schMORGANsborg

You may or may not know that my mom got really sick about a month ago. I’ll spare you the details…mostly because my mom gets on to me when I tell everyone her business:)…but suffice it to say things got pretty scary for a while there. The following is a small selection from a very long list of things I learned through the whole experience.

1. Unlike most people stress doesn’t make me stop eating and sleeping. It actually has the opposite effect on me.  
2. Any delusions I had of independence are…well…delusions. I’ll go ahead and admit that a lot of my thoughts for those two weeks were about how I couldn’t get by without my mom…about how I needed her…for stupid things…like telling me how to get a stain out of a shirt.  
3. The comforts of this life have a far stronger hold on me than I ever realized.  
4. I don’t want to love my Mom-or anything else-more than I love the will of God. That’s a hard one to swallow.
5. Life is truly a vapor.
6. We cling to the strangest things in the face of tragedy.
7. God doesn’t stop being good just because "bad" things happen.
8. Then again, theology has a tendency to fly out the window in the face of death.
9. I’m really glad my bff decided to be a nurse, but even more glad that she can still sit and cry with me when the occasion calls for it.
10. ER, Grey’s Anatomy, General Hospital, etc….they’re all full of crap. Two weeks in the hospital and I saw zero hot doctors. Notta one.

PS my mom is doing much better now:) If you talk to her don’t tell her I told you that was sick:)

I have a confession to make. I used to resent people who went to Africa. It seemed so cliché.  Like there was some unwritten rule that in order to be a good Christian you had to go to Africa…or at least want to go to Africa. Of course this was also when I had no inclination whatsoever towards any kind of mission work anywhere. It’s strange to read that sentence back to myself. I can hardly remember feeling that way now. I can barely recall not having this burning deep inside of me to see the glory of God cover the earth as water covers the seas. 

Mercifully, things have changed. And, so, one month from today I will leave for Africa. I wish I was leaving today. I wish I had a one way ticket and not just a 10 day trip planned (don’t tell my mom that…she might cry).

Next month four others and myself will be heading to Mozambique to work with Sarah in her ministry to street children there. I have a number of emotions and thoughts running through my mind right now, but the one that overshadows all the others is fear. I’m not afraid of being in danger there. Of getting sick or being robbed or attacked or anything along those lines. The thing I fear…is being unchanged. I’m afraid of looking those children in the face and being unaffected by it. Of coming back home and returning to my everyday life as if nothing had happened. I’m afraid of forgetting what I haven’t even learned yet.

So today I’m praying. Praying to be changed…affected…moved. Praying to remember.       

I’ve told yall my story before, but here it is again…in a different way. 

Wandering in the dark
wondering who cared
cowering in the corner
a child scared.

So I put on my mask
played the part
a perfect cheerleader
with a hidden and bleeding heart.

Blind but not knowing
cause I’d never seen
dead but not caring
cause I’d never breathed.

Drink it down
smoke it up
trying
just to be cool enough.

Dating this boy and that boy
on down the line
giving away pieces
of something that wasn’t mine.

Don’t get me wrong
it was all great fun
but at the end of the day
I just wanted life to be done.

And then it was
not for me but for her
and something
inside of me started to stir.

Slowly
but all at once
in an instant
but taking months.  

A light broke through
I could see
first his perfection
then my need.

Compared to him
I was so unclean
what made me think
I could stand before a king?

So I knelt before him
even that not from me
then he did something
interesting.

He stepped down from his throne
put his robe on my back
instantly filling up
everything I lacked.

Amazing grace
that I can’t put into words
something I’d been told
yet never heard.

From that point on
things were different
not easier
but now I was confident. 

I knew what I was here for
knew who’s I was
I knew he loved me
cause his word says he does.

I love to think about that time
so many years ago
and when the darkness tries to sneak back in
this I know

I was chosen
before the foundation of the earth
and neither my works nor my sanity
give me my worth.

The king gives me my worth
the one from back then
and he’ll always be
cause he’s always been. 

Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God…

I praise you, Jesus!  Not only did you take my place and absorb the wrath that was meant for me, but you put your righteousness on me.  There is no greater news…there is no greater gift.  Because you are ALIVE and because your love is better than life my lips will sing of your praises!  

…Saturday was silent.  

They gathered together in an upper room.  Only the muffled sound of weeping could be heard.  It was the sabbath, and so they rested.  If you could call it that.  They were exhausted from despair and jumped at every sound outside the door fearful that the guards would come for them next.  Their minds were racing with questions.  "Why?" "How, O God, was this possible?" "Were they wrong about who they thought He was?"  No, they knew who he was.  They had seen all that he had done.  They begged God for some sort of explanation…but God was silent.  Because He knew something they didn’t know.  

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" And having said this he breathed his last.

I jacked this from Desiring God…who I guess jacked it from Matt Chandler.

The metal shackles around my wrists are cold and painful on my raw skin. I can see the redness they’ve caused after days of being there and I can feel the sweat between the skin on my arm and the hand that leads me down the hall. All I can do is look at the floor as I walk along. I feel the stares of people as I pass by. Each eye burning into me. Each mind contemplating what’s about to happen. There isn’t an ounce of pity in the whole place…not even from me. I fidget my hands within the confines of the shackles that hold them together. How long is this hall? When will I be free of these eyes? I dare not look up, but know by the sound of crying that I’m nearing my destination. I know she wants me to look at her…to see her anguish. I owe her that…but I can’t. Even in these last moments I can’t do what I know I should. I just want to get out of this hall. Even the fear of what’s waiting for me doesn’t overshadow the guilt bearing down on me now.

At last we arrive. The heavy hand on my arm forces me into a chair. My eyes stay fixed on the ground. It’s my last act of power. I won’t look up no matter what they do to me. But I know I’m guilty. Why now in the face of death am I still trying to hold onto my pride? Pride is what got me here in the first place. I waver back and forth between hardness of heart and complete terror.

I knew all along that I’d be caught. And I knew when that happened that the fight would finally be over. There’s no forgiveness for what I’ve done. No mercy from the judge. I don’t expect it and I know I don’t deserve it. So I just sit….and wait.

The people around me are talking, but I don’t know what they’re saying. The voices in my head are drowning them out. That all too familiar hand grabs my arm again and forces me to my feet. This is it. Time to face what I’ve done. Not just this time, but every time before. Every time that I didn’t get caught. The list is long and despite my best efforts each one of them comes flooding back into my mind. Each offense pouring out judgment. There’s no need for this courtroom; the torment has already begun. I try to reach my shackled hands up to cover my ears in a vain attempt to quiet the screaming in my mind. Suddenly the voices disappear. Complete silence fills the room except for the sound of footsteps. One after the other. Slowly walking toward me. Without a thought to my pride or the battle I had waged to look only at the ground my head darts up. What is he doing here? My heart beats faster and faster the closer he comes to me. His eyes are fixed on mine. And oh his eyes. His are the first eyes not filled with hatred that I’ve seen in a long time. Although, I don’t quite recognize the look that is in his eyes. There is love….immense love…but there’s something else. Something I’m sure I’ve never seen before.

The hand releases my arm and moves toward my hands. I look down once again, this time not in shame, but in confusion as he removes the shackles. Shackles that seem to have been there for my entire life. I don’t understand. Why is he taking them off? I look back to the man who is now standing right in front of me. I’m too scared to say anything, but he just smiles at me. Before I know what’s happening the shackles that I was wearing just seconds before are now on him. “Wait!” I cry. What are they doing?! The hand that lead me into the courtroom earlier now restrains me as they lead him away. Why are they taking him? He hasn’t done anything? Although I’ve never met him before, I feel like I’ve always known him. And I know he’s perfect. I know he’s not like me. I deserve what I get, but not him. Not him!

I’m hysterical now. Fighting to free myself from the hand’s grip. I have to stop this. It isn’t right…it can’t be right. Over the sound of my tears I hear the judge pronounce his verdict. Guilty with a sentence of death. No! This can’t be happening! That’s my verdict! My sentence!

The hand finally releases me, but I don’t move. I’m frozen. The man who had been holding me looks at me for the first time. “You’re free to go” he says. I just look at him in disbelief. I can’t comprehend it. “Don’t you understand?” he asks. “He’s taking your place.”

I look back to the front of the courtroom at the man who just saved my life. They begin to lead him away and all I can do is cry. “Why?” I ask myself. “Why would anyone take my place? Why would this man give his life so that I can go free?” And as if he can hear every thought racing through my head he pauses in front of me and says “Because I love you.” 

to the other.  If my tiny house doesn’t work out then maybe I’ll just get a place in Tuscany.  I’ve already got two picked out:)

Option 1:
This house was built in the 17th century. 

For some reason this reminds me of the Godfather…you know when Michael whacks that guy and has to go hide out in Italy for a while…yeah, that part.

Then there’s the kitchen.  Look at that door in the background…I love that door.

This GINORMOUS fireplace makes my heart go pitter patter.  Now this picture reminds me of Beauty & The Beast…you know the big ol fireplace that the Beast is always sitting in front of…yeah, that one.

Good gracious alive.  Look at that view!  That white table cloth!  That bottle of wine!  And I don’t even like wine!

Option 2:
This place was built in the 15th century and is part of what used to be the fortress for the castle that’s right next to it.  Yes, I said castle.  This whole little town reminds me of The Princess Bride…which is one of my all time fav movies…so that fact alone sold me.

This is the full view of the castle and the view of it from the window inside the house.  For the love!  You can see a castle out the window!

This is another view out the window.  Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?  This particular spot reminds me of the scene in The Princess Bride where Westly has found Buttercup and Inigo has killed the 6 fingered man and now they all jump out the window where Andre The Giant is waiting with horses….I love that scene.

Here’s a bedroom and the kitchen.  I mostly just love those two pieces of furniture in the bedroom…although they could use a little help in the bedspread department.

Here’s the living room.  Look at all that exposed stone.  And the huge arch.  And the ceiling beams.  I love exposed stone.  And arches.  And ceiling beams.  

So there you have it.  My two villas in Tuscany. 

After reading this post I’ve just realized that I may have an unconscious longing to live in a movie…interesting.

when I said that there’s a huge part of me that longs to live as simply as possible.  Check out this tiny house.  If my pad in fun-roe ever sells this is on the list of possible housing options.  Not even kidding.

Man isn’t included…dang it.

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved the idea of being able to carry everything I need on my back.  That sounds really strange, but it’s true.  When Tanaya and I were little we would go play outside and I would pack my bag with all the essentials.  Which at 6 years old was Huggums (my baby doll), a juice box and my jellies.  You know…in case I got invited to a party…I’d have the proper apparel.  But there was just something comforting in knowing that everything I needed was right there and that is wasn’t much. 

I still long for that.  Living simply.  Being able to carry everything I own or need on my back.  Now don’t misunderstand me…I am not what most people would call outdoorsy.  At least I know I don’t give that appearance.  And I by no means have the kind of lifestyle where I can carry everything I own on my back.  In fact I’ve managed to quite efficiently fill up a whole house all by myself. 

I’m not sure what it is about having little that’s attractive to me.  I’m sure people who have little would think I’m nuts…the grass is always greener right?  I guess after just a few years of being in the "real world" and buying the things that I thought I was supposed to buy in order to achieve the "American Dream" I’ve realized they don’t mean squat.  I love my house, but it’s not important.  And we all know I love me some clothes…but they aren’t what matters.  I know it’s easier for me to say that on this side of the fence though.   

I’m not planning on packing it all up anytime soon, but I think there will always be that desire in me to sell everything I own and throw just the things I need on my back.  That, of course, will still include my jellies:)   

I had dinner last night with KQ and she asked me why I hadn’t been blogging.  I told her the truth.  I haven’t told yall the truth because, as usual, it’s a little embarrassing.  But now I’m gonna tell you…not because I’ve gotten over the embarrassment of it, but because today I’m feeling bold.  I’ll change my mind tomorrow…I’m bi-polar like that.

Without me realizing it and without me meaning for it to happen my blog turned into one big ego boost.  Somehow my mind started to translate X number of comments into value as a person.  So it became dang near impossible for me to write anything without that motivation in the back of my head.  "Will people think this is funny?"  "Will they think I’m super-spiritual if I say this?"  "Will the boy of my dreams read this and instantly fall in love with me?":)

So I decided that I was just going to quit the whole blogging deal.  No more.  Fineto.  

But then I thought better of it.  See I like telling stories…so I reckon I’ll keep on. However, in an effort to keep my fragile ego from getting out of hand I’ve decided to turn off the comments.  Genius huh?  I feel better just thinking about it.  Will you like this post?  Will you think I’m a crackpot?  I’ll never know!  And I like it that way.

So read and enjoy…or read and hate.  I’ll keep on peddlin’ my lollipops just the same.         

I’m a bit of a debbie downer…a tad pessimistic…a glass is half-empty kinda gal.  I don’t particularly care for that trait and I try to fight it, but I know it’s who I am a lot of the time.  So a good portion of my reflection time over the past couple of days has been spent thinking about the things that I wish I had done better…or wish I had done at all.  I know I am blessed abundantly and I am so thankful for what God does in my life, but my thoughts always seem to turn towards my mistakes.  Because I’m acutely aware of my downfalls, (like not knowing where to put commas) I love the stories where God uses a completely worthless person to do something extraordinary…which is pretty much every story in the bible.  I love reading about David…and Judah…and Peter.  Those stories give me hope…they speak a promise to me about who God is.  So it’s no surprise that God has once again been teaching me who He is through the story of another major screw-up. 

This screw-up’s name is Aaron.  His brother was a pretty big deal.  Aaron got recruited to help his brother with some speaking engagements and for most of the story Aaron seems like a pretty stand up guy.  He and Moses told Pharaoh how it was gonna be and then lead all the Israelites out of Egypt.  Then his brother wanders up a mountain to talk to God and stays there for over a month.  He left Aaron to run things while he was gone.  Needless to say the people get a little antsy.  They tell Aaron that they want a new god.  So he says "fine, bring me all your gold."  Then he proceeds to melt it all down and create a golden calf.  When Moses comes down from the mountain he’s a little peeved and he chunks two stone tablets at everyone just to prove it.  Aaron tries to defend himself by saying…and I quote " I said to them, ‘Let any who have gold take it off.’ So they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf."

Really Aaron?  You just threw all the gold in there and poof a calf jumped out of the fire.  When I first read this story I was disgusted.  How could Aaron, of all people, be so foolish?  He had seen first hand all that God had done in Egypt.  He, along with everyone else, had just said "All that the LORD has spoken we will do, and we will be obedient."  What could’ve possibly possessed him to make a false god?

Then I read the story again and something different struck me this time.  Do you know what God was doing while Aaron was making a golden calf?  He was telling Moses about the unbelievable ministry he had set-up for Aaron.  He was laying out the intricate and detailed ground work of a ginormous blessing that he was about to give to Aaron.  While Aaron worshiped a false god, the One True God made him a priest.  God made Aaron, and his descendants after him, the go-between for Him and the Israelites.  What’s even more amazing is that God was using Aaron to paint a picture of who Jesus would be…a greater and perfect High-Priest.  

Lest we think Aaron’s action took God by surprise, let’s take a look at what God had to say to Moses about it. "Go down, for your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves.  They have turned aside quickly out of the way that I commanded them. They have made for themselves a golden calf and have worshiped it and sacrificed to it…"  God knew!  I can’t get over it…God knew the whole time…He knew before the foundation of the earth that Aaron was going to make that calf.  And yet he still chose to give him a greater blessing than I’m sure even Aaron could’ve imagined.

Oh how I love this story.  I wish I could say that I’m not like Aaron…that there is no way I would’ve made that calf…but I know the truth.  But I also know this truth…God is good no matter what I am.  And for reasons I don’t fully understand He plans and uses our massive screw-ups to bring good to His children and glory to His name.

So instead of wallowing in self-pity for the ways that I have failed in the previous year, I’m going to look expectantly towards the coming year.  Because I know, all too painfully, who I am, but I know who He is too.  And from the looks of things He really likes working through messed-up people.  That’s good news for a person like me.

5.  The Christmas Song-Chipmunk version

4.  Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

3.  Blue Christmas-Porky Pig version

2.  12 Days of Christmas-Muppet version

1.  All I Want For Christmas Is You

What does it say about me that 3 of the 5 are sung by cartoon characters? Ok, your turn…what’s your fav?

"I was standing today in a dark toolshed.  The sun was shinning outside and through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam.  From where I stood that beam of light, with the specks of dust floating in it, was the most striking thing in the place.  Everything else was almost pitch-black.  I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.  Then I moved so that the beam fell on my eyes.  Instantly the whole previous picture was vanished.  I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam.  Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, 90 odd million miles away, the sun.  Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences."  -CS Lewis

"Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever."  Psalm 106:1

"What is most significant about this link is that our gratitude is ultimately rooted in what God is, not in what he gives.  The sensation of pleasure runs up the beam of God’s generosity until it stops in the goodness of God himself."  -John Piper 

Praying that we would all look along the beam and not just at the beam today.  Happy Thanksgiving!  

Remember when we talked about a more meaningful way to celebrate Christmas and give gifts?  Well I did some research and found some interesting stuff I thought yall might like.

Ten Thousand Villages has all kinds of cool stuff from all around the world.  They are committed to fair trade and buying one of their products helps bring dignity and a life of quality to someone a world away. 

WorldCrafts doesn’t have as diverse of a selection as some of the others, but still some good stuff.  Shopping with them allows us to "Assist more than 60 artisan groups (women and men) around the world who live in poverty in providing for their families."

Friends of the Third World not only provide job training for needy people in Indiana, but they are also committed to fair trade and "true charity" to people around the world.  This site has coffee, tea, flour, etc that has been fairly traded.  In my research I came to understand that a lot of grocery stores now have fairly traded products stocked…you just might have to look a little harder.

Go Fish is my favorite site that I found.  I like what the founder had to say…"What I saw were people from other nations…people who would never know what it would be like to go to sleep hungry…arguing the prices with these poor. What I saw were men and women who had nothing, being forced to sell what they had made for just a fraction of what it was worth in order to put food in the mouths of their children. It was then that I felt God tell me that I was never to take advantage of His poor. It was at that moment that I felt as if God was giving me a vision of a business that would glorify Him and impact the lives of many."  I found some super cute stuff on this site that I’ll be asking for:)  

I set out to try and find a way to spend my money that would impact someone else’s life and not just add to the clutter of mine and my families lives.  Pretty much everything I found was connected to fair trade.  I’ve heard this term plenty of times, but never really given it much thought.  I’m still not fully educated on the matter and would love yall’s input. 

Oh and Chapter 4 is up.  If you’re just joining us you can catch up on the whole story here.  I’ll start putting all the chapters under the Lou Ella link so she doesn’t completely monopolize my blog:)

I just got done yelling at the TV….and, no, there wasn’t a football game on.  Somehow I started watching the atrocity that is known as The Pickup Artist.  Has anyone else seen this show?  According to the website this show is a "tale of transformation".  It goes on to explain that "desperate times call for desperate measures.  Enter Mystery, best-selling author and ultimate pickup artist-a former nerd from the Great White North who has discovered the secret to wooing women.  Under his tutelage, he’ll guide this group of hapless horndogs through the rough waters of romance and help them find the courage to overcome their biggest fear-talking to women."

Seriously?  Have you seen this guy?  Apparently his name is Mystery and apparently he really knows how to woo women.

Ummm…ok.  I mean I’m not trying to completely bag on the guy and I must confess I only watched about 10 minutes of the show.  I’m sure he’s really a lovely person, but I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.  On next week’s episode the guys are given an assignment to make out with a girl they meet in a club.  Direct quote from one of the guys…"I feel like I’m finally entering manhood."

Set your tivos…and say a prayer for us TSGs.  If this is who the single guys of the world are taking pointers from we’re all up a crap creek.      

I read this passage a while ago and have been thinking about it for the past month…I can’t even remember where I read it now.

Bringers of Good News Are Precious and Beautiful

First, preachers of the gospel – bringers of God’s good news – are so precious that we see even their soiled and bloody feet as beautiful. Beautiful feet are not soft, manicured, painted, well-tanned feet. Beautiful feet are like the dirty, worn, wrinkled, leathery, scarred feet from many miles of trekking into remote places with good news that could not be heard any other way. So the first point of quoting Isaiah 52:7 is this: bringers of good news are precious people – people of whom the world is not worthy – beautiful for their worn out bodies in the service of king Jesus. Paul Brand, the medical missionary to India, said that his missionary mother took all the mirrors out of her house when he told her at about age 70 she had aged; and for the last 20 years of her missionary life (into her nineties) she never had a mirror in the house in the mountains of India. When she died villages gathered from all through the mountains to bury a beautiful woman.

That last part really stood out to me.  My first reaction was "I could never do that!  How would I pluck my eyebrows?!":)  But then I started to think about how messed up my idea of beauty is.  I guess I already knew that, but my efforts had been toward fighting my desire to be beautiful instead of correctly redefining what beauty is. 

I remember when I started to learn what beauty was (or what I thought it was).  All of a sudden I felt the need to wear make-up.  To get my hair done.  To wear "cute" clothes.  I even remember when I decided it was necessary to go buy a padded bra.  I’m sure I got the idea that these things were beautiful from a million different places, but I can’t in good conscience blame it on the media or modern culture.  Because the truth is I’m just as guilty of telling people that these things equal beauty….and that beauty equals worth.  How many times have I looked at someone and thought "what the hey are they wearing?" or "good grief look at that hair."

So my question is how do we teach our daughters…and ourselves…what beauty really is?  Do we forsake the braiding of our hair and the putting on of gold jewelry? Do we refuse to let our daughters wear make-up?  Pretty clothes?  What happens when they ask why Mommy gets to wear those things?  So do we refuse to wear make-up ourselves?  I’ll go ahead and say I do not want to do that.  I’d like to say that I can keep all the bells and whistles and still find my beauty and my identity in Christ.  And I’m not saying that’s impossible…I’m just saying it hasn’t happened like that for me.  I know who I am in Christ, but when that familiar desire to feel beautiful comes up again I don’t run to my Bible…I run to my closet.     

Redefining beauty is a nice theory, but I don’t know how to put into action.  I don’t know the answer to any of my questions.  I do know that I want to be beautiful.  I do know that all woman have that in common.  And I know that I don’t want my little girl to think that her beauty and worth comes from her face.  I want to teach her that beauty is a body worn out and completely spent in service to King Jesus.  Maybe the only way to teach her that is to be that kind of beautiful….I long to be that kind of beautiful.       

the political commentary you’ll get from me. 

He’s trying so hard!

I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this without coming off like a holier than thou a-hole.  Any ideas? Thoughts?