What's The Story, Morning Glory?

What do you think stories are for? These stories are classics. There's a reason we all know them. They're a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn't always make sense.--Mary Margaret/Snow White, Once Upon a Time, Pilot

Do you know why Peter Pan would fly to the nursery window of the Darlings' house each night? It was to listen to the stories. In fact, this is why Peter brought Wendy to Neverland with him in the first place. He wanted to hear her stories. Wendy even spends some time on the Jolly Roger regaling Captain Hook and his pirate crew with her stories. The most dastardly of villains and the most impish of boys both softened by stories. 

In the book A Little Princess Sara Crewe becomes the most popular girl in her boarding school. Not for the many lovely gifts her father sends her, but for the stories she tells. When Sara loses everything upon her father's death Sara copes with her loss and her poverty by spinning marvelous stories to believe in. Her stories give her hope and comfort. 

Everyone favorite red-headed orphan, Anne Shirley, (did you really think I was going to say Annie, puh-lease) survived lonely days and lonelier nights with stories. A voracious appetite for reading and a verbosity only a lonely little girl can have made Anne a masterful story-teller. Anne could even imagine away her carrot red hair and her plain name. 

And many of us have fallen in love with their stories. We all love a good story and lean in close to soak it in. Stories are our common language. Like music, stories cross cultural barriers and give us a common experience. Even the simplest stories tackle something of the human condition. 

Hope, grace, redemption, faith, commitment, second-chances, true love, rescue...this is the stuff of good stories. From Cinderella to Les Miserables, from The Brothers Grimm to Charles Dickens, stories are full of emotions, fears, and desires we can relate to. This is why we love stories, we see something of ourselves. Or something we hope to be. 

Our church recently started a series called 'The Story'. The concept of this series that there are two stories constantly taking place, the Upper Story and the Lower Story. The Upper Story is God's plan for all of creation, his utmost desire for us, the ultimate goal. The Lower Story consists of the individual narrative for each of us. We all play a part in God's plan, whether or not we acknowledge it or cooperate with him. Even in our rebellion, we are never out of his story. The Bible tells us, and I believe it to be true, that the best way of living is in tandem with God's plan, aligning my story with His story so that we're telling the same story. 

This idea of 'The Story' is an appealing concept. After all, who doesn't love a good story? And maybe this is why God thought it was fitting to relate to us through stories. He knew that we could understand a story and that we'd come back to it time and again. His Word is full of stories, I believe true stories (yup, I'm one of those evangelical fundamentalist kooks, you caught me!). Stories of loss, worry, fear, and failure. Stories of hope, faith, adventures, and fulfillment. Every story lined with grace, redemption, and second-chances. No one falls too far, too hard, or for too long for God to save them. The only people who are truly lost are the ones who harden in the light. The Bible is full of the human condition. There isn't a single aspect of human life that isn't addressed in some way. Oppression, vengeance, retribution, forgiveness, liberation, loss, loneliness, hatred, exile, victory...

Who knows better the human condition 

than the One who created us? 

Only one. 

Emmanuel, God With Us. 

Literature is full of heroes--Byronic heroes, tragic heroes, super heroes, ordinary heroes, unlikely heroes, even heroines. But only one Hero can really save us and only one Story really tells his tale. 

We all love a really well-crafted and expertly told story. This is what drew Peter Pan to Wendy's window, gave Sara Crewe her friends, and allowed Anne Shirley to survive. It's what packs movie theatres, tunes DVRs for that "can't miss" show, and fills bookshelves. And it's what makes the Bible the number one bestseller of all time. Of all the stories in all the world, it's the one that rings most true (because it is) and brings the most hope. Its Author is our only hope. 

"For I know the plans [the story] I have for you," says the Lord...--Jeremiah 29:11

Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith...Hebrews 12:2

Master Artist, Gourmet Chef, and Me

I don't know very much about art. Truth be told, I still put the sun in the corner of my paper with sunglasses and a smiley face. My art education roommate in college told me that's what kindergartners do. So that's the extent of my art expertise.

But I can recognize a good painting when I see one. At least, what I consider good. And as cliche as his art may have become Thomas Kinkade is known as the 'Painter of Light' for a reason. His paintings seem to glow with something ethereal and divine. The cottages aren't just cozy or his country churches merely quaint, there's something in them that we want to experience.

I am not a great cook either. I have a whole shelf of cookbooks that I've never used. Sticking to the same tried and true recipes, meals aren't very exciting around here. There's a reason my husband gets excited when were invited over for dinner. It's not that I'm a bad cook, just not a very confident cook.

But I can recognize a good meal when I have one. On our honeymoon we splurged on an expensive dinner at one of Bobby Flay's restaurants. Curtis had the steak, I had the lamb chops. His steak was the most perfectly seasoned, perfectly prepared cut of meat either of us had ever tasted. I practically licked my plate clean my lamb chops were so delicious. It was a meal that left us wanting more and we often talk about returning to NYC and eating there again.

Outside of Bar Americain

In the last few days, weeks, I've experienced the true Painter of Light doing work in my life. The Master Artist has been at work, layering in fresh colors, highlighting new details, tenderly adding depth, purposefully giving dimension to His created work--my life, my heart.  The Gourmet Chef has awakened a hunger and thirst for Him.

I've grown up in the church so I have a good amount of base knowledge of the things of God. As I've grown up and matured, through questioning, life experience, and lots of reading I've added to that base knowledge. But I'm afraid to admit that I've been subsisting on boiled down tidbits in certain areas. It's not necessarily my fault or the fault of my teachers but it's been subsistence all the same. And God has decided it's high time I feast on the Word and put some spiritual fat on my base knowledge bones.

This time, instead of teaching me through an emotional experience, or perhaps because I've given my attention willingly instead of forcing His hand to strip me of my distractions, I'm learning differently. I'm seeing  a beautiful methodology being used by the Artist, a rich feast prepared by the Gourmet Chef.

He showed me a lack of discipline in my life and asked me to focus my striving on simply being disciplined to meet with Him intentionally and consistently. The discipline led to a few reminders on obedience, because the two go hand in hand. He asked me to eliminate some of the noise, like Facebook, so that I could hear Him more clearly whenever He called. The Master Artist was adding some depth to my stark canvas outline.

And once that work was begun (this is a lifestyle for a lifetime, not an acquiesce for a moment) He taught me many things about prayer that I had never even considered before, let alone been practicing. The true power and purpose of prayer, the longevity and legacy of prayer, the sacrifice and intercessory abilities of prayer. Too many things to clumsily recount here. Perhaps most importantly, I've come to finally understand the real power of praying His Word, of claiming it for myself and standing on its Truth. It seems absurd that a good little Sunday School girl like me has taken twenty-eight and a half years to really digest that wonderful morsel but I've always been a picky eater.

Every lesson I've ever heard on prayer has boiled it down to some simple formula (A.C.T.S. or each finger on your hand stands for something to include in prayer or just pray the 'Our Father'--it was good enough for Jesus). But that's not it at all. It's not a formula, it's not a boiled down tidbit, something easily contained and explained in one half-hour Sunday school lesson. Prayer is one of the vast wells of Spiritual water, of God's goodness, even of divine mystery. The more you know about prayer, the more there seems to know about prayer, much like God Himself. I believe that's by (His) design. Just as the more you read the Word, the more you keep returning to the Word because it's always the same but forever revealing new depths of truth. Much like God Himself. A masterpiece invites the viewer to gaze a little longer, to come back and see the painting in different light, to consider the beauty from all angles. God does all this and more.

God has taught me about time and numbering my days, about seeing my service to Him as simply organizing and He's doing the doing, about giving worth and precedence to my priorities the way He does. And in all of this, He has taught me about Himself. To learn about the things of God--prayer, Scriptures, service, time, priorities--is to learn about God. And instead of just another fact-finding mission to satiate my intellect, this has been a gourmet feast on God Himself to satisfy my soul. Not satisfaction for all time, but like any nourishment, one meal at a time, one day at a time. Like manna falling from Heaven, more must be gathered and digested each day to keep my soul satisfied.

It's not for the painting to decide when it's finished but the painter. I am clearly an unfinished work but I hope to be one of His masterpieces. I want to be a canvas on which He can leave His unmistakable and indelible signature. I want to be a painting that reveals something inside people want to experience for themselves.

And just as I've been fed on the Word of the Lord, and the meals prepared by others in His name, I want to feed those hungry souls the good things of God. I want to nourish as I've been nourished.

I've been given new light and dimension. I've been strengthened and nourished. And the Master Artist, the Gourmet Chef is just getting started.


*If you're searching for some extra nourishment for your prayer life, these are the books I've been reading:
Handle With Prayer by Charles Stanley
The Prayer of Hannah by Kenn Gividen
Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver
A Busy Woman's Guide to Prayer by Cherri Fuller
On my list to read soon:
Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? by Philip Yancey
The Circle Maker: Drawing Circles Around Your Biggest Dreams and Greatest Fears by Mark Batterson.
Please feel free to leave any titles on prayer that have strengthened and nourished you, or added new light and dimension to your prayer life!

Chasing Joy

Psalm 100

A psalm. For giving grateful praise.

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

    come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the Lord is God.

    It is he who made us, and we are his;

    we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

    and his courts with praise;

    give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

    his faithfulness continues through all generations.

My son thinks our dog is hilarious. Dayton's first true giggle was at Bode jumping around the yard and barking. And this Indian summer when we would walk around and around the pond, just to escape the claustrophobia of our house, we would watch Bode chase butterflies. I'd never actually seen a dog chase butterflies before but leave it to our dog to do it. And then Dayton wasn't the only one giggling. It was hilarious. Our enthusiastic border collie would bound and leap after the butterflies leading him on an erratic chase around the pond. But eventually Bode would lose sight of the butterfly...or interest. Something else interesting would catch his attention or it just wasn't that much fun anymore to chase something so elusive as a butterfly.

I chase joy in the same way. Around and around in circles, bounding and leaping with no methodology to straighten my course, no plan to ensure success. And always, inevitably, I lose interest. Something more interesting and easier to catch steals my attention. Or I just give up all together. It's too hard, this joy thing. It's a nice idea but it's just not me. I wasn't made that way. Some people just can't be joyous...or joyful...whichever.

But that just isn't so. It can't be so. 

First, because the Bible says otherwise. And second, because if that's true then I'm doomed. I'm stuck in my Eeyore to Tigger to Eeyore cycle of my own nature. 

A drama queen since birth, I see the world through a dramatic lens. Gloom! Doom! Stress! Worry! Anxiety!!

EVERYBODY PANIC!!!

But I'm the only one squawking. My mother once said my brother is a duck, the rain waters just roll off his feathers, it doesn't rattle him. I, however, am a trumpeter swan...graceful and peaceful when the weather's just right, but when the rain starts to fall it's time to panic. A swan having a cow. A lovely sight.

And while Christmas is supposed to be all peace on Earth, good will to men, and joy to the world...I'm over here wringing my hands and biting my fingernails. I'm a Scrooge in Nephew Fred's clothing. I seem to embrace Christmas but underneath I'm really fretting and fussing and bah-humbugging about plans and people and people who get in the way of my plans. My plans, my plans, my precious plans. Like Scrooge and his gold, no one better interfere with my plans. Or else the squawking begins. This is not joy. This is not Christmas.

I could list you a thousand reasons excuses for this irritating behavior. I could get all Dr.Phil on you and explain from a psychological point of view why Christmas is now wrapped up with anxiety, why my tinsel is perpetually in a tangle. But there's no real point in it. Talking about what's wrong, doesn't do one blessed thing to move toward what is right. Or perhaps more importantly...righteous. 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 

by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, 

present your requests to God.

Philippians 4:6

So recently convicted of this ridiculous, self-centered behavior I've started chasing joy again.. But not in an erratic chase of circles where I'll eventually just get bored or tired or both and give up. This time I have a plan. And I have some tools.

1) I'm reading Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. It's a book I've been avoiding for almost two years because I knew it would blast me from my comfort zone. And while I hate my comfort zone because it's stinks...I'm comfortable there. But I'm embracing the uncomfortable to move toward God and His joy.

2) I'm starting my own list of one thousand gifts. One thousand blessings from God, one thousand things I'm thankful for, one thousand things to celebrate. And the thing is...now that I've started counting, I see them everywhere. I would like to share this list on here because it may inspire somebody else, but I just can't commit to that. I don't have time to log into this blog as often as I'd like and I'm afraid that I will use that ask an excuse. Can't write in the blog, not worth writing down at all! (I know, because I did that before two years ago...)

3) Instead of asking God for things, even the right/rightoues things, I am choosing to only thank Him instead for the next two weeks. A friend of mine did this and she said it changed her life. I believe her. Because it's been a mere 24 hours and I already feel a change. I think this must be what detoxing feels like.

4) In a similar vein, when my instinct is to complain, grumble, nag, or otherwise squawk, I'm choosing to thank God for that very circumstance instead. This is hard but it is the very re-training and re-shaping that I need. It is taking every thought captive and making it submit. It is choosing to be thankful in all situations. Because the fact of the matter is, I am one of those people who will cry (ah-hem, flip my lid) over spilled milk. And that doesn't honor God, draw me nearer to God, or bringing me any closer to catching that butterfly.

5) Last, I have community and this means some accountability. I've always shied away from accountability because I like to hide. But I won't succeed and I'll never change unless I bare my soul and all my ugly and ask for some help. We are communal creatures, especially women, especially me. So here I am, ready to accept some love and help and prayers from my own community. And my community is pieced together through Facebook and emails and blogs and text and face-to-face friendships. This is community for a postmodern mom chasing joy.

And this time I'm not just chasing joy, but choosing joy. It goes hand in hand. When we choose joy, we catch it and then we give it away. I must choose to be thankful, to celebrate, to wear joy on my lips and harbor it in my heart. And then I will have caught it. It will be mine, no longer an elusive butterfly.

This blog started out being my journey towards a merry heart. And if you've followed me from the beginning, despite my long periods of silence, you know that I've wrestled with this. One minute I'm chasing the butterfly and the next I've seemingly given up and moved on with life. And I have no delusions of conquering this once and for all, I will always struggle. But this feels more like a real change. The real re-wiring of my heart that I have craved for so, so long. And what better time than Christmas?

I imagine that the shepherds, feeling a bit foolish, were chasing joy when they went from stable to stable in search of a babe in swaddling clothes. The wise men were chasing joy as they followed that mysterious star toward the child savior. Mary and Joseph must've been chasing joy as her belly grew swollen with the life of the King inside her. They couldn't have been the type to fuss and fret and squawk so they must've been chasing joy. Anna and Simeon caught their joy at the temple when Jesus came to be dedicated to God. Elizabeth and Zechaeriah caught their joy with the birth of their son, the prelude of the Messiah. These people didn't only chase joy but they chose it in their obedience. Joy is everywhere in the Christmas story, from the lips of Mary in her magnificat, to the returning of Zechariah's voice, to the alleulia of angels. Joy abounds at Christmas time.

And this Christmas, I am choosing joy.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, 

and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: 

and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, 

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you 

good tidings of great joy, 

which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day 

in the city of David a Saviour, 

which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; 

Ye shall find the babe 

wrapped in swaddling clothes, 

lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel 

a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, 

and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Luke 2:9-13

Roaring Like a Lion

My favorite part in 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' movie is midway through the battle. Peter and Edmund are entrenched in a hopeless battle against Jadis, the White Witch. She has more soldiers on her side, she has the power to turn their soldiers into stone, and she's fearless. But they (and their "men") refuse to surrender. Peter knows that he could lose, that he probably should lose in terms of what seems most likely to happen, but he's going to continue to fight 'for Narnia and for Aslan!'. And then...just as the scales really tip in Jadis' favor, the music changes, and the point of view sweeps up the mountain to the top of the ridge. There stands Lucy, Susan, Mr.Tumnus, and of course, Aslan who announces his arrival with a mighty roar. (This is the part when I get chills and tears come to my eyes). Hope comes flooding down the mountain infusing Peter with new strength, and Jadis is drained of hers as she whispers "impossible", for she herself had killed him the night before. It is impossible, for everyone except the Son of the Emperor Across the Sea. For Him, nothing is impossible.

With God all things are possible.

--Matthew 19:26

The Newsboys have recently released a song entitled 'God's Not Dead (Like a Lion)'. For obvious reasons this song and this scene in that movie are related to me. Aslan was dead but defeated death and is now roaring to the rescue of the ones he loves and died for. Lewis didn't come up with this lion metaphor on his own; the Bible calls Jesus the Lion of Judah,  Judah being one the names for the Israelite people. In his life Jesus hardly came across as a lion. He was meek and mild when people wanted him to overthrow the Roman government. He took and endured abuse and slander with staggering humility. Those who believed in Him knew that He could put an end to it and was choosing not to; those who did not believe in Him mocked and challenged Him to come off the cross or call down angels. This does not seem lionish--any of it. But within Him he had the strength of the Lion, the strength of God, in fact. And that's what turned back death, defeating the deep magic, as Lewis puts it in his timeless stories.

"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" 

cried Lucy and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan 

when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards."

Unlike in the Narnia stories, Jesus didn't come roaring back into the middle of a battle. He came quietly into a garden where a young woman had come to tend for His broken, lifeless body. But inwardly, I imagine, there was a battle inside Mary. A battle of unsettling doubt and confusion, of heart-breaking loss and emptiness. Like the Pevencey children, Jesus had saved Mary, had loved her and cared for her as He did all his dear friends. And without Him, the pain must have been unbearable, very much like a hopeless uphill battle. Within the tenderness of his speech, maybe there was a roar...a roar against the darkness surrounding Mary and the other disciples. A roar against all doubt, fear, worry, and regret. A roar that allowed doubting Thomas to believe, that reinstated Peter, and that finally turned John from a 'son of thunder' to an apostle of Love. A roar that allowed me, in the 21st century, to make a turning point and conquer my own demons. Now that's a mighty roar. 

My God's not deadHe's surely aliveHe's living on the insideRoaring like a lion

--God's Not Dead (Like a Lion), The Newsboys

The Only Legacy Worth Leaving

The first time I heard this song I was twenty years old, sorting out the facts of my life, and trying to figure out how to really walk with God, rather than just believe in Him. It was one song on a compilation album I bought at a used CD place in town. That cd set became the soundtrack for my early twenties along with a couple of others. But this song found a special place in my heart, it resonated with me. It will be one I will carry with me for the rest of my life not only because it inspires me but because it reminds me of people I love. Or better yet, people that have loved me.

I want to leave a legacy. How will they remember me?

Did I choose to love?
Did I point to you enough to make a mark on things?

I want to leave an offering.

Child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically.

 I want to leave a legacy.

My grandparents will leave a legacy when their time on this old Earth is over. They have chosen to live for Christ so much so that they have come to embody and symbolize love itself. If God is love, and we are being made into Christ everyday through the power of the Spirit, then we are becoming love. I believe this to be true not because its a pretty idea but because I see two old souls becoming more and more like love everyday.

I've been irregularly blessed. I not only have my grandparents legacy to look to and draw from, but the legacies of others just like them. Today we laid to rest our dear friend and neighbor, Lester Pierce, a man who in just two short years became a source of inspiration and wisdom for Curtis and I. At the funeral I listened to person after person stand up and tell about the impact he had on their lives and I realized that somewhere I'd heard this before. And I realized it was everything I've said about my grandparents. And as I looked around the church I saw others that have lived in and will leave a similar legacy. These are the folks you don't necessarily notice as they teach Sunday school, organize funeral dinners, work with the youth, clean the church, drive the bus, plan activities for VBS, or get down on their knees everyday to do their best work in prayer. These people blend into the background sometimes with humility, meekness, and love being their defining characteristics. My grandmother gets down right flustered when people make a fuss over her contributions. She, like Lester, didn't do the work for the recognition--they did the work for the Lord. They did it out of love, first for Christ then for others because He loves them.

I've come to the conclusion that the best legacy that can be left is one of love. True love. Not The Princess Bride or The Notebook kind of true love.  We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.--1 John 3:16 This is true love. Love that sacrifices sleep, me-time, and self to serve the Lord, to help one another, to lend a hand, to say a prayer. When we give up our lives to help and serve with love in our hearts that is true love. And that is something sorely needed in the world today.

One by one these saints travel to heaven and we who have been so blessed to know them are left with their legacy in our care. I want to do right by them, and what I've learned is that the only way to do that is to do right by God. By keeping my eyes on the Cross and my feeted pointed toward Calvary and my heart broken for Him, I may just be counted among those who loved truly.

A Hurricane Tamed (or Resting in Gratitude)

Typically when I read my Bible I like to have a plan. I know this is surprising for all of you. I feel frustrated wasting precious time flipping through pages, trying to figure what to read--Old Testament or New? Narratives or directives? Poetry or prophesy? Too many choices. Give me a reading plan to follow and I'll be happy.

But the last couple nights I've not looked at it that way. It finally dawned on me that the precious time I spend flipping pages, trying to decide what to read is part of the quiet time. Instead of me deciding what I need to read, I've been letting that small quiet stirring (Holy Spirit) lead me. And I've been led to the Psalms. Psalm 34 on Tuesday, Psalm 104 on Wednesday. Tuesday I was searching for peace, Wednesday searching for words to praise. It really only make sense that I would respond for the peace I was given with praise.

But I'm not really one to stop and praise God, if I'm going to be painfully honest here. Oh, sure, I'm grateful for dazzling sunsets, expansive twinkling night skies, the simple beauty of a carefully crafted flower. Yes, I'm relieved and grateful when things don't blow up in my face or don't all crumble to bits. I can think and talk for hours on God's greatness--both in size and in goodness. But all of this 'feel good' doesn't really translate into sincere praise for God. I have a hard time stopping to just revel in His protection and provision. To rest in gratitude.

Rest in gratitude. That just came to me and I think it's hitting the proverbial nail right on it's proverbial metal head. I think there is a certain amount of resting involved in praising God. When I'm truly taking time to praise Him, to thank Him for what He's done, to think about and rejoice in His goodness and grandeur, I'm not doing anything else. I'm not asking for the next thing, worrying about the next thing, planning for the next thing. And for someone like me, whose mind is always going around 100 miles an hour with frenzied thoughts, it's difficult to not simply give a nod to Heaven, and then start on the next thing.

I'm learning, ever so slowly, that taking time to really praise God, to give myself a mental and emotional break by dwelling only on His goodness, is really a healthy choice for me. It's healthy mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and I would argue, even physically.

To illustrate this...Monday night I knew I was headed into a big, fat, busy week. Preparing for a licensing check at work and the first youth swim & study at our house--happening on the same day--was looming in front of me, stressing me out. Monday night I got virtually no sleep. My brain wouldn't turn off. Consciously I wasn't thinking about the things that were subconsciously keeping me awake. My brain will appear to be thinking about stupid things like TV shows, cookies, funny things the dogs did...but underneath the gears are churning because of the things I am worried about.

I already told you that Tuesday night I was looking for some words about peace. I found this: The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all (Psalm 34:19). I wrote down some thoughts about righteousness (which I may share someday), and instead of 'praying' about my problems (which is really just whining directed at God), I simply rested in these words. And I slept.

Last night, Wednesday, my heart was full of praise. All I wanted to do was to find some words to praise God, and I found this: I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the LORD. (Psalm 104: 33-34). The last couple of verses of a beautiful poem about God's mastery and wisdom in creation. After writing my thoughts, I took a few minutes to really praise God, to agree with the words of the Psalmist, and then I slept through the night.

Reading my Bible, praising God, thinking about Him, allows my brainwaves to settle. The hurricane of thoughts dissipates. Jesus calmed the storm out on the Sea of Galilee, He can, will, and does calm the storm in my mind--when I do my part to allow Him. When I'm not flipping through the pages of His letter to me in frustration, needing a plan to follow. When I'm quiet, not in control, and really there for Him amazing things can happen. A stressful week is tamed, a roaring lion turned into a purring cat, a hurricane turned into a soft spring rain.

Empty Arms But A Full Heart

A note from my heart: I wrote this post over a week ago. It's honest, it's personal, it's sincere...all things I believe this blog needs to be in order to be worth writing and worth reading. And I felt that I needed to write this, not only for myself, but because there may be someone who needs to know they're not alone. I am so thankful for the brave women who write, women I will never meet this side of heaven, because their honesty lets me know that I am okay and I am not alone. I would be remiss to not pass it on and share my story so someone else can know that they are okay and they are not alone.

There was a certain man... whose name was Elkanah... He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.
... Because the LORD had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her...till she wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?”
 Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his chair by the doorpost of the LORD’s house. In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the LORD, weeping bitterly. And she made a vow, saying, “LORD Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”
As she kept on praying to the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.”
 “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”
Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him.”
She said, “May your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.
Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the LORD and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah made love to his wife Hannah, and the LORD remembered her. So in the course of time Hannah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel,saying, “Because I asked the LORD for him.” (1 Samuel 1: 1-20)

I love this story because, you see, I am Hannah. I've been tested, blood drawn, womb checked, one test left me crippled in pain and throwing up for hours. The tests have yielded some answers but no results. Month after month I force a smile and say to my dear husband, vacant! As if it is a room for rent. Which maybe it is. A temporary home for someone--someone who may never come to hang the 'occupied' sign on the door.

My husband is Elkanah. He loves me. He sees the pain, the agony in my face. He knows he can't fix it. He tries to say the right thing, never knowing for sure what the right thing is. The poor man never knows if this month I'll shrug it off and really be okay with it, or if I'm going to sit quietly in the bathroom and cry. Why do women always hide in the bathroom to cry?

I can only imagine how much deeper Hannah's grief was at having to share a husband and know that his other wife could do what she could not. How much more broken did she feel? Because that is exactly how I feel. All broken. What good is a vase that can't hold water? Like the Island of Misfit Toys--a caboose with square wheels. Broken. Useless. There is a reason the text uses words like 'anguish', 'deeply troubled', 'grief'.

These are the words we associate with mourning, with loss. Isn't that what Hannah is doing? Mourning her loss? Mourning the closed womb that cannot bear life? Mourning the reality that she may never feel the kick in her belly, the pain of contractions, behold the cry at birth? She has every reason to mourn. Every month is an egg unfertilized, an egg dying, an egg that might've been a child.

I wonder if women talked about it in those days. Kind women, not just 'her rival'. I wonder if Hannah had a mother, a sister, a friend who tried to comfort her. With good intentions they tell her that she still has time, they give her remedies and tell her what worked for another friend. They tell her to pray to God. They tell her to stay strong. Oh, isn't that what Hannah wants more than anything? The strength to bear the anguish of a barren womb. It's so hard to be strong sometimes.

We see what desperate women will do for a child in Sarai, before she became Abraham's princess and the mother of Israel. So desperate for a child to raise, she pushes another woman into her husband's bed. Never thinking of what her feelings afterward would be, she can only picture the perfect ten fingers and ten toes, the cooing and crying, diapers hanging on the line with her husband's cloaks. The things women do in despair.

Her granddaughter-in-law, Rachel, would follow suit. Trying to compete with her homely sister who bore their shared husband child after child, Rachel pushed her servant into Jacob's bed. She claimed her servant's child as a victory for her, and yet, still felt empty, broken, anguish. This is how we got the Twelve Tribes of Israel. Rivalry between sisters, one loved but infertile, one unloved but fertile, and two servant girls dragged into the baby drama. Rachel died birthing Benjamin as Joseph proved to not be enough for this desperate mother, and the poor child is saddled with the name 'son of my trouble' until daddy renamed him 'son of my right hand'.

The Bible doesn't tell us much about Elizabeth's infertility journey. We see more of Zecheriah's unbelief at what Gabriel is trying to tell him. There is doubt because perhaps they've finally come to terms with the vacant womb. Maybe they've found a way to laugh like I try to do. Maybe they've embraced other people's little ones, doing for other people's children what they would've done for their own. Maybe they've just finally come to grips with it all and then this angel appears and throws it all into chaos again. I can hardly blame Zecheriah's doubts anymore than I blame Sarai's laughter in Genesis. It's hard to keep believing when hope seems to dwindle away every month. Hard to believe even when God Himself is telling you to hang on.

“The Lord has done this for me,” she said. “In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.” --Luke 1:25

We want this verse to be outdated. We want to believe that in the 21st century with the women's lib movement and our enlightened minds that a woman is not disgraced when she can't have children. Let me tell you...that's not so. Every time someone looks at you and wonders just what you're waiting for when the reality is you've been trying for a long time. Every time someone asks you when you're going to have kids, and you hesitate before answering. Sometimes I smile and say, when the good Lord wills it. And sometimes I just smile and shrug, and hope that my eyes don't betray the pain.

I vacillate between peace and agony. Sometimes I can hold on tightly to God and His ways and find peace there. We've been trying for a little over two years, I know people who tried for over ten before getting pregnant. I think about adoption, I have a cousin who adopted a son. There are so many little ones already who need to have a family, to be loved. Sometimes I can even find peace in knowing that I may not be a mother, but I am already an aunt and a friend. There are plenty of small ones in my life that I can love on and teach them what I know. Other times I pour out my sadness. It aches, it's awful, it's heartbreaking to wonder if I'll ever have that joy that I've always, always expected.

But I don't want to become a woman desperate for a child. First, what kind of life is that for me? I am more than a womb, vacant or full. I am more than a would-be mother. I am a child of God, an intentionally designed creation, a much loved princess of the Most High King. Second, what kind of life will that make for a child, should I have one? If I've become desperate for a little one, I won't be able to let him go, to raise him as I should. My life will revolve around the little one, neglecting myself, my husband, my God. This isn't healthy for a child. Parents that give up their own lives, figuratively speaking, for their children are really doing them a disservice.

I love this story of Hannah. She is in agony, but not despair. Her husband is sensitive to her breaking heart and does what he can to alleviate her pain.  Eli comforts her but doesn't try to give her a bunch of answers. He simply prays over her, blesses her. And when Hannah receives this blessing she gets the elusive peace she's been seeking. She worships God, she eats food. She takes care of herself, and then, she gets pregnant. And she gives the child to God. This child who will become the anointer and advisor of kings.

I've written about Hannah before, but I didn't tell you why. I've wrestled with this for a long time. Wondering if I should be honest about my journey, if I could be. But I've been feeling God leading me from the darkness and into the light. There isn't shame in my journey as I am sometimes tricked into feeling. And God has been whispering into my heart that my husband and I don't need to shoulder this pain alone. Until now we've kept this 'news' in close family circles. In fact, many members of our families don't know. I don't want to be smothered by pitying looks and cliches. I just want to be loved and valued for what I already am. And, more than anything, I want people to come alongside in prayer. Praying that we will have wisdom to know what God wants, that we will hear His voice prompting us in this journey, that we will have strength to take the steps required. Praying for a miracle. And praying that if that miracle never comes that we'll see the blessing hidden in that.

(Sign)Posts on A Journey

Commit. My word for the year. Unlike words such as 'joy', 'patience', or even 'prayer', my word doesn't speak to one specific goal or attribute. And I think God designed it that way. He pressed the word on my heart, I know it's the one word in all the words I know that He wanted me to focus on and filter all my prayers through. Commit. But to what?

1. To being committed.
• Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people. (Ephesians 6:7)
• I tend to be non-committal. Sometimes I just look for a way to flake out. I suppose that is the curse of modern society, but I am called to be above that. If I say I will do it, do it. Because whatever I do it's for the Lord. Even if it doesn't look or feel like it.
2. To believing with the purest most refined belief that anything is possible for she who believes.
• But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart. I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you’ve received it, it will be yours. (Mark 11:23-24)
• That Even I Could Receive a Miracle
3. To loving
• No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us.(1 John 4:12)
• 'To love another person is to see the face of God'--LesMis
• Loving my husband the way God intended, loving my family the way God intended, loving my friends, my students, the youth, my neighbors, my enemies. Loving the way God intended. Not the same for each person or relationship, but the way that God designed.
4. To teaching
1. The teaching of your word gives light,so even the simple can understand.(Psalm 119:130)
2. Until I get there, focus on reading the Scriptures to the church, encouraging the believers, and teaching them. (1 Timothy 4:13)
3. But anyone who obeys God’s laws and teaches them will be called great in the Kingdom of Heaven. (Matthew 5:19)
4. Teach, encourage, give light. I must be committed to sharing what I know, what I have been taught or else it is hiding my light under a bushel. And that would be pointless.
5. To writing
• God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. (1 Peter 4:10)
• I write because it's what I was created to do. I know this now. I've stopped fighting it, or wanting to change it,  or believing that I have to be writing something important to be writing at all. I write because it blesses God.
6. To leading
• But Moses protested to God, “Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”  God answered, “I will be with you." (Exodus 3:11-12)
• "Give me the wisdom and knowledge to lead them properly, for who could possibly govern this great people of yours?” (2 Chronicles 1:10)
• Although I've resisted and fought against it, God has given me some leadership qualities. There are areas where I need to be committed to forging ahead, perhaps forging a new path, and lead people. It's a terrifying thought, and really very humbling because like Moses and Solomon, I realize I can only do it with God.
7. To making the most of every opportunity to do good in these evil times.
• So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days. Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do. (Ephesians 5:15-17)
• Seize the day the way God intended. Use every opportunity to share the truth of the Good News. Don't wait to live the abundant life that Christ came to give.
8. To repenting of my negativity.
• We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.(2 Corinthians 10:5)
• Committed to breaking my chains of negative thoughts and words. I'm one of those people that despite the joy in my heart the words on lip are negative. Not always critical as much as laced with disappointment. I have great joy, I just struggle to express it and dwell on it. Negative thoughts can be so pushy...so taking them captive until they can behave!
9. To embracing gratitude
• Because you are my helper,I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 63:7)
• I will shout for joy and sing your praises,for you have ransomed me. (Psalm 71:22-24)
• This is the day the Lord has made.We will rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)
• I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)
• Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! (Philippians 4:4)
• I've struggled with this in spite of my desire to notice and record my blessings from the Lord. I find that in the busyness of life I've been unable to stay committed to really celebrating what I've been given and embracing gratitude as a way of life.
10. To studying His word so that it might change me
• “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders.Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6: 4-8)
• God's word is living and active. It has the power to change, even me as stubborn and thick-headed as I am. By studying, memorizing, pouring of His words over and over my life will change. He will speak to me, He will change me, and I will actually be able to commit to all these things.

Because by no means have I been able to do that. I probably never will be fully committed to each of these things at the same time. But that's why this is a journey and a prayer. It is the prayer of my heart to learn what it means to commit all I do to the Lord, and allow Him to tell me what I need to be committed to. I've linked up many of my previous posts because it is a testimony to this journey, this revelation on commitment. And I am certain there will be many more posts along the way. (Sign)Posts on a journey so I can look back and see how far I've come.

The Red Letters

As I shared before I've been preparing to teach the youth group about Jesus. The specific question being 'Who Is Jesus?' As I've delved into the world of scholarship and even more so into my heart to come up with some kind of intelligible answer dcTalk's song 'The Red Letters' kept coming to mind.

 

I've never actually owned a red letter Bible. I've always wanted one though. I love the idea of Jesus' words being visually different from everything else. And I appreciate the symbolism of red letters. Not green, blue, or purple letters. Red letters.

 

I'm really grateful that I was able to do this lesson as we're drawing closer to Easter. Every Easter and Christmas season I long for it to be meaningful. I have lofty goals of reading all the gospels and lots of books about those holidays. I thirst to truly appreciate the magnitude of both events. God drawing close and making that closeness possible for forever and always. The bridging of the chasm. History and the cosmos forever altered. It's so hard to fathom the true magnitude of what He really did, so it's much easier to simply enjoy the holidays rather than wrestle with their meaning.

 

And no matter my lofty goals or good intentions I inevitably get distracted and never achieve what I want. Christmases go by and spending time trying to really grasp the meaning of it all has been thrown by the wayside to do shopping, wrap gifts, and send Christmas cards. Easters go by much the same way. And I'm always left feeling as if I just missed a marvelous opportunity.

 

The reality is I don't need a holiday to spend that kind of time grappling with the magnitude of God on Earth, but the holidays are full of ritual that can coincide really well with it. A catharsis happens on Christmas morning or Good Friday & Easter morning when I've really soaked in the reality of Jesus. And thanks to this youth lesson I've jumped in the deep end of studying and searching.

 

And I've been discouraged because I'm waaaay behind in a Lent reading plan of the gospels and a book of readings for Lent. I've been feeling like I've failed on my goal before really getting started. But God impressed upon me that it doesn't matter whether or not I stay on track with a plan created by man to study Him and His word. What matters is that I do the studying regardless of the plan. It doesn't really matter if I get through all 4 gospels before Easter as much as I read to find Him in the red letters. Much could be lost if I rush through the readings to simply meet a deadline. So much more can be found if I take this journey to Easter with God instead.

 

I want to close this post with the lyrics to dcTalk's 'The Red Letters' (and here is a link to youtube so you can listen to the song yourself. The bridge is a little funky but it is classic dcTalk...and the song is profoundly powerful). And I want to invite you to spend some time in the red letters and let Jesus guide you through His life. This Easter can be an experience and not just another Easter Sunday if you meet Jesus on the way.

 

 

Pages filled with a holy message
Sealed with a kiss from heaven
On a scroll long ago
Phrases, words that were bound together
Now have the power to sever
Like a sword evermore

Heed the words divinely spoken
May your restless heart be broken
Let the supernatural take hold

(chorus)
There is love in the red letters
There is truth in the red letters
There is hope for the hopeless
Peace and forgiveness
There is life in the red letters
In the red letters

One man came to reveal a mystery
Changing the course of history
Made the claim he was god
Ageless, born of a virgin Mary
Spoke with a voice that carried through the years
It's persevered

Heed the words divinely spoken
May your restless heart be broken
Let the supernatural take hold

(repeat chorus)

 

(bridge)
What you say moves me, revelation, come and take me
The more I look [the more I look] the more I see [the more I see]
The word of God [the word of god] is what I need

Oh yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, it's the book of love
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It's the book of love

 

(repeat chorus)

Speak to me, breathe in me new life [x2]
Let him in your heart [x4]

A Cranky Dog and a Tummy Ache

I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with Bode today. He snapped at Shiloh when he came over to sniff the teddy bear Bode was cuddling with. He growled at me when I rubbed his tummy--twice. And he's piddled on our carpet twice today, we think out of fear...but he'd made some major strides on this so it's unusual. I can't figure out what's bothering him. He's eating and drinking normally, and sometimes he seems like his usual playful self. He does have a scrape on his back left leg that he won't let me look at. But he's not limping, favoring that leg, or licking it so I don't think it's bothering him that much. I really can't figure out what's going on today.

His reactions got me thinking about how I react when I'm not feeling well. Like today. My tummy has been upset today, and the dogs woke me up early, so I'm not in the best of moods. I find myself snapping at Curtis over incredibly inane things (like the printer being out of ink) and being really annoyed at not getting my way. I've reverted to the disposition of a cranky two year old. Brilliant.

I'm sympathetic that Bode seems to not be feeling well, but I don't appreciate his growling at me and snapping at me. I'm trying to help him and he won't let me. But I'm doing the same thing. I don't feel good so I'm snarling and snapping, feeling annoyed and irritable. Bode's a dog so I don't suppose he'll ever learn to behave otherwise, and I'm not sure it would be fair for me to expect him to. However, I'm a human and I have to learn to rise above myself sometimes.

I read an interesting article on 'emotional sobriety' a couple days ago. The concept being that emotions are something that can be managed, much like an addiction, so that it no longer controls you. It's not so much about turning off emotions and not let anything ruffle your feathers, as much as learning how to cope with having your feathers ruffled. And my goodness, do I need help with my ruffly feathers.

Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.--Proverbs 25:28

The imagery there is very powerful. Imagine how it used to be--in the old country--it doesn't have to be as far back as Solomon's time, think back to images of medieval Europe. We've all seen a Robin Hood movie or two. Imagine how the city was surrounded with a tall, impenetrable wall, always guarded, always well-defended, protecting the inhabitants inside. And the people who lived outside the city, and thus the city wall, would always rush inside in times of trouble. The city walls provided safety and security in otherwise perilous situations.

And, so it would seem, self-control serves the same purpose. It guards my emotions from being overtaken by outsiders. I have a choice to either defend my city--my heart, my mind, my relationships--by keeping my wall of self-control well armed, or I can allow my wall to be broken through.

I don't think self-control is a choice, as much as a lifestyle. Like patience and joy, it's not something I can ask God for and simply be uploaded with. It's not an app for my heart. Self-control has to be learned, and can only be learned in a moments when I would normally go haywire. Like today. I have a choice right now to turn around today by choosing self-control, or I can allow my city to be ransacked by unchecked emotions.

I think it is harder to make positive choices when I'm not taking care of myself by eating right and getting enough rest and things like that. The most important thing is whether or not I'm nourishing my soul with daily helpings for the Word and concentrated time in prayer.

I have to tell you...I took a break in the midst of writing this post. Curtis needed the computer. So I decided to take some time to read my Bible. I'm working on  Lent reading plan of the gospels, and so I had to finish up Matthew today. I feel centered now having spent some time studying the Bible and reading about Jesus. It's amazing how I always feel so nurtured and nourished after getting with God.

And in the middle of my Bible study, my stomach stopped hurting and I actually got hungry. I haven't been truly hungry in several days, I've just been eating because I have to. Then, when I finished Matthew, I decided to try to check Bode one more time to see if I can figure out what's wrong. He growled at me at first when I tried to look at his leg but I gave him some space to calm down so he came back and laid down. I rubbed his tummy (what dog can resist a tummy rub?) and told him he was good, and then I carefully picked up his back left leg. He didn't even twitch or 'grrrr'. Good news is his leg is almost healed so I honestly think he was just tired. He slept while I was reading and he seems to be feeling better.

Funny how that works, huh?

Someday I'll Sparkle

This has been a very long exhausting week. Working with kids is not always easy or fun. It is so much more than coloring and keeping shoelaces tied. Especially when some of those kids have special needs of one type or another. Makes for a long week.

And my kitty ran away.

So all week I've been grasping at Biblical snippets of truth and strength just to survive. I open a cabinet door to get out something for a student and whisper...

"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."

"Do everything without arguing or complaining."

"This is the day the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it."

"Cast all your cares on Him for He cares for you."

And it is somehow enough to sustain me through the moment...through the hour...through the day.

I've read my Bible more this week than I have in a long, long time. In fact, I finally finished reading through the whole Bible chronologically. I've never read the entire Bible before--so many of those Old Testament books seemed dry and unnecessary. Turns out those were the books I loved reading the most. And so I've just finished up the last of the New Testament letters and Revelation. Because of my spiritual ADD it took me far longer than it should've to read through--about 22 months. But its really awesome to have finished the entire Bible. Now I have to decide where to pick up again.

I read before work--and I never thought I'd be able to get up early to read my Bible. I'm not a morning person. At all. Not even a little bit. I read my Bible at work a couple times this week. Turns out its really good to disengage from all that 'stuff' and get readjusted mid-day. I read my Bible at night a few times this week. This is my normal reading time. I love that calm feeling of studying the Word right before bed. So much better than just trying to turn off all the frenetic energy of the day without downshifting.

Found some great new tunes. Currently listening to David Crowder Band's Church Music album. Loving SMS (Shine). I heard this song on the radio Tuesday evening and it felt like free-falling into peace. Tuesday had been a particularly stressful day...like today. And the soothing and uplifting melody coupled with the pleading lyrics 'shine your light so I can see you, pull me up, I need to be near you, hold me I need to feel loved, can you overcome this high? let's overcome." Exactly the prayer of my tired heart.

Apparently the days that I manage to wake up in a good mood, feeling positive and uplifted are the days that I am torn down and torn apart by 6pm. I drag myself home looking and feeling nothing like the way I left. It's a discouragement for sure. Frustrating. Disheartening. That the more joy I find, the harder my days become, robbing me of that joy. Teeter-totter, up and down. This is why emotions should not dictate faith, joy, or the outcome of a day.

As I write this I have to admit I still feel downtrodden. My shoulders are heavy, my heart is heavy. I feel on the brink of failure as I have all week. But I know that this is a temporary distraction designed to keep me from trusting the One who can save me. Which is why I keep fighting to hear His voice through the clammor. I grasp for those verses, I thrist for music, I soak up His words. It sustains me in my frailest moments. The ones when my nerves are frayed to the breaking point.

I was brushing my teeth on Tuesday night before bed and thinking. Some of my best thoughts come doing innane things like that. It occurred to me that diamonds are formed by carbon under immense pressure for a very long time. In fact, everything we consider precious and valuable is created through harsh experiences. Pearls, gold, silver, diamonds...And the Bible makes us of this analogy. God in fact promises that we will undergo a similar process, being refined by pressure and fire and abrasive situations. It will hurt, it will be hard but we will be sustained. We won't be crushed or burnt. And in the end, we'll be so much closer to His desire for us.

So tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend. My sweet mama is coming to visit and I am so grateful to see her. Nothing quite like a mama after a hard week. One of the ways God's love is tangible...my mom's warmth, my husband's marvelous ability to make me laugh no matter how bad it's been, Shiloh licking my face, Bode snuggling close, music which nurtures my soul, words which strengthen my spirit. This is how God loves me. And if I just hold on to that, someday I will sparkle like a bright, shiny diamond, hand-polished by Him.