His True and Perfect Ways

I’ve been listening to the Newsboys’ 04 hit cd “Devotion.” The song “I Love Your Ways” is really reaching me today. God is so good. His ways are always best. Sometimes I feel like I wallow in His ways, let them flow over me, around me, so comforting and peaceful. I know that my own ways are destructive by nature, unsound and usually misconstrued, often going awry. If I just trust Him and follow His lead, the walk will still be bumpy and painful at times, but it always leads to a good place.

The song goes:

I love Your ways (Your true, Your perfect ways)

I love Your ways (so beautiful to me)

lovely always (and faithful to restore)

I love Your ways

and when I tire, they bring a second wind

a word in season, a gleam in Your eye
I lived so long under basement floors

the flickering lights, the windowless gloom

I'm here to stay in the upper room of Your ways

ah, the room of Your ways

If you’ve hit rock bottom, if you’ve been at the end of your rope, turned to God and found His grace and mercy, then you know what this song is all about. If you’ve been sick and tired of yourself and suddenly saw yourself in God’s loving eyes, finding your self worth because of what Christ has done for you, sister, you know what I’m singing about.

Maybe like me, today, while you’re rejoicing in God’s redemption, maybe someone you love is tangled up living in sin “under basement floors, the flickering lights, the windowless gloom.” You probably know someone so totally deceived, dancing with sin, unaware of it’s destruction, it’s slavery, and finally, it’s betrayal. Maybe your heart is breaking for them, as is mine.

It’s my prayer that you can sing a new song today and trust God’s love and faithfulness and goodness. May you feel His loving comfort today and wallow in His ways, His true and perfect ways.

Coupl-a Wallflowers

Sandra and I are such timid and shy partiers, always trying to blend into the background. . .

Here we are, yet another party, quietly blending in with our surroundings. You might have to look hard to find us.

A Friend Hears the Song in My Heart . . .

. . .and sings it to me when my memory fails.

Debra Thomas Ain't Got Nothin' On Me

After riding in Debra's 67 Punchbug, I had to go get me one.

This one fit my budget. Tom's off backpacking the Art Leob Trail for the next few days, but when he returns, he can fix this baby up for me.

Always Learning Something New

I Taught Marj

how to fish.

I introduced Eva to the fine art of scrapbooking.

Tommy taught himself to

do the Rubik's Cube in 12 minutes flat.

Holy Smokes

Remember my post with this photo where I indicated something was lurking over my shoulder. . . the picture implying it might be a lion. . .figuratively . . . my words indicating it's a spiritual issue . . .

It hit me today:

I think . . .

. . . it's Joel Osteen.

Now don't everybody jump on me at once. I haven't worked through it all yet. But I'm telling you, I don't have good vibes from this man and never have.

Columbian Coffee is now being served . . .

Juan Valdez is back.

We have an unconfirmed Wagener sighting.

How Sweet It Is

Wagener Salley High defeated Ridge Spring Monetta 9-8 despite some questionable umpiring, placing them 2nd in the region going into the tournament on Thursday night. Marj knocked home Brielle at the bottom of the 7th to tie the score, putting us into overtime with a Texas Shootout. Brielle, as catcher, faked a throw to second, enticing the third base runner to steal home where she found Brielle, tagging her out with the softball. You should have seen Jackie's smile.

Kristin was hot on the pitcher's mound, I think she did even better than her usual awesome self. She also hit a homerun that brought in both Marj and Brielle.

All the ladies played great, I wish I had the stats. Marj twisted her ankle on third and limped off the field near the end of the game. We iced it down the whole way home, knowing it will be worth the suffering if she gets some of Ms. Christie's homemade cookies out of the deal.

Bobby Was Here

I caught a "whiff" of Bobby today. Not a literal scent, more like a brief memory or a brief visitation from him, like he just popped back to earth, tipped his head back a fraction and smiled, the way he used to. This happens to me occasionally, I hope I'm not alone in this, but periodically someone I've loved who has died will pop back in my mind so vividly it's almost like they were here for a minute. Sometimes it is, indeed, a scent, but often it's a situation that would be so perfectly wrought by them -- I have to believe they had a hand in it.

So it was today at church. Tom wore this party shirt pictured above. I figured it was OK because it was subdued by the lack of color, simply black and white, I didn't notice the images. During the church service, Tom leaned over and told me a teenage girl at church pointed out that the floral Hawaiian images on his shirt actually contain silhouettes of naked women. Right there in church!!

I was mortified . . .

. . . for two seconds.

Then I saw Bobby jut his chin out a pinch, briefly nod his head back and smile. See, this shirt used to be Bobby's. Tom kept it after his brother died and never realized the naked women images were mingled in there.

Don't you just know Bobby was lovin' his brother showing up at church in this shirt.

Bobby was here.

Florida Gulf Coast: Evening Commute

Here's a short one today to make up for my looooong one yesterday.

This is a scene my friend Mary Lou in Florida stumbled across on her way home from work. Talk about a pleasant commute. . . I'm envious.

Blackville, SC: My Little Jaunt

I took a stroll through the town of Blackville the other day. We had a softball game there at 5:00, so I thought I'd go early and stroll through the antique store. Check out this building I found, it is awesome. I wish I had unlimited funds and could remodel this building. Maybe put some apartments on the top and stores on the bottom with a cafe in the bottom corner. . .

Blackville is most famous for God's Acre Healing Springs. I visited it back in 1984 when my college roommate, who was from Blackville, took me there. I skipped it this visit, it's not quite the thing you re-visit. Speaking of which, small town South Carolina is a little odd. We have some strange claims to fame and I think it's high time Wagener gets in on the action. Surely we can come up with some bizarre roadside amusement. Check out these nearby oddities: Windsor's Devilish Creature, UFO Welcome Center, and my personal favorite: Osama Bin Muffler. I really, really think David Williams and Doug Busbee could come up with something for our town.

Anyhow, I was so looking forward to the antiques store, I love to go very slowly, looking at each item and how I could use it in a different way, usually related to scrapbooking. I was checking out the seat of an old wooden office chair which I loved and wanted to buy if I could reupholster the plastic seat cover, when the saleswoman came in and turned off the lights. Then she saw me, apologized, and informed me she was closing up. She claimed it was 5 til 5. At the car, I found it was only quarter of 5 and I was very mad at this woman who surely wasn't the owner. She so ruined my jaunt.

I went on to the game, met up with my friends, and had a good time. Here's Briella still not playing a princess-y game. Jackie has a time keeping this uniform clean.

Our girls will be playing in the tournament game on Monday night, which will determine if we are #2 or #3 in the region. It's been a great season, they've all played hard, won a lot, had a few tear jerkers . . .

BUT . . .

. . .Who in the world taught these girls how to run??



Now.. as Eva would say . . "How was your day?"

Vominos!

Well, my previous post was prophetic. (say that three times fast) No, I didn’t play; I worked. But the verse . . . now, that is where things got interesting -- the whole idea of looking in a mirror and forgetting who you are afterwards. Those of you who have been following my blog know that I like to pretend. Certain articles of clothing, a particular scent, certain songs, etc, can convince me that I am indeed someone else for that day, say, maybe a cop on Law & Order or something, or the Apostle Paul on Mars Hill, right?

So yesterday, as I was working, I popped in my Jorge CD Patti brought me back from Salamanca, Spain. The entire CD is in Spanish and I don’t speak Spanish, but really, how important are lyrics? Most people don’t know lyrics anyway, think:

Bennie & the Jets. Who knows those lyrics? Yet we all run around humming it. See… you’re doing it now.

(Click on this link and play the music, minimized, while you finish reading; this will greatly enhance your experience.)

So lyrics . . big deal. I love this CD anyway. The music sweeps me off my feet into a world of my creation. Example: The song, “Ya Es Tarde.” As I listen to this one, I think it is about me -- the singer -- and I am gently crying as I walk along the beautiful Valencia shoreline with a Mediterranean breeze in my hair. I have to leave my country, the beloved land of my birth, to go to Sudan and build an orphanage. My heart wants to go, alas, my heart wants to stay.

“Bailar Contigo” is a suspenseful song in which I’m in on a big secret – something big is going down, Slick. I’m running down wet cobblestone, rain streaming down my face. When the music gets mellow, we are cuffing the bad guy. It is very sad for his madre, who is watching from a small stone window above a bakery.

You know, come to think of it, some of the lyrics seem to be English, probably for rhyming reasons, because in “Mirame”, near the beginning, it says “do the hand trick.” And in “Quiero Mas Y Mas”, he almost clearly sings, “I mean you no disrespect.” Of course that makes me wonder what he’s singing in Spanish that requires an apology in English. Speaking of apologies…. Please accept my apologies if you know Spanish and these songs are filthy and I’ve exposed you to them. I really have no idea what they’re about.

Adios, mi amigos.

What's It Gonna Be?

Marj created this photo sometime last Summer when her good self was battling it out with her bad self.

This is how I feel today. On the one hand, I have a full day's work ahead of me. On the other hand, I wanna go out and play!

_____________

James 1: 22-24: Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.

Which self is gonna rule my day?? . . .

A Slow Day

Honest to Pete, I saw it with my own eyes, even had to stop for it, but I still can't tell you...

Why did the chicken cross the road?

A Quiet Rumble Down Memory Lane

It was a dark and dusky twilight, my husband and I were back to back playing dueling computers when we heard a low rumble coming down our drive. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, a little red punchbug, '67 was the year.

So here's Debra, in my drive, in the coolest car in the world. Look closely at her facial expression. She is wondering how this nutcase got in her cool car, she looks a little uncertain about what I consider the greatest ride of my life. How's that for a best friend?? That's some howdy-do.

Check out this dashboard. It's so bare! I'm sure Debra will love having her legs shown on the internet. . .

Ah, the memories.... the 60's.... Oh, wait, I have no memories of the '60's. Mine start in the '70's. My mother had a powder blue punchbug like this though, I bet she has fond memories.

Ba-Dunk-A-Dunk

Girl Talk

"House Democratic leaders are trying to change the House rules to suppress President Bush's attempt at a free-trade agreement with Colombia."

"Changing the rules in the middle of the game?"





- "We call that cheating."

"I heard a new report claims the Federal Government spent more than $346 billion last year on more than 37 million legal and illegal immigrants."

"That's twice as much as the nation's fiscal deficit!!"


"Did you see General Electric posted an unexpected 6 percent drop in first quarter profit?"

"& the survey I saw Friday indicated US consumer confidence hit it's lowest point in 25 years!"

"Sure. I was feelin' it too. I didn't even get the new Mr. Potato Head: Optimash Prime."

"Girl?! The one that battles the evil Decepticons in the quest for peace? . . . Get Out!!

It's a Bit Alarming . . .

There is something on the tip of my tongue, rolling around in my brain, of which, I just can't quite get a grasp. Something lurking just over my shoulder. . . something about influence versus power. One of D.L. Moody's great sermons about temptation briefly touches on influence versus power, he passionately warns Christians about confusing the two or choosing influence over power.

He says, "Ahab had influence; Elijah had power. . . Nebuchadnezzar had influence; Daniel had power . . . " His argument is that you have to be separated from the world to have power and he anticipated that your answer would be that you lose influence if you are separated from the world.

All of this is preceded by his statement that "men are willing to be Christians now if it doesn't cost them anything, if there is no self-denial."

Doesn't that sound familiar? Doesn't that sound like the church of today? I don't often hear sermons of self-denial, it's not in vogue to be separate from the world. And when I do hear them, my reaction is "No, Dude, we rely on grace; let's smile and hear about grace, something I can hang my hat on when I'm feeling so low!" But, suppose... maybe... self-denial is something to hang my hat on when I feel bad about myself? But that's based on self, too, what I accomplish or don't accomplish and let me tell you, been there, done that, don't want that again.

The mere thought of separation from the world brings up Luke 15 where Christ's hanging with the sinners was brought into question. In light of Luke 15, separation from the world doesn't mean avoiding non-Christians and just chilling with Christian brothers and sisters. Yet separation is vital to power, vital to the filling of the Spirit, which seems to be lacking in today's church, so what does it mean? Something about keeping your heart and soul clean, motives pure, avoiding temptation rather than treating it lightly?

The part I'm struggling with is the literal, human side of it. Self-denial. Of what spiritual gain is the practice of self-denial? I can't quite get a grasp on it, but I think it's significant, huge. I think it is overlooked right now in our generation.

There's a link between self-denial, resisting temptation, separation and filling with the Holy Spirit. I just haven't gotten it yet. Maybe that's the point of spiritual disciplines? You just practice them even if they don't make sense because they have an underlying value. Or because eventually, you'll "get it". We don't practice spiritual disciplines anymore -- the Sabbath as a holy day, not a holiday..... praying on our knees.... fasting....

I'm a big follower of Philip Yancey and G.K. Chesterton, both of whom lean heavily towards grace. Then there's D.L. Moody, Jonathan Edwards, Charles Spurgeon. Yeowsie.

So... that's what's on my mind today. I'd love to hear from you.

Colonel Sanders Slurpie

The more she slurped of her Colonel Sanders Soda, the more she transformed into Colonel Sanders.

--

I spent the day with Eva, we had a blast!!!

My brain is fried.

--

No blog for you.

I've Been Recruited

Of course, I knew it was coming. Once word got around that I was packin', walking teams across America would want me. I am now on team Sole Sisters, walking our way across America, logging every step we take, every minute we move. (I picture Richard Simmons at the front of the line. [[shudder]])

It was only a matter of time.

The whole "packin' heat, Law & Order, Charlie's Angels, high heel smackin'" feeling is starting to wear off. I mean, really, I'm wearing a pedometer on my hip. That's what -- 2 extra inches on my hip?? Who needs that? The bulge isn't big enough to be a Smith & Wesson, who am I fooling? Do I really want to wear this thing on my hip all the time? I hope I can go the distance, live up to my Sole Sister's dreams. Sometimes it's just plain cumbersome being me.

It's only a matter of time.

The Boyz R Back

The scene in Charlotte this weekend included closed doors, hushed phone calls, numbers projected on the wall and the white noise of three laptops in a 12x12 unvented space. After years of silence, action resumed in the Think Tank. What was the last subject of the Think Tank . . . was it the Butt Dust Venture? Hmmm, maybe it was the WoodGuys Venture.

The boys have ditched the girls and are together again, sans Gastonia Geasor, who was very much missed and better make the next meeting. I'm proud to say, this time there were no George Bush skits, none of us was asked to be Cokie Roberts. There were no brushes covered with socks used for microphones, no Michael Jordan-esque dunks, no videos and very limited photography. In fact, we recognized the gravity of this venture when dad slipped behind mom at her vanity, quietly went into his closet and emerged with his laser pointer, taking it back into the Think Tank with him.

Top secret meetings . . . closed blinds. . . laser pointer . . . all this can only mean one thing:

The Boys are Back.

"February's Shoes"

Met mom for lunch the other day. She was wearing her "February shoes." Dad instituted the naming system, claiming mom buys about one pair of shoes per month, so these would be her "February shoes." I question dad's system because I think she buys more than one pair a month, but maybe that's our little secret.

That's my closet pictured to the right.

It's official . . .

. . .I've become my mother.

EUREKA !

These Boots were made for Walkin'

I took 10,362 steps yesterday and all but 2,602 were in these boots. Now that’s serious. Tom’s office has divided into teams which are competing as to which team can walk the most steps a day. I was recruited. I was begged to join. I was probably fought over for all I know. So I donned my pedometer yesterday for the first official day of competition.

Now, I’ve never worn a beeper or cellphone on my hip, never wore anything on my hip before except maybe 10 boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mints and that sort of thing, but never anything metal. So when I afixed the pedometer to my hip, it felt odd, bulky, in the way, annoying. . . .Until that first time I scooched my shirt back to adjust the pedometer and realized I felt like I was a smack talkin’ cop in Law and Order and I was packin’ heat.

Oh, yes, that changed everything. I then slipped on the high heel sidewalk-smackin’ boots and the leather jacket. Then I did my hair Farah Fawcett a/k/a Charlie’s Angel syle and I was ready, sister, to go bust up a crackdown . . or smackdown… or whatever it’s called. All day long I was scooching my leather jacket back, adjusting my sidearm and giving punks the evil eye. Before I knew it… I scored over 10,000 steps!