Jamaica -- Days 3-6 (Clinic days)

Monday morning brought clinic in full swing. Monday through Thursday were very similar in structure, but the experience from day-to-day was so different.  We were up and out of our hotel by 7:00 AM, pulling up to the church's gate by 7:15 A.M. The church was watched over by a uniformed security guard, how often does THAT happen in the U.S? Every morning as we drove up, there were people lined up already waiting on the clinic to open. These folks came through the night to receive a ticket to be seen by clinic. Our team was comprised of Jamaicans and Stafford Crossing folks, and one lady who traveled all the way from Canada to be part of MASH. Her family lived in Grant's Pen and she came to minister to them.

 

We had breakfast each day with our Jamaican brothers and sisters. We never went hungry or thirsty thanks to Lisa and her team, even on the day we didn't have any water. Before we opened the gate and let people in, each morning Pastor Muirhead, Reid, or Metts would lead us in a devotion. It was always something to remind us that we were there to work in unity to be a door to those who were broken to come to Jesus. A couple of the mornings Pastor Muirhead led us in the "Hallelujah" chant. It was just as it sounds.  He would shout "Hallelujah" and we, with hands raised, would shout it back. It was dual purpose, to beat back the enemy and to charge us up for the day.  Once the gates opened, it would be a whirlwind.

Those with tickets were let into the gate, where they registered and were given an arm band and a number. Each color represented different services that were offered. We had pediatricians, general practitioners, a dental team, and the local Lion's Club did eye exams and provided glasses. Once they were registered, they sat under the tent until their number was called. An arm band got you in for one service, if you wanted to see someone in addition, you had to go around and get another number. That helped prevent people from just coming in and hanging out in the air conditioning.

Once under the tent, before entering the building, the crowd was greeted by Pastor Muirhead, who then introduced our pastor, Darryl. Darryl's part was to present the gospel to them. He did it through words, and then he did it using a visual illustration. In the picture below, you see what the containers looked like before he told people that sin taints us all. He would take the sin container and pour it into the you container and it would turn orange. Then he would say Jesus has power to wipe away sin. He would take that Jesus container and pour it into us, and it would turn clear again, and then he would pour into the sin container and it would turn clear to, because Jesus takes all our sin when we trust him. It was a powerful picture, and it made it so easy in the prayer pod to then come back to that as part of the conversation.  It was then that the clinic opened in full force.

The Jamaicans handled the intake and the distribution of arm bands and the directing of "traffic" within the clinic.  I, for one, was so thankful for their part in this for lots of reasons. One being, even though Jamaicans speak English, wow can they be hard to understand sometimes! On top of that, a lot of Jamaicans intersperse Patois (a local language) with their English...when that happens all bets are off. Another reason was they were able to interact with them in a way that we could not. Often you would hear them refer to the mothers as "Mommy" or elder ladies at "Auntie." And the most important part I think was that they got to see the love of Christ displayed in a tangible way through their neighbors. What a powerful message.

Those of us who were not medically trained or assigned to specific tasks rotated from station to station.  It was quickly evident where my strengths were and were not. The first morning I was in the prayer pod. What a privilege to get to talk to people as they were finished at the clinic. I met people who were far from God, and people who humbled me with their walk with Jesus. The most common request I got was for a job. Unemployment and underemployment is a significant problem in Jamaica. It is part and parcel of why the drug trade has such a hold, why there has been such unrest there in the past, and the part of the reason for 12 foot walls everywhere you go.


The very first morning, I met a lady with a small child.  She had been there for her daughter to see the pediatrician. Nothing serious was wrong, but she had these sad, pleading eyes.  As I talked with her, I found out that she was living with a man who was caring for her and her children. They were not married. As I shared the gospel with her, she kept coming back to "not being ready" that she had to be married because she knew what she was doing was not right in God's eyes. I explained to her that there's no need to be "ready." Jesus wants us just as we are, he wants us to bring him our stuff and let him deal with it. She agreed to pray with me, but I am not sure that in her heart she understood, as she left that sadness still filled her eyes. But, I am going to trust that God is bigger than my doubt and believe that I will see her one day again. That afternoon as I was readying for devotions that evening, I was practiced a new song that had captured my heart the week before we left, it's called Ever Be by Bethel Music. The second verse of the song says this:

Alex managed to get a picture of us talking.

You Father the orphan
Your kindness makes us whole
You shoulder our weakness
And Your strength becomes our own
You’re making me like you
Clothing me in white
Bringing beauty from ashes
For You will have Your bride

Free of all her guilt and rid of all her shame
And known by her true name and it’s why I sing

All I could do was be amazed that God had been preparing me to meet this woman through the words of this song! I shared that story with our team as I introduced the song to them. It became a favorite over the week.

There were other amazing encounters during the week in the prayer pod and beyond. There was the lady who on Wednesday would find out the results of a breast biopsy she had recently. There was a lady name Lana who after I prayed for her, prayed for me in the most powerful way. There was a lady and her mother whose prayer requests had nothing to do with provision or selfishness, they wanted spiritual strength and as the older lady said "More of Jesus, more of  Jesus every day." Among the Jamaicans working the clinic there was Tamara who worked tirelessly to give the children of Grant's Pen an amazing week of VBS. Her humor and heart were so encouraging to me. There was Gavin, who when I was floundering trying to work the nurses station doing something as simple as taking down their information and getting their height and weight, swept in and got things rolling in the right direction.  There was Donald, a young man of perhaps 18, who would come and listen to me practice in the afternoons. His faithfulness to being at clinic every day and his willingness to do whatever was needed was a blessing. Bianca, whose first touch with Upper Room was at MASH last year, who ran the intake like a professional, full of kindness yet able to keep those whom would try to take advantage from doing so. And Malcolm, a young man who attends Kencot Christian Church (another partner of our church) but came almost every day to help and to visit with us.

Clinic days flew by. A lot of the cases were simple, people who needed medications, people who needed glasses, or dental care. Unfortunately, the docs saw quite a lot of STDs, too. Some days were harder than others. I think it was on Wednesday when a lady came through who had stage 4 breast cancer and was not aware. That was a hard day on our nurses, doctors, and prayer pod people. That was a day everyone involved wished they could do more. As pastors, doctors, and prayer support people gathered around her to pray, tears flowed and our Great Physician had to be entrusted to see to her as she left. I can't imagine what it was like to be in the middle of that. Yasmine Muirhead has a great relationship with doctors in the community and would see that she was cared for, but that day took a toll on us.

One of my favorite stories happened on the last day of clinic.  I was in the hospitality room working on songs for that evening when one of the Jamaicans, probably somewhere in his 50's from the grey in his beard, whom I had seen but not really spoken to, came up to me. His name was Oswald. "I write songs," he said. He sang me bits of a song he was working on. What a blessing! It definitely needed work, but his heart for God was so evident in it. Then he told me that he painted as well. I told him I would love to see them sometime.  The next thing I know, he's come back with a trash bag full of canvases. There were landscapes, and still lifes, and an amazing portrait of a Jamaican woman. I couldn't help but gush over them, he was really talented. He told me he was taking some classes, but had drawn since he was a little boy. As we started to put them away, he slid a picture of a pink lily over to me. "Would you like to have it?" he asked. I was gob stopped. I wasn't sure what to do. Pastor Reid was sitting on the other side of the room I looked at her and she just smiled. So, I hugged him and took the gift. After he left, I went over to Pastor Reid and asked her if I should give him money for it. She assured me no, that Oswald was a new Christian and he wanted to bless me so I should allow him to be a blessing. What Oswald didn't know was my birthday was coming on Saturday. This painting was the best birthday present I could have gotten.

Each evening we would go to Kencot Christian Church, have dinner and a devotional time.  Kencot is a large church and one that we have helped build, literally. It was great bonding time for us as a team.  Darryl worked it out so that it wasn't just teaching, but interactive. I led a small group, and we had some great conversations. On Thursday after dinner, Lisa surprised me with cupcakes for my birthday. What a nice surprise.  And then instead of doing our devotions, we went back to Upper Room to watch their basketball team play in a finals game. That was an experience! So much noise! Lots of cheering and horns and banging of pots and pans. It was quite raucous. The team ended up losing, but it was a ton of fun to be there and cheer for our friends. Another night after devotions a lot of us loaded in the vans and went to Devon House. Devon House was formerly the governor's mansion in Kingston. It's a gorgeous estate that has been transformed into a tourist/shopping area. There's a shop that sells ice cream that they make. It's awesome ice cream and a beautiful setting.

I'm sure there's lots of other stories I could share, but this post is getting way too long. Clinic days were long, but full of blessing.

Jamaica -- Day 2 (Church and Set Up)

Day 2 dawned earlier than I probably wanted, but later than a normal Sunday for me. Lisa and Rosina started their day earlier than the rest of us, as they would the rest of the week.  They were responsible for feeding us, and we never went hungry that's for sure. Breakfasts usually consisted of muffins, sweet breads, yogurt, lots of fresh fruit,  (the best pineapple I've had since I was in Hawaii), cereal bars, granola bars, and peanut butter, Nutella, and jelly.  After that first morning we ate at the church, so there were hardboiled and scrambled eggs available, too.

The coffee was strong and the water was filtered by the 5 gallon container. Lisa uses a filter on the water out of an abundance of caution. We don't need all of us going down to something in the water, that's for sure. Bottled water was available too at times, in Jamaica the brand is Wata...for real.

If you look closely, you'll see large black tanks on the roofs of the buildings

Water is at a premium in Kingston, they have been under a drought for several years now.  It seems that the rain hasn't been making it over the mountains.  Kingston is on the south side of the island, the northern parts have plenty of the precious source, so it's trucked in to those who can afford it at a premium price. All over the city there are large black containers on rooftops to store water. In fact, that morning when we drove up to church, they were receiving a delivery of water. It's very strange to be in a place surrounded by water and at times during the week, we were unable to flush toilets.

Sunday morning we had the distinct pleasure of worship with our partners at Upper Room Community Church. Upper Room is in the Grant's Pen neighborhood of Kingston. Grant's Pen is one of the most violent, hurting neighborhoods in all of Kingston. In past years, the presence of gangs and drug dealers were felt during our week there. The church, like our hotel, is surrounded by a 10 foot concrete wall, razor wire, and an iron gate. Down the street from the church, people live in shacks.

 

Upper Room usually has services in their sanctuary on the upper floor, but they took pity on us poor, spoiled Americans and had it in the basement where it was air-conditioned. The air-conditioning is thanks to the MASH clinic. The story goes that a local politician visited the clinic one year and saw our folks treating the locals in the sweltering heat. He promised that the next year it would not be that way, and he made sure the church got air conditioning units for the basement.

For church we spread out throughout the room so that those who were veterans might sit with their old friends and newbies like me might meet some of our soon-to-be new friends.  Upper Room is pastored by Ian Muirhead and his wife Yasmine. He is supported by Pastors Metts and Reid, both amazing women of God. Pastor Muirhead's son John leads worship for Upper Room. Worship was full of energy and freedom. The messages of the songs were about being a conqueror and who we are in Christ. "We are going up, we are going up together, we are going up to prosper, in the name of the Lord." was one of the songs we sang. Some of the songs were black gospel songs, but others were songs we would do at Stafford Crossing, adding a twist that made it special. John is a gifted worship leader and a talented keyboardist. I had a sweet time worshiping under his leadership. The music and singing were so loud that it didn't matter if I sang what everyone else was singing, so I found myself just singing the name of Jesus at times. It was moving. John was supported by several singers, a drummer, and a bassist. One of the singers was new to the church last year during MASH, and this year she ran a lot of the clinic for the Jamaicans. Our pastor, Darryl preached the message. He talked about temptations and trials, preparing us for the week ahead.

supplies

After church we went back to the hotel to change and came back to set up the clinic. Outside several large tents were set up with white plastic chairs under them. Those tents would be registration and waiting areas as well as a tent for the Vacation Bible School that would run through part of the day each clinic day. The same room we had church in quickly transformed using rope, tarps, and lots of duct tape into a full-fledged clinic. The downstairs office became the pharmacy, the alcove at the far end of the room where the drummer sat that morning became the dental clinic. Along the left side of the room 5 treatment rooms and the prayer pod emerged. The right side housed the waiting areas, nurses' station, and a spot for the local Lions Club to do eye exams. As the hours went by, the exam tables, dentist chair, medical supplies, pharmaceuticals, and other needed items all found their place. We are blessed to have people that do this trip time and again because it truly makes the hard parts easy, as long as you're willing to do what you're told.

  

I spent most of the afternoon counting vitamins along with other "support" people. We counted out a 30-day supply of vitamins and placed them in little ziploc bags. The kids made it a little game; how many times can you pour out exactly 30 pills. I was the champ! Everyone who comes through the clinic gets vitamins. Nutrition is poor in Grant's Pen. The nurses encountered one man who had lost his job and was living off mangos he found that had fallen off trees.  They gave him pre-natal vitamins to try to supplement his poor diet. This was another example of God showing me how blessed I truly am. I hope the thankfulness I developed in Jamaica is something that will follow me, but I am sure like other things, it's going to take a conscious choice.

That evening, we had a dinner with our Jamaican brothers and sisters to prepare for the next 4 days of clinic. Skip, on his many trips here, has found a woman who does the catering of our dinners for us. We eat a lot of chicken and rice, and there's always a green salad. It was nice to get to know some of the folks we would be working with, both the Jamaicans and the Stafford Crossing folks. We aren't a mega church, but it's easy to come in and "do church" and leave.

When it came time to go back to the hotel, I think most of us were ready to sleep. It had been a productive, but busy day, and our busiest days were ahead of us still. As I drifted off to sleep, I silently prayed thanksgiving for what I'd seen so far and entreated God to bless the coming days, keep us strong, and use us. It's not often you get to see prayer answered within 24 hours, but he did just that.

Coming soon -- clinic days

Jamaica -- Day 1

Last week, I went to Jamaica with Stafford Crossing Community Church's MASH missions team. It was my first mission trip in a long time and it was my first ever trip outside the U.S.  I felt very secure about going, since several of the participants had been there more times than they can count. There were 35 of us, some medical professionals (nurses, doctors, dental hygienists and assistants, pharmacists, and EMTs), some teenagers, and some of us just regular folk to act as support.

There were many blessings and a few miracles this past week. The first miracle was I was able to get up 2:30 in the morning to get ready to leave. Our bus to the airport left at 3:30 AM. However, the first real miracle was when we arrived in Kingston, friends of our group were waiting for us on our side of customs. See, we brought our medical supplies, pharmaceuticals, and a lot of our food with us. It can be quite a laborious process getting that stuff through regardless of our preparation. We were able to almost glide through customs.

Shortly there after, we were eating our first Jamaican lunch of patties and coco bread. I think every culture has a version of the patty, it's dough filled with some kind of meat paste, in this case it's fried. I found out the next morning at breakfast that coco bread is amazing with peanut butter or Nutella.

Kingston is a busy city. Unlike any city I've been in here in the U.S., there are goats everywhere. Little herds of goats wander the streets like dogs. Oh, and there's plenty of dogs wandering the streets, too. The traffic is crazy and the street signs are crazier, "Running the red light may put your light out" and "Protect your head, don't end up dead."  Being a passenger while driving on the left side of the road is freaky enough, I can't imagine driving. Thank goodness for Darryl, Skip, Alex, and Phil.

 


There are vendors everywhere, selling everything from bug swatters to honey buns and mangos. Our hotel, like most every other building in Kingston, was surrounded by a 10 foot wall with razor wire on the top and had a guarded gate. That's another one of those things that you don't have to worry about here.  We never went anywhere alone, and never went outside any of the places we served or stayed at.

Our first night we were blessed to have dinner with a local businessman and his family. They shared their beautiful home with us. The young ones and the more competitive older ones played soccer in the hot sun. Personally, I stayed under in the shade on the expansive porch or by the pool. The family treated us to some coconuts and to Ting, a favorite Jamaican soda. It was a treat to relax after the long day of travel. 

All of us were ready for bed when we left. I got to room with two of our nurses and a nurse practitioner. Kim, Chrissy, and Anna were consummate professionals and have such hearts of compassion. They also are hard core. Even on the most exhausting day, they would work out, like I said hard core. I felt bad they had to live with the person who lives by herself.  I probably took up too much space and left my clothes in the bathroom too many times, but they were patient with me.

It was a hectic and long day. Through it all God kept reminding me He was in details and He was going to teach me something new about Him, about me, and about the people of Jamaica and of Stafford Crossing.

Coming soon -- Day 2

The Last Word

Growing up, I was the kid who couldn't walk the mile in under 20 minutes. I just couldn't do it. I tried, but always failed the Presidential Physical Fitness test. Even now, as I take my walks round the canal path here in Fredericksburg, I'm lucky to hit under 20 minutes a mile. Lately, I decided I wanted to see if I could push myself and make a dent in that time. 

This morning, I was pushing myself. I thought I was doing well. Then, two little tiny ladies walking a Yorkie lapped me, not sweating or breathing hard at all. I'm sweating a river and breathing like I'm trying to get somewhere fast. Immediately, I started to beat myself up. "Really? How can that possibly be? I know my stride is longer than theirs. What the heck?" I got discouraged, fast. I was listening to worship music, and Elevation Church's "The Last Word" came on. The bridge says this: 

Your word stands through the ages

Your voice shatters the darkness

In you we are more than conquerors

You speak and strongholds surrender

Your name overcomes the enemy

In you we are more than conquerors

It was then that I remembered that I need not compare myself to anyone else. You see, this is one of those places where the enemy gets me. This is my dark place, my stronghold. I go to the "you're no good" place way too easily. Now, I know that in reality there is nothing good in me in and of myself. However, I have Jesus in me and I am a child of the King. Just as the song said, I'm a conqueror. Instead my heart filling with self-doubt, my heart filled with the knowledge that God has this and he can be my strength. In whatever you are facing today, you have a Savior who shatters the darkness of your situation, One who has overcome the enemy and to whom strongholds must surrender.  You are more than a conqueror. I am more than a conqueror.

Now, I never did pass or catch up with the ladies and their little dog. But, when I got home and did the math, I averaged 17.8 minutes a mile. The girl who could never break a 20 minute mile; more than a conqueror. 

You can listen to the song below.

Carrying Persistently

This morning, my study lead me to Mark 2:1-12. It's the story of the paralytic and the men that carried him to Jesus.  And while the writer of my study made a different point, I was reminded of a simple truth. The friends carried the one they loved to Jesus because he couldn't get there himself. And because of this, Mark says this:  When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

What a reminder and conviction to me. The man couldn't get to Jesus on his own, others had to carry him. It was their faith that Jesus saw and that is what spurred him to set the paralytic free. I always thought and assumed that those who carried the man were his friends, but scripture doesn't say that. They were simply people who saw a need and knew Jesus could fill it. It's up to me to carry those who are paralyzed by sin and circumstance to Jesus. It is my faith that can break down the barriers between those I love and Jesus--between those I don't even know and Jesus. I am sure it wasn't easy carrying that man to Jesus (scripture doesn't say from how far away they came) and when they got there they found an impenetrable crowd. Rather than turning back, they took him to the roof and dug through, just to get the man into the presence of Jesus. What would have happened if just one of them had stopped digging or let go of his side of the mat they lowered him on? I have to be persistent in my faith, prayer, and service. Our God is faithful to the end, and so must we be.

So, as I look on the rubble of Nepal and Baltimore and as I contemplate those around me who are hurting or are far from God, I must be faithful in my faith, prayer, and service. It's not going to be easy, I can't let the crowd or obstacles of life get in way. I must have faith that God is present and working. I must do what I can to make a difference. I must pray for the things that only God can do like change hearts and make beauty from ashes. So, today I choose to pick up the mat and carry my friends, my family, and those I don't know to the One who can make a difference in their day-to-day and their eternity. God give me the strength to be persistent in my carrying.

Persistent Faith: A Lesson in Job Hunting

Last week in my BSF lesson,  we talked about Matthew 15, this story has been rattling around in my head all week.

²¹ Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. ²² A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”
²³ Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”
²⁴ He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”
²⁵ The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.
²⁶ He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
²⁷ “Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
²⁸ Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

Some people are bothered by Jesus' reaction to this woman; that the God of compassion would turn her away. He does it not once, but three times! I am initially a little bothered by it, but then I remember how many times Jesus did things like this to test the resolve of those who approached, to see if what they asked for is what they really want or to teach his disciples something. 

But in my case, it's this woman whom I keep thinking about. This Canaanite woman from Greece (that's in the Mark version) begging Jesus for help.  Lest we forget, the Canaanites were the people the Israelites conquered in order to take possession of the Promised Land. So, I am guessing a group of Jews weren't exactly welcome guests in Tyre and Sidon. Despite that, she's heard about this Jesus and the things that he's done. This Gentile who likely worshiped the Baals or perhaps Greek gods, cries out, "Lord, Son of David have mercy on me.." That's a big step of faith and of cultural courage. She gets nothing but silence from Jesus and she makes the disciples uncomfortable. They ask Jesus to send her away. Jesus makes it clear that he's not there to help her, or so it appears. This woman approaches him, kneels before him, and says, "Lord, help me."  Jesus quips that he should not share what is rightfully the "children's" with "the dogs." This woman, so clever, so desperate, so full of faith that Jesus can save her daughter, counters with "even dogs eat crumbs from the master's table." This. This is what Jesus has been waiting for, for her persistent faith, for her unwavering faith in the face of what seems to be complete rejection by the one she thinks can solve her problems who can give her what she really needs and really wants.

As I look at my own life, this is what I seem to lack. I'm getting better at some things, but being unyielding and hanging on by faith is not how I'm wired. Maybe it's all the stuff I've been through that has done that. I've learned to be better at saying "Okay, God, I don't like it, but okay," rather than continuing to ask, continuing to plead, continuing to have faith that God has something not just okay, but amazing for me. I have gotten pretty good at being okay with okay. Where is the line between "being content in all circumstances" and having that persistent faith? As I continue this job search, (and in other areas of my life) that is my dilemma. (Well, that and I don't really know what I want to be when I grow up.) 

This coming Monday, I have only my second face-to-face interview in my a little over a month of unemployment. The job is in Frederick, Maryland. It's a job I applied to because, for unemployment purposes you have to show you're looking. It was one of the few jobs that I found last week that didn't require some kind of clearance. (Ah, the joys of DC.) My initial reaction to this opportunity was "ick," and "really, really, THIS is the door you're opening for me." As a young friend of mine said on my Facebook page...you must be mistaken I said FREDERICKsburg not FREDERICK. Now, I may get there and find it's amazing and Frederick would be a great place to move to. (I would have to move, I'm not built for a 2 hour plus each way daily commute). But, maybe God is using it to do a couple other things. 1. Make me really focus and decide what I want to do and where I want to do it. 2. Give me a chance to cling, to be persistent, to not waver..to not be okay with just okay. 

Maybe it's time I live like this Canaanite woman.

White as Snow

"If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us." I John 1:8-10

 "Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." Psalm 51:7

It's supposed to snow today, a deep blanket of white that will hide the ugly brown of winter. It will sparkle and glisten. The world will be quiet and clean and beautiful. We will revel in it, play in it, and find joy in it.

As someone who grew up in Pennsylvania, though, I know that all that white eventually turns into gray gunk that drags us into the winter doldrums. You have to shovel it, it gets your feet wet, it makes for messy driving and for cranky people. And yet, when fresh flurries come, there's still a marveling at the clean white that falls from the sky and blankets the earth.

I have made my choice, my eternity is secure. In God's eyes, I am white as snow.  But because I'm still here, I am going to continue to make gray gunk out of my life. So today, as I wait for the snow to fall, confession is my theme.

Forgive me:
For being puffed up
For concentrating on the words and not on You, Jesus
For not believing

For my heart that wanders
For thinking less of others
For having blinders on and cotton in my ears
For having my head down and my eyes on the screen
For rushing from one thing to the next
For having small faith
For listening to every voice other than Yours
For forgetting
For lying to make myself look good
For not praying, not loving, not serving
For keeping my mouth shut when I should speak
For speaking when I should keep my mouth shut
For putting myself at the front of the line
For stubbornness, pride, and envy
For seeing others as what they do and not who they are
For lacking compassion
For not trusting You

That's just some of my gray gunk, Lord.  Thank you for the fresh blanket of white that falls as I lay it down. Thank you that it brings joy and I can see beauty again. Hope becomes my theme.

Don't panic...this is from Snowmageddon a couple years ago

I Lift My Eyes

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from?My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1-2

I lift my eyes to you this morning, Jesus. You are my hope and peace. You are my provision and security. You are my strength and health.

I will choose to rest in you today, Lord. You are my hope, not any job I might find. You are my joy, not any person I might meet. You are my security, not the amount in my checking account. You are my strength, not the number of situps I can do or my mental toughness. 

This is a moment by moment choice for me, Lord. The real world without these choices can overwhelm and shake my foundation. I lift my eyes to you. You are my help.

He Who Sits on the Throne

Dear children, keep yourselves from idols. I John 5:21

I find it interesting that this is the last statement in this book about love. What keeps me from sharing my abundance with others? Fear of not having it when I need it (I John 4:8) and avarice, that is love for money. When does my love for my family overshadow my love for God? When family becomes the center of my world. 

It takes me back to college and the image that Campus Crusade used of a throne.
A throne in medieval times was what kingdoms fought over, it was the seat of power, the place of judgment, and the source of hope and help.  What sits on my throne?  As a Christian it's supposed to be Jesus. But more often than not though, I have to knock something off so he can take his rightful place. I hope to one day not to have to do this daily, to be that strong. But for right now, let me push off the things I let have power over me, put my hope in, and seek help from so the only One who can truly do those things may have his place.

Your Love Never Fails

Sunday we did a new song, called "Your Love Never Fails."  It's actually an old song in modern worship circles, originally written in 2008 by Chris Mc Clarney, Anthony Skinner. These are the lyrics:
Verse 1:
Nothing can separate
Even if I ran away
Your love never fails
I know I still make mistakes
But You have new mercies for me everyday
Your love never fails
Chorus:
You stay the same through the ages
Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night but joy comes in the morning
And when the oceans rage
I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that You love me
Your love never fails
Verse 2:
The wind is strong and the water's deep
But I'm not alone here in these open seas
Cause Your love never fails
The chasm is far too wide
I never thought I'd reach the other side
But Your love never fails
Bridge:
You make all things work together for my good

I found this short bio of Chris McClarney on worshiptogether.com
http://www.worshiptogether.com/worship-leaders/?iid=182293

Take a few minutes and read it, and take few more minutes and Google the song, there are all sorts of recordings of it out there, everyone from Jesus Culture to the Newsboys. I guarantee it will speak to your heart.  Maybe it is just what you need right now.  Maybe it's just what you need to lay out there for a friend.  As I played it Sunday, I couldn't help but think of my dear friend Janet who in the last month has been through 3 of her 4 children having e coli, two of which suffered from a very serious complication called Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome.  Even now, her oldest child is in the hospital having to undergo dialysis because her kidneys have failed.  At the end of her post this morning detailing the ups and downs of her daughter's current condition she posted this scripture. "Because of the Lord ’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:22-24 NIV)

So be encouraged today. Despite what goes on around us in our daily lives, the politics of the nation, the media, and all the other stuff we worry about.  His love never fails.  He has it.  Learn that bridge and sing it to yourself, every minute of every day if you have to . "You make all things work together for my good. " Just thought we could all use the reminder today. 

Hunger Distracts Me

This morning, I sat down to have my devotion time. I did some reading, but before I could sit down to pray, my stomach rumbled and I followed it's call to breakfast. After I ate, I wrote this in my journal.

"I had to eat first, Lord. I'm sorry. My hunger distracted me. Isn't that true about everything? My hunger for the trivial keeps me from the important things. My hunger for ingesting music keeps my from spending my time practicing and becoming a better musician. My hunger for other people's stories keeps me from writing the stories that are in me. My hunger for stuff keeps me from using my finances wisely and moving forward. My hunger for leisure keeps me from working out consistently and being stronger physically. My plain, old, everyday hunger keeps me from sticking to my diet and being at the healthier weight I desire."

As I thought about those words, I did a search for the word, "hunger," and these are a few of the verses that came up.

Psalm 34:9-10 (ESV)

⁹ Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,
    for those who fear him have no lack!
¹⁰ The young lions suffer want and hunger;
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

John 6: 26-35 (ESV)

 ²⁶ Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. ²⁷ Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal. "²⁹ Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” ³⁰ So they said to him, “Then what sign do you do, that we may see and believe you? What work do you perform? ³¹ Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” ³² Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. ³³ For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” ³⁴ They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” ³⁵ Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.

Matthew 5:6 (ESV)

⁶ “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied."

Philippians 4:11-13 (ESV)

 ¹¹ Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. ¹² I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. ¹³ I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Evidently I am not alone in this. The disciples were distracted and they had Jesus right there in front of them. Here's my prayer I wrote for today, maybe it will be yours.

"Father, I pray that I would seek to be filled by you. Forgive me when I seek other things first. When distractions of hunger come my way, may the filling of your Spirit overtake the hunger and put me back on track. Help me to remember that those who seek you lack no good thing. I pray that as I seek contentment in you, I would find that the stuff of this world would melt away and I would find the strength to be all the you desire me to be."

 

Of Powdered Milk and Words that Echo

Kids are selfish. Psychologists refer to it as egocentricity. Life is all about them. That's why you have to teach children that sharing is a good thing. That is why you have to teach children to think about others and that the things they say matter. Sometimes that selfishness turns into bullying. Physical bullying is devastating, but sometimes it's the words that people say that end up reverberating across the years.

Me. First grade I think

I grew up the youngest in a family of five. My dad was a steel worker and my mom stayed at home with us. At one point, my grandmother lived with us. So, there were eight mouths to feed, plus whoever happened to be at the house at the time, a cousin, a friend, one of my sister's boyfriends or my brother's girls.  My mom did a pretty good job of it. We never went hungry, in fact we probably ate too well. Up to and through most of elementary school the one thing we rarely had was real, whole milk. I remember making milk out of the powdered stuff in the box. I guess my mom did it because it was cheaper than keeping all of us in real milk, I never asked her.  If you've ever had it, even skim milk is better. It was just chalky water. When I went to school for the first time, in first grade, we got real milk with our lunch! I loved those little red cartons with the check mark on them. It was an elixir straight from heaven. I would drink carton upon carton at the lunch table. It wasn't even chocolate milk, just real, whole milk.

I was not a small child. If you look at my first grade classroom picture, I was bigger and taller than a lot of the other kids. My brother couldn't find those pictures, but he did find these other gems. I come from Lithuanian farmer stock, I have a sturdy frame. I take after my Dad and my Aunt Sally, both of whom were big people. My brother-in-law used to say, "Strong like bull-woman, can pull plow." Make sure you use a Russian accent when you say that in your head. Oh, and let me make it clear that was in reference to my ancestors, not to me or my sisters.

Me, second or third grade. 

When you put those two things together, it basically puts a target on your back. I remember a girl whom I wanted desperately to be my friend. A girl whom I thought WAS my friend. One day while we sat at the lunch table, she said something like this, "Gosh, Chris, that's a lot of milk. What are you, a COW?"  I remember how much that hurt, even though in the moment I laughed at it. It hurt not just because she said it to me, but because she said it in front of the little boy that I thought was the cutest boy in the class. That boy laughed right along with her. And that nickname "Chris Cow" stuck around for a lot of that school year. Honestly, I think it stuck around with me for a lot longer than that. Even now, it comes back at me like an echo across the canyon of time. I don't think that was her intention when she said it. She tried to be funny and be noticed by that cute boy. However, there are times when I look in the mirror and don't like what I see, those words echo. Often, when I don't want to go to the gym or I want to dive face first into a slice of chocolate cake, those words echo.

Now, it is entirely possible that my recollection of the incident is completely wrong but the point is those words aren't truth. They weren't truth even then. She didn't know that milk was something that I only got to enjoy at school. Maybe it wasn't a big deal to her, but it was for me. There's that egocentric self the psychologists talk about. I made the mistake, too, of making those words my own. I didn't have truth that could drown that out. I am not saying that her words caused me to struggle with my weight my entire life. My weight problem is a lot more complicated than words said by a first grader. What I am saying is we need to teach kids (and ourselves) to find truth that drowns out the echo. I needed words like these to drown out that echo:

2 Corinthians 5:16-17 "So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!" (NIV)

Romans 8:37-39 "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (NIV)

I John 4:16-17 "And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus." (NIV)

I pray that today when the lies that reverberate across our history enter your head and mine, we will replace them with truth.  I pray that as parents and significant adults in the lives of children, we will always speak truth and hope into their hearts. I pray that we will teach our children to use words that build up and not tear down. You see, these words are truth. New. Conqueror. Like Jesus.  There are so many more throughout scripture. These are the words that drown out the echo of lies and become the new sound of truth that reverberates across the canyon of time.

For I have learned to be content...maybe this time

"Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am."  Philippians 4: 11-13, The Message

Contentment. It's my constant struggle. I find myself daily, wanting. Wanting a new something, wanting a different job, wanting a relationship, wanting a family, wanting a new place to live. Every single time I have let the want overtake my contentment, I have paid a price. In December, I paid an actual price for allowing my want to have its day.

My kitchen/office at Christmas

I live in a small apartment above a garage. It's cute, and cozy and other than the fact that I don't have a stove and I have to combine living spaces (office/kitchen, living room/bedroom) it's really quite lovely. Here, I am under the watch-care of one of the kindest and most caring families a person could ask to be near. Compared to many, many people, it's a palace. I am blessed. But, in my head and heart at times, I don't find myself blessed. I find myself comparing it to my dream house. I get caught up in thinking about how old I am and what the world says I should have. "Chris, you're nearly 50, shouldn't you have your own place by now? Something you can call your own?" my Wormwood whispers in my ear. "Think how different your life would be if you had your own place. If you were closer to downtown. If you had a writing and music space, you would be so much more creative."  (It should be said that this isn't the first time this year I've thought about moving. Earlier in the year, I was inches away from moving to Wilmington, NC.  Thankfully, the Lord closed that door for me. My portable job wasn't portable enough to move there. When the time is right, the door will open, or perhaps it won't.) 

This is not the home, but it's what it looked like in my head.

Off to the real estate websites I went, armed with unrealistic expectations of what I wanted and what I could really afford. In the past, when this discontent came my way, I wouldn't find anything. This time, I found two places.  Surely, this was the Lord. One was an apartment above a store on Princess Anne Street and one was an apartment in what was the old Maury School. The centrality of the building and the shiny finishes of the apartment in the school grabbed me. I put down a deposit and filled out an application.  Almost immediately, I started to panic. For the cost, the space wasn't all that different from where I live. It was a studio apartment with little delineation in living space. Was it really worth it? If I had just listened to the Lord at that moment! I was determined, it was time to move on. I went back to my websites and found a house, for the same amount. A house. My dream. This was definitely a gift from God. He knew my heart, this was the thing that would make me happy, having my own space. Once again, God tried to put up a barrier, the agent didn't want to move my deposit. I was yet determined. I made it happen. I went to see the house, and even though it was old, it was quaint, and more space than I could have dreamed of. I knew it would be tight financially, but it was time to move forward. I could make this happen. I signed the lease and put down the first month's rent. 

It was then that full fledged panic set in. I was in way over my head. The rent amount would take up a high percentage of my paycheck, and there were utilities on top of that. The numbers, which I only ran until AFTER I signed the lease, weren't adding up. I am not a person who doesn't sleep. I didn't sleep a wink that night. I am not a person who feels anxiety, even when I was diagnosed with cancer, I didn't feel the panic like I did looking at those numbers. My blood pressure went through the roof. The only thing that calmed me even slightly was assurance of God giving me Jeremiah 29:11-13, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me an come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart."  I cried a lot. I prayed a lot. I must have scared poor Ellie as I stood in the Glasgow's kitchen in the midst of a panic attack crying and asking Sharon if they had plans for my apartment yet. Thankfully, they had promised it to no one. I decided the best thing to do was to write the woman who owned the house and ask to be let out of the lease. I would just be honest with her about my situation. Surely, she would have mercy. 

She did, sort of. She let me out of the lease. She kept all that money. I thought for certain that God would spare me that. Not so much. Now, I live with the consequences of responding to my lack of contentment instead of resting in the place that Lord has me. There is no need to feel too sorry for me, but if you know someone who needs guitar lessons, you could send them my way. ;-)

I don't mean we shouldn't move forward in life, have goals, or even want things. I am not saying even that obstacles are signs that God is not in it. If that were the case, the Emancipation Proclamation would never had been passed, polio would never had been cured, and we never would have landed on the moon. I do mean we must be certain that it's really what God wants for us and not just the cry of our deceptive hearts. Sometimes, what I think is a step forward in faith, is a lunge for something I want that God doesn't want for me at the moment. He may allow doors to be opened that I shouldn't walk through to remind me that my contentment doesn't come from that person or thing or place, it comes from Him and only Him. That's why God tells us to test all things that come our way. Only if I had actually done what I know I should have.

Maybe, I've learned this lesson this time. You see, it's not the first time that God has had to remind me the hard way that my contentment comes only from Him. I have a tendency to fall off the rails in this area. Hopefully, it makes me more empathetic to those who fall in this and other areas. I read this verse this morning, and it's my prayer for today. 2 Corinthians 1:12, "For our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience, that we behaved in the world with simplicity and godly sincerity, not by earthly wisdom but by the grace of God, and supremely so toward you."

Holiday Woes

There's been a lot in the news lately and on Facebook about how early Christmas becomes a part of the consciousness of the world. I've seen Facebook posts about the first Christmas ads running, the Christmas songs are heard in public, and the choices of retailers to open for Black Friday earlier and earlier. This year Target has received a lot of publicity because an employee created a petition to get Target to go back on its decision to open on Thanksgiving. People are so upset for the retail workers. How awful that they don't get to spend time with family. That is very true.

I'd like to point out a couple things though. If no one showed up on Thanksgiving, they wouldn't do it again next year. If people wouldn't line up in the middle of the night to get the "great deals" they wouldn't have felt compelled to even try. I've never really been a crack of dawn Black Friday shopper. Perhaps its because I don't understand the pressure to get "that gift" for someone. I understand people have limited budgets for Christmas (or at least we should) and want to stretch if as far as it can.

I submit, however, that all of this is because we all (present company included) have lost sight of what both Thanksgiving and Christmas are supposed to be about. Thanksgiving isn't about food, or family, or football.  Christmas isn't about presents, or decorations, or Santa. Even though I see nothing wrong with any of those things, both of these holidays are about something much bigger than that, they are meant to be worship of the one who gives us all blessings and gave us a Savior to lift us out of the din.

I realize that not everyone believes as I do. However, if you're frustrated at the direction these holidays are taking, our thought processes have to change, first. We've made this bed. We like to blame the "corporations" but they are only reacting to what they think will work and evidently has. WE created this. WE are the only ones who can change it. Perhaps if our thoughts were first on God or perhaps even on our fellow man, then this season could be what many wish it was.

Wasteland

I've always considered myself a writer. But a writer isn't a writer if she doesn't write. I can't believe I have gone almost a year without a blog post and even the entries in my journal are sporadic. I am living in an idea wasteland.

I definitely waste too much time. Facebook, TV shows, shopping, games, they all add up to wasted time. Time that could be spent writing or reading or playing music. I haven't written a song or a story in forever. I wish I could say it's like not breathing to me, but I'm also too practical for that. There's dishes to wash, cat litter to change, money to be earned, doctor's appointments to go to, weight to lose. I posted last week on Facebook that I was thankful for my employment, and I am, but what I wouldn't give to have more hours in the day. By the time I cook for myself a couple times a day, clean up for myself a couple times a day, work, go to the gym for a couple hours, shower, put on makeup, have some time in the WORD. I can't leave those things undone. What other time is there?  What other brain power is there? And how people who don't live by themselves get anything accomplished I will never know.

So, here I go again.  Trying to put my thoughts down. Trying to figure out what it is I even need to say. Desperately hoping to find my voice again.

Remembering JoePa

Joe Paterno died Sunday morning. The media and maybe some of you think that Penn State thought he was a god. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that wasn't what I thought. In fact, I thought just the opposite. He was a man, a man with flaws and not so great fashion sense. He was also a man of loyalty, integrity, and other simple and sometimes forgotten values.

In 1982, I went to University Park as a freshman by some miracle, 'cause my 1060 SAT score (which was not great, but not horrible at the time) sure didn't make me a shoo in to get in at Main Campus. I grew up in Pittsburgh, so I knew how big college football could be. I, like many other freshman, was so excited to be part of the first home football game. I have no idea who we played, but I do remember the feeling of being in that crowd and the rush of watching the team run out of the tunnel with Joe at the head of the line. I don't remember if we won that game, but I do remember it was a great season overall. I remember rushing the field after beating Nebraska in the last seconds of the game and nearly getting knocked over by a Nebraska player, by far the biggest person I'd ever seen in my life. I remember winning the Sugar Bowl that year. Jody, Brenda, and I walked out to Hills Plaza from our dorm hoping to see the team come back. We ended up hitching a ride back to campus and climbing onto the roof of the football building so we could see the team come home. We sat over the door and waved at them all as they came through, even JoePa. He just looked at us like a worried dad and shook his head. 

After my freshman year, I didn't go to as many football games, sometimes the weather kept me away, sometimes the studies kept me away, sometimes the thought of getting pelted with marshmallows kept me away (those things hurt after a few throws). But, it was Penn State, it was hard not to hear the roar from the stadium on a Saturday afternoon and be caught up in it, even if you didn't go to the game. And JoePa was always there.


Once I ventured beyond campus and made some friends amongst the "townies," I discovered that JoePa lived in a little ranch style house near a park in town. And even after winning two national championships during my tenure at Penn State, (yes, that means I was on the 5-year plan) they didn't move out of that house. It's the same house Joe did his last interview from a couple weeks ago. The man made lots of money being a winning football coach, but chose to give that money to Penn State rather than buy an ostentatious home.  Perhaps Tom Brady could take a page from that playbook. (Brady just bought a home for something like 40 million dollars.) Once I made friends with some of the players, I discovered that they would often stop at the house to visit with Coach and SuePa. She would make them bologna sandwiches, shoot the breeze, and talk about school. I heard the story of Bob White and how Joe and Sue insisted that he read 12 books and write reports on them (graded by Sue) before coming to Penn State to play football. My brother had classes with Bob and said he was a great student and a nice guy. There a litany of players that can tell stories about how he touched their lives.

I only saw the man up close once, though. I was a freshman or a sophomore, I can't remember exactly. I lived in South Halls, the dorms closest to downtown. My hall, Hoyt Hall, was just across College Avenue from Bell's Greek Pizza and just down the hill from where the football complex sat at the time. On a spring day, some friends and I attempted to study spread out on the hill behind my dorm. I wish I could remember if it was Jody and Brenda with me, or maybe Adrienne and Lori, but I don't. I just remember looking up and seeing Joe Paterno cutting across the hillside close-by. I guess he was headed to the pizza place on the corner. One of us called out, "JoePa!" he stopped and turned toward us.

"How's school going, girls?" he asked.

We all told him it was fine. He asked what we were studying and we told him. We talked for a minute or so, I don't even remember about what.

He turned to go and he said, "Study hard, now."

And he walked toward town.

Now, that's not a great story. It's probably not even an interesting story or particularly inspiring story. It was not a conversation that was life changing or filled with wisdom. To be honest, it's a moment that I sort of forgot about until the "Penn State Scandal" broke. But I believe this little moment revealed a little of Joe's character. Here was this man, successful, at the top of his field, revered by people at the university and all over the US, and he took the time to stop to talk to some college kids sitting on a hillside. We had nothing to offer him. We weren't influential. We didn't have parents that were influential. He could have waved and kept walking and we would have been thrilled. But he took the time to ask us how we were and to point us to what we were there for, education.



And let me be clear, I realize he was just a man. The press didn't like him particularly because he had no patience for some of their questions. He sometimes came off as arrogant. He had not embraced the technological age. I am sure that being the driven man he was, he wasn't easy to live with as a husband and a father. He freely admitted he's made mistakes. Haven't we all? I've made some doozies, just ask my friends and family. And there's others that no one knows about, times I took the easier, safer way or the way that made me look or feel good. I believe it says somewhere, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and something about taking a plank out of your own eye. Criticism has been he was about money or about protecting the football program. To that I say, if he was about money, he would have taken one of the many offers he had over the years to go elsewhere. If he was only about football alone, he could have very easily allowed his players to fail academically or his boosters to entice players with money like other schools have. JoePa wasn't about any of those things, he was about the students.  I would guess there's many stories like mine out there.

Joe Paterno's legacy, in my experience, is not the wins on the gridiron, but a few moments on a hillside. 

Risky Business

It's been another six months since I wrote a post here!  How am I EVER going to be discovered as a writer/blogger if I don't put it out there for people to see? ;-)

The last post I wrote was about the earthquake we had here in August.  Honestly, those brief tremors were probably the last exciting thing that's happened to me this year.  But, you know after the past couple years of jostling and shaking, I'm okay with that. Job loss, leaving my church family, moving for what seems the 60th time, cancer, money problems, family illness--they've all been a part of the previous years.  So, I guess a lack of excitement has its perks. But it also has its risks.  It makes me think some very foolish and dangerous things, like:

1.  I'm okay
2.  Life is predictable
3.  I have everything under control
4.  I don't really need to rely on anyone else, including God
5.  Safety and security is all that matters
6.  God is finished with using me
7.  The most important person in my life is me

And the list could go on and on (add your own in comments if you like).

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the respite. But I also know that it won't remain this way and I shouldn't desire for it to be so.  The thriving organism is the organism that is changing and adapting. So, as I think about this coming year, I am looking forward in anticipation to what tremors and jostles this life might bring me.  I am ready for my risky thoughts to be like this:

1.  What can I do to bless others?
2.  What can I do to change things near and far from me?
3.   How does God want to leverage my uniqueness for His glory?
4.  What is the new thing that God wants me to do, experience, see this year?
5.  How can I persevere and, even better, shine in the midst of where he has me now?
6.  How can I let go of my grip on it all and trust God more.
I hope you'll join me in responding to some of these questions.  May we all be more of what we were designed to be this year.

So yesterday was the a gorgeous day. The icky humidity was gone, we woke up to temperatures in the 50's and a gleaming blue sky.

About 20 to 30 minutes  before 2 PM, my cat got really whiny. She sat at the window and cried. Then she went down the stairs to the door and cried. Finally she went and hid under the bed.

I was at my desk trying to get some work accomplished when it happened. We live near Quantico, so to have the windows rattle isn't unusual.  That was my first thought, Quantico was really going at it.  Then, I thought maybe Dale had some kind of big truck at his construction site outside. Then I realized, freak, it's an earthquake!!! I jumped out of my chair and ran for the door jam. Then I thought, I'm on the second floor, maybe not so safe! So, I dashed down the stairs and out the door and away from the building. Everyone who was on the property was abuzz.  What was it?  Was it an earthquake?  Jennifer, who lived in CA for a long while, said she'd never experienced anything like it out there.  Rachael wanted me to check the internet, but I'd left my phone in my apartment.  So, I reluctantly went back up the stairs and Googled earthquakes.  It took me to the USGS and the fact that the quake had been a 5.8 and was centered near Mineral, VA.   In Virginia? A 5.8? I knew Mineral was somewhere out 522 toward Culpeper.

Facebook blew up with exclamations of  "was that really an earthquake?" And the news people were all completely rattled (like my pun). Rumors abounded, the weirdest one, the Washington Monument was leaning. It turned out that there is a crack at the top of "the national pen," as I have heard kids called it, and it's closed for the time being. As the day went on we heard of damage in Culpeper and even an apartment complex in DC that was structurally compromised. At my house, as far I can tell the only impact on my place was a drawer and a cabinet thrown open. Of course, the exodus from DC was hellacious, but like that would be surprising at all.

Then I got an e-mail from Pete.  They evacuated his building. In Pittsburgh! Really?  The red circle on the news just grew and grew.  It was felt from GA to Chicago to Nova Scotia.

Then last night at about 8 PM, the first aftershock. It was just a second, but definitely was there. It was 4.2. And I was pretty sure I felt one after I went to bed last night.  The news confirmed it, 12:45 AM around a 3.

I know people who live on the west coast that think we're being silly to freak out so much about this quake.  But holy heck, nothing like this has happened here since the 1800s!  Definitely not a disaster, just a little shake up to an otherwise normal day.