In the last two weeks I've been put on the spot. Both times I was asked by people I highly regard to do something I love to do but not necessarily in public. Both times I was asked to play guitar and sing some songs.
2 weeks ago Aunt Ethel asked me to play a little for the family on the front porch. All I can think about when I'm asked that is, "how awkward is that going to be?" But I did it and loved it. As the Zeilstra family sang old hymns on the front porch of Nirvana Manor, the Spirit moved. He brought this family that lives 1500 miles apart, together in spirit through my slight talent. And I was glad that I was asked to do that, what I assumed would be, awkward thing.
Last night LeBlanc, the guy that heads up the evening services at SafeHouse, asked me to play a little and sing some songs. When LeBlanc speaks, you listen. So I reluctantly sat down in front of around 150 strangers from the streets and sang some songs.
I've played coffeehouses before. I figured it would be just like that. And it was, until...
I was at the park this afternoon getting ready to play games with one of the street kids when a man in his forties came up to me and said, "hey, I was there last night when you played. I enjoyed it a lot. I want to show you my son."
This man then pulled out his phone and showed me all the pictures he had of his almost 1 year old boy. He then opened up to me and told me about his lady friend and his old addictions and where he stays and how he's working to get his boy in his custody instead of the state's.
This man (I do know his name as well as his son's) heard me sing songs and decided that I am someone to share his life with. If only he knew what was going through my head when LeBlanc asked if anyone could lead music and the kids all ratted me out.
So this man, not quite homeless, but not very comfortable either, went out of his way to let me know that he appreciated me. He heard me sing a song about my daughter and figured I would want to hear about his son. And when he told me, I was hooked. His story was very interesting, but more importantly, I felt used.
I'm reading a little about Moses. He didn't want to, he gave God tons of excuses, but he did it.
I'm not very good. 8 years ago I was thrown into this position of leading through song, and I accepted. It is incredible how I've been used through my ministry. Again, I'm not very good, but because I was willing to hear God's call I have been blessed beyond what I ever thought I would be. I'll say it again, I'm not very good, but I know that I will be used.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
SHOAtl
I'm back at a place I've learned to love. Atlanta in July. Every 4 years my job brings me to intercity Atlanta to serve the homeless. We serve with an organization called Safehouse. (since I'm only typing this on my phone I will have to just type their website. www.safehouseoutreach.org) Every night of the year, except Thanksgiving, (there is a huge dinner at Turner Field on Thanksgiving) they have a worship service and meal for the homeless of Atlanta.
This is my 5th time working with SHO, and every time I come, I am amazed at the work they do. But every time I come I am also reminded of how fortunate I am.
Tonight during the service, two little girls about 3 and 4 years old were sitting with their mother. The girls just wanted to braid our high school girls hair. These girls live on the street. My daughters are 6 and 4. That's all.
I love my time at Safehouse. I've learned so much. I've talked to some incredible people, both street people and employees. I've learned how to talk to total strangers and show them compassion. I've learned to listen to their stories, because people love to tell their stories. I've learned to look past my prejudices when it comes to street people. They are people, like you, like me, like my kids.
Today at the park, Carrie and I talked to three people. We didn't share The Gospel story with them, but we listened to their jokes and invited them to the service that evening. We laughed with them and valued them. They valued us. (think about that one)
So I ask for your prayers. Pray that God continues to work through SHO. Pray that God will work through this team, this week. And pray that we all be able to see what he wants us to learn.
This is my 5th time working with SHO, and every time I come, I am amazed at the work they do. But every time I come I am also reminded of how fortunate I am.
Tonight during the service, two little girls about 3 and 4 years old were sitting with their mother. The girls just wanted to braid our high school girls hair. These girls live on the street. My daughters are 6 and 4. That's all.
I love my time at Safehouse. I've learned so much. I've talked to some incredible people, both street people and employees. I've learned how to talk to total strangers and show them compassion. I've learned to listen to their stories, because people love to tell their stories. I've learned to look past my prejudices when it comes to street people. They are people, like you, like me, like my kids.
Today at the park, Carrie and I talked to three people. We didn't share The Gospel story with them, but we listened to their jokes and invited them to the service that evening. We laughed with them and valued them. They valued us. (think about that one)
So I ask for your prayers. Pray that God continues to work through SHO. Pray that God will work through this team, this week. And pray that we all be able to see what he wants us to learn.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Color
What's your favorite color? I hate that question. Seems so childish. I can tell you Little's is purple and Middle's is pink. Anytime the kids ask me, my answer is "I have a favorite color scheme." That color scheme used to be black and white with a little bit of royal blue. But as I walk down the hill from doing my favorite job, I look up.
I noticed it the other day as well. Three beautiful, natural colors that go together so well. I don't think I've ever seen it on Küler, or any other place except for the former Carolina Hurricanes jerseys. It's a color scheme that we only get to see about 200 times a year here in SW Pennsylvania.
Remember the old bumper sticker, "if God isn't a Penn State fan, then why is the sky blue and white?" It doesn't matter if you don't, it just popped into my head. I'm not a real fan of any college.
And there it is again, days later. God must really want hockey back in Connecticut.
I noticed it the other day as well. Three beautiful, natural colors that go together so well. I don't think I've ever seen it on Küler, or any other place except for the former Carolina Hurricanes jerseys. It's a color scheme that we only get to see about 200 times a year here in SW Pennsylvania.
Remember the old bumper sticker, "if God isn't a Penn State fan, then why is the sky blue and white?" It doesn't matter if you don't, it just popped into my head. I'm not a real fan of any college.
And there it is again, days later. God must really want hockey back in Connecticut.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
My Toughest Alleluia
Funny how sometimes I choose songs for Sunday morning. As I was playing "All Creatures" this morning in the 8:15 service, I remembered the corresponding Sunday last year.
I went into church May 15th, 2011 not knowing what to expect. I certainly didn't want to lead worship. I felt I had nothing to offer. I talked to the pastor and asked what we were going to do and his answer was that we were going to have church. I didn't want to. How could I lead worship when that happened? How could I praise a God that did that to them? My job is to lead a group of believers to worship the God of the universe and I wasn't sure I could worship him myself.
All creatures of our God a King, lift up your voice and with us sing, oh praise Him, Alleluia.
Let all things their Creator bless. And worship Him in humbleness. Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son. And praise the Spirit, Three in One.
And then it came. A bunch of alleluias. I normally do the set of 4, 3 times. Since it was just me and my guitar, no band, I went longer. I angrily screamed "alleluia" at my God. I sang as loud as I could, I cried out to God, I didn't want to worship Him. He had done what I thought was unthinkable, and then I had to lead these people worshiping Him.
I continued. I just looked up alleluia. It's an interjection, an expression. I don't know if there is a word for interjection confusion, but I was feeling that. It wasn't an alleluia like a sarcastic "thanks a lot," it was as if told Middle to apologize to Little for stealing her ice cream. The only reason she would do that is to not get in trouble. She doesn't mean it, she doesn't even really open her mouth when she says it. I was singing a word that is supposed to be a holy, worshiping, glorifying word to God and I am screaming it as angry as I could.
As tears rolled down my cheeks, I felt it. I don't know what it exactly was, but I knew I could stop singing. He heard my cry. I realized that there was a plan. Who am I to question it? Over the next three days I would be so incredibly privileged to witness and experience God's Love in a way that I'd never seen before, and hope to never see again, because it would, most likely, mean the unthinkable.
Carrie and I were asked to be involved in the planning. We asked her mom to take the kids for those next few days, and without a question she gladly did. We got a bunch of pictures and put together a bulletin for the service and a bookmark that Grandma wanted to make, the girl at Kinkos found out what we were doing and gave us her employee discount. We knew parking was going to be an issue for the viewing, so we asked Anderson Grove (the small group) to man the parking lots. They gladly stood in the rain and directed traffic. Video feed in the overflow room for the service at 11:30pm the night before? "Let me go home and get any cables that we might need. Let's do this." Take off a work day to lead worship for the service for a family we've never met? Boom, I have a band.
The next few days were Church. I couldn't believe the outpouring of Love that came that week. That week I fell in love with my church. The Bride of Christ served Her Groom by reaching out to one of Her own. By loving on people at their weakest.
When the kids finally came home all we did was hug them. They knew something was up. So we told them the best we could. After those days, we made sure our daughters (and eventually our son) knew 2 things.
1. God is always in control
2. Mommy and Daddy will never stop loving you, no matter what you do.
Thank you to all of you who helped us that week. Thank you for those of you that let us serve you that week. Thank You, God, for always being in control.
I went into church May 15th, 2011 not knowing what to expect. I certainly didn't want to lead worship. I felt I had nothing to offer. I talked to the pastor and asked what we were going to do and his answer was that we were going to have church. I didn't want to. How could I lead worship when that happened? How could I praise a God that did that to them? My job is to lead a group of believers to worship the God of the universe and I wasn't sure I could worship him myself.
All creatures of our God a King, lift up your voice and with us sing, oh praise Him, Alleluia.
Let all things their Creator bless. And worship Him in humbleness. Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son. And praise the Spirit, Three in One.
And then it came. A bunch of alleluias. I normally do the set of 4, 3 times. Since it was just me and my guitar, no band, I went longer. I angrily screamed "alleluia" at my God. I sang as loud as I could, I cried out to God, I didn't want to worship Him. He had done what I thought was unthinkable, and then I had to lead these people worshiping Him.
I continued. I just looked up alleluia. It's an interjection, an expression. I don't know if there is a word for interjection confusion, but I was feeling that. It wasn't an alleluia like a sarcastic "thanks a lot," it was as if told Middle to apologize to Little for stealing her ice cream. The only reason she would do that is to not get in trouble. She doesn't mean it, she doesn't even really open her mouth when she says it. I was singing a word that is supposed to be a holy, worshiping, glorifying word to God and I am screaming it as angry as I could.
As tears rolled down my cheeks, I felt it. I don't know what it exactly was, but I knew I could stop singing. He heard my cry. I realized that there was a plan. Who am I to question it? Over the next three days I would be so incredibly privileged to witness and experience God's Love in a way that I'd never seen before, and hope to never see again, because it would, most likely, mean the unthinkable.
Carrie and I were asked to be involved in the planning. We asked her mom to take the kids for those next few days, and without a question she gladly did. We got a bunch of pictures and put together a bulletin for the service and a bookmark that Grandma wanted to make, the girl at Kinkos found out what we were doing and gave us her employee discount. We knew parking was going to be an issue for the viewing, so we asked Anderson Grove (the small group) to man the parking lots. They gladly stood in the rain and directed traffic. Video feed in the overflow room for the service at 11:30pm the night before? "Let me go home and get any cables that we might need. Let's do this." Take off a work day to lead worship for the service for a family we've never met? Boom, I have a band.
The next few days were Church. I couldn't believe the outpouring of Love that came that week. That week I fell in love with my church. The Bride of Christ served Her Groom by reaching out to one of Her own. By loving on people at their weakest.
When the kids finally came home all we did was hug them. They knew something was up. So we told them the best we could. After those days, we made sure our daughters (and eventually our son) knew 2 things.
1. God is always in control
2. Mommy and Daddy will never stop loving you, no matter what you do.
Thank you to all of you who helped us that week. Thank you for those of you that let us serve you that week. Thank You, God, for always being in control.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Running the race
The other day I wore one of my race shirts to volleyball. Almost after a whole season of practice where I almost exclusively wore my race shirts, one of the kids asked me if I run marathons. Since I have signed up for Disney 2013, I could again say, "yes, I run marathons." Before last month, I could only say that I have run marathons.
I first decided to go after the marathon when I was in Disney World in 2007. I didn't realize it was marathon weekend. But through the magic of Facebook I found out one of my friends was running. So Carrie and I got up early and watched people run through EPCOT and I was hooked. EPCOT is the last mile and a half of the Disney marathon. I saw kids cheering on their dads and people of all sizes and ages who had been running for 5-6 hours and knew that that is an accomplishment worth going after. There were rumors of Pittsburgh reestablishing their marathon, but it didn't happen until 2009. So my first was the 2008 Disney (4:13:55), followed by 2009 Pittsburgh(4:15:45) and finally the 2010 Goofy Race and a Half (all the way at the bottom of page 1 of 6)(PR a day after running a half isn't bad either. However, being so close to sub4 has been bothering me for over 2 years now.)
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| Pittsburgh Marathon Expo opening |
I feel the exact same way. I just don't want to get off my lazy butt and do it. However, for the most part, when I'm running I love the experience. Whether it is listening to Mr Tony, worship tunes, or my own thoughts, I love being on the road.
So the question of "why do I run." Race atmosphere. I volunteered for 18 hours this weekend at the Pittsburgh Marathon Expo. I love it. I love talking "race." I love seeing people excited to accomplish their goals. The Expo opened at 11:00 on Friday. People were lined up to get into the expo hall and get their bibs and bags, as well as new shoes, t-shirts and greatest new running product.
I love being at the start line waiting in anticipation. I love the energy that people exude as they realize that the last 3+ months of training is coming down to this next few hours. It is something that I don't know if I've experienced anywhere else.
Think of it, at a football game, yes there are 60,000 people cheering for the same team, but there isn't that sense of accomplishment at the end if you win. Even if it's the Super Bowl, only about 100 people can claim that they were part of it. Everyone is going in the same direction, after the same goal. 26.2, 13.1, 10K, or for the really stupid 100 miles. You chat to people on the course. The spectators attempt to read my name on my bib correctly, if they don't say it right, how many "Barrettes" are out there anyway, they're cheering for me. If you see someone breaking down, you shout encouragement.
Think of it, at a football game, yes there are 60,000 people cheering for the same team, but there isn't that sense of accomplishment at the end if you win. Even if it's the Super Bowl, only about 100 people can claim that they were part of it. Everyone is going in the same direction, after the same goal. 26.2, 13.1, 10K, or for the really stupid 100 miles. You chat to people on the course. The spectators attempt to read my name on my bib correctly, if they don't say it right, how many "Barrettes" are out there anyway, they're cheering for me. If you see someone breaking down, you shout encouragement.
If you've never run a race before, try it. A 5k is only 3.1 miles. You may think that's a long way, but you can even walk it in less than an hour. Usually they benefit a local charity or group. So you can feel doubly good about yourself. If you need a nice small race to start out with, try the Romp. It helps the Penn Hills Track Team give scholarships to their graduating seniors.
I don't know where I'm going with this, whether it is to encourage or just for me to reminisce about my running past. I guess the thing that I can suggest to all of us that is mutually edifying is, if you see a runner (or bicyclist) on the road, please swerve away from them, and for heaven's sake, don't honk, that's annoying. If you are a runner or rider, be kind to the motorists.
I don't know where I'm going with this, whether it is to encourage or just for me to reminisce about my running past. I guess the thing that I can suggest to all of us that is mutually edifying is, if you see a runner (or bicyclist) on the road, please swerve away from them, and for heaven's sake, don't honk, that's annoying. If you are a runner or rider, be kind to the motorists.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Road Trip
The big thing on Facebook last week was how many states have you been to. I didn't take the quiz because I know right off the bat. 45. Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Hawaii and North Dakota. I don't really care if I don't make it to the last one unless there is a woodchipper involved. But right now, I'm sitting in a Super 8 in York with the volleyball team. On the way out here I heard some comments from the back of my van about seeing a super rest stop. Apparently, one of these kids has never seen a rest stop with a restaurant. Really? I might understand going 16 years if you lived somewhere without a toll road, but the PA Turnpike is only 7 miles from this kids house. The Oakmont plaza is right there.
I remember hearing of something called and "Oasis" that my brother spoke of when he traveled west. That's where they built a rest stop between the 2 lanes and people traveling in both directions can enjoy the same stop. Then when I saw it, I thought it was pretty cool. I was 14 and in Illinois.
While driving today, I thought about not only how many states I've been in but also, how many I've driven to or from Pittsburgh. (The Pens just tied the game at 2) Of those 45 states that I've been to, I have driven to or from (I once flew to Phoenix to help my brother move back) all but California, Nevada, Washington and Utah. On separate occasions, I've driven to the Tex/Mex border, Maine, Wyoming, Colorado, Florida, Oklahoma and driven back from Arizona. (Pens go up 3-2)
I've seen some pretty cool things. Today I got to see the York barbell company with plaster weightlifter on a spinning pillar. If you've been on one of these road trips with me, if I know of a big landmark coming up, I'll usually offer ice cream to the first person to see it. (ask anyone about Mt. Rushmore and Devil's Tower. I always win.) Probably my favorite thing to see is the Gateway Arch. When I was 4 and on my first trip to Nebraska, we stopped in St. Louis, rode the craziest elevator I've ever seen. Then when we went on some military ship in the Mississippi at the base. I sat at one of the guns, looked up an saw a structure fire across the river. Guess what I thought I did.
All that to say, I love road trips. I am driving home from Florida next month, driving round trip to New Hampshire this summer, and another road trip to Michigan.
I remember hearing of something called and "Oasis" that my brother spoke of when he traveled west. That's where they built a rest stop between the 2 lanes and people traveling in both directions can enjoy the same stop. Then when I saw it, I thought it was pretty cool. I was 14 and in Illinois.
While driving today, I thought about not only how many states I've been in but also, how many I've driven to or from Pittsburgh. (The Pens just tied the game at 2) Of those 45 states that I've been to, I have driven to or from (I once flew to Phoenix to help my brother move back) all but California, Nevada, Washington and Utah. On separate occasions, I've driven to the Tex/Mex border, Maine, Wyoming, Colorado, Florida, Oklahoma and driven back from Arizona. (Pens go up 3-2)
I've seen some pretty cool things. Today I got to see the York barbell company with plaster weightlifter on a spinning pillar. If you've been on one of these road trips with me, if I know of a big landmark coming up, I'll usually offer ice cream to the first person to see it. (ask anyone about Mt. Rushmore and Devil's Tower. I always win.) Probably my favorite thing to see is the Gateway Arch. When I was 4 and on my first trip to Nebraska, we stopped in St. Louis, rode the craziest elevator I've ever seen. Then when we went on some military ship in the Mississippi at the base. I sat at one of the guns, looked up an saw a structure fire across the river. Guess what I thought I did.
All that to say, I love road trips. I am driving home from Florida next month, driving round trip to New Hampshire this summer, and another road trip to Michigan.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Messed Up Breakfast.
Remember that guy at the mall, next to that other guy at the mall who sold those awesome rubber band guns that sold donuts from a popcorn machine? No? He was between what is now one of those stores that I have no idea how to get in, but I know I don't want to go in because the perfume that they spray in the (what I perceive to be the entrance) makes me sneeze and the pond with the gigantic fish that looks like they have been there since before Christ. We made those donuts this morning.
Last weekend we laid (or is it lied? that doesn't sound right) in bed until about 8:30 when we got a hankering for breakfast. Carrie came up with the idea that I should go out to the bakery and get pczackis as it was the last day they were available at the Oakmont Bakery until after Christmas. I, however wasn't really into that idea as I knew that it was a bakery the day before a holiday. She and I talked a bit about who would have the children and we decided that the five of us would load up in White Light and head down to the bakery. As we crossed Washington Ave on Allegheny Ave, we saw that there were loads of cars parked along both sides of the road, an obvious sign that the bakery was not a place that I would not want to visit at that time. As we drove through the parking lot, Carrie saw the inside of the building and realized it would take 45 minutes for our little number to be called, so we went to McDonalds instead.
All of that to say, this week we planned ahead for Saturday breakfast and bought Pillsbury Grands at the store this week. Apparently the Robinsons did this many times when Carrie was growing up. You heat some vegetable oil, cut out the middle of the biscuit with the vegetable oil lid and fry away. Toss in a bag of cinnamon and sugar and you get a cinnamon and sugar donut.
Today I experimented. We like the Pittsburgh cream donuts the best. So we left some biscuits whole, without a hole, fried them and filled them with a vanilla cream. (I've always wondered how they do that. It's not too hard. Just insert the icing nozzle and fill. It will make it's own space. Not very impressive.) Well there is a reason you cut out the middle with the vegetable oil lid. Inside the crispy shell and around the creamy middle was a gooey, doughy flavor that ruined the donut. Good thing we didn't assume this would work. Apparently those bakers know what they're doing. I'm not asking for help on making this donuts a reality, as I have more ideas as to how to cook them completely. I'm just informing the 3 of you that read this, leave the donut filling to those who know more than me.
Last weekend we laid (or is it lied? that doesn't sound right) in bed until about 8:30 when we got a hankering for breakfast. Carrie came up with the idea that I should go out to the bakery and get pczackis as it was the last day they were available at the Oakmont Bakery until after Christmas. I, however wasn't really into that idea as I knew that it was a bakery the day before a holiday. She and I talked a bit about who would have the children and we decided that the five of us would load up in White Light and head down to the bakery. As we crossed Washington Ave on Allegheny Ave, we saw that there were loads of cars parked along both sides of the road, an obvious sign that the bakery was not a place that I would not want to visit at that time. As we drove through the parking lot, Carrie saw the inside of the building and realized it would take 45 minutes for our little number to be called, so we went to McDonalds instead.
All of that to say, this week we planned ahead for Saturday breakfast and bought Pillsbury Grands at the store this week. Apparently the Robinsons did this many times when Carrie was growing up. You heat some vegetable oil, cut out the middle of the biscuit with the vegetable oil lid and fry away. Toss in a bag of cinnamon and sugar and you get a cinnamon and sugar donut.
Today I experimented. We like the Pittsburgh cream donuts the best. So we left some biscuits whole, without a hole, fried them and filled them with a vanilla cream. (I've always wondered how they do that. It's not too hard. Just insert the icing nozzle and fill. It will make it's own space. Not very impressive.) Well there is a reason you cut out the middle with the vegetable oil lid. Inside the crispy shell and around the creamy middle was a gooey, doughy flavor that ruined the donut. Good thing we didn't assume this would work. Apparently those bakers know what they're doing. I'm not asking for help on making this donuts a reality, as I have more ideas as to how to cook them completely. I'm just informing the 3 of you that read this, leave the donut filling to those who know more than me.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Nameless
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| The Hendricksons outside their nameless house |
But I decided that I would try out Downton Abbey, as I have heard that people that I trust have enjoyed it. It is watchable, maybe even enjoyable. But it got me thinking. Why haven't we named our home? Is it because it only has 7 rooms and a basement? Is it because I had to buy the house myself, instead of inheriting it?
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| The Flowering Snow Cherry Tree |
A house with a name screams "class." Fallingwater, Buckingham Palace, Graceland, Neverland...
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| "White Light" the 2010 Grand Caravan |
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| The Grand Entrance complete with butt tons of shoes and jackets |
So here's the question, what will we name our house? Will you consider naming yours, so that when we say we're coming over, we won't say that we are going to (let's say) the Balkey's, but instead, "we are going to Boardroom?" <-- pretty sure that should be a question mark and not a period, please comment on your interpretation.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Dress Codes
This morning we woke up, looked at the weather and realized it was cold with the possibilty of 70 later. So we dressed accordingly. Little has a pair of Keens. As we walked out the door, it was evident that the sun had not yet heated the earth enough for such footwear. I mean, I had my Chacos on, but I could man up. However, she is neither a man, or an adult, so she couldn't even "woman up." I asked her if she wanted to go get socks on. Her initial response was, "no."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." So we continued up the hill. "Dad, I said yes."
"Right, we're going."
"No, that means I want socks." Communicating with a five year old can be so frustrating.
So we walked back to the house. I rifled through the dropped socks that were left at the door. There were 4 pair, 3 of them did not match. The 4th did. Not quite sure why the unmatching socks were put together, but this is the way we live.
We all have standards. We all have dress codes. I am no different. You may doubt that I choose my clothing, but I do have a standard, "wear it until it smells." I also have a standard for footwear. It is one that many I know have employed. "You don't wear socks with sandals." However, Little's Keens, are not quite sandals. They are a hybrid. Keen has even invented a word. "Hybrid.ology." So the question is, did I allow my daughter to go out dressed inappropriately? It also reminds me of some of the funny Biblical standards that God set for us in Leviticus 19:19. Did God really not want hybrids so that I wouldn't have to deal with such questions?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." So we continued up the hill. "Dad, I said yes."
"Right, we're going."
"No, that means I want socks." Communicating with a five year old can be so frustrating.
So we walked back to the house. I rifled through the dropped socks that were left at the door. There were 4 pair, 3 of them did not match. The 4th did. Not quite sure why the unmatching socks were put together, but this is the way we live.
We all have standards. We all have dress codes. I am no different. You may doubt that I choose my clothing, but I do have a standard, "wear it until it smells." I also have a standard for footwear. It is one that many I know have employed. "You don't wear socks with sandals." However, Little's Keens, are not quite sandals. They are a hybrid. Keen has even invented a word. "Hybrid.ology." So the question is, did I allow my daughter to go out dressed inappropriately? It also reminds me of some of the funny Biblical standards that God set for us in Leviticus 19:19. Did God really not want hybrids so that I wouldn't have to deal with such questions?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Waiting
I'm sitting here in the waiting room of a local hospital. According to the electronic board, Carrie is in Pre-op, whatever that is. I read my 3 chapters of Isaiah for the day. It was difficult though with Ellen on the TV interviewing Daniel Radcliffe. It wouldn't seem like it would be that hard for me to concentrate as I never really got into the Harry Potter thing. Then a call came on Carrie's phone with a number that looked like it could be Little's school. Heart in throat, I pick it up. Crap, it is school.
After I put her on the bus this morning I had one of those stupid thoughts we parents occasionally get. But after the robot on the other side of the phone got done introducing its self, the first word was "tonight." Relief. It's only about something we're not going to.
It's incredible how distracting the world can be. I glance to the electronic board again, but I know it's not going to change, because the nice elderly gentleman that signed me into this waiting room said I could see
Carrie before she went into surgery.
Back to Isaiah. Wait, instead of using this Bible app, I actually brought a real hard copy of the Bible with me. Root and jostle in my briefcase. Ahh, the copy that I bought at the God store for $5 because I thought it might make me read more. How long are these chapters, only high twenties? Why is it taking so long for me to read them?
Ok, done, what did I just read? Any song ideas? I don't know, because I'm not quite sure what I just read.
A couple of days ago as I was reading, I actually thanked God for the section titles because without them, I'd have even less of a clue. "A bruised reed..a smoldering wick" I recognize those. What did Dr. Smith say about those? Let's hope the Holy Spirit will translate all that to His use through me someday.
Crap, that thought about Little came back. After the school shooting in Ohio, I asked her if they ever did something to the effect of a "lockdown." I didn't use that word, I just described what it might look like- and she said "no." That's ok, right? She's only in kindergarten. Why scare the kids when it will most likely and hopefully never happen? I've done what I can, and if God wants her, what am I going to do?
How long has it been. They said I can go back in about an hour.
Neat, Anderson (what a great name) Cooper is doing a show on arranged marriages. Still no interest. Just makes me think, "would mom and pops have picked me?" Probably not, but nuts and bolts, they're stuck with me.
Wait, is God preparing me to be bruised and telling me he won't break me? I guess I'll just have to wait.
After I put her on the bus this morning I had one of those stupid thoughts we parents occasionally get. But after the robot on the other side of the phone got done introducing its self, the first word was "tonight." Relief. It's only about something we're not going to.
It's incredible how distracting the world can be. I glance to the electronic board again, but I know it's not going to change, because the nice elderly gentleman that signed me into this waiting room said I could see
Carrie before she went into surgery.
Back to Isaiah. Wait, instead of using this Bible app, I actually brought a real hard copy of the Bible with me. Root and jostle in my briefcase. Ahh, the copy that I bought at the God store for $5 because I thought it might make me read more. How long are these chapters, only high twenties? Why is it taking so long for me to read them?
Ok, done, what did I just read? Any song ideas? I don't know, because I'm not quite sure what I just read.
A couple of days ago as I was reading, I actually thanked God for the section titles because without them, I'd have even less of a clue. "A bruised reed..a smoldering wick" I recognize those. What did Dr. Smith say about those? Let's hope the Holy Spirit will translate all that to His use through me someday.
Crap, that thought about Little came back. After the school shooting in Ohio, I asked her if they ever did something to the effect of a "lockdown." I didn't use that word, I just described what it might look like- and she said "no." That's ok, right? She's only in kindergarten. Why scare the kids when it will most likely and hopefully never happen? I've done what I can, and if God wants her, what am I going to do?
How long has it been. They said I can go back in about an hour.
Neat, Anderson (what a great name) Cooper is doing a show on arranged marriages. Still no interest. Just makes me think, "would mom and pops have picked me?" Probably not, but nuts and bolts, they're stuck with me.
Wait, is God preparing me to be bruised and telling me he won't break me? I guess I'll just have to wait.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Take Her to the Zoo
Anyone ever see Rocky? Neither have I. I just know the general storyline as well as one line. It happens to be, "take her to the zoo..." (maybe I know a little more, but I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the whole thing) So, I took her, and them to the zoo this week. We wanted to see the "Parade of Penguins," but the Lord decided to not give us a winter this year, so the penguins stayed inside. Here are some more pictures of Little, Middle (who I am starting to think about calling "Poser") and Boy, from this week using Carrie's new lens.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
More cake and babies
Here's what my cake decorating skills amount to
Turns out ganache is just hot heavy cream with chocolate chips tossed in there. And fresh raspberries are better than the jelly . 
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| Birthday girl in her favorite corporate sponsorship |
Saturday, March 10, 2012
New Lens and Cake
Someone got a new camera lens for their birthday.
Some lucky children got to lick the beaters.
Here are some of the first pictures from the new 50mm f1.4 lens
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Oh, and we will have cake later.
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