And on a Personal Note. . .

My desire to blog started when I noticed over and over how many of my young teenage friends (mostly those I met through TEC weekends) were posting Bible verses, praise to God, and prayer requests. Though I knew from talking with them how many of them had strong relationships with God, it was (and is) inspirational to me to read Facebook status updates about their spiritual walks.

That's when I realized that I have not been the transparent Christian that I need to be.

My Kaylee

My daughter Kaylee often tells me I'm weird. I just laugh. That's just a family trait, one that she has as well.

One of Kaylee's hobbies is to study people's reactions. In fact, many of our outings could be seen as sociological experiments. She enjoys entering stores or other public places wearing her hillbilly teeth. As part of the fun, my role is to walk 20 feet behind her so I can give her the report about the reactions she receives from people after they've passed her. Recently, she asked me to take her to the hardware store to buy an ax, duct tape, bleach, rope, and a shovel—just so she can see the clerk's response. No, I haven't done it (yet).

The Right Tools for the Job

Yesterday was a frustrating day. I enjoy learning how to do new things, but right then I was feeling inept and unequipped  for the tasks that were before me. As I dwelt on it (and my attitude began its expected downward loop), I compared it to learning a new vocabulary word when I was a kid, only to find out that the definition of the word I was looking up included three more words that I didn't comprehend.

Early this morning, I awoke to mull over yesterday's emotions and feel sorry for myself. I decided I really just need my Swiss Army knife.

My Swiss Army knife is no simple Swiss Army knife. It's a fancy one. It has a magnifying glass, scissors, Phillips screwdriver, regular screwdriver, pen, ruler, fingernail file, and a toothpick, among many others.¹ The truth is, I don't even know what half of the tools are, but at least I'm ready!

An Invitation

Today I have no metaphors for you. Today I want to offer you an invitation.

This is a picture of our new sanctuary. This sanctuary was built not only because our congregation wanted more space.  We built it so we can grow a community of believers.

When you come to our church, you won't find a lot of perfect people. In fact, you won't even find one. You'll find the broken, the healing, and the redeemed. You'll find hypocrites. You'll find saints. You'll find a group of people who know that they are going to heaven, and you'll find others who just aren't sure yet. You'll find those who seek to know more answers and those who rest in a simple assurance of salvation.

The Cover-up

We're fixing things up a bit at my house. Jerome and I decided our teenage daughter needs the room with two closets, not our son who is at college. While we're in the process of moving them, we figured we may as well add some fresh paint.

I hired a couple of painters, but before they could paint, I had to do the prep work. In one room, I took off the wallpaper border, and in the process of getting the stubborn stuff off the wall, some of the paint came down with it, leaving a nasty, uneven mess. I decided to patch it up myself using spackling paste.

Let me stop here. Have I told you that I'm not very handy? I take a little pride in not requiring my husband to do everything. After all, I can read directions as well as the next person. So I patched. I ran a wet washcloth over my work when I was done and thought that I had made it fairly even.

For My Friends Who Are Struggling

As I read through Facebook updates and hear so many of my friends struggle through tough times, I simply don't have any words so many need. I can, however, share a song that has meant a lot to me. Peace be with you.

One of Us

If you sat down and looked your favorite teachers in the eye, they would most likely tell you that their worst year of teaching was their first and that, of all college courses, they learned the most during their student teaching.

I frequently wonder what happened to those poor students I taught in that year and a half. They were really guinea pigs who taught me a lot more than what I taught them.