Bible Heroes

This past Sunday morning I was a substitute teacher for the 1st and 2nd grade class. After Sunday school, all the classes for kids 1st-12th grade are divided into two segments: church kids and bus kids. For my class, the church kids were first.

I wanted to share some of the life lessons I've been learning lately. Before I got to class, I was thinking my audience would be a little older. When I walked in and saw half-a-dozen 7 and 8 year olds, I hesitated. How am I going to knock this down a notch so they actually get more out of this lesson than my babbling?

Turns out it wasn't that hard, because I also forgot that, after roll call and songs there isn't much time for more than a simple lesson. I dove in with all enthusiasm, though.

My text was out of I Tim. 4:12, "Let no man despise thy youth". We looked at the youngest kings of Israel (Josiah is the second youngest king, by the way, and contrary to what everyone in my class thought), David, and then the Fiery Furnace.

Even the "church kids" weren't all that familiar with this story, which was a blow. How do kids not know the staple Bible stories? So I spent my precious 10 minutes pacing and waving my hands and adding inflection when the Chaldeans tattled and the king raged. I threw back my shoulders when the three men, far from home and years removed from any godly influences but each other, boldly and respectfully declared that they would not bend their knees.

When I was done, I asked the kids what their favorite part of the story was. All agreed it was how God brought Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego through the furnace without a mark.

I grinned. "That part is cool, but that's not my favorite part."

And then I showed them something I picked up a couple months ago during a Sunday night service:

they didn't know God would protect them. They knew He could, but they had no guarantee He would preserve them.

The most powerful point of that story is not the part where they refuse to bow to the idol, or when God brings them through the furnace. 

Shadrach, Mechach, and Abednego, answered and said unto the king, O Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to delivery us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king. But if not, be it know unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up. (Dan. 3:16-18)

Those three young men, probably little more than my age when they came to Babylon, and so far removed from everything familiar and godly, stood up to a king and declared that under no circumstances would they bow to his idol. There was no way they stood up to him confident that they would walk away alive and well. On the contrary, they had to acknowledge that they very likely would die that day. From what we know of them, I seriously doubt they stood there in denial of the danger they faced.

And on top of everything else, look at how respectful they remained toward the king. I know things were different way back then and people in general had better tact, but even so, they called him by his title and politely but firmly told him they wouldn't obey his command. It paints a stunning picture.

God doesn't promise to bring us through every struggle unscathed. Rather, scars are evidence of the storms we've survived. They're proof of living and overcoming. They're reminders of the lessons we've learned. And some people enter storms they don't come out of except into Glory.

According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death. - Philippians 1:20

I ended my lesson with a reminder that being a kid doesn't mean a person can't still stand up for God and ushered those kids on their way.

The second step in the schedule was to pick up the bus kids at their previous class, wait while all 13 of them used the restroom, and bring them upstairs to discover their incentive of a quiet seat prize wasn't available. To their credit, most of them listened well anyway.

I skipped David and Goliath and took a quick look at Joash. When I mentioned off-hand how his grandparents were Ahab and Jezebel to demonstrate the brilliant legacy he had to look up to, I was met with blank looks on all sides (except those who were staring at the floor). And I hesitated, then asked if they knew who Ahab was.

Nada.

Elijah?

Who?

Much as I wanted to facepalm and then turn to that portion of the Bible, I brushed it aside and moved on to the lesson I did have planned.

And none of them knew about the Fiery Furnace, either.

"I think my brother learned that one," a boy in the back offered.

So with time winding down, I repeated my enthusiastic storytelling and prayed they were listening. At this point I didn't really care if they took away the deeper lesson, though that was important; I just wanted them to know this story. I wanted them to be able to turn to their friends later and say, "Hey, remember that gold statue that was ninety feet tall? And the guys who wouldn't bow to it and got thrown in the fire?" 

Because we need these heroes. We need stories we know are true about people who stood for God and saw extraordinary things done as a result. The fact that these stories are incredible and also true is in itself an encouragement.

The Fiery Furnace has come to be one of my favorite old Testament stories. It is not, however, my favorite.

I had a moment similar to this past Sunday several months ago when I was helping Wesley with his class. This time, none of the kids knew who Ruth was. We were looking at the kings of Israel and Judah, but when I found out none of them even knew about Ruth, I switched gears.

Ruth is one of my favorite Bible stories. She didn't really do anything amazing. She didn't see anything supernatural happen in her life, apart from God allowing her to have children (and I'm not trying to downplay that, but that's the only true miracle in her story). She is one of those background characters whose presence turns a tide.

Ruth was just a Moabite girl who married an outsider when his family left their home because of a famine. She didn't see God do amazing things and come to Him as a result. Her father-in-law, her brother-in-law, and her husband all died on foreign soil, leaving penniless widows behind. But for whatever reason, when Naomi heard that the famine was over and decided to go home, Ruth went with her. Ruth stayed by her, despite the shame of poverty and the burden of now being the foreigner.

She wasn't too proud to gather the leftovers when the harvesters worked the wheat fields. She didn't complain when a day's labor in the sun yielded barely enough to eat. And for Naomi's sake she sought out Boaz to be their kinsman redeemer. (By the way, Boaz is pretty cool, too.)

She traveled, yes, but it was to a place far from home with no hope of returning to what she knew. She didn't perform miracles or command nations with her words. But she has a whole book int he cannon of Scripture dedicated to her. God honored her quiet faith by giving her a son and placing her in the lineage of King David and of Christ. I have to wonder if, when David was a boy, he talked to his great-grandmother about her life, or if his parents told him stories?

And my lunchbreak is winding down. I'll be back!

Plank Update: Day 10 and I'm still alive and able to walk. Yesterday my abs were absolutely killing me but I feel better today. Also, my legs no longer give out when I stand up, so that's a plus.

Springtime - the Colorful Part

As I have said before, spring is my favorite season. However, within that season, there is a specific time which I always anticipate more than anything else about spring, and that time has come:

The trees are green again.

It always seems to catch me by surprise. One day I'm walking along, kicking through puddles and grinning and bits of green poking up in the garden, and then I look up and realize the trees are bursting with that sharp, bright new green of springtime.

Were I able to dance, I would do so every year when this happens. As is, I content myself with a whoop and a fist pump.

It's ridiculous, really.

Speaking of gardens, I am finally getting my own in place. The vegetable garden has yet to be established, and once it is we will be loading it with mature plants, like as not. However, Mom and Dad granted me my own "bit o' earth" in which I can cultivate a flower garden. Probably scattered with herbs, because they are my new obsession.

At the moment, I have a small 2x6 stretch of exposed earth with some grape vine cuttings and a couple canna bulbs. That stretch will probably get some more annuals set in. At the other end of the garden my new rose bush is in place with another canna in an old metal pot. Eventually I'll be setting up a spot for some peonies and hens-and-chicks, and I'd like to add more cottage style plants and the herbs throughout the season.

All of this I am doing with little more than my gloves, a trowel, a chicken, and a machete.

Yes. Machetes make great gardening tools. I pulled Dad's out of the garage, Wes sharpened it, and I'm using it to cut away the sod. Lobelia is my faithful gardening partner. She realized I was digging the other day and came over inquiring about worms. When she discovered there were also June bugs aplenty (eugh), she was ecstatic. (Note: chickens are also great for pest control.)

We pulled the chicks (did I mention we have about 30 more we got last month?) outside to get some fresh air, and I treated them to samplings of worms as well. If you want some cheap(ish) entertainment, get chickens. When they first taste worm.... Oh, it's hilarious. Our little bully Albert was always too slow and the girls would taunt him with their catch. He ended up standing in the middle of the pen screaming in hurt and indignation.

My weekend was full of fresh air and dirt and ant bites. On Friday, Mom took me with her on a run around town to check some yard sales, and we got a wheelbarrow. I am in the process of spray painting it sky blue. The girls like the color, though Mom and Dad are more skeptical. 

I also found a model ship that had been stored in the previous owner's tool shed. It's missing a couple sales and it's quite dusty, but for $7 you won't find me complaining.

So that's been my week. Well, that and we had Missions Revival last week. Always a wonderful time. It's one of my favorite annual events at church. The speaker was our missionary to the Philippines. He also spoke last year. The challenge was "serving as senders", and he spoke on how we as a church can support our missionaries in all aspects of their work, from furlough to the field and back.

Next on the list of church events is VBS. I pitched in last year and loved it, so I committed myself to returning this year. The theme will be more difficult than last year (which was Western): sports.

I'm not a sporty person. The best I manage is a leisurely jog. If only I could rent a fencing uniform.... Actually, I want to dig up something obscure or weird, like scuba diving or dressage. Regrettably, most uniforms are skin-tight or look ridiculous off-field. But that's half the fun, right?

So that's life at the moment. I should have more news to share in the next couple of days. The eggs Mom put in the incubator are starting to hatch. Their breeds are a complete mystery. We were hoping for some Barred Rock eggs, but we aren't really sure what we put in. I'm still hoping we don't end up with one whose father is Gerard or - horror of horrors - the late Presley or Aidan. Here's hoping.

There and Back Again

It's taken me a few days to sit down and write this because I'm still struggling to process everything. Tonight at church most of us "Peru Trippers" had a little testimony time where we got to share about our experiences in Peru. I had such a hard time sorting through my thoughts. I kind of knew what I wanted to say, but I lost it as soon as I stood up. Thankfully, I didn't dissolve into tears. But there was so much more I couldn't find the words for. I still want to share all of that.

I'm planning on doing a series of detailed posts after this one, rather than cramming everything into one long, unorganized, rambling post. For right now, however, I'll do an overview of sorts. 

Practically everything I knew about Peru before this trip was what I saw in movies, read in books (though few fictional characters ever go to Peru), and heard from my family and others who have gone there on missions trips. I looked up Peru on Wikipedia after my trip, and I can tell you that short page doesn't even begin to describe Peru for real.

I didn't realize how little those stories would prepare me for the reality. I think we all tend to develop ideas and pictures of places we've never been based on what we're told or pictures we see. I know I do. Turns out all those images I'd subconsciously developed over the years were not even close to correct. I can't say I really had culture shock. I did wish I had dedicated myself to my Spanish studies.

We had a number of bus rides between the children's home and the city of Lima and its suburbs. During many of these, Bro. Mike, the missionary whose family founded the children's home, rode with us. He provided little educational lectures rather like a tour guide, acquainting us with Peru. I learned that Peru contains every kind of climate existing in the world, from snowy mountains (3 hours away from us they were having snow storms) to rainforests to deserts. The area with which I am now familiar is the "costal" area: rocky, arid, and among the foothills and edges of the mountains.

We arrived at the end of their winter and rainy season. "Rain" there is actually a fine mist. We rarely saw the sun and most days were cuddled up in sweatshirts. Once or twice I wished for gloves. One the warmer days, we Americanos locos went barefoot, and the nannies asked if our feet weren't freezing.

While we visited the ritzy areas of Lima on occasion, that area and class weren't our focus. We spent most of our time among the normal people, the "average" population (and I'm not sure how else to word that, but I don't mean it offensively). The houses are small and full of large families, the conditions are poor and often filthy, there are dogs every where (I mean everywhere).... But that's not what I'll remember. Almost instantly, I was impressed by the spirit of the people we met. They were happy, open, humble, friendly, kind, and even content. Yes, many talked of how they wanted their children to have better lives; but they weren't consumed with that. They work, they struggle to get by, they laugh, they love. 

Peruvians (or los Peruanos, as we learned) are proud. Not high and mighty proud. It's more like dignity. For example, they might be poor, but they dress as well as they are able.

While we were there, we got to witness their Independence Day celebrations (which we didn't even realize we'd be there for). The actual date was the 28th, which was a Sunday, but most of their celebrations took place on Saturday. Just down the street from the children's home was a parade which lasted a good four hours. It was mostly school groups, all dressed in costumes reflecting different parts and times of Peru's history and culture. You could see the patriotic pride there. 

From a tourist's standpoint, Peru might appear very religious. There are certainly plenty of churches, and I'd guess the majority of the population, at least where we were, had some sort of religious ceremony they went through. But it's not real. It is simply religion: a practice, a pattern, empty words and actions in an effort to earn one's way to Heaven. There's no relationship with God, no fellowship, not faith. That was one of the most heart-breaking things of all.

But despite that, the people were still so willing to accept our gifts of tracts and Bibles. They're hungry, and they don't deny that. Again, they're so open and so humble, willing to receive, quick to love, ready to help. The people we went to serve and to be a blessing to turned out to be an even greater blessing to us.
This is turning out to be just as confused and rambling as I feared. I'll try to work on that. Before I close, I suppose I should mention something about the plane ride.
I was strangely composed when we boarded our first plane. Referring again to things I learned from movies, I expected it to be bigger than it was. Turns out all those planes in the movies were the long-distance type, while ours, for two hours of travel, was considerably smaller. The first take off wasn't as terrifying as I anticipated. There was the initial felling of weightlessness and I clutched the seat in front of me (where, thankfully, Dad was seated) and probably went pale. Mom was laughing at me, so I guess I was a sight. But after we leveled out, I actually was able to enjoy myself. It almost felt like riding in a van or bus, until we hit turbulence (which we did while passing the Andes on our longer second flight). Turbulence still bugs me, but I'm cool with the rest.
And our 7 hour flight from Lima had personal TVs with a wide selection of movies. Though I was exhausted from a long day, I did watch one. Heather turned on Sound of Music, of all things.
So the thing I was most worried about turned out to be no big deal. Yay for me!
I'm going to go now before I make any more of a mess with this post. I'll be back soon.

In the Wake of VBS

So that plan didn't exactly work. To be fair, it's been a long week; and, for me, the week can't even begin to be wrapped up until today is over and done and I'm curled up in bed with my breathing and heart rate back to normal.

VBS was phenomenal! Even though myself and my amazing assistant teacher were tucked up in a hot corner room where half the time the food workers forgot about us and the other half of the time they were avoiding us for the sake of their well-being, I enjoyed my job. (Plus, I got to play dress-up as a cowgirl all week. No complaints there!) I've had plenty of practice teaching memory verses thanks to Mom and Dad, and despite the fact that the kids were far more interested in their food than in me, I think we accomplished something. And I had enough wonderful, angelic, attentive kids to almost outweigh the not-to-good ones. Almost.

I'm not sure if the fact that every night but one we had to call in the reserves for crowd control is a testament to my poor ability to handle children, or testament to poor judgement with placing kids on teams. I was ashamed.

There were deadly dog-piles and the handing out of "men" and children whose vocabularies were temporarily reduced to "no" and "why", but we survived with our sanity only slightly damaged and some fun memories. And I reminded myself that it doesn't matter if it feels stupid; sometimes I need to play along and laugh at myself, because the kids will love it.

Yellow Team won the overall points for the week. And that's historic at our church. Yellow has had a losing streak for longer than my family has been attending, I think. Some years they may have won third instead of fourth; once I think they got second. But I've never seen them whip everyone else like they did this year. Even though my own Green Team fell in third, I was happy. Even better was the amount we raised in the penny offering for some beloved missionaries of ours. I think we're finally getting the hang of the penny offering.

One of the youth workers, who's more like the "All Youth Activities Director, Supervisor, and Supreme Overseer" at church, is not only brilliant, but I think a little crafty. Our verse for last night was Colossians 3:23: "And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men." I explained to my kids what "heartily" meant: quickly, happily, and with excitement, the way your parents want you to do your chores. I also reminded them that the verse is saying it doesn't matter if man praises you; man's opinion doesn't matter. All that matters is doing right because it has to be done.

When the Supreme Overseer pointed to a vacuum parked in the middle of the sanctuary and said, "That's yours", that verse rang in my head, and then this sneaking suspicion developed: I bet she picked that specific verse for tonight as a reminder to the workers who get stuck cleaning in the aftermath. Halfway down one row of pews and three banged knuckles later (have you any idea how difficult it is to vacuum between church pews?) I was convinced. Smooth.

I like getting recognized for my work. Who doesn't? And I try to make sure I recognize others for their hard work and when they are honestly putting in an effort. Which is why I incorrectly used the box of candy given to me for prizes in class. The candy was intended for kids who could say all four of their verses. When the head Cowboy for the week came in and suggested a quiet seat prize, I jumped on it. I can do bribes, too. In my last class, I extended it, and all eight of the kids left with candy in their hands (except one who, for reasons I still can't quite figure out, gave his piece to another boy because "I know you worked really hard on your verses"). I had four problem kids in that class, and the last night they all worked harder than I could have hoped, and most said at least one verse. Victory!

Anyway. People did tell me "thank you, Miss Amber" (what is with this "Miss" stuff? Boggles my brain, I tell you) and I sang back over the whine of the vacuum "You're welcome!" But I kept telling myself that, though the praise felt good, I would have put in the same effort if everyone else had all gone off to bed or (because few people my age make a habit of going to bed by 10) out for ice cream. Right? Of course right.

In short (because I have to get going for the longest day thus far in my career), I learned a lot this week. And I'm convinced I'll need every lesson down the road, from child care to knowing the right balance of discipline and bribery to doing what needs to be done simply because it needs to be done and there's a vacuum standing in front of me, even though some silly person will probably come along in 10 minutes leaving behind a trail of dust and garbage. But it's okay.

If I'm still alive and sane, I shall see you...probably next week. Tomorrow is going to be a long one, too.

Happy Medium

Okay, guys. What do you call a psychic midget on the run? You ready? A short medium at large.

It's a real knee-slapper, I know. And no, it is not an original. I got it from a co-worker. I don't think I've ever actually made my own joke. I prefer to enjoy a cleverly crafted piece of humor. Or point out the daily humor I come across in real life. Like when... Actually, no. I won't share that story.

But I digress! And that joke at the beginning is actually related to today's post. And this post is also inspired by...my shower. *cringe*

Typically, my shower is when my brain activity reaches its high for the day. My concious brain activity, that is. I like hot showers. Well, in colder weather. Come summer, I still like the water to be warm, while everyone else is bathing in Lake Superior temperatures. Though they say* hot showers aren't really good for you. (Don't quote me. It might just be me saying that, though I seem to recall reading an article about it which someone shared on facebook or something.)

Gah! Stay on target! So I like hot showers. But my body does have a maximum temperature tolerance. And usually, I start the water off too hot, and then knock it to the cold side, and back and forth we go, and the odds aren't good it'll settle happily in the middle. And I grumble about the shower having no happy medium setting. (Same goes with the volume in most cars. You get indistinct or you get too-loud-for-conversation.)

I first picked up on the whole "happy medium" idea from A Wrinkle in Time. I actually saw the movie before I ever read the book. I think it's because I saw the movie that I was disinclined to read the book for quite a while afterward. (It stinks. Admit it. The twins are rude and demeaning, Charles Wallace is spoiled, Meg is angsty, and her dad has little redeeming qualities. And Calvin? Ugh.) Throughout the book, Meg's family is telling her she needs to find her happy medium. And then, of course, they do find the Happy Medium. (And at that time, the true meaning of "medium" in this context eluded me. I had some vague idea that the Happy Medium was some sort of manifestation of Meg's good side. Don't ask. I think that was about the time I was also introduced to Ted Dekker's Three.)

As described in the little chapter synopsis I linked up there, Meg is encouraged to find a happy medium because she tends to swing from one extreme to the other. Maybe that's why I relate to her so well. And then I got glasses and developed the habit of shoving them up my nose absentmindedly, and our similarities grew, and I was happy.

Clearly, I need a little mediocrity in my blogging, because this is all over the place.

Oh! Mediocrity. That was part of my next point.

In a past post, I mentioned a sermon Pastor preached out of Philippians 4:5-7, the key being in verse 5:

 

Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand.

Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Pastor talked about how we needed to be sure we are grounded, especially emotionally, in our lives, not dropping in despair one minute and leaping with abandon the next; not so easily tossed about. Today, the word "mediocrity" has the idea of boring or second-rate, but in fact it's what we need to strive for in our lives. We can be calm and secure because God is always at our side and the troubles we face will pass, even though they seem insurmountable now. Where the world is stumbling back and forth, reeling from disaster and the reveling in their little victories, we are unshaken, because we have our eyes on what will truly last, and what will matter, and the rest doesn't upset us.

Not to say we're supposed to be unfeeling, unresponsive robots. We're still human. The point is that, no matter what happens, we know Who is in control, and we can rest in that knowledge. Other people will mark how we stay strong in the storms of life when they're clinging to their man-made lifelines.**

Yes. I got all of that from issues with water temperature during my shower.

 

 

*One day I'm going to write a book about this "they". Or maybe just a short story. And perhaps I'll title it "You Know What They Say".

** Why am I always referencing ships and the ocean? I don't even really like the ocean.

The Glory of the Cross

Note: I started writing this post a couple weeks ago. My days had been mixed up and I was thinking it was the Wednesday between Palm Sunday and Easter, when in reality it was the Wesneday before Palm Sunday. So I set it aside and promised to post it at the appropriate time. And then I forgot and blogged about chickens instead.
I came back to it today, wanting to finish my "Easter post". Due to the time difference from when I originally wrote it until now, I thought some of it might have to be adjusted. I only changed a couple tenses, so I'm sorry if it reads a little out of whack. And then I added more today. Not that this is really important to most of you.  :)  I just wanted to apologize if my thoughts seem all over the place...or moreso than usual.

From last week

For me, it's always been easier to relate to historical events, to really grasp them and appreciate them, when I can think, "So many years ago today this or that happened." (Perhaps that's why half of history class is all about the dates of events?) History can begin to feel like any other story if we're just told, "This happened."

I always love watching Preacher craft a timeline. It helps to put things into perspective, even if it isn't to scale (because it never is). And you know what happened this week, 2,000+ years ago.

Christ's last week on earth. For the time being.

He'd had His last supper. He'd prayed in the garden. He'd been taken prisoner, tried and declared guilty, beaten and mocked. And then He headed for a death on a cross, to be executed. Not for Himself, the perfect God Incarnate, but for the very creation that scorned and hated and spit on Him; we who reject and deny and curse His name.

Crucifixion was one of the worst and most disgraceful forms of execution. And Christ submitted Himself to it for us.

In my last post (or the one before that) I mentioned a recent Sunday morning sermon. The text was Mark 9:1-9, Matt 17:1-9, and Luke 9:27. (Yes, the account of the Mount of Transfiguration.) The subject: the glory of Christ's cross.

Glory (dictionary.com):

2. Something that is a source of honor, fame, or admiration; a distinguished ornament or an object of pride.

4. Resplendent beauty or magnificence.

No one before the cross saw it as in any way glorious. They didn't get it (Matt. 16:21, Mark 8:31). Those who followed Christ believed His glory would be in conquering Rome and ruling as King. Only a few days before, they were singing in the streets, looking for God to save them. But today we call the day of His death "good". It certainly wasn't good for Him. The mockery, the abjection, and ultimately the giving of His life after hours hanging in agony on a tree. But it represents hope and grace and love poured out for us.

On the Mount of Transfiguration, Christ prays and then talks with Moses and Elijah. They don't discuss His victory and reign. They discuss His approaching death.

They discuss "his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem." (Luke 9:31)

Accomplish.

The word connotes, at least nowadays, the achievement of something good, praiseworthy, and proud. People boast about winning a race, completing college, or getting their driver's license. Who considers brutal execution while being publicly humiliated to be their greatest achievement? Not only that, but it is human nature to try to maintain life for as long as possible.

Accomplish:

1. To bring to its goal or conclusion; to carry out; perform; finish.

When Christ declared "It is finished" and surrendered Himself to death, Satan saw it as his greatest accomplishment. He'd killed God! He'd prevented God from saving the world. The human race had rejected Him, tortured Him, and killed Him.

The angels didn't understand it. Why was the Creator doing this for people who didn't even care? Why didn't He call them to lift Him from that cross and wipe out His wicked creation?

Christ's disciples, His earthly family, those who followed Him and looked to Him as their Messiah, didn't get it. Why did it end this way? How could it? Where was their kingdom, their glory, with Him on the throne? When they saw Him raised on that cross, I believe their hearts were sinking. The weight of their sorrow, their hopelessness, made it difficult to breathe. They felt lost when the body of their Savior was laid in a tomb. What now?

The Devil certainly didn't get it. I wonder if he thought it was too easy? If it even crossed his mind.

Three days later, he had to be saying that.

Christ didn't just die. That's only the beginning of the story. No rock in front of a borrowed tomb could hold Him; no soldiers could stop Him; death couldn't keep Him. He claimed the keys of Death itself. His life was the ransom, His perfect blood the great price none of us could ever achieve.

That's the glory of the cross. That's the great accomplishment of God, even though people still can't understand. That's love, the likes of which no temporal thing in this finite world could ever hope to mimic. The Devil tries, but all his copies are like the crayon scribblings of an infant compared to the Mona Lisa. Not only crude and short of any kind of imitation, but also worthless.

A couple thousand years ago, as they watched their king, their Messiah, their friend, the Son of God, struggle under the weight of the ugly wooden cross, torn and bleeding and scorned on all sides, they didn't understand. Their hope seemed to die with Jesus, and then it was buried in a cold, sunless tomb. They didn't see the whole picture.

We have the whole picture. We see the pain and the hatred and the blood, we see the tomb and darkness. But we also see the victory! That's the glory of the cross! That's what we claim, what we hope in. “It is finished” is our victory cry.

 

Today

I’m subbing the teaching part of our Wednesday night class tomorrow. Dad gave me the verse a couple weeks ago so I could prepare. (He tends to fly by the seat of his pants when he teaches, which works for him, but I like notes.) I’ve slowly been adding thoughts and comparison verses to it since then. I don’t know how I’ll get to hit on all the points during class, but I wanted to share the gist of it here.

The verse is John 15:13, a supporting verse for Romans 5:1, which the kids memorized while working on the Romans Road a while ago.

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. – Romans 5:1 

Greater love hath no man than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends. – John 15:13

Whenever Dad starts to work with the kids on memorizing a verse, he has them point out words they don’t know. Then he breaks down the verse so they understand the meaning of what they’re memorizing, not just the words.

I’m sure the kids will understand what all of those words mean, but I went through the dictionary and got definitions anyway. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to determine which form of “that” is being used? There are a good dozen or more forms listed in the dictionary.) While I was working on that, a few words/phrases stuck out to me; namely, “lay down”.

What’s cool is that Pastor’s sermon Easter Sunday tied in with this really well and gave me some extra material. I love it when that happens.

To lay down one’s life is a sacrifice, usually for the sake of a loved one.

 

Peter said unto him, Lord, why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake. - John 13:37

Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. - I John 3:16

Christ wasn’t forced onto that cross. He wasn’t beaten into such a state that he couldn’t resist. He didn’t “surrender his life” or “give up his life” as if there had been a struggle and He was finally relinquishing control. He laid it down. No fight; no resistance.

Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of my Father. - John 10:17&18

Usually the king’s life is more important than anyone else’s. People give their lives for the king, promise to protect the king with their lives, pay any ransom for the king. But this King gave His own life for our ransom, and we didn’t even care about Him. The glory of the cross is that the King of creation laid down His life for the sake of people who didn't even acknowledge Who He was, who were so lost in their sinful darkness that they couldn't understand this Light that burst in. He reached down and paved a path out of the darkness, the stones His love and the mortar His blood; a road that starts at the foot of His cross. Our cross.

Peace, be still.

There's a word in the Bible that's been on my mind all week. It's significance was pointed out to me a while ago by my dad. The word is "Selah".

It appears most often in the Psalms, though I spotted it in Habakkuk on Sunday. (That's when I started thinking about it.) Somehow or other, Dad and I got to talking about it, and Dad said that it meant "rest". That's how I've been defining it in my head for a while. However, I looked it up on dictionary.com in preparation for this post, and this is what I found:

 

• an expression occurring requently in the Psalms, thought to be a liturgical or musical direction, probably a direction by the leader to raise the voice or perhaps an indication of a pause.
• a Hebrew word of unknown meaning occuring in the Old Testament psalms, and thought to be a musical direction.
• 1530, Hebrew word occurring frequently at the end of verse in Psalter. Supposed to be a liturgical direction, perhaps meaning "pause," or perhaps a musical direction to raise the voice (cf. Heb. base s-l-l "to raise, life").
•  a word frequently found in the Book of Psalms, and also in Hab. 3:9, 13, about seventy-four times in all in Scripture. Its meaning is doubtful. Some interpret it as meaning "silence" or "pause;" others, "end," "a louder strain," "piano," etc. The LXX. render the word by daplasma i.e., "a division"

 

Not exactly clear or definitive, though it's a decent starting point. So I went to google.

I kind of like how this article explores the various possible definitions, as well as the writer's conclusion. Another suggested meaning is "this being so, give heed to what is now to be said", which is also along the same lines as I've been thinking.

Selah. It has the idea of stopping, of pausing, to reflect; most often, to reflect on God and what He is doing. For Christians, we can be at rest when we stop and consider that God is in control and knows what He is doing.
Lately, I've been feeling weighed down by life. It's so many little things compounded, overwhelming me, so I almost feel suffocated at times. Like a ship lost at see, whose sailor is straining against the darkness and the rain for a glimmer of light from the lighthouse, all while struggling just to keep the ship from capsizing.
In the middle of life's storms, it's against instinct to stop what we're doing and just reflect, or even not think at all. How can we possibly be still, even for a moment? It feels like if we slow down long enough to catch our breath, we'll be overrun.

After Sunday school, which was when I saw "selah" in Habakkuk, the choir sang what I thought of as a "comfort medley". I can't even remember the songs they sang, but each was about finding comfort and peace in God. It was like God was putting it all in my face, drawing up a little theme for the day. I had to smile. Talk about a heart lifter.
I actually started this post days ago, but got distracted when I went in search of some verses. I ended up doing a word study on "selah". I believe there are 72 or 73 instances of the word in the Bible. All but 2 or 3 are in the Psalms; the others are in Habakkuk.

Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! many are they that rise up against me. Many there be which say of my soul, There is no help for him in God. Selah. But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the Lord with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah. I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about. Airse, O Lord; save me, O my God: for thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly. Salvation belongeth unto the Lord: thy blessing is upon thy people. Selah.
- Psalm 3

Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah.
- Psalm 4:4

Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.
-Psalm 32:7

Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee; verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah. Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them. And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee. Deliver me from all my transgressions: make me not to reproach of the foolish.
- Psalm 39:4-8

Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands: sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious. Say unto God, How terrible art thou in thy works! through the greatness of thy power shall thine enemies submit themselves unto thee. All the earth shall worship thee, and shall sing unto thee; they shall sing to thy name. Selah.
-Psalm 66:1-4

Whether it's during a prayer of repentance or a song of praise, "selah" is added like a call to reflect on the goodness and power of God. For His people, we can rejoice in His greatness and His love.
It'll be a longer word study to do the word "rest", which was another part of this little theme.

There's a song that was stuck in my head a while ago. Well, a certain portion of a song. "Hold on my child, joy comes in the morning. Weeping only lasts for the night. Hold on my child, joy comes in the morning. The darkest hour means dawn is just in sight."
Despite the troubles that surround us, we can find refuge in God and the knowledge that He is always in control, always at our side, and will always love us.
I don't know if I wrote about it before (I almost think I did), but a while ago Pastor did a study in Philippians 4. What he said about verses 5-7 often come to mind when I start to feel like that ship tossed about on a stormy sea:

Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

The first part, about our "moderation", refers to how we deal with the ups and downs of life. We need to be steady and consistent, not tossed about by what life throws at us. A thermostat, which adjusts the temperature, and not a thermometer, which adjusts according to outside influences. We aren't overflowing with cheer and laughter one minute and drowning in our sorrows the next, as the mood takes us. We're confident and collected. Yes, we're still human, but we don't get carried away and overwhelmed by life. "The Lord is at hand" reminds us that God is always near. To "be careful for nothing" is to not get worked up and worrisome about life. You know, that sick-to-your-stomach kind of worry that can debilitate you.
To a lot of people, the concept of prayer can be confusing and even ridiculous. What's the point of praying to God and asking Him to deal with your problems, or telling Him about something bad that's going on, when He already knows? What I've come to learn about prayer is that it isn't like a Christmas list, where you write up your every whim and desire and pass it on to people with money enough to satisfy; neither is it like a visit to the shrink, where you spend an hour venting about all your problems and get nothing but affirmation and maybe some gentle instruction. Prayer is bringing your troubles and burdens to God and asking Him for strength to bear the load. Prayer is going to a shelter, a haven, from the troubles of this world, where there is quiet and rest, relief and encouragement. Sure, God, already knows what's on our heart, but He still wants to hear it from us. He is ready and waiting to lift us up and carry us for a while, to soothe our aches and refresh us with His love. It's communion. Prayer isn't a time to mutter a half-hearted "bless this food" or "help him get better" or to throw out a series of "why, God?'s". Like going to church, it's a time to recover and be refreshed. Selah. Stop and consider how good God is. Take comfort in His love, courage in His strength, hope in His wisdom. Forget the world and be still.

 

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
- Romans 8:18

And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
- Mark 4:39

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her, and that right early. (...) Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah.
- Psalm 46:1-5, 10&11

"Whereas I was blind, now I see."

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, there was more than one thing I got out of church last Sunday. However, I didn't want to detract from the main point of yesterday's post, so here's the sequel, if you will.

Part Two isn't directly related to any of the messages I heard on Sunday. Not techinically. It comes from a moment during morning service where my brain got a bit distracted.

I'm counting on the fact that I'm not the only one who has done this before, and hope at least one of you out there knows what I'm talking about: that moment when you're following along in your Bible, and while the preacher moves on to his next point you keep reading, because whatever passage you were in contains something that caught your attention. Anyone else ever done that? By a show of hands?

Pastor was in John 9:1-3, where Jesus and His disciples come upon a man who's been blind from birth. The disciples want to know who sinned, the man or his parents, to make him blind. Jesus replies: "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him."

Pastor has been taking us through Mark, and the most recent lesson was in 7:31-37, with the healing of the deaf man. The message was about physical - and, by extension, spiritual - "deformities and disabilities", and how none of those are mistakes or accidents or faults, but the will of God. No one who is blind, or lacking an arm, or unable to speak is any less of a human being than the world's definition a whole and healthy person, and neither are they any less capable of being used by God. (Check out Exodus 4:11, Isaiah 34:4-6, and Psalm 139:13-16 if you want to get an idea of where some of this study took us.)

However, when we came to John 9, I got a bit distracted. Pastor had paused in his reading to expound an a certain point, but my eyes continued down the page. I don't know if I've ever read John 9, at least not in its entirety. I'd definitely suggest reading it, because I'm only going to summarize, and that doesn't begin to do it justice.

What really intrigued me was the whole style of the narrative. The entire chapter is one story, in which a blind man is healed. When the man's neighbors and acquaintances see him walking around, they all marvel and question, some doubting it's even that man, but rather a look-alike. Of course, the Pharisees are summoned, and they have a hissy fit. Their basis for this is that Jesus healed on the Sabbath day. They question the man thoroughly, wondering how had the audacity to heal on the Sabbath day, and how such a sinner could perform such a deed. They question what sort of man Jesus seemed to the former blind man, and that man replies that he was a prophet. 

Then the pharisees all but call him a liar and demand to see his parents, thinking the whole thing is an act. They interrogate the parents, who acknowledge that the man is their son and had been born blind, but that's all they'll say out of fear. 

This is the part I like:

24 Then again called they the man that was blind, and said unto him, Give God the praise: we know that this man (Jesus) is a sinner.

25 He answered and said, Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.

26 Then said they to him again, What did he to thee? how opened he thine eyes?

27 He answered them, I have told you already, and ye did not hear: wherefore would ye hear it again? will ye also be his disciples?

Verse 27 is my favorite. I imagine the former blind man replying with a little mockery, maybe even a smirk. Either that or he's so caught up in the miracle worked in him that he doesn't understand the Pharisees' thick-headedness.

A few years ago I came across a verse somewhere in the gospels where the Pharisees are chewing Jesus out about something or other. (Big surprise.) In the midst of their lecture, Jesus kneels down and starts drawing or writing in the dirt. I don't remember much else from that story. I'm not even sure where to look for it, and I don't know a good key word to use for my Strong's Concordance. (Read: my dad's Strong's Concordance which I borrowed a couple years ago and still have in my room.) If anyone has a clue to which verse I'm making reference, I'd love to know.

It's passages like this which make me love the Bible that much more: it's the greatest story ever told, full of the truth and love and wisdom of God, with the message of grace and salvation for all mankind, and right in the middle of parables and sermons and commandments, God throws in a little narrative where the characters are shown as normal human beings. How cool is that?
If you're reading this hoping for some deep revelation, this is all I can offer: some people refuse to see the truth, even when it's staring them in the face and there's isn't any other explination, reasonable or otherwise. They're so stuck in their ideas, their tradtions, that anyone or anything which doesn't adhere to those guidelines isn't worthy of consideration. That's no way to live. Our own mental blindness might keep us from witnessing a miracle. What good is physical sight, physical soundness, if your heart is cold and hard?

(As a side note before I close: I have to wonder if perhaps John Newton took inspiration from verse 25 when he wrote "Amazing Grace"?)

I dare you....

Have you ever had one of those Sundays where it's one amazing message on top of the other, so that at the end of the day all your mind-blown self can think is "Wow!" as you try to process everything? This last Sunday was one of those days. It wasn't just one mind grenade waking me up; I was in a minefield. 

Especially Sunday evening, when our youth pastor preached. Once a month we have Youth Service on Sunday night, where the teen choir sings, one of the young men directs the congregational songs, the boys take up offering, a group of teens performs the special song, perhaps a young man preaches a mini-sermon, and then the youth pastor preaches.

It was kind of like his message came in two parts. He was in I Thessalonians 2:7-13, where Paul is encouraging the Thessalonians on how they should live. Paul sacrificed so much so he "would not be chargeable unto any of you" (verse 9). It was his desire not just to preach the message God had given to him, but to help everyone he came in contact with to live it out to the fullest.

Then the message turned a slight corner, and some things my sisters had told me about their Sunday morning service were repeated.

Key word: dare.

First Paul talked about how he was gentle to the younger and weaker Christians (vs. 7), using the analogy of a nurse. Then, in verse 11, he talks about how he and his companions "exhorted and comforted and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children". The preacher pointed out that the analogy of a father implies giving instruction to more mature children, on whom greater expectations are placed. Infants and young children are treated differently than teens and young adults. 

As usual, my youth pastor threw in a sports analogy. He pointed out how coaches raise their voices a little when they want to challenge their players to do better. Yelling at a baby to eat all their carrot mush only results in tears. Yelling at a 12-year-old boy during a basketball game tends to make him run faster and put some effort into his game. The coach (analogy: God) sees the big picture and our place in it. He can't go out on the floor and play our position for us, but He directs and encourages us. We have to take the outcome of the game into our own hands. If we don't do it, there's a good chance in won't get done, because each of us has a role. One person can't stand around and expect someone else to come along and pick up the slack.

Our youth pastor talked about the competitive spirit normal human beings have, and how that is a driving force that, in moderation, causes us to excel. Then - and here is the point he was going for - that competitive spirit makes some people do crazy things when they are present with the words "I dare you". What guy won't rise to accept any challenge when it's preceded by those three dangerous little words?

As our youth pastor said: "Some people get offended; other people get determined."

It was mostly a challenge to the young men in our youth group to accept the dare of being true men of God, but it could be received in a broader sense by everyone as a challenge to live for God.

He pointed to Romans 12:1 - "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice". And I Timothy 6:11-14, where Paul "charges" us to "fight the good fight of faith", among other things.

In any good sermon, our own minds tend to latch onto certain aspects which resonate with us and add to them our own observations and experiences. At least, that's what I do. I could miss the main point of a message yet still get something truly important out of it because of one little passage or phrase that God stirred my heart about. While it was a key point of the message, it was also the one part that really stuck with me: the dare.

I thought about the oft-used analogy of the sports game, and the challenge to be participators and not spectators. 

A portion of a song I've heard on the radio kept running through my mind: "I dare you to move." I've only heard the song a few times, but the way I translate it is as a challenge to leave everything else behind and just live for God. To stop lying around and dare to live well.

Back when I was still searching for a title, I found this quote from Mother Teresa, and it also came to mind:

“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.

Life is beauty, admire it.

Life is a dream, realize it.

Life is a challenge, meet it.

Life is a duty, complete it.

Life is a game, play it.

Life is a promise, fulfill it.

Life is sorrow, overcome it.

Life is a song, sing it.

Life is a struggle, accept it.

Life is a tragedy, confront it.

Life is an adventure, dare it.

Life is luck, make it.

Life is too precious, do not destroy it.

Life is life, fight for it.” 

And, of course, while I was searching my Goodreads quotes for the above, I came across this one from Theodore Roosevelt:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” 

Dare, verb:

1. To have the courage to try; venture; hazard.

2. To meet defiantly; face courageously.

3. To challenge or provoke (a person) into a demonstration of courage; defy.

Challenge, n:

1. A call or summons to engage in any contest, as of skill, strength, etc.

2. Something that by its nature or character serves as a call to battle, contest, special effort, etc.

3. A call to fight, as a battle, a duel, etc.

4. Difficulty in a job or undertaking that is stimulating to one engaged in it.

   v.:

5. To make or issue a challenge.

Charge, v. tr.:

1. To command; place a burden upon or assign responsibility to

   n:

2. A duty or responsibility.

3. A command, injunction, or order.

Exhort, v:

1. To urge, advise, or caution earnestly; admonish urgently.

Beseech, v:

1. To implore urgently; entreat.

Like any good challenge, there's risk involved; otherwise, it wouldn't be a challenge. But when someone emerges victorious from a challenge, it's empowering to them (and often those around them) and it shows them what they're capable of if they just try. When someone looks us in the eye and whispers with a smirk, "I dare you", we're willing to put forth a little extra effort - 110% - to prove to them that we aren't wimps. We'll risk more, try harder and longer, go to greater lengths to achieve our goal than if someone simply said, "Could you, please?"

God, through Paul, is daring us to see what we can accomplish for Him. He's challenging us to look beyond this temporal world and live with eternity in mind. He's charge us to not waste one precious second of our existence on things that don't count to anything or anybody. He's calling us to press toward the mark, to fight the good fight, to run well in our race, to live to the fullest. Challenge accepted?

A Slightly Belated Christmas Post

I suppose I should write once more before we bid adieu to 2012, huh?

Merry Christmas! (I know, I tend to be a little behind the times....)

I forgot to mention our Christmas tree in my last post. We got it about a week before Christmas. While our artificial tree lasted, we used that, but it saw its last Christmas three or four years ago and, since then, we've got a real tree every year. I think this year's is a blue spruce. And yes, it's still standing. We aren't the type to toss out our trees and take down our lights the day after Christmas, as if that's the end of it. I'm still listening to Christmas music.

Someone suggested we name the tree, and my youngest sister tossed out whatever complicated phrase is "Merry Christmas" in German. Mom just gave her a look and refused her friendly suggestion, considering my sister could barely pronounce it herself. I responded with "Feliz Navidad", and somehow the tree became "Feliz".

Feliz sat bundled up and unlit for a couple days while our lives continued in the usual crazy, rather slipshod fashion. Finally, Mom said I needed to get the lights on.

I've never lit a real tree. It's hard. Artificial trees have nice, even rows of branches. I didn't even know where to start with Feliz, and wanted to give up, but Mom wouldn't let me and, being the sweet, unfailingly obedient daughter I am, I pressed on.

My poor hands after that! All over, past my wrists, my skin was sore and blotchy red.

Then we decorated the tree, tossed under it the few gifts already wrapped, and went on our way.

Christmas week was crazy. We only had morning service for church, and then an evening service Christmas eve. After church, the girls insisted we open gifts rather than after we all dragged ourselves out of bed in the morning. After reading the Christmas story, we did.

I got gloves, tea, some jewelry, notebooks, and candy, and was told my books would be on the way soon. I got Mom a fuzzy blanket so she'd quit stealing mine, leg warmers for one sister, one of those poseable wooden figurines for the other, and had pitched in money for Dad and the brother.

After that, we sat around until 10, when we headed out on routes.

We didn't get snow for Christmas. Still don't have much to speak of. But I don't complain when it's time for papers, because I've been able to wear my sneakers most days and haven't been slowed down by sludging through snow.

When we finally got home, we all went to bed and got up when we pleased. Then we girls helped Mom get dinner ready, we all ate, and proceeded to have a very quiet day. That's Christmas around here.

Life trudges on still. I work, clean, cook a little, try to write, and have hit 90 books read this year. The last was Little Women, which I've never read before, unless you count an abridged children's version. When I wasn't laughing over Jo's mishaps, the blend of comedy and moral lessons, and the general cheeriness of the lives portrayed in the book, I was sobbing like a baby; sometimes both at once, because it went from depressing to happy all in a moment. And that was before I got to the truly sad part of the book. I'm all too easily influenced by fictional emotion. Bother.

I'm looking forward to some of the changes the New Year is bringing. Actually, I think the whole family is. Though I don't techinically do New Year's resolutions, January is a good starting point for a lot of the things I'm trying to do; mostly, sorting out my crazy life.

Oh! I'll finally be revamping the blog soon. I got a title all figured out. The minute I thought of it, I was like "Duh! How simple!". It's a one-worder, but I like it.

But whatever! Happy New Year! And hopefully I pick up on writing '13 instead of '12 pretty quickly.

Cheesecake. That's about it.

Cream cheesey desserts are amazing. Not going to lie.

Why do I say that, you ask?

Because I had to blog about something and, at the moment, that's what's on my mind.

"Let me 'splain. No, there's too much. Let me sum up!"

There's a marriage seminar going on at our church this weekend, and I was called upon to make some desserts for tomorrow. A while ago I accidentally deleted my upwards-of-100-bookmarks for recipes, and....

That's not summing up.

In short, I went on a hunt for easy but delicious recipes to offer, and the end results were cheesecake cupcakes and cheesecake squares. I would have done brownie tartlets, but I couldn't find a recipe. I was also going to do scones, because I personally love them, but decided it didn't really work and I had enough with the other two recipes.

I told my youth pastor's wife (who had recruited my help in the first place) what my plans were, and she was very pleased to hear about the cheesecake. Which just confirms that first statement at the beginning of this ridiculous post.

I'm in one of those food moods. I don't know how most of this dessert will make it to the church tomorrow....

If I had a job (and I'm hoping that might be soon, because I have an application to fill out) I plan to use some of my new earned money to experiment with and try new recipes.

Now that I think about it, I might just make the scones anyway, so I can have them with some tea and feel totally British.

See? This is what happens when I have nothing whatsoever to blog about. Lesson learned: keep to the plan or everything fails, or at least results in personal embarrassment.

Well, I blogged. Now I should probably go make that dessert....

And just like that, it's over.

I'm having a hard time believe Christmas is already done.

Strange.

I spent a good part of Saturday out doing last minute shopping with Mom (she had all of my gifts already and there were some small things I still needed, so it worked well). Then we went to the Christmas Eve service and proceeded to squeeze all of our family and the Wrights into one pew. (Well, Dad was working, so not everyone, which is the only way we managed without moving a few people onto laps.) That was exciting. Mom said we didn't need to bring our Bibles because it's a candlelit service and we can't see them, and by this point we all have the Christmas story pretty well memorized. So we didn't, and I still felt stupid for not having mine.

A few special songs, the reading of the Christmas story, and a brief message, and then back home.

Then, due to paper routes, as well as a general disregard for normal traditions, we decided to open gifts on Christmas Eve and got our stockings Christmas morning before church. Soon after Dad got home, we all gathered in the living room. Allenna set up her video camera, Mom had her camera, and for a while we had Sasha in her crate while Hershey sat quietly by Mom.

We girls passed out the gifts, and then we debated about how we would determine the order in which the gifts were opened.

I suggested Dad use a die like he did a few years ago. He would roll a die and, based on the number rolled, one of us would open one gift (Dad being #1, Mom #2, and so on). Some didn't want to do it that way, but eventually we pulled Monopoly out from under the couch and Dad was given the die.

My number didn't appear much until the others started coming to the end of their presents. I've been wanted some colored socks so my sisters wouldn't take my socks, mistaking them for theirs and consequently wearing them all over the house and on missions involving paint and dirt. My wish was granted. I think I ended up with a dozen pair of socks!

I also good a fair amount of chocolate, which I didn't expect but was happy with, as well as some jewelry and a watch, fingerless gloves, a hat, polka dot rainboot-style boots, an uber-fuzzy blanket, and an upcoming year-long subscription to ancestry.com!

Apparently I'm usually quite boring to get gifts for. (While I think notebooks, wind chimes, and books are great gift ideas, most people don't seem to agree. Perhaps I'm too specific?) So I tried to branch out and suggest some things that haven't been on any Christmas list before.

I tried to get to bed at a decent time Christmas Eve, because of paper routes. However, Wes is trying to get in a lot of gaming time so he can make progress on his new games before his Christmas vacation is over, and he seems to have forgotten all about the trial of Sunday morning papers, and I have a hard time going to sleep when my room isn't dark, so that plan didn't work too well.

Maybe the whole idea of Sunday being Christmas felt surreal because I was up at 3 to deliver papers, just like any other Sunday. Either way, I was up by 3:30 and not home and in bed for three hours or so. The routes we're subbing didn't go quite as quickly as they should have.

By 8:30 I was back up and trying to get ready, but the skirt I had planned to wear was missing and the only other one I could find that would work with my new boots was dirty. (Pastor had recently mentioned that if the kids wanted to bring a new toy to church, they were allowed to, and I was determined to wear my new boots.)

Eventually I got everything settled. Aside from my shirt, leggings, and skirt, everything I wore was from Christmas: new socks in my polka-dot boots, my fingerless gloves, my new watch, my pink elephant necklace, earrings, and my slouchy hat. (I was informed by one friend that I looked totally hipster in the hat.) 'Twas delightful.

If I decided to wear all my favorite clothes (accessories included) at once, I would look certifiably dorky: blue-striped Peru pants, multi-colored polka dot boots, teal fingerless gloves, and...well, I haven't found a shirt yet that I call my favorite. All I know it is would really clash worse than all the rest. And I'd be happy.

We had intended to have most of the food made and ready to go on Christmas Eve, but we only managed to get the turkey cooking and the potatoes peeled, so we didn't eat as soon as we got home. Mom got the rolls ready (we didn't eat them with dinner but after) and I made apple crisp and helped make a pie. Later in the day, Heather helped Mom make fudge. Now all we need to fulfill the traditional list of holiday snacks is chex mix, but that might have to wait until January.

After we ate, we spent the holiday like any other: quietly, most of us in the living room watching movies and/or napping. I don't know what Christmas is for everyone else, but that's pretty much how it always goes for us.

And I still can't believe it's already over. Crazy. And we still don't have any snow. There's a 60-70% chance of some tonight and all through tomorrow. We'll see.

I was doing so well for a while there.

I'm not even going to try to make an excuse for my negligence. Granted, the past couple of weeks were eventful, but I still had plenty of time most days to blog.

And it seems my computer doesn't want me to blog. Right as I started writing, it shut off on me.

Anyway. I'll stop making excuses and waiting to forget about blogging and finally do it.

Okay, October the 3rd.... Wow. A lot has happened since then. Okay, speed recap! (Ha!)

That was the start of the Revival Meetings at church. Well, I guess Sunday was. Sunday through Wednesday. That's my first excuse, though they didn't start until 7. At 5:30 Monday-Wednesday a bunch of us kids headed out to sell coupon books. We made some good progress, though I think we'll need to start looking for a new method of fundraising. Three or four other groups are selling coupons, too, and they get started a couple weeks before we do every year.

Because of Revival, we didn't have Bible study or Institute.

Thursday, of course, was co-op. Nothing special there. Well, at least, not out of the ordinary, but the whole experience can be very awesome. Mrs. Johnson needs an award for coolest science teacher. I rarely dreaded coming to chemistry, as much as I hated it, because she's great at making the whole thing fun and as easy as possible.

Friday and Saturday I was up early to go to work with Dad. Heather came with me on Saturday. We mostly worked in the back room, unpacking product and sorting and storing it in preparation for the remodel.

On Sunday afternoon, a couple of us Sr. High girls spent the day with one of the awesome ladies who works in the youth group. We made cookies and soup and listened to a 2-hour recording of the testimony of Darlene Diebler, a missionary who'd been in prison camps during WWII. Wow! What a powerful testimony. I think it also had something to do with one of the girls deciding at church that night that she wanted to be a missionary, which makes it doubly awesome and exciting.

I'm going to pause in my recap to say this: I truly do have an amazing youth group. Yes, we're all human. Yes, we most certainly make some terrible mistakes and we are very capable of doing stupid things (as I realized yet again this week). But I don't know where I'd be, or who I'd be, without the awesome people God's put in my life through this. I don't thank Him nearly enough for it.

So last Monday was normal. Just coupon books and Bible study. Tuesday was also normal, with Institute. On Wednesday and Thursday, we did the remodel at Dad's store: myself and Heather, Vanna and Mrs. Wright, and Abby S. and her mom were all there. That was exciting! I spent a good deal of my time organizing books in the Christian living, charismatic, parenting, and marriage sections. Oh, what fun! Seriously, trying to alphabetize that many books makes my brain ache, and it shut down half-way through so I couldn't remember where anything belonged. Not fun.

Also we'd called of co-op for the week because so many of us were not going to make it.

We didn't do a whole lot on Friday, except Vanna came over to spend the night so she could come to the church with us on Saturday to help prepare for the Chili Cook-off.

We arrived at the church around noon on Saturday. There were 7 of us in the group, though for a while only four of us were there working. Our theme was Italian, as we were doing pizza soup (it's become very popular in the youth group). Saturday was tiring in many ways, some of them not really related to the cook-off, though I really don't want to go into that. I did have a pretty decent headache by the end of the night, though thankfully it wasn't nearly as crowded as in past years. Must be because we did it two weeks earlier than normal and it came up kind of suddenly.

So a few of us wore (or drew on, in the case of one) mustaches, some had aprons, some had hats, and one was a mime. We had bread and soup with bacon bits, cheese, and olives as sides and decorated with a giant sign framed by curtains (shower curtains, no less), a checkered table cloth, candles, and peppers. It was fun, though I didn't really get around much and only had chili from one table.

Bro. Mark's brother and niece were the judges. That was fun. They judge chili, soup, and presentation. When Pastor stood on a chair to announce the winners, he did 3rd for chili, soup, and table, then 2nd for all, then 1st. When we weren't called each time, we got more and more nervous. He got to 1st place soup and called our table. Abby S., Heather, and Tonya marched up to get the prize (a gift card), and Pastor said, "How could you not give it to them? Look at them!" Then he told the girls to stay up there because we also won for presentation!

Yeah, I jumped up and cheered like an idiot.

$50 isn't really much between 7 people, but it was a nice way to end an exciting day.

On Saturday I also decided it was time to take a break from facebook. I have numerous reasons for doing this, one of them being messed up priorities. And, sad as it is, it's hard to do. But in 2 days I've already seen how helpful it'll be for me.

Sunday. Wow. I think I should write a book with all of the adventures I have early in the morning. Mom had 80 papers added to her routes this past week. (Being former walking routes, they're all condensed, so it only adds 20 minutes tops.) Sunday was the first time I'd done them, because I was working at Dad's store on Thursday.

So we're about halfway through routes, working on the new route. Everything's going fine for me never having done the route. Then we notice a fire on the side of the road. One of the leaf piles that had been raked (too far) into the road was on fire. Happening to glance back at where we'd just been, Mom saw a larger fire in at the end of the court we'd just done.

We got to call 911 and report it. Oh, yay.

While we're waiting for help to arrive (they told Mom she could go but she wanted to make sure it was taken care of) Mom started wondering how it could have happened, and then she wondered if we could have started the fires on accident. She didn't dare ask the policeman when he arrived if this was even possible. (Yeah, the policeman came a good five minutes before the fire truck cruised in. He got an extinguisher from his trunk and doused the larger fire. The first one had dimmed to smoldering ashes.)

We left to finish routes. When we were done, Mom quickly drove through the new route and a few other streets to see if there were any other fires, me all the time trying to assure her that I honestly didn't think it was our fault.

Mom later learned that she wasn't the only paper carrier to see fires that morning. Apparently somebody had been going through and lighting leaves on fire. Nice.

That brings us up to yesterday. It was a quiet day for me, because I wasn't feeling good. I ended up napping, and then opted out of coupon sales and Bible study. Not much to be said about yesterday.

I'm thinking a (not so short) recap is all I'll write today. Now that it's taken me almost an hour just to write this, I think it's enough for one day. That, and I really don't have anything else to day. I know I had thought of something to write yesterday, but I didn't even make a note of it and now I can't remember what it was. Oh, well.