Monday, June 28, 2010


So, I haven't totally disappeared in a restless pique, but both I and my computer are struggling with viruses.  I'll be back when we're up on our feet (or whatever it is that laptops stand on) again.
Blog Med Sig 4

Thursday, June 24, 2010


I saw a movie this week, two of a series, in fact.  They are very popular and I have to say I really enjoyed them, for all that I dragged my feet watching them.  But somehow the story has gotten deep, deep inside of me, awakening a restlessness, a longing. 

I know this yearning, and know very well my powerlessness to meet it.  Most of the time I shush. Reminding myself that my Father knows, He has promised, He sees, He knows I am formed of dust with His spark.  This restlessness comes from the clash of the divinity of that spark with the impatience of my dust. 

Memory begins to lie, to embellish the past with a rosiness that is not quite accurate and a distance that may be. Fear whispers in my ear, painting pictures of a future and a present that is darker, drier and lonelier than is true. 

Tears fall in secret. 

My heart must again be surrendered.

This week I have run, escaped into beautiful and beloved stories: worlds tucked away between paper covers.  Trying to enjoy their stories which somehow somehow soothe although not going quite as deep as the longing the first has reawakened.

A knock comes again to a door from my past.  A door my Father has told me to firmly keep shut.  I will not assuage the restlessness that way.  I obey, grateful for His voice which relieves me of the burden of any decision beside the one I have already made to follow.  "Well done." He whispers.

Did Sleeping Beauty toss and turn in her sleep? 

How thorough was her enchantment? 

Did she get restless, waiting?

But I am not under enchantment.  I am bound to something far more active and true.  I am waiting because I was asked to, by the One I trust most.  And yet there are times where waiting seems almost a punishment, a censure of some sort.

And I take a deep breath and ask Him, "Is it me? Am I the reason for the wait? Am I simply a slow learner?" 

He chuckles, and draws me into a tight embrace.  I can almost smell the sushine on His clothes.


"No, it is not you.  My timing is perfect"

Reassured I go back to my wait.

Restless, true. 

Escaping to tamper down the agitation, the want?      Yes. 

But in the wait, in the struggle to submit my heart, patience grows.
Blog Med Sig 4

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


I have dreams.

They are gossamer, fragile things.

Like the best bone china, I don't often trot them out in public.

They are too dear,
too closely tied to my heart,


But they are.

                                                                They have lasted, hidden away, never forgotten.

They have persevered through years that seem to diminish the possibility of their ever coming true.

But what has been given by the Father of Lights, even dreams, can never really be stolen,

only abandoned.

And I have not abandoned mine.

I treasure them, cherish them, try to do my part to prepare for their arrival.

And most of all draw close, so close to the One who gave, the One who knows when, the One who fulfills.

Blog Med Sig 4

Combing through my archives, searching for the really real with Emily.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

You asked for it, you got it.

Well...ok...a few of you asked for it, but you've still got it.  You can now receive blog postings right in your very own email inbox.  Check it out.  You will still need to come back here, to my nest,  to comment.  And of course, I'd love you all to follow along.  To tell the truth, I get so excited when a new little face appears.  Anyways, a few of you have asked for an email subscription option, so here it is.  I'm all about giving you options.

Who loves ya, baby?
Blog Med Sig 4

Saturday, June 12, 2010


I had another post planned for tonight. But as I was making dinner an idea weighed so heavy on my heart, it took my breath away.

When I was growing up we didn't have a whole lot of money. So when we went on vacation the resort I knew best was KOA. Camping was really the only way we could afford to travel. Last night's devastating flood of a campground in Arkansas has hit home. I found myself wondering what would have happened if someone had known, if just one person could have begun to honk their horn, run around to the tents banging a pot and shouting "Flood! Flood! Run for your lives!" How many people could have been saved?

And then it hit me.

I am one person and I know.

I know of a future event that could be disastrous, eternally. I know that a choice can be made now, which will avoid everlasting pain and fiery flood. All around me strangers, acquaintances, neighbors and friends are soundly sleeping in their tents, unaware of their danger. And here I sit, safely on higher ground, not wanting to disturb their peace.  Silent.  Apathetic.   I don't want to make a ruckus.  I don't want to offend.  I don't want to seem judgemental.  I don't want to be "that" person.  You know the weirdo, who thinks that every conversation is a chance to introduce someone to Jesus.  Except every conversation holds that seed.  How do I know which one will blossom?  Am I really saying that I'd rather be liked, than to help rescue someone from danger, forever.  Is my pride, my reputation worth that much?
Blog Med Sig 4

P.S. If you have no idea what I am talking about, my email is on my profile.  I'd be glad to answer any questions you might have.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


There are moments y'all, when I think I really should  Tweet. This is one of them. It's not even really a blog post, just a moment. I notice life's patterns, the details, coincidences, oddities, whatever you want to call them; the moments where you think "this is so surreal." Today is the primary election day in my state. One of my neighbors is running for Congress. (Actually, a couple of people I know are running.) Now it's not like we're close, personal friends, he just introduced himself a few months ago when he was canvassing the neighborhood. Anyhoo, I am voting for my neighbor today, when oddly enough he comes in and is voting in the next booth (which at our polling place is a small box on a table about big enough to hold a microwave.) It just struck me as so weird to be voting for someone who is currently standing two feet away from me, more like student council than an actual election. It tickled my funny bone a little and I thought I'd share, because that what I want to do now when I'm tickled, share it with you.
Blog Med Sig 4
P.S. So, clearly I am too loquacious to Tweet. Cool.  That's one less password to memorize.

Monday, June 7, 2010

What happens...

What happens when you allow a sweetly silly six year old (say that seven times, fast...I dare you) to play with your camera?

Have you giggled today?
Blog Med Sig 4

Friday, June 4, 2010

Loose Ends

Guess what is decorating my living room this week?

So, I've been home for five days and still have not finished unloading my suitcases.  Is it because I don't want the trip to end or just because unpacking feels eerily close to cleaning, which I kind of hate?  Don't know.  Just thought I'd share my weirdness with you because I like you that much.  Am I the only freak here, or do you feel like unpacking your suitcase is a chore, too?  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?
Blog Med Sig 4

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Flying the Friendly Skies

It all started with a bump. 

About ten years ago one large bump birthed fear.

Granted, it was the middle of the night and I was flying thousands of feet above the chilly Atlantic Ocean with my entire family, but truly it was just a little bit of jolting and rocking.

I awoke in the middle of the night to turbulence on my way to Europe and for some reason it really freaked me out.

Every jolt, drop and shake reawakened me to the idea that if this plane fell out of the sky, I and my family would die.

This logical yet unlikely fear lodged in my mind, setting up housekeeping to torture me every time I got on a plane.

In these last few years I've been attacking this unwelcome guest through prayer: laboring while I fly, trying to trust my Lord.

To trust that it is His Hand which holds me up in the air and it will be His Hand alone which will someday draw me home.

I am at all times safe in His embrace.

These are all awesome truths

but it took work, focus, reminders

- telling my heart to not jump and my respiration to regulate.

Well, this trip was not work.

On a scant two and a half hours of sleep,

with eyes as rosy red as my cheeks (and as dry),

I relaxed and enjoyed a cross country flight.

We experienced turbulence and I was not turbulent.

I did not hold my breath at take off,

my heart did not flutter with every jolt.

I smiled,



and relished flying in my Savior's Hand. 

Gliding peacefully,
Blog Med Sig 4
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