So, you will be noticing some old or reoccuring themes in some of the posts here. Just go with it. I haven't lost my mind, just cleaing up the drafts folder.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Psalm 139:13-18

13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.

I have friends whose oldest boy was born without one of his hands. His arm is near the full length of the other one, but his hand is not there. While for others who do not know him it may be a surprise to see him when first meeting him, it has become to me, part of who he is. I really don’t notice it usually. He is so much more than the absence of his hand. It also helps that he isn’t still for more than five seconds at a time.

From the time he was very young he has been fitted with prosthesis to get him use to it. As he ages the complexity of the hand will improve. It is thought it may be so intricate as to play the piano some day. It is truly amazing what science can afford each new generation.

On Sunday I had the privilege of filling in for the three, four and five class. He was in the class. Our lesson was on how God created us, each one differently, each in His image, and each he knew since before we were born. We spoke on how some are tall, some are short, some have dark skin, some have light skin, but each loved equally by God and no one person ought to think himself more important than he is.

Our craft was to measure each child’s height, arm length, leg length, head circumference, and then each child would trace their hand and draw a self portrait in the designated rectangle.

When I got to this child, I measured the arm with the hand and wrote down the length. I moved on to his leg. He said, “Hey, what about this one? This one is different.” So, I said, “Okay, we can measure that one.” I finished measuring and once I was finished with all the other kids, I helped them trace their hands. I got to him again and traced his hand. And he said, “I want to trace this hand too, so everyone knows it’s me.” I said, “Okay, we can do that!”

As I began to trace his little nubby as they call it, I couldn’t help but be so excited that he was celebrating what many people would lament. I drew from around where his arm began to taper to the end and brought it up around the other side. As he lifted his arm off the paper I saw one perfectly formed hand next to an oddly misshapen nubby. As I looked at the paper I saw a thing of beauty, and though a hand was missing, it was complete and as it should be. It is my favorite craft I’ve been involved with to date.

“Suffer the little children to come unto Me.”, Jesus said. I’m so thankful for it, because kids have a way of rebuking adults of which they are blissfully unaware. There are many things I wish I could change about myself. I wish I were shorter, didn’t have the bone structure of my German heritage, could actually grow finger nails, and there are other things as well. But I cannot change my genetic makeup. And I shouldn’t want to. And when I see someone with something that has the potential of limiting him much more than any of my issues, I am reminded that I am ungrateful. And I realize I have forgotten that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Are You Freaking Kidding Me?

The things I am about to mention I did not see live. So, I am gathering information from news articles and video when I could find them. Having prefaced that, I'd like comment on Representative Wilson calling out during President Obama's speech, and Kanye West being his normal idiot self.



Representative Wilson, though ill timed and untactful at best was responding to a hotly debated national, high budget concern. I do not think he did the Republican party any favors with his outburst, but let's get real. In 1856 Preston Brooks beat Charles Sumner over the head until he was unconcious! That is a true scandal. That is something to apologize over and over about, not a sophomoric outburst. Wilson has apologized to the President directly. I wish people would focus on the topic of discussion that drew such a cry as opposed to repremanding the crier. He apologized, he knows he was an idiot for it, now move on. Smoke and mirrors, smoke and mirrors!



Contrastly, Kanye West grabs the microphone from a teenager accepting and award and says whatever he wants and people are "so over it". I mean like totally, how many times can he possibly say sorry? It's not like he pushed her or anything!



I tried to write my best valley girl, but I really cannot stand the intonation and I must get it out of my head now.



But my point is this, his remark was about a music video. A music video people. Who cares!? People are willing to move past his rudeness and get back to the business of entertainment, but we cannot let go of you lie and get back to serving the American people.



Please do not misunderstand. I do not think it is in any way becoming of anyone to disrupt a speech and especially that of the President. But with the topic at hand, I think we can all realize he let his emotions get the best of him. I've heard more strongly worded nonsense when listening to football recaps Monday morning.



I read one article that said Wilson meant to say "boy" at the end of his outburst. Oh please, get over it. The only people making a big deal out of the President's skin color are his supporters. I don't get it! My disagreements with him are soley on policy. Hence I dislike the governing policies just as much if not more so, of Nancy Pelosi. I have nothing nice to say about her and will end my mention of her post haste as to retain my Christian witness!



So I guess if I'm ever to make a public spectacle of myself I should be certain it is over somethign superfluous and inane. Heaven forbid I should voice my disdain for something potentially impacting billions of dollars and millions of people!

Excuse Me, Excuse Me, What's My Motivation?

I have been thinking a lot about running lately.  Mostly because I’ve been doing a lot of running.  More truthfully, slow jogging, but you get the picture.  I am training for a half marathon.  It is going to be the longest I’ve ever run at one time.  I suspended my gym membership to utilize the beauty of the outdoors, but with the weather this summer, it has been a constant game of thunderstorm tetris.  Now with the humidity we’ve seen the last two weeks, I have an added challenge.  But, no one ever said reaching a goal would be easy.  So, I continue to push myself, to try to go faster, farther, and keep my mind on my form and breathing. 

A lot can go through your mind while jogging.  I’ve prayed for nearly everyone I know and daydreamed about many things.  I’ve also thought about the apostle Paul and his use of the analogy of our Christian life being a race.  

I realize going into my “race”, that I’m not going to win.  Some would say, why would you try at something you know you won’t win? My goal is to finish.  If I finish, I win.  That is my prize.  Some may race for the prize of first over the finish line.  The day may come when that may be my goal.  For now, to finish without walking is my goal.  If I must walk because like the other day the humidity made it so I had to chew the air I was breathing, then so be it.  But my goal is to finish with a 14 minute average.  Starting this adventure my average was more like 15 minutes.  

Jogging is a very solitary activity.  It is in contrast to most things I enjoyed as a child and a teenager.  Volleyball, not so fun with one person.  There are only so many times you can bump the ball to yourself or practice setting, and then you just look sad.  Basketball, sure you can practice layups,  dribbling, and rebounds even, but again, there comes a point when you just want at least one other person to challenge you.  On the contrary, jogging for me is best when I am alone. 

 

On the occasion I find myself at the track by myself I relish it.  When people come and start jogging around I find myself comparing our speed, form, and breathing.  I become more focused on them than I am on myself which, for a jogger, is mental surrender.  So, I remind myself that this is for me.  It does not matter if others finish first.  I may be jogging more miles, and they may be training for speed and I’m training for endurance.  And that got me wondering what is that prize Paul is talking about? 

 

I started out trying to go fast, working on speed and wanting to be done within a certain amount of time.  Then I realized I needed to go for distance and started to work at going farther and farther.  The more miles I did, the better I became and naturally the time started to fall off as I became faster.  My goal of distance helped me reach my secondary goal of speed.  The secondary goal that for too long I had as the primary.  Incidentally, the last I ran, my average was just over 13 minutes, so it even helped me surpass my goal of speed.  

In the analogy of the race in the Bible, Paul speaks of running the race to win the prize.  I took this as being like Jesus.  We all hear, I want to be like Jesus, would Jesus do that? Would you say that if Jesus were here? You get the point.  Paul also speaks of a desire to know Him and the power of His resurrection and the glory of His suffering. 

 

If I am striving to know the Savior on a more personal level every day, I cannot help but be conformed to His image.  When I know Him, I will be guided more fully by His Holy Spirit keeping me from things, guiding me to where I should be.  Helping me guard my tongue, heart, and mind.  To know Him, is to be like Him.  So like running where my goal was to go faster, it didn't happen until I aimed at going farther. Likewise, my desire to be like Jesus, will only come when I really know who He is.  

I am a fifties music junkie and my sister Michelle for the life of her cannot understand my taste in music.  The feeling is mutual, K.C. and the Repetitive Band is no match for The Platters, but in any case, there is a song from the fifties that is really schmaltzy and it says.  To know know know him is to love  love love him and I do ... and I do… and I do…..Insert overly swooning intonation and background singers galore and you get the picture.  A cute little song, not one of my favorites and I could live quite happily never hearing the song again.  But I think in the sense of getting to know Jesus it is true.  There is a difference in knowing what Jesus did and knowing who He is.  I can be thankful for what he did without knowing Him.  I could go my whole life being redeemed because I believe what He did for me.  But I'd be missing out on so much if I didn't try to know Him.  The more I know Him, the more I love Him.  it would be impossible not to, and that is the beauty.  When our goals are righted, our outcome is sure.  

Now since I began to write this post a few weeks ago, there has been a hindrance not laid aside.  I sprained my toe and have been advised by the doctor to sit this race out.  To say I am disappointed is a gross understatement.  The fact that the injury happened while killing a bug and stepping off my bed simultaneously, is just unbelievable! However, it lends itself quite readily into the analogy.  The Christian life is full of bumps, missteps, stupid things we never would have dreamed would cause harm.  Yet, like for the body, there is healing.  I'm just glad I don't have to wait three weeks for forgiveness or to get back in the race.  

I will train again at the end of these three weeks and I can't wait for whatever else God wants to teach me through it.  So great how He meets us where we are!

 

Smell The Honeysuckle!

Between the ages of 2 and 6 I lived in Maryland. I had the best time. Riding bikes outside, forgetting how to use the breaks, flipping over guardrails, calling my mom from some lady’s house that didn’t speak English, you know the average childhood antics. Good times, good times.

Another good time was going to the library. For a family with five kids, a free library card from Howard County was just the ticket for most summer afternoons when we were bouncing off the walls. We would go, spend some time out of the house and pick out some books. When we would walk out to the car, my mom would most often say, “Smell the honeysuckle.” She wouldn’t just say it though; she would exclaim it refreshingly as though she had just received a present she had always wanted. When we were little and had no idea what things lived in bushes or peed on them, we would suck out the nectar. I do not do that anymore, but I do still on occasion, smell the honeysuckle.

There has been a recent rash of such occasions. On 222 going toward Kutztown there are bushes along the highway. There is honeysuckle there. And when I am driving down the hill and singing at the top of my lungs, I get hit with the unmistakable fragrance and have no choice, but to smell the honeysuckle. I think it is funny how so many years later I still feel like a little kid when I smell it. Sweet and flowery with a hint of savory, what’s not to love? Just kidding about the savory part, but some people will get a kick out of that, Janelle and Jen I’m sure, will remember the reference.

In any case, as long as I live I hope to equate that smell with a fun summer afternoon at the library and the admonition of my mother to be thankful and always surprised at the sweet unexpected blessing of honeysuckle.

Channel Surfing Gone Awry

The other day I was flipping through the channels to see if anything was worth watching. As I flipped through I saw a promo or a clip of yet another reality relationship game show. It was for Paris Hilton’s BFF. There are so many things about this that makes me sad. Firstly, there is no solace known to man at this time that is completely void of Paris Hilton. Why? I have no idea. She is this decade’s version of Kato Kaelin and Jenny Jones. They are everywhere, say nothing of importance, and they have celebrity status. That word means nothing anymore.

Perhaps even more disturbing than she are those who are competing to be her BFF. You are on a game show to be friends with a girl who publicly trashed her true life, long time, best friend, and you want to be the replacement? There are other ways to get into show business.

I am not sure if the producers were aware, but the last F is supposed to be forever. The notion of having a sequel to a”forever” is fundamentally unacceptable. Where is the first winner of the forever friend position? No one knows and this year, no one cares.

Needless to say I did not watch. I think I probably watched travel shows or even PCN tours learning how they make reproduction furniture in Lititz. That is interesting, not socialite speech peppered with blackberry abbreviations.

IDK, maybe I am more upset with the fact that a show like that is on the air and they took away Pushing Daisies or that I’m hardly ever home to watch 30 Rock.! Truthfully I’ve never forgiven the networks for pulling American Dreams back in 2005 and as sure as all get out, I will never forgive them for ending Family Ties! Alex could be president by now dealing with his opposing parents as lobbyist for clean air initiatives, while Jennifer becomes the first platinum blonde Supreme Court justice, Mallory designs fashion wear for the space program, and Andy lives in a van in the dessert of Utah studying newts.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. I only wish these inane game shows would disappear. Oh, and I also wish for world peace.

Vacation Observation

Last week I was on my summer vacation. I was with the family and we did a lot of fun things. I was able to explore the community where we stayed and it was just beautiful. There were houses surrounding the lake, playgrounds, camp sites, beaches, pools, and wild deer so tame you could get within two feet of them. It seems impossible it is all over. I’ve spent so much time looking forward to it and it goes by so quickly.

In some ways I am glad to be back and getting into “normal” life again. For one thing, the temptation of copious amount of sweets will be no more. And I have plans to visit soon with a few friends I haven’t seen in quite some time.

I wanted to share something I observed while at the pool one day. Thursday we decided to go to the pool. Earlier in the week we had gone to the lake and even though it is beautiful and the beach was nice, I do not like swimming in the lake. Give me chlorine so strong it could kill a legion of aquatic wild life and I am a happy girl.

The fact that we had agreed on the pool made me happy to be able to swim. I will never be an Olympic swimmer, I don’t really know how to swim, but I move my arms and my legs and I stay afloat and get to where I want to go, to me, that is all I need. And no, it is not a dog paddle.

This is probably the first time since I was ten I did not imagine a shark coming to get me as I swam. Yes I realize sharks do not live in pools. However, after seeing a James Bond movie when I was young where an evil maniac releases a shark into a pool where 007 was swimming, I have envisioned this scene while swimming in pools. Fear is not always rational, so back up off me.

It was a good time with sisters and nieces as the boys were out fishing. Mom and Nana were even there on the lawn chairs in the shade, just enjoying the day.

I got out of the pool to get ready to leave and sat on my towel to people watch. I was next to my mother in her chair and we both saw the same thing. A man who looked to be in his seventies came walking up to the deep end. He was walking slowly, using a cane as he went. I watched him because I was a bit concerned for his safety. He was dressed for swimming, but still, it can be slippery near a pool and I just was hoping he would not fall around the edge of the pool. After what seemed to be forever, he got near enough and with one fluid and uncharacteristic swift motion he pushed his cane to the side and pushed off the ground to launch into the pool for a swim.

I turned to Mom and asked if she had seen what I saw. She said yes. I said that is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. That would be a way better commercial for Nestea than anything I’ve ever seen them come up with for an idea.

There are so many areas of life where I could apply this word picture. I should not be afraid of change, I should not hold on to things I think will help me but only make the transition awkward. I should never act as though I’m old although the time will come I am sure when I will not be able to move as I once could. That is just the beginning of all the things. I’m sure you have some of your own. I’m just sad for you that you were not there to see it.

Next time you are in an opportunity to people watch. Look for the little kids and the elderly. In my experience, they have taught me much more than the middle aged crowd. Perhaps I am too close to the middle age bracket I cannot fully appreciate it at this time. But who knows, some day I may be creeping toward the edge of a pool wondering why young people have become so voyeuristic.