Saturday, September 25, 2010
If your life is anything like mine, you have a myriad of things to do each day and several hats to wear. Usually the choice of which one wins depends on what's most important or, more likely, most urgent.
Today I attended the American Christian Writers Conference in Spokane, WA. I enjoyed a selfish day of what some would describe as frivolous. I dealt with hyperbole, homonyms, and onomatopoeia. I discussed submissions, queries, and proposals. I contemplated words and sentence structure. The Pastor about passes out having to discuss or even think about these subjects, but for me it was a day of pure fun.
Every day I'm a mom. I'm a pastor's wife. I'm an Information Technology Manager, a daughter, and a sister. But today, while The Pastor was at a men's retreat and our son was with a friend, I got the rare opportunity to be something else I love... a writer.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
I came home from our church’s annual women's retreat on a spiritual high. With renewed commitments and a fervor for deeper time in prayer and the Bible, I was ready to face challenges of all kinds. I knew life would be different, better. No sooner had I crossed the threshold of my house than life hit me square between the eyes. As I came through the door, all the responsibilities I had so conveniently forgotten about while renewing my commitments came flooding back to mind.
During the following week, all imaginable problems found their way to me. My resolve slipped quietly away and by Tuesday afternoon I was depressed and despairing at how little power I had to change my circumstances. Just a few days before, I had given a testimony at the retreat about God’s power in my life; about his ability to take any circumstance and turn it into something beautiful for His glory.
Then I realized what was happening. Every word I spoke at that retreat was true. God is all-powerful in my life. He can redeem each and every situation and take it captive for his good. And Satan hates that. He will do everything in his power to stop me from testifying about God’s loving work in my life. He’s out to lie, kill, and destroy at any cost to cause me to doubt. He wickedly delights in kicking Christians…especially when they are up. So I change my way of thinking and look at Satan’s attacks, not as the discouragement he intends them to be, but as confirmation that I am exactly where God wants me to be.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Last night, I took Jack out to do his business before bed. It was dark out, but the porch and yard lights were on. The Pastor isn't overly thrilled that we have Jack. He let me get Jack because he loves me, not because he wanted a dog. To keep things as peaceful as possible, I've been trying to be diligent about cleaning up after Jack and keeping the possibilities for fight-starters to a minimum. So last night while I was standing outside, I noticed some doggie doo that needed to be shoveled up. Like I said, it was dark, but I could see just enough to take care of it. I carefully scooped it up and went to the area where, for lack of better words, I fling the poop out of the yard and into the surrounding field/woods.
I'm getting rather good at this "flinging" process. I guess there's an art to it and I'm getting lots of practice. Well, just as I drew the shovel back to give it the ol heave ho, something attacked my foot. I didn't know if it was a rodent or a snake or what. I screamed. I jumped. I was mid-swing with the poop and I have to say, I have no idea where it landed, but it was definitely not in the intended spot. I put the shovel back and ran in the house, happy I had not been eaten alive by whatever came after me.
This morning I was in the yard again (I'm out there a lot these days. Who knew a puppy had so much poo in him.) I wandered over to the scene of the attack last night. As it turned out, my attacker was still there... A piece of chicken wire. To top it off, my shovel full of, um, well, you know...it was everywhere. Oh, poop.