City Upon A Hill

The red was on purpose!

Two Republican Nerds

Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

The Cliche Post

STORIES Photography via juleeannw on instagram

Apparently, I still haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up.

More on that later, for now, a bucket list and a poem.

✓  Take a train trip
✓  See a play on Broadway
✓  Visit Washington DC

That is, as long as I don't kick the bucket before Thursday, this week.



Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision in which we see ourselves on a long journey that spans an entire continent. We’re traveling by train and, from the windows, we drink in the passing scenes of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at crossings, of cattle grazing in distant pastures, of smoke pouring from power plants, of row upon row upon row of cotton and corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of city skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our conscious minds is our final destination–for at a certain hour and on a given day, our train will finally pull into the Station with bells ringing, flags waving, and bands playing. And once that day comes, so many wonderful dreams will come true. So restlessly, we pace the aisles and count the miles, peering ahead, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Station.
“Yes, when we reach the Station, that will be it!” we promise ourselves. “When we’re eighteen. . . win that promotion. . . put the last kid through college. . . buy that Mercedes-Benz. . . have a nest egg for retirement!”
From that day on we will all live happily ever after.

Sooner or later, however, we must realize there is no Station in this life, no one earthly place to arrive at once and for all. The journey is the joy. The Station is an illusion–it constantly outdistances us. Yesterday’s a memory, tomorrow’s a dream. Yesterday belongs to a history, tomorrow belongs to God. Yesterday’s a fading sunset, tomorrow’s a faint sunrise. Only today is there light enough to love and live.
So, gently close the door on yesterday and throw the key away. It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad, but rather regret over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who would rob us of today. ~ Robert J Hastings

Give1Save1

Breaking all the  5-minute Friday rules and posting my daughter's writing from Thursday! I hope you all don't mind, it's a great concept this giving and sharing on the internet. Feel free to pass this along and/or give them $1 (or more) to help them adopt from the Congo. God bless you all today and thank you.


I keep imagining what it will feel like when we hold our baby for the first time.  It will be such a different experience than with our first.  After a c-section, I couldn't feel (physically) much of anything when they handed Max to me.  I could, however feel my heart exploding in my chest.  I could feel the way his skin felt against my face.  I could feel the weight of the responsibility that was now mine. 

This time though, we will walk into an orphanage on the other side of the world, we will walk into a room, we will be handed our baby.  How will THAT feel?  Now, knowing what it's like to be a mother, I will probably be overwhelmed by this moment.  I didn't cry when they handed Max to me,  maybe because I didn't know how much I would love him, maybe because I was numb (literally), maybe because the labor was over and that just made me happy...who knows why.  This time, I will cry.  Because I know.  I know what it's like to stay up nights with a sick baby.  I know what it's like to have them wrap their little arms around my neck and say "wuv you mommy!" I know a mother's love.  I will sob uncontrollably.  I'm a little worried I will scare the baby.  When Tony and I went to a documentary earlier this year on adoption...we watched a scene where a family had met their baby finally after three years of waiting.  I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe.  Tony had to ask me if I was gonna be ok.  I am so moved by the bond of family.  And those people were strangers. 

About half of the people that have donated to our adoption, are also strangers.  Not anymore.  They have linked themselves to our family for all time.  They are moved by the bond of family too...and they have made an impact on ours forever.  

Our friends, family and strangers have blessed us with a total of 1,196 today! I thought the first few days would be really great and then the giving might taper off as people got sick of sharing our site :) But that is human thinking, and humans are clearly not running the show.  The almighty God of the universe is.  Thank God for that.  And thank God for you.

Two more days team! Share us! You are making a huge difference. Huge.


1. Read their story here:              http://give1save1africa.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-schmid-family.html

2. Give to their cause here:         https://purecharity.com/tonyjenschmid-adoption

3. Paypal on blog sidebar here:   http://beforeandafrica.blogspot.com

Linking today with:

Family Farm Fun Post #1

Would you consider a $1 donation to help this family {my daughter, SIL, and grandson} adopt a baby from the Congo?

1. Donate here:     https://www.purecharity.com/tonyjenschmid-adoption

2. Read their story here:     http://beforeandafrica.blogspot.com

 3. Share their story with this link: {Featured family Sept 2 - 7} 
                      http://give1save1africa.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-schmid-family.html

 4. Watch their video here:

Our Adoption from Jennifer Schmid on Vimeo.

It's been a long hard summer.  I'm {somewhat} still recouperating from breast cancer surgery, and 15 days into my 5 years on Femura.

So I needed a big chill and who better than a house full of family.  I even played the breast cancer card and made everyone sit still for a photo.

Let everything I do and every word I say point back to You!

I'm blessed and grateful.

You will go out in joy

 and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills

    will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field

    will clap their hands.

Isaiah 55:12

Linking up today with:

Living On A Farm

While the sun creeps up over pristine green beans, and casts a pink hue on the grey barns, I sit with my 85 year old dad.  Mom left for the day and he seems lonely.

Why wouldn't he?  They've been together since 1952. They have 5 children, 12 grand children and their 7 spouses, and 10 almost 14 great grandchildren.

The farmer and the farmer's wife.

We reminisce about reunions (happy birthday cousin Marcia) and life on the farm then and now. Today he'll mow the yard, vacuum the cottage for his bride, and think on the past, with bright hope for the future ever on his mind.

A full life even through the storms.

Me and my Mr. live in the big house right next door and every morning I see them, leaning over their bibles, trying to get closer to the light. They drink their coffee, pray and live content. Another  day traveling together. On the farm.

Mom took an abundance of great grand kid's clothes to her friends' garage sale. One of her granddaughters is adopting a baby from the Congo and other grandchildren donated their arsenal of baby clothes to help raise funds for the adoption.

This unnamed baby along with great grand babies #11 (due any minute) #12 (due in November) and #13 (due in January) may meet great grandma and grandpa Lloyd and Thelma, on occasion.

We will tell them story upon story, so that, the farmer and his wife's legacy of faith, work, laughter, tears, life and love will be passed on throughout the generations.

Linking today with Lisa-Jo Baker and the gals over at 5-minute Friday

Markers And Advocates

Summer 2013.

A marker in my life for sure!  

We're in the middle of deciding if I will "do" a round of chemo and then the "5-year pill"  Sorry, I don't do technical terms.  Or if I will fore go the chemo and just opt for the hormone therapy pill.

So today I sit for practically a full day of testing to help make that determination.  Just like surgery day there are lots of markers.  A wrist band, right or left side,? what's your birthday?
Them determining who I am and then marking the vials, and the charts.

The technicians tell me, "Lay very still, take a deep breath and hold it, we'll only take a few more then you'll be outta here. We'll get the results to your doctor. Advocates.

Many other situations have come knocking this summer. The least of these is not the water situation we've been having at the farm. 

Right after a brand new water purifier system, we received a new meter. It's a long story but basically it was determined there was a leak somewhere along the line. So we walked the road along the farm, with water dowsing sticks.  We looked for soft spots, and bubbling brooks, we tweaked all the appliances, we racked our brains, we blamed the new water system, and  we grew more and more  frustrated. 

At our wit's end, sandwiched between dr visits, and surgery, and moments before calling a water doctor from the big city who would come with stethoscopes, monitors, and a hefty invoice we called the local plumber, Carl.

Carl came up the drive and stated, "We'll find your problem ... today." Almost the best words of encouragement I've heard in the last month and 1/2. This simple statement gave me renewed hope. We would put our trust in Carl. 

A couple times during his investigation, he would calmly state, "We're gonna get to the bottom of this ... today." I don't want to place blame, but the new meter read that we had consumed  1/2 of a water tower in one month. We either had a major leak or we were soon to disappear in a large sink hole.

We got out the witching sticks again, and red flagged the whole 2 acres ... where we thought the water pipes crisscrossed the lawn.  More markers.

Carl found no leak, so we asked him to put that in writing. But he wasn't ready to leave us to fend for ourselves at a town hall meeting.  He wanted to find the source of the problem. So with combinations too numerous to even count we started a meter, appliance, mechanical quest to get to the bottom of our problem.

Late in the day, with the dream team of "the town," the meter distributor, and Carl, it was determined the meter was reading in one's and it shoulda been reading in tenths! Our "float a battleship" bill would be in the $100 range not $1000. 

Water Problem Solved.  Why did it take us so long to call Carl? We knew he knew his business. We were out of ideas, and we needed fresh eyes. Carl was our advocate.

The Hebrew people in the Old Testament used stones to make alters to commemorate God's provision in their lives.

Markers.

Joshua 4: 5-7 "Go over before the ark of the Lord your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites,  to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’  Tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

God has given us the Holy Spirit to help, comfort, teach, and to pray to the Father when we have no words.

Advocate.

John 14: 26-27 "All this I have spoken while still with you.  But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.  Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

I will go staight to the source, to get my answers. I will then mark the spot in my life when I saw God answer prayers.  Summer 2013.



How is God moving in your life?

Had It Not Been You

Why do girls get to preface friends with girl? Guys don't go around calling their friends boyfriends. I like that we can.

And I don't know why or if a 57 year old woman, sister, mom, mom-in-law and grandma, needs to still specify; she's my best friend.

But she is THE best friend I could ask for. And I'd give anything to have a drink with her on my porch this evening.

Happy birthday, Kate!

And then there's July 30, 1977. We've been together since way back when ... and I made this video way back then, too!

Holy 36th Anniversary Brannman1.

I love you and wouldn't want to be on this roller coaster with anyone else.

Open Door Invitation

When all the plans finally fell in place for my son-in-law to propose to our daughter on her grandparents family farm ... it went down something like this.

After a beautiful day of decorating and planning how we would help him implement getting her into the barn bay, it turned windy, cold, and extremely nasty by nightfall.

His whole family had come for the week-end and our whole family was on their way. She thought it was just our family and was sorta bummed that her boyfriend had to work that week-end.

The candles were lit, the music was playing and the soft fabric took full effect as the wind picked up.

Places everyone!


God will not come barging in the door to your heart. He could have created us to automatically love Him, but He gave us a choice. I believe He did it in a way in which no other could.  He wanted us to want Him. He wants us to choose to open the door. But there IS a door, and He will not come in without an invitation. He may have chosen us for salvation for, "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." 2 Peter 3:9 He is not willing to lose any one of the almost 7 billion of us. But the door to an intimate relationship with the creator of the universe can only be opened from within. "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me." Revelation 3:20

The plan was for him to take her on a walk down the memory lane of their lives together up to this point, including  pictures, remember when's, music, love, and laughter.

He told us to give him 1/2 hour - 45 min.

After her shock at seeing him emerge from the corner of this magical cove in her grandparents barn, and after looking at all the pictures, and dancing to Stevie Wonder, he asked her if she would spend the rest of her life with him.

He told us he would open the barn door a ways and that would be our signal to converge on their sacred site to congratulate and bring the party indoors.

As a batch of kittens played among the pickets, tugging at the fabric, and 15 pairs of eyes, and 2 sleepy babies,  watched and waited from across the driveway. Fixed totally on that barn door, wondering at every wind gust; waiting. Waiting for movement from within. Waiting for an invitation. He used every one of those 45 minutes and then the door opened, and we were invited in.

Spencer knew exactly what Melissa wanted and needed for an engagment proposal. He knew she wanted it to be thought out and romantic. He knew she would love to dance with him. He knew that having all the families there would mean the world to her.  He knew what was best for her and he orchestrated it perfectly.

He WANTS to have a relationship with us. He knows what is best for us. He wants to eat dinner with us. He wants to come in. He only needs an invitation. An open door.

















March 3, 2012

Red Door in Paris, Sept 2002

You're Lovely Even With Your Scars

I like to think I discovered stuff first.

Technically, I (we) discovered one of the first contemporary church services, and I write about it here.

I did come up with the name "Before And Africa" for my daughter's blog and she writes about that here.

I'd take all the credit for finding and keeping the love of my life, but I don't always live in the reality of truth.

More and more my reality is steeped in divine appointments, so sitting and discussing our breast cancer options in the friendly confines of the doctor's office, has come to mean just as much, if not more, than sitting along side Mark at the Willow Creek Movie theatre some 40 years ago.

Even with my most recent physical scar (which will always be a reminder that God is faithful to save, heal, and set free),  He and Mark are the reason I look at myself the way I do today. Beautiful.

It's funny, and full circle, that I've had two major surgeries in my life, both in Lafayette, IN. In a way, the first surgeries of skin grafts after my burn accident have shaped my outward appearance attitude to what it is today. I'm strong enough in my inner woman (along with Mark's strength of character) to live unaffected by the pressures of what the world considers beauty. I want to shout it from the roof-tops, I want to talk about it to each girl/woman I sit beside in a waiting room, I want my girlfriends, granddaughters, nieces, nephews, and neighbors hear me  preach  say it.

Pause here for a MOMent, and think about what your conversations, attitudes, time and money spent, are saying to your children.

Stop concentrating on your outward appearance. I've come to accept a compliment about my appearance as more of an insult.  "Oh, you look so good, have you lost weight?" means to me, "Oh, you didn't look so good a while back when you hadn't lost weight."
And right along those same lines, and even one toke over the line is the way one feels they can say, "Oh, you're so tall, or you're so skinny, and consider it a compliment. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say, "Oh, you're so short, or you're so fat!!!" Is this just me?

'Course, I'm not much for small talk, but if I go take a nap while you tell me about your exercise regime, forgive me.

If my eyes glaze over during mascara or manicure discussions, poke me when you get to some inner (wo)man discussions.

I will talk about health, but the line I won't cross is a "show and tell" about smooth skin or scars, veins or waxing,  lipo or lipstick, and tummy tucks or reconstruction.  Maybe it is just me, I can't tell or listen to birthing stories, and I can't stand to shop, either. Go figure.

Let's get over ourselves.

Philippians 2:1-4
My college sweetheart once had the whole 2nd chapter of Philippians memorized, we would all be wise to do the same 

"Now if your experience of Christ’s encouragement and love means anything to you, if you have known something of the fellowship of his Spirit, and all that it means in kindness and deep sympathy, do make my best hope for you come true! Live together in harmony, live together in love, as though you had only one mind and one spirit between you. Never act from motives of rivalry or personal vanity, but in humility think more of each other than you do of yourselves. None of you should think only of his own affairs, but should learn to see things from other people’s point of view."

Let's look inward and concentrate on these things:

Philippians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.


God looks on the heart.

I Peter 3: 2-4 ...when they see the purity and reverence of your lives, your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

Don't try so hard 

God gives you grace and you can't earn it 
Don't think that you're not worth it
Because you are
He gave you His love and He's not leaving 

Gave you His Son so you'd believe it 

You're lovely even with your scars 

Don't try so hard

 ~ Amy Grant

On July 30, we will celebrate 36 years together.  

I love you more today than yesterday, but not half as much as tomorrow. 

What is the 36th year anniversary present? Paper? Flowers? Crystal? China? Sapphire? Silver?  

I'm leaning towards paper train tickets to Broadway, or a silver retro camper.

Cicada's And All-Stars

I know it's confusing when I repost from the past.  So let's be clear ... here are a couple from from July 24 & 27, 2009.

“Typical Teenager.”

An airport agent once ushered those words to me after a stressful travel day with my daughters.  A red flag went off in my head and to this day, after prayerful consideration during that silent cross country flight home, believe there is no such thing.

But that’s a story for another day.

Let me tell you about her.  She is, by no stretch of the imagination, a typical teenager.  She has never once given me any back talk.  Nor has she broken curfew or the bank.  In fact, she’s never asked for anything.  She’s never slammed her bedroom door and yelled “I hate you!”  She’s never worn out my last nerve with the “everyone else is doing it mantra.”  She did not feel the need to rebel or get her own place. She never slept around, rolled her own cigarettes or brought home undesirables. As far as I know, she didn’t experiment with an alternative lifestyle or ever complain about my country music.  I’m positive she did not care if I wore mom jeans or blazers when we went out.  To be quite honest, I’ve never heard a derogatory word from her … ever.

I show blatant favoritism toward the others and she unselfishly waits for a mere drop of  my attention. Whether she gets it or not, she stays at my side and that is enough for her.

Of all the household members, I love her the least and she loves me the most.

As of late, she has changed me.  I watch from afar while others shower her with hugs and kisses. Despite her breath, they smother her with unconditional love.  She accepts their offers, but returns to her self appointed spot—by me—when they go.

I’ll always remember her last vacation with us on our 6-week romp at the farm.  She ran free, chased bunnies, and enjoyed every inch of the wide open spaces.  You’d think she died and gone to heaven. 

I wanted to give up on her more times than I care to mention.  She’s such an inconvenience–sitting by me, eating and sleeping. When the time comes … I will use the excuse; I don’t want her to suffer. Just this morning for the first time, I realized the inevitable. 

I love her more than I thought and can not nor will not be the one to call her name and watch her jump into the car for her last ride.

She turned 15 (105) with great expectations. 

Whoa! Almost a month & half since I’ve written here.  Never have I been one to follow the crowd, especially a blogger one.  Pretty sure my readership has dropped way off ~ don’t care. 

My lack of writing doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing, and singing, and praying, and feeling pretty good about life.  I miss the kids, though!  I miss their laughter and their hearts.  I miss their passion and their bullshit. As far as kids & Kate go it’s been a quiet summer, therefore pretty much happyhourless, as well.  That’s gonna change tonight, when I get to belly up to the new Wisenheimer Bar! Happy days are here again.

Seriously, I could blow this pop stand. I feel the need for adventure.  I want to see the usa in a chevrolet ... or a VW bus.  What is wrong with me?  People work all their lives for nice homes, and stuff to put in them--and I’m looking for a 12’ foot Shasta camper to pull to Monument Valley.

Do you hear what I hear?  Cicadas.  Hence, the post today!  I’m getting off here cuz I’ve got a lot of summer livin’ left to do. it may or may not include an estate (and I use the term loosely) sale, a dinner theatre, a bicycle trail, a Schpilke reunion, and a brand new-to-me retro camper ... but it’s my last half of summer and I’m on it.

****

Back to the future, now ... well, almost. I can't believe it's been a year since we showered Melissa. 

Lately, I'm on the couch recouperating from surgery and time travelling at will. 

Just so you know, even though Apple saw fit to cancel Mobile Me, my iWeb software still opens and there it is in black and white and technicolor.  

I can see it all on my transistor radio. 

My trip to bountiful, so far.

My Three Sons

So I've had a few things on my mind, but just wanted to pause for a moment and talk about Ben, Tony, & Spencer.

I'm blessed to call these guys my sons. One of them an original and two grafted in. Adopted, so to speak.

All of them celebrating birthdays in May, June, & July, while I do what is mine to do.

All of them are smart, funny, hard working, intuitive, crazy about sports, protective of their girls, and two of them are fantastic dads, so I have no qualms about the third.

All of them like to adventure out, are creative gift givers, love technology, to laugh, and board games.

All of them watch The Walking Dead, Lord Of The Rings, Star Wars, U of M, MSU, and the Colts. (Note: I said "watch" not "cheer on")

Did I say all of them are funny? And caring, and kind, and dog lovers, and full of faith, hope, and love.

All of them are family guys and my friends.

But most importantly, they're all in love with their Heavenly Father and on their own faith journeys, discovering new joys, learning new lessons, disciplining themselves when it counts, and living life to the full.

And I love them all like a crazy woman.

Hope they feel the same about me.

Happy birthday to all of you and I pray great blessing upon you all in the year ahead. God bless you as  you continue on the journey.

PS. Thank you.

Wake Up Call 1.2

Life, as I see it, has now changed.  No more dipsy doodling around. I am about to get to my Father's business.

No matter what the outcome of my circumstances. I believe I was created with a dream and a passion, as some of you know I've struggled with what that was.  Not anymore.

Everything I do should point back to Jesus.

First, I apologize, if I've gossiped about you, or puffed myself up to make what you're doing with your life seem less than what I'm doing with mine. If I've hurt you with words, stolen from you, misunderstood, or judged, I'm sorry. If I've neglected or abused your heart. If I thought more highly of myself then I should, I'm sorry. If I didn't support your spiritual dreams and passions, I'm sorry.

Whether God heals a lump or he uses the surgeon to get the little bugger, I'm changed.

I realize this blog doesn't have the following that some do, but I'm fixin' on Max, Lilly, & Company scrounging around, here. way off in the distant future, so bear with me. Here we go.

Often times when traveling, after checking in at a hotel front desk, the clerk would ask, "Do you need a wake-up call?"  (If you are reading here Max, Lilly, & Co, this was prior to cell phones with alarm clock apps or whatever you're using these days to communicate. The front desk clerk (real person) would ask you what time you wanted to get up, then they'd call the land line in your room to wake you. It was quite obnoxious with a heart-attack type ringer, but it worked.)

Boy I did! I was planning on a lot of things in my life.  Those lists are here and there and everywhere in the blogdom archives. But this morning I fell back asleep after rising early and I had this dream.

We (girlfriends, sisters, mostly women) were wondering around a beautiful conference center grounds, maybe a "Moody Week" or "Beauticontrol" conference was in session. I was talking with the girlfriends (some of whom have written books and spoken at women's retreats) and telling them of all my mistakes and how we weren't meant to live this way. Then suddenly the girlfriends were all gone and I was alone.  I stumbled upon a closed conference room door and heard someone say those exact words. "We weren't meant to live this way." As I drew closer and put my hear to the door, it was my voice behind the speaker. I opened the door a crack and sure enough, I woke up.

I'm going to be fine and it may only be through this blog, but I will not be quiet any longer.

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me,
Melt me, mold me, use me.
Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.

Do you need a wake-up call?

Got out the 7D for this one.

6.26.13

We're paving the way to get a new hook-up for our water, here at the farm. The guy with the back hoe who dug the swimming pool, then filled in the swimming pool started digging 1/4 mile down the south road and laid the black snake that will eventually let the flow of water from town quench our thirst, and clean us and our clothes.

There's a back story. For years, we had a well. A sulpher well. Crystal clear, and cold water. It tasted like nothing you city folks have had  save for a $2 plastic bottle of "mountain fresh" water. It was so refreshing, on a hot summer day, we'd drink right from the hydrant. Yes, crystal clear, cold and tasty. With a rotten egg smell.

So when the town brought a 3 inch pipe out to the big fertilizer plant that used to sit 1/4 mile north, dad cut catty corner across the field and hooked into that pipe. Yay, no more embarrassing comments from visitors, "What is that awful smell?" Instead, we had tasteless, sometimes rusty, city water. Water nonetheless.

But time went on, the plant was torn down and we inherited the 3inch pipe from town.  That's a lot of pipe and sediment for only two people 6 months out of the year, at the most 4 people in summer.  So what we've had, the last dozen or so years is oderless rusty water.

Soon the workers will be gone and we'll have fresh water. They paved the way for the water to flow. Oh all right, so they hit the electrical and we'll have to get the power company to patch, minor technicality. Thankfully no one was hurt. I believe there is a covering over this place.
I feel it almost every sunrise, felt it big time at family gatherings and especially on wedding days. A hovering of the spirit. Goes back many generations, even to Genesis 1:2  "Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters." Another post.
Soon it will be time to plant the grass seed over the path which was dug. The water main will silently, but effectively deliver the water to the source. We'll prepare the soil to receive the seed. Another post.

I learned today I must have a lump removed.

Oh how I need to receive a flow of God's grace. It's easy to just say it, "God give me grace, heal me, bless me!" I'm thinking there's just a bit more to it than that. I must pave the way and prepare my heart, to receive. How do I do that?

Lots of prayer, fasting, contemplating life's direction, Dr.'s appointments worship and humility (not read; low self-esteem) faith, and no fear.  Since my mind is kinda a muddled mess right now, I'm going to quote Ken Gire again today, as I continue on this earthly journey.

He gives grace to the humble, but opposes the proud.  Who are they talking about? The down and outters, the beggars, The people who had been brought so low to the ground they didn't have anywhere to look but up. When our hands are that empty and extended to heaven, then heaven will extend the grace fo us to dine with Christ and Him with us.

We are told in the Scriptures that God gives grace to just such people, to people who have been brought low and humbled (James 4:6). If that If that is true, then whatever happens in our lives to humbe us is, in the long run, a good thing, because it paves the road over which the grace of God comes to us.

Ken Gire - Seeing What Is Sacred. Thanks Ruth E., I've stayed in Chapter 3 "The Soil Of A Reflective Life" for  weeks now.

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

I am just stubborn enough to stick with this blog.

Dramatic pause.

"Every once in a while life can be very eloquent. You go along from day to day not noticing very much, not seeing or hearing very much, and then all of a sudden, when you least expect it very often, something speaks to you with such power that it catches you off guard, makes you listen whether you want to or not. Something speaks to you out of your own life with such directness that it is as if it calls you by name and forces you to look where you have not had the heart to look before, to hear something that maybe for years you have not had the wit or the courage to hear."  Frederick Buechner from  A Room To Remember

Wisdom shouts in the street,
She lifts her voice in the square;
At the head of the noisy streets she cries out;
At the entrance of the gates in the city she utters her saying.
Blessed is the man who listens to me, (wisdom)
Watching daily at my gates,
Waiting at my doorposts.
For he who finds me finds life,
And obtains favor from the Lord 
Prov. 1:20-21, 34,35

I feel like I have a pretty good eye.  I never have too much of the ceiling in my photographs and very rarely chop off a head.

I don't over decorate.  The eye needs a place to rest.  When I used to interior design, my boss lived at Hobby Lobby and TJ Maxx and I could sense the feeling we overbought with each and every client.

I can tell when there is too much going on in the room.

Creating space is not just a decorating term. It's meant for the heart, too.

Smack dab in the middle of sprucing up the farmhouse great room,  He calls for me to search my heart and make a space for Him to rest and abide with me.

In Ken Gire's book Seeing What Is Sacred he shares this;

Jesus comes to us in a thousand ways and for a thousand reasons, all of them for our good. "Behold, " He says, "I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will dine with him, and he with Me" (Revelations 3:20.)  He comes knocking on the door of our heart, any time of the night or day, and to any of us who can recognize His voice through the thickness of the wood, He makes an amazing promise.
     He promises us a meal.
     Not a lecture on nutrition.
     Not a reprimand about our eating habits.
     A meal!
He wants to eat with us.  When He comes to the door, however late He knocks, however lowly He appears in the doorway, it will be His presence that refreshes us and His words that nourish us.

Tomorrow,  I will do what is mine to do, for such a time as this.

I'll get up and get dressed.

I'll go to the doctor.

I'll touch up some paint in the great room.

I'll answer some e-mails.

I'll pay the bills.

I'll talk with my parents and text my kids.

I'll fold the wash.

I'll probably watch a bit of TV.

I will spend another day.




Today I will dine in, with Him.

Dear Max & Lilly,

I love you.

Grandma