01/03/2012

Oh, Nathan. He is an asker of profound questions. The original topic of discussion was homophones. Nathan is intrigued by the English language and, whereas most of us are content with being generally baffled by the ins-and-outs of grammar rules (and the continual breaking of such rules), Nathan feels the need to master each concept. Back to homophones. "Whether, whether, whether, whether, whether you like it or not weather, weather, weather, weather, weather is cold, warm, or hot." All I know about homophones I learned from this VeggieTales ditty. I'll admit it. But, enter Nathan, and suddenly I'm required to have a formal definition, a boatload of examples, and explanation for why the folks inventing words didn't just come up with something that sounded original.

So, I'm listing all the homophones that immediately come to mind:

Too. Two. To.

I. Eye.

Dear. Deer.

Pray. Prey.

Be. Bee.

Where. Wear.

It's not a comprehensive list, obviously, but off the top of my head, I thought it was pretty good.

"What about 'right'?" Nathan asks. "You know, like, 'I'm usually right' or 'I'm going to write you a little note'."

I confirm that, indeed, these were homophones. He asks about several more and they are all definitely homophones. Then he says, "What about 'ark'?" He goes on to explain the two different definitions. One being a large boat used to hold a mobile zoo. The second being a box used to carry stone tablets with rules.

Unfortunately, these words are actually the same word. And I made the mistake of saying so. Conversation shift. We were then discussing the contents of the ark (the NOT mobile zoo edition). The Ark of the Covenant. What was a covenant? Where is the box now? Why couldn't people touch the ark-box? It was a long, in-depth theological discussion. With my six-year-old.

It was also several days ago. But, this morning while I was driving to WalMart, that discussion came back to mind and I found that I was fixated, not so much on the ark, but on the curtain. Do you know the one? The curtain that separated the Ark of Covenant from all but the High Priest. And, while I'm no Bible historian (and I'm not going to research this right now), I recall that even the High Priest only went into the room with the Ark something like once a year. And it was a terrifying experience. Because the Presence of God was in that Ark. And His presence is not something to approach flippantly.

But there He dwelt, among His people, until the moment when Jesus "gave up His spirit" as the ultimate sacrifice. And at that moment, the moment Jesus died, the curtain tore from top to bottom. Suddenly this room, with the Ark of the Covenant, which had been strictly forbidden to "common folks" and which was only approachable under the strictest of conditions (after a series of sacrifices, by only the High Priest, only on certain occasions, and with great fear and trembling), was open for all to see. Approachable.

Whoa. That makes one doozy of an adjustment if you are an Israelite, comfortable with the standards and rigmarole of Old Testament law. Fortunately for me, I was not born into a generation of pigeon sacrifices or lengthy redemption ceremonies. I was born in the PC generation (sure, computers, too!). I'm thinking of "Post Curtain."

So, it ought to be easy. I can just waltz up to the "Ark Box". Skip the lamb. No incense. No fire. No priest.

But, I've discovered something about myself: I'm a seamstress.

2012 years after that curtain tore, stubborn Rachel seeks to sew it back together. Stitch by painstaking stitch. I don't think I'm the only seamstress.

Much has been made, at least in my experience, of the legalism and standards of Christianity. And, while I'm not trying to throw morals out the window or say that "anything goes", I want to get in touch with my seam ripper this year.

Because I innately understand legalism. Something inside me feels the need to provide my own environment of purgatory. Right here. Right now. Can I beat myself up? You betcha! Can I carry my own guilt around? Oh, yeah! Can I lock the bars on my opened prison cell? I can. And I do.

Because I seek to sew the curtain.

I'm not big on New Year's Resolutions. But this year, I am resolved to use my seam ripper. In the areas of my life where I have sewn the curtain shut and have blocked forgiveness, redemption, freedom, and Jesus, I want to cut the thread. There is much of the Bible that I understand. There is much that I can explain to inquisitive Nathan. But what of freedom in Christ? What do I know of that? Not enough.

John 10:10 "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

10/08/2011

At nearly-six, you're not too big

to rock to sleep at night.

You're not too old to kiss, to hold,

to sleep with a nightlight.

At nearly-six, you're not too big

for flannel pajamas and dinosaur tees.

You're not aware that people might stare

if you fall and you skin your knee.

At nearly-six, you do not care

if you fit in society's mold.

You just live and laugh and love because,

at just nearly-six you aren't old.

At nearly-six, your Mom recalls

miles of memories.

And it seems to her a paradox

how quickly those miles can flee.

Nearly-six years of shared stories.

Nearly-six years of your smile.

Nearly-six years of bottles and meals.

And, oh, how nearly-six flies!

Nearly-six, will you stay a bit longer?

Will you linger while I take you in?

I do not need to turn back time's dial,

just for a time cease it to spin.

Nearly-six and he's checking for loose teeth,

saying that he's growing tall,

asking grown-up questions,

and calling toddlers "small."

Nearly-six and he's fast comprehending

that some things can't be understood:

That the world is dark, that fear is real,

and that somehow God is still good.

Oh, twenty six year old Mother,

don't let these moments slip past.

Nearly-seven is just 'round the corner.

Fill the years with things that will last.

4/19/2011

I have a habit. I'm a sing-song-name-inserter.

I'll expound.

There was this little ditty that my Mom used to sing to us as kids, "Bye-O, Bye-O, Baby Bunting, Bye-O, Bye-O, Baby Girl...". Once I had Nathan, I found myself naturally customizing the song for him: "Bye-O, Bye-O, Baby Nathan, Bye-O, Bye-O, Baby Peej...". (It has been such a long time since I even recalled the nickname "Peej"!)

Then came Nia. "Bye-O, Bye-O, Baby Nia...".

But my habit started to spread. It no longer solely influenced my singing of that traditional family ditty (I hear it was passed down from my Great Grandma Lottie and goodness knows where she learned it!). It sneaked into songs that call for no customization or personalization at all. How about this lullaby:

"...and down will come Nia, cradle and all."

And it didn't stop with lullabies. I found myself teaching the kids to insert the names of dear friends and family members in the "Peanut Butter" song. Do you know the one? The one where it should be a peanut sitting on a railroad track. More commonly, at my house, it could be heard:

"Lottie sat on a railroad track,

heart was all a-flutter.

Round the bend came the 5:15,

Toot! Toot!

Lottie Butter!"

It's gruesome, really, I know. But it's a habit, and I'm having a hard time kicking it.

Today I got thinking about the old song, "Oh, how I love Jesus." Most of you will know it. But in case you don't:

"Oh, how I love Jesus.

Oh, how I love Jesus.

Oh, how I love Jesus,

Because He first loved me."

Two or three repeats and I find myself sticking in other people's names.

"Oh, how I love Liam.

Oh, how I love Liam...."

But then I hit that last line and I think to myself, "Liam didn't love me first." So why do I love Liam? Well, of course, with Liam the answers are simple, and straightforward. He's my son. He has those cheeks that just BEG to be loved. He is part of our family. He is mine! I love him naturally and innately.

But...

But what about the people that we don't want to love? What about the people that don't seem lovable? Maybe you're a natural people-lover, and maybe everyone who comes to your mind brings thoughts of love and smiles, but I can think of a few people that I umm, struggle to love. What about them? Why do I love them?

Because I'm commanded to, perhaps? Because I feel like it's polite? Because I think the expectation is that I show love to each individual I meet? (And, by the way, I'm regularly a major flunk in the subject of love, so don't read this as a proclamation of successfully loving the truly irritating!)

And then it hit me: I should be able to stick anyone's name in those first three lines because the last line never changes.

He. First. Loved. Me.

Oh, how I love Nicolas.

Oh, how I love my children.

Oh, how I love my neighbors.

Oh, how I love the policeman who has just pulled me over.

Oh, how I love this pauper.

Oh, how I love this prince.

Oh, how I love the pretty.

Oh, how I love the plain.

Oh, how I love the just-plain-ugly!

Oh, how I love you, and you, and you...

"Because He first loved me."

And, at the end of the day, I really just want to see people the way Jesus sees them.

11/9/2010

I've spent a good deal of the morning thinking about my Grandma Durling. I think it's because I am making roast beef for dinner, and roast beef always makes me think of my Grandma!

Grandma has taught me so many things. The best roast beef, for instance, is cheap, cooked low and long, and made on the stove top. The best bread takes hours, a touch of sugar, and scalded milk, but is totally worth the effort! Time spent picking strawberries is not time wasted. Fresh corn can be cut off the cob and frozen and will retain it's amazing crunch and sweetness when reheated.

But, not all the lessons Grandma taught were culinary. Grandma taught us that to serve others is to love them well. Hard work is our privilege. Clothes smell better when they've been line-dried. No picnic is complete without damp washcloths in a Ziploc. Faithfulness even when inconvenient is genuine faithfulness. Learning is important. God makes folks from the most unlikely backgrounds His children.

Grandma isn't a depressed person, but she isn't much of a smiler. I guess she is more prone to seriousness than lightheartedness. But in recent years, more and more, we have enjoyed the privilege of her smile. She laughs as she recalls Grandpa knocking over the Christmas tree. She laughed when an Aunt accidentally put trick candles on her birthday cake. ("Who would do that to Grandma?") She smiles to see my children, her great-grandchildren, when they get the chance to spend time together.

These have been some of my thoughts this morning. Because roast beef takes me back to Grandma's kitchen and, seriously, there is almost no place on earth I enjoy more than that kitchen!

05/31/2010

A few weeks ago we had family pictures taken. I loved so many of them! James and Jacklen Taylor (Outlaw Photography) took our pictures. We enjoyed the experience and the results! I felt like J and J did a great job capturing the spirit of our family. Here are some of my favorites:

I spent much of this afternoon helping a friend who was dealing with some domestic violence issues. It was a real honor to be able to help, but even more than that, it was a good opportunity for me to appreciate my family! I have never had a family member lay a hand on me with violent intentions. I have rarely had a family member so much as raise their voice to me in anger. It isn't often that I stop to think about how rare and special it is to have the kind of family that I have!

But tonight, that is exactly what I am thinking.

I love, love, love you all!

05/15/2010

Independent and free.

Beautiful.

Strong.

The girl with the hair that's on fire.

Funny and Fanciful.

Driven.

Alive.

The girl with the hair that's on fire.

Contagious and friendly.

Passionate.

Feisty.

The girl with the hair that's on fire.

Father and Mother.

Blessed.

In love--

With the girl with the hair that's on fire.

05/06/2010

"And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

12/15/2009

I haven't blogged in quite a while. You may have noticed. My delinquency has been due to several things.

1. Due to the fact that we have three small children. And they all like attention.

Every...

last...

one!

We have so much fun with these three! Lottie is mobile--crawling all over the place and pulling herself up on any furniture or person that will allow it. Nia is smack-dab in the middle of the terrible twos. She will throw herself on the ground and pitch a tantrum. For the most part, we remain untouched. Nathan is a willing participant in almost anything. He loves to help me cook and bake, make crafts, clean, etc. He is, for the most part, cheerful. Love 'em all!

Ahem, back to my list of excuses.

2. Due to the fact that we have been in the middle of holiday celebrations. We've been decorating our Christmas tree, preparing Thanksgiving food, stuffing stockings, wrapping gifts, and baking gingerbread men.

3. Due to the fact that we had some good friends from California come and visit us! Paul and Emily came and stayed with us for a few days. We had a great time enjoying their company and showing them around San Antonio! They are now back in Michigan (they decided to move back).

4. Due to the fact that we've been enjoying Christmas lights! We enjoy going as a family in the evenings to see Christmas lights. Sometimes we just stay around town, and sometimes we head to some 'spectacular' destination. A few days ago we drove into the San Antonio and went through the University of the Incarnate Word's "Light the Way" display. The kids--especially Nia this year--are loving the holiday lights!!

5. Due to the fact that Nick's been busy at work. Chili's is hosting Christmas parties and embracing an influx of sales during the holiday season.

And, lastly, (6.) due to the fact that we are, in fact...

DUE!

Liam Calvin Jones

due date: April 29, 2010

Unlike in a typical pregnancy, I am already past the halfway mark and am hardly showing at all. I am carrying this baby much differently than any of the others. But, according to our most recent sonogram (yesterday) the baby looks good! We are so tickled to even the gender score: at least for now. =)

Love to all!

06/04/2009

The dishes are washed.

The laundry is done.

The girls are in bed.

Nathan and Daddy are bonding.

The chickens, goats, dog, and stray cats have been fed.

The chairs have been pushed neatly back up to the table.

The food scraps are in the compost pile.

A fresh garbage bag lines my trash can.

Even the counters are cleared.

It isn't often that I can go to bed without a long to-do list for the next day...without a carryover of necessary chores, if you will...but tonight, yawning often, I lay down with just one item on tomorrow's to-do list:

Glorify.

("Whatever you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of GOD.")

05/31/2009

Lottie Caroline Jones
7 Months

I think this must be what love looks like:

Nia Madelynn Jones
1 Year and 9 Months

I think love must look a lot like this, too:

Nathan Paul Jones
3 Years 8 Months

I know that love (and laughter) look a lot like this:

Rachel Lynn Jones
24 Years 4 Months

I never get tired of seeing love in action. My kids. Their Daddy. My husband.

(And all of my 'thank yous' are directed toward the Giver of Love.)

Good Friday, 2009

If you've lived with me for any extended period of time, you've probably seen exactly how an anxiety attack manifests itself in my particular case. Some people, people who know me 'extra well', know how to handle the situation. Nick, Kyle, my parents--these people know what medications to run for, what things to say/not say and do/not do, and they have insight into the complicated and irrational train of thought that is running through my mind. Thank goodness for them!

I am sometimes curious what my children will think of these episodes. They aren't all that frequent, but they are usually memorable! I think it must be difficult for them to understand what's happening. And, frankly, it should be difficult to comprehend: It doesn't make sense. Still, I wonder...

The other day (maybe it has been a week or so ago now) I had a terrible anxiety attack. After my medicine had started to kick in and I was able to communicate on a semi-rational level, Nathan started asking me, "What's wrong, Mom? What's the matter?" I had to stop and think about this. I couldn't say 'nothing', but I couldn't exactly pinpoint what the problem might be. Finally I just said, "Nathan, Mommy has 'scare-oos'". This is the word Nathan uses to describe being scared. And that seemed to make sense to him. And then Nathan told me what I would tell him in a similar situation:

"But, Mommy, monsters aren't real."

This is what I have said to him. But I was wrong. Sometimes, monsters ARE real. Sickness, disease, pain, heartbreak, death: these monsters are VERY real. And it's the human condition to have these monsters lurking in our closets and under our beds. This comes to my mind on good Friday.

Because we say "Good" Friday--and for us, it is! BUT, think about all the real monsters that Jesus was encountering on this day 2,009 years ago. Pain. Heartbreak. Death. These monsters God took upon Himself willingly. Why? So we would have the opportunity to live unbound by these exact things.

I pray for glimpses of monster-free living (read: heaven) while I'm walking down here on earth. And I keep walking because I have the hope of heaven. Where would we be without hope?

"Yes, Nathan, monsters ARE real. But, Nathan, Jesus is real...and Jesus already triumphed over the monsters!"

12/25/2008

The other day Nathan was playing with a flashlight: a gift from his Great Grandma Durling (and one of his favorites, too!). He turned the flashlight on me so my shirt had a bright circle on it and then posed this question:

"Mom, do you shine like the light?"

Have you ever been humbled by someones naivety? After all, Nathan didn't know that he was asking the question: Do I shine like THE Light?

"Not as brightly as I should, Nathan." And thanks for reminding me.

11/27/2008

It is Thanksgiving. We just got back home after spending a wonderful day with Andrew, Sabrina, their kids, and some family friends. We're still stuffed to the gills! Hope everyone else had a wonderful day!

Lottie is the newest addition to our Thanksgiving list. Here she is (yesterday):

I'm thinking about being thankful--that is what we're supposed to do on Thanksgiving, right? I'm compiling my mental list--which is extensive and includes big things (like family) and small things (like flavored coffee creamer). I'm wondering what I would be thankful for if it suddenly disappeared. They say you don't fully appreciate things until they are gone:

Maybe this is the "real" reason I'd like to get rid of, say, fire ants...or migraines...or Obama (who conveniently shares initials with 'Body Odor'--just another B.O. that stinks). I just want to fully appreciate these things. Not really.

Negativity aside, Nick and I look back on an incredible year. We dealt with stress, change, and a roach infestation. We look back with gratitude (though our gratitude isn't directly aimed at the cockroaches). I am thankful for bills that are paid. I am thankful for three healthy children. I am thankful for a dog that hogs the bed. I am thankful--in a really big way--for Nick and all that he brings to our marriage and our family. I am thankful for a God who gives and takes away. I'm thankful for many things.

Now, if I could only learn to be content.

11/21/2008

Today I was listening to the radio when I heard a song by Warren Barfield called "Love Is Not A Fight." Because I probably couldn't express this more eloquently, I'll just put the lyrics here. I think of Nick when I hear this song. When everyone else walks away from marriage may we continue to fight for love.

"Love is not a place
To come and go as we please
It's a house we enter in
And then commit to never leave

Lock the door behind you
Throw away the key
We'll work it out together
Let it bring us to our knees

Love is a shelter in the raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
If we try to leave, may God send His angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word
That they can fall into
But when they're falling out
Keeping that word is hard to do

Love will come to save us
If we'll only call
He will ask nothing of us
But demand we give our all

I will fight for you.
Would you fight for me?
It's worth fighting for"

09/23/2008

Two months from today is the official "due date" for our third child. I hadn't seen a doctor since my first trimester. Which Wich (Nick's new employer) doesn't yet provide health benefits, so when we left Starbucks, we lost health insurance. Of course, we knew this would happen and had taken into consideration the ramifications, etc. We looked into the cost of Cobra (continued coverage) and had estimated our monthly cost at around $800/mo. We figured this would suffice until we were able to obtain private health insurance. We had to wait to become privately insured until after the baby was born. Pregnancy is a "preexisting condition", and this eliminates the possibility of private insurance.

Well, this is all technical, of course, but the best laid plans of Nick and Rachel failed when we received official paperwork from Cobra. They were going to charge us more than twice what we had expected each month to continue coverage! No thanks! But then what? We didn't really want to put the birth of a child on a payment plan. Those hospital stays are never cheap. As I was doing research I came across a government program called CHIP Perinatal. It is designed to offer an insurance policy, through the state, to people who make too much to qualify for Medicaid. I did a little looking into the program, figured we might qualify, and filled out the application. All the while PRAYING!

Several weeks later I received a letter in the mail--they were denying me coverage because it appeared that we made too little money and would qualify for Medicaid. I thought they had surely calculated our income incorrectly. They had. We earn twice the amount they figured we made. So we submitted a request for review. And then, the shock of our lives: we "still qualified for Medicaid." They were pretty insistent. I kept saying to Nick, "Yes! I would love to qualify for Medicaid...I mean, they would completely pay for everything...but there is absolutely no way we will qualify." I was wrong. We qualified! I was completely amazed. Prayers answered--above and beyond what we ever would have expected.

This baby will be "free." Unbelievable.

So, without paying a dime (okay, I paid a dollar for parking) I saw an ObGyn on Monday. Nick stayed at home with the kids. The doc was wonderful! And, the best news? The baby looks great! Healthy, developing well, and...

Lottie Caroline Jones: Lottie, diminutive form of the name Charlotte. Meaning: FREE

We couldn't plan this if we tried! I'm so tickled to think of having two little girls. I would have been equally delighted either way, but it is so fun to have a better "picture" of our future family.

We took this picture of an antique nameplate when we were camping in the summer. Of course, we had no idea at that point what the gender of the baby would be, but my belly was just starting to bump and I figured this was a photo op we couldn't miss...ya know...on the off chance that it WAS a Lottie.

Want to hear about our other completely unexpected blessing?

A few weeks ago we purchased a pre owned van. I completely love it, by the way! So much more space for our growing family. And, when Nathan is seated in the back, it is less likely that the objects he throws will make contact with my head. =) Anyway, we were driving our van the other day and swung into a McDonalds. Nathan wanted chicken and a toy. Nick had just parked the car and was opening the sliding door when, BUMP!, someone driving a large black SUV completely backed into us. The damage was minimal and only aesthetic: I'm pretty sure a plunger would fix it. Nick wanted to do the right thing and told the man that they should exchange information. Turns out the hit man didn't have insurance. He asked Nick if he could just pay us off. Nick asked for $200: the exact cost of the stroller we've been hoping to get.

I'd accept a dent for a great double stroller that accommodates toddlers, infant seats, etc. any day.

And I did!

05/26/2008

You've probably heard this poem. It's authorship seems a bit fuzzy (Edward O'Brien vs. Charles Province). Nonetheless, for this Memorial Day, I post it here. I find the last section especially poignant.

------------------------------------
It is the Soldier, not the reporter
who has given us freedom of press.

It is the Soldier, not the poet
who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer
who gives us freedom to demonstrate.

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag.
----------------------------------------

The ultimate sacrifice: Giving your life to protect anthers right to reject the very ideal you stand for. (Reminds me a lot of Jesus.)

It seems rather odd to me that after taking this all in the general response is to fire up the barbecue.

05/07/2008

I'm a 'jotter.' I jot thoughts, prayers, quotes, and random ramblings in the strangest places. I find these little remnants of thought scribbled on book margins, on small pieces of paper, typed into a nameless word document, etc. Tonight I came across a book that I read several years ago. It is full of scribbles. I perused the jottings. Some that struck me:

"God, You know I love to 'talk' through the issues with you. Sometimes even after I've clearly heard You speak...I'm still asking questions. Help me to learn to be quiet--and just WALK."

"One request: Give me the wisdom, grace, and maturity to reflect Your Son even when You don't spare me my cross."

"I think that taking up my cross is a continual thing. Sometimes, when I'm tired, I set the cross down. But I know I shouldn't. Help me to bear my cross continually."

"God, help me to experience truth. Moreover, help me to recognize truth even when I don't experience it, but only hear it."

"...maybe my own power would suffice, but even if it did, would not YOUR power be all the greater?"

"I need continual grace--whether or not this means I soar. Just happy to plod provided I'm plodding in the direction You are pointing."

"There is nothing so precious to me that You will not be its avowed enemy if it is keeping me from Your plan for my life. Thank you!"

"You know my heart--the prayers I won't write down." This one struck me the most.

(a list of God-names from a favorite song on one page) "Elbow-healer, Super hero, Heartache-healer, secret keeper, Shepherd, Savior, Pasture-maker, Creator, Maker, Life-Sustainer, Comforter, Healer, Redeemer, Lord, King, Beginning, End. I AM."

"...I know what it is to be more comfortable with bondage than freedom. Take that inclination away from me."

"...Some days I would like to abandon my cross. Sometimes it weighs too much. Sometimes it's too embarrassing. Sometimes I want to give in and commit whatever sin would take my cross off for a while. But when I decided to follow, I became one with the cross--and now, it is the cross I report to for those very times when I have tried to take it off."

"Beincarnation: 'I hope the world sees Jesus today, and I hope it looks a lot like me.'"

This little trek through my own history proved encouraging to me tonight. Guess I'll keep on jotting!

04/25/2008

Sabrina tagged me. I'm supposed to describe myself, as I was today, in 6 words. I've had more flattering days, but today was today, so here goes:

1. Indebted
2. Exhausted
3. Tender
4. Reticent
5. Broken
6. Beautiful

I'm indebted to my husband. Nick consistently steps in, steps up, and steps forward when I need him most. I'm exhausted. I'm tender towards my children. I wish I could touch their faces one more time before bed...smell their hair...kiss their noses. I'm reticent...mostly thoughts and not words. Mostly inside and not out. And I guess on these days where I'm so much less than I'd wish to be, I replay a favorite song, because it describes me:

Broken and Beautiful (Mark Schultz)

"...And it’s beautiful, beautiful
Come as you are
Surrender your heart
Broken and beautiful, beautiful
Come as you are
Surrender your heart
Broken and beautiful

Cause there’s nothing more beautiful at all
Than when His sons and daughters call, broken..."

I'm not follow-up tagging anyone. Guess I've never been good at forwarding emails or playing tag. Still, I enjoyed this exercise in self-assessment.

03/22/2008

"Easter" has three days. Good Friday...Saturday...and Easter Sunday. Much is made of Good Friday and Easter Sunday, but not so much about today, Saturday.

Did God need those extra hours to work His plan of redemption? I think not. Did God find himself "stuck" by the prophesy that the temple would be destroyed and rebuilt in three days? I highly doubt it--after all, He played a pretty significant role in prophesy. So why, I wonder, is there that 'extra' day?

I don't think it was coincidental that three days were chosen to complete the Easter process, but I have been wondering about this Saturday, sandwiched in the middle of defeat and victory, and questioning.

Did You want us to doubt? Did You want us to grieve? Did You want us to wonder if we'd been misled? Or did You want us to believe? Did You want us to watch and wait expectantly. Surely You knew we would disappoint. And perhaps that final, largest failure was significant. We gave up on You. But Sunday is less than 24 hours away!

How many Saturdays have I endured? Dark days where I grasp for what has often been seen clearly, but what is currently covered from my sight. Days where I wait, less sure than I ought to be, for the Promise Keeper to come through...again...even though He has never once failed. Days following some glamorous experience when walls crumble and nothing is as it was...and I wait...or I run...or I mourn. I am unaware that Sunday WILL come. Because Easter is celebrated once a year, but the God of Easter is with us yesterday, today, and forever.

Sometimes He allows Saturday to knock the breath right out of us. It's not fun. But...this is so almost...well, silly. Remember Annie (a childhood favorite of mine, what can I say??)--oh, little theologian:

"The Son'll come out tomorrow (okay, liberty taken on the spelling of Son),
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be SON!
Just thinkin' about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow....
till there's none!
When I'm stuck with a day that's gray and lonely,
I'll just stick out my chin and grin and say:
Oh, the Son'll come out tomorrow
So you gotta hang on till tomorrow...Come what may.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow! You're only a day away!"

03/11/2008

These are some pictures from our weekend trip to Hermann Park. This is a great park, adjacent to the zoo, and also has one of my new 'favorite places': The Japanese Garden. The first picture is Queenie snoozin' in her stroller. She's really packing on the pounds! I adore those chubby cheeks! The train that runs in a large loop around the park. This is actually a brand new train--the old train was, well, old...and in pretty sorry condition. This is a tremendous improvement. See the little boy running toward the train? That is Nathan. As soon as he saw the train he took off running and yelling, "Come on, Daddy! Train!" I pictured my two boys attempting a Western-movie-style stunt: trying to jump onto a moving train. Nathan wasn't quite fast enough...but he ran (with Nick following him) until he was nearly out of my sight.
"Train tracks." He likes to walk down the middle of them. Don't post comments about how dangerous this is...he is more than supervised, AND, the one and only train that uses that track had just gone by and takes about 10-15 minutes to make a loop.
Now on to my favorite part of the day! This garden is beautiful! I cannot wait to see it later in the Spring and Summer. I thought several times about Eden as I walked through this garden. "Why would you ever want to leave?" Meandering creeks with rocky waterfalls. Brilliant blooms and vibrant greens. Wow. Mom Jones, you are going to love this place!
Nick has a wonderful eye for photography, don't get me wrong, but would it be possible to get a bad shot of this??
Nathan's favorite part of the Japanese Garden:
If I had been visiting the garden alone, I would have situated myself somewhere near the edge of this river and spent some time reading my Bible and praying. It seems an appropriate spot to focus on the Creator. It is not often that this restless soul finds a place where she would hope to linger long...but, I believe this is one of those spots that calls us to 'be still and know.'