Six Months

In the winter of Hannah’s 5th grade year, a fellow PTA mom invited me to join a Bible study she attended. I agreed to join her. Our church did not have a women’s Bible study, and I knew my spiritual life was in rough shape. Plus, I felt ashamed to reject her invitation. The Bible study was only once a week, but it was one of the hardest commitments I ever made.

You see, each time I walked into that church, I felt as if I was walking through the hallway naked—heart, mind, and soul exposed. I cannot think of another time in my life I have ever felt so uncomfortable. You would think I’d have recognized this as the Holy Spirit’s conviction, an evidence of my sinful heart, but I was deeply deceived. I had fully given myself over to vain and selfish pursuits.


It started very sincerely. I had such good motives. We were living in a small town on the New England seacoast, and I loved it there. My little family had a very nice life. There were no private, Christian schools close by, so we enrolled Hannah in the public schools and I became a frequent volunteer.  As a stay-at-home mom, I had the time to give, so I gave many hours to the PTA. I worked hard and that dedication eventually made a place for me in the PTA Mom’s clique. That led to my being asked to become Co-President, and I was delighted. 

I rather enjoyed being a big fish in a little pond, and the little bit of power and influence I yielded felt like a well-deserved reward. I said it was all about the children—especially my own—but I was deceiving myself. The truth was, I was an embittered wife and the PTA was a way I could make things all about me.

While I worked so hard to improve the school for everyone else’s children, my own daughter was neglected. How many nights did I leave her and Doug at home, because I had an important meeting to attend? How many vacation days did Doug spend on PTA work days? I hate to think how much money and how many hours I spent. There was just enough “success” from one month to the next to keep me thinking it was all worth it.


Then, something happened. Something very unexpected.

It was in April of Hannah’s 5th-grade year. I was sitting in a circle with the other ladies in that Bible study, Bibles and folders on our lap, when the leader asked a question that hadn’t been in our study notes. She asked us to just say the first thing that came to mind, without analyzing the question or our answer.

Now, before I share her question, I want to ask you to do the same. Don’t think; don’t analyze. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her question was:

“What would you do, if you knew for sure that Jesus Christ was coming (the Rapture of the church) in six months?”


Even today, seventeen-and-a-half years later, thinking about that moment makes me emotional. I remember it so clearly. This was my answer: 

“I would support my husband’s ministry.”

What? 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing myself say. Didn’t I already support him? Hadn’t I encouraged him in everything he did for the Lord? It’s not as tough he was called to full-time ministry. How much support did he need?

I hate to say this, but I just didn’t get it. I prayed a prayer of some description before the Bible study finished, committing myself to at least meditating on what this meant, but my prayer was a lot of blah, blah, blah. I went home and went back to work, with the PTA still my priority.  In fact, our biggest events of the year were still coming up.

By June, the Bible study had ended for the summer, and Hannah would soon be promoted to the junior high. PTA elections were held, and I was asked to continue my work. The vote was unanimous, and I made sure there would be no more co- in my title. Why did we need two co-presidents, when I did all the work? Honestly, if I had asked to be called the Queen of the PTA, they would have probably agreed, because I had elevated the PTA. People kept telling me it had been the best year anyone could recall—the most events, the most funds raised, the most accomplishments. The Superintendent and School Board respected me. Teachers appreciated me. Principals feared me. Parents depended on me. 

And, then something happened. Something very unexpected.

I woke up on a lovely, warm and sunny day, and couldn’t speak. I could barely swallow. I went to bed perfectly well, there had been no signs of illness. Yet, I woke-up sicker than I could remember ever being. The doctor said it was an “extreme case” of strep throat. No one else in my circle had strep, or even knew someone with it. Nonetheless, there I was, sick as a dog. It was time for the final event of the year, an event I’d been planning for and looking forward to for over a year, the biggest production of the year, and something no one else had even done there: a Volunteer Appreciation Banquet. Everything was coming together beautifully. I’d made all of the thank you gifts. Food had been arranged. Beautiful invitations were designed by yours truly, and mailed in envelopes I’d addressed myself. The big event was just days away, but I was completely derailed.


I don’t know why*, but knew God had something to do with what was happening. For almost two weeks, I sat in bed silent. I couldn’t even whisper. I had to turn all the plans for my big event over to my co-president. She’d call with questions, and I’d write the answers down for Doug to tell her for me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The grand finale of my year, and I wouldn’t even be able to attend. I wasn’t going to get my victory lap. 

But, during that silence, God finally got me to stop and listen. And, He spoke one simple thing to me.

“Come home.”


Despite my sinful heart, I did fear God. I knew not to disobey a direct order. The instruction was simple, but I knew what it meant.

Once my voice returned (almost the day after the banquet), I resigned from the PTA. I was actually very thankful to make my exit, and never missed it.

Homeschooling was also an very easy transition to make. We were committed to keeping Hannah connected to her school friends, and she seemed excited about the prospect of being an independent learner.

Supporting my husband’s ministry was the one thing I wasn’t sure how to do, but within a week’s time I would learn that the struggle he’d confessed after our tenth anniversary debacle had not been overcome. In fact, I began to see that Satan was aiming for his heart, trying to take away not just his victory, but his very life. My husband needed me, and I was going to begin learning how to pray for him and love him through the spiritual battle that was waiting right around the corner.

*Actually, I do know why, now that I have written this: it was the peace I felt about it all. I wasn’t angry or fretting. I was resigned in my heart. I knew I had brought this upon myself, because I had not been heeding the Holy Spirit all winter and spring, as He had tried to get me to see my sinfulness and selfishness. I was walking in rebellion, but His mercy stopped me in my tracks. Thank You, Jesus!

Gluten-Free Shortbread and My Make-Believe Cottage

I love to bake. Shortbread cookies are probably my favorite cookie of all the cookies. For a million years I used the recipe from my Betty Crocker cookbook, then began to experiment and made a few changes that I thought made it the best shortbread ever.

And, then, I learned that wheat and my body weren’t friends, anymore. I made a couple attempts at GF shortbread, but they were too disappointing. I just gave them up.

Until Columbus Day 2018. (Cue the angelic chorus.)

I was looking for a Ricotta Pie recipe and the recipe I settled on suggested a cookie crust. I did a quick search, and found a recipe that read like a winner. It sounded almost exactly like my own. I did not follow her ingredients exactly, though I did use her instructions.  I will give you the link to the original recipe, and post my ingredients here.

I tell you, the cookie was so good it resurrected an old dream in my make-believe world, where I live in a cottage on a rocky seacoast somewhere, and bake shortbread cookies for the world.


The Best Gluten-Free Shortbread

Here is the original recipe: How to Make the Best Gluten-Free Shortbread. Her tips are very good, so be sure to read the whole thing.

Here is my ingredient list:

  • 1 1/3 + 1/2 cup Bob’s Red Mill Gluten Free 1 to 1 Baking Flour
  • 1/2 cup cornstarch cup cornstarch (2 ounces/ 56 grams)
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
  • 14 tablespoons butter, softened (7 ounces; 198 grams)
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar (5 1/4 ounces; 148 grams)

The finished product was beautiful.

2018-10-10 20.03.21

Next time, I will try some flavor variations. I know shortbread isn’t for everyone, but to me there’s just nothing better.


My Make-Believe Cottage

2018-10-11 21.46.19b

I found this pictures over 20 years ago at a yard sale in Whittier, California. It was love at first sight. You can see it’s decrepit—the frame is barely holding together, and the paper image is worn and dirty. I’m sure I paid more than it was ever worth—I think five dollars—but I wanted that little cottage. I had to make it my own. When I look at this picture, I’m right there. The Saxophone Player is on the porch with a cup of coffee, and the zinnias in the back yard are doing beautifully.

Do you have a make-believe cottage?

Take Ten

“Friendly suggestions are as pleasant as perfume.”
Proverbs 27:9 (TLB)


I think it’s important for everyone to give themselves a break.

Literally, give yourself ten minutes to do nothing. No matter how busy your life is, how behind schedule you are, how much is left on your list—give yourself permission to take a break.

  • No media.
  • No reading.
  • No phone calls.
  • No text messages.
  • No thinking.
  • No talking.
  • No worries.
  • No excuses.
  • No guilt.

Just rest. Close your eyes. Quiet your mind. Take a power nap. Count your breaths. Put your feet up, or stand outside. No walking, though, because that’s too much like exercise.

If you want a cup of something or glass of another, have it ready before you go. No pouring or stirring allowed on this break.

Then, just stop your work, and walk away. (It will all be there, when you get back.) Don’t make a big to-do of it, just tell the world you’re on your ten.

2018-04-27 12.09.57

I’m a big fan of productivity and hard work, but sometimes we just need a break. We need a breather. And, we need not feel like we’re doing something naughty, because we shut our eyes for two minutes. Did you know that just a ten-minute nap can boost your energy and focus for hours? Yet, instead of giving ourselves permission to stop, we make ourselves keep pressing-on. I admire persistence and perseverance, but we need to allow ourselves to step away and tune out.

Hope you’ll consider this friendly advice. 🙂

 

Our Little Bubba

I am blessed to have two grandchildren, a Lucy and an Isaac. Today, Isaac is seven-months old.

When his sister was born, her eyes popped open and she began looking around, taking everything in—it was fascinating!

On the other hand, when he was born he barely opened his eyes, but started chattering. He had so much to say to his Mama! And, he hasn’t stopped talking.

Isaac really is a bouncing, baby boy. When he gets excited, his arms and legs get moving like one of those pull toy with a string that makes the dolls legs and arms pop-up.

Isaac brings smiles and laughter everywhere he goes. His joyful heart is contagious. He lives up to his name.

Happy Seven-Months, Little Isaac. ❤

2018-03-28 19.07.39

Being His Help Meet

“The heart of her husband safely trusts her; so he will have no lack of gain.” (Proverbs 31:11)

There is a lot that can be said of spiritual accountability. There are a lot of ways we find accountability within the Body of Christ: between pastor and congregant, between co-laborers, between fellow church members—to name but a few. There are formal accountability relationships, and there is that more casual accountability we expect from everyone within the Body. It’s a huge topic, with lots of room for discussion, debate, and disagreement.

However, I am limiting the focus here to one accountability relationship that exists for every married*, Christian couple: the spiritual accountability between a husband and wife. More to the point, the responsibility a wife has before God to hold her husband accountable to the Word of the Lord. We are not to be one another’s correctional officers, and we are not to be the Holy Spirit’s conviction (not that we could be), but we do have an accountability before God for the one whom the Lord says should safely trust in us.


IN THE BEGINNING

I think it is vitally important to the Body of Christ—to every Christian marriage—that wives walk in the vital role God has given them: being a help meet for their husband. In fact, I believe many broken marriages, as well as much of the spiritual compromise in the church today, can be traced back to wives who neglected this responsibility.

Pardon me, while I duck for cover.

I realize that on the surface my statements may sound harsh or unfair. It will probably sound especially cruel and unkind to the wife who is suffering under the burden of her husband’s habitual sinfulness. However, one should not presume I hold a wife responsible for her husband’s choice to sin against God. Never. Perish the thought! He is a freewill agent. However, too many women raise their hands in despair at the thought of their husband’s transgressions. They play the role of victim, instead of walking in the role Christ has given them. They lament his sin, but are unwilling to rise up like Abigail to stop them. And, honestly, I don’t blame the modern, Christian woman. Who has ever preached a sermon on Abigail, except Ernie Kajala? Who is talking to wives about being a help meet? It sounds like something straight out of the 17th century. Who believes in help meets anymore? Well, I do. It’s the first calling God gave to women, and He is still calling wives to be help meets today.

This subject is so much bigger than this blog post can handle, so I will only touch on one aspect of being a help meet: accountability.  I hope I will be able to share enough to exhort and encourage any Christian wife who may be reading this, looking for a way to help her struggling husband—or, just striving to be a more godly wife. God has entrusted wives with a very important role to play in their husband’s lives, but He has also given them tremendous power with which to do it.  I truly believe that any wife who will embrace the responsibility of being a help meet to her husband will see her life, husband, marriage, and family transformed for the glory of God. Truly, we ignore this aspect of being his help meet at our own peril. It may be his spiritual life, but it is our marriage. Our family. Our life. Do you want to lose it, or are you willing to do whatever it takes to save it?

IN HIS OWN WORDS

We have all seen the woman standing beside her husband at the podium, listening as he confesses to the world his transgressions. Often, these are political couples, but there have been far too many ministry couples in that very same position. Of such scandals in recent history, one ministry couple stands out to me, and the wife’s words are telling.

I am speaking of Ted and Gayle Haggard. In 2005, Time magazine called Ted Haggard one of the most influential evangelical Christians in the country, but a year later he would face the pain and shame of having his secret life brought into the light.

It wasn’t only his secret life on display, though. The eyes of the world were focused on her husband, but I was only paying attention to her. The wife. I watched her. I waited to see what she would do. While some pitied her, feeling indignant on her behalf, I asked, “Didn’t she know? How could she not? Why didn’t she do anything about it?”

In a televised interview** three years after the headlines broke the news of his hidden life to the world, Brother Ted shared that he had prayed repeatedly for God to do whatever it took to stop him from continuing down this road. He says he promised God: “Never again.”

In reading the article written about the interview, it is clear our Brother was in a hard battle. He came into marriage sexually broken by abuse from his childhood, but his efforts to seek spiritual counsel never addressed that brokenness.

Does the abuse from his childhood excuse his sinful choices? Absolutely not. Did the fact his attempts to seek help lead nowhere pardon his guilt? No. Brother Ted broke the laws of man and God. And, the consequence of his sinful choices brought a tremendous amount of trouble to his family and to the Christian church.

IN HER OWN WORDS

Ted Haggard’s story isn’t an original. We’ve heard it over, and over, and over. Unfortunately, his wife’s story is familiar, too.

In the same interview, and in a subsequent interview*** conducted after her book, Why I Stayed, was published, Gayle Haggard said she had known of her husband’s struggle since early in their marriage, but “assumed” it was under control.

When Ted confesses his guilt to her, after the news broke, she said, “I can’t think of anything that would have been a greater shock.”

Where was the accountability!?

I actually think Ted and Gayle would appreciate my using them as an example, because I believe they know there was a breakdown of accountability in their relationship. At least that is what is indicated in things I have read. I do not know them personally, but I believe Gayle when she describes herself as naive. I would say most wives are probably just as naive. She said he had told her about a non-contact, sexual encounter with another man, but she had not understood the gravity of what he was saying.

Honestly, my heart goes out to my Sister. She was a bride in the ’80’s. There was little to no ministry for anyone struggling with sexual brokenness in the 1980’s. Who could they have gone to for help? She says she prayed for her husband, and went on with life. This was after the birth of the third of their five children. She had a lot on her plate. Holding her husband accountable wasn’t something she even considered.

And, it should be noted, anyone living with a habitual sin is going to become a very good liar. The strength of their ability to deceive others is what allows their behavior to continue for so long.

IN MY OWN WORDS

Doug and I moved back to the East Coast just in time to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary in the city where we were married, Boston, Massachusetts. We couldn’t afford to stay at the same hotel we had stayed in for our honeymoon, but I found a very good substitute. I was so excited. A weekend away with the love of my life in the city of our dreams. It couldn’t get any better for me.

Yet, for Doug, it seemed things couldn’t be any worse. I kept feeling like I had to cheer him up, prod him on. He didn’t seem very happy. I didn’t understand. In truth, this was how he was normally, but I thought on our 10th anniversary, away in Boston, staying in this really cool place, that he’d be a little happier.

I wouldn’t find out that weekend, but soon after I learned the reason behind his bad mood, behind all of his bad moods, and the night he finally explained was a very long and painful one. It was the night my husband confessed he had been living in secret sin.

Like Gayle, I had known of his struggles. I knew very well. And, like Gayle, I “assumed” that since his last “confession” everything was fine. I didn’t know I had a responsibility to hold my husband spiritually accountable. I didn’t even understand what that meant.

Instead of seeing my part in his failure, I got mad. I cried. I yelled. I accused. I threatened. I did everything wrong. Especially, when dealing with someone in addiction and brokenness. I didn’t know better, that’s for sure. I had a few lessons to learn. Yet, the worst thing about it all was that I lacked the spiritual strength to stand against the Enemy’s assault. I was so compromised in my own walk that faith could not rise up. Friends, it is much easier to point a finger of blame, than it is to conduct a rescue mission when our husband has sailed off course. It takes real spiritual muscle to grab someone out of the grip of sin.

As I said earlier, we are not one another’s correctional officers, and we are not to be the Holy Spirit’s conviction, but we should be making a deep, spiritual investment in the lives of the one whom the Lord has brought us into the most intimate of relationships. That spiritual investment is vital, if we are going to be able to support them as a help meet. It is also the groundwork we must lay, before we can hold our husband’s accountable.

BIBLICAL ACCOUNTABILITY

Someone on Twitter shared a list of rules a girlfriend has written up for her boyfriend. It was a very strict list of things he could not do, she would not do, and he had to do. I read it and felt sorry for any man who would submit to that kind of woman. Everything on her list was born from fear—fear he would be unfaithful, fear she wasn’t good enough, fear of being mistreated, etc. It was really sad. I felt sorry for her, too.

Trying to hold our husbands accountable by controlling them is not biblical accountability. Controlling your husband’s behavior will not help him become a godly man, or bring him freedom from sin. It won’t bring the fearful wife peace of mind, either. She is counting on herself, not God. That’s a fatal mistake. If we are not willing to give God control, we are denying His sovereignty over our lives and our marriage. We are hindering our husband’s spiritual growth.  We are denying the fact that he has an independent relationship with God, and that God loves him much more than we do—He has much more invested in him, and is much more wanting him to walk in righteousness. The controlling behavior is born out out of fear, and where fear rules faith cannot. I tell wives they don’t have to trust their husbands, but they do have to trust God. For most of us, we just are not walking close enough to the Lord for the job He has given us as help meet. Wives want the fix to all be on his side. He’s the one with the problem. He’s the one who needs help who needs to change. Well, he’s the one you married, sweetheart. And, God custom made you to be his help meet.

Accountability is important in our house. We believe we need to hold one another accountable, and as Christians we hold each other accountable to the Word of God. The Bible is our standard. And, that’s challenging! After I learned of this secret life of sin Doug lived, the first thing God told me to do was to minister to him. Minister to him? But, God, I’m the victim. I’m the one hurting here. God saw things differently, and I had a choice: see it God’s way, or try to go it on my own.

Well, I knew I couldn’t go it on my own. And, I feared disobeying God. The Bible is very clear that we are to obey God, so there was no way I could ignore His directive.

I don’t like that my husband came into marriage with sexual brokenness, and I have failed 500,000 times at being a godly help meet to him. However, the times I have been able to serve him well have only brought a blessing to my life, my marriage, and my family. More importantly, though, he is a transformed man. He is not the man I celebrated ten years of marriage with, and he’s not even the man I married again after 26 years. Years and years ago, God gave me a vision of who the Saxophone Player was called to be, and I have seen that vision come to life. That has been God’s work in his life, and his yielding to the Potter’s hand, but I know I have played a small part in who he is today. I am so thankful for a God who takes the broken and makes them whole. It is a process that will likely take our entire life on earth, and still not be completed until Heaven, but we must remember this life on earth is fleeting. As long as it might be, it is only a blink of the eye compared to the eternity we have before us. We must also remember that God is using our husbands to perfect Himself in us. Not every wife will marry a man with the same challenges, but every wife is still called to help her husband meet God’s expectations for his life. He may be a dandy fellow with no secret sin, but is he serving God in his community? Is he leading his family as the priest of his home? Is he laying up treasures in Heaven, or only on earth? Or, is he so busy working for the Lord he is not caring well for his relationships with his children, or family? I don’t know your husband, I don’t know God’s call on his life, but you do. As his wife, the Lord has entrusted you with this responsibility. Embrace it. He will help you accomplish it. He will help you learn to surrender to Him and walk closer to Him and trust Him more than what you see with your own eyes.

LET’S REVIEW

  1. Christian wives are called to be their husband’s help meet.
  2. Part of being his help meet means holding him accountable to God’s Word.
  3. We must have a strong, intimate relationship with the Lord in order to do this.
  4. Faith must rule us, not fear.
  5. Seeing our husbands surrendered and submitted to the control of the Holy Spirit should be our objective, not trying to control them ourselves.
  6. God cares about our husbands more than we do, and has a much more vested interest in his victory over sin.
  7. It takes obedience to serve our husbands as their help meet. God will equip us and lead us in doing this, if we will obey Him

I pray God bless any wife who is reading this. God will lead you and help you as you seek to obey Him in being a help meet to your husband.


*There are some important relevant differences between married and unmarried Christian couples where spiritual accountability is concerned, but that is a subject for another post.

**On January 31, 2009, Ted and Gayle Haggard were interviewed by Oprah Winfrey. LINK

***In January 2010, Gayle Haggard was interviewed again by OprahWinfrey. LINK

We’re Not Only Human

As I was putting dinner in the oven tonight (roast chicken, in case you were wondering), I began to reconsider sharing this post. I fear people being offended. I fear people thinking the wrong thing. But, the Holy Spirit nudged me along. Keep going, Caroline. This isn’t for you.

That means it might be for you.


Oy.

I’m challenged by this call. Sometimes, more than other times. However, there’s no turning back. I mean, frankly, Doug and I have had that conversation more than once. Each time, we know. We know before the conversation even begins. I suppose that’s why we find ourselves seeking the Lord for confirmation about once a year: Are we really in Your will, Lord? Did we really hear You right? Even though this happened, and that happened, and this one is mad at us, and we screwed up over here?

It has been a long summer. Doug and I look at each other some times with a weariness that is really almost comical. Last week, one our leaders was sharing a prayer need, and then he suddenly stopped and said, “You know, this ministry is just really hard.” I started laughing. Pretty soon, another leader was laughing with me. Yeah! It’s HARD. You put your whole heart out there, just to have people smash it in your face. You pick up the pieces, pray for them, and go back and do it, again. Love, acceptance, and forgiveness rule the day. Day after day after day. We trust God has our back, and He always does. One day, we hope, we’ll get to stand in His presence and find out we did at least one thing right.

In January of 2005, our first Winter on this mission field, the Holy Spirit gave me a sort of vision. This was a critical time for us. We had been living by faith for only a short time, and New Brother’s Fellowship had only just begun. Yet, we were really in a hard place financially. It was embarrassing. I’d never seen my refrigerator and cupboards so empty. Every day, I would ask the Lord to help me make a meal for my family, and every day He did, but it was hard for me. I’d been living a pretty cushy life, until then. 

We described our life back then as though the Holy Spirit had said, “Do you see that cliff?”

Yes, Lord.

“Well,” He’d replied, “I want to go right to the edge.”

Oh, that’s scary, but OK, Lord. We’ll do it. We made our way to that edge, faith-filled, and even eager to have this chance to respond to such a specific call on our lives. Putting our fears behind us, we made it right to the edge and breathed a deep sigh of relief. We smiled at one another, even felt a bit accomplished. Squeezed each other’s hands. We did it!

Then, the Holy Spirit completed His instructions.

“OK. Great, Doug and Caroline. Thank you. You’re in the right position now to do what I’m asking you to do.”

But, Lord, we did it. We’re here, on the edge. Livin’ on the edge! See?

“No, My will is there.” He pointed down, over the edge. “You’ll have to jump.”

It was safety and security, or free fall. All these years later, we’re still in free fall. We had no choice.


One day, I am going to stand before the Lord. Oh! The thought makes my heart race and eyes fill with tears. Just imagine it, my friends. Jesus. Face to foot—well, there’s no way I’ll be able to stand and look Him in the face, you know? I’ll be at His dear, wounded feet, washing them with my tears of gladness and gratitude. In that moment, I’ll be regretting the spit I ran from, the hurt I refused to suffer. I’ll be wishing I’d been entrusted with more suffering for His name’s sake. The fullness of His sacrifice for me will suddenly be real, and I can only imagine what that will mean to me, but I think these moments of trials and frustration and trouble will become like steam from my tea cup—gone away in a moment.

Doug wrote a status on Facebook recently that was spot on:

“At what point did you think it was going to feel good to reckon yourself Crucified with Christ?” (Doug Gregan)

I really want it to feel good right now. I want my life to be easy. Comfortable. I like easy. I like soft and cushy. 

Yet, I want Jesus! I want more of Him, and so much less of me, and that means I need to stop keeping me alive. I have to stop feeding my flesh, so that it dies away. That’s hard, but if I’m already trusting Him to give me a safe landing one day, I should be able to trust Him with all of me.

Yes, this past summer has been kinda hard. Heck, these past two-and-a-half years have been kinda hard. I think something about turning 50 just started messing with me. The reality of this life my husband and I live really smashed me in the face. What are we doing? While other people our age are planing for their retirement, Doug and I are living one day at a time, counting on the Lord to bring the balance to our accounts and help us get by until then. This is not the life I expected, and it’s not the life I wanted.

Wanted. Past tense. You see, it really is the life I want now, because it’s the life God has given us. My solution to the challenge is to just stop being so human. I’m not just a woman of flesh. I am called to reckon myself dead, and to let the life of Christ live through me. That’s the spiritual life I should be living every day. You read my blog, so you know I’m not succeeding in doing that, but I will go to bed relying on His mercies and wake-up trusting in His grace. It’s all I can do. 


This is a snippet from a great message on this subject that Doug preached on Easter this year. It speaks to exactly the matter I’ve discussed here. God bless you all who are struggling to reckon yourselves dead to this life. It’s not easy, but His mercy and grace is there for you, too. 

Saturday Evening Post: 10/6/18

Eh.

  • Mexican Cornbread Pie for dinner.  LINK
  • We have bats in our attic. Isn’t that funny?
  • Disrespect and the ministry kind of go hand-in-hand. It’s annoying. Purposeful, but annoying.
  • An old friend once said, “We need our stuff, because it’s how our children know they’re home.”  I loved that. I wonder what stuff Hannah recognizes as home; what Lucy and Isaac will recognize as their Grandma Gregan’s home?
  • Truth: I have a stupid string of colored Christmas lights hanging on my bedroom wall.
  • Over the summer, I developed a raging case of eczema. I am going crazy in stages.
  • I would like to make slipcovers for my furniture. No, I don’t know how, but I would like to try.
  • My garden this year was such a bust, that I may not garden, again. I just didn’t have it in me. And, I’m really a very bad gardener. I grow plants, but they don’t bear much fruit.
  • We’ve been watching The Durrells in Corfu. So far, it’s pleasant. Beautiful location, wherever they filmed. Reminds me of Doc Martin in some ways – the music, the lighting, the quirky characters, etc.
  • Better to live in a tent in the wild, than with a cross and petulant spouse.
    Proverbs 21:19 (Message) Oy.
  • We are grabby, we humans. We think we know, but we don’t. Pride blinds us, and fear binds us.
  • I miss my California friends. They’re the only reason I wouldn’t hate moving back to California.

I love this video of Lucy.

Chatty Isaac. 🙂

I did achieve one garden goal: growing tomatoes for Lucy to pick. They were not tasty tomatoes at all – very tough skin – but she did have fun picking them! The two pictures on the right look almost identical, but they aren’t—you can see her little tooth indentations in the second one. LOL

This picture is only a month old, but he’s grown so much since then.

2018-09-04 19.16.09

She loved playing in the dirt. The sunflowers were fun, but the drought made it hard for them to thrive.

My zinnias thrived, even the one that grew crooked in order to reach the sun.

A Short Story

Looking through some old files, I found this bit of fiction. Sharing quickly, and as is—before I edit it to death or think about it twice.


THAI FOOD

“Let’s not make it too easy for her. Remember, she doesn’t know half what she’ll know twenty years from then.”

“Well, sure, but we can’t make her too dumb. No one wants to read about an idiot.”

“She was kinda of an idiot, though.”

Her eyes were squinty, and one side of her mouth curled up. She wasn’t budging.

“I guess heroes don’t have to be brilliant.”

Her face relaxed.

“Good.”

He shook his head. This wasn’t going to work. Heavy sigh. He wanted so much for it to work. Focus, man. Stay focused.

“Did we choose their names, yet?”

“No. I’m still playing with that.”

“OK. Well, I think it’s time for a break. How about some dinner?”

She smiled slowly, hers lips closed. That was a sign. He knew he could get her to leave the office. Well, it was an office of sorts. More a closet, but they didn’t need much room. And, it was free.

“Where should we go?”

“I’m feeling like Thai.”

“Really? Hmm. Curry, coconut milk, rice? I’m not sure.” He rolled it around in his head while she began to guide them down the street to the little Thai restaurant tucked in between the pizza shop and beauty parlor. It was a grey day, with the wind blowing in gusts. Was it cold enough for snow? She could only hope.

Inside, they made their way to a little table in the corner. As he draped his coat over his seat, he finally decided. “OK. Let’s have Thai. That sounds good.” She smiled that smile. He blushed.

Ordering was easy. The lunch specials came quickly. Sitting and eating together, though, took a long time. As long as possible. He relished every minute.

“Will we go back to work?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to get at it again.”

“We’ve barely even started.”

“No, it’s all starting. It’s all part of the process, don’t you think?”

“We haven’t typed the first word.”

“We’ve typed thousands.”

“Those words have been deleted.”

“Isn’t that part of the process? Part of this wonderful process?” She looked at him, then turned her head quickly to find the waitress. He looked down at his empty tea cup, then up into her waiting eyes. “Are you discouraged?”

“No.”

The waitress arrived.

“Could we get a fresh pot of tea, please?”

“I don’t want to fail.”

“Fail? Why, you’ve never failed anything, Mr. Johnson.”

“What are we going to call her?”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking about it. Nothing is good enough.”

“We could call her Betsy.”

She looked at him with squinty eyes, and tilted her head to one side. This meant she was confused.

“I don’t think so.”

After another pot of tea, they left a generous tip and stepped out into the night. It was colder now. The walk back to the office was faster. It started to sleet. He tried to hold the bag of leftover over her head, to keep it dry, but that didn’t work very well.

The other offices were closed for the night, so they moved into the lobby. She slipped off her shoes and curled up in a chair, and he sat across from her on the sofa. They each held laptops, but he was the writer. She had the final say about what stayed, but he gave the words life.

“You know how much it means to me, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“How long can you stay tonight?”

He looked around for a clock.

“It’s seven now.”

“I guess I can stay until ten. Is that OK?”

“That’s great.”

“I can’t work tomorrow, though. I have a class.”

“I know. It’s Tuesday. Every Tuesday, every Thursday.”

“Next semester, my schedule will be a little busier. They offered me two more classes.”

“Really? I guess the students like you.”

“I think they do. Surprising, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.”

“I like them, too, I confess. I didn’t think I would.”

“Any favorites?”

He had a hard time answering that one. He looked down and said, “One or two.”

“Teacher’s pets.”

“No. No. Nothing like that.”

She got up to check the heat. “It’s cold tonight. Do you mind, if I turn it up?”

“No. Not at all. Do you want my sweater?”

“No, I’ll be OK. Thanks.”

She tucked herself back into the chair. They sat in the quiet for a moment. Sleet was hitting the windows. The sounds of January.

She finally broke the silence. “Maybe, this is a mistake.”

He looked at her. She was staring at the floor.

“Maybe, her story shouldn’t be told. Maybe, it’s not my place to tell it. I hardly even knew her. Who am I to think I have the right?” She was looking up now, looking at him for an answer. What was he going to say? What could he say? The thought of not doing this was the last thing he wanted to consider. He said what he thought he was supposed to say.

“Maggie, I’ll support whatever you decide.”

Her searching eyes turned cold.

“You sound like my father.” She put her feet down and looked away from him.

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” He sat the machine beside him and leaned forward.

“I don’t know. Tell me not to stop.”

“Well, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that?” She looked back at him now, with her squinty eyes and titled head.

“Because. How can I? It’s not my place.”

“Of course, it’s your place. That’s why I hired you, to make it your place.”

She stared down at her feet. He stared down at her feet, too. She buried her head in her hands. In a second’s time, he played the most tender and romantic scene in his head, and then came back to reality.

“Come on.”

She looked up at him.

“Come on.” He repeated himself, with a little urgency in his tone. “We have a job to do. It’s a story worth telling. That’s why I’m here. Come on.”

She leaped up from her chair and flew across to him, planting a kiss on his cheek as she hugged his neck.

“Oh, thank you, Roger. Thank you so much.”

Easy Chocolate Shell Recipe

Now, when I say this is easy, I mean you can make this recipe with one hand tied behind your back and your eyes closed. It’s really easy!

2018-08-20 02.12.02

EASY CHOCOLATE SHELL

 1/2 cup milk chocolate chips  
 1 level tablespoon refined coconut oil 

1) Place chips and coconut oil in a microwave safe container.
2) Heat on high for 20 seconds.
3) Stir.
4) Repeat steps 2 and 3, until smooth and combined.
5) Store in the refrigerator a small canning jar, or other microwave-safe container. Reheat as above, 20 seconds at a time.

I’ve only made this once, but it came out really well. Even the Saxophone Player liked it. I like the fact it uses coconut oil, instead of shortening. I think that pretty much makes it health food, right? 😉 

FYI: This is an adaptation of the recipe in the video below, which uses dark chocolate. I didn’t have dark chocolate on hand, so I used milk chocolate. Knowing milk chocolate has a higher fat content, I adjusted the chocolate to oil ratio. If you like the coconut smell, you can use unrefined coconut oil. 

 

Saturday Evening Post 8/18/18

There are certain things I am just not going to do anymore.

Overall, my yard this year is a bit of a wild mess. Not a lot to share, but I wouldn’t want to season to pass without mentioning it.

  • The weather has been very hot and humid. Reminds me of summer in Ohio.
  • Rain has been helpful. Hopefully, it helps relieve this drought, but for now watering is only allowed two evenings a week.
  • Had already planned to keep the garden small, but I am very glad I listened to a friend who said, “Just go throw some seeds out, anyway. Go on!” As a result, I have two tomato and four summer squash plants. No tomatoes or squash, yet, but that’s OK. At least something is growing.
  • Doug planted some more pintos this year, and they are doing great. I think he’ll actually have enough for a pot of beans. Well, a small pot.
  • I did plant lots of flowers—over 20 zinnias and several sunflowers. They are doing very well!
  • I have a wild tomato. It comes back year after year. It’s kind of a crazy thing. And, it’s more than one plant. In fact, one day I thought I was pulling out weeds, but it was actually a bunch of seedlings all growing together. I managed to separate the roots and have eight more tomato plants.
2018-08-15 15.06.01

My wild tomato.

 

  • Last week I tossed some green onion seeds and marigold seeds in some dirt. They’re coming along. I don’t know what chance the marigolds have of blooming before the first frost.

    2018-08-15 15.06.54 HDR

    Green onion seedlings. So delicate!

  • I have three other pots with some good soil that are begging for life. I was thinking I’d plant something hardy that will survive the Autumn cold. Any suggestions? Kale comes to mind. It likes the cold. My parsley lived well past frost last year. Maybe, I try that.
  • One bit of fancifying to the garden this year: Doug redid the border for my flower bed. It looks so nice!

Though we haven’t had the time to play in the garden much, we do get to play in it with Lucy more. That’s pretty awesome. She doesn’t mind the untrimmed edges and overgrown grass. She doesn’t notice the weeds. She always loves to look at the flowers and give them a sniff. Then, she’ll grab the flower head with her little fist to pick it. She is a charming brute with those little buds.

 

P.S. This little guy isn’t playing outside this summer, but as active as he is at five-months, I’m guessing he’ll be running around soon!