cows are not Holy

I like to think I'm mellowing as I age, and in some ways, I am. Things don't agitate me as much as they did when I was younger and my feathers aren't as easily ruffled. Sometimes I look inside and I actually think, (with a contented sigh) ahhh, you are finally softening...you are becoming a Jane Bennet sort of person; someone who is soft, gentle, sweet, quiet, feminine....

But then? Then something comes along that ruffles not only my feathers but my heart and soul as well and Jane disappears. Completely.

Take the other night for example. Our house was full of people; we were relaxed, laughing, teasing each other and talking about anything and everything. Suddenly someone in the room started to blurt out: "Holy C....!"

When I heard, that something inside me snapped. I'm sorry if I upset you by typing a not-so-nice word here but crap is not holy. Cows are not holy. Mackerel are not holy. It deeply offends me and hurts my heart when I hear the word "holy" used in connection with those words- I let that speaker know it and, unfortunately, I was not quiet or sweet or gentle about it.

There is only one Being who is Holy and I don't think describing cows, fish, or bodily functions with the same word the bible uses to describe Him pleases His heart.

I love the way Webster's 1828 dictionary defines Holy:

HO'LY, a.

1. Properly, whole, entire or perfect, in a moral sense. Hence, pure in heart, temper or dispositions; free from sin and sinful affections. Applied to the Supreme Being, holy signifies perfectly pure, immaculate and complete in moral character;

Have we as Christians become so corrupt, so cold, so lethargic, that we are willing to ignore the power of that word and link it to cows?? To crap? To fish?

Have we lost the sense of who God is? His purity? His perfection? His righteousness? Do we not care that He died a horrible, horrible death to make us Holy as well? Because He loves us?

He is Holy and He wants us Holy. It seems to me, when we take the word Holy lightly and use it to describe anything other than God, we are practically slapping Jesus in the face. We're telling Him His life on earth, His horrendous death and His endless love for us are insignificant.

He is so Holy that for all, all, all of eternity it is going to be broadcast day and night for forever:

Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying: " 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,' who was, and is, and is to come."

Revelation 4:8

so let it be written, so let it be done

Does God ever speak to your heart? Do you ever hear His still, quiet voice shouting at you from somewhere deep inside telling you to do something you may or may not want to do?

He did that to me when I was 19. He told me to homeschool my future children.

OK-wait. Please don't leave because you think that's what this post is about. It is, but it isn't. And please don't leave because you think I'm crazy. God does speak to our hearts.

When He told me to homeschool I was thrilled. I've always loved babies and children and the thought of being able to teach my own? At home? I was so excited I could hardly wait.

Finally the day came and my oldest son was ready for kindergarten. No longer was I purely excited, I was "just a tad" nervous. The reality of what I was about to do hit me and I realized I could completely mess up this boy's entire life. So, we decided to take it one year at a time. Kindergarten. I could handle that. A B C's and 1 2 3's. No problem. I knew those by heart.

Then first grade. Well, I know how to read and I can add 2 +2, so off we went and again, no problem. We managed to make it through the first several years taking it one year at a time. I had no idea I was in it for the long haul and in my mind I could always back out if it got too hard.

Well, when that boy hit 8th or 9th grade it not only got too hard for me to teach him, it was impossible. I could not do it. Literally. For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, (one of my favorite quotes, btw :-) ) I think I only have about a 7th grade education. Don't splutter at me. I'm dead serious. There is no way I could pass a college entrance exam. I've never learned algebra, never learned chemistry, I couldn't diagram a sentence if you put a gun to my head, and here's the really embarrassing one, I actually flunked high school biology.

So, when our son hit high school and God was still whispering to my heart, homeschool this boy...keep going....obey me....I almost lost it. I was no longer just a tad nervous. I was terrified. I had visions of my son standing on a street corner holding a sign that said, "Please feed me. My mom homeschooled me."

In a nutshell, our sons ended up teaching themselves throughout high school. I handed them the books and said, "learn all this." My heart was overwhelmed-I felt so guilty. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do....but, I knew that I knew that I knew this was what God wanted.

As our sons struggled along, I did what I could. I encouraged them. I prayed for them. I baked cookies for them. I prayed for them. I told them they could do it. I prayed for them. I reminded God over and over again that this was His problem. They were His problem. I dumped our sons in His lap and stepped back, asking Him to see them through.

In all honesty, I was not the Queen of Faith. I cried. I acquired many grey hairs. But, in the end? In the end we all learned that God is faithful to finish what He starts in us. He is faithful to see us through something He tells us to do because, after all, He wants it done.

Our sons not only learned the curriculum. They learned how to study. They learned how to research. They learned how to persevere when something is overwhelming.

Our oldest son said this experience prepared him for college in a way nothing else could. College professors don't hold hands with their students all the way through. They hand them the curriculum and say, "learn all this." It's up to the students to study; to research; to persevere.

To make a long story short, we did it. Actually God did it, and that's what this post is about. God's faithfulness. His doing what He told us to do when He knew it was something we could only do if He did it.

i know you believe you understand what you think i said, but i'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what i meant

Do you have a favorite clothing item you wouldn't give up for all the fish 'n chips in England?

A few months ago my husband and I drove to town for some un-remembered, unrelated-to-this-story reason. As the miles passed under the tires I started thinking about the man sitting next to me and what he means to me.

"Mike, you are like a favorite, ratty old sweater, or my favorite pair of sneakers."

For some reason, he took that as an insult. I meant it as the highest compliment a wife could pay her husband and he took it wrong. He was so perturbed he wouldn't even listen to my explanation. So, since he won't listen to me, I've decided to explain it to you; maybe you'll understand?

Let's start with the favorite, ratty old sweater. I don't have one. But, I do have a favorite ratty old jacket. 19 years ago we went to Michigan for a family reunion/camping trip. We left here on a steamy hot July morning and headed north. The further north we drove the cooler it got. By the time we got to Michigan it was downright cold. And, guess what I hadn't packed? So, we stopped somewhere so I could pick up a jacket. It was soft, and big, and oh so comfortable. But the best part? It covered and protected me from the nasty elements.

Here it is, 19 years later and I still have that jacket. The sleeves are freyed, the zipper's a tish worn, but it's still soft, and big, and oh so comfortable. It reminds me of so many things-my entire family gathered together to love and annoy the daylights out of each other, beautiful sunsets on Lake Michigan, sitting around a campfire eating burnt hot dogs...I've worn that jacket for a very long time and we know each other. We understand each other. I keep it clean and dry and it keeps me warm and snug. See? Just like my husband. He's a little frayed around the edges, maybe a tish worn, but he's still soft, and big and comfortable and he protects me from the elements...

Now, let's take my favorite pair of sneakers. I bought them right before my back did it's crazy thing. At first they were awkward and stiff and slightly uncomfortable. We had to walk past a lot of miles before I had them broken in, but now? Now they fit well and are very comfortable; they were there for me through all the pain, all the confusion, and all the miles of healing I've gone through in the last 16 months. They were there for me before, during and after one of the hardest times in my life.

Just like my husband-we've seen a lot of miles together and he's been there for me before, during, and after a lot of the hard things in my life.

I see no reason for his feeling injured. It makes perfect sense to me. How about you? Do you understand?

these are a few of my favorite things....

The Great Blue Heron, beaver, Canadian Geese, Brown Thrashers, moose, crows, and....yes, don't hate me...squirrels.

Those are some of my favorite wild creatures.

Take this little guy for instance. He kept us amused for about a week one winter, and around here, anything that amuses us for even one day during the winter is a plus.

He would come up to that feeder and plant himself in the corner, (just like that) leaning against the edge of it with one tiny paw, acting like he owned it. He'd bend over and scoop up bird seed with his other paw and then stand there, leaning, munching to his heart's content. (or should I say stomach's?)

Anyway, even now I smile when I look at him-he's just too cute.

OK. That's it for today-I hope this gives you a quick smile too. :-)

Winter-The Longest Night

A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.

Steve Martin

I grew up in Colorado; it's not known as 'The Sunshine State', but it should be. (My mom told me when I was little that the Denver Post was so confident the sun was going to be shining every Sunday that they'd give away their Sunday edition if it wasn't.)

Colorado is such a sunny place that, after years of living there I actually got sick of the blue skies and bright days. I wanted the mystery and romance of a wet, cloudy day full of fog, rain and gloom. Can you imagine? What was I thinking? I wanted those things so badly I actually chose jolly old England as a place to go on a mission's trip.

A few years later I ended up here, in Indiana. America's England. For almost 5 months out of the year we get those wet, dark gloomy days. I'm so confident the sun won't be shining on Sundays that if I owned the Indianapolis Star I'd give away the Sunday edition if it did.

For almost 5 months out of the year it is grey here. The trees are grey. The roads are grey. The grass is grey. The skies are grey. Our moods are grey.

When I had 3 little boys at home with me I didn't really notice the grey. I was just too busy teaching, cooking, cleaning, etc. to even think about the lack of color outside.

But then my sons started doing something I wasn't very excited about. They grew up and one by one needed less of me. I didn't change-I still had the same need for challenge; the same need for something to pour me into, but I didn't know what that was.

At first I tried novels. I'd read book after book and escape into the romantic world of a fictitious girl having wonderful adventures, and dream. (popping Doves into my mouth as the pages turned.) However, that only made me fatter than I already was, lethargic, and discontent.

Finally, about 6 years ago I had a thought-why not set a goal to get me through the winter? I needed to pick something hard and challenging that I could pour me into; something that would demand my attention and most of my energy. That first year I chose my blubber. I wanted it gone. (That did the trick, btw. Winter was barely long enough for me to accomplish that goal!)

The next year I chose scrapbooking. I made two scrapbooks of my parents' lives for my brothers and again, that worked. It gave me something to focus on and the grey winter to race against. And again, I won, but barely.

Each year now I do this-I pick a goal or two and race against the gloom. Last year it was Survival. Healing. Not driving my family nuts as an invalid.

Maybe that's the reason I'm in trouble this year. I missed out on a year of challenge and my goal list? It's long. I have spiritual goals, emotional goals, physical goals, a family goal and one huge crazy goal that will most certainly demand a lot of me.

So now as I sit and think about the winter I'm almost excited. Almost. It will take more than a few goals to get me truthfully excited about winter. (Maybe like spending it on a beach somewhere?) But I am excited about my goals and the challenge they give me. They really do help me get through the longest night.

This One

This one, out of all of them, has surprised me the most.

He was such a funny, stubborn, independent little person.

opinionated.....

sweet and gentle....

he loved being outside, in the woods, alone and quiet, more than anything else in the world. (getting ready for a backpack trip in this pic.)

As he grew, his focus turned outward.

He noticed people and started caring deeply for them, especially children.

He fell in love and got married, thus giving me a daughter. (and a new granddaughter, but I don't have a picture of her on hand)

This boy, as a boy, was so independent. As a newborn he wanted to be left alone. Nursing was for filling his tummy, not security or comfort or warmth. Once his hunger was gone he'd fuss and squirm until I put him in his crib. He'd sigh, snuggle deep into the mattress and go to sleep. See what I mean? Solitude.

Even before he could walk or talk he preferred sitting in a corner, by himself, with a pile of toys instead of interacting with people. As long as we left him to his own devices he was happy.

As a young boy his favorite thing to do was spend hours and hours on our little pond, by himself, in the row boat. He'd look for turtles, fish, bugs and birds, thrilled to be alone dreaming and thinking boy things.

Sometimes I'd stand in our livingroom, looking out the window, watching him row around. "What is he thinking about? Is he praying? Hoping to catch a turtle? Thinking about math?" I'd wonder what he was going to do with his life. I knew it would involve nature and solitude. Maybe a park ranger?

I did know one thing for certain. I wanted him to go to college. As I grew up my mom and I were poor and she struggled constantly to make ends meet. We were never homeless, and never went without a meal, but living like we did was sometimes scary and sometimes painful, and sometimes just plain old hard.

That pattern continued after my husband and I married. He never went to college and we've struggled to make ends meet. We've never been homeless, and never gone without a meal, but living like we have has sometimes been scary, sometimes painful, and sometimes just plain old hard.

Rather than focusing on things eternal, like loving and serving, forgiveness and hope, I allowed fear to pull me and I pushed college. Rather than looking at our son's heart, and his strengths and gifts, and the desire he had to be with children, I pushed college. Rather than trusting God with our son's life, I pushed college.

Thankfully he ignored me. He prayed and sought and studied the Word. The Lord took that strong will, that stubborn, independent boy and now?

Now that boy lives in the inner city, surrounded by lost, hurting children and their lost hurting parents. That boy is seldom alone, seldom outside, seldom in quiet. He spends his days laying down his desires and his life, serving. Showing people there is a God who serves. Showing people there is a God who loves and cares and wants to be involved in their lives. Pointing them to the One who is the only One. The One who can heal and comfort and forgive.

God is good

God is good.

Lately I've been noticing those words a lot. They are so deeply true, but the only time I hear them is when something good has happened in someone's life. And I must admit, I think the same thing when life is right; when the sun is shining and something wonderful has happened. But what about when life is grueling? When horrible, daunting things come and you feel overwhelmed, what then? It's so hard at that moment to think, "Hey, isn't God good?"

I must admit, that has never been the first (or second or third) thing I've thought when thorny things have knocked on my door. Sometimes it takes years of looking back over my shoulder before I can see and admit God's goodness during a difficult time in life.

Lately, when I hear those words and see the circumstances under which they're used, I've wondered two things:

1. Is it possible for humans to hurt the father heart of God?

2. Do we hurt that heart when we say He's good only when life is good?

Maybe not. Maybe, because He is our Father, He understands how difficult it is for us to say, "Hey, you are wonderful!" when life isn't.

But, I think as our Father, he'd appreciate it if we would.

The bible says,

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see...

....Hebrews 11:1

And, the bible says He is good. All the time. Daytime, nighttime, lovely times, trying times. All the times. He is good.

He is good when life isn't:

The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him.

Nahum 1:7

He is good when we aren't:

Good and upright is the Lord; therefore He instructs sinners in His ways.

Psalm 25:8

He is good when life is frightening:

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him.

Psalm 34:8

He is good when it looks like He isn't:

For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all

generations.

Psalm 100:5

He is good when we don't deserve it:

The Lord is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made.

Psalm 145:9

He even has goodness stored up for us:

How abundant are the good things that you have stored up for those who fear you, that you bestow in the sight of all, on those who take refuge in You.

Psalm 31:19

Clinging to those words, those verses...remembering them as life happens rather than spotting them years after the fact...trusting Him minute by minute, when life doesn't make sense-that's my prayer. To get to the point where I can see and say "God is good" regardless...Rememebering Hebrews 11:1 even when life doesn't make sense:

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see...