The Invisible Realities

KEITH GREEN

2012-01-06T12:16:00.006-05:00

I'm reading "No Compromise," the story of Keith Green. I've been wanting to read it for a couple years now. I remember my parents listening to his records (yes, RECORDS) when I was younger and a few years ago I downloaded his songs on iTunes. They grip me. He was passionate.

He was only two years older than me, I think, when he died. I'm gripped by stories of men and women who make short lives COUNT. Maybe God knows I'll live a short life, and He wants me to make mine count. Or maybe if I marry some day, I'll be married to a man who expends his life for the Kingdom at a young age, and I'll have the honor of furthering his vision. I don't know. Foolish conjecture, I guess.

I wonder, when I read the biographies of men like Keith, Jim Elliot, and others.... where are those sort of men today, in this needy culture? ...I mean, I know they're OUT there, but I haven't met very many young men who've felt a drive from the time they were young to serve God with passion and wholehearted devotion. Guys who are intensely devoted to Jesus before they're even in their twenties. They seem to mess around with their lives until they're older, and THEN make the choice.

My prayer today is this: that God will impassion young men in this generation. And that He will raise my friends and I up to be the women who will stand behind them and share their dreams and cherish their vision, making them successful for the kingdom.

2011-12-22T13:07:00.008-05:00

These past few days have been very precious to me. I feel like God is doing something in my heart and life, and I'm not exactly sure WHAT.... where it's all headed. As I was talking to my friend Danelle a few days ago and she was describing happenings in her life I said "It seems as if God's playing Connect The Dots in your life and you sense it happening but don't quite see the whole picture He's drawing." (I know, isn't it tacky that I just quoted myself? On my own blog?) ...But, it's what's happening.

I feel like God is desiring to do a great work in our country--perhaps even the entire world-- and that I must somehow prepare my heart to join Him in some small corner, some tiny, personal part of that work. He said that if HIS PEOPLE (not the unbelievers but HIS people) would humble themselves, pray, and seek His face, and repent, He would move. Since there's nothing particularly special about ME, I think that maybe God is doing the same work in the hearts of believers all over the world. I think maybe He's beginning a work of great grace: to stir us to long for revival.

I'm going to share with you some of the dots I believe God is connecting. Who knows; maybe the big picture will emerge sooner rather than later! (Heh! Doubtful though.) :)

First of all: I have been reading a book called My Heart In His Hands, the biography of Ann Judson of Burma. Not going to write a book report about it now, but I will say this: it's a fantastic, challenging, extra-ordinary biography. As I was reading it one morning, I was actually stirred to tears; tears of longing. I want to be used of God like she was. To the best of my shamming mind's ability to feel this way, I don't think I care if it's a remote, inglorious, and even terribly hard field as long as I sense that God is using me as His servant to fulfill His purposes and spread His glory. I guess the reason I was filled with longing to the point of tears is because I realize in reading Ann Judson's biography that in order to be used as Ann was I must walk in the fellowship with God that Ann did. And I am far, far from that. I long to be there, but there is so much distracting me and I want to somehow learn how to extricate myself from the world. Things that are very commonplace in my life are things that Ann did without (internet, movies, TV, etc.) and I sense that I must drastically reduce the input of these things and drastically increase the input of what she spent her time on: the Word of God and prayer. Normally I try not to be too personal on here, and I hesitate to reveal these inner workings of my heart so publicly, but I'm writing this here on my blog partly to encourage my brothers and sisters to do the same, and partly to set forced accountability. I've typed it for you to see, now, and I encourage my friends or family to ask me upon seeing me if I actually DOING what I've written here. Please; love me enough to challenge me.

So that was one of the first "dots"-- a desire for something greater. Greater dedication of myself for God's purposes and God's work, and a greater sanctification of myself in holiness for preparation to that work.

The second "dot"-- a trip to Pennsylvania with dear friends. What a fantastic few days it was. These are some of my dearest sisters in Christ and I see them too rarely. These are people I look up to and admire as those I know who are walking in close fellowship with Jesus. We talk, literally, for hours about nothing but God and what He's doing in our lives. And it's lively, exciting, animating, stirring discussion. Whew!!!!!!! :) In the course of our conversation we began to discuss a book called "Red Moon Rising." I haven't read it yet but am about to, now. it's about prayer movements that are springing up across the world. Prayer ALWAYS, ALWAYS seems to proceed revival. And it looks like God is beginning to move His people to prayer. I got goose-bumps (or "goose-pimples," or whatever you call them, though I think "goose-bump" is a much more palatable term) when we were talking about these prayer rooms that are popping up around the country. And my friend Esther and her husband William are involved in one in their own city!! They are seeing God move in beautiful, amazing and unprecedented ways in the hearts of people in their region and they believe that it is in DIRECT result of prayer! Churches of completely different theological persuasions are coming together to agree in prayer. Unbelievers are hungry and open. God's doing amazing "coincidence" type of miracles to bring people closer to Him. I got to visit the prayer fascility, called a "CPR" or "Community Prayer Room" and was blown away by it. An entire place, dedicated to nothing but interceding for God's will to be done on earth, as it is in Heaven. (Goose-bumps, anyone!?)

The next "dot" is that I am in Chicago right now. Visited with my dear friend (and now a wife and soon-to-be-mamma!) Kendalyn and am staying at Jane Hawthorn's home with The Grens. (She is the younger sister of Jim Elliot; a dear, dear woman!) It's been so special to be back with Elisabeth, and Lars too. I missed them a lot; especially caring for Elisabeth. The reason I mention it though is that Jane recommended that we visit the Wheaton Archives and Billy Graham Museum at Wheaton College which is literally just down the street. My mom and I went first (she spent the first coupled days in Chicago and we had a beautiful time! Which I'll describe later in a 'nuther post!) Then the next day, Lars, Elisabeth and I went. I was glad to have a look at the museum twice because it hugely, HUGELY stirred my heart. The Billy Graham Museum was never anything I particularly wanted to visit, but I was SO glad I did. The emphasis of it was on revival. (Just me or is that word seeming to pop up a lot?) And, of course, they mentioned that the key to revival was prayer. It would take many more paragraphs to explain the further workings of my heart from this trip to Chicago. So I won't bother because this post is already interminably long.

Is God stirring your heart in any ways? If he is, I encourage you to take time to respond to Him. ask Him to further reveal what He wants to do IN you and THROUGH you. I think we are all just one tiny piece of the puzzle.... one tiny dot among the millions He is connecting, and if we His people will readily say "here am I, send me," He will take us up on it. He will move us. Maybe not to the ends of the earth, but perhaps across the street or to our own family or in some way, to have an impact on OUR sphere of influence. But first of all, I think He wants to move us to pray. And that's the hardest move of all, I think.

2011-12-13T21:06:00.004-05:00

Just decorated my Grandpa's side of the house for Christmas, and am sitting with him watching White Christmas. He interrupts the show with his silly comments or random stories. (One such comment just popped out a second ago when a very lithe, very young Betty Haynes comes out in her dazzlingly white outfit for one of the shows. "Why, she looks just like my mother." Then he smirks, (his mother never looked like that) and looks at me for my response.

I love this...

Our Christmas tradition. :)

I want to learn to better cherish moments with those around me. To live fully in those moments; to delight in the sweetness of relationships and the joy of being with people I love with all my heart... and even--dare I say--their quirks. I've been praying recently that God will fill my heart with greater love for people. Great Source of Love, infuse me with it!

Dickens on Christmas:

2011-12-13T21:03:00.002-05:00

"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on their journeys."

-CHARLES DICKENS, A Christmas Carol

My Life Goal

2011-12-02T09:06:00.007-05:00

I was reading in one of my favorite little books today, "My Utmost For His Highest". It is a compilation of sermon excerpts from Oswald Chambers. Sounds dreadfully dull but it's actually incredibly heart stimulating and mind exercising. I read this, and was stirred!

"I am called to live in perfect relation to God so that my life produces a longing after God in other lives, not admiration for myself. Thoughts about myself hinder my usefulness for God."
Yes, yes, YES! I am leading a young girl's discipleship group called "Bright Lights" right now, and I can't even tell you how much I enjoy each of my little 14 girlies! I keep on praying, fervently, that they would love me-- but NOT for my own sake: it's because I want to point them to Jesus. I think back on the people in my life who I've greatly admired, and was drawn through them to the Christ they were consumed by. I want to be that to my Bright Lights girls. I was talking with a friend the other day who mentioned that we are to be like the moon: just a dull piece of dust-covered rock, in and of itself... but because it simply reflects the sun's brilliance, it is luminous and breathtakingly beautiful. May God take this dull piece of flesh which is me, and make it breathtakingly beautiful by the radiance of HIS presence. I LONG for my life to be this (I know I've quoted it here before but here it is again!):

"Father, make me a crisis man. Bring those I contact to decision. Let me not be a milepost on a single road; make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another on facing Christ in me."

And if by my life I cannot accomplish it, let me do it by death!

God alone sees that these aren't just words. By His grace, this is my heart-cry.

Warm Fuzzies

2011-11-29T20:39:00.009-05:00

I am a huge fan of warm fuzzies. Warm fuzzy sweaters (I'm wearing one now!), warm fuzzy blankets, warm fuzzy cups of hot chocolate (okay minus the fuzz)... I love it all and Christmas is the ultimate Warm Fuzzy Inducer. This was evidenced by the beautiful, jingly, wonderful candlelight evening downtown a few weeks ago!*

W-worth usually holds a candlelight walk, I think, but I'd never gone to it. Actually, I'd envisioned it as being a bunch of cold people in winter coats solemnly carrying candles down the Main St. sidewalk in silent procession. I'm weird, I know. But that little mental picture I'd drawn was certainly enough to curb my interest.

Long-story-short, they gave the candlelight walk the wrong name.

It was the Quintessential Christmas Experience. Even the real Old St. Nicholas, horrified as he may be at what Christmas has become in our day and age, couldn't help but break a smile if he'd have walked downtown that night.

Mom and I were greeted by the strains of Sinatra and his fellow crooners singing the old wonderful carols as we stepped into the festively lit square. W-worth has a quaint, beautiful little square normally, but at Christmastime it's transformed into something extra special. The lampposts are strung with garland and lights; the gazebo is decked, and next to it a huge Christmas tree graces the square. Shopkeepers try to outdo each other in their lights and decorations. The pastry shop has an intricate little train set running... it's beautiful and I can't help but smile every time I drive through town at night! But the Candlelight Walk night was even more spectacular. Even before you saw the beautiful horse drawn carriages giving people rides through the streets, you could hear the full, merry jingle of the sleigh bells attached to the horses' harness.

Stores were packed with people ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the Christmas merchandise proudly displayed' folks who evidently enjoyed displaying their own Christmas spirit with holiday shirts, crazy hats, and--in a few cases--full blown Dickens regalia! The jewelry store had a little kiosk in front of it with a woman ladling out steaming cups of hot chocolate. A number of shops had cookie trays and snacks in the back, and the antique shop beat all... with a live display of a huge jack-in-the-box, wound every minute or so by a woman we thought was a mannequin until she suddenly moved... and then out popped a real human jack-in-the-box!

As if it weren't all almost too good to be true, as mom and I passed the barber shop and glanced in the window we saw this: Yep! A real barbershop quartet right there in the shop, with their darling little outfits and appropriately gregarious personalities to match! (And, like all good barbershop quartets they had one rather tall and one rather short fellow.) With the sight of that, my warm fuzzy-odometer simply maxed out and mom and I agreed to run home as fast as we could--we live about 5 minutes from the square, but the event was closing within 15 minutes!)--and grab our cameras! (Heretofore we'd been moaning and groaning that we were crazy for not having brought our cameras... but really all I was expecting was a bunch of cold zombies walking around dark sidewalks with candles and I didn't think that would be much to take snapshots and blog about.)

So mom and I rushed home and while I grabbed the camera she made a quick cup of hot chocolate for dad, who was one of the police officers patrolling the event. We brought it to him and took a few pictures with him. He is a very good sport because police officers aren't normally supposed to have photo shoots with their daughters in the back of the police cruiser while they're on duty. Kinda' ruins their "tough cop" persona, if anyone's watching.

We got back in just enough time to snap a few pictures of the barbershop quartet before they finished for the evening...

Then--lo and behold!--the kind horse people let mom and I take a last ride in their carriage before they packed up for the night. It was very, very fun and even a bit rotic (i.e. "romantic" without the "man").

We snapped a few more shots around town:

A few last folks in the sandwich shop before closing time,

Storekeepers pausing to wave to us as they closed up shop for the night,

So doesn't this look like some sort of Kinkade painting? :) All it needs is a little old man smoking a pipe sitting on the bench out front, with a dog at his side.

And AHA! THIS is the reason it's called a "candlelight walk!"

Well, in all it was a completely unexpected evening full of joy and Christmas spirit. Mom and I couldn't stop exclaiming about it the entire way home! Thank you, W-worth, for a wonderful, beautiful start to the Christmas season. Thank you for keeping it "Christmas" and for embracing the joy this season brings without all the political correctness that is erroding at the birthday celebration of my King. I'm grateful and I will definitely be back for the candlelight walk next year if I'm around!

...Now if we could just think of a better name for it...!?

*(Yes, this was a few weeks ago meaning they were celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving had occurred. This is usually an unpardonable sin in my estimation, but since it created such vast amounts of warm fuzzy feelings in my heart, I'll pardon the grievous misdeed.)

Veteran's Day

2011-11-11T19:43:00.005-05:00

I just want to go on record and say that it's AWESOME, what restaurants like Applebees and Olive Garden do for Veterans on this day! It absolutely thrills me that they do something like this regardless of what sort of money they may lose on it. Patriotism, honor and gratitude are alive! Applebees actually gave out free meals to Vets and I think several other restaurants were doing the same.

So, I had a date with Gramps (who was a tank operator in the South Pacific during WWII) and his friend Ed. Two rather handsome Marines; I felt pretty lucky, I must say... (wink!) The place was crowded but everyone standing in line was happy and seemed to want to talk about their war experiences or the lives of other veterans who were special to them. Marines would walk by our table and salute my Grandpa and Ed who would reply with a quick "Semper Fi!" Folks thanked them for their service, and a woman walked up to Grandpa and hugged him. He was beaming!

The entire drive home, Grandpa talked about his experiences in the war: cutting his knee open on a boat and being stitched up without any pain blocker, the natives he met on the South Pacific Islands, and the funny experiences he had like bathing in rivers and trying to hide from local women who came down to wash their clothes on Guam.

I will never grow tired of hearing his stories. I feel infinitely, infinitely blessed to be the granddaughter of a hero, and to still be able to hear him telling me his stories.

Semper Fi, Gramps. I love you.

Below: Grandpa got a little pin that said "Thank You" with his menu and I ceremoniously pinned it on. :) =

2011-11-10T09:18:00.000-05:00

I can't believe that ...I've joined Facebook.

What a blessing and a curse such things are.

2011-11-07T05:25:00.002-05:00

Oh, Victorious Warrior, come and fight!

The enemy is here, and he is cunning-

The world's glint entices; it is stunning.

Oh, Great Protector, full of might!

Come bolster up my spirit; it is fainting-

Make my heart steadfast as it is waiting.

Oh, Lover Divine, come now and ravish!

Seep into each crevice of my being-

Set my soul afire, my spirit singing.

-DCS

Guilt or Motivation?

2011-11-01T21:50:00.007-04:00

We were sitting in our Wednesday evening ladies Bible study. A bunch of ladies were there; some who have little knowledge about God and others who have known God for a long time. Since our Pastor's wife was out of town, Jan--our "baby Christian"--had volunteered to lead it. I was so proud of her! Jan hasn't been a Christian for very long, but her faith is so alive; her heart is so pure and her excitement is contagious. Most of the ladies in the room, in fact, were women that she works with. She invited them to church and they came, drawn by the light and joy they see in Jan. Many of them are dealing with the same issues that Jesus delivered Jan out of not too many months ago. I think they find hope when they see the difference in her life. We sang some songs together and then Jan began to ask for prayer requests. After each lady shared, either Jan or I would lead out in prayer about the needs they had expressed.

One troubled woman shared (at deep length) about the struggles in her life. Jan listened sympathetically and then said, "We're going to pray for you." The woman agreed, but pointed to me:

"I want her to pray. I like the way she prays."

Woah. I cringed.

It was a horribly awkward moment.

What on earth do you say at a moment like that? "Why, thank-you... I'm glad I impressed you"? Or maybe "No...no....really....Jan's the better pray-er"?

Ugh!

Surely she didn't mean it to hurt Jan or to embarrass me, but it's amazing how quickly the devil jumps into a situation like that to completely take advantage of it. Immediately I felt condemnation sweep over me like a tidal wave. I truly didn't think I'd been trying to impress anyone with my prayers. I hadn't wanted anyone's praise or notice for it. If anything, all I wanted was to somehow make God's presence feel real through my prayers and show these women that He really was listening to us and caring about our needs. But the fact is, when the comment was made, I was hugely aware of the deficit in my life: I do NOT pray the way I should. I do not pray as often as I should. And for a long time God's been convicting my heart about that fact and I haven't done much of anything about it. My thoughts went wild:

"YOU HYPOCRITE! Here you are with these flowery prayers that impress people in public, and here God can't even get you on your knees in private. You're disgusting. God must be shaking His head at you right now. What a fake. Oh, you can sound good in front of other people but in private you're nothing."

Fast-forward a week.

I was picking Jan up from work and bringing her back to Bible Study the next Wednesday and we started to talk about--of all things--prayer. (I had just been listening to this message by Paul Washer and was really rocked by it so I was telling her about it.) "You know Dani," Jan began, "I have been asking God to teach me how to pray. I was really affected by what happened the other night....when _____ asked you to pray because your prayers are so much better than mine. She's right; your prayers ARE a lot better than mine. And I'm just so ashamed; I'm almost embarrassed to pray at all now. So....I've just been asking God to teach me how to pray. I want to learn, really. I just can't do it as well as you do."

In a flash it hit me. Good grief! Here we were at a Prayer Group, of all places. An insensitive comment was made. And suddenly the devil was ready and waiting to jump on ME with guilt for being a "hypocrite" and JAN with shame for being "ignorant." And the worst part is...it worked. (For a whole week, that is, until Jan and I communicated honestly with each other about what we were feeling.)

I was reminded again that we can have a choice of two ways we can respond to many situations in our lives: guilt, or motivation. When the incident happened I chose to wallow in a little guilt:

Yuck.

What a hypocrite Dani is.

White-washed little sepulcher.

Instead I should have embraced it as a reminder to keep striving in my PRIVATE prayer times and pray just as fervently then as I do when others are around and I'm being heard.

Jan, too, was struggling with guilt:

Yuck.

What primitive sounding prayers.

Who wants to listen to that anyhow? Not God and certainly nobody else.

And though luckily, she was doing something productive with her guilt (allowing it to motivate her and praying that He'd TEACH her how to pray,) she was still letting that guilt beat her down and make her feel ugly.

That is SO NOT God's plan for our lives!

Why on earth do we wallow in the pit of self condemnation and despair when God reveals something in our lives that He wants us to work on? Do we forget that it's only those He LOVES that He corrects (Heb. 12:6)? Or that the righteous person can fall seven times but keep on getting back up again (Prov. 24:16)? Or that, thought Satan stands before God constantly accusing us, Jesus stands before God day and night defending us (Revelations 12:10 & Romans 8:24)?

I feel like I received a definite wake-up call that day as Jan and I were talking. I could see so clearly the deceptive, wily plans of Satan to sneak into a vulnerable situation and twist it for our harm, and it angered me. It made me desire more than ever to PRAY. Not to worry overmuch about motives or how I sounded to God or anything else but just to make the effort to PRAY.

I'm helpless to describe it in any sort of eloquence or to make this post more interesting, but I felt a compulsion to write it down with the desire that it would encourage and motivate someone. I may not be able to fervently pray on my face before God for hours at a time like certain people I hear about. But even if I just set aside a few more minutes each day and make the conscious effort to draw near to God, I know my overtures will NOT be rejected and he WILL draw near to me. Already I've sensed it this week: I received an incredibly miraculous answer to prayer (another post for another time) and, more beautifully, felt God's joy and fellowship and CLOSENESS with me in a way this week that I haven't felt in a long time.

Guilt would have made that impossible. It would have continued to push me away. Motivation, though, brought me back. So I'm trying. I'm praying more. Enough? No, probably not. But MORE. And just like anything else it's going to get easier with practice. Just like any other relationship it's going to take work. But I am just NOT WILLING to live my life on earth without the closest possible fellowship I can enjoy with God. It's not worth it. He's the whole reason I exist. I don't want to try to exist without Him.

So the moral of the post for you?

I don't know.

Pray about it. :)

"My Prayer" by Amy Carmichael

2011-10-17T21:05:00.006-04:00

And shall I pray Thee change Thy will my Father,
Until it be according unto mine?
But no, Lord, no, that shall never be, rather
I pray Thee blend my human will with Thine.

I pray Thee hush the hurrying eager longing
I pray Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire.
See in my quiet places wishes thronging,
Forbid them, Lord, purge, though it be with fire.

And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure.
Let all within me, peaceful, reconciled,
Tarry content my Wellbeloved’s leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child.

A New Song

2011-10-13T09:03:00.002-04:00

I wrote a new song a couple days ago and was messing around with it in Garage Band (I so wish I knew how to better use that program! The quality of this recording it terrible!)

I just wanted to thank Jesus for all the things He is to me. Hope if you listen, it will help you do the same. :)

My Car Got A Tattoo!

2011-10-12T12:08:00.003-04:00

I gave Betty a little extra style today. Isn't she funky!?

She was afraid it would hurt but I told her all she'd feel was a little pressure.

An addendum to the last post

2011-10-07T18:43:00.004-04:00

You know my two favorite stars? The ones whose names I never forget and I saw them in the constalation Orion?

Not so much.

Reading in my (aptly named) "Astronomy For Dummies" book today, I realized that when I thought I was looking at Sirius I was actually looking at Rigel.

Now Rigel is a REALLY cool name for a star too.

But... serious?

It wasn't Sirius!!

And here I was so impressed with my stellar skills. Epic fail.

*Sigh!* I still have a lot to learn....

Silent Shouting

2011-10-06T21:09:00.005-04:00

Tonight I was moon-gazing!

My friend loaned me his telescope for a while, because I've become very interested in the stars. My bed is next to a window, and on warm summer nights I take out my screen and lay with my head outside. Serenaded by the crickets, I often stare up at the stars and try to pick out the few constelations I know: the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Orion's belt (Yeah. Just his belt. Not really sure where the rest of him was...) and--well okay, I guess heretofore those are all the constalations I've known.

Thus, I borrowed the telescope and a bunch of books in an attempt to learn more. Then, I thought, I'd be able to gaze at the sky with less ignorance. After studying the sky maps a bit I'd be able to randomly point out the Pleades or instantly name that illusive little light that catches my eye in the heavens. I'd be an amatuer astronomer with an authoritarian gaze. The mysteries of the sky would be unraveled and I'd be able to navigate my way through the heavens as easily as I could through my own home town.

Heh!

It's not as easy as all that. (For starters, have you ever DRIVEN with me when I've tried to navigate my way through my own home town? Let's just say I haven't got my mom's in-built compass!) And...stars and their constalations are kinda' hard to find. It makes me feel better when I realize that the dots in the sky which are mere centimeters apart from my view are actually seperated from each other by lightyears, in reality. But still... when I look at those wierd circle maps in the astronomy book and try to hold them up to the sky? I'm lost.

But there was a bit of a breakthrough a few nights ago. I found Orion's belt and....then his head. And then his arms and the rest of him! And not just that, but I spotted the two brightest stars of that constelation, Sirius and Betelgeuse. I was thrilled. These are my two favorite stars and I finally FOUND them!

Why are they my two favorite stars?

1.) They've got really cool names, and

2.) They're the only names I can remember consistently.

Also, Betelgeuse is by far my favorite star because of some info I read on it a few weeks ago. Since I read said info, my wonder at it has been increasing and I've been blurting it to just about everyone I converse with (apologies if you've been one of my victims, forced to listen to my newfound stellar knowledge!). If not, you're probably dying to hear it.

...Right? Right. So:

"If [Betelgeuse] were an empty jar and we could unscrew its lid to pour in balls the size of our planet at the rate of a hundred a second, we couldn't fill Betelgeuse in 30,000 years." -(From Bob Berman's book Secrets of the Night Sky)

If you just read that quickly, do me a favor and read it over again. (Since, if I were in conversation with you, I'd probably study your face for the reaction I'm looking for, and if it wasn't forthcoming I'd repeat, more slowly and with greater emphasis.)

Can you wrap your mind around that kind of masivity? Because I can't. It completely blows me away and leaves me shaking my head in bewilderment. Something that huge is unfathimable; utterly and simply unfathimable.

So, back to tonight. I was moon gazing. And I so longed to take a picture of what I could see! The crisp, fine lines of gigantuan craters; the sillhouetts of mountains against the black atmosphere and the shadow cast by the side of the moon farthest from the sun! Silky, milkish texture and dark gray blotches. I ran inside and got my camera to experiment a bit. The picture turned out surprisingly clear and beautiful, though a bit farther away then what I could see with my eye. Isn't it awesome?

But....after all...it's just the moon. We've all seen identical pictures a thousand times and I guess to an extent, it ceases to amaze us. Somehow when you freeze it in photo it looses a little bit of it magic. In the telescope it was even crisper, more three dimentional and clearly moving from my field of vision. In the photo, it's just the same moon we've always seen since grade school.

Studying the sky and seeing it more closely has made me worship in a deeper way. With David, I say,

When I consider thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him?" -Psalm 8:3-4

The moon which caused David to worship is the same moon I looked at tonite. Only, he had never seen the detail I saw this evening through the telescope. Can you IMAGINE what he'd have done if I could have seen what we see? And the stars that he references...he didn't know that the bright one on Orion's shoulder, Betelgeuse, is big enough to fit millions of our globe inside of it. He just knew that it was all vast, and unatainable and unimagionable, and all of it was the work of God's fingers. God, the Starkindler. God, the one who set the planets in their course and the earth spinning, flung the lights to the farthest depths of the universe which no mortal human eye will ever even see. And He did it all (I believe) so that we would join David in considering our own puny finiteness and God's infiniteness. We are like a breathe, David says in another Psalm (90). Like a vapor. Our life is comparable to a blade of grass that grows and fades and decays within a few weeks' time without the slightest impact to the rest of the world around it.

And the stars, the planets, the suns? They've rotated in a cosmic dance through space as the ages have rolled on and on... doing what they were meant to do. Shouting God's glory to the watching, wondering eyes of men. Those obedient, worshipful stars! Declaring the glory of God (Psalm 19:1) and little caring whether we notice them or not.

We can learn a lesson from the stars.

Many lessons.

Methinks if there were more stargazers in the world, there would be fewer athiests.

Then again, perhaps I'm wrong. Men choose ignorance, even in the face of such glory... and the silent whitnesses will be their accusers on the day of judgment.

Yikes. I'm getting a little morbid.

I suppose I've come to the end of what I wanted to say; a rather long and discombobulated post. I just had to talk about those silent shouters up there for a moment. I didn't want to take for granted this chance to encourage my friends and family to pause and worship God for the ordinary things we take for granted like the sun and the moon and the stars. They are SHOUTING His praise, if we only take a moment to listen. (And don't just listen.... join them!!) For your heavenly Father, the Lord of the Universe, counts the hairs on your head, numbers your days, and directs each minute of your life. What a humbling, awe-inspiring, comforting thought. If He can direct the universe, He is more than able to direct our lives. Worship Him for that today. And surrender completely to such power.

You just gotta know my Gramps...

2011-10-02T22:08:00.004-04:00

Just a few hours ago, I was on the beach in Naples, Florida. With my toes dug into the cool sand, I watched as the last orange, searingly brilliant sliver of sun melted into the sea.

Wow.

Breathtaking. There's not much that makes me worship quite like a sunset in Florida.

After the show, I trudged up the soft sands to where my Grandpa Oriti sat on a bench. The breeze was constant but gentle, and the palm trees were now silhouetted black against the tangerine sky. I sat next to Grandpa and we were quiet for a while. Then he inched his arm gently around my shoulders and broke the silence.

"You know what, Dani?"

"What, Gramps?"

"I think I could sit here with you for....

....for another three minutes or so."

Victory!!

2011-09-28T10:25:00.010-04:00

More than ten years ago, Pastor Dennis McCoy began a beautiful ministry at our church; a bus ministry for inner city kids in Barberton. Among the children who faithfully hopped on the bus each Sunday morning was Michael--a skinny, quiet, earnest little fellow whose reverence in church never seemed to match his family situation. We didn't know much about that situation, other than that his father was an alcoholic, not frequently in the home... his mother was an alcoholic too, and--we later learned--a drug addict. Time passed, and a lot of changes occured in our church, including a new pastor. Michael grew, vertically in particular. Taller and skinnier, he still faithfully traipsed to church each Sunday and, on the verge of teenage years now, his interest in God began to grow. It began to change him from a child to a young man. Already prematurely "adult" because of the man he had to be in the home (his father in-and-out of prison, sometimes abusive, now living with another woman), his mature leadership in his home began to draw his mother to church more frequently. Oh, she used to appear for Christmas pageants or special events, but now she began attending regularly.

And one day, Jesus found her, huddling miserably at the bottom of the pit she had dug herself into. He reached down, grabbed her outstretched hands, and pulled her out of the drug addiction, out of the alcoholism, out of the hopelessness. Jan's entire countenance changed! Her face was radiant. Her spirit was ALIVE. Her heart was set free and she wanted to tell the world about it...and she did! Co-workers, family members, random strangers.... and Michael's dad.

But Michael's dad, Mike, was still in prison; literally and figuratively. He had told Jan that he wasn't going to make a choice to follow God unless he was willing to give himself completely to that decision. As it was, the chains still bound him in a vicious cycle of homelessness, abusive habits, alcoholism, and prison. One day, back in prison, he asked for a Bible. And he began to read it. Longing filled his heart and he realized that he, too, had had enough. He surrendered. And suddenly, still in prison, his heart was set free! When he was released, we were amazed by the change in him. His face was radiant; his manner was kind and humble. Mike's desire was to repair the relationship with Jan and become the father he'd never been to Michael. He, too, began to tell the world about what had happened to him. Parol officers, family, and old friends. He can sometimes be found quietly weeding the church grounds or manicuring the flower beds without telling a soul what he's doing. He's been given so much by God, and he's looking for ways to give back.

Soon his nephew, Bobby, saw the change in his uncle. He couldn't believe that the angry, fighting, drunken man he had once known was this gentle, kind, joyful stranger. Bobby realized that something was missing from his own life. He realized that the drugs and alcohol had stripped him from everything that was once important to him, and he couldn't save himself from it no matter how hard he tried. He began to attend church with his uncle. And a few months ago, he too prayed for salvation from his chains. He's begun bringing his family members to church, and his daughter in particular-aware of the change in her dad- is eager to know more about God.

A couple weeks ago, we held a baptism in a public park. Curious onlookers watched and a few unconcerned ducks and geese floated past as a family (finally a family!)-- mother, father, and son-- entered the water. In this public setting for all the world to see, they symbolically left their old life at the murky bottom of the lake, and rose with shouts of victory and hands upraised in glorious praise to the Savior Who had delivered them from the depths of sin!

A quiet, skinny kid had led them to this place... and the faithfulness of numerous believers had facilitated it. Pastor McCoy had planted, countless faithful believers had watered, and here we were seeing the fruit. And already, that fruit is bearing more fruit. Those of you who had a part in this beautiful day, rejoice to see the pictures below!!!

Last Sunday in church, Jan stood up front and sang with tears in her eyes,

"My chains are gone... I've been set free...My God, my Savior, has ransomed me! And like a flood His mercy reigns... unending love; amazing grace."

I wish you could have seen her.

She was radiant.

GRACE.

RESTORATION.

HEALING.

SALVATION.

LOVE.

MERCY.

DELIVERANCE.

HOPE.

JOY...

These are the things our Great God offers to us!

2011-09-22T08:00:00.001-04:00

Lover of All, I hold me fast by Thee,

Ruler of time, King of Eternity

There is no great with Thee, there is no small,

For Thou art all, and fillest all in all.

The newborn world swings forth at Thy command,

The falling dewdrop falls into Thy hand.

God of the firmament's mysterious powers

I see Thee thread the minutes of my hours.

-Amy Carmichael

Gold, Moose, and Sad Farewells :(

2011-09-19T11:37:00.010-04:00

(So actually we left Alaska over a week ago. But I haven't posted since so this is the "official" au revoir!)

A beautiful shot of Nome from the beach

Nathaniel hasn't gotten a moose yet, but God provided in other ways. Some good friends offered a hindquarter of their moose. So we drove out to their house and began butchering. It took an entire evening to get the hidquarter (roughly 70-80 lbs. of meat) butchered and packed--some into mooseburger and some in roasts. But we had fun doing it and are so thankful for God's provision to get the Hobbs through another winter!

This hindquarter is HUGE. It's hard to tell in the picture.

It was a beautiful evening so we were grateful for the chance to cut the meat outside.

It's a family affair! Even the kids pitch in as busy little butcherers :)

Leg, anyone?

(Okay so I'm being oober dramatic here, but it really was very heavy.)

The family who gave us the moose enjoys recreational gold prospecting. After we cut up the meat they showed us how they do it. So fascinating! And SO much work for such a tiny amount of gold...

The gold flakes in the larger bottle are what they collected from the year of prospecting.

The nugget was mined by a professional miner.

Pretty cool!

Here's a picture of the "real" miners out on their gold dredges on the Bering Sea. They pepper the sea every day that it's calm until winter sets in. It's intense work, too... one man is underneath in the frigid water, sucking up the sea floor through a huge hose, while another man on the dredge monitors the flow and makes sure that the guy below isn't having any trouble. They still find a huge amount of gold on the sea floor. All this work for riches that will one day melt away. How much harder should I work to secure the riches that are eternal--more precious than gold--laid up in heaven!?

It was so tough to say goodbye to my dear friends James and Amy and their little boys Justice and Archer. They're leaving Nome and settling in a part of Alaska on the road system where James can more easily pursue his art career.

He's an INCREDIBLE artist.

Seriously...

(Click here to see a slideshow on their blog of a mural he just completed in a village school)

...And I pray God will bless them on this new adventure. I'm super excited to see how He's going to lead them! but it sure won't seem like Nome without them there!! I'll miss popping over and chatting with Amy over some random craft or project she's working on. *sigh!*

A final early morning picture right before mom and I left --all of us (even Nathaniel) in our kuspuks.

Oops the boys are in jammies, but Mimi is making them kuspuks so maybe next year they'll be dressed up too. :)

But wait... why on earth is THIS GIRL sporting a kuspuk!!??

Alas, she is abandoning me tomorrow and flying to...of all places...Nome Alaska.

Look out, Nome, she's takin' you by storm! :)

RuthAnn, RuthAnn..... how could you leave me!?

Okay. In all truth I am SO, so so happy for RuthAnn. She's going to be working with native children and families through the Nome Community Center (where I used to work but a diff. job). This is a dream come true and an answer to a boatload of prayers. God bless you my sweet friend, and may your wildest dreams come true in Alaska! :) I would never in a million years keep you here, but I will miss you terribly.

Auntie Time

2011-09-07T13:08:00.008-04:00

Mom and Carlee have been trying to get some sewing done while we're in town, and I took the kiddos to the beach for lunch yesterday so we'd be out of the way. Now, I know you don't usually associate a picnic on the beach with winter coats and hats, but hey in Nome you strike while the sun's shining so we bundled up and headed out! The kids seem to be strangely immune to the frigid water and plowed through the shallows finding all sorts of treasures... little harmless jellyfish, tiny krill, a hermit crab, and countless starfish; yellow, purple and orange.

A starfish nursery :)

Shaina's baby starfish

On the Nome beach there are almost no shells, but there are colorful pieces of glass or pottery that the sea has sanded to smooth, small pieces; mostly brown, green, white or blue.

Katie LOVES searching for beach glass!

So this is actually not from our picnic, but I love this picture of Caleb with his hands in his pockets. He loves to walk like this. :)

Unfortunately, our happy beach romp didn't end so blissfully. By the time we left, Caleb was screaming and cold, Wesley was bleeding and crying, sand, wind, cold water and snot were mingling into a gooey mess all over little faces and clothing, and Auntie Dani was about to curl up right then and there on the beach in a fetal position, muttering maniacally to herself, "Overachiever! Overachiever!"

Aunt Dani should not bite off more than she can chew.

But hey the first 3/4 of our time was awesome and I recovered sufficiently from the trauma to play a rousing game of Twister with the kids before bed.

(This pic is a CLASSIC Wesley picture! The little drama king gets so intense when he's telling you stories...those big blue eyes get wide, his arms flail, and his little lips purse...)

Have I ever mentioned that I love Nome?

2011-09-04T21:52:00.006-04:00

Yep, Nome sweet Nome! So good to be back.

Here are some shots:

What a joy to have Grandpa in Nome! He and dad left yesterday (Saturday) and mom and I are staying for another week. Gramps enjoyed riding the 6-wheeler on Nome beach. :)

Carlee and Grandpa on Anvil Mountain, with the city of Nome in the background.

The kids loved roughhousing with Grandpa. Here, Wesley's dinosaur and Grandpa prepare for battle! Whodaya think won...?

Welsey demonstrates his stellar climbing skills! (I love the look of proud accomplishment on his face here. What a kid! :)

We had fun spending Thursday at a cabin on the beach. Shaina discovered a bunch of late season blueberries growing on the tundra and we picked a bunch! Moose hunting season has just opened up, so Nathaniel and dad were off while we stayed at the cabin, and we kept a gun close by because there are a lot of bear in the area. (Notice, by the way, the beautiful kuspuks Mom and Carlee are wearing!)

Caleb stood on the deck of the cabin and scanned the sea for signs of whales, like we were. He wasn't sure exactly what the purpose of the binoculars were, but he glibly pressed them to his forehead like he thought we were doing...and felt very grown-up, indeed.

Grandpa loved seeing the musk ox. There's a herd that hangs out on Anvil Mountain (right outside of Nome) and these guys passed right in front of us on the road giving quite a show. :) They're cool animals.

Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs. :) Carlee's hair is growing back beautifully and although there are many MANY leftover effects from her cancer battle, she's been able to do so much with us! It's been fun to get out into the wild and not leave her behind this time. Thanks be to God. Please keep praying for her continued health and the complete eradication of cancer. And while you're praying, say a prayer that Nathaniel will get a moose this year! They really count on the meat from his hunts and it would be a huge blessing if he could get one. And quickly. :)

Something about drops of water in nature flip my switch. I love taking shots like this.

An absolutely gorgeous fox was kind enough to pose at this picturesque log while we snapped some photos. He was as curious about us as we were about him!

My little man-cub is growing up. :( Noah is 8 yrs. old!!

Sadly, there are quite a few dead walrus on the beach... and even a dead beluga. Most of the walrus show signs of having been poached. What a horrible practice. (Can you see massive size of this walrus? Wow!)

Shaina and Kate. Putting flowers on top of the head is all the rage with Kate right now. What a trendsetter...go girl!

Me and my 'Lub!

A Hobb betwixt two Sobies. :)

Have I ever mentioned that I love Alaska?

2011-08-30T18:51:00.013-04:00

This trip has already been pretty epic, and we've been here for less than a week! The first 5 days were spent in Anchorage with Nate, who's a bush pilot and flight instructor there. Five days weren't enough. We packed a ton into that time but you always wish for another evening to chat, another day to bum around A-town or hike the woods.

And it's amazing...My 88 yr. old Grandpa joined mom, dad and I on this trip! Is he a trooper or what? He's having the time of his life. Having him along on this trip is so meaningful to all of us.

When we stepped off the plane in Anchorage, and were plunged into fall. (Is it really still summer back home?) In Alaska the tundra is changing to a thousand shades of gold, red orange and yellow.... and some of the highest mountaintops already have a dusting of snow.

Okay: I'll quit talking now.

Pictures do more justice. :)

We loved visiting Alyeska Resort and taking the tram to the top of the mountain.

Gorgeous scenery.

We stopped for lunch before heading out to visit Portage Glacier.

It's hard to describe the massive size of what you're looking at here... so incredible!

Nate saved me from being eaten by a bear.

What a brother!

And speaking of "What a brother," not everyone has a bro who can take them on a flight over glaciers and mountains! How fun!
This is the airport at which Nate teaches, Merrill Field.
Refueling the plane

Mom hates to fly, so she was pretty brave to go up. Go mom!
(I did notice that she kept clutching at the door of the plane though... I wondered if she planned on jumping in case of emergency?)
(Of COURSE Gramps and I weren't nervous!)
We flew over the Knik Glacier. Over 5 miles wide!!
It was cool to see bear, moose, and beluga whales from the air.

The 6 hr. cruise out of Seward was also a highlight of our time. What a spectacular harbor!

The first half of our cruise was super rainy but Nate and I loved the rough seas. :) The second half was beautiful and we saw a ton of wildlife!
A fleeting glimpse of a humpback whale
Two seals... can you believe how they blend in? :)
A rock full of lazy sea lions

Driving along the Seward Highway we saw a bear.... MY FIRST BEAR!!!
How fun is THAT!? We were pretty much ecstatic.
Nate was ashamed of his touristy family. (Snobby sourdough!)

A parting shot...

Well golly, whoda' thought I'd see my good pal Sarah Palin while shopping?
She said she's heard of my famous Sarah Palin Imitation and begged me to do it for her.
She loved it.
She actually endorsed it.

A little diddy

2011-08-09T13:05:00.003-04:00

This morning I was thinking about my brother and sister Carlee and Nate on their birthday today, and I was missing them.

At times like this it is the deep, raw emotion of the moment that births a song within my inmost being and thus, I found that the words poured from my heart onto paper. The tune was not long in coming (a very complex tune, as you will see) and now, I present to you, Carleen and Nathan,

An Ode To August 9th

...Sorta' in the style of Johnny Cash (deepest apologies to him).

Happy birthday, sibs!

In Which I Wax Eloquent About My Happy Place...

2011-08-08T14:35:00.008-04:00

Ah, yes.

My happy place. Blossom!

The place that never seems to change, and when I'm there it seems as if nothing else has changed either. I've gone there with my family nearly every Summer since I was young enough to remember. we sit on the massive grassy slope and listen to the Cleveland Orchestra playing in the ampatheater below while gradually, as dusk sets in, a thousand crickets and cicadas tune up for an orchestra of their own-- my favorite sound in all the world, other than the voices of people I love.

And then, as if the two blending orchestras weren't enough, God sets his stars blazing one by one overhead while we lay on the blanket and gaze up at the sky.

There are always lovers sitting together and sipping wine and nibbling on cheese from the dainty basket they brought along (it's the most romantic spot EVER), and more than one family passing around munchies from their clunky coolers. Elegant couples light candles on the grass around their chairs and groups of young people in jeans and T-shirts pass around sodas. It's the quintessential meld of young and old, fun and formal, elegant and casual. It's a place of culture, which I always find reassuring in a society that has, I believe, lost much of its enjoyment of the finer arts and music. It's a place where TV and computer are absent and people are present; together; enjoying each other. (Except for the few folks I saw whipping around ipods. Come on people. Fer real?? That's just bad. It's a free country but not THAT free...The Blossom Police should ban it. In fact since it's so important to me they should make ME the Blossom Police.) Anyhow.

So Blossom is one of my favorite places in the world, because it's a mix of all my favorite things: my favorite people (family), my favorite sounds (crickets and the Cleveland orchestra), my favorite site (stars) and the nostalgia of tradition....which has become very precious to me. Yep, like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof I'm all about traditions. :)

And one other cool thing about Blossom this year: I had a hot date.

...Yessirree! :)

Mom, Dad, Grandpa and I at Blossom

Now I know you must be DYING to visit Blossom, but perhaps you live too far away. If so, I've gone to all the trouble of recording a bit of last night's performance so you can catch a bit of the feel of my Happy Place. You can even hear the crickets too. :)

For anyone else who's reading this and lives in Ohio, you really ought to attend and take me along. I'd be a first-rate tour guide.

As long as you feed me.

'Cuz part of the tradition involves snacks.

(Cherries, among other things.)

2011-07-24T15:03:00.007-04:00

A week ago I was driving to the Omaha, Nebraska airport and said the prayer I normally pray when about to board a plane.

(...No, not "God please keep this thing in the air because I don't comprehend how it will get there in the first place;" I normally pray that while ON the plane.)

I simply told God that I was available, if anyone on my flight might need to chat about Him. I figure that on a plane where over a hundred people are sitting there is most likely a needy soul on board, and if God so chooses to put us together maybe I could point that person to Jesus.

So, I board my flight and sit down.

"Isle seat," I think.

"Bummer. I prefer the window."

Next to me is a man--by no means petite--who will probably overlap onto my arm rest. Next to him, enjoying my coveted window seat, is a portly woman "Who," (whispers my neighbor man to me confidentially) "Really ought to have purchased two seats because I'm gonna be cramped this whole flight."

I thought, "Dani, you ought to offer to sit in the middle since he's bigger so he doesn't have to be cramped,"

I retorted, "Danielle! You don't want to be squished between a portly woman and a large man the whole flight!"

I'm sorry if you're grieved to hear it, but that retort quickly won the argument and I stayed firmly planted in my isle seat. However, perhaps in a guilty attempt to make my squashed neighbor's flight more enjoyable, I struck up a conversation with him.

The usual questions. I discovered that he was traveling to Cleveland on business, and that he was a geophysicist.

"Hmmm.... 'geo?' Something to do with rocks. Sounds smart. I feel intimidated."

I could have impressed him greatly by telling him that I was a Nutrix Humilitas Adiuvat (NHA for short) ...but I just made it up and it's merely Latin for "Lowly Nurse Aid..." So I just told him I was a caregiver.

We started to discuss his job, which led us to a discussion about fossils (most of which I didn't understand but nodded politely nevertheless) and then on to a talk about dinosaurs. The entire time we were talking, I was having an inward battle (I have those frequently). I wanted to discuss the topic of evolution vs. creation with him. But I knew that this fellow was a geophysicist, whatever that exactly means, and that made me feel very shy about discussing a scientific topic such as this with him. And yet, I remembered that prayer I had prayed. Maybe this fellow needed to have a talk about God with me. And perhaps a good way to get that talk started would be to broach the topic of the origin of the world. Was I willing to look like a fool? Was I willing to trust God to give me words to say if I got in a discussion with a geophysicist?

I took a deep breath.

"So...What do you think? Did dinosaurs and men walk the earth together?"

There. I had taken the plunge. That ought to start a doozy of a discussion.

And it did!

My new friend, whose name turned out to be William, gave me a knowing look and a patient chuckle. He already knew that I was "religious" and had guessed that I believed in the "fable" of Adam and Eve. Since I believe that God created the world, I believe that men and dinosaurs were created in the same week and they lived together. (I also believe that science backs this up.) But to him, as an evolutionist, my views seemed as preposterous as believing in fairies or Santa Claus. Thus began an amazing discussion which ended up lasting nearly two hours. William was a highly intelligent and scientific man, yet he respected the fact that I have obviously studied what I believe and don't simply believe it because it's what I've been told. We listened politely to each other and had a few good laughs over the incredibly wide chasm between our two beliefs. What's more, as we talked the conversation drifted further from evolution and closer to the real crux of the issue: is there a God, and if so, why has He created us and what will happen to us after we die? William realized that I was truly interested in his point of view and not just eager to share my own, and he opened up about WHY he believes what he believes.

"Dani, there's one big difference between you and me. And that difference is impossible to overcome. You see, I'm a scientist, and I only believe what I can SEE. What you believe requires faith. And I have no faith. I will never have faith. And so I can't believe."

I smiled. "You're right: it does take faith. And yet, you'd be surprised at how very much of what I believe CAN be backed up by science, William. I don't think that as a Christian I just have to accept everything on blind faith. I think there's a lot of proof and a lot of evidence to back up the Bible. And not only that, but I think that if you just look around you at the world, you can see that there MUST have been a Creator." I picked up a Coke can from the tray table and held it out. "When you see this can, you know that it must have been manufactured somewhere. Someone thought to put the handy pull-tab on the top and put the lettering on the sides. It would be ludicrous to say that the can just happened to fall together by chance, because it obviously has a design and a designer! So how can you say that something so intricate as this incredibly magnificent world---from the leaves to the birds to humans to rocks--just happened to appear out of thin air?"

William laughed. "Well, I don't believe it appeared out of thin air, Dani. I believe in the Big Bang. The world came to be from a super hot fireball of energetic radiation."

"I see.... Where did the fireball come from?"

"Atoms."

"And where did the atoms come from?"

"Photons and particles, all mixing together..."

"What was the origin of the photons and particles?"

William paused. "Well I don't really know..." Here, I laughed. "Aha!! You see? You just told me that you are not a man of faith, and yet when you analyze your theory, you're eventually left with something that you must have faith in. You never saw the Big Bang occur, and you don't know how the first little particle got there in the first place. The fact is, William, you ARE a man of faith."

This thought rather horrified my friend, but he couldn't quite deny that the end of the matter required a bit of faith on his part, too. I encouraged him to ponder the evidence of a Creator and think of the implications if there truly IS an all-wise, powerful God who created us.

Our discussion wasn't a stressful, argumentative one. We were both stimulated and intrigued by each other's points of view. William even thanked me for the conversation in parting, and said that it was a rare conversation; one he'd only have perhaps every five years or so. I gave him a few things to think about, and he certainly gave me a few things to think about.

Why is it that faith in a theory seems so much less threatening to William than faith in a Creator? Logically, the chances of the Big Bang occurring are infinitesimal.... impossible, really. (If a printing press explodes do you end up with a dictionary!? You don't get order out of chaos.) And yet William would rather believe that butterflies, babies, and beaches occurred from a cosmic accident rather than that a loving Hand designed it all. Why? Because

IF THERE IS A GOD, WE WILL ANSWER TO HIM.

This, then is the end of the matter. To my new friend, it wasn't about what seemed to be the most logical theory. It was about the theory that he was least threatened by; most comfortable with. Eradicate God, and you have eradicated the need to be morally responsible to Anyone for anything. It's a bleakly comforting thought to some people, and yet it leaves them without any moral compass. (William couldn't even give me a reason for why Hitler was wrong in killing millions of Jews, or why a rapist or murderer should be punished. All he could say was "Those wrong deeds are against my personal code of ethics.") Oh, how SAD!

The truth of the matter? God has not made us to be so aimless and confused. He has put the knowledge of Himself into every man, and whether or not they admit it, they have to suppress the truth they are born with on order to claim that He does not exist. God is not a fool. He created us and has given us ample proof of His power. When we stand before Him some day, what will we say if we've refused to acknowledge Him in our lifetime? Will we pretend that we didn't know He existed?

A better way would be to ask Him to reveal Himself to us now.

If you doubt Him, then ask Him to show Himself to you.

He will.

He promises to do it, in James 4:8- "Come close to God, and God will come close to you. Wash your hands, you sinners; purify your hearts, for your loyalty is divided between God and the world."

I pray for William when I think about it. He seemed pretty set in his thinking, but who knows: the God who created the universe can surely create a tiny atom of faith in William's heart. Do you need faith? Then I pray the same for you.

So if you'd enjoy a bit of dialogue with me regarding this topic, write me. I'd love it. (My address can be found if you click on my profile.)

...And I make you a promise I didn't make to William: I won't make you the topic of my next blog post. :)

Are you good enough?

2011-07-24T14:57:00.002-04:00

GRACE. How I thank God for it.

A Quick Post

2011-07-12T16:33:00.003-04:00

I'm in the middle of a two-week trip with the Bright Lights ministry. We're putting on conferences for young ladies in Wisconsin and Nebraska. Right now we're in Omaha and the conference will begin in a few hours... but I thought I'd put a link to Grace's web site so you could see a few pictures of what the past week's conferences looked like (Click here)!

The Bright Lights conferences will be coming to Ohio (Willoughby Hills) in August, and if you're close to the area and are interested stop by the web site here. The Strong In The Lord conference is geared towards girls around the ages of 8-14 and the Purity Conference is for young ladies 12-22+ yrs. Older and younger girls can attend as well, with permission. Mothers and fathers are strongly urged to attend as well.

Any other questions? Leave a comment. :)

Missing them...

2011-07-02T00:30:00.005-04:00

It's hard to believe that my year in the Cove with "Doc and the Little Lady" has really passed. Two people whom I had never met 12 months ago made me cry a few days ago as I said goodbye. I suppose the only thing that makes goodbyes bearable is when I convince myself that they really aren't final goodbyes; I'll see the people I love again. And maybe even soon.

Isn't it amazing, that--at least I've found it so-- when an experience passes and the memory of it becomes a snapshot of sorts in one's mind, the beauty of it seems to come into sharper, clearer focus while any part of it that's not so pleasant to remember melts into an intangible haze on the fringe of your mind? So it is with this life experience that God gifted to me. I think back in wonder to the many ways I've been blessed, trained, equipped, and enriched through my time with the Grens... and my heart wells up with thanks to the Giver of all such good things.

I cant' shake the feeling that the "end of an era" for me ought to be given some more eloquent musing (and it will be--in my mind and heart where it belongs!)...but in the meantime, I will leave you, my patient reader, with the same words with which I left Mr. Gren:

PSA--

2011-06-29T23:25:00.002-04:00

My email address has changed. If you didn't get a note about it and should have, you can click "contact me" on my profile.

Friends, laughter, and words I can't spell

2011-06-29T13:33:00.008-04:00

My friend Chelsea introduced me to Rachel who lives not too terribly far from my "home" in Massachusetts. (Note! I am incapable of learning how to spell "Massachusetts"! Without fail I misspell it every time even after careful and concerted study of the word.) Mr. Gren kindly drove me part of the way so I could spend four days with Rachel, her brother Daniel, and Chelsea (who flew from FLORIDA to join us!). It was a blast. The backdrop was a picturesque New Hampshire farm, on which Rachel lives and is the main caregiver for her grandparents.

We laughed a lot. The kind of laughing that gives your stomach muscles that happy, tired feeling.

We took ridiculously goofy (bordering on bizarre) pictures, and then laughed hysterically over them. More happy tummy muscles.

We hiked until I thought we might keel over and die (9 miles isn't THAT far, but half of it was up a mountain and the other half was shoe-less!)

We ate copious amounts of ice cream from a dreamy ice cream place called Wade's.

We had a terrific photo session. :)

We spent an afternoon shooting a pistol, rifle, paintball gun, and even a potato gun. Rachel was an unbelievable shot... Annie Oakley type of unbelievable! I was a horrid shot, but I did leave some well-placed marks with the paintball gun on Daniel's car. Teehee!

I think that by far, the best parts of our time together were the conversations we had. Talking with a friend who really understands you is precious. Talking with a friend who helps you to understand GOD more is priceless.

So thanks guys. :)

Texas Doings

2011-06-16T11:31:00.007-04:00

Elisabeth enjoys a moment with Margaret Ashmore, one of the dear Texan friends she and Lars have made over the years. It's been a huge gift for me to get to know Margaret. She's an amazing woman with a heart as vast as the state she calls home. Click here to check out her web site and read her testimony.

On Tuesday some friends of the Grens put on a beautiful tea and invited folks who either know and love Elisabeth and Lars or have wanted to meet them. We stayed up until after 2:00 am baking cheesecakes, cinnamon rolls, and other goodies and it was worth it; the tea was a beautiful time. Lars spoke for a few minutes and, as usual, had the crowd laughing with his engaging stories of life as Elisabeth Elliot's husband. :)

Laura and her husband Trent are another couple I've been privileged to meet through L&E. They've got darling kids, who Laura brought to the tea, and as you see Elisabeth always enjoys a moment with little ones.

Last Saturday I was a bridesmaid in Kendalyn's Houston, TX wedding. :)

Here we are the day before she ties the knot with Robert.

WOW, Kendalyn is married!?!?!? What a beautiful bride my friend was. (Is!)Her mother had handmade this dress for her own wedding over 20 yrs. ago and it is still gorgeous.

We bridesmades had a few dress malfunctions. (B-I-G understatement.)

One of which was the buttons. The little beasties kept popping off. Here we are about 5 minutes before the wedding sewing away. By the end of the evening little blue buttons were littering the ground where we walked and we had ceased to care.

It was pretty funny.

Amy, Kenalyn and I...three friends from the good old days. :)

Amy and I were kinda' crazy bridesmaids, I'm afraid.

Probably had more fun together than should be legal.

2011-06-16T10:10:00.006-04:00

Back from our trip to Alabama and Texas, I was laying in bed last night staring into the harsh screen of my laptop when a soft, urgent glimmer out the window caught my eye. Glancing up, I saw a sight that literally took my breath away. Making my way to the window, there was the silver moonlight reflecting on the water, sparkling like a million tiny lights dancing on each ripple in a shimmering path. It was, perhaps, the most magical sight I've ever seen. I saw it another full moon when I first came (pictures above) but somehow this time was even more glorious, I think, and all I could do was pause there, soak it in, gaze at it and whisper my praises to the Author of such beauty! If I am in awe of His work, I can't help but wonder what sort of beauty and awesome wonder awaits me when I see HIM?

So I stood there and I whispered "Thank you, Jesus....thank You, thank You..."

A Wedding!

2011-06-05T10:59:00.002-04:00

Starting a new life together with prayer

Yesterday we attended the wedding of Elisabeth's granddaughter, Evangeline, in Alabama. It was a BEAUTIFUL wedding (though--really now--don't we say that about them all?) The ceremony was held outdoors on the groom's family ranch. All eight of Elisabeth's grandchildren were there and I was SO glad to finally meet them all!

The grandmother of the bride and her Official Hairdresser (I bestowed the name upon myself.)

Elisabeth and her daughter Valerie chat for a moment before the wedding

Walter gives his daughter away

The second and third generation of Jim Elliots!

(Valerie's son Jim holds his nephew Jimmy during the ceremony)

The beautiful bride and good lookin' groom

What a joy it's been to get to know Valerie and her husband Walter during my time caring for Elisabeth. Before we left the reception, several of Elisabeth's grandchildren came to me with tears in their eyes to thank me for caring for and specifically LOVING their grandma. That meant more to me than I could ever say. I'm not really sure how to express it, but having had a (VERY) small part in the lives of Jim Elliot's wife, daughter and grandchildren is an amazing experience that I never would have dreamed about when I first read his journals years ago and was dramatically changed by his life story. God does surprise us every once-in-a-while...doesn't He? :)

A Combat for Condemnation

2011-06-04T14:50:00.006-04:00

This morning I showed annoyance towards the first person I talked to. As they walked away from me, I sighed and hung my head in shame. I realized again how utterly unable I am to do right when I'm not asking Jesus for grace.

Why did I sleep in this morning instead of praying and spending time with Jesus? If I had, I know I wouldn't have responded to an annoyance that way. Questions and condemnations swirl in my head and make me feel almost sick with regret. Words and looks can't be retracted... mistakes can't be rectified... I can't hit the rewind button and do it all over again. Sigh.

Lately is seems as if the thing I struggle most with is condemnation from Satan. I see how very, very far away from being just like Christ, and I feel that I must be frustrating and ugly to Him... I must grieve Him and annoy Him. It makes me feel dirty when I come to pray. It makes me shrink before His presence instead of coming boldly to the throne of... GRACE.

But a few moments ago I listened to this song and I pictured Jesus stooping down and lifting my head, so I can look into His eyes. I'm full of shame and remorse and expecting condemnation but what I see when I look there is love, and tenderness, and forgiveness. Most shockingly, I see that He find me beautiful. He has clothed me in HIS robe of righteousness, because I have none wherewith to clothe myself. Trying to somehow do pennance and make myself prettier before I draw near to Him is an insult and a futile effort.

My Jesus... I accept your acceptance! I will stop confusing guilt with repentance. Guilt drives me from You: repentance drives me TO You. I will stop trying so hard on my own and forgetting that YOU have made me beautiful! YOU are grace, forgiveness, and love! YOU are my Glory, and you and the Lifter of my head!

Oh, You are so kind.

Laughing Fits

2011-05-28T16:20:00.008-04:00

Do you ever have them?

Moments when you just can NOT stop the laughter and it spills out no matter what grievous, sober thoughts you try to stifle it with?

My laughing fits are unique in that, if I haven't laughed in a while, it doesn't necessarily take something funny to set me off. (At least not funny to the normal person.) If I am laughter deprived, you may be holding a normal conversation with me and the next moment I am rolling on the ground laughing uncontrollably with tears rolling down my cheeks. Luckily, there are warnings to these inconvenient episodes. Bubbles of laughter the pop out of me when merely a smile is necessary. THis normally happens for a few days before a full-fledged fit occurs.

Fits occur at inopportune times, often. One, in fact, was caught on camera. It was in Ukraine last year and someone was trying to take a picture of me with my niece and a man's pet crow and chicken. (Long story.) It struck me as so odd to be holding a crow and a chicken that I started laughing.

...And laughing....

And I COULD NOT STOP.

Damara is used to it and laughed with me. The little Ukranian boy is trying to maintain a smile and awkwardly thinking "Yikes get me away from the crazy American lady." The crow, too, was getting disturbed (though the chicken didn't seem to care; in fact she seemed to be pondering laying an egg on my hand Maybe the laughter reminded her of the noise from the chicken coop she grew up in and was soothing).

Why am I telling you all this on a blog that is mostly set aside for edification and interestingness?

I don't really know.

Maybe I just feel like chatting.

And maybe it's because I keep having those bubbles today. Laughter bubbles. I'm sitting alone in my room and silly little things are making me laugh. I fear for Lars and Elisabeth....

Like tremors before an earthquake, like smoke before a fire, like sputters before a volcano, I'm being warned of an impending eruption.

A laughing fit is imminent.

BE INFORMED!

2011-05-20T13:44:00.004-04:00

It's hard for me to explain how passionate I feel about the issue of America's relation with Israel, and how incredibly disgusted and appalled I am by the reception Obama gave to Netanyahu yesterday! Obama does NOT speak for all Americans and I hope that we'll stand up and be counted as friends and supporters of Israel! Why are we pouring millions of dollars into hostile Muslim countries when we have exceeded the debt ceiling in our own? Why are we siding with radical, hate-filled nations against our peaceful ally Israel?

What kind of arrogance induces America's president to demand Israel to give up their own land to pacify nations who want to wipe them off the map!? Does he know Who he's insulting?

"I will bless those who bless you (Israel), and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you." -Gen. 12:3

Maybe someone else needs to hear this too...

2011-05-17T11:48:00.005-04:00

Read in Luke 8 today. A familiar story. Jesus and His disciples are in a boat when a HUGE storm comes up. The boat literally fills with water. His disciples--who are fishermen most of them and no doubt used to storms at sea--are terrified. Jesus is sleeping on a pillow in the back of the boat (though I'm suspicious that He was probably pretending). His disciples are trying to fight the storm out on their own and then finally, in desperation wake Him and say,

"Master, Master, we perish."

(Here I always pause and wonder what angst old King James had towards exclamation marks! This would have surely been an appropriate place to insert one. Or maybe two or three.)

Jesus wakes up, calms the storm, and rebukes them for being so faithless.

Here I pause my reading and think a little. Why did Jesus rebuke them? All they did was wake Him up and state an obvious fact-- "The boat is sinking. We're going to die." Was that worth being called "Oh ye of little faith?" It didn't seem like a bad thing they did. Jesus seemed to be a little hard on His poor frazzled disciples. After all they didn't have this story to read in their Bibles. They hadn't sung songs about Jesus calming the storm in Sunday school ever since they were little kids. They didn't know the script or the end of the story yet.

Frankly? I would have been terrified, too.

Before I charged Jesus with insensitivity, I decided to read the other accounts of this happening and see what details might have been left out of Luke's version.

Ah there it was in Mark's: When they woke Him up, they said to Him, "Master, don't you care that we're perishing?" Then He calmed the storm and said to them, "Why are ye so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?"

Ah. Those words: "Master, don't you care?"

I wonder if THAT was the faithlessness that Jesus was rebuking, even more than their fear of the storm. Because that was the ROOT of their fear of the storm. They wondered if He cared about their situation. They thought He was neglectful. They did not trust Him to care for them because He was letting them ride out a storm. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the root of all fear is faithlessness, and the root of all faithlessness is choosing to believe the lie that Jesus does not care about the specific situation I find myself in.

"Master, I'm lonely. Don't You care?"

"Master, the doctor just gave me the bad news. Don't You care?"

"Master, my loved one is breaking my heart. Don't You care?"

"Master, I keep on struggling with the same sin over and over. Don't You care?"

"Master, I'm still single. Don't You care?"

"Master, that person hurt me. Don't You care?"

"Master, I'm sick of goodbyes. Don't You care?"

"Master, my dreams aren't coming true. Don't You care?"

"Master, she's going to hell. Don't You care?"

"Master, I feel so far from You. Don't You care?"

"Master, I feel unfulfilled in my job/marriage/life... Don't You care?"

If you are riding out a storm, meditate on this truth today: Yes, HE CARES. He knows, and He cares. Do not sin by a faithless acceptance of the lie, "Your Master does not care."

Silence doesn't mean neglect.

Delay doesn't mean mean unconcern.

Loneliness doesn't mean abandonment.

Read Psalm 139 and choose to believe that He is in the boat with you, aware of the storm, and He cares. In choosing to believe that, choose to rejoice, oh ye of little faith!

A Special Mother's Day

2011-05-10T10:50:00.005-04:00

Normally it would be the daughter's responsibility to travel home for Mother's Day, I suppose, but we reversed it this year and Mom flew out to be with me for five wonderful days last week! We loved our time together. :) We shopped, enjoyed an Indian lunch, walked along the coast, sipped tea and munched streusel with Elisabeth at a little shop in Rockport, and played lots of Scrabble...chatting and chatting the whole time. I'm certainly a blessed to have the mom I have... VERY blessed.

This was our Mother's Day dinner.

I tried to convince her to go for MacDonald's but noooo, she had to have Massachusetts lobstah!

This is said lobster, post-pot.

A beautiful little rainbow! Mom so loves the sea that it is fun to have her out here.

She delights in each little changing mood of the sky and surf.

The midget ladies

Mother's Day Scrabble game! (Hmmm is this the beginning of a tradition?) I made her some tiramisu and we had tea in a nearby park while she creamed me in Scrabble. She's nearly impossible to beat.

I snapped this shot while she was talking with Nate, who called her from Alaska to wish her Happy Mother's Day. What a sweet smile!

This isn't a Mother's Day picture but it's a special one to me. Mom snapped Elisabeth and I a few days ago. :)

The Spring of the Soul

2011-05-03T08:47:00.003-04:00

"My Father,

All that has gone cold and lifeless in me...

Is it just Your planned stillness before new life flows?

Are the hands I've clenched in troubled prayer,

Like tight leaf-buds,

About to spread into open-handed praise,

Because Your Spirit comes again?

I believe, Father, that the joy of a new season in You

Is warming me right now..."

-David Hazard

2011-04-27T22:48:00.014-04:00

In the past several weeks, I have wreaked havoc upon this unsuspecting, formerly peaceful household. I have broken to smithereens:

Not one but TWOglasses,

A pottery plate,

Not one but TWO (TWO!) honey jars,

An unopened jar of minced garlic

And something else, I vaguely recall, but I can't remember what it was now. Might have been the spoon I put through the garbage disposal last night but was able to bend back into some semblance of what it had been.

It's beginning to cross the line from embarrassment to incredulousity (which I don't think is a word... but why not just break the rules of the English language while I'm breaking everything else my hand touches?).

My responses have varied, through the mayhem, from trying to hide the shards in the garbage can (didn't work...he smelled the garlic)

...To cringing as the piece slips from my fingers and smashes on the floor,

...To being really, really shocked (Will someone please save the world from me before I destroy it!?)

...To being vastly annoyed,

...To praying that God would put the pieces back together (Yes, I did. I heard a story where that happened once but it didn't work for me. Go figure!)

...To resignation. This must just be my life right now.

Breaking things.

Soooo humbling. There's nothing that brings you to a point of abject humility quite like a phase of breaking other peoples possessions.

Please pray it passes quickly and in the meantime I think I will go buy some bubble wrap and enshroud all valuables in it.

Oh and poor Mr. Gren. He's handling it like a trooper... other than a few wry remarks about how I have "broken" the record and have actually destroyed more things than he and Miss Elisabeth combined, the past 33 years.

2011-04-24T22:13:00.004-04:00

This morning I celebrated the Resurrection in an Anglican church. It was different from any Easter service I have ever attended. The most majestic by far, I should say. For me it felt impersonal and a bit foreign, in some ways... but glorious, still. As if it would feel if I were worshipping in Westminster Abby, only on a (waaaaaaay) smaller scale. As the music played and hands were lifted in "hallelujah" to our Victorious Savior, tears came and I felt that indeed, He ought to be worshipped by skillful musicians! (Psalm 33:3) Though His heart is just as blessed by a heartfelt worshipper on a twangy guitar and an off-tune voice (amazing! And reassuring! Aren't you glad He doesn't judgmentally rate or"score" our worship!?), still it felt right to hear the grand sounds and majestic, triumphant strains of trumpet and organ praising Him. And I had to snatch a few tidbits of the music with my iPhone!

The vicar read the following poem. These types of poetry normally aren't my style (too high-fallutin' and mystical) but for some reason this one, I liked. I appreciated envisioning Christ's resurrection as an actual happening. Not just a flash of light and a bang and suddenly He's on His feet outside the tomb...but a flesh-and-blood rekindling of His cells and re-warming of His blood and the first beat of His heart. Why? Because this revolutionary truth has arrested me this Easter-- that in rising from the dead, He not only proved His power in the Spirit realm, but He proved it in the physical realm. He proved that He is Lord over my body and not just Lord over my soul. He gained the right to claim victory over my flesh and not just my spirit. He is the God of the LIVING and not the God of the DEAD! Praise King Jesus!!!

SEVEN STANZAS OF EASTER

By John Updike

Make no mistake: if He rose at all

it was as His body;

if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the molecules

reknit, the amino acids rekindle,

the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,

each soft Spring recurrent;

it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled

eyes of the eleven apostles;

it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,

the same valved heart

that — pierced — died, withered, paused, and then

regathered out of enduring Might

new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,

analogy, sidestepping transcendence;

making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the

faded credulity of earlier ages:

let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,

not a stone in a story,

but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow

grinding of time will eclipse for each of us

the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,

make it a real angel,

weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,

opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen

spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,

for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,

lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are

embarrassed by the miracle,

and crushed by remonstrance.

Note: Am I just ignorant? Do most people know what "Max Planck's Quanta" is? I thought it was some Latin phrase when the vicar read it. Had no clue. So I Googled it.

And then I felt stupid.

Anyhow.

Here's a short clip from this morning's service.

The Robe

2011-04-20T22:08:00.009-04:00

I finished watching this film a few minutes ago. Sounds like a cliche, but as with each time I watch it, I've again been deeply moved and inspired by the story. There's a lot to take away from it; a lot to think about after watching it. It's one of the few that I don't get tired of watching...A fantastic, epic classic which is perfect to watch over Easter week. Fiction, of course, but it gives a powerful portrayal of the impact that Christ's death and resurrection had on those fortunate enough to be in direct contact with Him.

To watch it on YouTube, click here (it's pretty good quality, if you don't mind having so switch to a new part ever 10-15 minutes!) I'm sure you could rent it if you'd rather.

Our Song...

2011-04-13T14:58:00.008-04:00

NOTE:

Just spoke with Carlee and got the word that her blood work has come back clear! Thanks for prayers. :)

Today is a rainy, dreary afternoon.

Isn't it strange, how the whether affects your mood?

I was looking for an encouraging song on my iTunes account and came across this one. It's kind of a paraphrase of Psalm 3 that I wrote for my sister Carlee when she was battling breast cancer.

I can't really take credit for the thoughts expressed in the song--thanks to King David-- so I don't suppose it's I'll-mannered for me to say that it's made my heart feel somewhat restful again today. Outside the window, a brooding sky hovers over a gray, tempestuous ocean. And yet:

You, LORD, are a shield around me,

my glory, the One who lifts my head high.

^{I call out to the LORD,}

and he answers me from His holy mountain.

Carlee goes in for a 6-month check up tomorrow, and I'm sure would be grateful for your prayers. Those days when we sat and cried through this song seem far away; but somehow, not far enough away.

I love you, sis. :)

Wow!

2011-04-10T16:28:00.005-04:00

I just had to put this video on here because I'm smiling ear-to-ear and just marveling at God's goodness! Jeff's a guy I've done a little ministry with as our churches have partnered together at different times, and I've always been so amazed by his passion for God and for evangelism. He has deeply challenged my life in that regards.

Fast forward to today, when I've been kinda' thinking and praying. recently an acquaintance of mine hinted to me that my sights are set too high; that I'll never find a man with the passion for God and for His glory like I'm looking for. Another friend told me point blank that he's not completely sure there are men of the calibre I'm looking for left. In essence, it's been hinted to me, I should just settle for less. ...And then I found this video.

...May a vent for a moment?

No way. Not going to happen. This video re-focused my heart and made it all crystal clear again. My sights are NOT set to high. I am NOT being a perfectionist. Whether he's out there or not, I refuse to give in and date OR marry anyone other than a CRISIS MAN. What is a crisis man, you may ask?

He may not be handsome.

He may not be rich.

He may not be incredibly talented.

He may not have a college degree.

He may not have a killer personality.

But his heart will echo Jim Elliot's, who said this:

"Father, make of me a crisis man.

Bring those I contact to decision.

Let me not be a milepost on a single road;

make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another

on facing Christ in me."

In the following video you will see a couple who has married for the glory of GOD... not merely for their own happiness. In fact, they would have been willing to walk out of the relationship at any time if God had not made it crystal clear to them that they could serve Him best together. What a glorious reason to marry. :) (The reason, in my book!)

So, friends, family, and nosey strangers on the street who expect me to divulge the secrets of my love life to you; I will answer the question once and for all of why I am not married, and you can tuck it in your pocket and remember it:

When a crisis man finds me, one with whom I can glorify God better than if I was alone, I will fall madly in love and marry him. If I am neither madly in love nor married, you can assume that neither of these things have happened and I'm still waiting. (Oh and did I mention that 20 year vow of celibacy I made?*)

*Just kiddin'.

I don't know... maybe there aren't many men like that left; "crisis men." Men who want to study the Word with their wives and lead them in spiritual work. Men who have a vision to raise a family for the glory of God, and impact a generation with the knowledge of the saving power of Christ. Men who want to expend their lives doing hard things that MATTER instead of building a career and living comfortable, useless lives. Men who value purity above beauty and passion above personality. But let me add that if I never marry, it will not be a tragedy. Because "waiting" for me does not mean sitting idly twiddling my thumbs until a man comes throwing rocks at my window. It means enjoying my awesome God and serving Him and His children with all the passion He gives me!

Enjoy this video. It made me squeal a little bit and as RuthAnn and my family knows, normally only really romantic movies do that to me. Lol!

Two Quotes.

2011-03-31T22:20:00.006-04:00

"The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and He delighteth in His way."

-Psalm 37:23

“Goodnight, my friends!” said Galadriel. “Sleep in peace! Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them."

-J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord Of The Rings

Just a fewwwww more...

2011-03-28T13:17:00.007-04:00

When there are five creatures of such utter cuteness to post pictures of, it's hard to stop.

So I thought Grandparents (and Uncle T.!) might enjoy just a couple more photos of the family before I leave off blogging about Alaska.

Watching a movie with Carlee

Shaina gearing up to play outside

Shaina and Aunt Oksana having a heart-to-heart. I overheard one of the questions Shaina asked in this discussion: "But....how will I KNOW when I meet the boy I should marry?" Give it some time honeychild!

Katie-bug

Two moose that the family saw while out driving! Nate and I were snow machining so we didn't come along on this drive but we were so glad Scott and Oksana got to see some wildlife.

Noah snapped this picture. Caleb's priceless! He loves this game.

Dad Hobbs taking his crew for a ride! Carlee's in the sled with the 5 Hobbits.

This sled is useful for transporting moose or musk ox after a hunt, but the kids like this use much better. :)

All of us, right before Scott and Oksana left (tears galore!)

The morning I left, breakfast at the cafe' with Carlee... So fun!

*sigh!*

Until next time, Nome....

More Iditarod Shots

2011-03-25T11:33:00.015-04:00

Hans Gatt, 3rd. place, mushes on the frozen Bering Sea outside of Nome

Well, I've left beautiful Alaska and its beautiful people and am back in Boston. But I'm not done bloggin' about the North! My mind is so occupied with the dear ones I've left behind and the awesome experiences God gave us. I'm so grateful.

I know, I know: most likely, few of my readers are fascinated by the Iditarod like I am, but I'm going to post some more pictures anyhow. Just 'cuz I can. :) It's an incredible sport; a truly great race. If you aren't "into it" I hope I can pique your interest a bit. It doesn't get near the publicity or funding it should, in my humble opinion. So hopefully you'll think this is a "fun" post...I had fun putting it together. :)

John Baker, 1st place

DeeDee Jonrow (12th place), surounded by fans, reporters, and dogs after her race

4-time champ Martin Buser (18th place) is congratulated by 2011 champ John Baker and Iditarod Veteran Michael Williams Sr.

I loved congratulating the exhausted four-legged athletes at the finish line; they were so sweet! Can't remember whose dog this was- either Ken Anderson's (9th place) or Jesse Royer's (10th place). Royer lost to Anderson by a matter of seconds and their run down Front St. to the Burled Arch finish line was pretty intense run to watch. The dogs were so tired.

Ramey Smyth, 2nd place, enters the chute leading his dogs as an Alaskan native holds his Eskimo drum in the sunlight.

Hans Gatt, 3rd. place, nears the Burled Arch on Front St. It's pretty cool to watch the dogs running down Front St. and imagine what's going through the musher's minds as they near the end of the race. (Check out Hans' face!) Sometimes the dogs are so happy to see people that they get distracted and run to bystanders. :)

Lance Mackey, 4-time champion. Such a nice guy, and he's got an incredible life story too; Google him some time. He signed my shirt and we talked twice. Twice. They were very-teeny-conversations, granted, but they were conversations nevertheless. I daresay I'll remember them much longer than he will. Heh!

Nate's soooo sweet! What on earth is a girl to do with a brother like him?? He paid for my ticket to the Musher's Banquet with him and Carlee. All-you-can-eat king crab was on the menu along with the traditional strawberries (a big deal in the middle of winter, for Nome!) and other delicious food. It was so great. Most of the evening was spent watching the various awards being given to the mushers and hearing each one say a few words (often including a funny or interesting anecdote from the trail). We got to speak with a few mushers too, which was fun. :)

At the banquet: Sabastian Schnuel, 6th place. There just aren't words to describe The Hair.

Sabastian again- because The Hair deserves another view.

John Baker is handed an honorary key to the truck he won and awarded the winning check for $50,400.00. Which really isn't that much, when you consider the cost for the mushers and the amount Kentucky Derby winners get paid for running 1 and 1/4 miles. ($1.5 million!? Good grief!) That's another reason I love the Iditarod- it is certainly NOT an elitist sport.

There are a lot of random prizes along the trail. The prize for the first musher to arrive at the check point of Anvik is a seven-course meal (quite a treat on the 1,000 mile wilderness trail!) and an "after dinner mint." At the banquet, Hugh Neff (5th place) was presented with the "after dinner mint" in a gold pan--$3500.00 in bills!

Here's a snippet of Martin Buser, sharing a trail story at the banquet.

Perhaps I hadn't mentioned it, but he's my favorite musher.

(Please note that my name has been cleared regarding alleged stalker charges at the finish line... YES! Check out Nora's comment on my Buser post! A true friend)

I love being Aunt Dani!

2011-03-24T15:01:00.008-04:00

A warm little body after bath time...is there anything more wonderful in all the world?

Wes has learned the art of silly faces. And he is impressed with his skills.

After looking at this picture he sat back and belly laughed and laughed!

The girlies in pajamas :)

Mr. Noah is our active guy! (This hill was extremely steep...you can't tell in the photo.)

Kate found my toe socks and thought they'd make cute gloves....

The shirt says it all. :)

Meet Martin Buser (I did!)

2011-03-19T21:43:00.008-04:00

This is Martin Buser. He is my favorite musher. Ever.

This is me, at the finish line, scooting as close as I could to Martin Buser!

(Contrary to what my oldest brother says, this was not creepy stalker activity. It was "I'm-your-biggest fan"-behavior.)

This is me, with Martin Buser, after he signed my Nome T-shirt.

I have reached the apex of Iditarod Happiness.

This race is truly incredible and the men and dogs who run it are unbelievable athletes. I admire them so much because it takes such incredible skill, dedication, and sacrifice to run the Iditarod. I think the reason I love Martin Buser so much is because he is not just an amazing athlete, but also a man who greatly loves and enjoys the dogs, the sport, his family, and his fans.

2011-03-17T19:04:00.012-04:00

NOME!

I love it here.

So much--and yet so little-- seems to have changed since I was here last time and Carlee was battling cancer. Wow, it's good to be back, and under happy circumstances.

My two brothers, sister, and I haven't all been together in about 7 years because we live really far apart. So the siblings are together for the first time in SO LONG and we are having the time of our lives!!! It's been amazing being able to show Scott and Oksana around Nome. :)

I'll post a whole ton of pictures here in the next few weeks, probably, because I can't decide which I like the most; particularly Iditarod shots! Here are a few pictures of us together.

Us FOUR! (Was going to title this one "Together at Last at the End of the Race" but that rather sounds like an obituary.) :)

Scott, Oksy, Nate and I: lunch at the Polar Cafe

Noah, Shaina, Kate, Wes, and Caleb... with a friend. (I am one blessed Auntie!)

Gearing up for a snow machine/sled ride out of town

Scott lookin' like a tourist, taking a video from the frozen Bering Sea

A snow sculpting contest! My friends and I didn't win but we had a blast building our "Orca Chasing Seal." And it was cool, let me tell you! From L-R: Me, Jess, Nora, and Eric

Uncle Nate indocrinating Caleb with an aviation magazine (Caleb absolutely ADORES his uncle.)

Mama with 'Lub

2011-03-15T17:37:00.008-04:00

CONGRATULATIONS to

JOHN BAKER

WINNER OF THE 2011 IDITAROD!

....And record holder for fastest time to Nome:
8 days, 19 hours, 46 minutes, 39 seconds.

Untitled from Kyle Hopkins on Vimeo.

Last Night...

2011-03-11T03:02:00.004-05:00

The Lights appear more vividly in the photographs than they did to the naked eye... but still, completely breathtaking.

Oh, the wonder of standing beneath His dancing lights and applauding Him!

"The heavens declare the glory of God,

and the sky above proclaims His handiwork!"

-Ps. 19:1

Guess where I am...?

2011-03-10T01:12:00.003-05:00

(And with this wonderful guy!)

Weeping...

2011-03-04T22:44:00.001-05:00

Lessons from Peruvians

2011-03-01T11:31:00.013-05:00

On Sunday afternoon we bid a melancholy farewell to the Elliots, and found ourselves back en route to Los Estados Unidos; Home sweet home.

*sigh!*

It's always sad to leave new friends and new places that you feel as if you've just begun to know and love!

Each time I travel to a new place, I try to pray that the Lord will teach me something from

the people or places I go. This time I think the lesson He wanted me to learn was on servanthood. A lesson from Sylvia, Isabel, and Rafael (among other beautiful people I met but did not know as well).

Rafael comes nearly every day to assist Mr. Elliot--who is somewhat slow and unsteady on his feet-- with a walk. It's not because he has nothing else to do or because he's the spryest man in the church himself. A handsome fellow who bears a constant smile and moves with alacrity to help anywhere he feels he might be needed, he reminded me (in a positive way) of a volleyball player who constantly runs to hit the ball even though it's outside his space! Except Rafael is not hitting volleyballs.. he's jumping off his chair to grab a cup of coffee for someone (even though someone else might be closer to the coffee pot) or cheerily moving to grab Mr. Elliot's cane for him before it's even asked for. I looked forward to seeing Rafael every morning, hearing his bright "Buenos Dias, Daniella!" and receiving his peck on the cheek. :) I was challenged deeply by the joy with which he served the Elliots and the eagerness to lighten the load.

You met Sylvia in an earlier post, but this gal continued to amaze me! After observing her for a few days, I figured that she must have made a deal with the Elliots: she'd live at their house for a few months of furlough in exchange for cooking, cleaning, and serving them their meals--being around to help them in general. She was always the first one to leave the table and begin washing dishes... she came in each afternoon to the living room to ask what she could make us for dinner... in general, she acted more like the household help than a young woman on vacation. Last week I asked Mrs. Elliot about it. "Did Sylvia agree to work around the house for you so she could live with you while on furlough?" Mrs. Elliot laughed. "Oh, no... that's just Sylvia. I keep telling her that she's on vacation and she needs to take it easy, but she says she loves to help and she insists on cooking and cleaning for us."

I don't have all the statistics on the Elliots; exactly how many years they've been there, how many churches they've planted, how many souls won for the Kingdom, how many lives saved in primitive jungle areas through their medical work. Even if I did have all those facts, I don't think they'd be particularly thrilled with my listing them here. A few times when I began to try to express about how amazed I was by their work, how honored to meet them, etc. etc., I sensed them beginning to grow uncomfortable. they didn't need or want to be reminded of their missionary accomplishments; they were just being faithful. One afternoon as we were singing around the piano, I asked Mrs. Elliot what her favorite hymn is. Without hesitation she said "To God Be The Glory; 'My Tribute'. I want that song sung at my funeral. Oh, I know they're all gonna want to talk about how many churches we planted and this and that... but I don't want all that. I just want them to remember, through my life, To GOD Be The Glory."

Nearly every morning the bell at the front gate would ring and we'd say "There's Isabel!" I wasn't always sure why she popped in, but she normally ended up bustling about sweeping the porch, cleaning off the breakfast table, or running a few shopping errands for the Elliots before she left. Most afternoons the gate-bell would ring again, and in she'd come armed with lotions and oils. She kneels down and gently massages the tired, aged feet and legs of Mr. and Mrs. Elliot, chattering and grinning while she works. This was not something she was asked to do. She just does it because she loves them and wants to serve them. "We aren't the only ones Isabel serves like this," Mrs. Elliot told me one afternoon. "She's forever trotting off to other folks' houses, doing things for them and helping them out. It's just because she loves to serve." Twice a week she rises early so she can cook her own family's meal (she has several grown children still at home), and then heads off via bus and taxi to the prison outside of town. There she teaches a few young women who are interested in the Bible and sits with them unhurriedly for the majority of the afternoon, chatting, exhorting, being a friend to the lonely girls. Serving and loving others is her life. "Oh Isabel," I said last Thursday as we left the prison gates and trudged the dusty path back to the main road, "You have such a good heart." She looked at me, puzzled, since she doesn't speak English, and I patted my chest, pointed to her and said in my broken Spanish, "Su corazon es bueno..."

She understood, smiled softly, and pointing to heaven said, "Gracias, Dios."

A few more snapshots

2011-03-01T07:30:00.001-05:00

Can't resist posting a few more Peru pictures that I hope some friends and family might enjoy. :)

A view of morning worship at Centro Biblico, the Elliot's church in Trujillo.

Pablo is a head elder of the church. He married an American girl, Sarah, and they have 4 beautiful daughters. He's been one of the main assistants to the Elliots, and his children call them "Abueito", Grandparents. Here he is with his oldest daughter on his birthday (When Mrs. Elliot delivered him, a little jungle baby, little did she know that he would become their partner in ministry!)

This is the Elliot's pet. A rather large jungle tortoise. He is very cute and lazy, and he lives in their back yard.

Trujillo seems to be surrounded by mountains on three sides and the water on the other side. Beautiful country.

Isn't this tiny guy so adorable? I nearly stepped on him in the kitchen!

A meal at Mrs. Elliot's favorite restaurant in Huanchaco. Here I ate Ceviche... which, if you don't think to hard about what it is (raw fish cooked only by being soaked in lemon juice), tastes fantastic!

People pass the house from morning until evening, hawking their wares through a loudspeaker system attached to their rickety bicycle-cart.

Our last view of the Elliots and Sylvia, bidding us farewell from their doorway.

2011-02-24T23:19:00.011-05:00

HATE

cockroaches!

A Few Snapshots

2011-02-21T18:35:00.006-05:00

I've decided I'm far too wordy and it's surely tedious to read my frequent ramblings! So instead, (and better,) here are a few pictures with concise synopsis. :)

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Elliot

The gorgeous Plaza, downtown Trujillo.

Wish I could have taken a 360 degree photo to share the full scope of it with you!

Two gringos, people-watching in the Plaza :)

Mountains in the distance

Mrs. Elliot plays beautifully and we sing together from the hymnal most afternoons

A "fancy" dinner downtown

Mr. Gren reading to the gang (a rare moment when all are awake!)

I'm free!

2011-02-18T11:29:00.010-05:00

Went to a women's prison yesterday with Isobella, a friend of the Elliots who has a ministry there. She speaks no (and I do quite literally mean "NO") English so it made for a hilarious time... each trying to figure out what the other was saying. She wasn't content to just ride quietly along beside me in the taxi--no, we must try to communicate. :) I was glad. It was fun.

The prison was a precious experience. It would take an age to tell all about it so some day, when you and I are in a personal conversation, ask me about Elena from the prison. I'll tell you a victorious, poignant story about the severe mercy of God to a beautiful young woman. She is a paradox: her body is imprisoned, but her heart soars freely in the heavens. Sometimes, though, because of the physical bars that surround her and the dark inmates she's in contact with constantly, she forgets her spiritual freedom and sits like a little bird on the floor of its cage, unaware that the door has been opened and her heart is free to fly. This is why I praise God for Isobella and those like her who are teaching young Christians in the prison! Jesus will use this teaching (and our prayers) to continue drawing Elena into a fuller, deeper, more joy-filled life.

Walking outside of the prison, I saw the dirt street filled with women and children, men old and young- some hawking their wares and some sitting idly, eying me curiously. These men we call "free." But I wondered if they are free. I wondered, if I could see for a moment with the eyes God sees men with, which ones would be walking with heavy shackles chaining their heart to the dark pit below.

For this blog wallpaper I chose the bird, liberated from her cage, because it is a perfect picture of what Jesus has done for me. He has set me FREE from the dungeon of sin and shame and guilt... the cage of condemnation...the shackles of the devil I served...the meaningless existence of a prisoner! Thanks, thanks to my Savior, Jesus!

Friend, are you free?

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,

Fast bound in sin and nature’s night;

Thine eye diffused a quickening ray—

I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

The trip was a great blessing. It was my first time in prison but I trust it will not be my last.

(Oh, hush!)

An afternoon on the beach in Huanchaco

2011-02-16T22:37:00.016-05:00

Trujillo* is beautiful. Flowers, fountains, and--even amidst the grunge aspects of it--brightly painted houses or decorative wrought iron fences add a bit of flare. The latino people charm me with that flare and love of color.

Miss Elisabeth and I take a daily walk around a few blocks near the house, but I've been longing to see more of the city. It was a prayer of mine, in fact; one of the silly, superficial prayers that if God weren't God He'd roll His eyes at:

Lord, I know I'm going to Peru to serve Lars and Elisabeth,

and that in itself is just amazing but....

would You work it out for me to see a few things and get out a little, too..?

...If not, that's ok....

Enter Sylvia!

She's from Argentina and has been working for the past 5 or so years as a missionary among the Chichua Indians in the mountains of Peru. Thank God, she just so happened to be taking a vacation in Trujillo, at the Elliot's home, during the time the Grens and I are here.

("Just so happened!" Heh!)

No, I don't have the audacity to presume that God brought her all the way from the Chichuas just so I'd have a girlfriend to play with, but I do know that God in some mysterious way can simultaneously direct big events in a person's life (Such as when and where Sylvia should take her furlough) with the miniscule, insignificant ones (my prayer). I've thought about that often and it's one of the things that amazes me about Him. How does He fit those tiny details into the big scheme of things!?

There's a bit of a language barrier, what with me knowing next-to-nothing of Spanish (in my dreams I'd like to fancy that I'll be "conversational" by the end of this trip--never mind it'd be comparable to having a conversation with a two old neanderthal--). We still have a wonderful time together and the fellowship is sweet. I long to talk with her more deeply but it's hard to do. We promised each other we'd study the languages further and be able to have a decent conversation next time, sans puzzled facial expressions and frantic gesticulations!

Anyhow. All that to say, we went to Manhuaca today. Took a bus and a taxi the 20 minutes or so and ended up rounding a corner to see perhaps the most beautiful surf I've ever encountered. Huge waves. It's hard to describe how the intense haze of the day, the wild, thrilling pounding, and the silvery sunlight combined to make it breathtaking. Pictures won't do it justice either. They make it look shabby and dull. It was glorious.

We shopped in the markets, walked the beach and ate some delicious food from a stand.

I forget the name of it but it was fried and so heavenly. (Sylvia had just put the last bite in her mouth and was saying "MMMMMmmmm!" When I took this picture.) :)

Then we lay on a brightly colored scarf in the sand while the sun began to sink and we talked (or tried to) and reveled in God's exquisite sky.

We left long before it began to grow dusk (I promise, worried parents!) and made our way back home.

And now, I feel like I have SEEN Peru. (Well, at least a very little sliver of it.)

So, that was my lovely little day!

*(Pronounced "Trrru-HE-yo")

(I cant find the apostrophe key.)

2011-02-13T17:21:00.006-05:00

Were in Trujillo, Peru!
After a long and scenic bus ride we arrived at the Elliots home yestderday evening. What a precious couple- I love them already! Couldnt keep the moisture out of my eyes as I met Bert Elliot--the brother of Jim and he looks so like him. Jims life has so greatly influenced mine that I am overwhelmed to be meeting the people who he most loved in all the world. I cannot stop thanking God.

Its hard to describe how incredible it feels to be in a different coutry again. It felt this way the first time I was in Europe, then Asia, then Mexico... everything is done so differently. The people are so beautiful, the language so musical, the smells and tastes so new, the architecture so foreign. Theres something about it that sends a thrill of joy through me and causes me to pray that the Father will let me travel for a long time to come, to many more places, spreading His glory in each place I am.

Ive been working on Rosetta Stone Spanish since my time in Mexico with Ashleigh, and during the 9 hour bus ride was incredulous to realize that I could actually pick out the meaning of some signs and conversations. This learning a new language is an amazing experience--a challening one. It feels as if a key to unlock the mysteries of a different culture has been placed in my hands, and I have but to fit it in the keyhole and push the door wide open. Its a delightful mystery. I love it.

And now its time to stop raving and head out to keep company with the four dear old folks in the livingroom.

(Lars is reading a book aloud, and as I sat languidly enduring the story and gazing around the room it occured to me that as he read quite energetically, he was unconsciously serenading the slumbers of the other three. A pen-and-ink portrait of Jim Elliot hangs on the wall and his eyes were pointed directly at the sofa upon which Lars reads. His particularly scrutinizing gaze made me wonder if Lars has that unconscious feeling of being watched at times...?)

Now here I sit in the computer room, and the reading has silenced and been replaced by the sound of a rather loud snore from one of the four sleeping beauties.

Yes, folks, this trip to Peru will be high energy.

I hope I can keep up with them.

A Tale of Two Brothers

2011-02-08T08:40:00.009-05:00

Many years ago in the early-to-mid 1900's, there were two brothers. Both had dreams... and they talked about them together as they'd work side by side making money by doing odd jobs around town in Portland, Oregon. The youngest was dynamic and energetic, vibrant and noticeable. The older was quieter, but with a joyful spirit... a ready smile...and--perhaps what some didn't realize--the same fire burning within. The younger brother would speak of the passion he had for missionary work; for the ache he had to be on the field, preaching the Gospel, working for Christ. The older would smile and nod, affirming his little brother and together they would pray that God would send them both, for the older wanted to preach the Gospel in far away lands, too.

One day, the older brother prayed a prayer which he knew could cost him greatly. He told the Lord that if his staying in America could somehow make his little brother successful on the mission field, he would do so. He would raise support. He would hold the ropes so his brother could go.

As God's will saw fit, both brothers ended up on the field. The younger, Jim, burned his light brightly until he was killed only a few years after he stepped foot in Ecuador. The older, Bert, broken-hearted but faithful, continued to work in the steamy jungles of Peru planting churches and schools, counseling and discipling. He and his wife is there to this day; nearly 90 years old, with no plans to return to America for Peru has become their home.

For more on this story, watch this short video clip about Bert Elliot. It will, perhaps, change your life.

Praise God, on Friday Elisabeth, Lars and I will travel to Peru for two weeks with the Elliots! I can't wait to meet these amazing people.

I don't believe I will ever be a Jim Elliot with the story that will change the life of thousands of men and women across the globe. No... but perhaps, by God's grace, I can be a Bert.

And that is my prayer for you, friend. You who are taking the time to read my stutterings here. :)

Oswald Chambers- "Are You Ready to be Offered?"

2011-02-06T09:12:00.001-05:00

"I am already being poured out as a drink offering." 2 Timothy 4:6

"I am ready to be offered." It is a transaction of will, not of sentiment. Tell God you are ready to be offered; then let the consequences be what they may, there is no strand of complaint now, no matter what God chooses. God puts you through the crisis in private, no one person can help an other. Externally the life may be the same; the difference is in will. Go through the crisis in will, then when it comes externally there will be no thought of the cost. If you do not transact in will with God along this line, you will end in awakening sympathy for yourself.

"Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the altar." The altar means fire - burning and purification and insulation for one purpose only, the destruction of every affinity that God has not started and of every attachment that is not an attachment in God. You do not destroy it, God does; you bind the sacrifice to the horns of the altar; and see that you do not give way to self-pity when the fire begins. After this way of fire, there is nothing that oppresses or depresses. When the crisis arises, you realize that things cannot touch you as they used to do. What is your way of fire?

Tell God you are ready to be offered, and God will prove Himself to be all you ever dreamed He would be.

"Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all." Philippians 2:17

Are you willing to be offered for the work of the faithful - to pour out your life blood as a libation on the sacrifice of the faith of others? Or do you say - "I am not going to be offered up just yet, I do not want God to choose my work. I want to choose the scenery of my own sacrifice; I want to have the right kind of people watching and saying, 'Well done.'

It is one thing to go on the lonely way with dignified heroism, but quite another thing if the line mapped out for you by God means being a door-mat under other people's feet. Suppose God wants to teach you to say, "I know how to be abased" - are you ready to be offered up like that? Are you ready to be not so much as a drop in a bucket - to be so hopelessly insignificant that you are never thought of again in connection with the life you served? Are you willing to spend and be spent; not seeking to be ministered unto, but to minister? Some saints cannot do menial work and remain saints because it is beneath their dignity.

The Cry of My Heart

2011-02-04T22:02:00.005-05:00

I've been singing this song to the Father recently.

It echoes the deepest whispers of my heart; somehow almost puts words to the longing inside of me that can't quite be vocalized.

Just the time I feel

that I've been caught

in the mire of self-

Just the time I feel

my mind's been bought

by worldly wealth-

That's when the breeze begins

to blow I know,

the Spirit's Call...

And all my worldly wanderings

just melt into His Love.

Oh, I want to know You more!

Deep within my soul I want to know You,

Oh, I want to know You.

To feel Your Heart and know Your Mind,

looking in Your eyes stirs up within me,

cries that says I want to know You

Oh, I want to know You more.

When my daily deeds

ordinarily lose life and song,

my heart begins to bleed,

sensitivity to Him is gone.

I've run the race but set my own pace

and face a shattered soul,

But the gentle Arms of Jesus

warm my hunger to be whole.

Oh, I want to know You more!

Deep within my soul I want to know You,

Oh, I want to know You.

And I would give my final breath

to know You in Your Death and Resurrection,

Oh, I want to know You more.

Confession

2011-01-29T21:18:00.012-05:00

I told Him I'd meet Him early this morning.

Really early.

I used to do it nearly every day, but it's something I have to fight (discipline myself) to do. Of late my habit had slipped and I'd left Him waiting there alone, while I pressed snooze again and again and then jumped out of bed with barely enough time to shower and prepare myself for the day. "Promise.... I'll meet with you this afternoon..."

...But afternoon slips into evening and there's always something to do. Something to take up my time. Things that are so trivial can seem so urgent (putting on makeup before stepping out of the house, eating a meal, shooting off an email) while the truly urgent things are treated trivially. It's because they're the invisible realities--the things that can't be touched or seen are the things that we need more desperately than air, or food, or water.

It isn't that I'd ignored Him completely. He's a part of every moment of my day, in a way. I breathe my thoughts to Him almost as naturally as talking to myself. I try to invite Him into every moment, every emotion, every decision. But the quality time just hasn't been there. The purposeful times of setting everything else aside to gaze in His eyes and give Him my undivided devotion. He deserves so much more than the crumbs left over from my day; than the sleepy moments before my eyes drift shut and my tired mind fades to sleep!!

Last night, we had a talk. He laid it out for me pretty clearly. I had typed some words to a friend that made me sound so close to God, like I had it pretty much together. But He had been reading over my shoulder, apparently, and was not impressed by my piety.

"What was that, Dani?"

"Hm?"

"Those words... they sounded so right. They made you sound so completely devoted to Me. But words are cheap and your heart has been distracted."

My heart burned with shame. He was right and I knew it. A marriage wouldn't last all that long if I were to treat my husband this way. Why would I think my relationship with God could work without 100% of my effort? All at once my heart ached to be held by Him again, to be alone in our secret place together in the quiet moments of the morning like I had been in the habit of doing for so long. But the shame also made me want to pull away; to do some kind of penance before I tried to draw near to Him again. Isn't that how it always works? The enemy's subtle ploy to keep us from Him: guilt.

"No, Danielle. Don't do that either. I forgive you. I wouldn't be drawing you back if I didn't want you back. I want your heart and your devotion more than anything and I'm not going to put you on a guilt trip or hold you at arm's length until you're 'sorry enough'. Just come to me. I'll meet you there."

I did, and He did. I fell asleep with a light heart, with my alarm set and the snooze button looking for another place of employment. I had a date for the morning and I was NOT going to miss it!

...And then the alarm goes off (it's a "piano riff").

So annoying. Doesn't matter if it's crickets chirping, a duck quacking, a motorcycle revving, or harp music: I've tried nearly every sound on my iPod alarm and they all annoy me pretty equally in the morning.

So I scowl at it, groan....and sit swaying on the edge of my bed with my eyes at half mast, like a big dope who can't even think straight, let alone come into the presence of the King of the Universe in a few minutes. Not feeling all that excited anymore. This is gonna take shear willpower.

So I put one foot in front of the other.

I wash my face with fa-reeeeezing cold water.

I tip-toe downstairs and build a fire in the fireplace.

(Sure enough, that dear, faithful Friend was waiting there for me.)

So I sat with Him and wrote in my journal,

"Rose early this morning to meet with my Love. Oh how good it feels to be here, in the quiet semi-dawn , before a warm, crackling fire, communing with my Lord! Why do I fight for sleep when THIS is what awaits me? In Your presence if fullness of joy. Come, Abba, meet with me here. My heart longs for You."

Now, I'm going to sign out and get to bed so I can do it again tomorrow; re-build the habit. But I write this to encourage you, if you've perhaps let your intimacy with the Almighty take back burner, to come back to Him. Rekindling the love in your heart is an act of will, most often; not emotion or feeling. But He understands that and He wants quality time with you so, so much. Join me in intentionally cultivating your relationship with Him, and oh, how we will rejoice His heart.

The Snowy Cove

2011-01-27T12:57:00.014-05:00

Last night I went to bed with great anticipation because I could hear it blowing outside, and the weather guys had all been in a tizzy about the big storm to come. I think this is the most snow I've seen come down in one night. (Outside of Nome.) :)

Rejoicing at the chance to experience this New England coast, draped in white.

“Have you entered the storehouses of the snow

or seen the storehouses of the hail,

which I reserve...?"

-God

(Job 38:22-23)

2011-01-26T11:30:00.014-05:00

The Grens and I are back from two weeks in the Sunny South. Florida was wonderful, and not just because of the palm trees, lizards, and waves. The Lord blessed us with sweet fellowship every place we went... and I found myself so full of gratefulness for that! I already posted my thoughts about the Romanian church we visited, but I wanted to mention the dear couple in Jacksonville who we stayed with. Gloria and Roger's hospitality was overwhelming!
They've loved Elisabeth for a long time; first meeting after Gloria's sister was tragically killed in an accident and Gloria took the care of her two nieces. God led her to Elisabeth, who has written several books on suffering, loneliness, and loss... and Elisabeth's wisdom and talk about the sovereignty of God broke through the haze of depression that Gloria was living in. Since then, Elisabeth and Lars have had a very dear place in Roger and Gloria's heart, and they treated us like royalty while we stayed in their home! Gloria is in my mind, the epitome of a Southern Belle. :) Gracious and soft with the sweet southern twang. We took a beautiful ride around a golf course with Elisabeth one afternoon... until we got kicked off by a cranky golf pro. Oops.

Roger is a pastor, and we enjoyed several deeply meaningful discussions about the Holy Spirit, the fullness of the Christian life, and the reality that God is to the believer; the necessity of practicing the presence of God. To me, these discussions with this caring, wise pastor were like a direct gift from God. I had been asking God questions in my prayers lately about the very topics we discussed... asking Him to teach me things I wasn't understanding and guide me into a fuller relationship with Him. I did not have all my questions answered, and in fact perhaps my appetite for more knowledge about these themes was whetted. But I was blown away by the confirmation that God sees my desires, hears my prayers, and is reaching out for me at the same time that I'm reaching out for Him. There are no coinscidences when God orchestrates your life.

After Jacksonville, the Grens and I moved on to Orlando, staying with a wonderful couple there for a few days. While there I met up with my friend Chelsea. I haven't seen Chelsea in TWO LONG YEARS and wow, what a treat to spend the day with her! She drove an hour and a half each way to be with me which left me pretty incredulous. :) We were on a missions trip together to Asia 4 years ago (Yikes has it really been that long?) And have been dear friends ever since. Not only did we enjoy an awesome Indian lunch-- (have I ever mentioned that I adore Indian food? Almost to the point of freaking out when I see the word "tandoor?") --We talked, talked, and talked some more. We prayed together. We admired each other's hair which had changed since two years ago. All that jazz.
We also hit the mall. Found some funky glasses and took a miriad of pictures with them, making some pretty frightening faces in the process (this is one of the milder shots). It occured to us after a while that the lady behind the register just might be glacing at us askance, so we moved on to other entertainment.

The best was when we walked through the 'old lady' section of the mall and decided to find the frumpiest outfits we could, then try them on and laugh at each other. The dressing room was filled with the sound of our stifled giggles and then outright belly laughs.

I can't believe I'm posting this shot.

Please don't kill me Chels.

Ah, what friends I have! I simply adore people who like to be crazy and random. Chelsea, you are amazing and it was such a delight to spend the day with you. What a blessing it is to have a friend who shares the passion of my heart: Jesus.

And then there are THESE wonderful people! My amazing Great-Aunt Ginny, second cousin Sherry, and um...third(?) cousins Jenny and Becky! The Grens and I happened to be staying very near my family, and so I spent the morning and afternoon with them on Sunday. WOW, I love them! It makes me sad that I only see them once every one or two years because they are just awesome. Dear Aunt Ginny reminds me so much of my Grandma Sobie, her sister, who passed away the day before I turned 16. Her mannerisms, her voice, her sweet caring spirit make me feel like I'm with Grandma again and I love her so much. It was a gift to be with my Florida family.

Can't forget...I promised Mumsie some pictures from my birthday celebration in the everglades. :) Steve Irwin's influence lives on in my life; I adore animals and even reptiles. And alligators are just--just so cool. So prehistoric and daunting.

Yay! I've finally held an alligator! One step closer to actually wrestling one!

(I'll have you know that I fought an awful urge to photo edit the band from around his mouth, because it just isn't quite as cool to hold an alligator, even a baby one, when there's a rubber band holding his jaw closed. But I didn't. Integrity restrained me.) Isn't he absolutely darling!? Never before have I thought an alligator was "cute" but this fellow completely charmed me.

The airboat ride was thrilling. Something about feeling the wind in my face... I LOVE it.

We passed a tree with several vultures in it, and I shouted up at one, "Could you give me a profile shot?" He obligingly turned his head for the camera and got a laugh out of all of us on the boat!

And that, my friends, is the end of my Florida story.
Almost.

You see, a few days before we left, Mr. Gren took a nasty fall down a flight of stairs and landed on me and the dog I was holding. (Cute little white puffy thing which can be seen at the beginning of the post.) Max and I were bruised but fine; Lars not so. He fractured a rib and he is in horrendous pain. Please pray for him. If you think of it, I'd appreciate prayers for strength and patience as I care for both Elisabeth and Lars now. It's a little difficult at times! I know that women are the weaker sex and all that, but seriously: most men are such babies.
...Inflamatory remark, I know. 'Nuff said about that.