You Know You've Been Blogging Too Much When...

...you get up from your seat at Subway's in the Wal-Mart and immediately feel the veins in the back of your legs do some sort of weird spasm as you straighten out your leg, and you pray, "Dear sweet Lord, please don't let there be a massive blood clot travelling straight from my tree stump legs to my brain, killing me instantly and leaving my poor children all alone in Wal-Mart!"

One Hard Rock Heffer

Your Theme Song is Born to Be Wild by Steppenwolf

"I like smoke and lightning Heavy metal thunder Racin' with the wind And the feelin' that I'm under" A total independent spirit, you can't be held down or fenced in. You crave the feeling of wind on your face... and totally freedom.

What's Your Theme Song?

Athanasian Creed -- I Think They Make An Ointment For That

I was sitting here on a dreary March day having just put Bud and Li'l G down for naps/quiet time, and I decided to take a swing at some of the papers I've got to write for my Lay Ministry course. I pulled out my book for the Lutheran Identity course, entitled, "On Being Lutheran." (It's on my bookshelf to the right...) I had to respond to the questions for the chapter of my choice from the assigned reading, so I chose the chapter that I knew the least about, which was about the Athanasian Creed.

"The Atha-who?" you ask??? Precisely my thoughts. Apparently, the Lutheran Church confesses the Apostle's Creed, the Nicene Creed, and the Athanasian Creed. Check them out here if you aren't sure what I'm talking about. I have grown up in a family that has expressed their spirituality within the Lutheran denomination since the day I hit the skids. I had to memorize the Apostle's Creed for confirmation (although I had it down well before then), and after having dated a "good Catholic boy" for two years in high school, also was very familiar with the Nicene Creed, which is so beautifully worded. However, in all my 31 years (yipes! Did I just admit to being 31?!?), I have never even heard of this other one.

"GGG, why do we care about this?? Can't we just hear more about the birdie drama or something fun like that?!?" No! I promise I'm trying to get to a point here...

If you read through the Athanasian Creed, pop yourself some popcorn first and get a good, frosty Coke. It's long. (Which is very un-Lutheran, but then again, it was written well before Luther's time.) At any rate, here is the point that really struck me today (speaking on the true identity of Christ):

"...equal to the Father in divinity, subordinate to the Father in humanity..."

*Insert picture here of GGG's hair being blown straight back off her head... Am I the only person to whom this is a real revelation?!? OMG! Finally, someone has put something into words that I can understand with which I have wrestled for so many years.

Picture it: Texas, 1976-2008. A girl, born to a Christian, Lutheran family grows up, learning more about Jesus and God and growing her faith all her life, she struggles even as an adult to understand Jesus' relationship to the Father. What has perplexed me for years is the abstract concept of the Trinity, but especially the Father and the Son. When Jesus was here on earth, He prayed to the Father. The Father expressed being pleased with Him. He cried out to the Father on the cross. The Father turned His head during the fulfillment of the sacrifice of the the Perfect Lamb. How does this work if both are God??? That one phrase from the creed spelled it out for me so clearly: Yes, indeed, the Father and the Son share equal billing on the topic of divinity, but God the Son, through the state of His humanity, had to be subordinate to God the Father.

The word subordinate was very carefully chosen to create an accurate word picture for us to understand. If you click on that link to the FreeDictionary online, it gives several meanings for this word. One is that one person is under the control of another. Yet another is to make someone dependent or subservient. What I'm taking away here is the image of Jesus, praying in the garden that the cup would pass but still wanting God's will to prevail, put Himself in the position of giving God the Father control over Him. By being obedient, He was being subservient to God's will. And in our humanity, that is something that we must strive to do as well. Jesus modeled perfect submission so that we would humble ourselves to submit to God. And you little femi-nazis lurking in cyber-space who think, like our ol' friend Gloria Steinem, that submission means a woman in high heels and a dog collar chained to the stove or the washing machine to do every evil whim of that devil you call Husband, cool your jets a minute, please. Submission, when viewed in the light of the word "subservient," really means to surrender control. To trust. To get out of the way so God can do His thing. Not to be forced to eat rotten bananas for the rest of your life.

I really feel like I got to know a little more about Jesus today, even through that one little phrase. I sincerely hope you all don't think I'm telling you what to believe (hey, if you want that, just read the opening line to the creed! Ouch!!). I just had a personal revelation and I was giddy with anticipation to get to share it with everyone.

Insanes, Trains, and Automobiles

This has been such a busy week! I can hardly count the amount of time I have spent running around town, taking kids to preschool, attending meetings, and working on stoking all the fires I've got going with my various obligations.

Today, after dropping off an ad that will run in the paper for my church, Bud was pitching a wall-eyed fit to go see the choo-choos he had spyed on our way to the newspaper. Since the historic trains are located a block away, I figured this would be a thrilling detour for my train-fanatic 3 year-old son.

As we're driving over to the train station, we noticed one or two people kinda wandering the streets. This is not uncommon in this part of town, as there are homeless people who live under bridges and in any type of uninhabited, unpatrolled shelter they can find. There was one lady in particular who was standing at the side of the road next to the bus station. I smiled pleasantly as I drove my middle class-mobile past her, with my Britax carseats in the back of my car.

Bud exploded with enthusiasm once he was unbuckled and the door opened, much like King of the Wind bursting out of the gates at the Preakness. Not only did we get to walk through the engineer's area on the steam engine, there was also a chain of diesel engines refueling right across the way, which we got to observe. As we were walking alongside the historical train, taking in all the choo-choo wonder, I started thinking about how easy it would be for someone to come and either: a) snatch my child, or b) kill me and snatch my child. Morbid? ABSOLUTELY! It was one of those creepy, weird, "No one knows we're down here, there are no other people visiting this area, and it's known to have a lot of crime." The fact that we were there in broad daylight didn't ease any of my anxiety, so as soon as we walked to the playground at the other end of the track, we turned around and headed back to the car.

By the time we got back to the car, I could hear all this shouting. The lady with all the luggage was standing in the middle of the road, shouting so loud and angrily that I actually thought either a dog was growling or a man was growling. She was a block away, yet it sounded so near by! I start yelling at Bud to get his little hiney over to the car, which of course, begins a temper tantrum which could only be rivalled by someone telling Lindsay Lohan that happy hour is over. As I'm trying to explain to him that we need to go (without frightening him to the same extent that I am), he's still throwing his little fit. I've seen enough M. Night Shyamalan movies to envision turning around and standing up after buckling him in, only to have this lady all of a sudden standing right there, screaming in my face. We practically peeled out as we left.

As we were leaving, I noticed the crazy lady was loading her stuff into the back of a yellow cab and wondered just what her story was, as well as why she had frightened me. She looked as though everything she owned was probably in those suitcases, and I felt so ashamed of how extravagantly I live in comparison to so many people in our local area who are homeless, including children. In fact, I had even seen a pile of what looked like shrapnel or some kind of weird refuse under the bridge that goes over the tracks. What caught my attention was the American flag draped over that pile of whatever-it-was. It broke my heart to think that it could be a military veteran living over there. (Sidebar: I have even read reports of homeless veterans around the local area who are in their twenties and thirties, veterans of the current war that is raging. Who would have even thought it possible! Definitely not the first image that comes to my mind...)

I'm still musing over this whole experience. I'm not even sure I have any profound words or thoughts to share; just wanted to put it out there as food for thought.

Thursday Thriller: "Male Pattern Blindness"

As many of you know, I love love love this one particular blog from Indiana entitled, "Playgroups Are No Place For Children." Once again, Jennifer, Le Binky Bitch strikes back! While I am not married, I have been before, and I have briefly shared space with a certain someone who is tall, bald, super good-looking, but has asked to remain nameless here on the blog (but I digress...). From my limited experience, I have to say I think she's onto something!

To read this particular article, click on the title of this blog. HOWEVER! Don't miss the other posts she's put up today. If you want to read all of them, click here. For example, she takes a critical look at what the real difference is between toddler sizes 24mo. and 2T...

Have a laugh on me!

Triple Snap Action!

I am a Snapdragon What Flower Are You?

"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."

Sounds like Chicas '07, right?!?

"Just Like The Seeds In The Birdfeeder, So Are The Days of Our Nests..."

By a showing of hands, how many of you had the theme song of "Days of Our Lives" ticking in the back of your minds just a second ago?!? Man, I crack myself up... Hahaha!

John and Marsha are sticking pretty close to home these days. I don't think I've seen Marsha rise once from her post. I saw John and his father-in-law having an early morning conversation over at the birdfeeder just before he and the wife hit the sky after the Easter weekend. Apparently they had wanted to be here for the hatching but could only take so long off of work. So, they left the expectant couple with well-wishes and got going around sunrise.

Chyna has apparently been crashing at some other nest, because she has been completely absent from the construction zone that is their nest. Apparently Rex has been guilt-tripped into finishing the home improvement project before Chyna is on nest-rest, as he has been working his tailfeathers off to finish the nest and have an end to Chyna's constant nagging. As I walked out on the porch the other day to water my garden, he stopped his construction to wait impatiently on the fence, as if to say, "Hey, lady, can't you see I'm tryin' to work here?!?"

Luke and Laura are keeping things close to the vest. Apparently Laura's nesting instinct must've kicked in at some point, because the string of partiers and fly-bys are dwindling. There is little ruckus going on on the front porch these days, except the rare times Luke is allowed to hang out at the birdbath with a few buddies. And even though I have dark solar screens on the windows here in the office, any time I am typing on the computer and one of them is at the birdbath, they hop around and cock their heads like they know I'm talking about them and are trying to size me up. Maybe I shouldn't be using their real names, due to Internet security reasons... I'll take it into consideration...

Join me again soon for another installment of my birdie saga! Until then, be tweet!

Reflections on Ecclesiastes 3:11-14

If you want to read the text in its entirety, just click on the title of the blog. For those of you who don't want to be having to click back to the entire section, I'll insert the particular verses as I go along...

I was sitting in the local middle-class crack house Starbucks yesterday, settling in for my morning hit cuppa Joe, fulling intending on working on some reading I have to do for my Gospels class. Instead, I felt the need to be in the Word. As usual, I didn't really know where to start. When I'm in one of those moods, I start from Psalms and work from there. Before I even got to Psalms, I got snagged in Ecclesiastes. Here are some reflections of mine from this passage...

I love the simplicity of life in vv. 12-13. Right now I'm struggling with different things, and I seem to have to make every single thing a matter of spirituality, morality, or some other heavy category. I'm not taking joy in many of the things I have in my life. The simplicity of being happy and doing good almost seems too easy. (Sidebar: a friend of mine recently said she was "focusing on being relaxed and groovy." She totally is to begin with, and she seems to easy going and happy. I want relaxed and groovy! I'm so tired of being high-strung and stressed out!! But I digress...) This is a good reminder to lighten up and take each day for the blessing that it truly is -- Lord knows that, if anyone, I can understand the concept of, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."

The first sentence of v. 11 has a different meaning to me today. To back up just a little, vv. 1-8 is the famous passage which talks about there being an appropriate space in time for all things to transpire. The way in which I'm hearing v. 11 differently today is in that God's timing is the key to beauty and goodness. Allowing things to transpire on His economy of time, rather than my own, is what yields goodness and blessings. I can sum this up for you in one word: TRUST. It is soooo hard for me to do this with God, or anyone else for that matter, even though it is what I truly desire.

Lastly, I'm seeing a connection between the last half of v. 11 and v. 14. God so clearly wants our love, respect, and reverence. It is so clear to me that God is Creator (among many other things) that I cannot understand why others don't understand what I read in the same way that I understand it. And then, when asked to explain it to them, it's near impossible -- it's like trying to describe the taste of water or the color of air. We are created with a desire in our hearts to understand God, given a "foggy knowledge" of "now" and "later," but we are also created to have some dependence upon God -- this is faith. To deny the need for faith in our lives is to not fully understand or appreciate how we have been created, in my limited understanding. God will receive glory in all things, and our dependence upon Him gives Him the spotlight on center stage to do just that -- be glorified in and through us.

Wow. How is it that I've read this passage before but never understood it this way?!?

Out of Curiosity...

I really enjoy figuring out where people are from who happen to read my blog, be it a one-time deal or a repeat offense, er, I mean, occurance, haha...

So I want to hear from you, the Readership! If you dare to be so bold, answer a few questions for me:

1) How did you find my blog?
2) Where are you from (you can generalize if you're one of those types who thinks you'll be stalked and murdered for revealing the town, city, and/or state in which you really live)?
3) What do you take away from reading this blog?

There are some blogs I read because I feel very connected to their struggles. Others share my faith. Others make me pee because I laugh so hard, and I know I can always count on them to give me a boost on days when I'm desperately needing laughter. I know no one (besides me, sometimes) appreciates a writing assignment, but I just like to hear from people sometimes! If you can't leave a comment on this site, try my MySpace page.

Hope to hear from some of you soon!

Article: "When A Baby Is Destined To Die"

I just read this on MSNBC.com and haven't cried that hard in a long time. Wow. So much strength and beauty in that story, and God so clearly evident as well.

For those parents who go through the loss of a child like that, I can't even know what to tell you. I won't pretend to have sage words of wisdom just because I've been through personal loss of my own. All I could ever muster up is to say how sorry I am that things like this happen, and that you are not alone, although you might feel that way.

If you've got your Kleenex ready, click on the title of the blog to read the article...

Don't Be Such A Titmouse!

He he he, the "Beavis" in me just has to come out every now and then...

I have discovered, after working in the front yard this morning, that we have yet more birds nesting with us! This family must be really well-to-do if the height of their penthouse view is any indicator. Also, the exclusivity of the front porch is a strong argument, as there are almost no other places that could possibly house any nests. Luke and Laura Titmouse (I can't quite discern what specific breed they are, but they are tufted like a titmouse, although their beaks are longer and their coloration is mainly grey) obviously like to entertain. They have wild, swinging parties at the birdbath below their nest, as evidenced by the birds swooping and bathing around my front porch and flowerbed.



John and Marsha watched cautiously from a distance today as the kids and I planted our garden this morning. I think they understand that we're not going to mess with them, but John is still keeping a watchful eye on us, telling Marsha to just "calm down, he's got everything under control!"

Rex and Chyna were nowhere to be found, undoubtedly sleeping off last night's partying or something. Their crazy, unkempt nest has huge twigs and long strands of St. Augustine runners hanging down. They are starting to be a blight on the neighborhood, and I, as the President of the Birdie Homeowner's Association, may have to issue a citation for them to maintain their home a little better.

We're Expecting!

HAHAHA!!! Gotcha!! Bet you thought something serious was going down here at the hacienda... Good grief, what kind of girl do you think I am?!?

No, really, new life is always something to rejoice about at my house. I remember last summer when we had some rather snitty Mockingbird parents that were highly offended that we chose to use our inflatable pool in the backyard (heaven forbid) because it came within a country mile of their nest. I don't remember if we actually saw the babies in the nest, but I do remember a plump youngster who was probably the last of his graduating class to learn how to fly. He hung out on our backporch for the better part of a day or two. I wanted so desperately to put him back in the nest so he could have a "do-over," but I knew that if I touched him and he had my scent, the mother would have nothing to do with him. (Women can be so testy...)

This year the birds have gotten smart. They have upgraded from nesting in our vertical twigs young trees and are now nesting in tiny box-like places at the top of some brick columns where the roof goes over the porch. Whomever said that animals were dumb obviously didn't know birds. These nests are completely inaccessible to any land-locked creature. The only possible intruders to these penthouses are other birds (highly unlikely), nosy homeowners (such as yours truly), and the occasional bug or spider. Most of my spiders are gargantuan and terrifying big enough and predatory enough that they prefer to be on the ground or along the walls near where the bugs hang out. Their cozy little nests stay dry and warm in the unpredictable Central Texas spring weather.

After careful searching, I have discerned that we are awaiting five baby finches, Cannin's Finches to be exact. The parents look like a scrappy sort, but they have the most amazing song! It sort of reminds me of how judgmental we can be of the way people look, especially those claiming to be musicians. Then they go and open their mouths or pick up an instrument and everyone's jaws drop and we all stand there, astounded that such amazing things just came out of something that looks like that!

But I digress. It really touched my heart today, looking out my kitchen window at John and Marsha Finch (hey, they've become part of my everyday interactions -- they're completely personified to me already). Marsha sits dutifully on her eggs all.day.long. You know her birdie butt's gotta be tired. And while John gets to flit and flut all over the neighborhood, hanging out with his birdie buddies, I watched him come back to her and "feed her" some lunch, Chinese takeout and watermelon or some such pregnancy combo, I'm sure. As I stood there watching him take such sweet care of his mate, I must've moved or something because John caught me voyeurizing his loving display, and he copped a 'tude about it! He was immediately defensive of Marsha, and he turned around, moving his head this way and that, trying to size me up, thinking, "I could take her! She may be 500 times my size, but I could whip her ass!" It was so awesome.

And I guess there's a housing boom in the bird community as well, because I noticed today that John and Marsha now have neighbors. Rex and Chyna Mockingbird have moved in two columns down, and they are some gnarly thrashers from what I can tell. They are the obnoxious, punk rock neighbors -- their nest is being constructed of these massive twigs that won't even fit down in the box-like area, and they have thorns all over them because they are from some mesquite trees! Man! Poor Chyna's gonna have some serious hemorhhoid action from warming those puppies... And heaven forbid they use the other two nests from last year that I left up in the trees that were previously occupied by the other mockingbird families. Guess everyone wants a new ride these days...

Keeping up with the "Joneses" is a nice distraction from everything else going on these days. Hopefully the cigars will be coming out soon for John and Marsha! I'll keep you posted!

Grr and Ick

**DISCLAIMER: I am in a FOUL mood. Don't read this if you can't handle some serious kvetching. I apologize in advance for being negative, but I needed some vent time...

You know, this blogspot thing unfortunately says something about the duality of my nature. I have been having a pretty good, blessed, insightful day and then WHACK! Something has happened that has totally ruined my mood, sabotaged my thoughts, and cast me into a deep, dark funk. I can't even blog about it here, which only serves to upset me more. I go from this lovely post on something precious and spiritual to the funk-nasty sh*t going on in my heart. ICK!!!!!!!!!!!

I can't even describe to you the things running through my head right now because our language does not have words for how I'm feeling. I am completely powerless to unleash my words into cyberspace for fear that the party/parties involved might catch wind that something has set me off and I haven't seen fit to approach them about it. I can't always handle confrontation, at least, not in the heat of passion. I just had a discussion about this with someone last night. He thinks people should talk about things immediately while the emotions are still raw and exposed because that's how you truly feel about the issue. HOWEVER! I know what an idiot I am when I'm upset, and I don't ever want to explode at him or anyone else the way I have in the past. Trust me, I tell him, you WANT me to cool off and collect my thoughts! Can I get a witness?!?!?

...The "Grr" section has been deleted on purpose. Sorry if you missed it. I hit the delete button and didn't even copy/paste it into Word, so if you missed it, you missed it. Had to be done...

GRRR!!!

There are so many days when I read everyone else's posts and wonder why my life has to be so different from the norm, whatever I guess that is. Yes, I know that's a major pity party, but some days it just happens. I feel like I'm on the outside looking in at happy families. Moms and dads loving each other, caring for their kids, taking joy in the little things, having adventures, taking life by the horns. I look at my life and see that most days, but there are many days where I just don't see that. Things have come so far, I have so many blessings, but I feel like I'm walking down that hall in "Poltergeist" that keeps getting longer and longer the farther down it you go.

ICK!!! GRRR!!! GRRR!!! ICK!!!

Mandatum Novum

OK. I was going to give everyone their "Maundy Thursday 101" lesson, but Sing4Joy has totally beat me to the punch! So, go hit her page and come back so we can continue...

Pretty interesting stuff, I think. I've noticed that not many churches have Maundy Thursday services, and I know my church has not always had them. At my church, we are observing this important day with a Seder, combining that with the chance for each person to take part in the meal as well as music. It's not a traditional, orthodox seder, but then again, we're not Jewish. We are trying to incorporate our Jewish heritage to better appreciate and understand our New Testament faith.

One of the songs that we are playing tonight is, "In The Garden," by Michael Card. I have scoured the internet to find you a clip to hear or watch of this song. It is NOT the traditional hymn that you are most likely thinking of; it's a completely different song. It is a lament of sorts, and the part that gets to me is the second verse. Here are the lyrics:

"Trembling with fear,
Alone in the garden
Battle before the final war
Blood became tears,
There in the garden
To fall upon the silent stone
There in the darkness, the Light
And the darkness stood still
Two choices, one tortured will
And there, once the choice had been made
All the world could be saved
By the One in the garden

The light of the dawn
Was seen in the garden
By gentle eyes, so sadly wise
The angels appear,
They come to the garden
Clothed with sighs, they realize
The One they've adored from the start
Will be broken apart
By the ones He had come to save
So they're here simply now to be near
He's no longer alone
They sit by Him and moan."

I have never viewed the Passion from the perspective of the angels, created beings separate from humans and from God, spectators in the history of creation. How they have adored Jesus, the Word made flesh, which has been since the foundations of the world, and ministered to Him no doubt, have worshipped Him and will do so again at the end of days. I envision Jesus, wracked with the reality that is so near. His aching, wrestling with what is to come, His desire to be obedient to the Father, His intercession for us as believers yet to come even moments before these terrible events begin (John 17:20-26), and yet there is an unseen assembly. The angels have come to minister to Him. They can't step into His place, but their ministry is one of presence. It was so important that He not suffer alone. They said nothing but they were there. Their spirits were so heavy, yet they came to Him.

Can we 100% prove that this actually happened? No. But is there exacting evidence that proves that this was impossible? Again, no. It seems acceptable in my understanding that this scenario is entirely possible, and it grieves me in a beautiful way to think of the Passion from this perspective. Thinking of the feelings running through Jesus' heart, the reason for all this to come to pass, break my heart. Then, when I think about the angels coming to minister to Him, their hearts breaking, that, too, makes me sad but comforts me as well. I can believe that, if the Father provided this kind of comfort to Jesus in His time of need, then He can also accomplish that in my life. The angels came to provide love and support, not to take the cup of suffering away. And so it is in our lives. God comes to us -- supernaturally, through other people, through experiences, etc. -- and shows us His ministry of presence, although we're still up to our eyeballs in some of the thickest mud we've ever found ourselves in. It is a big deal to me to not feel alone in my struggles and my journeys. When I feel alone in this world, I know that I have not been completely abandoned, and that thought alone has been something that has gotten me through many a hard day.

One last thought about the events of today: try to bring Maunday Thursday and Good Friday to the table with you every time you receive communion. As I like to tell Ron, communion, along with baptism, are two of the only things in my religion that are tangible. You can have a sensory experience with bread, wine, and water. They are, to me, one of the easiest ways to remind me of "what it's all about." It's about love. Jesus loved me, even me. He established the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the wine as simple, physical reminders of His love. He suffered, was broken, and poured out His life out of love. For me. For you.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." --John 15:13 (KJV)

Heavenly Angels In Need

As I sit here screaming at Sam to quit stealing food out of the kitchen (read: candy), and praying not to be swept away by tornadoes today (it's a typical spring day in Central Texas), I am catching up on my blogs. I noticed that Raising Arrows has a couple of new posts, and what I saw on there was so amazing that I must put a special link on my blog today.

Long, painful story made short, this woman lost her 7 month old daughter several months ago (less than a year, but I forget how long ago). She has beautifully chronicled what is churning in her heart about her sweet Emmy, as well as how her hubby and Emmy's siblings are progressing through the days and months since losing Emmy. It's a hard blog for me to read, but she is such a strong, beautiful woman that she blesses me every time I hit her page. Anyhoo, the cool thing I found today was the memory box she received from an organization called Heavenly Angels In Need. Please take a minute to check out this non-profit organization. If you are looking for a worthwhile place to consider for making a charitable donation, if you have baby items you can donate, or even if you want to contribute your wedding gown to make burial clothes for infants, please keep these people in mind. They provide all sorts of help and materials to families grieving the loss of infants at no charge.

"Erin Go Bra(ugh)-less"

I have never laughed so hard in my life. I really don't have anything profound to say, but I have GOT TO GOT TO GOT TO introduce you all to a blog I read. I think this girl could seriously have a career writing for sitcoms or something, or possibly be a stand-up comedian. Click on the title of this blog and prepare to pee your pants -- she's HYSTERICAL! If you're having a bad day or just need to laugh out loud, you need to bookmark her site...

Erin Go Braugh!

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One, and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever,
By power of faith, Christ's incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan River;
His death on the cross for my salvation.
His bursting from the spiced tomb;
His riding up the heav'nly way;
His coming at the day of doom;
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to harken to my need;
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heav'nly host to be my guard.

Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poison'd shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the name,
The strong name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit Word.
Praise to the Lord of my salvation:
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

The Hoober Bloob Highway

OK, this is the actual 24 minute video. My kids just watched this, and I'm laughing but grossed out at the same time! I haven't actually seen this since I was a kid, so it was a fun stroll down Amnesia Lane. Finally, at the end, the singers start singing about the "Hoober Bloob Highway" and the "Creator" sends Bub off down this long, golden ramp from heaven to earth and shouts, "Happy birthday!" It is at this moment that I make the completely disgusting connection that the "hoober bloob highway" is actually the birth canal!!! Hahahahahaha! I will refrain from regaling you all with the off-color humor that followed... Unfortunately, I have a very odd sense of humor to which Sing4Joy can attest. (Just ask her about which part of the body of Christ I am...lol)

So without further adieu, I give you... The Hoober Bloob Highway!


Online Videos by Veoh.com

It's All About MeMe!

Found this over at Halfmoon Girl's page and thought it looked like fun. Here are the rules of this MeMe:

1. For each letter of your name, write a word that describes you.
2. For each letter of your name, write a word that describes GOD.
3. For each letter of your name, write the name of a character in a movie you like.
4. For each letter of your name, write the name of a song that is fitting for your life somehow.

Here goes!

Words that describe me:

K inda quirky
I mpatient
M usically inclined

Words that describe God:

K ing of all creation
I n control of everything in our lives
M adly in love with each of us

Movie characters I like:

K ing Louie from "The Jungle Book"
I nman from "Cold Mountain"
M rs. Threadgoode from "Fried Green Tomatoes"

Songs fitting for my life:

K illing Me Softly by the Fugees
I n You by MercyMe
M ight Be Today by Danny Donnelly

Your turn now!

Webgem of the Week: "Tears of the Saints"

Let me just say, I heart Leeland. What an amazing CC band! (read: contemporary Christian) They have such a fresh, musically innovative way of spreading the Gospel message of love and forgiveness. This is one of my favorite songs of theirs, beat out by, "Carried to the Table," a song in reference to Mephibosheth, son of Jonathan and grandson of Saul, who is brought into a place of honor in King David's household, but that is a WHOLE other blog! (And quite possibly my devotion at Chicas '08, but I digress...)

Anyhoo, I hope this will bless everyone who watches the video and stirs up in us a few things:

1) The desire to serve the homeless in our country; and,

2) The desire to minister to the spiritually homeless in our own neighborhoods, churches, and families.

When you listen to the song, you immediately have images in your mind quite similar to what you see in the video; however, I think there's a whole other side to it that is even more unpleasant to the palate, and that is: how many of these "lost" and "crippled" are there walking around well-dressed, sitting next to us at church, working down the hall from us, driving nice cars and living in suburban homes? When is the last time any of us extended a truly listening ear to someone who felt alone in a crowd of friends because of something they were going through in life? I know I have felt like one of those people over the last 2 1/2 years. Just because someone is a Christian, calls themselves a Christian, or attends church regularly doesn't mean that they are not in need of someone to be the hands of Christ reaching out to them, even if their need is unspoken. When is the last time we quit focusing on being THE person who leads some "poor, lost soul" into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ, and just focused instead on being examples of love and grace, stepping back to watch God do wonderful things that might or might not involve our interference?

May we be that light of love to the world for Christ. Amen.

Carpal Tunnel Lawnmower

Mowing a lawn isn't supposed to hurt this bad. I'm only 31 -- this is as healthy and fit as I'll ever be!!

I have spent the better part of the last week "springifying" my yard and garden. I have worked like a man and weeded, hauled soil and compost, mowed, and am getting ready to plant my garden and fertilize my yard. Rather than basking in the soft glow of a Central Texas sunset with a co'beer in one hand, looking out as the successful master of my domain, I feel like I've got arthritis already!

I'm actually quite proud of myself. I have prepared my soil and selected my plants in preparation to enjoy more homemade salsa and fresh herbs for my ventures into Italian cooking. My garden yielded a great harvest last year, so here's hoping my green thumb hasn't turned gangrenous and rotted off yet.

As for the lawn, it's been mown and mulched and after tomorrow, will be properly fertilized. I have this sickening obsession with having the most awesome yard in the neighborhood. The main reasons why I care are twofold:

1) There are several widows and single women of all ages living on my street. 100% of them, except for yours truly, has a lawn service taking care of their lawn. We all have sprinkler systems, so they basically have lawns that survive (I won't really say thrive) with little to no interaction on their part. I take pride in the fact that I do all of it myself with no assistance and no childcare. It's just a part of being a homeowner, and I take massive satisfaction and pride in knowing I'm not only doing it, but doing it well.

2) The majority of lawns that are maintained by the owners are done by the man living there, and of course, they all seem to know what they're doing, and their lawns are always green, mown, and look great. I've declared an unofficial war on the men -- I want to have a lawn that even the guys are envious of and even would assume that a man is taking care of. Take that!

Let me take a minute to throw something spiritual in here: one of the biggest struggles with sin that I have is with pride. I am uber-competetive, to a fault, and oftentimes my pride is what fuels this characteristic. I have never before taken the time to properly care for my lawn, so I'm trying to use my competetive nature as motivation to be more consistent without letting pride gain a foothold here. Isn't it irritating when the Holy Spirit gets you all convicted over yard work?!?

I had to get all of my outdoorsy responsibilities checked off my list before this weekend, as I enter my third semester of Parish Lay Ministry Academy. To figure out just what the heck I'm talking about, take a peek. I am officially halfway through my training and on the down-hill stretch. If I can just pin down my internship project and get that monster under way, I'll be money. (Boy, is THAT a whole other blog...)

Here's to spring and being a better steward of my little piece of dirt...

**The evil lawnmower picture was snarfed from a fellow blogspot site called Toon Club.

Prayer for Brae-Brae

I don't know who Brae-Brae is, but from the perspective of a child, I thought this was neat. I found this over at Hearth & Home:

God be in my head, and in my understanding.
God be in my eyes, and in my looking.
God be in my mouth, and in my speaking.
God be in my heart, and in my thinking.
God be at my end, and at my departing.

We All Need A Barnabas

Pop quiz -- who is Barnabas? Fine, smarty pants, you got that much right -- he did preach and prophesy with Paul. What else do you know about him??? Yeah, that's what I thought! You know about as much about him as most of us, which isn't much.

Today at my Women in Ministry luncheon, our devotion was about this mysterious man of ministry (HisGirl, that sounds like a character from one of your youth programs!). There are a smattering of passages in Scripture which show Barnabas in action, and he is actually someone worth taking notice of from time to time.

My favorite passage that we looked at was Acts 4:32-36. Specifically, he debuts in v. 36. Barnabas' given name was actually Joseph (gee, what a rare name, right?). We also know that he was a Levite (Sing4Joy, do you think he was a cohen?!?) who selflessly sold a field and gave the proceeds to the apostles to be distributed amongst the needy. That's STILL not what I love about Barnabas. Here it is: his name means, "Son of Encouragement." Wow! I am really into names and their meanings, and I love this little factoid about him. During the devotion, we read further passages from Acts that highlighted Barnabas doing just that, being an encourager for Saul/Paul.

We were then asked to consider who has been a Barnabas to us and what their encouragement has done for us. Futhermore, we were asked to consider who might consider us a Barnabas. I had two thoughts on this:

1) I have lots of people that I call acquaintances, even many people I call friends, but a very small group of "inner circle" friends that function as Barnabases to me. (Is the plural of Barnabas "Barnabii?" I just don't know...lol) Anyhoo, I could list three off the top of my head, but the first one that always, without fail, springs to mind is Sing4Joy. She is the embodiment of Galatians 6:2 for me: "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." Her spiritual gift is definitely that of nurturing and empathizing, and she has come alongside me, taken my yoke, and hitched up to help me with my burdens. She cannot take them away, but she sure makes going through life a lot easier. There are things that she has not experienced and can't understand from that perspective (thank God), but her encouraging, empathizing nature has been such a blessing that I can't imagine how the last 2 or 3 years of my life would have gone had God not put her in my path. Barnabases don't make life easier, they help us to refocus and get back on the horse. They allow us to be who we are, love us unconditionally, ask us questions, direct us back into Scripture, and we are better people for having them in our lives.

2) Oh dear God, don't tell me I'm a Barnabas to someone else! I feel like such a selfish pig almost 100% of the time! I feel like so many times I'm the textbook example of what not to do/say/feel, etc. Ask Sing4Joy about which part of the body of Christ I said I was the other day...HA HA! I know many people are very kind to tell me that I inspire them or they don't know if they could do what I'm doing, etc. I don't feel like they've seen the full picture of who I am somedays, but then again, I'm sure everyone feels like that to a certain extent. I can be a very negative person, but I always call that "realism." Is it realism or pessimism? I don't know. When I hold the yardstick up to myself by which I measure others, I just feel like I'm always coming up short. Despite how much I can be down on myself, what I took away from it was this: I need to be more conscious of the example I'm setting, because I just might be the only example of Christ someone sees in a day, and I sure don't want to mess that one up just because I was having (another) bad day.

So who is your Barnabas?

"A Town of War Widows"

FYI -- Just wanted everyone to know that the article is out! "Why, what article do you mean, GGG?" Oh, only the ARTICLE FOR WHICH I WAS INTERVIEWED BY GLAMOUR MAGAZINE! Coolio!!

By clicking on the title of this blog, you can read the article online, which is only part of the experience. The picture you see of all of us standing there is a full, two-page spread on p. 332. I am towards the back due to height discrimination. (Yeah, all of us tall girls always get crammed in the back where no one notices us...) It's a great picture. It was taken at the new Central Texas Veteran's Cemetery (is that the right name? Not sure...) on a blustery day in January, and we were all popsicles by the end of the shoot. Thank goodness I had done my research and watched several seasons of "America's Next Top Model" and knew how to "bring it" and "look fierce" even in subzero temperatures. (OK, it was really only about 50 degrees, but for a Texan w/ no coat on in the wind, that's a fair assessment of the weather...).

Turning the page, the picture at the top of the page reminds me of my reaction to being at this photo shoot. This cemetery is very peaceful, near FT Hood, but far enough off the beaten path to be quite serene. The rolling hills and excellent view of the central Texas landscape are quite fitting for soldiers of all ages and walks of life who have gone to that AA in the sky. (For all you non-military types, "AA" isn't what you think -- it means, "Assembly Area." That's a phrase Tom used just before he died.) Anyhoo, this cemetery has barely been open for 2 1/2 -- 3 years. I was instantly struck by how many graves there already are; it simply took my breath away. Then, as we all emerged out of our cars to await instructions from the crew, it further wrenched me as I looked at all of us and realized what it meant. For every woman there, there was a man who wasn't. They represented entire families who will walk around for the rest of their lives with this scar tissue on their hearts that will be like the remnants of a tattoo that's been removed: you can't see its details anymore, but you can see where it was, and the scar tissue may heal over time, but the outline of the tattoo is never completely gone whether or not you want it to be...

If you look down at the bottom of pp. 334-335, there are some pictures of our guys. There is a picture of Tom standing in water at the beach holding our son when he was 4 mo. old on our one and only family summer vacation to Destin, FL. He is right on the crack (how fitting! haha!!), top row, on the left of said crack. He would just die if he could see himself in a nationally circulated magazine w/ no shirt on! hahahaha!!!!!

While I wasn't mentioned by name, I did actually get my own paragraph, but it doesn't sound very good. My paragraph is the one that begins, "One widow, in her early thirties with two young kids..." The guy that wrote the article didn't accurately relate what I was trying to convey about how my faith has played into all of the events post-11/30. He says that I mention that my faith has allowed me to, more or less, gloss over stages in the grief process, which couldn't be further from the truth! I told him that my faith has helped me to navigate my grieving process more smoothly than some. I also said that I never really had that angry, "I hate God; it's all His fault," feeling. I also never felt the need to question why this happened; it was enough to know that God had a plan and that all things work for good for them that love God (Romans 8:28). To add a rotten cherry to this funky dessert, he paints a picture that everyone sitting there at the table is making faces at me or rolling their eyes or something. Didn't happen! What I told him in the interview was that some people, especially some at FT Polk, didn't buy what I was trying to tell them about how God was getting me through every day and so on. Now all that talk about the plastic surgery IS true; we sat there and talked about it for quite a while. Out of the 20+ women there, I would bet that at least 50% or more of us had breast implants. But that's a whole other blog!!!

It is a loooong article. For the most part of what I have skimmed, the guy who wrote the article did a pretty decent job. I think my part was a little botched, but then again I don't always say things the way I'm thinking them, so it's possible I wasn't a very good communicator. I was very disappointed that one girl got so much press time, but I won't say anything here that is negative. I'll just leave it at that. I do think, however, that I came away with the overall feeling that military widows are hung on their late husbands and can hardly move forward after their loss. They feel all this guilt, they drink a lot, they crave physical contact with men but are unwilling to date again because they feel it's too soon or they worry that others think it will be too soon. I have to say, I feel NONE of those things. I wonder if that makes me a terrible person, to be quite honest. On one hand, I consider myself one of the better adjusted of these people and am incredulous that everyone else hasn't grown a spine yet. On the other hand, I worry that my progression through my own grief journey is viewed as irreverent and like I never loved Tom. I certainly don't begrudge these women their own time to work through things. I do believe that sometimes people bog down and allow their new status to define who they are, and I find that to be massively unhealthy. As for myself, I know better than anyone besides God just what all I've been through, what I have sorted out, prayed about, sought guidance about, what things about which I cannot talk about to others for various reasons, what things will always break my heart regardless of passage of time, etc. I answer to God alone. Case closed.

So, for what it's worth, read the article and let me know what you think!