48 hours

Yesterday our family was told that we would have 48 hours left with my grandpa. My mom held his hand as he lay frail, shriveled, and unresponsive in a bed at a North Carolina nursing home. But then in the dark, early hours of this morning, Grandpa went home to be with Jesus. Our family is now left with 48 hours to plan his memorial service.

Death and grieving have become an all too familiar part of life these past few months. I find myself dealing with Grandpa's death in a way that I don't fully comprehend. The tears stopped flowing this morning as I lay in my husband's arms, but the memories of Grandpa are coursing like a strong and steady current through my mind. I spent the majority of the first half of the day searching in vain for a particular photo of Grandpa smiling and looking full of life and charm. I'm happy that the photo is etched in my mind, but right now I want it in my hand!

My favorite memory of my grandfather took place about a year and a half ago. In fact, I already wrote a blog about it (Ready to Fly). At the tail end of a mountain road trip, some friends and I visited my grandfather at his North Carolina home. There was something special about that day. It was the most tender experience I have ever shared with my grandfather. Somehow, he was gentle and fragile to me for the first time in my life that day. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly his 89-year-old eyes could see me as I sat there, but I know that those eyes had a depth and sincerity that were more real to me than anything else in the world at that moment as he told me again and again that he loved me.

Then Gramps said something that I wasn't at all expecting to hear. Gripping my hand, he turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped beating in my chest. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from instantly welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?

I stifled a sob and replied, "Okay, Grandpa." He squeezed my hand again and said, "When I get to heaven...I'm going to be a lot younger. Like 80...or maybe 60...like Jesus!" And I had to laugh! "Grandpa," I corrected with a smile, "Jesus was only 33 when He went back to heaven...not 60!" Gramps looked at me with a slight look of surprise and said, "Well honey, I'm old. I can't remember these things!" And we laughed together at his innocent mistake.

That memory and hundreds of others are at the forefront of my thoughts today. Paul Nemec wasn't just some 90-year-old man that died today. He was, to me, the spiritual head of our entire family. He started out as "Little Paulie," a poor kid playing football and getting into trouble on the streets of Chicago, and grew into a man of strength and integrity with a wealth of knowledge and wisdom who worked hard to share the Truth of the Gospel with as many people as he could get to listen to him. He leaves behind a beautiful legacy in the form of a family who shares that same faith in Christ that was so central and essential to his life.

Tonight I wish I could sit there at Grandpa's feet and hold his soft, fragile hands just one more time. Or I wish that I could sit at his kitchen table while he cooked up a perfect, Chicago-style hot dog just for me! I want to see again that twinkle that would appear in his eyes when he knew he had just said something that he really shouldn't have. I want to smell the stinky scent of the cigars he used to smoke, in spite of all of our protests. I want to hear his big band music playing loudly from the back bedroom. I want to hear his joke about buying chairs for the standing army just one more time.

I know Gramps is with Jesus now and that the twinkle is there in his eyes as he greets the many men and women whose lives he touched and poured the love of Christ into. His broken hip is healed now and I'm sure he's ballroom dancing with Granny, his first love. And I know that one day I'll see my grandpa again.

More than anything else, I know that Jesus is happy to have "Little Paulie" at home with Him at last.

the beginning or the end?

Tonight was the last meeting of a church ministry that has been my home away from home for the last four years or so. It was a night of reminiscing, remembering, smiling and laughing, crying, hugging, thanking, and recognizing. It was our last meeting as a group, but was it the end of an era...or a new beginning?

I heard about Revolution, a discipleship-based (home group based) ministry geared toward young, single and married adults, through the newspaper at my church but it took me months to work up the nerve to actually attend a group where I knew no one. Talk about stepping out of my comfort zone!

As much as I knew I was in need of an area to get "plugged in" at my super-sized megachurch, I also knew that I was overly shy when it came to the thought of walking into a room of strangers and trying to form new friendships without at least one friend there with me as my crutch.

I finally visited Revolution. I felt uncomfortable, out of place, and isolated. I went again. Same feeling. I wasn't liking it, but I kept going back. In a way, I guess you could say that I made a deal with God.

"Lord, I'll keep going until I get plugged into a home group and I'll see how that goes. That's all I'm committing to for now..."

Well, I signed up for a home group and thus began the longest year of my life as I sat on a waiting list and sporadically attended the weekly group meetings with much trepidation and reservation.

And then it happened. Through a "slight miscommunication," an email circulated that an all girls Bible study, led by Christie and Angela, would begin the following week at MY house! I figured I had better attend. And so I did. For the next couple of years...

That home group, which I eventually began to co-lead, would change my life. Through a series of newly formed friendships, heart-to heart talks, discipleship and accountability, my walk with Christ went from good and strong to amazing and contagious! I met friends who not only loved Christ and talked about Him on Sundays and at Bible study meetings, but actually lived like Him on a daily basis.

Parts of my heart that had never before been awakened were suddenly drawn out and developed. I fell in love with being a servant of the King and I tapped into the power of prayer in a way that I had never experienced before.

I came to Revolution over four years ago, knowing no one and feeling lost. I am leaving with a family of close friends that is too large to count and a support network that I know will continue to uplift me and pray for me even as I move away to the other corner of the country to start my life with the husband that I met through this very ministry.

To me, this isn't the end of a ministry or the end of incredible memories made. It's the beginning. In the words of our leader Casey, we've been sheep in constant need of feed and care and now it's our turn to become the shepherds who go out and care for our own flocks. I'm leaving Revolution armed with more tools for service and spiritual growth than I could have thought possible at this point in my life.

It's my prayer that Dan and I will take what we have learned and transfer it to our own personal ministry as man and wife....that tonight would be the beginning of something far greater and far more beautiful than we've ever imagined...

Gideon

You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands. Judges 7:2

I have always loved the story of Gideon in the Bible. It's truly remarkable to see how God delivers His people in the least expected ways! Today, my daily devotional book led me to revisit the Old Testament story of when Gideon was about to face an army of enemies and God repeatedly commanded him to reduce the number of his own army by the thousands! The devotional went on to give a powerful charge to let my vulnerability be the occasion for God's power.

Yea. Easier said than done.

There's nothing easy or comfortable about the Christian life. It's the road less traveled, the beauty less obvious, the painful climb to a summit glorious. It seems pretty clear to me that God is more visible, more glorified, more desired and needed in our moments of weakness and frailty. Why then would He pass up an opportunity to bring us to a point where we see our need for Him? The tough part is, He often doesn't.

I, in my human flesh, am so short-sighted that I'm rarely able to see beyond my own nose and recognize that I simply CAN'T do it on my own...whatever "it" is. I think I speak for all humanity when I say that we have a NEED for God and we have a NEED to be reminded on a painfully regular basis.

These last several weeks have been a painful lesson that I'm still in the process of learning. The basic Cliff's notes version is that God has been stripping away my army by the thousands, just as He did with Gideon. Now I'm left with just the few good men that God wants me to be equipped with and we're facing giants together. Armed with little ourselves, we're rich with the power of God and it's now abundantly clear that He and He ALONE will lead us to victory over our enemies.

Now to abandon the analogy and speak plainly about the hardcore reality of what I'm talking about, I have been literally (or verbally) battling for some time now about the changes that are destined to occur in the midst of my getting married. With my job disintegrating by the minute, no new job in site, outrageous wedding expenses, and now moving expenses (yes, it's official - we'll be moving to Seattle after the wedding)...I am for the first time in my life completely broken financially and at the mercy of God's hand alone to provide for me. I've always been financially stable "on my own" (I think God just laughed at me) and it's not easy for me to be in this place. But I know God has brought me here and He has great plans for me here.

At first I was somewhat angry and indignant to find myself here in this place of vulnerability and utter dependence. I never thought I'd be bringing NOTHING financially to the table at the start of my marriage. I wanted to bring more of a bonus than a burden to Dan's finances. I see now that God wants to show me that He and HE ALONE can provide for my needs and for the needs of my upcoming marriage. He has led me to this place so that I will see how great His love is for me.

God saw that I had too many "men" to feel the need for My Deliverer and so He is stripping me of my own resources so that I can rely more fully on Him for my every need. He's pulling me into His lap as His child and caring for me as my Father.

The Lord has already blessed me with the desire of my heart in giving me a godly husband in Dan. How can I do anything but trust that He will continue to take care of me beyond my wildest expectations?

from muddy to majestic

I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest -- I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm." Psalm 55:6-8

I say this fairly often, but the thing that I love most about reading David's Psalms is reading his words of distress and anguish. His words are so raw in the Psalms as he cries out to God in his pain. You can hear the unveiled fear in his voice. You can imagine his lip quivering as he holds back the tears and shakes his fist at the Most High in a desperate plea for his Savior to come to his rescue. Knowing that David was called "a man after God's own heart" and knowing that he was a man set apart by God to literally bring down a fierce giant of a warrior and rule over an entire nation, it makes me feel pretty good to know that he too had times of utter dependence on God and moments of complete weakness and frailty. If he had those moments, surely it's normal for little ol' me to have them too. *Sigh of relief.*

I love how as I read my devotions this morning, the book mentioned that God actually insists on our enduring suffering because it produces results that nothing else can accomplish. It's so true. It's in the midst of our grief and pain that we cling to Jesus Christ in a desperate, no-holds-barred kind of surrender. We don't do that when things are going fabulously and completely in our favor. Instead we become complacent and arrogant in our serenity.

There exists a unique beauty in being desperate. It's in those moments of desperation that we gain clarity because our eyes are finally open to the fact that we can't manage to live fully without Jesus Christ. We can get by in this life by maintaining a mediocre existence if we're dependent fully on ourselves, but we know the end result of a Godless life: certain death. In those times where we feel hopeless, those are the instances where we are made truly aware of where our hope lies -- in Christ and in Him alone!

And so how is it that we are to endure in the midst of suffering? When everything in our lives seems to be spiraling out of control, how are we supposed to persevere as the Scripture urges us to? My devotional book reminded me today

My friend and I just completed an endurance marathon called the Muddy Buddy. We trained for the race beforehand by running and biking as much as we could. Although we knew there would be obstacles to complete during the race, we didn't know ahead of time what type of obstacles we would be encountering exactly. All we could really do was prepare ourselves to endure whatever challenges we came up against.

When the day of the race finally arrived, we were surprised at how difficult it was. Biking and running through the sand was incredibly difficult. We never knew what obstacle we would have to complete at each transition point until we actually arrived there. At one transition station, it was a rock wall we had to climb. At another, we had to cross over a long balance beam. Each station was different. Pedal stroke after pedal stroke, one foot in front of the other, mile by mile we traversed through the sandy terrain and through the black, muddy pit at the end of the race to finally make it across the finish line. We were covered in black mud and our eyes were blinded by all of the dirt in our eyes, but volunteers awaited us and hosed us off so that we could finally see again. It was such a rush having completed such a difficult journey so victoriously!

That's how it works in a life dependent on Christ. We can't know ahead of time what obstacles or trials we will face as we round each bend in the winding path. We simply know that hard times will come up and that we will indeed suffer in the midst of them. It is in the process of enduring those trials and tribulations that we build eternal results as we learn to lean more dependently on Jesus Christ and rely less on our own strength mile by mile, one foot in front of the other. We will inevitably have to face the dark, muddy pit of humanity and pain and filth, but we will indeed reach the finish line. We have a Redeemer who washes us clean of all of the mud and the muck, who refreshes our soul after its long and weary journey. Our pain and suffering isn't in vain. It has a purpose that is rich with hope and grace. At the end of this endurance marathon called life awaits our Heavenly Father who will remove the dirt from our eyes so that we might finally see clearly and with eternal perspective. I can't wait...

gravity

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.

I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on the ground.
But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down.


I love music, but rarely do I take notice of the lyrics to most songs. Every once in awhile, a song will take hold of me and its lyrics will penetrate my psyche. That happened recently as I was driving home one night with my iPod playing. I played the song over and over again, letting the words resonate within my mind and saturate my thoughts. I don’t know what or who Sara Bareilles was thinking about when she wrote the song Gravity, but each time I listen to it…I hear a broken heart crying out to God. It sounds like the voice of the prodigal son who returned home to his father after coming to the end of his rope…or the voice of the adulteress who humbled herself before the feet of Jesus.

I hear my own voice crying out to a Holy God as I admit that I can’t do it on my own. I can’t make it through this life on my own feeble strength even though I sometimes fool myself into thinking that I’m stronger than I really am. No matter how often I try to stray from the course God has set before me, I find myself falling back into the strong, capable arms of a loving Savior.

My belief in God is as certain as my confidence in the law of gravity. It’s real and it’s always there and it affects every single aspect of my life. I can’t shake it. I can’t escape it. And I don’t want to.

finger paintings

My favorite part of each day comes just as the sun is setting. About that time, I usually make a point to be working out on the cardio machines which are located on the second floor of my gym. The view from the elliptical machines and treadmills is just perfect since they're directly across from the windows on the West side of the building. I watch each night as the sky changes from a pale blue to a dark purple streaked with different shades of golds, ambers, pinks, oranges, and grays. The colors morph and merge and mingle each night as I watch them...it’s almost like watching a slow dance. It's breathtakingly beautiful and incredibly romantic. I know it's God romancing my heart. He's pretty good at it. I picture God finger painting in the sky, creating this personal masterpiece for me to ooh and awe over as He calls me His Beloved.

I remember as a little girl sitting up at my dad's drafting table and watching him as he would paint with watercolors. With a little prodding, he would let me join him. He'd give me special paper and free reign over an expensive assortment of stunning, vibrant colors. I'd ask him the names of the different colors like cerulean blue and cadmium yellow and crimson red and I'd mix my own unique color combinations. In the end, my watercolors were never as organized or as beautiful as my dad's works of art, but to my mom they were worthy of display in the Louvre. She’d print a Bible verse on a transparency film and place it over my blended hues before framing them and finding a suitable spot on one of the living room or bedroom walls to hang them, proudly displayed for all who entered our home to see.

I have to wonder if life is full of creative moments like that. I wonder if when I’m serving God selflessly by doing a service project or helping a friend in need or something if those moments are so beautiful in God’s eyes that they’re like a child’s mediocre replica of the Creator’s brilliant evening skies. Does He frame moments like those and hang them on His heavenly walls and smile with remembrance each time He gazes at them? I imagine that heaven is glittered with paintings like those…amateur mock-ups of an Artist’s brilliance, given a value by the Father far greater than any man would ever attribute to them…counterfeits viewed as priceless treasures by the Authenticator merely because of the great love He has for the person whose fingers put paint to paper.

I hope I see a lot of familiar paintings as I wander the halls of heaven one day...

leavin' on a jet plane

I’m on a plane flying to Denver, Colorado as I’m writing this. I’m thousands of feet in the air, so high all I see outside my window is a sea of puffy, white clouds below a flawless blue sky. This plane ride isn’t just the beginning of my ski trip though. It’s so much more. It’s a new beginning for a new chapter of my life. You see, I think life pretty much plays out in chapters. Some chapters are terribly dull or painfully long and you just can’t wait to get to the end of them so you can start the next one. Some are so beautifully joyous that you wish they’d stretch on for hundreds of pages!

Well, I’m sitting here ready for a new chapter. I’m determined to make a fresh start for myself. In some ways I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I want to read when I look back on this chapter some day down the road.

I know one thing though…I’m determined to be different. I just ordered a diet coke from the flight attendant. I don’t even like diet coke. Maybe I need to take this fresh start business down a notch.

From Ski Trip 2008

I’m reading a book right now about God’s grace – well, I just started reading it for the second time. The first time was a few years ago but at the time I found the book to be too thought-provoking and potentially life-altering and I wasn’t ready to make changes to my life just yet so I cast that book and those newly provoked thoughts aside on a shelf somewhere.

But here I am now on this plane flying to Colorado and away from my life as it once was. I’m ready for books that will make me fall so madly in love with Jesus that I’m willing to make sacrifices for Him. This isn’t just a plane ride to Colorado. No, it’s an escape in some ways. It’s a sprint towards Jesus with arms outstretched. It’s a lot of things. It’s both an end and a beginning.

My diet coke just got here. Note to self: no more diet coke. The new me still doesn’t like it.

When I step off of this plane, I want to see mountains. I love the mountains! They always remind me of how big God is and how small I am in comparison to his bigness. I need to see God as big right now.

Today I’m making a commitment to God and to myself. I want more of God and I know that He wants more of me. I want to spend more time alone with God – talking to Him, reading His Word, taking walks with Him, and just being still and quiet long enough to hear His voice.

I want to stop being so “busy” all the time. I want to sleep more. I want to pray more. I want to run more. I want to spend more time with my family. I want to trust God more. I want to drink less coffee (shocking, I know!). I want to complain less. I want to love God more deeply. I want to have afternoons where the only thing I do is climb trees or sit reading and sipping iced tea on my front porch as I ponder all the questions I want to ask Jesus someday.

About two years ago, I was involved in a Beth Moore Bible study with a group of girls from my church. During the study, we were asked to select a Bible verse that we found especially difficult to believe. The verse I chose was the verse that says that God would grant me the desires of my heart.

I’ve always known that verse is true because God’s Word is truth, but it still has never felt true to me. Doubt remains at the back of my mind and I always cringe at the mention of this promise in the Bible. At the same time, I’ve always known and understood that the key to this verse is that God will alter and refine our desires to be a reflection of Himself and His will for our lives.

Oh God, let this be You changing me and transforming me – not just me selfishly seeking a change of pace, or a new chapter!

tutus and twirls

Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you. (Proverbs 4:25)

Growing up, I took ballet lessons. I instantly fell in love with the dance as a kid. I mean, I LOVED it! I was always dancing. Whether at home, at school, or in the aisles of the grocery store, no one could keep my feet from moving to the music that played inside my head. While I loved every part of dancing, one of my favorite things in ballet class was doing pirouette turns. Turn after turn after turn (grocery store aisles are perfect for these)...I always felt like a princess spinning around on my toes!

The tricky thing about pirouette turns is that you can easily become dizzy from doing them. The key to turning without becoming dizzy is, of course, to fix your eyes on one stationary spot. With each turn, your gaze must come back into focus on that one particular spot at the end of each rotation. I can remember scanning the room for my selected focal point – a picture frame, a sign, a poster, or even my own reflection in a mirror. The focal point is a must. Otherwise...you're bound to end up in a giggling heap on the floor, pink tutu and all.

The same is true with our faith.

In Hebrews 12:2 the author writes, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

If we don't keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, we're bound to end up in a heap of trouble and there’s not so much giggling in that heap! We're way too easily distracted by the things that the devil throws in front of us in an effort to trip us up and cause us to doubt God's goodness and ultimate plan for our lives.

As a dancer, It wasn’t enough for me to fix my gaze on any old object. I couldn’t choose a passing car or a person walking by because, naturally, I knew that they wouldn’t be in the same place by the time my head had whipped back around. I had to choose a solid, stationary object that I could rely on to remain stationary during the amount of time it took me to complete each rotation. When I apply that lesson to faith, I see Christ as the only solid and stationary object to concentrate on. My friends and family are there for me most of the time, but as humans with their own individual set of struggles and limitations…they’re bound to disappoint me eventually. Money evaporates quicker than water. The job market can be highly volatile. Vehicles and homes are subject to accidents and fires. The only true constant in this life is my relationship with Jesus Christ. There’s a good reason the Psalmist refers to God as our Rock!

We, as children of God, are often likened to sheep in the Bible. Psalm 100:3 says, “Know that the Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, the sheep of His pasture.” While sheep in children’s books are cute and fluffy creatures, the reality is that sheep are not known for being the smartest of animals. Sheep are easily frightened and are very slow, which makes them especially vulnerable to predators. They’re high maintenance in that they need the constant care and attention of a shepherd. They are so easily influenced by their peers that they will willingly follow one another right over the edge of a cliff to their death in pursuit of a few blades of grass. Isaiah 53:6 reads, ”We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Essentially, the smartest sheep is the sheep nearest his shepherd.

Thankfully, we're not sheep without a shepherd. Christ is our Shepherd and He has come for His lost sheep (Matthew 15:24).

Last week I spent a few days studying a short passage in Proverbs (4:20-27) as part of a daily Bible study I’m doing with some friends. Looking back at the verses again after having read them for several days in a row, I finally noticed a theme emerging from the text. The theme was one of obedience and position. Our Heavenly Father is omnipotent (all-powerful) and He is in control of all things. That doesn't mean that we accept Christ into our hearts, accept his gift of salvation, and then carry on in life doing as we please because we have been sanctified by the blood of Jesus and are thereby forgiven for all of our sins (past and present). A life given to Christ is a changed life. Not a perfect life…a changed life. The change begins with obedience.

Reading over those words in Proverbs over and over again, certain phrases jumped out at me. Listen to God. Memorize Scripture. Guard your heart. Fix your eyes on Jesus. Avoid lies and gossip. They were all commands, or rather demands for obedience to the Shepherd.

We will always be sinful humans. Our call isn't to be sinless (it's just not possible), it's to be obedient and to position ourselves in such a stance that we are ready (and more importantly, willing) to be used as tools of the Lord. It’s our responsibility to be putting our bodies in a position ready for worship…to be positioning ourselves as close to the Shepherd as we possibly can…to concentrate our focus on Christ as we traverse this dizzying pirouette-twirling journey called life. We're commanded by God to go to church (Remember the Sabbath Exodus 20:8), guard our hearts, and fix our eyes on Jesus. We don't do these things because they're wonder drugs for our moments of depression or supernatural maps to lead us in moments when we’re especially lacking direction. We do them out of obedience to God, knowing fully that He will bless us for our obedience. He will surely grant us our undeserved prize.

I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:14)

I might be too old for the tutu now, but I’ll never be too old to fix my eyes on my Shepherd and dance for Him.



A side note: As I was writing this blog, I did a little research (ok it was VERY little so don’t bother asking me any questions later) on the behavior and nature of sheep. One thing that I found pretty interesting was that while sheep have excellent peripheral vision, they unfortunately have very poor depth perception. Dips in the terrain ahead of them, and sometimes even just shadows, will cause them to stop in their tracks or even retreat. As a result, sheep have a natural tendency to want to move out of darkness and into well-lit areas.

The same applies to us as the sheep of God’s pasture. Like sheep, our peripheral vision is 20/20. We are easily distracted, and consequently entangled, by the things that encompass us in this world. Our depth perception seems to be terrible in that we are always slipping and tripping and having to fall to our knees to ask forgiveness. I truly believe that there is something inside of us that causes us to naturally desire to move out of the darkness of sin and enter into the Light of God’s Truth.

doing the chocolate dance

Wisdom is not gained by passive absorption. It must be consumed and savored. It must become the focal point of our thinking. -- Chris Tiegreen, The One Year Walk With God

I love the mental picture that comes to my mind when I read Proverbs 4:20-21. "My son, pay attention to what I say; listen closely to my words. Do not let them out of your sight, keep them within your heart; for they are life to those who find them."

When I read those verses, I envision this little boy chasing after his Father and leaping into the air to grasp his words as they float, swirling and twirling on every fleeting breeze like snowflakes, from his lips. The little boy is excited with this game he and his Father are playing. He giggles and squeals with delight as he anticipates his daddy's every word and the chase that ensues.

One night last year, my friend took me with him to spend the evening at an art museum in town. At that time, there was one exhibit at the museum which centered entirely around chocolate. Within the exhibit were all these different booths set up sampling chocolate and displaying things made out of chocolate. One booth was particularly amusing to us. The "vendors" had in their station something that was similar to a plastic phone booth and there were hundreds of chocolate wrappers lying on the ground inside. One by one, museum patrons would zip themselves inside the plastic booth. Once secured inside the plastic lining, the patron would meet with a great gust of wind coming from the floor of the booth which would send the wrappers swirling around his or her face and body. The object, of course, was to grab as many chocolate bar wrappers from the air as possible in the short amount of time allotted. The end result: a whole chocolate bar in exchange for every wrapper.

We watched person after person go inside the booth because it was so amusing to watch them do their "chocolate dance" amid the blizzard of wrappers. They would look so frantic and desperate as they grappled in the air for promises of chocolate. Eventually, we ran into another friend of ours at the exhibit and the friend I was with conned him into entering the plastic booth under the false pretense that we would then do it as well. Our friend did pretty well at collecting a nice handful of wrappers and he graciously shared his chocolate winnings with us despite our trickery.

Do we ever look like that? Do we ever resemble a child scrambling to catch his Heavenly Father's every word? Do we ever look like the patron in the plastic booth, hungrily stuffing wrappers into our pockets in eager anticipation of the rewards they represent? Or are we merely spectators in this life of faith - spectators who hope to benefit from someone else's chocolate prizes? Are we content to let the words fill our ears and sink into the abyss of our mind, hopeful that their final resting place will benefit us in some way or cause us to supernaturally grow with little or no effort?

I have to think that faith without ensuing action isn't really faith at all. If a life touched by the blood of Christ (or by the words of Christ) isn't a changed life, then it is not a life worth living.

As a child, I soaked in all the Bible stories and Scripture memory verses I could get my hands on. In addition to my Barbie dolls and the traditional doll house, I had Bible action figures and a Jerusalem "doll house" that my dad built for me. I would spend hours in play with Ruth, Esther, and David, moving their plastic legs through my cardboard city. I would line up my stuffed animals and babydolls to tell them stories from my makeshift pulpit (an upturned wooden footstool). I sang along to Psalty's Scripture memory songs that bellowed from my favorite red, plastic cassette player. Wow, I was such a freak.

Then somewhere in my adolescence, my passion died down for awhile. I grew complacent sitting in church on Sunday and grew satisfied with simply letting the words fill my brain. In a way, I expected that to be enough. For awhile, I was satisfied with the passive absorption Tiegreen was talking about.

I'm so grateful that God has brought me out of that stagnant state and has re-ignited my passion for His Word and has shown me firsthand how vital His Truth is to my daily life! I'm so thrilled to be doing the chocolate dance for God's words of wisdom. I just hope it doesn't end when my time runs out in the booth. And I hope I don't hoard all of the "chocolatey" wisdom for myself, but that I share it instead with everyone around me.

For me, the chocolate dance comes as a result of spending time reading my Bible every day. It comes about after applying Godly principles to my life that my pastor preached about on Sunday. It's a result of the discussions I have with my home group each week as we dissect Scripture passages. The chocolate dance comes in the form of Christ-like conversations with family and friends and Godly reactions to circumstances and situations. The chocolate dance is recognition of God's hand in a beautiful, blue sky or a breathtaking sunset. The chocolate dance is giggling until there are tears running down your cheeks as you share your heart and open your arms to your girlfriends who are going through this life journey alongside of you.

The bottom line: God's wisdom is dark, chocolatey goodness for the soul.

when i grow up, i want to be a lion

I am woman. Hear me roar!

I think women are often likened to cats or lions because of our "catty" tendencies with one another. That's probably the number one quality in women that causes me to seek male friendships and be extra picky about the women I surround myself with on a daily basis. I hate pettiness and I cringe at cat-like women who manipulate and gossip and bicker and tear one another down. But interestingly enough, Proverbs links the lion to boldness and righteousness. Proverbs 28:1 says, "The wicked man flees though no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion."

Ruth Boorstin, an American writer and poet, once said "Be bold in what you stand for and careful what you fall for."

Lately I've been thinking more and more about being bold for the sake of Christ.

I used to be the only Christian in my workplace and in order for me to maintain a lifestyle pleasing to God in that environment, boldness was almost required of me. My lifestyle begged questions about what made me so different from everyone else. Why wasn't I getting drunk or going out for drinks with everyone else after work? Why wouldn't I date so-and-so or sleep with my so-and-so? Why didn't I gossip and backstab like others did? Why didn't curse words come out of my mouth?

Now I work at a Christian company and everyone in my office is pretty like-minded on the moral issues. And my family is Christian. And nearly all of my friends are Christians. Suddenly I'm not so different on the outside from anybody else around me and I have to ask myself...am I still bold? If not, where and when and how can I be?

I was driving home from church last Sunday and as I sat at a red light on a major six-lane highway, I noticed a man walking along the sidewalk. He was dressed in nothing but sneakers and a pair of jogging shorts. On his back was strapped a backpack. There's nothing unusual about any of that. What made him stick out like a sore thumb was the giant white cross he carried on his shoulder. And by giant, I mean probably about ten to twelve feet long. It had wheels at the bottom where it touched the pavement. I saw him walking with the cross upon his shoulder and my jaw dropped. It took a second for it to register in my brain what was going on. A car passed him and honked a short toot of support, as if the driver were saying "Amen!" or "I'm with you, brother!" The light turned green and I had to drive away, but there was a part of me that so badly wanted to make a U-turn and ask him all kinds of questions. Where are you taking that cross? How often do you do this? What church do you go to? Where did you get this idea? What is your testimony? I immediately admired him for making such a bold statement of his faith.

Last week one night I was in the car with a friend and we were driving along a toll road. We came to a stop at the toll booth and readied our money for the booth operator. As he gave us our change, he leaned over and said "Jesus loves you!" It took us by surprise completely. I sputtered out a quick "Thank you" and I think my friend replied with a "You too!" We drove away asking ourselves, "Did that really just happen?" I wondered aloud if he could lose his job for saying Jesus' name at a toll booth like that. I wanted to go back and tell him how cool I thought it was that he was doing that! It would have been well worth the extra $1.50 I would have had to spend.

Now I have to ask myself, am I bold enough for Christ? I read a devotional last night about lying. The text placed an emphasis on not merely refraining from telling lies, but on speaking the truth when the truth was called for. In essence, it was a devotional about being bold enough to tell the truth. As I reflected on the study, I had to ask myself why I choose to omit the truth or why I shy away from having to speak the truth on occasion. Why do I stay silent when I know I should speak up? The answer was simply my failure to be bold. Each occasion where I had struggled or possibly even failed to speak truth in an uncomfortable situation, it was because I was more afraid of the potential repercussions of my words than I was confident that God would bless me for being truthful. In the instances where I not only struggled but gave in and refused to speak up, I traded boldness for safety. I sold out. I lost an opportunity to be bold for Christ and grow in my faith.

Presbyterian theologian Charles Hodge once said, “The ultimate ground of faith and knowledge is confidence in God.” I want to be confident enough to be bold for Christ. As bold as a lion. Today and always.

I am Christ-like. Hear me roar!


"When I called, you answered me; you made me bold and stouthearted. May all the kings of the earth praise you, O LORD, when they hear the words of your mouth." Psalm 138:3-4

"They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness. Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus." Acts 4:28-30

"I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: "The righteous will live by faith." Romans 1:16-17

"Then the one inside answers, 'Don't bother me. The door is already locked, and my children are with me in bed. I can't get up and give you anything.' I tell you, though he will not get up and give him the bread because he is his friend, yet because of the man's boldness he will get up and give him as much as he needs. So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." Luke 11:7-9

sympathy pains

Empathy is interpreted as the ability to take oneself out of oneself and put oneself into another person's world. It is understanding another person's feelings by remembering or imagining being in a similar situation. It is understanding, being aware of, and being sensitive to the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another without actually sharing the feelings or emotions of another.

Last night a friend called me on her way to a service project where she'd be feeding the homeless and during our conversation she asked me if I had ever done that before. I told her about my experience and about how it had been a blessing to me but at the same time that it had been difficult for me because of the emotions it had evoked in my spirit. I loved meeting the different people there on the street corner. I loved hearing their stories. I felt valuable to them in a small way as I handed them a can of lemon-lime soda or a sandwich. My heart went out to their children as I knelt to play with them on the concrete. But by the time I got home, there was a part of me that was so heartbroken for them in their need that I wanted to sell everything in my possession and actually do something more significant than handing them a sandwich with a smile.

I am one of those people who feels the pain of others, both emotionally and physically. When somebody talks about scoliosis, my back hurts. When I hear about cracked ribs, my sides ache. When a friend feels broken-hearted, my heart feels broken as well. When someone I love has a death in their family, I want to wrap my arms around them and sob with them in their loss. I even feel nauseous sometimes when loved ones are arguing with one another. I easily slip out of my own shoes and into the shoes of those whom I hold dear.

All of this empathy poses a problem sometimes. I find it extremely difficult to walk the halls of a hospital because each occupied bed that I pass calls out to me. I often have to go outside for a few minutes just to escape the silent cries and breathe a deep breath in prayer. There are times when I have to fight the urge to carry the burdens of my family or friends upon my own shoulders rather than entrusting them to God as I know I should.

According to the dictionary, the word empathy is frequently used in connection with the creator of a work of art. When I first read that, I thought not of a creator, but of the Creator. I pictured in my mind Jesus Christ...God in the form of man. The infinite, all-powerful God loved us so much that He came to earth in the form of a perishable man. Jesus experienced all of the pain, sorrow, and suffering any of us ever have or ever will go through. He knows our pain and sympathizes with us because He felt it first Himself.

Just imagine...any time we are in pain, whether it be emotional or physical, Jesus Christ is standing right there beside us. He stands with His nail-scarred hands outstretched, waiting for us to run into the safety and comfort of His arms. That mental picture is so vivid and powerful to me. The holes in His hands where the nails once were remind me that He has felt every ounce of physical pain my mom will ever feel in the course of her disease. He knows a pain far greater than that experienced in a car accident or a knee injury. At the same time, those same scars remind me of the fact that when He suffered and died on that cross, He had experienced all of the emotions I ever have or ever will face. He had both loved and lost. He had treasured relationships with his friends and family. He had been betrayed and abandoned.

Perhaps the reason I can step into the shoes of others and see things and feel things from their perspective is because Jesus first stepped out of His own sandals and stood barefoot in the pain of the poor, the sick, the weak, and the down-trodden. Perhaps it's not a characteristic of my personality that causes me to be this way. Rather, it is Christ living in me that allows me to feel any empathy or sympathy at all.

One thing I know for sure is that I am grateful for my sympathy pains. They are real and raw and fresh. They remind me of my weakness and my need for a Lord and Savior. At the close of our study of the book of James this week, I was talking to my home group about suffering and reflecting on what I've learned through experiencing trials in my life. In James 1:2-4, the author writes, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." It has come up many times during our study of James that suffering inevitably produces a stronger dependency on Jesus Christ than that which is experienced in times of joy or peace. It is in those moments of vulnerability and pain that we find ourselves desperately clinging like the bleeding woman (Mark 5, Luke 8) to the hem of Jesus' robe.

I am grateful for my sympathy pains because they allow me to show love to those who need it most. I have experienced many trials and God has always been faithful to bring me through them. I believe that the empathy I feel is a gift from God that spurs me to reach out to those who are hurting and tell them that they are not alone in their suffering. I have suffered and am testimony of God's love and grace. Jesus suffered far greater pain and grief to the extent that He even died for me and for you. That is surely something to consider with joy.

I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. Lord, by such things men live and my spirit finds life in them too. You restored me to health and let me live. Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish. In your love you kept me from the pit of destruction; you have put all my sins behind your back. - Isaiah 38:15-17

But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. - Hebrews 2:9

To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. - I Peter 2:21

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. - I Peter 1:3-7

go to sleep, my child

I am a glutton for punishment when it comes to sleep. I rarely, if ever, get enough sleep. I stay up until 1, 2, or sometimes even 3 in the morning and then wake up and start all over again at 6:30 each morning. On the weekends, I don't sleep in past 7:30 or 8 because I feel like I waste my day if I sleep in. It's probably a miracle that I function as well as I do. Not that I function all that well...unfortunately my blonde cells multiply and take over my body with each hour of sleep that I'm deprived. I forget things and events that happened within the last 48 hours. I recently showed up for a party a week early. Yep, that's proof. I'm definitely sleep deprived. (But in all honesty, showing up a week early turned out to be a lot of fun so don't knock it 'til you try it!)

This week I marked my calendar for sleep. Yes, that's right. I put sleep on my calendar! I had to. My December calendar was full before December even started and looking at it was making me feel stressed out and tired. So, I marked Wednesday for uninterrupted, glorious sleep and I was determined to let nothing get in the way of it.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was definitely at my breaking point. Months of being on the go non-stop was taking its toll. I knew my immune system had to be running on fumes and my nerves were definitely on edge. I was exhausted to the point of being a hazard on the road in rush hour traffic on my way home from work come 7:00 that night. When I finally walked in my front door, I yanked off my high heels and collapsed, fully clothed onto my bed and into an instant coma.

I eventually awoke...well, to some extent...when my "Santa Baby" ringtone pierced my psyche and interrupted my dreams. With eyes half open and a brain functioning at about 35%, I managed to make myself some dinner, clean my bathroom, and finish the two loads of laundry I had started that morning before heading to the office. With my chores done and my belly full, I finally was ready to hit the sack for good.

But somewhere in the midst of my weary body's need for rest and my obsessive compulsive need for my house to be in order and my bathroom to be clean, it hit me that my greatest need was to just surrender to God. I don't just busy myself with a hectic schedule and an over-committed calendar on a regular basis. I systematically pile on burdens and carry them around on my shoulders stacked hazardously high above my 5'3" stature. I carefully and stubbornly balance them as I walk doubled over along my path until their weight causes me to stumble and tumble. Then, and only then, do I surrender them over to God. But there in my sheer exhaustion, God spoke to my heart. He said, "Come and rest in my arms." And that's when I let go of everything. I let go of my worries. I let go of yesterday and today. I let go of tomorrow. I let go and I crawled up into the arms of Jesus. Ok, it was actually my bed that I crawled into. But trust me, I was crawling into Jesus' arms. And it was there that I found deep, restful, peaceful, glorious sleep. 9 hours of it.

The next night as I hurried home in the heavy evening traffic, I had the radio on instead of my iPod which is uncharacteristic of me because I generally am annoyed by the radio. It was no coincidence that I happened to tune into Z88.3 just as MercyMe's "Joseph's Lullaby" began to play. I heard the words and was reminded of my time of rest the night before.


Go to sleep my Son
This manger for your bed
You have a long road before You
Rest Your little head

Can You feel the weight of Your glory?
Do You understand the price?
Or does the Father guard
Your heart for now
So You can sleep tonight?

Go to sleep my Son
Go and chase Your dreams
This world can wait for one more moment
Go and sleep in peace

I believe the glory of Heaven
Is lying in my arms tonight
But Lord, I ask that He for just this moment
Simply be my child

Go to sleep my Son
Baby, close Your eyes
Soon enough You'll save the day
But for now, dear Child of mine
Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight


Those song lyrics struck me as beautiful and personal. With those words, God was calling His dear Son to find rest in His arms with the same tenderness and love that He had used to call me into His arms the night before.

I need to spend less time trying to change the world one busy task, meeting, or Bible study at a time...and spend more time resting in the arms of my Father.

God, I want to simply be your child.

a still reflection

James 1:19-20 says, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires."

For the last three or four months I've been studying the book of James with my home group. Slowly but surely, we've dissected the text verse by verse. Again and again, those are the two verses that keep coming to my mind. I keep coming back to those words: Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. I've read those verses many times before, but this time they leaped off the page and shouted at me, demanding that I reconsider them. They've struck a chord in my soul that keeps reverberating as each day goes by.

I've always looked at those verses and thought of them in terms of me and my relationship with my family, friends, and people in general. I think I have always looked at those verses as a kind of a checklist of godly behavior to be mentally ticked off. Be quick to listen. I'm a great listener. Check. Be slow to speak. I sometime speak before I think but not terribly often. Check. Be slow to become angry. I rarely get to the point that my blood is boiling. It actually takes a lot to stir up anger in my soul. Check. Wow, at this rate I'm a pretty good Christian. And so, I think I've traditionally checked off my checklist, patted myself on the back, and given myself permission to kind of gloss over those words.

But something changed during the course of this study. As I've heard those verses mentioned and as I've referenced them myself time and time again in the course of discussing the rest of the book, something in my perspective began to shift.

Over the course of the study, I have been struggling with a seemingly unrelated verse in the Bible. Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Even though Psalm 46 is one of my favorite Psalms and I read it often, that particular verse is one that I battle tooth and nail.

I habitually overbook my calendar. I have a ridiculously hard time saying no to anyone who asks me to do something. I am busy all the time! Oh sure, I'm busy with things that are good and often even Christ-like. I'm busy with all the normal day-to-day stuff like work and keeping my house clean and going to the gym every day and having fun with my friends. And then on top of that I'm busy with "spiritual things" like Bible studies and planning church events and helping different friends and family members with needs that arise. My weeks seem to fill up with life's clutter in the blink of an eye.

My family and my friends have chastised me a million times, warning me that I need to slow down before I make myself sick. They say I need to learn how to say no. My old boss used to tell me that I was too much of a perfectionist and that I needed to learn how to delegate and trust my employees to get the job done rather than do everything myself, my way. Even so, I never seem to listen. I nod and smile and say, "Oh yes, you're absolutely right" but inside I'm already thinking about what I need to get done today and what's on my calendar for tomorrow. On those rare occasions that I decide to slow down and take some time off, something too fun to resist or seemingly too important to disregard pops up and suddenly I'm driving across town and staying out until two in the morning again.

A few weeks ago I was at a church service at Summit and my friend gave me a copy of the advent study guide published by the church. I was eager to begin the study and make it an important part of my routine in this busy holiday season. Keeping Christ at the focus of the Christmas season is incredibly important to me and at the same time increasingly difficult as the years go by. I brought the book home and laid it on my dresser. As I put it down, its title stared back at me: Still. One simple word that pierced me with such conviction I almost couldn't look at it anymore.

The book sat on my dresser for a week untouched. Still. I couldn't stop thinking about Psalm 46:10. I knew it was God speaking to my heart but I resisted that fact, convincing myself that I was much too busy to be still and listen to God. In fact, exactly one week into the staring contest between Still and I, I was talking to a friend close to midnight about how busy my life had become and how much I longed for more time spent reading the Word when those fateful words parted from my lips, "I'm just too busy." As soon as my own ears heard the phrase leave my mouth, I wanted to reach out and grab them from the air and suck them back down in shame. Too busy for God? Who am I kidding? Ridiculous.

Needless to say, that night I went home and got into bed with Still in hand. Still and I had some quality time that night. I read the first week's lessons that night and with each "day" of wisdom, my soul was touched more deeply and I knew those words were exactly what I needed to hear. It was as if that book was written by God for me. A love letter from Jesus. It was an amazing experience and one that was well worth staying up late into the night for.

Somewhere in that time of stillness with God, He spoke to my heart and changed the meaning of James 1:19-20 for me. For the first time ever, I looked at those verses and I didn't think about my relationship with others. I didn't mentall check off my good behavior and dismiss the importance of James' words. This time I read those words and I thought of my relationship with God Himself. "Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." Be still.

Be quick to listen. How often do I busy myself to the point that I fail to simply listen for God's voice? Failure. Be slow to speak. I am always running my mouth, speaking to others about what they should or could be doing to please God and serve Him, but am I slowing down enough to recognize when I should be silent instead? Failure. Be slow to become angry. I know that all too often I become frustrated with waiting on God's timing, become angry with Him for not catering to my desires and take matters into my own hands. I pray to God with a request and when He doesn't answer in my own time frame, I get frustrated. Failure again.

Those verses in James and that verse in the Psalms have become more meaningful to me in the last couple of weeks. I think they'll remain in my heart for awhile. I have so much yet to learn on this journey here on earth. I know that God has many more things that He will teach me along the way. Today, my goal is to simply be still long enough to hear what He has to say to me today...in this one moment.

Be still, Beloved.

humble pie

I prefer the taste of pumpkin pie over humble pie any day of the week. What was I thinking today when I opened my big mouth and inserted my foot?

A friend of mine who never, ever compliments me finally gave me a compliment (or at least I think so) and I immediately shot it down because I've had my feelings hurt and I wanted him to know that he's the one who's been hurting me the most. Even though everything in me was screaming, don't say anything...don't say anything...I said something....and then I said some more...and then some more. Of course, remorse inevitably and immediately followed. Bitter humble pie in my big, fat mouth.

It's not that what I said was so terrible. In fact, I tried very hard to carefully choose my words. It's just that at that particular moment, it would have better for me to just say nothing at all. When will I learn to just be quiet when silence is what is called for?

Why is it that I say that I trust God and in my mind I know that I do honestly trust God and His timing and yet my actions repeatedly say "Move over, God, because I have a better idea!"? There's something deep inside of me that causes me to leap head-first into action when there's a problem, thinking to myself all the while that I can fix it or solve it or make it feel or look better. But shouldn't I have learned by now that God is in control of all things and that He is infinitely better equipped than I am when it comes to mending broken relationships and broken bones and broken hearts and broken anything? When will that knowledge that is so firmly planted in my head and heart finally translate to my words and actions?

In the grand scheme of things, am I more worried about getting my point across than I am about shaping my character to better reflect the image of Christ? The answer is no. Sometimes, however, my eyes wander from the cross and I lose sight of what's important. God always directs my eyes back towards Himself. He always forgives me and reminds me to forgive others just the same. He loves me and reminds me to love others as He has loved me. And so I do.

I am definitely a work in progress. Stinkin' humble pie. Sigh.


Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. James 1:19-20

The fear of the Lord teaches a man wisdom, and humility comes before honor. Proverbs 15:33

proud to be a treehugger

Today I took a walk with God.

I started out my day as I would any other Saturday, but then God took me by the hand and led me so graciously, lovingly, and tenderly along a beautiful detour.

The weather was so absolutely gorgeous today that I felt compelled to spontaneously set aside my plans for the day and just enjoy some time alone with God. With my iPod plugged into my ears and a book in my hand, I parked my car and just started walking. I didn't have a destination in mind really. I kind of let the music guide me. It was sort of like those guys back in the day who searched for water with a Y-shaped stick or Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride who let his sword guide him. Maybe watching August Rush twice in one week has had an effect on me. All I know is that I let the music set my pace and when Beyonce said "to the left, to the left"...I literally turned down a side street to the left.

As I walked down sidewalks and cobblestone streets, my eyes wandered over landscapes and architecture. Even without my camera in hand, I see the world in photographs sometimes. A stone church steeple rising into the air in contrast against a brilliant blue sky. Brightly colored flowers in full bloom. Palm trees towering high overhead. Children giggling. A couple walking hand in hand. A dog sleeping contently at his master's feet. I see God's beauty everywhere.

For awhile I laid down on a park bench and read from my book. I could have fallen asleep there if it weren't for the fact that park benches make lousy pillows. But as I lay there looking up beyond the white gazebo towards the trees, I felt like I was looking at a deserted movie set. Several deflated balloons dangled from a branch high overhead, remnants of a picture perfect party some days past. Now the party was over and I was the only one left. It was bizarre how quiet and still the world seemed as I stretched across that bench. I read from my book there in the quiet stillness. I read about God's power and I felt something stir in my soul as the truth resonated there.

Eventually the music guided me to a park. After that, it took me to a lake. It was there that I spotted the tree. The perfect climbing tree. Seriously.

I climbed up into the tree and got settled. Perched high above the ground, I felt at home. Looking out over the lake, I watched the snake birds dive for their lunch and then air out their wings at the water's edge. I watched the ducks paddle their way from one bank to another in perfect synchronized formation. I laughed at the squirrels chasing one another in dizzying circles around the branches high above my head. I watched the Spanish moss swaying in the breeze and listened to the distant whistle of a passing train. The Russian Easter Overture began to play from my iPod and I swear nature danced to the music. For fifteen minutes (yes, it's that long of a song), the tall grasses bowed and the breeze shifted as the music swelled. Maybe August Rush has gotten to my head. I don't care. It was beautiful.

I alternated between looking up at the clouds in true daydreamer's fashion and reading Godly words of wisdom from my book. I let God speak to me without distraction. I was still. And it struck me. "Be still and know that I am God" the Psalmist writes. That's one of my favorite Psalms and yet I'm rarely still. I am always on the go, always running from one scheduled commitment to the next, meeting this friend for coffee or helping that friend with a project. I spend my time wisely for the most part and much of it is spent serving God, but most of it is simply spent. Not set aside. I am rarely just still for the purpose of being still and listening to God's voice.

But there, above the ground...in a tree...I was just still. I forgot for a little while about all of the tasks I needed to accomplish. I let go of the worries that are weighing me down. I set aside the pain and the fear and the doubt that accompany this life. I just enjoyed time with Jesus. I listened as He whispered to me through the beauty of my surroundings. I let Him romance my heart and I think my soul even did a little dance as my iPod played on.

Why is it that I find it so difficult to make time for God in that way? Why can't I slow down more often and just find rest and peace in the arms of my Savior? Why am I always so ridiculously busy? I bought two rocking chairs for my front porch, but I'm never at home to sit in them and relax with a friend over a lazy conversation. I bought a TV for my bedroom so that I would relax in bed during a movie, but I've only succeeded in making time to watch one movie in the last three months. Why is it that I have to climb a tree in order to sit still long enough for God to speak to my soul without having to shout above the distractions I surround myself with daily? And if it takes climbing a tree to achieve such stillness, then why do I not long to climb a tree every single day of my life?

God, I want to wake up tomorrow and long to climb a tree with you.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:10

rubies on tuesdays

I don't know what it is about Tuesdays, but Tuesdays are usually rough days for me. Crazy and tragic and sad things just seem to happen to me and my loved ones on Tuesdays for some reason. Well, actually I know there's a reason. I'm sure it's no coincidence that Tuesdays just also happen to be the day that my home group meets. We're studying the book of James and it has been a deep, intense study of God's Word. All nine of us have laid our hearts out on the table. We're actively seeking to learn more about God and serve one another each week as we meet to discuss the truths found in the Scriptures.

And so, on Tuesday mornings, when I get out of bed....I'm pretty convinced that Satan shudders a little at the potential threat of a woman who is truly pursuing God with her every breath and he scrambles to see what he might find to throw in my path. Fatigue. Illness. A wounded relationship. A hard day at the office. Whatever Satan can think of, he lays it out before me in hopes that he might cause me to stumble as I hike along the rocky, narrow road of righteousness. He longs to rob me of my joy long before seven o'clock rolls around and I walk in the door at home group.

Every Tuesday is a battle. And every Tuesday Satan loses. I love it!

No matter how drained I feel before walking in the door, no matter how ill-prepared I feel to lead a discussion on the Scripture we're reading, no matter how many different directions I feel I'm being pulled in...somehow God supernaturally redirects my thoughts and allows me to focus on Him with renewed strength. Each Tuesday I leave that Bible study with such pure joy in my heart that I feel like I might explode! And the crazy part is that I'm not really exaggerating.

I was thinking a few days ago about when I was in North Carolina and we were sifting through the dirt and debris at the bottom of a waterfall looking for rubies and garnet. I thought about how that search was so similar to our spiritual quest. God has all of these great treasures for us. He has beautiful rubies that He desires to gift us with, but Satan works as hard as he can to cover them up with dirt and debris. He wants them to seem unattainable. He wants to cover them up and bury them so deeply in the things of this world (the monotony of daily living, stress, arguments, sickness, weariness, broken relationships, etc.) that we forget about them and stop even trying to pursue them.

Each Tuesday I find myself with a handfull of rubies in my pocket by the end of the day. The rubies come in the form of Bible verses that speak to my heart, text messages that make me smile huge Orbit chewing gum smiles (ding!), surprise packages left on my doorstep, out-of-the blue phone calls from loved ones, bear hugs that lift me off of the ground, blue skies that cause me to daydream, and sunsets that quite literally take my breath away.

I love ruby Tuesdays! :) ....not to be confused with the restaurant.

roadside redeemer

I don't know why or how, but somehow I let the Devil get the best of me the other day. It started out an ordinary day. The sun rose in all its glory as it usually does. I joyfully watched its early morning rays glisten in the morning dew and never thought for a second that in just a few hours' time I'd be going to battle with Satan and his evil forces.

It was later in the afternoon when I started feeling like I was so alone. That's where the Enemy gets me. He is the father of isolation. He wants me to feel alone, betrayed, abandoned, fearful. I know these are his games, his clever tricks. He whispers "you're not good enough" in one ear and sings "you're not truly loved by anyone" in the other ear. He's good at what he does, but my God is so much better. The best thing about battling the Evil One is that I know that God is on my side and that He has already defeated Satan and his armies. But in that moment of doubt and uncertainty, it can be hard to shake loose from the devil's grip on my arm. He pursues me in my thoughts relentlessly even though he knows that my heart already belongs to Jesus Christ.

I was driving to a party where I'd be meeting up with thirty to forty friends, yet I felt alone. It was a long drive. No, it was a very long drive. Each mile seemed to stretch on forever as the devil battled for the control of mind. He told me lies. No, not the kind of lies you hear out loud in creepy, taunting voices like in the movies. The quiet kind of lies that start somewhere in the back of your brain…so far back that you think you must have come up with them all by yourself. And since you think they've come from your own mind, you think certainly they must be true. Surely, you wouldn't lie to yourself. Would you?

At last I'd had enough of this torture and I gathered all my strength to pray against the lies that were swarming my thoughts and choking my joy. As hard as I tried to pray, as much as I struggled to cast out all doubt and uncertainty, the thoughts persisted. My soul felt heavy and dark. I felt so alone.

Finally, I pulled my car over. It was a lonely stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. There I sat in my car next to some swampy water and reeds probably twice my height as cars periodically whizzed past me. I took out my "emergency Bible" and began reading the Psalms aloud. Soon the tears were flowing freely as the Psalmist's cries became my own. I begged the Lord to deliver me from my Enemy. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked," I read and wept and still the darkness persisted, weighing heavily on my soul. I tried to pray and I felt helpless to do so.

I got out of the car and walked closer to the water. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon and it was casting long shadows across the marshlands in front of me. Tiny birds were darting and chasing one another around the reeds. I heard something moving low in the grass and wondered if I might get to see a gator up close and personal. The wind whipped my hair around my face (especially as cars drove by) and the sun threatened to blind me as it continued to dip even lower in the sky.

I sat there at the water's edge and looked at God's creation stretched out before me. Nothing speaks to my heart like the beauty of creation. For me, to be outside is to feel alive. Usually that's all I need to ground me, to awaken my soul to the awesome majesty of the Creator. But on this night the darkness prevailed. The heaviness didn't lift. I prayed and prayed. I prayed so earnestly. Why wasn't God there for me? Why was I so alone?

Eventually I got back into the car, still heavy-laden and oppressed. I went to the party, but never felt truly present. I prayed throughout the night without ever understanding what I was experiencing. In fact, my night got worse. "Why are you allowing this to happen, God?" I was so dumbfounded. "I know my prayers are heard, so what's the deal God? What are you doing here? Why am I alone in this? "

It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened the night before. I was driving again, this time without the devil's whispers in my ear. I saw a sign that said "You've never cried alone. God is always there." And at that moment, it dawned on me that God had been there with me as I cried by the roadside.

I was so consumed by my self-pity as I sat there in the grass that I didn't even notice when Jesus stooped down and lifted me with such gentleness, tenderness, and strength and sat me on His lap as though I were just a tiny lamb. I didn't even notice when He wrapped His strong arms around me and held me tight, cradling me close to His chest. I was too distracted to notice the warmth of His calloused and nail-pierced hands as He laid them over my own. I never even noticed that as I was weeping, tears were streaming down His face as well.

There, on the side of the road, Jesus met me. I was never alone. I never will be alone. The Bible says it and I know it to be true. It says in Deuteronomy chapter 31, "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

What a blessed and wonderful thought to dwell on! The Creator of the universe who causes the sun to shine so brightly, who hung the stars in the sky and causes the moon to wane and wax…that very same Holy of holies, King of kings and Lord of lords…He met me at the roadside. He was with me in the car too. Tonight as I ran, He was right there next to me. He pounded the pavement mile after mile at my side whispering "I love you, my child" from start to finish.

There will be quite a few lonely car rides before my life is over. Satan doesn't grow tired of trying to hinder the work that Christ has begun in me. But he is doomed for failure because Jesus defeated him at the cross over two thousand years ago. I will have my dark days when my eyes are shut to the goodness of God and I temporarily forget the certainty of His love and faithfulness. But He will be there nonetheless. He will hold me in the sanctuary of His loving arms. He will feel my sorrow and He will share in my joy. That's what a Father does.

ready to fly

Last weekend was an amazing weekend. A few friends and I surprised my friend Stacy for his birthday by "kidnapping" him and taking him to the mountains of North Carolina for some early birthday hiking and exploring during the peak of autumn with all of its radiant colors. Around each curve in the road, something new and beautiful awaited us. At one point, someone pointed out that as the colorful leaves fell from the trees, the person who caught each leaf was the first person to ever touch that particular leaf. Incredible.

We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.

Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.

On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.

This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.

Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?

I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.

Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.

Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?

I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.

Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.

arms wide open

Over the last couple of months I've had quite a few conversations with different friends about giving up our worldly possessions and about the inconsequential nature of all of our worldly goods. I've seen a few videos and heard a few sermons over these last several weeks about the injustice that's taking place in our world today and I've been reminded just how good I have it here in America, the wealthiest nation in the world.

I've certainly never been what I would ever call wealthy. Oh, I grew up in a home where my needs were always met, though sometimes by the generosity of others. We were on the receiving end more than once of our church's charity come Thanksgiving or Christmas when the canned goods were collected and distributed to the families "in need." But we never went without. My mom and dad would have done anything necessary to see to that. What must it feel like to wake up in the morning and not know where your next meal will come from? Whether there will be a warm place to sleep come nightfall.

Tonight in church we watched a slideshow of pictures from the devastation that scarred Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina made landfall a couple years go. Seeing those images up there on the big screen, larger than life…they touched something deep inside my soul. I had to ask myself what that would be like…to lose everything I own. And possibly everyone I love.

The story of Job keeps coming to mind. He lost everything he owned and everyone he loved and still he didn't curse God. How did he do it? Where does faith like that come from? A faith so unshakeable. So firm. Would my own faith withstand such weathering?

I'm not much of an "earthly treasures" kind of person. I'm not very materialistic. I don't put a lot of value in my clothes, my furniture, my house, or my car. I periodically go through all of my possessions and donate or give away as much as I can because I prefer the least amount of clutter in my life possible. I'm sentimental but not to the extreme. When that age-old question is asked about what I would save if I could only save three things from being burned in a fire, I have usually answered my pictures, my Bible, and my pillow. But that's a ridiculous question and my answers are even more absurd. A Bible and pillow are easily replaced. My pictures will one day fade to a golden brown in a box in my closet as their ink loses its color.

There's a part of me that longs to know what it feels like to be the victim of such a disaster as what those victims of Katrina faced. Or perhaps the victim of a violent tornado. To wake up one day and be grateful to simply be…alive. There's something absolutely wonderful and freeing in that thought. Don't get me wrong. I thank God that He has spared me from such tragedy. But what a wake up call to think about standing in those shoes of the man who just lost his home and everything he owned when a tornado demolished it all in just minutes. It definitely puts my pain in perspective. Who am I to complain about my loss when others have lost infinitely more?

You might think I'm crazy for seeing something wonderful and beautiful in something as tragic as a natural disaster. But storms are becoming something precious to me. The way I see it…the beauty isn't in the storm itself, it's in the rescue from the storm. To watch a community come together in a time of crisis is…beautiful. To watch the church raise money and support to rebuild homes and rebuild lives is beautiful. To truly recognize my need for a Savior....beautiful.

And so the question is…how do I live a life of extreme gratitude without having endured such extreme loss? How do I surrender everything I own and everyone I love, holding them out to God with my arms wide open, fingers outstretched…ready to be taken from my grasp at any moment? How do I live in the "perhaps today I may breathe my last breath" mentality? How do I make every second count? How do I live every single day for the cause of Jesus Christ? How do I store up all of my treasures in heaven?

With arms wide open.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. Philippians 3:7-9

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:19-20

rain, rain...go away

They say that when it rains it pours. Lately I feel like there's a torrential downpour going on in my life. Within about a week's time my dad was in the hospital after what the doctors thought was a heart attack, my mom found out she might have cancer again, my sister's car broke down (for good) and then to top that off she lost her job.

Summers here in Florida are silly. Each day starts out beautiful and fresh with a blue sky that melts my heart and beautiful, billowing clouds that are a field day for my imagination. I look out from my office window and pine to be set free into the outdoors every day. Trapped there behind my desk, I dream of picnics and walks in the park, swimming laps in my pool, sipping iced tea at sidewalk cafes, and sprinting through open fields! I'm really quite ridiculous. But then somewhere between the lunch hour and the time I leave work to head for the gym, the sky is usually overcome by a cloak of gray storm clouds and I quickly forget the carefree, sunshiny beauty I was so enthralled by just hours ago.

Life is like that, isn't it? I mean things can be going so great and I can be feeling so completely blessed by God. I become content receiving His blessings to the point that I expect them to continue at their "usual" pace and am disappointed when trouble or turmoil arises.

I was compiling a CD of some of my favorite worship songs awhile ago for a friend of mine who was going through a difficult time. I didn't realize until that moment that many of my favorite tunes are centered around rain. They include phrases like "when the rain comes," "grace like rain," and "let it rain, open the floodgates of heaven." As that realization resounded in my soul, I started thinking about the rain. I know that rain can appear gloomy and it can spoil our plans for a picnic or a beach day. But think about AFTER the rain…

After the rain, the earth smells fresh. The trees and the grass are a shade greener it seems. The rain is necessary for growth. Another worship song that I've heard on the radio boasts "I will praise you in the storm" …because…there is beauty in the storm! It's during the storms that we cling to Jesus out of desperation and fear. We, as Christians, grow closer to Christ in the storms of life just as surely as the grass gains its inches in the afternoon thunder storms.

And so, I welcome the storms. I will cherish the downpour. I will savor the walks in the rain with Jesus when He puts His strong, capable arm around my shoulder, walks alongside me, and calls me His "Beloved."

One of my favorite and most memorable moments was in the rain a few years ago. It was hurricane season and Universal Studios' annual Rock the Universe event was featuring one of my favorite Christian bands, Third Day. The hurricane had threatened to cancel RTU but oddly enough the rains held off and the shows went on hour by hour. Third Day would be the last band to perform if the weather held up long enough. Throughout the evening, the dark storm clouds loomed overhead but no rain came. My night at Universal wasn't a particularly great one (long story), but when it finally came time for Third Day to take the stage, I was able to put the events of my day behind me and focus on worshiping Jesus. That band truly has a talent for creating an atmosphere of worship. And so there I stood with several thousands of believers united with arms outstretched toward the heavens, worshiping the one true God with reckless abandon.

Then the cool part happened. Third Day announced that they were going to play their final song. The very first notes of "When the Rain Comes" pierced the darkness and something miraculous happened. Though it was near midnight, the sky seemed to light up and the heavens opened up. A light rain began to fall with those words, but it was unlike any other rain I've ever experienced. It fell lightly and didn't seem to make us wet. No one ran for cover. We stood there feeling it's feather-light droplets hit our faces and outstretched hands. "I can't stop the rain" they sang and I cried. My tears mingled with the rain as I stared at the bright night sky. God was in that place. He was telling us He loves us so deeply, so mightily. "When the rain comes, I will hold you" is how the song ends.

One year later, I was standing there in almost the same exact spot worshiping with Third Day and expecting a similar life-changing worship experience when my cell phone rang and I met with a completely different kind of life-altering experience altogether. It was my Mom calling from an ambulance to tell me that she and my dad had been in a car accident on their way home from dinner. A drunk driver had run a red light driving about 65 mph with his headlights off, striking my mom's door upon impact. The accident left her with a fractured knee, broken hip and shattered pelvis. Thus began another rainstorm for our family. It was a seven-month-long journey of waiting for the doctors to piece her body back together again and many, many more months of painful rehabilitation before she could walk again without the aid of a walker or cane.

And now we face the storm again with my mom's most recent diagnosis. She doesn't have cancer after all. Instead of cancer, she has a rare autoimmune disease that nobody's ever heard of. It's obscure and painful and scary. It's pouring down rain and we can barely see ten feet ahead of us. But God is with us in the storm. He has us in His grip and He won't let go. I know this to be true.

Soon I'll be on the other side of the storm. I'll be looking up at the rainbow that God has painted in the sky for me. I'll smile up at it and remember that He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For awhile, the pain of the storm will be fresh and I'll feel it like an open wound that is healing but still sensitive, tender, raw, vulnerable. After awhile I will forget the pain of the storm until another comes my way. My hope and prayer though is that I never lose sight of God's care and provision in my life. I want to not only walk with Him in the rain, but in the sunlight as well.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

"Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants. I will proclaim the name of the LORD. Oh, praise the greatness of our God!" (Deuteronomy 32:1-3)

When The Rain Comes by Third Day

When the rain comes
it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls
you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do

I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away

When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone
Rest awhile
It'll be alright
No one loves you like I do

When the rain comes
I will hold you