She Made Me Smile

Riding home from church this Sunday:

My younger sister: "You know what?"

Me: "What?"

Sister: "We're pretty well set up, don't you think?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Sister: "We have everything in our church! Electricians, mechanics, doctors, nurses, lawyers, builders, politic-people, mothers, fathers, children..." (as an afterthought) "...we even have a pastor!"

I tried to hide a smile. But then she look sideways at me and grinned.

Silly Amber - your siblings are growing up! She knew she'd made a joke! :)

A Cool Thing

When was the last time you took a good look at someone close to you? A parent, for instance? Have you ever stepped back and saw your mother or father as another human, rather than your mother or father?

As I've entered into my adult years, those moments are occurring more often. I'm realizing that, just like me, Mom and Daddy are having new experiences all the time. They didn't get a practice run, to hone their skills, then decide to hit rewind and do life again - this time with kids. It doesn't work like that.

More than that - my parents are people. When was the last time I tried to get to know them as people, the way I'd try to get to know a new friend?

I thought of this tonight as I watched Mom play badminton with one of my sisters. I stood on the deck, head tilted to one side. With my eyes squinted, I could imagine I saw in the gathering dusk, not a mother, but a young girl, playing on a side lawn in New York, years ago.

From what I understand, Mom could hold her own quite nicely with the neighborhood boys in most any sport, be it softball, kickball, or ping-pong. She was quite the tomboy back then. And musical, too - spending hours practicing clarinet or guitar. Now she never plays anything - just listens to us, and encourages us to practice.

I never stopped to think, until the last few years, about mothers having hobbies. After all, is that allowed? They cook, and raise children, and play taxi, and counsel daughters and sons, and make appointments, and help their husbands, and clean the house, and organize the schedule,....and a million other things that we couldn't do without. ...But do you mean mothers actually have playful little quirks, and likes and dislikes, and hobbies and inside jokes, and secret dreams and desires....just like me?

You mean she's just like any other woman....like me, in fact? She may be super, but she's not a super woman, immune to the little details that make up a real person?

Does it sound odd that such a fact has dawned on me slowly, over the last several years? But it has.

And you know what?

I like it.

It's like when you read a book by an amateur, and it's okay, but the characters are flat, 2-dimensional, predictable things. They all sound the same...you know what they're going to do before they do it...they sound like bad actors, reading a script with too much emphasis in the wrong parts....They are people because they have a head and two legs, but deep inside you know they aren't people.

Then you open the covers of a really good book, written by a master storyteller; and the characters jump off the page to walk and breathe in the room around you while you listen and watch, spellbound. You know, deep inside, that these....these, my friend, are people.

And I've finally woken up to the fact that my parents are people. Wonderful, living, emotional, history-filled, genuine people. They were children. They were young adults. They met and fell in love. They had to learn how to be a husband and wife to each other.

And God actually gave them babies! He sent one after another....and my parents had to learn how to change diapers and wipe baby food off chubby cheeks. They had to stumble through groggy days because of short, noisy nights. Then they learned how to teach, and how to counsel, and comfort, and lead. All the while that I was growing up....so were they.

God gave me to these two people. He could have picked anybody....but He picked them.

It's the coolest thing.

Bliss

Sunday afternoon....

Four generations of my family together....Sunday dinner...laughter....discussion....

After lunch, Grandpa and Mom wash dishes together. Father and daughter, talking while they work.

Daddy and my three youngest siblings sprawl out on the nearby living room carpet and play a game.

My brother-in-law and the brother closest to me in age sit side-by-side on the plush sofa, heads together over a laptop, deep in a discussion of some sort.

I turn around a dining room seat to face the living room, where Heather cuddles her baby and Grandma sits near by. The three of us bounce from topic to topic, making remarks about whatever is on our minds. Sometimes we just sit.

Heather passes Byron to me. I let him snuggle into my shoulder, and I rock back and forth slightly. Conversation lags. I just enjoy the warmth and weight in my arms. I press my cheek against his soft hair, and hum contentedly.

I suddenly feel so rich. From the sunshine outside, to the radiance within, everything around me is satisfied. I am surround by family. I never dreamed my grandparents would live close enough to come over for Sunday dinners. I never imagined my sister passing me a baby boy that belongs to her. I couldn't have fathomed a brother-in-law who fits so well with our family. I can hardly believe my senses when they tell me my younger siblings have blossomed in such fantastic ways and grown into such fine young folks. All these riches have come to pass in such a short time.

And it's happened to me, of all people! I belong here, with these folks, in this family. I am one of them. They are mine. And I am theirs. This is our world. Who knows how long this golden age will last? No matter how many years, it will be but a vapor when it is passed. And I know that. But I do not think of it just now. For the moment, I am content to bask in the simple joys, and know that God will be just as present in the future as He is in the present.

And all I want to say, Lord Jesus, is thank You.

Valentine's Day

I'm convinced I have the sweetest family in the world.

Need proof?

I'm sitting here at my computer, nibbling chocolate from my brother. Out on the kitchen table sits a vase filled with roses; from the same brother. Gifts to my sisters and myself. He gave some to Mom, too.

My parents gave me the nicest card ever today, wishing me a day filled with love, and telling me how much I am loved.

My youngest sister gave me two Hershey kisses, and a cookie dough spoon to lick - and a pink construction-paper card.

As I sat here writing, I had to get up and answer a knock on my bedroom door - my other sister stood there with a beautiful handmade card. And two more chocolate kisses. The red paper heart was filled with carefully-written words, all sweeter than the sweetest chocolate.

But it goes beyond today.

Yesterday Mom gave me an iron. An iron. Do you remember my last post? She read it, too. Little did I know she had an iron tucked away for my birthday. She impulsively, spontaneously, and generously, and lovingly, gave it to me yesterday. I used it for hours today, as I sewed, and I love it. My own iron! Incidentally, it does not spit water, and it does not have automatic shut-off; it will stay on for hours!

A couple of weeks ago, my older sister gave me a thank-you note, for a baby shower gift. But this was no routinely stated, stiffly polite, typical thank-you note. She took time, in her flowing handwriting, to list just about every single thing I've helped her with or given her during the entire time she was pregnant! She had noticed everything, and taken the time to remember it. And even write it out.

I was out with one of my brothers tonight, and we drove pass a brightly-lit store window in a plaza. I saw a dress I loved, and said I wished we could pass it again so I could see better how it was made. (Hoping to someday copy it.) Without missing a beat, that brother of mine turned around and drove pass the window again!

I'm telling you, I have the sweetest family ever. Every single one of them astounds me with their thoughtfulness and generosity. I know that's Christ in them. And I'm so glad He's in them. He makes our family work, ya know? Life would be so wrong without Him.

Today is Valentine's Day. I've heard it called "singles' awareness day." I don't really do much to celebrate Valentine's Day - maybe someday, when I have a sweetheart, I will. But I don't feel lonely or depressed today. I'm not single. I'm surrounded by a loving family unit, and they make my heart sing.

Did you see the sun today? Did you feel the breeze? Your Heavenly Father loves you, and He's showing you it every moment, if you'll only take the time to look!

I'm an AUNTIE!!!

Yes, it's true. My darling sister (and my beloved brother-in-law) have given me a nephew! My heart overflows.

New life is exciting, fun, and mysteriously common-place when you become a big sister at 6 or 7.

When a newborn nestles in the grocery cart of a stranger, it's precious.

When friends have babies, it's special, awe-inspiring, and sweet.

When your own sister gives birth to a new human - a physical blend of herself and her husband - a being who has never yet opened his eyes to the light of day before, never been hugged before, and has yet to learn all the amazing things of life...an individual who will one day go to Heaven or hell...a baby who belongs to you by right of love and blood, who fits your hands like two puzzle pieces finding each other...a new life, that has never happened before....

...That, my friends, is beautiful, solitary tear-drop of emotion, suspended in a held breath, and sparkling with billions of reflected rays of possibility. It is joy so sweet the sweetest honey would taste bitter on the tongue in comparison. It is an awe so overcoming that it leaves you powerless.

Byron David

"Oh Lord, I thank You for life! For Your power to create and infuse life into new little bodies! For the construction of the family; that mysterious bond between parents, their offspring, and the third and fourth generations. Thank you for the precious privilege of being an aunt. Thank you for the blessing of living close by my sister and her little family. Thank you for new life in Christ. May this little boy meet You at an early age, and dedicate his life to Your service. Help me lead him to You!"

I knew from the moment Heather married that her first child would be a boy, and that he would be special to me. I was right. I never wavered from predicting a boy when Eugene and Heather told us she was pregnant, and the ultrasound only confirmed it. I could not wait to meet this little fella, and February seemed so far off. He ended up coming early, and since mom and baby both are well and healthy, I'm glad he came early. I was tired of waiting!

He arrived last Sunday night, and has been home for a week and one day now. Life has been a little disrupted, or I would have shared the happy news earlier. But when it's a choice between blogging or holding a baby, where is the contest?

When I held him in my arms for the first time last Monday, I instantly lost my heart to him.

...So...anything exciting happened in YOUR life lately?

Thank You, Jesus!!!

Generational sins

Today I keep thinking of a saying my Pastor repeats quite often.

"What you do in moderation, your children will do in excess."

I caught myself doing a vain thing, and excused myself by saying, "It's all in moderation."

Then that saying came back to haunt me.

"What you do in moderation, your children will do in excess."

Do I want my (Lord willing) future children to copy me in everything?

Um...gulp...no. Most things, yes. Everything? No. I shiver at the thought. They can copy my strengths all they like, but I hope they don't inherit my weaknesses.

But, "What you do in moderation, your children will do in excess."

So...do I want my vanity to become full-blown arrogance and pride in my children? No.

Do I want my private longings to become open selfishness in my children? No!

Do I want my stingy giving to become greed?

Do I want my "independence" to become rebellion in my children?

Will "indulgences" become addiction to entertainment?

Will sarcasm become cutting words?

Somehow I want to make excuses for myself, but I want my children to be perfect. Looking at things from the perspective of several generations makes everything more serious. I can understand why people say that when you become a parent, all of the sudden you grow up. When you realize that the health of your child's soul depends a great deal on you,...it makes a difference.

Lord, grant me grace to live in such a way that I can say, "Follow me as I follow Christ!"

If you were that man

I'm going to live dangerously, and publish two posts in one day. :)

I just wanted to share a thought with you.

We just finished reading part of Luke 5 as a family; the story of the man who was let down through the roof by four friends, in order to be healed by Jesus. The Bible says Jesus saw their faith, and told the man his sins were forgiven. The Pharisees thought "who does this guy think He is? Only God can forgive sins." (I'm paraphrasing, you understand.)

So, to prove He had power to do anything - forgiving sins and healing bodies - Christ turned back to the crippled man and told him to rise up and walk.

Familiar story.

But tonight I thought of something I never had before.

How much time elapsed while Christ spoke with the Pharisees?

Picture it: you're that crippled man. You lay there on your bed, just having reached the floor. You've been lowered through the roof by your four friends. The dust is still settling. Everyone is staring at you. No one moves. You lock eyes with Jesus, and realize you're holding your breath. So much hangs on this moment. You've come to be healed. Will He heal you?

And He tells you your sins are forgiven.

Then He turns to talk with the teachers and lawyers.

How long? One minute? Two? Five?

However long it is, you're laying there. Everyone is still looking. Your friends look on from above, peering through the hole in the roof.

What are you thinking?

You came to be healed. Jesus hasn't said a word about that. Is this all He's going to do? Is He going to leave you like this?

But He's just forgiven your sins. Is He really God, after all?

Do you suppose your sins had been weighing heavily on your conscience? Had you been convicted in your heart? Has a burden been lifted by those words of forgiveness? Was it worth coming, just for that? If He never turns around and looks at you again, has it been enough?

What do you think?

Of course, we know the end of the event. Jesus healed the man. But what if He hadn't? What if that was us? Would we be satisfied with "only" spiritual healing?

To be reconciled with God - what a thought! Our future secured, our soul made new...surely such a thing is priceless.

Do we value it as we ought? Do we prefer it over physical wellness?

Forget physical wellness for a moment. What about "trivial" little things, like food, clothes, and jobs. Do we count even those things of more value than spiritual wellness?

If you were that man, and Christ had never turned back to heal you, would you have been content?

What about your real life? Even if you are saved, surely there are other things in your life you'd like God to "fix." Are you happy, even while in those circumstances? Or do you put off happiness, saying "I'd be happy/content/peaceful if He'd only answer this request"?

Something to think about, isn't it?

We have salvation through Christ! We ought to be the happiest, most content people in the world.

Even if He hasn't lifted hardships we originally came to Him about.

Because He is enough.

The Abortion Debate

Yesterday I had the privilege of attending a debate at a Christian law school near my home. The topic of the debate was "Does Abortion Help or Harm Women?"

I was particularly interested in this debate because I am acquainted with the woman who defended the pro-life side of the issue. She is on staff at the Crisis Pregnancy Center where I volunteer. She has had an abortion in the past, and has been involved in counseling women through post-abortion Bible studies for 19 years. She told her story as a part of her presentation for the debate.

The woman defending the other side of the issue had, as someone else put it "degrees as long as both my arms." She is obviously highly educated, and has been involved with the pro-choice movement since 1970. She was soft-spoken and congenial, but for all her education, she did little to further her point of view during the debate. (In my opinion.)

During her times to speak, she talked a great deal about getting along, and the need to understand the "other side" and the contradictions both "sides" have made with their arguments. I got the feeling that she was there to discuss the big picture of abortion, and point out what was wrong with the pro-life "techniques" of persuasion, rather than argue the specific question at hand; does abortion help or harm women?

When she did get around to discussing the main topic for a few minutes, her sole point of argument was that the majority of unplanned pregnancies happen to young women who are unmarried and living at or below the poverty level. She spoke about the difficulties of expecting these women to take on the extra burden of the expense of a child. She quoted statistics about how children born to these women are much more likely to be abused, go to jail (if they are boys), repeat the actions of their mothers (if they are girls), and never finish high school. She practically called it cruel to allow children to be born into the world when their lives would be so difficult, and she was of the opinion that asking women to take on this burden was asking too much of them.

If you have read this blog for any length of time, you know that I am strongly against abortion, and that I have good reason to be. But I found myself with mixed feelings at the end of the debate. So little seemed to be accomplished this way. I yearned for this woman's heart to change. She was so impersonal; bound up in her statistics.

This morning I found myself sitting in my bedroom talking to myself. ...Well, not really to myself. I was imagining what I would have said if I was the one doing the rebuttal after she had made her opening statement. Would you care to hear it?

"Ladies and Gentlemen, my worthy opponent has said a great deal about the need for us to get along, and understand both sides of the issue of abortion, which is true. She is right when she says we need to know how the 'other side' thinks. That doesn't mean we must agree, but how can you change a mind when you don't know how that mind works?

However, I find very little in her statements that addresses about the topic at hand. Her main argument has been based on statistics that she says we will not accept, because we are biased against them. She is right when she says that the pro-life and pro-choice movements are always suspicious of one another's research. I find that rather amusing, because she's right - it's true most of the time! But in this case I'd have to disagree. I do think the statistics she's quoted are accurate.

She says that the pro-life movement tends to focus solely on the unborn child, and the pro-choice movement solely on the woman, and that such a bias in either direction is unfair and un-logical. Again, I agree with her. We do wrong if we focus on the unborn baby at the expense of the woman. She is very much in need, and we need to help her. I see these women all the time at the Pregnancy Center. I go there because I care about them, and want to help them. Abortion is harmful, and would totally change their life if they were to have one, but most of them don't know that. I'm there to make sure they are informed.

I say this to point out that Miss ______'s argument is also based a great deal - but not entirely - on the life of the child. She says it is not worth bringing them into the sort of life they would have. She accuses us of focusing too much on the child, but her own argument is rooted in the same person, to a degree - though I do understand that her main point was that the mother is going to suffer if asked to bring a child into the world she lives in, and care for it.

So here we have a main problem that we both agree on; children born in unplanned pregnancies are born into difficult circumstances. However, we both give different solutions to the problem.

Miss ________'s solution is to kill the children before they ever enter the world. She hopes to avoid the added difficulties by making sure they are stopped as quickly as possible. She admits that ending the pregnancy does not solve the woman's condition in life, but says that it will at least make sure no new difficulties are added. She emphasizes that women should be able to chose when, where, and how they bring life into the world. It is their liberty and their right.

This solution ignores the fact that the children are already in the world. There are millions of children, all over the globe, who are suffering. They are starving. They are naked. They are uneducated. They are abused. Yet our solution to this is not to kill off the children. No person in his right mind would suggest that as a solution.

These unborn children are already in existence. Their mothers have already made the choice to bring life into the world. They have already exercised their right to decide.

I know many a poor family with several children. They struggle to make ends meet. Should I suggest that they eliminate a child or two to help with financial difficulties? 'Oh, let's just kill off the two year old, and you'll be able to make it.'

Of course not! No one would think of such a thing. But what about a 2-month old? A two-day old? It is equally unthinkable. Suppose we go two days before birth?

My point is that as soon as a woman finds out she is expecting, she is already entered into the responsibilities of motherhood. Those responsibilities will continue for years. If she, at any time, is allowed the freedom to "cancel" those responsibilities by killing her child, then, logically, she should have that freedom at any point in her child's existence. It is the most warped form of logic to suggest that her "freedom" applies only to a certain time frame of her motherhood.

My solution to the problem is two-fold. First, to prevent these pregnancies in the first place. Miss______ is right when she says that women need to be more responsible. I am not sure what exactly she refers to when she says that, but I just want to mention that I see women all the time who were on birth control and still got pregnant. Abstinence is the only foul-proof method of preventing pregnancies. I know it's politically incorrect to suggest that, but it is still the truth. ...But that's a topic for another time.

Secondly, we need to provide for the women who are already unintentionally pregnant and are unsure where to turn. They need to be educated. They need financial help. They need to be informed on all their options. My worthy opponent took offense, earlier, when I said women are being lied to about abortion, but it is still the truth; they ARE being lied to. They do not know everything it will involve. They do not know the risks. They do not know about the side effects that can be hidden for years and then pop up. They have no idea what they are getting into.

Abortion is harmful to women. The arguments Miss _______ have presented totally ignore the fact that the "problem" - the child - is already here, and what has happened can not be undone. Abortion purports to be able to "turn back" the clock, by undoing "the damage," but time machines are the property of science fiction. That woman is already pregnant, and if she crosses her natural mothering instincts - which a part of her very being, even if she is not aware of them - she will suffer trauma later on in life. It may be 50 seconds afterward, and it may be 50 years; I have seen both. But it will happen.

We need to be about the business of protecting both the unborn and their mothers. Because abortion is harmful to women."

...I think that would have filled up the 4-minute rebuttal time. :)

For those of you readers who don't know it, my father was born to one of those mothers who was poor and unwed and logically "unable" to care for a child. According to Miss X, he should have been aborted.

And I would have never lived.

Chew on that for a minute.




Here is a passage for you to meditate on today:

"If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not; doth not He that pondereth the heart consider it? and He that keepeth thy soul, doth He not know it? and shall not He render to ever man according to his works?"
Proverbs 24:11-12

The Wind of the Past

Like most of the east coast of America, (I assume), we are enjoying splendid spring-like weather this week. I know it won't last, but it's been absolutely wonderful while it has been here!

I spent two hours doing yard work this morning, clearing up some places where I'll plant flowers in a of couple months. The sun was warm on the back of my head, and a comfortable breeze kept things nice.

After the work was done, I walked to the back of the yard to get a view of the big picture. The flower beds against the back of the house looked great!

As I stood in that corner of the yard, my eye fell on a nearby tree. A swing hangs from one low branch. On a whim, I strolled to it and fingered the yellow rope thoughtfully, then sat on the wooden seat and pushed myself into a gentle motion. I closed my eyes, felt the sun on my cheek, the puff of wind in my hair, and I let my thoughts take me back....way back...

For as long as I can remember, there has been a swing in this tree. Oh, it's been replaced several times, and moved to a different branch once, but this back corner of the yard has always been the swing tree. Some of my earliest memories grew from this tree, like bright tender leaves on its greying branches.

For a while I just sat there and felt, rather than thought.

The sun hitting my cheek was so familiar. How many times had I felt it just like that, while sitting here? It always came from the left.

Moving through the air, feet off the ground, hands twined around the rope, my eyes are shut. I don't see blackness - the sun is too bright for that. It's more of a solid orang-y glow that surrounds me. The gentle movement of the swing is as familiar as my own walk.

It has been at least a year since I swung on this swing. I realize it with surprise. But that gentle movement, through a warm orange glow, shocks my memory into overdrive. Sensations come flooding over me...

...The softness of the "tassels" on our first swing. It was just the frayed ends of the white rope, but they were so soft....

...Dirt in my shoes, scuffed in from the many stops and starts I made...

...The exact feel of that wooden board...

...The brush of scraggly grey tree bark against my bare arm when I swung crookedly and hit the tree...

And the sounds. Oh, the sounds. Our road is just off a major highway. The hum of traffic is ever-present. In five minutes we can drive to an airport, stone quarry, or fire station. The jets fly over our yard, the quarry blasts shake our windows, and the fire whistle sounds at random times. But for all that, our backyard can be very quiet much of the time.

Like now. Yet even now, a breeze kicks up, in the tree tops behind the garden. The wind catches in the branches of that great big oak tree, and bounces from oak to pine. The gentle murmur swells to a louder one. It is all as familiar to me as my mother's voice. That wind. Those trees.

If I listen closely enough, I hear voices and sounds in that wind.

...The hum of the lawn mower on a summer day....

...Children laughing and screaming over the sound of the mower...The smell of lemonade mingles with that of gasoline and freshly cut grass. Somebody has brought Daddy a drink...

...A hammer pounding and an electric drill whirring - and Daddy's voice telling us to stay off the fort until he is finished making it...I feel sand on my skin, fresh from the sandbox under the fort. It is rubbing off onto the ropes of the swing...

... My younger brother is swinging in the swing across from me, in the next tree. We are pretending we are blind, and we talk to each other about what we hear. It has been so long since I heard that young boyish voice!...

...My older sister is pushing me, her small hands on my back. Her voice reminds me that it's her turn next...

...Now she is in the swing across from me. We sing gospel songs at the top of our lungs, over the sound of the lawn mower, hoping that our unsaved neighbors will hear us through their open windows...We kick our feet in the air and rejoice in victory when our shoes go flying off...

...I hear Mom calling for lunch, and I smell the hamburgers as Daddy tends the grill...

...I hear my own young voice, crying...pouring out my troubles to an empty back yard on a quiet afternoon, after fighting a math lesson that just didn't want to be learned...

It is all so real. I can hear the voices so clearly on that wind.

Then I feel tears on my cheek. These are real. I can't help myself from thinking, from feeling...from asking.


Where did the years go?

Slam the Door?

You know, at times I get really frustrated with some of the side effects of being a stay-at-home daughter.

Making my work and influence sphere center around my home and family was my own choice, and it certainly a choice that I don't regret (although phrasing it that way makes it sound like a one time decision, rather than an ongoing commitment), but that doesn't mean I love every minute of it.

There are times when I shake my head and say "Amber, why do you choose to live this way? Don't you get tired of planning your schedule around your family's schedule? Don't you wish you were more independent? Don't you want to prove to the world that you are a mature, capable adult?"

I have to squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself that the most mature, capable people I know - my parents - also submit themselves and their schedules to what is best for the family as a whole. They can't run around doing whatever they want. They don't live on their own, and yet no one questions their maturity and "independence."

But there are times when I get frustrated anyway. Take this afternoon, for example. Or yesterday afternoon. I've just sat down to work on my computer, a work load staring back at me from the screen. Website maintenance, business correspondents, language studies, and O how I wish for time to work on my newest book that I'm writing! And free time to research hobbies online would be wonderful.

Yet how many times must I get up and answer my bedroom door? No, sister dear, I cannot cut your rabbit's nails right now. Yes, Mom, I can help you edit my sibling's school work. Yes, Daddy, I can come tell you what it exactly that I wanted you to help me with the other day. Yes, Mom, if the phone call is for me, I'll take it. Yes, Mom, I'll watch whatever is on the stove while you run an errand. Yes, brother, I have your project all ready for you - here it is. Yes, other brother, I can cut your hair sometime this evening. No, Dad, I don't want to go the the garden store with you, though I absolutely LOVE doing that. Yes, Mom, I'll help you find that book. Yes, yes, yes...

Sometimes I get so TIRED of saying YES! I want to slam my bedroom door, lock it, pound on it a couple of times and yell, "What do you guys think I am? Do you think I exist in this home to do nothing but help you with all your problems? I've got a few projects and problems of my own, guys!"

This is a moment of terrible honesty. Because, truly, I don't like confessing that that is what I ache to do and say. I'd rather say that I am constantly cheerful and always willing to help out. But I'm not. And even if I'm helping out, I'm not always doing it cheerfully. Sometimes I'm secretly yelling at the person I'm "helping."

My projects are important to me. I like to have time to work on them. And as an adult, I do have stuff that is necessary for me to accomplish. I have to take time to make a budget every month. I have to maintain our online thrift store's website. I have to reply to certain emails. And so on and so forth. When I don't have the time to work on these things, I get a sort of panic rising in my chest, starting at my stomach, and getting tight toward my throat.

But do I really want to be on my own, free to pursue only my own projects and passions, never disturbed or encountering conflicting schedules? Do I really want to still live in this house, but operate completely independent of its other occupants, only interacting with them at mealtimes and on holidays? Do I really want that?

Let's see...I'd get a whole lot of work done. Maybe even finish writing my book. I wouldn't be so tempted to lose my temper so often. It'd be less stressful.

But what would I have to give up to get that?

~ Family. Real, true family, that interacts with me constantly and knows me ever-so-well.

~ Strength of character. How else would I ever learn patience and kindness, if my limits were never tested? It's easy to be sweet and helpful when there's no one to demand those things at a moment when you feel anything but sweet and helpful.

~ Help. It's only fair to admit it; these people who constantly ask for my help also are constantly giving me help. If they weren't here, who would do all the things they do?

Am I willing to give up these things - family, character building, and help - in exchange for solitude and peace?

Not hardly.

Because there's a forth blessing involved; the knowledge that I'm right where God wants me to be. I'm convinced that He put me in this family to serve, and to further this home. Sure, He's given me personal projects, but that doesn't cancel out my other job; that of daughter, and sister. I know He can give me the strength to do both. ...And if I start running out of fuel, then I should start asking myself if all those "personal projects" are things God wants me to be doing, or things I thought up on my own.

That's all I have to say for now. I just needed to sit here and remind myself why I should not get up and slam the bedroom door. Because I really do want to be cheerful and helpful. For Christ's sake. Because He is the one I am serving.

P. S. For those of you who read my New Year's Eve post, I ought to mention that I have postponed that series I mentioned; I still plan to publish it, but probably not until February. Stay tuned!

Things I'm Thankful For

~ God's love. It's the first thing that comes to mind when I think about what I'm thankful for - which is often. It's absolutely foremost in my mind this year - so much so that I feel like running around, grabbing people by the shoulders and saying, "have you heard? God is love! God loves me!" I've been made aware of His love in a new and bigger way this year, and it's totally indescribably wonderful.

~ Salvation. Mercy. Grace. Forgiveness. All offshoots of the above item, but each one a separate world of delights, full of its own implications and joys.

~ Music - I've fallen deeper in love with it this year. :)

~ Parents who are in love with each other. This means more and more to me, the older I get.

~ Daddy. My leader, protector, and teacher. The one who makes me smile when I'm sad.

~ Mom. The kind of friend every girl should have. Faithful, wise, and constant. Unselfish. And a wonderful person to hang out with and do things with - something I've been doubly thankful for since my older sister has moved out of the house. :)

~ Siblings who are my best friends. Brothers who make me proud, and sisters who fill me with joy.

~ My sister's marriage - it's been a beautiful picture of Christ and His bride.

~ My new brother-in-law. My sister has good tastes. :) ...So does he, come to think of it. :)

~ Our location. I love where I live.

~ The beauty of life. Growing things. Animals. Babies.

~ The opportunities God has given me this year. I've gotten to do so many things I'd only dreamed of doing before.

~ My hands. I love working with them.

~ Books. Words. Language.

~ My Bible. God's Word. Seriously, that dear, precious, book....I owe so much to it.

~ Kind friends. I have so many of them, and they are so kind and unselfish and encouraging and loving that they are continually surprising me; "oh, you mean you are that kind? You mean you care that much? Wow."

~ My church. Our Pastor. God's people. Sweet fellowship.

~ Freedom. Liberty. Such a high cost, and such a exquisite prize!

~ My Dad's job. With so many people unemployed, I'm so thankful Dad's been able to continue working. And my brother has a job too, now.

~ My new (own!) bedroom. Never thought I'd get used to it this fast! :)

~ God's patience. Wow, I don't know what I'd be like without this.

~ Smiles. Singing. Laughter.

~ Sunshine.

~ Plants.

~ Food, and the ability to make things in the kitchen.

~ Love.

~ God's direction.

~ The Holy Spirit.

~ The unshakable assurance of knowing that God finishes what He starts.

~ Trials. Really. I started this year with some very deep, dark times, and they have been the springboard to draw me nearer to God. I'm so thankful for them.

What about you? What are you thankful for?


I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

A Quiet Home

I was thinking today of how much I like the quietness of our home. At the time, I was sitting at my sewing machine, the needle humming away, and although all 6 of my family members (minus my married sister) were there in the house, a stranger would never have known it.

Now, we're not always that quiet. No, indeed! But there is generally an air of quiet in the house that is surprising enough to cause several friends of ours to comment on it.

A quiet home is not necessarily a home where nothing happens. Ours is a very active household; my sewing students come and go, my Dad and brother are departing and returning from their workplace, and Mom or I are frequently running errands. (Our driveway ought to have a revolving door thingy, so we don't have to play rush hour with the cars.)

My younger siblings are studying, going in and out the back door to the great outdoors (often trying to sneak rabbits or chickens inside), playing games (NOT board games) in the basement, using B.B. or air-soft guns in the house (yes, really), raising sawdust and wood chips in the work area as they create a new project...

Mom and I are often tinkering in the kitchen, using noisy appliances, or banging pots and pans. All five of my siblings and I play more than one instrument, and rare is the hour when at least one of us is not practicing, or playing musical CDs.

Like every household, we operate. We move. We talk. We bang stuff around. But still, we have lots of quiet. I want to list a few things I think contribute to a quiet house, but first: why desire a quiet house?

I think the blessing of a quiet home is something we all understand. It's peaceful, and soothing to tired nerves. It's conductive to study, to keeping your mind focused on the task at hand, and creating a welcoming environment. When the household is constantly full of screams and shouting, chatter and loud laughter, little legs running to and fro, objects hitting the floor, etc., it affects your mind, don't you think? It's a lot easier to pray, too, when you can hear yourself think.

So how to have a quiet home? Well, I think it's all based on habits. And, of course, quiet is all relative to the season of life you're in. "Quiet" sounds mighty different when you have 3 toddlers in the house than when you have five young adults in the house. :)

Some habits that have helped us:

~ Cultivate "Quiet" Hobbies
No, I'm not suggesting we all take up embroidery and painting, and never touch a hammer or guitar. But we spend a lot of time doing quiet activities in our house; reading, writing, computer, sewing (in my case), ...And many chores are relatively quiet; sweeping, cleaning the toilet, organizing clutter, dusting, etc. But you can't be quiet forever, and that leads me to my next point:

~ Schedule Your Noise
We have certain hours of the day that are set aside for school. Even though I'm not in school any more, I know my younger siblings are supposed to be studying during those hours. So, I don't practice my fiddle. And I don't play a CD while I'm washing dishes. And I don't carry on long, energetic, enthusiastic conversations with Mom while I'm in the room where they're working. I save my talking for later.

Quiet times are a major practice in developing this habit. When Mom was expecting my younger siblings, all the siblings who were already here had lots of practice with learning to be quiet, because she would frequently need to take naps throughout the day. While she was lying down, she'd turn off the lights in the house (so long as the day was sunny), to remind us to be quiet, and we learned to talk in low voices, play or work quietly, not to start tickling each other, and not to play with dice on hardwood floors.

This is the biggest "tip" I can offer on this subject. It's proven to be very valuable for us. Schedule times for just "quiet." The habits will carry over into other times of day.

~ Do loud stuff outside
Let's face it - we were made to make noise! Especially when you've got young folks around, noise is a great thing! It releases mental energy, or something. :) So go outside, and laugh, and be loud. Just do it at a decent time, so the neighbors won't mind. :)

*(As a side note, I want to mention that I've noticed something about my siblings; they play fairly quietly, even when outdoors. Ever watched "screamers" play? They shriek at everything, setting the dog two houses down to wailing. The whole neighborhood knows when they're out. But for some reason, my little sisters never caught that habit - which is nice! I'm afraid I'm more of a shrieker than they are; just play tag with me sometime!)

~ Cultivate Quiet Voices and Bodies
Some people just don't know they're making noise. It's worth trying to cultivate the discipline of self control in the area of your volume level. I remember trying to help my brother understand the difference between just whispering, and truly being quiet. Whispering doesn't help if you're tromping down the hallway at 5:30 in the morning! But the gentle reminders paid off - he's now pretty quiet when he wants to be. :) Now if we could just get a certain sibling to shut the bathroom door without rattling the doorknob so loudly at 11:30pm. :)

And, when the inevitable sounds happen....

~ Contain the Noise
Ours is not a large house, and it's easy to hear what's going on in other rooms. Sometimes that's fine, but other times, you just don't want to hear that piano lesson played one more time. Shutting doors, plugging in earphones, and turning down the volume helps to keep tempers more cheerful. And, when "sharing noise" can't be helped, well...you learn to either enjoy or ignore! :)

~ One Room, One Floor
As a general rule, only one person in a room talks at a time. Even when you're not sharing in a particular conversation, you respect that person's right to the floor. In general, we don't usually have more than one conversation going on in a room at the same time. If somebody wants to start another discourse, they move to another location. (Example: two little people want to play together, they move to a bedroom. A phone call for you; you move to another room to talk.) The major exception for this is when we have guests; then, nearly all the rooms in our house are filled with happy chatter, from multiple mouths - and we love it! Other exceptions would be at the dinner table (yes, I know, it's not "proper") or when we're playing games. When competition is going on, everybody is talking. :)


I think I've talked enough for now. I just wanted to share a few thoughts with you. Really, though, in the realm of "quietness," the most valuable thing you can cultivate is a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great worth. Why don't you share some habits that have helped you form that kind of quietness in your life?

God is Good ALL the Time

I've been doing a lot of thinking, the past couple days.

Great, you say. Good for the head.

No - really. I've been doing more than the usual share of wondering, asking, and pondering. Don't make jokes. This is serious thinking that I've been doing.

There's so much hurt in the world. Death. Persecution. Broken relationships. Greedy dictators. Depression. Anger. Murder. Loss.

So many innocents wounded. Babies killed. Children scarred in their hearts. Wives grieving. Men broken inside. Families starving to death.

Why, God? Why do you let it be this way? Why must they hurt? My heart aches for them.

Why is my life so....pristinely perfect? It almost scares me. Why was I born in the most wonderful country in the world? Why have I never had to hide under a table, clutching my Bible in my hands, while secret police arrest my parents?

Why do I have an entire family that loves God and loves me? Why do I have parents who love each other? Why do I have enough to eat and clothes to wear? Why do I have a wonderful church, where the gospel is preached? Why do I have my grandparents still with me on this earth? Why have I never dealt with any sort of great physical pain at all?

Why have I been blessed with the opportunities to go so many places, meet so many wonderful - and sometimes famous - people? Why was I put in a family that is so popular? Why have I grown up in this lovely location - so close to the city, yet with a big enough yard to get filthy in, and plant seeds and run around with dogs? Why did I love school? Why did I have all the opportunity for the best education?

Why does everything always work out so well for me? Why has God blessed me this way, and not them?

If I think about it long and hard, I can find hardships in my life. I grew up feeling like an "odd ball," the "conservative homeschooler." I had a hard time making close friends as a youngster. I've never met my grandfather on my Dad's side. I've struggled with depression. I have asthma. I have a sister I dearly love who struggles with a lot of physical problems. There are loads of places I long to visit that I've never set foot in. I miss having my older sister living at home. Overabundance of money has never been a disease I caught.

But those things don't come to mind when I'm analyzing my life. When I'm struggling with them, in the moment, they seem overwhelming... but in the big picture, they disappear. When I'm summing it all up, I forget to add them to the total. I count my life a blessed thing.

And it doesn't seem fair. Not when all those other people are suffering beyond my comprehension.



But, ...then, do I really know these people? I haven't met them, or talked to them.

Maybe....maybe they're just like me.

Maybe the drama and misery and agony isn't like movies and novels and such would have me believe. Maybe the trials rise and fall, and their life goes on, just like mine. Maybe God is as close - closer - to them in their big troubles as He is to me in my little ones. Maybe they wouldn't trade their trials any more than I would trade mine and the lessons I've learned from them. Maybe God really does chasten those He loves.

Maybe.

Of course.

But what about the babies? What about the men and women and children who actually die?

O God, where are my eyes? What am I asking? I see things from such an earthy point of view. Help me remember that this world is not all there is. It exists for Your glory. All of history - and every life in it - is here for Your glory. You write each story. You know each soul. And when they leave this earth, why am I thinking that they are over, that they are gone? They have only moved.

How could I have forgotten that You love them more than I do? That You know them intimately? That You planned each second of their life before they came into existence?

The answer to my worries and fears lies in the character of God. I can trust His goodness and love.

Psalm 73
1Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.
2 But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.
3 For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
4 For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.
5 They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men...

...16 When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me;
17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.
18 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction.
19 How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors.
20 As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.
21 Thus my heart was grieved, and I was pricked in my reins.
22 So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.
23 Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.
24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.
26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
27 For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish: thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.
28 But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord GOD, that I may declare all thy works.

Someday....my prince will come?

Tonight I was thinking about my (Lord willing) future husband.

That came up in my thoughts because I was thinking about how wonderful it is to see men with character; men who are passionate about serving God, men who care about lost souls, men who are strong in spirit, men who speak truth, men who are kind, men who are courteous, men who are creative, men who are joyful, men who are prayer warriors, men who are hard workers, men who are unselfish, men who are leaders, men who know what their purpose in life is, and men who are devoted and patient. Men like that are....well, one in a thousand. You may find a man who is one of these - or two or three or four of these things - but to find a man with all of these qualities (and many more good ones which I haven't time to mention) is rare indeed.

I was praying while I thought, to be quite honest. It came to my mind, as it has many times, how blessed I would be to have a husband like this. And how impossible it would be to find a man like this, if the task were mine. I blush to admit it, but I even find myself thinking of it as an impossible task for my Heavenly Father, sometimes. Yet I asked the Lord to give me a man like this, since in my saner moments I know He is quite capable of it.

"Find me one like this," indeed! Why, God will not only have to find the man, but make him. Such a godly man does not happen by accident. I would think that the molding of a man of such character would be a much more difficult task (if such words can be applied to God) than merely leading a man and woman together.

I sat there, daydreaming about what it would be like to meet a man who is so in love with God that he is....well, ideal. Always patient. Sure of his mission in life. Humble, yet bold. Kind, yet a leader. Handsome, of course. And able to do just about anything.

It was then I began rebuking myself. "Don't aim for the stars, Amber. Be practical. Remember, you're going to marry a sinner. He's a human, like you. He's a fallen creature. Come on; don't expect perfection! Expect a godly man, yes, but not a perfect one." I've been warned against this so many times. He'd be marrying me, after all; ME! We've gotta have some things, at least, in common. Why would I expect a perfect saint to marry a flawed sinner? Am I expecting him to put up with weakness in my life, while I'm not expecting to have to put up with any flaws in his? That doesn't sound fair at all.

"Okay. So I'll list the things that I'm willing to 'put up with' in a husband. A list of faults that I can 'tolerate.' He can 'be this,' and I'll be okay with it." (Can you believe I was having this conversation with myself?)

I sat there.

And sat there.

And sat there.

With an empty list. I couldn't think of one single "small fault" (I didn't want to call them "sins") that I'd be willing to tolerate in a husband.

Would I be okay with him being a bit impatient? No, that'd be too wearing on the atmosphere of our home.

Would it be fine if he was not a super strong leader? Nah, I need someone to depend on.

How 'bout if he doesn't always give me all the attention I feel I need? Oh no, not that one!

Hmm...What if he's weak in personal discipline? No, no, no. That would be terrible. It would drive me crazy.

What if his prayer life is weak? That wouldn't work at all. Prayer warriors make strong Christians, and I want a strong Christian!

What if he's hit-and-miss with personal devotions and time with the Lord?... Are you kidding? Of course he must be strong in that area!

What if he is lazy? ...Shivers.... Please, no.

Item after item, and not one made it onto my list. There was not a single weakness that I wanted to find in a husband. Of course, I know he'll have weaknesses. That's just life. And I know I will learn to love him anyway, and be a true help meet, suitable for him, and hopefully I'll encourage him in his spiritual life, and he'll do the same for me.

But all this listing made me wonder....

...What weaknesses would he be willing to tolerate in me? What faults would he "be fine with" in his wife?

Uh...none. I'm positive a man looking for a wife is no different than a woman hoping for a husband; they both want as-near-to-perfect-as-possible mates. And why shouldn't they feel that way?

The problem came when I started checking myself against that "perfection list" that I had come up with and, one after another, I started coming up with faults that my husband probably have to put up with in me, unless I improve dramatically between now and the time I marry.

Why don't my own faults bug me as much as the ones he might have? Don't I know that he wants a godly wife, just like I want a godly husband? What am I doing towards that end? Do I spend enough time being concerned about my character, my faults, getting my own self right with God, and forming habits that tend toward godly character?

Probably not.

But I'm not married yet. There's hope. ...But you know what? My family has to live with me here and now. Other people have to deal with my faults here and now.

You know, I think most of us think about that rosy "someday when I'm married" much more than we admit. I know I do. And even though many of us are a little embarrassed to say, when someone interrupts our thinking, that we were daydreaming about our future husbands, families, and homes, there's really nothing wrong with thinking about it. I think that's an instinct God put inside us, as women. It's a perfectly natural thing to do. But the Holy Spirit reminded me tonight that I need to think about both sides of the coin, and I guess the whole point of this post is just a desire to pass that reminder on to you.

You are not going to magically change into a different person someday. What you do with your time now has an awful lot of impact on the kind of wife you're going to be. The books you read, the things you watch, the friends you make, the things you do with your free time; all of these have long-lasting effects. Don't fall into the trap of thinking "well, I'm young, so I can do it and it doesn't matter." Being young doesn't have to equal being immature, wasteful, lazy, or other useless things. In fact, our youth is incredibly valuable. We are charged in the scriptures to remember our Creator in the days of our youth, and to seek Him while we are young.

Let's do that.

Our future husbands will thank us someday.

If you've been wondering where I am...

It's awful, I know. I've been absent for a long time, without so much as popping in to say I'm alive.

Well, for part of that time I wasn't sure I was alive, and then when I was sure I didn't want everyone to know it, and then when I wanted them to know it I had no time to tell them.

Make sense?

Two words ought to make everything clear: Heather's wedding.

Oh, it was lovely. The preceding week was hectic, but Friday's rehearsal and the wedding on Saturday were absolutely fantastic. It wasn't craziness that made me feel like hiding in a hole, that's for sure.

I actually had fun on Friday and Saturday - 'specially Friday. So many people that we care about where there, and we were all working toward and common goal, and everyone was so helpful, and there was so much laughter....how could it not be fun?

On Saturday, things were a little different. I still had fun, but it was a more subdued feeling, for I was also struggling with tears. My sister was leaving.

The ceremony itself was peaceful, graceful, full of beauty; it was all the things you could desire. I felt peaceful standing up there, and I was grateful, because I know it came from God.

I don't have time to tell you all about the details - I hope I can do that at a later date. This has been a long week for me, full of lots of emotions....and a lot of work. We are preparing to help Heather and Eugene move into their new house when they return from their honeymoon on Saturday. That being said, I must run. I hope to post more later. For now, a peek at the dresses I kept talking and talking about on here: (I hope I didn't bore you to tears with my continual references to "wedding sewing!")

I hope to post more wedding photos soon, and tell you all about it. For now, thanks to each of you who were praying for us on that day! I love how a blog is different from a journal in that respect; you are real, caring, people, and I know that many of you are praying for me. I love that. God bless each of you. (See - I pray for you too.:)

Laughter is good medicine

Dad gave three of his daughters (that includes me) a good laugh yesterday evening by the following conversation:

Lezley (or was it Tiffany?): "Daddy, tell us about when you were little."

Dad: "Hmm."

(I wasn't looking at them, but I "heard" a familiar twinkle in his eyes.)

Dad: "Well, I was born very early in my life."

(Giggles from the girls. Great laughter from me.)

Dad: "And I spent most of my childhood as a youth."

(Chuckles all around.)

Dad: "I was born very close to my mother, because I cared about her."

(More chuckles.)

Dad: "And I was very bright. That's why she called me 'son.'"

(Peals of laughter from everyone.)

The End.

The Flea Market

This Saturday was the first weekend this year that The King's Strings was able to go out to our local flea market and do evangelizing.

For those of you who are newer readers, and hence didn't catch all my references to our flea market ministry last summer, I'll explain briefly:

(Here we are last summer.)

The bluegrass gospel group that three of my siblings and I are a part of, The King's Strings, has a desire to use our music to reach folks with the gospel. In past years, my own family has gone out to the local flea markets a few times on our own, or with a member from our church, to set up our church's tent and pass out tracts. That something our church has been doing for a long time, whenever someone volunteers to go out there.

When we first joined our church, a few older men had been doing the flea market ministry but, to be honest, it was a lot for them to spend an entire morning out there in the heat and everything, so they slowly were coming to the point where they weren't able to do it very often. My sister Heather and I thought "Hey, we're young and full of energy, and this needs to be done, so let's do it!" ...and our family unofficially became "the Flea Market People."

It was either the first or second time we set up at the market that our brother Curtis brought his guitar along. He played whatever hymns came to mind and even though, at that time, he was just beginning to "get good" on the guitar, lots of people stopped to listen and take our tracts. As Curtis played, we older girls manned the tent table, and Dad and our younger siblings stood out in the walkway to catch those who didn't get close enough to the table for us to reach them. We found out that little people are really good at getting anyone - even a gruff-looking person - to take a tract from their small hands. :)

Last year, as the warm weather came back and it was flea market time again, we realized that we now had a new weapon to use; we had a music group that year! Not all 10 members of our group could make it out there every Saturday, of course, but most Saturdays there were at least 4 of us out there, from 6:00 to 12:00.

We were thrilled to see the way music opens doors. Folks stood around our table for many minutes at a time. They clapped at the end of each song, and some sang along. They almost forced us to have a "donation bowl," and hence unknowingly supplied the funds to buy more tracts. They stopped to talk, and talk, and talk.

I have many good memories of last year at the flea market. Getting there in the dark at 6:00, or a little after....shivering in the cold, blowing on numb fingers....getting sunburned later in the day as the heat rolled in and bounced off the gravel paths...long conversations as we sat around while waiting for the crowd to pick up...talks with brothers and sister in the Lord whom we met at the market, and who were so excited to see young people out doing soul winning.

You see, that year the Market Ministry officially was given over to us young people, and we were the ones who loaded up the car, got up at 5:something in the morning, drove over to the market, set up the tent and table, and did the playing and passing out of tracts. Sometimes Mom or Dad, or our Pastor or another member from church, would join us later in the day, but sometimes we did it alone. And we loved it either way. I think we encouraged others, just by being young and being out there.

...Breaking strings...eating whoopee pies, given us by the lady who set up her tent next to us...talks with people who need the Lord...strolling around the market and giving tracts to the other people set up to sell things...

...and watching people fall in love.

I mentioned that there was always at least 4 of us out there. That would be me, my brother Curtis, my sister Heather...and our newest The King's String member; the banjo-playing Eugene.

It was his mother who set up next to us and fed us with whoopee pies when we got hungry, by the way. :) And his sister would sometimes join in and play with us on her guitar. But it was Eugene who worked under our tent, playing and playing and playing....and talking. He has a heart to proclaim the gospel, but it wasn't long before we starting wondering if he had a heart for something - I mean someone - else, as well.

Before the summer was out, Heather and Eugene were courting.

Ah yes, I said I'd give you a brief background on our flea market ministry, didn't I? Oh well. You know me; "brief" is completely relative. You must bear with me. I am in a writing mood.

Anyway....last year was a time of forming a lot of bonds with each other as we spent long hours out at the market. Often we were joined by 3-5 other members of the group, and we all got to know each other much better, and create lots of good memories.

This year, we were so excited to get back. Last Saturday is probably the only time we will get over there between now and the wedding, but in May we plan to be back in the routine again.

I noticed a difference this year. On Saturday, we played a little less, and talked a little more. We passed out a lot more tracts and had longer conversations about the gospel. The members who before were quite willing to be out there, but yet shy about doing anything more than playing their instrument, are now learning to put the instrument down every so often and go talk to people. There is an undercurrent of something different in the whole group. I'm excited to see what God will do with us this year.

On Saturday we had a long interaction time with a former Muslim who now rejects any religion at all. He was very hard and bitter and arrogant, but prayer can work miracles. Please pray for him if you think of it. I may never see him again, but he is on my heart.

I would also like to challenge you; what are you doing to proclaim the gospel of Christ? Every person has their own "niche," their own method that suits them best. We use music because it's a tool God's given us. I also like to use writing because that's another tool God's given to me. He may have given you other tools, but I promise you that if you're His He's given you something. Every saved person has been commanded to share the gospel. It's not an option. But don't think of it as a command, really; think of it as the only way to live. He's forgiven you! And those around you are condemned to hell. How can you NOT want to tell them how to be forgiven?

Wow. I'm challenging myself. Blogging is so convicting.

The Secret is Out!

I'll admit it; there's been something going on in our lives that I haven't told you about.

I've wanted to tell you about it. ...But it wasn't really the right time.

I have a friend - a really good friend - who loves the Lord with all her heart. He has shown His love for her, too; He's directed her steps throughout her life, and blessed her with a beautiful smile, a generous heart, and a wonderful plan for her life. He's led her through trials that have perfected her character, and influenced everyone around her.

This friend and I have grown up together, and I love spending time with her. It's her name that's on my lips when someone asks me who my "best friend" is.

But girls don't stay little girls. That part of our lives is left behind now. We've gone through childhood together, into young adulthood, and are so excited to see the Lord directing our steps as we grow older.

And I've done a lot of watching lately. Our dear Heavenly Father has been transforming this friend of mine into a precious young woman, and He has been showing her what His plan for her life is.

In short, He's brought into her life the man she will work alongside 'til death parts them.

The journey has been fascinating to watch. God's hand has been so clear, so loving, so exciting. The young man is the perfect match for my friend, and they make a complete team together. They have both grown in faith, in love, in kindness, and everything else good.

I've been on my own journey too - only mine has been more internal than external. I've truly realized that there is a human relationship higher than all other human relationships, and that it mirrors the love Christ has for His bride. I've realized that I have to grow up whether I want to or not, and I've learned that Christ wants me to face the future and meet it head on, joyfully, full of energy, and full of faith.

You know what? He's faithful. He gives you the grace to meet new things, new changes. He gives you joy when you weren't expecting to feel joyful. He amazes you.

And so I'm allowed, by the grace of our wonderful, precious, Lord, to make an announcement with a heart full of joy, and with a face that looks toward the future with faith and loads of excitement:

MY SISTER IS ENGAGED!!!!!

Heather and Eugene are the dearest couple you could ever hope to meet. Their courtship has been a rippling stream of joy - a few pebbles in the way, but no waterfalls. They have trusted the Lord and sought His guidance at every turn, and He has rewarded them.

The pictures I've posted above were all taken during Heather and Eugene's courtship this year. (They started courting near the end of the summer.) I don't have their engagement photos on my computer yet, but they look great. :)

Eugene fits into our family better than any custom-made brother-in-law or son-in-law we could have designed. We are excited about him truly becoming part of the family, but, honestly, he's been a part of the family for months now. :) :) :) We love him!

We all first met when he joined our gospel bluegrass group, The King's Strings as a banjo and dobro player, ....and what better introduction could he have had? He and the musicians in our family spent a lot of time together playing music and passing out tracts at the flea market this summer.....and the rest is history.

Needless to say, this news in our family has taken up a lot of our thoughts, and so now you know one major reason I haven't been posting as much the past couple of months. We are busy now, planning a spring wedding, but I hope to be on The Fruit of Her Hands more frequently, Lord willing.

It's been a joy to write this post because I know you dear ladies will rejoice with me. God bless you all!

P.S. I love you, Heather, and I'm so happy for you!!!!!!

The Monday after Christmas

Welcome, everyone! I trust you had a very wonderful Christmas, celebrating the fact that God became flesh and dwelt among us.

I had a very relaxing Christmas with my family. It was wonderful to just have all 8 of us together. December has been full of days on end when we never had all 8 of us sitting down together at the same time, so just eating breakfast together on Christmas morning was a gift.

One big reason that we haven't had as much family time this month is because my brother Curtis has gotten a job (praise the Lord!) and because of the shift he works, he's gone almost all the time everyone else is home, so it's been a bit sad, and I have thoroughly enjoyed his time off this week!!! Dad had several days off as well, which is always wonderful.

But, as wonderful as family time is, it isn't the reason for Christmas. Celebrating Christ coming to earth is the important thing, and I'm glad for the time set aside to do so.

Do you remember the Christmas story I posted on here? It was intended for the Christmas Carol service at our church, which was supposed to take place the Sunday before Christmas. Because of the 1.5-2' of snow we received that week, though, services were canceled.

That meant we celebrated our Christmas service last night at church! It was very nice - beautiful music, and a good message.

The King's Strings played one song for the service, and I think it went very well. It was fun to play. We did "Go tell it on the Mountain" mixed with another song.

I didn't get very nervous when we played. It's hard to get nervous with that many people up there with you. Besides, we were enjoying what we were doing.

Then it was time for the dramatic reading...which I had written.

That's when I got nervous.

The man chosen to read the piece did a wonderful, wonderful job. He made the words come to life, and I enjoyed listening to him. He made it sound like he was really Joseph. I liked it very much.

But I still was a little nervous. I had written the story to bring God glory and to make people think of Him, yet a small part of me still had some pride, and still cared about what people would think of my writing, so I got nervous.

It's rough, being human. (It's even rougher admitting it.)

But I didn't need to be worried. After the service many people came up to me and told me they had been blessed by the reading. That, of course, blessed me! I was so happy they had been touched.

Just about everyone who talked with me about the story told me that I ought to publish it. Pastor even said that from the pulpit.

It sounded familiar....almost like what my blog readers had said. :) (Doesn't it make you happy to know I was thinking of you at church last night? :)

I keep wondering if God is hinting to me. In fact, I'm seriously considering writing and publishing a collection of these kinds of stories. Will y'all help me pray about that? I think it would make a good project for the New Year.

I have all sorts of project ideas for the New Year. I hope the next few posts I do will be more structured, and focused on some of these ideas. I have several post ideas running through my mind, on topics like:

~ Time Management; multi-tasking in order to redeem our time

~ Clothes; does the way we dress affect the way we act?

~ The role stress plays in our lives

....and etc. I won't tell you everything I'm thinking of. :)

I must run for now. It's a busy Monday here!

Sleep

I had a lot of trouble sleeping last week. I think my trouble was too much on my mind (...in other words, s-t-r-e-s-s).

I was complaining a bit about being tired on Sunday afternoon, and - randomly - I turned to Dad and asked "Do you have any advice for getting a good night's sleep, since you never seem to have trouble with that?" (He sleeps solid for 3-4 hours or so, and then is ready to go!)

I wasn't expected a very profound answer, and I certainly wasn't expecting to hear anything about how my day affects my night.

"Put your whole heart into whatever you do during the day; work hard, and you'll fall asleep easily at night."

My first impulse was to say, "but I do!" ....But, taking a lesson from past instances, I paused to reflect a moment before claiming innocence.

Was I really putting my whole heart into my day? Was I working hard during the day? Physical work, as well as mental work? Was my stress the result of a body too lazy? Was there such a thing as working too hard to have time to worry?

Ugh - don't you hate it when you can't quite honestly say you've been perfect?

Of course, the first verse that popped into my head was that Proverbs about "the sleep of a laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much, but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep."

Do I have too much abundance?

All these thoughts crowded my head that night. And I knew I have room for improvement.

As the radio commercials say;

..."Something to think about."