Me: *laughing* Well, I haven’t shrunk any yet. You know, you’re not really old until you’re like 90.
Daughter (I think): Do you die when you’re 90? (or something like that)
Me: Well, some people live to be over 100.
Daughter: Do people live to be a million or a billion? (Stay with me here, it’s about to get amazingly good, I promise.)
Me: No, people don’t live that long. But before the flood, people sometimes lived to be 700-and-some years old.
Son: When will heaven come down?
Me: When Jesus comes back.
Son: Is Jesus here now?
Daughter: No, silly!
Me: He hasn’t come back yet, but He is here. He lives in your heart if you believe in Him. Do you believe in Him, Son?
Son: Yeah.
Me: Do you want to ask Him to live in your heart?
Son: Yeah. Live in my heart, Jesus.
Me: Come here, baby. Do you want to pray and ask Jesus to be your God?
Son (on my lap): Yeah.
Me: Well, let's do that. I can help you pray it.
Son: Okay
Me and Son: Jesus, I know I’ve sinned. I’m not perfect. But you died for me and paid for my sins. Come live in my heart and be my God forever. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
How awesome was that?? And ON MY BIRTHDAY!! I told him, “Buddy, this is the best present Mommy could ever have gotten, to have you ask Jesus to live in your heart.” He was very pleased.

Robes for Rags

2010-06-07T22:47:00.003-05:00

I'm really thankful that the Lord doesn't just leave us to our own demise. He embraces us when we're filthy and willingly trades His robes for our rags, His righteousness for our stench.
So what's the catch? He won't force us to hand them over. He simply and patiently waits, gently prompting but never forcing, until we're ready.
Why don't we hand them over more willingly? Why do we hold onto our junk when we could give it all to Him and walk in complete freedom?

Disillusionment

2010-06-01T15:30:00.003-05:00

Years ago my pastor told me that disillusionment is a good thing and not to be avoided, because it means we're being delivered from an illusion. So now, when I feel disillusioned, I try to stop and thank the Lord for delivering me from the deceit. It still hurts, especially when we're feeling disillusioned with a friend or family member...even a long-held dream, but there's freedom if you take the time to find it.

When Faith Wears Thin

2010-05-28T10:21:00.006-05:00

A friend mentioned a Twila Paris song on facebook today, and I pulled up a few of her melodies on youtube because I hadn't heard them in a while. I have said many times that there has been a Twila Paris song for every season of my life thus far. Typically, she releases them a year or so before they reach and anchor me. Perhaps her lifewalk with Christ is a few paces ahead of mine. Regardless, her songs are milestones the Lord has often used to encourage and even navigate me on this narrow path.
Do I Trust You is one of her earliest, and it touched me in a powerful way as a new Christian. Listening to it again today, some 20 years later, I remembered that sweet wonder I had in Him, in all His awesomeness and limitless power and love. And I realized that I have lost a great deal of my joy somewhere along the way.
I know much more of the Word than I did at the age of 16, when I first heard that song. Sadly, I also know more of this world. Some of what I know, I wish I could forget. Life can sometimes wear thin patches in your faith that aren't neatly mended by "doctrine and theology." I think that's why the lines of Do I Trust You struck a chord within me again today. I think you'll understand what I mean if you listen to it, so here's the song, and here are the lyrics.

When Politics and Worship Intersect

2010-05-27T09:59:00.006-05:00

If you read my last blog post, you know that we had a...let's call it interesting...corporate confession at my church Sunday. Here's the text, for those who did not read my last post:

Now is the time for fasting and prayer begging our Father's forgiveness for destroying his creation with our carelessness and greed. We are all guilty. Have mercy on this country, O Lord. Free us from our addiction. Restore your ocean. Amen.

Honestly, I was dumbfounded, and I'm still processing it, four days later. The more I meditate on it and pray about it, the more troubled I feel. I think what concerns me most about this incident was the way it was sprung on the entire congregation in the middle of our service, replacing the confession printed in our bulletin, and incorporated as part of the order of worship, in which everyone in the church was expected (per tradition) to confess it jointly.
I welcome dialogue about political and social issues and have frequently engaged in such discussions over dinner and in small gatherings, and regularly do so on social websites like facebook and twitter. But is a formal worship service the proper venue for introducing such a polarizing political subject to the church? Did anyone ask if this was an appropriate subject for our corporate confession? And who answered? Where is the opportunity for dialogue? In this case, it felt very much like a political agenda was being thrust upon the entire congregation, without regard for the fact that probably half of that congregation disagrees with the conclusions made in the confession at hand. There was no room for dialogue except after the fact, and that seems a little late, for me.
We were informed at the introduction to this confession that a member, moved by current events, penned it. I say bravo for their ability to articulate their raw emotions and opinions concisely and pointedly in what they may well consider a heartfelt prayer to God. But who decided that this confession was appropriate for the entire body?
Does this mean that the rest of the church's members are also at liberty to write confessions for our body, based on what moves us individually, and are free to present these confessions for corporate prayer? Should we expect everyone else in the congregation to share our convictions?
I am aware that our particular body represents a broad spectrum of political and social opinions. Some I personally agree with, and some I don't. But until last Sunday, I never once felt that any particular opinion or agenda was being endorsed by my church. That has suddenly changed.
Before I close, I would like to make clear that I have a great deal of respect for my church's leadership. They have always struck me as the type of leaders who put a great deal of forethought and consideration into every decision. Perhaps that is what makes this incident all the more disconcerting.
I would love to know your thoughts on this.

Politics in the Pews

2010-05-25T19:22:00.008-05:00

I go to a church that utilizes corporate confession in our service every Sunday. The confessions are often pulled from the Westminster Confession or the like, and a great deal of thought is put into them. This Sunday's confession was different. Projected on the overhead as usual, it was penned by one of our congregants and accompanied by a picture of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill:

Now is the time for fasting and prayer begging our Father's forgiveness for destroying his creation with our carelessness and greed. We are all guilty. Have mercy on this country, O Lord. Free us from our addiction. Restore your ocean. Amen.

This confession troubled an untold number of our congregation. Some took issue with the fact that corporate confession was being used for something...well...corporate, rather than dealing with our individual sins. However, I had no problem with that. My background includes experience with both corporate and identificational repentance, and I am comfortable with the concept of repenting corporately for the sins of our nation, our culture, our church, and so on. True Christianity is corporate in nature, and that corporate nature is rooted in the Hebrew foundation of our faith. The western Church has individualized our walk with Christ to the point that we've lost sight of the fact that each person is only one cell in the vast body of Christ. So I got it. I think that's the problem. I understood exactly what was going on. We were supposed to be repenting for our sins.
A discussion ensued today on facebook. One friend pointed out that the Gulf catastrophe was rooted in the greed and carelessness of a corporation. But the confession did not say that. We were not led in a prayer of repentance on behalf of British Petroleum. It specifically said, "...our carelessness and greed. We are all guilty. Have mercy on this country, O Lord. Free us from our addiction..."
Whose carelessness and greed? Not BP's...not according to the confession. And that leaves "this country."
Whose addiction? Our country's.
Our greed and addiction to what? Oil.
I've heard the term "oil addiction" in political debates about the environment enough times to recognize the term as a very political one when it appeared, thinly veiled, on our church projector screen Sunday. The chosen wording lended itself heavily to a liberal political interpretation, and I personally don't think the church should make room for politics, either way.
Bottom line: it felt political, and a little icky because of that...I couldn't help but think when I first heard it, "why are we as a body taking sides in environmentalism?"
Will we next repent as a body for global warming? Or let's strike more toward my personal side of the political fence and ask if we're going to repent corporately for the countless lives lost to abortion...that's an even greater travesty in the eyes of God than the Gulf catastrophe, in my opinion...
See where it could go, and how quickly? This is why it felt icky to me.
If the church is going to participate in corporate repentance, I think we should take a close look at WHAT we repent for, and WHY. Does our nation need to repent for using fossil fuels? Is that biblical? Being poor stewards of the Lord's creation, yes, I can see that as a biblical subject for repentance. But oil addiction? How about our addiction to abortion for convenience...or pornography?
Don't get me wrong. I'm horrified by what's happened to our beautiful Gulf, but I disagree with labeling this as a sin that deserves to rest on the conscience of the nation and the church as a whole, when greater (translated: more scripturally proven) sins are effectively being ignored.

Cussing Versus Cursing

2010-05-03T13:20:00.004-05:00

A Christian friend wrote a blog post today about using foul language or "curse words." You can read his post here. He brought up many interesting points, one of which I'd like to extrapolate on.
My friend wrote that when condemning "salty language," folks often refer to James 3:9:

With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness.

I do agree that the use of foul language should be avoided. I must say, however, that anyone who uses James 3:9 as a reference for the condemnation of foul language is missing the point of this passage entirely. That verse has NOTHING to do with what we've come to call "curse words," or "cuss words." "Cursing" in Scripture is NOT saying d*mn, sh*t or h*ll. In Scripture, cursing is speaking death to yourself or another person.
Which of these two examples do you think is a curse?
a) "Damnit!"
or
b) "John is useless. He'll never amount to anything."
If you said "b," you'd be right.
There are many "Christians" who would never use a "curse word," but who speak death over their kids - telling them they won't amount to anything, or that they're stupid - or criticizing their spouse. They won't "cuss," but they'll run the pastor or their employer into the ground with their gossip. The Hebrew word for gossip is "lashon hara," which really means "evil tongue," and it's considered a form of murder.
They use their tongue to praise God, then turn around and use it to curse those who were made in God's likeness. Yeah, that sounds like James 3:9 to me. That's just the sort of self-righteousness Jesus talked about that amounts to a whitewashed tomb. Really pretty on the outside (no cuss words!), but full of death.
Cursing is something we all do. Try going a day without speaking death - without saying you hate your job, or that you'll never get that promotion. Try not telling your kids that they never listen, or telling your best friend that your husband will never change. Try going a day without saying you'll never lose that last ten pounds.
Each of those things is a curse. Scripture tells us to choose life (Deuteronomy 30:18-20), to bless others and not curse them (Romans 12:14). It tells us that life and death are in the power of the tongue (Proverbs 18:21).
James 1:19 tells us to be slow to speak. That's great advice. A few verses later (1:26), James refers to the person who thinks he is righteous but does not bridle his tongue. He goes on in chapter 3 to compare the tongue to the rudder of a ship, able to steer the whole person to either death or life.
Refraining from words of death or cursing feels like the impossible challenge (believe me, I know this personally...it's a daily struggle for me), but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Yes, we're still human and will still fail, even if we are saved by grace and faith in Christ. But in watching every word that proceeds from our mouths, we begin to walk that redemptive lifestyle, to walk out our salvation in a way that will produce good fruit.
So the next time you hear someone use a "cuss word" (or use one yourself) and start to bristle about it, stop and ask yourself when was the last time you truly cursed (in the Biblical sense) - either yourself or someone else. If you're honest with yourself, the truth might be sobering. A stray cuss word seems so trivial in light of what a real curse is and what it can do. What's worse? A cuss word, or a word of ridicule? A word that offends the sensibilities, or a word that wounds the heart? Even secular psychologists understand this very biblical concept. For example, in this short secular article from USAToday, experts discuss the long-term effects that hurtful words from a parent or teacher can have on a child.
I'm a little less concerned now with the use of "cuss words," and a lot more concerned with speaking life and blessing. I want to tell my children that they can be Godly, that they can make a huge difference in this world. I want to make sure that I praise them for acheivements, for choosing to do good, to obey or listen. I want to reinforce the fact that they are a blessing, not because of how they perform, but just because they are. I want to make a point to tell my husband that he's a wonderful husband and provider, and give him concrete examples on a regular basis to build him up. I want to speak life into situations, not death. I might stumble and fall, but I'll get right back up - with Jesus' help - and speak life again.
Would you like to join me?

When Literature Comes to Life

2010-05-01T22:31:00.007-05:00

Yesterday I wrote about our discovery of the ducklings at the park, and how excited my kids were to see what we had read about in The Trumpet of the Swan, by E. B. White.
Well, it gets better.
The same day we went to the park and saw the ducks, we went to Costco. That's really not such a big deal, I know, but my kids are hooked on the free samples, so they were excited. But the real excitement that day wasn't in the store, but in the parking lot. When we drove toward the Costco entrance, we spotted this:

Yes, that is a Canada Goose nesting on an "island" in the parking lot. There is a run-off pond below the Costco parking lot, and several geese have made this location their summer home.
Her mate stood protectively nearby. He hissed at us quite a bit when we stopped our van and took a better look at them. The children were beside themselves with delight at getting to see a goose, the closest thing we have in our area to a swan, nesting just like in our chapter book.
We made a point to drive by and see her several more times. Just a few days ago, we drove by and the nest was abandoned. I got out of the van and took a closer look, and several egg shells were there, but no whole eggs. Apparently, the goslings had hatched.
So we drove to a parking lot that bordered the run-off pond and found the goose family at the water's edge. The geese were alarmed to see humans coming toward them, and they hurried their goslings into the water where they'd be safe from the perceived threat.

The children counted eight goslings altogether.
On our way back to the car, we were confronted by a large goose. He spread his wings and drew close. The children stood behind me, and I extended my arms in what I figured was a similar gesture to his. He closed his wings, eyed me, and backed up. I guess I was a bigger bird than him.
It's amazing what a child can learn about our world through reading. Have you read to your child today?

A Bestest Day

2010-04-30T22:28:00.009-05:00

I love it when real life and literature intersect. And they did beautifully last week.
I believe I've mentioned before that I'm currently reading The Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White to my children. We had just read about the mother swan building a nest, sitting on the eggs for 35 days, and the cygnets (baby swans) hatching out. The next day when we were leaving a play date at a local park, a beautiful opportunity presented itself in which I could bring that book to life for my children. We passed a pond, and I spotted some ducklings following their mother across the street. I pulled over, got the kids out of the car, and we went for a nature walk.
A couple geese plucked grass next to the pond. When we approached, one postured and flapped his wings to look intimidating toward us, much as the cob (the father swan) did in the chapter book to ward off intruders.

Turtles sunned on a log in the water, and my children quickly learned what it means to be quiet when observing wildlife when the turtles vanished into the water at the sounds of their voices. It took several patient minutes of silent waiting for them to re-emerge for us to get this shot.

And we found the ducklings.

My children were delighted, their little voices shrill with excitement as they watched the little ducks swim in the water, then climb ashore at their mother's summons and huddle together to enjoy the mid-April sunshine.
As we headed home, my daughter declared it one of the bestest days ever. Yes, sweetheart, it certainly was.

Worldview Myopia

2010-04-27T16:15:00.002-05:00

I find it ironic how willingly blind humans are to our own faults, while seeing entirely too clearly the shortcomings in others. This worldview myopia affects each of us. No one is immune. Conservatives, liberals and independents. Christians, Jews and Muslims. Protestants and Catholics. Men and women. Heterosexuals and homosexuals. Whites, Blacks, Hispanics. Citizens and illegal immigrants. Any other groups pitted against each other by differing opinions, goals, and beliefs. Every segment of society is guilty. Those most infected with the disease often are in the greatest denial.
I'm not preaching tolerance and "let's all just get along" at all costs. I'm not encouraging relativism and "truth as you see it." I'm just making an observation about myself and everyone around me after reading an interesting thread on Facebook.