A Slap in the Self Righteousness

It has occurred to me . . .

-when you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying anything negative . . .

-when you would rather peel puppy skin off a live dog than to spend time with that person . . .

-when you would rather sit at home in front of the computer than go be around the church . . .

-when you can sing 'Sing and Be Happy" with a deadpan face, anxious to beat the baptists to El Castillo but know all the words to "Fly Like an Eagle" and you grin because "that is a great song!" . . .

Then maybe you need to sit back and reevaluate your dedication.

. . . and then . . .

. . . then you realize that if it was easy, Christ wouldn't have had to die. We could've just popped popcorn and watched a movie rather than forcing Him up and into the cross.

I keep forgetting that nothing I go through compares to His life, His patience, His death, His glory.

Shut up and color, Jack.

Dogs

I have always felt responsible for Baby Blues death.

Baby Blue was the little blue heeler that we got to 'replace' Blue Boy.
1. Never try to replace a beloved pet until you're over the first one.
2. Never expect the replacement to be as good/smart/'lovey' as the original.
3. Dog ARE members of the family. Don't pretend they're 'just stupid dogs.'
4. Make sure you do get a new pet in time. They heal your heart.

Baby Blue loved to trail ride. We were out on the 10 mile ride in August. It was hot like the face of the sun. Baby Blue fell further and further behind, panting hard. Cheri drove by and Baby Blue kept trying to get in her car. I asked her if she could and Cheri told me no . . . her car was clean. She even kicked out at Baby Blue. (Wish I could forget that.)
Fine. So I rode on, making a mental note to go back to pick her up because I was sure she was too hot to keep going. She would sit in the shade for a bit, walk a bit, sit in the shade . . .

So I rode home, unsaddled Tesster, went in, made dinner . . . .
Totally spaced Baby Blue off. She wasn't home at dark. I told myself she was resting. And didn't believe it . . . but it was dark . . what could I do?

Was saddled at 5am the following morning, and took off to 'meet' her. I found her after looking for close to four hours. There were/still are no words to express the guilt I felt, or the regret. Bawling so hard it was hard to see, I took her home, wrapped her in a quilt I'd made and buried her by the tank.

That was 8 years ago. I'd gotten over it. I was cool with Baby Blue.

. . . and then . . .

. . . then Belly Button gets caught under my feet.

Again, there are no words to express how grateful I am that this time, I won't make the same mistake.

Looking Back

I remember:

*When my hands could clench and hold on.
*When Robby was so sick I had to put drops of water in his mouth every 10 minutes to stop dehydration.
*Blue Boy.
*The way Brandee giggled during her wedding.
*The look on James face when He remembered who I was.
*David Pursch climbing to the top of the bonfire.
*The trampoline at the farm - popcorn and shooting stars.
*Being able to run.
*Singing with Jamie, Carl, Rob, Jarred, Erin, Dana, Sean, David, Julie, Lauren, Amy, Andy, Lee, Darla, Robert . . . "We Shall Assemble . . . ". "Love one another, for love is of God. He who loves is . . . ", "I am the only one to blame for this . . ."
*Jarred's prayers when he was three.
*Dufus Kitty.
*Erin's shock when she found out I didn't celebrate Halloween.
*Finding mercy in the middle.
*Tamera Coopers shout across the pews.
*The look on Amy's face while I cried.
*Robby's ache to believe.
*Darla painting Christmas ornaments while we talked.
*Jaci's smile when she rode Chief.
*The feeling in my stomach when I signed the papers on the farm.
*Dana's questions on Sunday mornings.
*Jarred's eyes in September.
*The smell of frying chicken.
*The first time I rode the Tesster.
*Jamie's realization.
*Regret.
*Cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning.
*Alice Lester's hug.
*Sarah's tears.
*Robert dead asleep, feeling my icy hand and pulling it to his chest without waking.

The mind is a nutso place. Silly things - not in any way connected . . yet binging inside my head relentlessly. Don't you hate it when that happens?

Wednesday Class

I don't know If I'm able to put this into words.

I think the worst thing that a person can do is go through life without anyone really knowing them. Is there anything harder for the soul to bear?

Case in point: Class tonight. I was teaching.

Christ came into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey,
. . . people cheering (a military king)
. . . people laying palm leaves before him (in a patriotic show of encouragement)
. . . the roman army watching (because they were waiting for a riot)
. . . the city laying before Him. And He cried.

Because He wasn't a military king, and He wasn't ready to lay it all down for Israel alone, and He wasn't there to march into the temple, and Jerusalem was 40 years away from collapse.

No one knew. No one listened. No one heard Him.

He rode amidst a crowd that cheered it's sacrificial Lamb.

Cheered.

They didn't know. They hadn't a clue. He told them and told them. Scourging, humiliation, beatings - "Go, lamb, go!" Nails and blood and sour wine . . . Totally innocent.

He stayed on that donkey while they cheered.

Joel 2:25

When I was a kid, I honestly never got to do much of anything I wanted. Forth of five kids, farm and two working parents . . . nope, I was low on the totem pole. I pretty much worked (or pretended to) all of my childhood. And while I would never voice it, I resented it big time.

I also didn't get much of anything I wanted. Forth of five . . . I didn't get new clothes, toys were few and far between or even candy I liked (when I got candy). There were 7 pork chops for 7 people. There was one plop of mashed potatoes, a spoonful of green beans. That was it. I don't think I really understood what a desert was the whole time I grew up. I was never satisfied . . and man, did I resent that.

I was the one who bore the brunt of being 4th of 5. Cheri had it worse, but I had my share. Mike was sadistic, Cindy was selfish, Nada was mean and mom and dad were occupied. I tried to be invisible, except when I wasn't. And I paid for that.

I was lost in a crowd - the funny one who cooked. I looked into the world of acceptance with envy, but I looked silently. I stayed out of the way and hopefully out of sight of tired parents and bored siblings. And that was the way it was supposed to be, right?

God told Joel: "I will make up to you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten . . . " Joel 2:25

And He did.

Robert.
Rob.
Jarred
Jaci
Brandee
James
Kaia
Julie
Ava
Jocelyn
A weight problem, horses to ride, friends who worry and love on me, four devoted dogs . . .

and a Savior that ached to comfort me the whole time.

Falling Book After Midnight

There are noises in the house tonight.

I have, in fact been hearing the sound of people speaking, all jumbled and in-distinctive . . . almost as if an old radio has been left on in the attic.

The dogs don't react to anything. Robert falls asleep in 90 seconds.

My sensibilities scorn me, my soul remembers what happened before.

So many things we can't know.

And have no wish to learn.

A Reflection

I think I've made God too small.

In my defense, how can I begin to understand what He is? How can I begin to grasp a God who listens to the cries of adoration from grains of sand? He makes the wind sigh in security . . . how can I actually perceive that?

I am below the bottom. I am unable to look toward God with my eyes jammed shut and my fists clinched over my lids. I know this. I accept this. To imagine living within the span of His residence? To actually conceive of climbing on His lap, burying my face in His shoulder?

and then . . .

then I do "accept it". Take it for granted. Flippantly profess the power that is the God.

How can You stand me?

I see nothing. You, my God, are too far above. Too far to touch, but close enough to save.