Saturday, November 28, 2009

Response to The Call

Samuel was lying down in the temple
of the LORD, where the ark of God was.
Then the LORD called Samuel.
Samuel answered, "Here I am."
And he ran to Eli and said,
"Here I am; you called me."

Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD-
The word (Jesus) of the LORD
had not yet been revealed to him.

Then Eli realized that the LORD
was calling the boy.

So Eli told Samuel, "Go and lie down,
and if He calls you, say,
'Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.'

Then Samuel said,
"Speak, for your servant is listening."

1 Samuel 2: 4-5, 7, 10

I'm going to do my best to connect some dots that have probably long been connected in your understanding. They are new to my own ... or, at the very least, refreshed from a different angle.

Samuel the Prophet is, perhaps, one of the greats among those noted by name in scripture. We learn of his remarkable, yet humble beginnings in the book that bears his name, First Samuel.

It's from that same book we learn of his call. It's a call that every believer of all time has heard; some while young, some well into their senior years.

Yet there's an incontrovertible fact that ... If one isn't listening, the call either cannot be heard, or it's heard but mis-understood, mis-applied.

It begins well ahead of the listening ...

Eli (whose own sons ignored their own call - a matter we could describe & assess for days on end ...) knew the young Samuel was being sought of God. Why? How? What did he understand about Samuel that he didn't about his own sons?

He rightly directs the young boy to listen to God; not to his own or to someone else's voice. He didn't provide a list of "ten next steps", nor did he build some monument or altar to glorify Samuel for having been called of God.

He directed the boy to God's voice (His word, aka Jesus).

Until that moment, Samuel had been listening to and tutored by Eli. Something was changing ... and Eli, to his credit, directs Samuel wisely.

In obedience Samuel does what he's told. The rest is history.

How simple. How humble. Listen to God and obey Him.

I wonder how much grief (or folly) we could spare ourselves and others by simply directing them to do likewise?

Don't mis-understand. I love teachers, preachers, commentators, journalists, bloggers. There's a wide world and a wide array of wonderful, thought-provoking stories or teachings or demonstrations of God's ways. None of them equal The Word.

Sometimes the simple gets by us as we seek out the complex, the sensational.

Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

History Speaks of Him From Whom All Blessings Flow

I couldn't have penned a more appropriate post, or a more worthy proclamation myself.

History speaks for itself, if only we listen.

Thanksgiving Proclamation

State of New-Hampshire. In Committee of Safety, Exeter, November 1, 1782 :

ORDERED,THAT the following Proclamation for a general THANKSGIVING on the twenty-eighth day of November [instant?], received from the honorable Continental Congress, be forthwith printed, and sent to the several worshipping Assemblies in this State, to whom it is recommended religiously to observe said day, and to abstain from all servile labour thereon.

M. WEARE, President.

By the United States in Congress assembled.


IT being the indispensable duty of all Nations, not only to offer up their supplications to ALMIGHTY GOD, the giver of all good, for his gracious assistance in a time of distress, but also in a solemn and public manner to give him praise for his goodness in general and especially for great and signal interpositions of his providence in their behalf ...

Therefore the United States in Congress assembled, taking into their consideration the many instances of divine goodness to these States, ...

... Do hereby recommend to the inhabitants of these States in general, to observe, and request the several States to interpose their authority in appointing and commanding the observation of THURSDAY the twenty-eight day of NOVEMBER next, as a day of solemn THANKSGIVING to GOD for all his mercies: and they do further recommend to all ranks, to testify to their gratitude to GOD for his goodness, by a cheerful obedience of his laws, and by promoting, each in his station, and by his influence, the practice of true and undefiled religion, which is the great foundation of public prosperity and national happiness.

Done in Congress, at Philadelphia, the eleventh day of October, in the year of our LORD one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two, and of our Sovereignty and Independence, the seventh.

JOHN HANSON, President.
Charles Thomson, Secretary.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Come Out

Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!"

The dead man came out,
his hands and feet wrapped
with strips of linen,
and a cloth around his face.

John 11:43-44

Pastor used this passage in a recent message given at church. I can't honestly tell you what the message was about just now, but I can tell you I was mesmerized by a fact, a truth that crystallized because of it.

How many people do you suppose were buried alongside our friend Lararus? And how many of them might also have had the same name? Afterall, we know of at least one other so-named - the beggar we find cradled in Abraham's arms post death (Luke 16).

So, why didn't every Lazarus "come out" at what certainly must have been a loud call? Why only the particular Lazarus that Jesus summoned?

This isn't meant to be a trick question. Afterall, there is no right or wrong answer.

What's on my mind is how singular, personal and intimate is God's knowledge of us.

The name of Lazarus, whether common or uncommon in his day, was associated in Jesus' mind with one man: the one He loved. Certainly He loved the others, just as He loves all mankind. But this one man - this particular Lazarus - He'd known before time began, before creation.

He also knew that this Lazarus would indeed "come out"; that he would obey the voice of His Lord and Savior. Afterall, the sheep know their Shepherd's voice and will obey no other.

Whether there are countless Kathleens named since the dawn of time, I am certain that my name (and the name of every Christ-follower) are likewise known, likewise precious, likewise purchased from among men.

I needn't fear death or some post-death torment, for my Lord has already bid me "come out". It's the ultimate freedom He purchased for me, and which I accepted many long years ago - a freedom I can't add to or make any better than it already is any more than our dead friend Lazarus could have. It is finished!

No grave will hold me either!

Monday, November 23, 2009

Critical Interception

" ... asking God to fill you with the knowledge
of his will through all spiritual wisdom
and understanding ... in order that you
may live a life worthy of the Lord ...
growing in the knowledge of God ...
For he has rescued us from the dominion of
darkness and brought us into the kingdom
of the Son he loves ... "
Colossians 1:9-14 (parts)

Knowledge - the fact or condition of knowing something; acquaintance with or understanding of; being aware.

- accumulated philosophic learning; knowledge; ability to discern inner qualities and relationships; insight; good sense.

Discernment/Understanding - the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure; skill in discerning.
Just yesterday I was having a discussion with someone that was, to say the least, hot under the collar about something done to them. It was both a real and a perceived injustice; their name besmirched by another. Feathers filled the air.
The angst and indignation was a familiar refrain: a justified (and justifiable) complaint had been lodged against the errant party - their nemesis. How could they?!! The very hearing of it stung, mostly because I've worn both sets of shoes. You know: fire, ready, aim!
Pondering the matter further, the whole concept of discernment versus wisdom gripped me. Could it be that I can have all the facts (knowledge), and even the tincture of wisdom, but altogether miss the greater meaning because of a lack of discernment?

I think so.
Solomon himself makes such a good object-lesson on is this subject! Smart and wise beyond compare; and without equal - but he just didn't get it on some level!

By itself, information is ... well ... just information. Until it's filtered (the scientists are bound to shoot me for that one) through wisdom's sieve it's often dry, disjointed.

Moreover, unless the two - knowledge + wisdom - congeal with discernment, they are very likely to give rise to wrong conclusions. The bottom line then becomes suspect. Wrong placement = wrong conclusions, a wrong bottom line (the accountants in our midst will nod their approval). Feathers, feathers everywhere!

Remember, it's me I'm talking about here. I know none of you would do such a thing.

I could say so much here and, quite likely, you could too - - thoughts on gossip, or in dealing with one's enemies, or how best to handle conflict ...
Or _ _ _ _ _

But today I'm thinking about something Oswald Chambers has to say on the matter. It's something I need to hear, and hear again, and again, and again. It calls on me to take the high road where knowledge is concerned; a road made straight and firm only with discernment.

God never gives us discernment
so that we may criticize,
but that we may intercede.
Oswald Chambers

Saturday, November 21, 2009

It's Time

Even with the passage of 45 years, the day's events have not paled, nor has their sorrow.

Oh, but I'm so far ahead of myself. Let me begin again.

The aroma of morning in my mother's house was always inviting, and never more than on Thanksgiving Day. Something savory heralded the holiday, and i
t always included the collective scents of simmering giblets, nutmeg & cinnamon, homemade bread, baking turkey, and something I could never quite put my finger on. No matter. It was the aroma of the familiar and the familial.

The year was 1964, and I was 16.

Family always arrived early: my sisters and their husbands and children; my uncle and his lady friend, Mrs. Foley; and sometimes others too. This year included my then boyfriend/now husband, Terry. The house was happiest when it was filled to the rafters, especially when the little ones scurried under foot.

It had been a long year, 1964 - and Thanksgiving arrive
d with somber hues and tones. Our hearts, filled to the brim with gratitude for all things blessed, were also filled with something less joyful: dread. For many days we'd been stealing ourselves for the inevitable.

For well over a year my father - daddy - had warred fiercely with an enemy called leukemia. It's virulent, relentless and pitiless assault made no show of retreat. But oh what a battle daddy gave it! As if armored and mounted, he rode headlong into the foray; sometimes daily. Battle weary and battle scarred, he never gave up fightin
g. I can't recall him having even a moment of complaint or self-pity.

But by Thanksgiving it was obvious that daddy's days of warring were nearing their end. Frail, bruised, pale ... just taking a breath had become a day's labor.

As the holiday unfolded a light snow began to fall
. It was unusually glorious, and I remember, even now, having such conflicted feelings about it. My initial thoughts were of bundling to go sledding, while my secondary thoughts were of how cruel it was that such beauty would mock my family; mock me.

Daddy lay quiet on the couch throughout the day as family gathered and gabbed and giggled, and dinner was served. He could hardly sit now, and his periods of wakefulness had lessened. As dinner ended, I sensed from the hushed whispers that something wasn't right. Seems he's taken a turn for the worse, and an ambulance had been summoned. Mother's worried face told the story, as did her call to action: It's time.

To this day I remember following behind that ambulance by car, the gently falling snow blurring the red rotating light of the ambulance, and muffling it's siren - the surreal and the serene co-mingling. My heart pounded, not certain if it was fear or hope that compelled the thumping. I longed to hurry, then longed to slow it all down.

My father would never again return home.

Once hospitalized, Daddy remained with us a few more days, until December 4, when at last he stepped into the presence of his Lord, Jesus. He went gently and quietly during the early morning hours ... no doubt the time he'd have risen to head out for some good trout fishing.

One evening, shortly after he was admitted to the hospital and while he was still lucid, we girls were summoned. My father had called
us together to say goodbye. With courage, tears and great heart he spoke of his love for us, and for our mother. He was ready, and he wanted us to be to as well.

Thanksgiving conflicts me still. Yet somehow I've come to appreciate the grand legacy attached to it. What tears it engenders are tears of pride, of precious memories, of thankfulness. What better way to begin the counting of blessings.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

43rd Anniversary

NOVEMBER 19, 1966
Kathleen Wells wed Terry Flanagan
From the very beginning of our fun-filled and zany high school days there was great passion and ease between us. How I treasure it's having given birth to our marriage ... and then to children ... and then grandchildren ... and now the beautiful Fall of the lives that are uniquely ours.

Along the way there was many a challe nge and many a blight, but our endurance won out - and so too our passion and ease. Your company is the best I've found on earth.

I love this poem. It's the promise you gave me just a week ahead of our wedding, when both our silly 18 year old heads were swimming in seas of doubt (yes, we should have listened, but I'm so-o-o glad we didn't!). On so many levels it was, and is prophetic.

Out In The Fields

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday

Among the fields above the sea,

Among the winds that play,
Among the lowing of the herd,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.
The foolish fears of what might pass

I cast them all away

among the clover-scented grass,

Among the new-mown hay,

Among the hushing of the corn,

Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born-

Out in the fields of God


My enduring love, Mr. Wiggles.
Happy Anniversary, in the fields of God.
Your Mrs. Wootie.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

What's With Those Words?

A confession: Whenever I visit a blog site that has a security code associated with leaving a comment, I typically come away giggling.
Who do you suppose sits on the security counsel that decides which code to give? In my mind's eye I see the Wizard of Oz.

Check them out. Here's just a few that are included with my own personal interpretation of them. No doubt you'll never see another one without a giggle of your own!
  • Promb - The dance that fell far short of the dream.
  • Blibnar - The language spoken by Mork.
  • Zelluber - A device that lubricates zells.
  • Stintzi - A performing lizard.
  • Helpub - A clinic that serves ale.
  • Fletsyze - A German curse word.
  • Cirztip - A bad ending to a good story.
  • Gortrance - The entrance to Al Gore's home.
  • Zebeener - The greens I'll fix with bacon.
  • Aepnoard - A ditsy chimpanzee
  • Melga - A character from a Tolkien story.
  • Upsunz - What happens when you're too sassy.

Monday, November 16, 2009

God Bless Shaniya

The beautiful, precious little girl in this picture is five year old Shaniya Davis.
For the past several days, since reported missing by her mother, the police and volunteers have been searching desperately for her.
From the git-go, conflicting stories about her disappearance have had many focusing intently on mommy.

The facts in this case are disgusting and disturbing, and utterly heartbreaking. I know. I've been following the story closely as I've hoped and prayed the child would be found alive and well.
Little Shaniya's lifeless body was found earlier today, dumped some 100 feet off a North Carolina roadway like trash. The police have charged her own mother in felony child abuse for having offered little Shaniya for child-prostitution purposes. A man has also been charged in this senseless case of torture and murder.
There's little more I can say, other than these sorts of crimes against children are occurring all too frequently, and often by the very parents that ought to be protecting them.
I hope and pray someone has a plan for preventing these heinous crimes from every happening again, to any child. Ever!
May little Shaniya be heard laughing with delight today in the arms of God.
Though my father and mother
forsake me, the Lord
will receive me
Psalm 27:10

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Dear Mr. President (2)

Dear Mr. President,
As you near the end of your first term, it must seem an eternity since you stood to take the oath of office. I wrote you on that auspicious occasion, just as I'm writing you now. If you recall, I promised I would.
America is my homeland, and my heart bleeds red, white & blue. Nothing would delight me more than to applaud your personal devotion to the founding father's intent, or to endorse your Administration as noble, and honorable. I cannot.
I realize your position is a tough one, Mr. President; much has transpired on your watch. For that reason I pray for you and all government leaders. Yours is a sacred trust and, presumably, from your lips comes the sentiment of all Americans - - whether you speak here on native soil, or in foreign lands.
So it is that I recognize the tremendous responsibility laid at your feet. You have been elected as our - my - standard bearer. I wish that was of comfort.
Today I feel it necessary, even my civic duty and right to ask you: Where are we going, Mr. President? I know that ought to be clear, but instead it's a murky morass of ever shifting sands. On the wind of your compelling promises comes what feels an awful lot like the ultimate bait and switch. Isn't that unethical, if not illegal?

It is tempting to site here a litany of grievances. I don't feel that would be useful, if even appreciated. Yet there are those that sound an alarm about your moving us systematically towards Socialism or, worse, Marxism. Whether those accusations are true or untrue I cannot say. I can only tell you that I am very, very concerned about the obvious liberal machine that's driving everything American.
I might take a less critical position were it not for the fact that my Christian worldview - the same worldview espoused by the majority of our founding fathers and woven into very nature of our Constitution - has become the singular focus of intolerance. Instead, a welcome mat is rolled out to all other worldviews, many of which actually run counter to any form of decency; some of which imperil our very freedoms. What's that all about? What standard is it that you bear, Mr. President?
In the worst way I long to esteem not only the office you hold, but your personal agenda as well. You have made that extremely difficult. So, too, your Administration. With the passing of weeks and the corresponding passages of legislature, it is beyond the pale to even consider what comes next.
Sacred trust is not mine to bestow or to vote upon. There is only one Source for it and, without that Source, nothing is sacred. Blessings do not flow from the body politic, nor does freedom. It's why we - myself and the vast majority of God-fearing Americans - weep when we sing: God bless America. What is He to bless if He is not sought? What is sacred when the liberal government not only seeks to silence a moral voice, but to mock adherents of God's word and the gospel?
It cannot be emphasized too
clearly and too often that this nation
was founded, not by religionists, but
by Christians; not on religion,
but on the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Patick Henry
In circumstances as dark as these,
it becomes us, as Men and Christians,
to reflect that whilst every
prudent measure should be taken
to ward off the impending judgments,
… at the same time all confidence
must be withheld from the means
we use; and reposed only on that
God rules in the armies of Heaven,
and without His whole blessing,
the best human counsels
are but foolishness …
John Hancock
Again I ask you, Mr. President: Where are we going?

Thursday, November 12, 2009

The Family's Song

We go back a long ways, Carol and I.
When I arrived in 1948, she had already claimed the coveted position of The Baby in our family for nearly seven years. The older girls, Dolores and Barbara, were well on their way to adulthood, being 15 & 13 years my senior.
So you can just imagine Carol's surprise to realize she'd been replaced by this curly headed usurper & interloper. Imagine, too, my own great delight in growing up beneath her loving, sometimes tormenting, and consistently lively shadow!
Something was always afoot when Carol stirred.
She made me laugh, and from my earliest days I longed to be just like her.
When she cried, I cried; and our parents could scarcely scold her lest they contend with the sobbing little sister coming to her defense.
When she was in love, so was I (with each and every one of her beaus!).
Her prom dresses became my princess-wear (when she wasn't home). Her closet is where my first case of coveting stirred - she working to purchase such sophisticated garb while I wore little-girl stuff. Many were the times I'd "borrow" something, only to ruin it - to her rightful consternation!
Yes, the world was bigger, and zany, and so very exciting when I could glimpse it through her eyes..
My sister taught me everything I
really need to know,
and she was only in sixth grade
at the time.

Linda Sunshine
Her name, Carol - a short form of Caroline - derives from the English root that means "song" or "hymn". How lovely, but made more lovely still when you know her. There is, indeed, a song that's yet been sung to those not blessed with that privilege.
Certainly I could dot the page with highlights from her life ... perhaps another day.
Today I just want to savor the moments that allowed me to be her baby sister again, for awhile.
Our goodbyes are now said until next time, when again we celebrate our unique and special bond, and His goodness in forming it.
Bless you, my darling,
and remember ...
you are always
in the heart -
oh tucked so close there is
no chance of escape -
of your sister.

Katherine Mansfield

P.S. A special "thank you" to Carol's hubby, Hal, for relinquishing her to me while holding down the ministerial fort there in Mexico.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Funny Little Word


So often it's the one and only word God speaks into my heart.
It may be that I've said or done something that probably should have had more thought than I gave it at the time. Along comes the nudge: Really?
Or it might happen that someone else says something that lands sideways in my knower - as if a bad case of indigestion. Again His prompt: Really?
In fact, it occurred just the other day when I said something that I had put the spin of certainty to. Within moments that question - Really? - began to form. I knew at once I was standing on shakey ground and, quite possibly, had lead someone else there too.
Odd how one seeminly innocuous word can send me scurrying along the ponder path. Most of the scurry is associated with something biblically related (typically something unsound or untrue), but it happens with the common, garden variety stuff as well.
Merriam tells us that the word itself is an adverb, and it's uses vary...
  • 1a : in reality, actually
  • 1b: truly, unqestionably -used as an intensifier
  • 2a: used to emphasize an assertion
When you add a question mark to any of those uses, the word becomes something altogether different - as if a challenge to the reality, the intensifier, or the assertion..

For the time will come when men
will not put up with sound doctrine.
Instead, to suit their own desires,
they will gather around them a great
number of teachers to say what their
itching ears want to hear. They will
turn their ears away from the truth
and turn aside to myths.
But you, keep your head in all situations ...
2 Timothy 4:3-5 .
In everything set them an example
by doing what is good. In your teaching
show integrity, seriousness and soundness
of speech that cannot be condemned, so
that those who oppose you may be ashamed
because they have nothing
bad to say about us.
Titus 2:7-8
God's mysterious ways never cease to amaze or baffle me. The holy, all-powerful Sovereign ... the profoundly majestic Creator ... the love-driven Savior ... comes near and resides in my very being - your very being. Incredible! But that He does so in such an intimate, personal way is beyond the beyond - - and that for my protection! . .

I tell you that men will have to give account
for every careless word they have spoken.
For by your words you will be acquitted,
and by your words you will be condemned.
Matthew 25:36-37
Words mean much to THE Word, which is why I listen closely when a question mark follows His Really? ... I know then that truth has somehow been compromised (whether intentionally or unintentionally - by me or anyone else), and it's time to sift.

In those moments I know the foundation and walls of discernment are being fortified. I also find it interesting that the enemy would use the same word to cast doubt on truth, while God uses it to expose untruth. Really!

Thursday, November 5, 2009


Today I stare down a conundrum.
There is a body of thought bordering on doctrine that would have me believe that poverty and/or suffering is evidence of salvation on the one hand, of God's special
endorsement on the other. To have much - be it in moderate or magnanimous portions - would thus be a show of something tethered to the worldly. To be poor or suffering is, then, the higher calling. (I often wonder what these folks do with Abraham, Job, Solomon ...)
And then there's that other group - the ones that consider it sound doctrine to seek hard after material gain. It's their contention that the child of God is destined to have health, success, riches and great glory ... now. To have little (not to mention nothing) is a sure sign that one is living far beneath one's God-mandated dignity. To be prosperous is, then, the higher calling. (I often wonder what these folks do with those of the early church, many of whom are featured in Hebrews 11 who lost/suffered everything ...)
In both cases, the condition is often (if not always) given an altar of it's own; a place of distinction where one can worship the evidence of their (or someone else's) obvious heavenly favor.
So which is it?
How does one, to the exclusion of the other, bring glory to God? How do the people living on one side deflect the shame of not living on the other? How can the poor man rise above their lack without robbing from God, while the rich man sheds the trappings of the material world without biting His hand of blessing?
I've now added head-scratching to my staring.
I realize this has the look and feel of a rant. It's not my intention. Actually, it goes hand-in-hand with much of what Paul teaches us in Scripture; the stuff of which conundrums are born. Why else does he say (?) ...
I have learned to be content
whatever the circumstances.
I know what it is to be in need,
and I know what it is to have plenty.
I have learned the secret
of being content
in any and every situation,
whether well fed or hungry,
whether living in plenty or in want.
I can do everything through him
who gives me strength.
Philippians 4:11-13
Keep your lives free from the love
of money and be content
with what you have, because God has said,
"Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."
So we say with confidence,
"The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.
Hebrews 4:5-6
But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.
What is more, I consider everything a loss
compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing
Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake
I have lost all things.
Philippians 3:7-8
When the operative word is contentment, I needn't stare at all; I can pivot on this one word alone.
Do my gains/losses bring me contentment? Can I sing with the chorus, "whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, 'it is well; it is well, with my soul'."?
This is not meant to minimize life's miserable mutinies. I've experienced no few of them; wept no little volume. I mean no impudence or disrespect to those on life's loosing side. It's painful, and can be utterly devastating!
Yet I have known many from the communities of wealth and an equal number from the communities of lack ... each of them content in their own placement, if not their own calling. Gains or losses matter little to them.
No alters.
No special endorsement from heaven.
Their lives are not about what they have or don't have; or even what they're doing for God. They are simply glad to stand back and give Him the glory because of what He is doing in them - and that deserves no alter to anyone other than Him.
Indeed, godliness with contentment is great gain. No conundrum there.
Now I just have to figure out how to remain surrendered in a contented condition. More conundrums!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Signs of Dawn

Morning. There's nothing quite like it. In a perfect world it follows on the heals of a restful sleep; it heralds a new day containing a fresh serving of God's amazing grace. It's a time of fresh starts, new beginnings, energized agendas and hopeful happenings. In a perfect world.
From my earliest recollections morning was - and is - a call to joy for me. Long before my feet hit the floor, I'm anticipating the wonder of it all. Dawn's early light never ceases to inspire me, even when it's cloaked in clouds.
Mother often quieted me while the household slept, reminding me that not everyone rises with such a boisterous beginning. I learned all about sunrise stealth from my Father ... a man that could brew coffee and whip up waffles without making a sound.
On the rare occasion that I rise with a heavy heart or a rustled spirit, you can be sure I slip away to consider just what's attached itself to my soul. Today is such a day..
  • Is there something specific or someone in particular needing prayer?
  • Have I said or done something that's incongruent?
  • Was it Elaine's post, Innocence Lost, that troubled my heart?
  • Did I not get enough sleep?
I may or may not figure it out, but this I know: today is the day the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Dawn is certain, even as the Son also rises.

Monday, November 2, 2009

And Then They Were Gone

So ... until Thursday when my sister Carol arrives for her visit, my house is again still, and oh-so quiet. The Sugar Plum Fairy has left the building.