Rocky Balboa

it's not how hard you can hit
it's how hard you can get hit and
keep gettin' up

This Was Good

Spoken universe out of the empty deep
creation pleading to be told to breathe
sea and sky night and day every star with a name
This was good.

Creatures of the land and sea and
every living breathing thing
flying birds taught to sing and
so it was and so became perfect beauty
perfect way and this was good.

This was good, this was God, and this was good.

Dust and mud the image of
God wrapped up in us, him and her and likeness
touched by hands of glory, hands of love
and this was good.

Rain to fall and wind to blow
fish to swim and beasts to roam and
the voice of God and it was so
its not good for man to be alone

This was good, this was God... and this was good.

Writer of the wings of wind
Your design and our sin
still has You in longing
All my head and voice became a world of disappointment
You're the One who is the same
the One who is still believing that this was good,
this was very good.

Living things both large and small
remember He who made you
Heaven and earth and all that is
recall the voice that saved you
This was good, this was God.

-rita springer

Divide and Conquer

We have anticipated this past weekend for months, knowing it was a long shot and that it may be the only visit we get to have with our close friends; our soul ties, for another year. So when it worked out for them to spend three days with us, and all the kids, we were elated. Dale asked Marty to teach Sunday morning and there was something he said that keeps coming back to me.

He said that when there is a battle in progress, one of the greatest strategies is to
*divide the enemy* because if you can split them up *they will be conquered.*

I can't get it out of my head...

Martin Luther was grieved because his work, the labors of his life and mission, birthed severe division in the church as never it had seen. He honestly believed that if he went with a right heart to the leaders, they would repent and rebuild.

This is dear to my heart especially now because when we talk about our church, the first thing people ask is, "What kind of church is it?" I want to say, "It's Jesus' church," but that's a foreign concept to unchurched people. It's even foreign to a lot of churched people. But it's true, if we truly are the body of Christ, all of us, then our name doesn't define us, our affiliation should be seen in our actions, not the location or title. We should be able to interchange with every other fellowship in our community and we are the same. We're Jesus' church. It's a little ideological, I know. But in my heart it's so right that I can't help but hope for the unification of the true church. How can I not?

Paul said in Ephesians, "Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the UNITY OF THE SPIRIT in the bond of peace."

God knew that we would get on each others' nerves and that we would disagree. He knew we would hurt each other and that we would suffer difficulties in this life because of each other, but he instituted the church to function together in oneness so that when these things happen, we can cover each others hurts with love and continue in the race together.

It's work, it takes effort and consistency. As much as I have suffered the wounds of "Christians are the only people that shoot their wounded" I have also shot at wounded Christians countless times. It's a terrible cycle. But God has extended grace and forgiveness to me and I have to do the same in order to PRESERVE THE UNITY of the Spirit with my brothers and sisters in Christ.

This is what amazes me about the true church. When I am my brothers and sisters in oneness, I remember why we do what we do in this life. I am inspired to step up the measure of integrity that I live my life by. I want to be better in every way. Not that God isn't prevalent all the time, it just seems harder when there's no one beside me saying, "Press on! Fight the good fight!" And when I have it, I can do anything because my eyes are focused on Jesus. This life is temporal and eternity is real. It's where we belong, it's what we were redeemed for. And that's how we should be for each other. God knew we needed each other to go through hard things together, to sharpen one another and to push each other forward.

So run, Christian! Throw off the burdens that hold you back! It's only for a little while, we can make it together!

Come hither... let us think

It's funny the things you think about when you are thinking. After two miserably sick days for all of us, I felt surprisingly rested and well lying in bed last night waiting for sleep to take me. And it occurred to me- he made them disappear. Have you seen this movie, The Illusionist? At the beginnning of the movie, there is a scene where the best friends in young love run away trying to escape the powers that be forcing their separation and she says to the boy, newly practiced in magic tricks, "Make us disappear," in desperation hoping to escape forever, but he can't do it and they are ripped apart seemingly forever. But in the end- don't read this if you haven't seen it- he does it, he makes them disappear... it's fantastic writing! I'm lying there thinking, "He really did- he made them disappear! How brilliant!"

Which brings me to my next thought, "Is it inclusion or foreshadowing?" These simple literary lessons being stacked in sections as we continue -- let me interrupt here to say that Leila is standing next to the wall beside me; there's an arch between the dining room and living room and in the arch the wall is wide, also the floorboards are thick and high, but only in the sense of floorboards, in reality they are about half an inch out from the wall and the wall is maybe 6-7 inches thick. All that to say she's leaning against the wall and trying to sit on the top edge of the floorboard, and all the sudden she slides completely down, feet first, onto the floor in a *shwoop*. She is so funny! --as we continue the laborious process of studying HOW TO READ THE BIBLE FOR ALL ITS WORTH. That, my friends, is another feature of a narrative, where repitition resumes the narrative after it is interrupted. Repitition is a significant attention grabber pulling the reader's attention into the plot.

For months I have not been pressed to write... my ramblings, rather, I've ensconced in fiction requiring nothing but time and the energy it takes to type. However, the tide has changed and I have so much to think about that I'm compelled to write. Surely my readers have given up on finding anything new here because most of you talk to me on a regular basis, but if you have found me here before, you will certainly find me here again.

P.S. For HOW TO READ studiers: It's chaism(a)... if you have read the chapter, that was probably the most confusing feature, but here it is in simple terms. Not in the movie, it's in the paragraph above. The writer uses the ABCCBA plotline... it starts A:literary features B:Leila on the wall C: the structure of the wall C: detailed structure of the wall B: Leila back on the wall and falls A: literary features. S

*sigh*

Hello to you, my faithful friends and readers! Please forgive; I have not been available to attend to my current literary venture due to the gaping ditch running the length of my driveway. Having five children and no access to the facilities is an impossibility in the winter in Nebraska. SO I promise to attend to the afore mentioned venture in due time. Meanwhile if you are looking for a good read, I've heard there is a new post on www.bigafrican.blogspot.com that you might take an interest in. See you next post...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Outside.

A litte here... I managed to clean up the masses of confetti from the 10:07 countdown to the new year with the kids and was thinking about the year we had New Years with the Suttons and Dana said she was cleaning it up for weeks. Fortunately I had the foresight to say, "We don't need to use all these," and tuck them behind the punch bowl. Thank you Sista bringing your party favors, and lucky for us we'll have some for next year! Woohoo!

Now we're waiting for the events of the day to unfold; looks like we'll head out into the cold, bundled to the hilt with sleds, boxes, and trash bags. I used to be fun. In college they called school off one time due to drastic weather conditions; and being that we lived on campus, the foot of snow meant we were stuck. So like resourceful students, we raided the kitchen of giant pots and serving trays and belly-flopped down the hill all morning, afternoon, and night. Let me tell you, it was the time of my life. (back then) I did risk life and limb for the thrill of one more trek down the hill after dark, which by that time was a sheet of ice, and I flew down the hill, into the ditch, up the other side in a spinning blur and landed hard in the middle of the street, which was something I failed to anticipate. Fun stuff.

Now I'm busy; a busy, boring mom with little energy for fun. So after the suggestion was brought to the table, I forged past the busy boringness of who I have become, back into the adventurous being I used to be and decided we should go. So we're going.

Woohoo.

Predictability

Sometimes I think my life is uneventful, unpredictable.

I just walked into my kitchen to find
a mysterious Wal-Mart bag in the
center of the floor.

The floor I meticulously mopped yesterday
afternoon just minutes before
Leila dumped the sugar bowl all over
the floor and before Tre
knocked his soda off the table onto
the floor where it splattered about a
three mile radius.

SO I was walking through
the yard picking up various pieces
of trash and I realized there were
piles of
dog poop
everywhere.
EVERYWHERE.

At first I thought it was just one corner of the yard,
but as I ventured from one end to the other,
I found it
everywhere.
It was disgusting.
I kept imagining all the
frolicking children that play
in the yard on Sundays after church and
wondered how many of them dragged
dog poop into
their minivans and suvs.
*snicker*
I know. It's gross, but
I called the poop patrol,
which gladly obliged my request to pick up
the poop when I offered
wal-mart bags and plastic gloves.
Am I crazy? That's how I'd do it,
if I had to be on poop patrol,
which I don't,
because I've got five able-bodied children that
take great pleasure in doing such things.

Which brings me to my next point of interest.
Here's my dog, our dog;
he's their dog when
I don't want to be part owner and caretaker.
I walked out the door today and
saw the greatest thing ever.
We have a pink dolly
stroller with a canopy,
just big enough that
Leila can still take rides in it
when she feels up for the adventure.
I saw this little bundle of blankets tucked inside
the stroller and assumed it was a doll until
I saw poor Scooter's face
sticking out of the blankets!
Kennedy had him wrapped up and
sitting on his tail,
like a baby would be positioned.
He was just riding along like
it was normal until
he saw me and was immediately embarrassed, then
he started squirming to get out.
I couldn't find my camera,
naturally, and the batteries to the
video camera were both dead so I only captured
a milisecond of the moment, but I caught it darn it!

I'm sitting here laughing
to myself as I merrily type along,
all the children are playing outside in the
remarkably warm-for-December weather, and
I think to myself, "I hope
Leila doesn't go out there.
Surely there are still piles of mashed
poop in the grass,
she'll get it all over her little feet.
That would be awful."
I knew the door was open, but I was so
engrossed
in getting this written that
I couldn't tear myself away.
Yeah.
In the meantime I hear a rustling
plastic bag.
Leila.
Kitchen.
Plastic bag.

You guessed it.
She had carried the bag out
the back door and was just starting to
rummage through it.
I laughed all the more and threw
the bag out into the yard for
the kids to dispose of properly and
Kennedy said,
"If she was playing with it, I know why. Cuz we were too; it's really fun!"

It's not. Predicable or uneventful. Ever.

These are a few of my favorite things...

Friends

One of the greatest things about life in Nebraska is that
we have friends.

I have LOVED living in Missouri because
we were surrounded by family.
My mom and dad were close,
my sister lived with us,
Dale's mom and dad and sister and nephew were a mile down the road,
we had aunts, uncles and cousins and grandparents
at every birthday party and holiday,
it was amazing.

The thing about Fremont is the spontaneity.
I LOVE it.
People stop by, make play dates, drive by to check on us...
we have friends.
I still have my sister,
who is the only person besides Dale that
I am COMPLETELY uninhibited
with, and for that
I am more than grateful.
God knows I need her; and
we think each
other is
the funniest person in the world.
But in addition to that,

I have people here that I am totally
comfortable with.
I don't feel pressure when they walk into my house and
it's messy.
It doesn't matter if I am already
in my jammies and slippers or
if I am in the middle of a project that involves
piles of books and papers
strewn throughout the room,
I love to be able to just drop it to
sit and chat whenever the opportunity arises.
I love it.
I love having friends that love us
and that love hanging out.

It never ceases to amaze me how God's blessing works.
We have lived for a long time without friends and
without social stimulation,
which naturally forced us to
rely on each other
for both of those things.
That was the greatest blessing we could've asked for because
it reinforced the fact that God,
in His infinite wisdom,
gave us everything we need in Him first and
each other secondly.
Now that we are both completely convinced
of that very thing,
He has lavished on us a multitude of
people to run the race with,
that will crack jokes or
cry with us, but above all
fight the good fight and
stand beside us.

For this I am more than grateful,
I am humbled.

On writing

Starting to feel a little more normal... a lot more normal,
adding elements back one at a time, now if I could just
get away from that wretched devil
food that haunts me and lures me
into the lair of gluttony...

But in the grand scheme of things, I am feeling the balance
starting to come back to middle ground.
So many great things in my life,

I feel hopeful. I feel
more than hopeful, I am excited
about life.
I am excited about the potential of the
things that are happening in my life and

I wake up ready to start the day before I have to.
I am writing again
and that, my friends, is exciting.
Something about writing frees me.
I can't explain it; I know I've said it before, but

writing, like running, gives me the exhileration of flying.
Now, I've never flown
but I have been on a contraption that simulates flying
to a certain degree.
(The rip cord, it's a thrill ride at
World's of Fun that is like bungee cord jumping,
only you don't jump,
they strap you in and then
string you up and you
drop and fly through the air.)

So I can only guess
what flying must feel like
and this is the same thrill for me intellectually.
I love it.
I once read that writers cannot
not write, because it's not about the result
of the writing as much as
it is about the writing for the writer.
So adding that one simple element
has given me
a new lease on this new life.

So thank You God.
I know what it is that does it for me, and it's only because
You gave it to me.