Dear France, I'm due a visit.

I have a love affair with France. "But Shelley, the people are sooo rude." Says who?
I have never found it to be so. They are nationalistic. Aren't we too, dear star-spangled flag-flyers? And who would really enjoy loud Americans who come over on vacation and speak English VERY LOUDLY as though you are stupid not to know THEIR language? Hmmm?

Mont St. Michel on the northwestern coast.

I've had the opportunity to visit France three times. In college, I was able to complete a 5-week intensive language and history course. We were based mostly in Normandy. It was also the 50th anniversary of the D-Day invasion and French liberation with celebrations all summer. One of the most amazing moments of my life was sitting on a Norman beach on Bastille Day (kind of their fourth of July). There was a huge choir singing all the national anthems of countries who had helped liberate them during the war. It was a magical evening.
The history is fascinating. I'm astonished when I look back at my French history book from college and remember that I could read and understand that years ago! (er. 'cause it was all in French, FYI)
I went back in 2000 with two of my friends. They were a little nervous when they saw my detailed itinerary and guide book I had made. What kind of vacation is this!? It's the kind where you get to see everything there is to see! By the end, I made believers out of them...they were excited that we fit so much in and that they knew what they were looking at.  :) Old buildings without context are just old buildings, after all. It was soo cold on that trip, but what a blast we had...our cobblestone route to the hotel in the Latin Quarter had a great creperie on the way. Ah. Crepes.
The last time I went was with Jerod on our honeymoon. We delayed our honeymoon until April so we could enjoy slightly warmer weather and not be so tired from the wedding festivities. We started our trip to Paris with my favorite "welcome to Paris" event...a ride down the Seine River on a bateau mouche. You get to see the city from the water and see all the major landmarks. One day, we just roamed the Latin Quarter and sat outside Notre Dame among the tulips and warm spring breeze.
I have seen Normandy, Mont St. Michel, the Loire Valley, Burgundy Region, the Mediterranean Coast at Montpellier and the Auvergne foothills. I have found the people to be lovely and helpful. The history and countryside, stunning. I have never felt safer in a large city than in Paris.
Interestingly, my sister-in-law did a detailed geneology for our family a few years ago. She found lots and lots of French ancestors. We had thought we were more Scottish/English. I think my blood knows there's lots of French in it. Wonder if I could get us all to France on $1000? I'm due for a visit.

Fewer Resolutions, More Living

It's no secret. I think that some kind of magic happens when the NYE ball drops. I always have. I used to write my resolution list in colorful markers and post it next to my bed. I am fairly good at keeping my resolve until at least March. Usually. But yesterday (New Years' Day), as I found myself eating nachos after church, I realized that there really isn't magic. I simply did not want a salad. I SHOULD want a salad. But as the guy stared at me, I stared at the menu board, at the lettuce, at the crispy crunchy nachos...magic lost. Waistline lost.
But, today is a new day. Every day is a new day. Minute by minute I can choose to make good decisions, for the health of me and my family. I can choose not to procrastinate with the dishes after dinner. I can choose to turn off the TV and read. I can choose salad. Or at least just eat half of the nachos. Or salad. Dang it! SALAD.
I feel like last year we were living in a tunnel, burrowing down and going comatose some. I got lazy about friendships and keeping up with people. Now that we're getting full night's sleep, though, I aim to start living again this year.
Day by day. Because His mercies are NEW every morning. Every day I get magic.
This year, I would like to:
1. Build my website. Just to learn how to do it. I own it, so I may as well finish it.
2. Paint a picture on a canvas. I have always thought there was a painter inside me. I'm sure I'm wrong, but it seems like such a freeing thing to try.
3. Write. More. Here...there? For myself and with God. God and I communicate really well journal-style. Plus, going back and reading my own words bolsters my soul and grows my faith. I see a pattern of God's faithfulness woven throughout my life.
4. Cut back. On things that I am excessive with. Moderation is healthy.
5. Be a friend. Be a good friend. I've never been so good at this, as I tend to be task-oriented and let friendships just happen to me. But knowing is half the battle.
6. Have fun. I know...it seems crazy to make a numbered list with the item "have fun" on it. But for me, numbered lists ARE FUN. And so is exploring...there are all kinds of things in our area to do. Now that Shepard is mobile and curious, we're going to find more things to do as a family and with other folks.


So, I have a list. It's numbered. But I hope that I embrace each day with these ideas. To breathe in the day that God has given me and make the most of it. Learn. Create. Communicate. Moderate. Engage. Not resolutions. Life.

Merry Christmas!

Here's a holiday card featuring the little one. Hopefully, we'll get a good family picture over the next few days.

Santa...(not for little eyes)

I've been giving Santa Claus a lot of thought over the past week or so. It's something we'll need to decide by this time next year. I must admit, I'm leaning on the side of THIS. (for real click over and read) 

My friend Michelle said it really well. I'll keep you posted. We won't be in the business of ruining anyone's fun and fantasy, but I think we're going to focus on Christ's birth and let Santa be the mascot, not the omniscient gift-giver. There's only one of those.

We'll still learn about St. Nicholas, get pictures with Santa, and watch Christmas movies. And we're still deciding. Shepard has no idea about all the hoopla this year. There is just a shiny tree in place of his toy box right now. Most of all, I want him to learn about giving, grace and obedience in the context of scripture rather than fairy tales; and we want to create meaningful traditions.

UPDATE: Since I posted this this morning, I also ran across this blog. I'm inclining more and more to eschewing the over-materialization of Christmas. More for me to think about and consider.

Christmas 2011

Working...an update and a history

If I post today, then it looks like I at least attempted during November, right? I had two friends returning to work today and leaving their precious 2-month old sweeties in the arms of another. Both were asking aloud on facebook how that was going to work. Boy, do I know that feeling. I sent up extra prayers for them. It's the hardest thing to do.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I spent months working on our budget, crunching the numbers sixteen different ways, hoping it would magically turn out that I could be a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). I had been keeping up with our budget, so I knew what we were spending in a given category. There was just no magic. We make fine livings in the teacher-pay-grade category (due to the tanking state economy, I still make the same amount as a teacher with far less experience than I have...yippeeee!). We are comfortable. But, there was just no way to come up with a spare $900-$1000 a month. That's what it would take to cover our bills and basics no matter what I cut out. We live in a VERY affordable 1200 square foot house. It's cheaper for our mortgage than most apartment rents. We drive a 10-year-old truck and a car that will paid off in the spring. We live south of Charlotte, so our gas, taxes and everything is cheaper for us than our northern neighbors. We have the free cell phones with no data plan. Most of the "toys" we have were given to us in random acts of graciousness--cameras, iPad, computer, etc. We do have cable and internet, but cutting that out would not only cut a SAHM off from the world, but would only add about $80/month to the household. Cutting professional clothing from the budget would be maybe an average of another $50-$100 month. MAYBE. I work in town, so my gas costs wouldn't really go down, as there are still errands to run. I might have more time to coupon, so possibly I could save $100/month on groceries and maybe $60/month on eating out. We don't have a home phone, take very few trips/vacations (that's what we already cut), and have been extremely blessed with TONS of second-hand stuff for Shepard.
Even if you add up the maybe-savings, at the most, you're looking at $350/month. There was nothing I could do to make up the other $650/month shortfall, aside from moving to an apartment so we don't have home upkeep expenses. But then, you have no equity, interest write-off, etc. We explored even that. Even taking childcare expense out of the equation, there was still not enough.
I can truly say I want for nothing. I can also truly say that it's sad when you have two people who have ZERO credit card debt and don't live extravagantly cannot afford to let one parent stay home.
I don't know how people do it.
But over the past year, I've learned a lot. I am not super-mom. I am just doing the best I can to juggle all of this. Most days, I feel like I'm not doing anything well. I'll never be organized enough, creative enough or anything enough...and that's ok. I let myself off the hook. Working makes me interesting, forces me to prioritize, and gives me a lunch break to run errands toddler-free. Did you know that you can buy groceries for the week, get the cold stuff put away, eat a sandwich and get back to work in less than an hour? Hmmm?
I do really well with deadlines and expectations. I'm not sure I'd be ME without a job or something to get my day going with a schedule. I thrive in the confines of external responsibility. I long for more time for my family, but God hasn't yet provided me with another alternative. HE (God) is my job. My employment is a way to provide for my family. Until we form a commune or one of us lands the CEO job somewhere, this is what we have. We're determined to make it work. God is helping us. God loves us, and certainly loves Shepard. I'm leaning on Him and counting on Him to work it all out.
If you have any leads on winning lotto numbers or posh part-time jobs, holla at me!  :)

Just a slice of life

I woke up with pink eye Saturday morning (joy). I'd never had it. But I definitely had it. One look in the mirror and I said, "I look like the creature from the blue lagoon."
Jerod: "you mean the black lagoon?"
Me: "Yeah, the black lagoon. The blue lagoon was a movie, wasn't it."
Jerod: "If you looked like the creature from the blue lagoon, you'd look like Brooke Shields..." the prospect made him smile.
Me: "Definitely not looking like Brooke Shields today. Sorry, honey."

Weaving some Christmas threads

I'm going to start this post without knowing where it will end. Perhaps it will iron itself out on the way. This week, I had the surreal experience of having made a debut in a music video. Seriously! It's not like I'm a rock star. I really truly like singing in choirs and singing back-up, so I'm never comfortable 100% with being at the CENTER of the stage. I just like being ON the stage. There's a difference.
Here's the video:


The guy who helped us with this (Adam Hobbs) did such an amazing job on the video! And God did such an amazing job on the lighting! It had threatened rain that day to the point that we thought we might be making a mud-slinging video. Then, about an hour or so before we started shooting, the clouds opened and the farm was bathed in beautiful sunlight. But wait, there's more.
Fast forward to last night.
I was driving home VERY late from a full day in Columbia. We had spent quite a bit of energy and had eaten a fantastic but heavy meal (horseshoes! YUM!). And, to make matters worse, my night owl had taken over my body the night before, and I was going on very little sleep. I was at the wheel, and trying hard to focus on something besides the center line, dash-dash-dash-dash-zzzz and the hum of the tires.
I began thinking through the words of this song (from the Christmas production I'm in in December). When I'm slated to sing something I really like to meditate on the meaning. A lot of the sentiments expressed are directly related to the Shepherd's perspective on the night of Christ's birth. He is exuberance and excitement. When he arrives at the stable, this rambling and rough-hewn guy is all reverence and humility. He packages all of the mysticism of the evening when he and his friends RUN to the place the star is pointing and says, "Open your eyes. Listen." There's so much wrapped up here, but I think what he's so enthralled by is the sheer overpowering nature of being in the presence of God himself. Overpowering and yet, approachable. What's sweeter in the world than a newborn? But still, the son of God.

COME ON RUN, RUN, RUN! To the eye of the storm.

Where all creation calls His name Emmanuel!

Emmanuel. God with us. We are able to escape the storm by seeking His presence. In the eye of the storm ("Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. Even silence keeps silent."). He came to the storm called earth and changed the course of history by creating a place of quiet rest. The stable became a true sanctuary. One of my favorite passages in all of the Bible is Psalm 63.

¹ O God, you are my God;
      I earnestly search for you.
   My soul thirsts for you;
      my whole body longs for you
   in this parched and weary land
      where there is no water.
 ² I have seen you in your sanctuary
      and gazed upon your power and glory.
 ³ Your unfailing love is better than life itself;
      how I praise you!
 ⁴ I will praise you as long as I live,
      lifting up my hands to you in prayer.
 ⁵ You satisfy me more than the richest feast.
      I will praise you with songs of joy.

 ⁶ I lie awake thinking of you,
      meditating on you through the night.
 ⁷ Because you are my helper,
      I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings.
 ⁸ I cling to you;
      your strong right hand holds me securely.

All of THAT to say, I am singing this invitation, RUN TO THE EYE OF THE STORM, to invite everyone who can hear to "the shadow of His wings." A place where we can find rest, restoration, joy, peace, praise, help, security...this song is one of the most beautiful I've ever heard. I am honored to sing it this Christmas as I invite folks along to engage the baby whose birth changes everything. Not changed. Changes. Can I get an AMEN!?

Walks Among the Trees

I admit it. I have always had a weakness for tall men and an aversion to shorter ones. I mean, short dudes are fine, but I wasn't attracted. My college roommates faulted me for this. While THEY were allowed to think a guy had cute eyes, nice knees or perfect hair...yes, you see my point. I couldn't help it. When I entered a room full of folks, I was immediately smitten with tall ones. And not because I am brushing 6' myself, mind you. I'm only hitting 5'5" in my low wedge heels.
These girls (whom I love) assured me that it would be just like God to send the man of my dreams packaged in a 5'6" body. I did have a fleeting crush on a 5'8" guy once. He had a heck of a personality and great wit.
You can imagine my sheer delight when a certain 6'10" cutie/smartie entered my life armed with cooking skills, a college degree, and a sweet heart. All this and tall too!? Shut the front door.
Our friend Elisabeth gave him the Native American name 'Walks Among the Trees.' (Mine, incidentally is 'Shops Among the Shoes')
I truly enjoy watching little kids in stores crane their necks in wonder and adults watching him walk by and talking about him as though his ears are too far up for him to hear...not to mention the short tag-along trying to keep up. He takes it all in stride, with his easy demeanor.
Sadly, he met a taller fellow (7'2"!!!) at a festival on Saturday and walked over to strike up a conversation, figuring they could have a laugh, commiserate, pelt things at unsuspecting folks' heads...but the poor dolt soured his face up and promptly walked away without even a word. Apparently, his height and all the attention has made him a little bitter. His girlfriend was kind enough to share a few words and even coerce the mean giant into a photo op. The guy still never said anything.
Bizarre to me, really.
My Tall One isn't necessarily one to grab the center of attention, but at least he knows how to smile, talk, and make the most of the height that God gave him. It's really a gift. I mean, how else would I get down my crock pot, blender, ice bucket, etc.? I'll tell you how, the glass blender would fall on my eye and bruise me. It's happened! We don't have a step stool b/c I can usually count on Jerod to fetch the stuff above 5'9". He can always see the stage at a concert, and can navigate crowds of people with ease. I can always find him in a store. And he makes me feel petite. That's worth a lot!
I can't believe we're closing in our SEVENTH anniversary. Seems like just yesterday he was remarking that our furniture, etc. work work well together on our FIRST DATE (ha ha ha!).  ;)
Love you the ocean, Jerod Jones.

Identity Crisis 102 or version 3.6

I seem to be in the midst of a small identity crisis. I definitely had one around 27 years old as I began to realize the person I was in my head really didn't match up with the person I actually was. I pictured myself as a young professional who spent evenings at the opera and on the town, vibrant and married-any-day to an equally young, hip, smart guy. Or sometimes in my head, I was an outdoorswoman, adept at the finer points of camping and hiking. Or a gourmet cook, just waiting for a crowd to cook for.
I realized that what I was actually DOING was working with youth...a lot...falling into bed late at night tired from dreaming up ways to connect these students to God...planning outreach and dramas and camps and occassionally having my own fun with them and with friends in the midst of it. And despite the fact that the person I had dreamed up along the way didn't actually match the person I was, I was ok with it. I felt that I was making a difference, or at least trying to. While I enjoy the outdoors quite a lot, it wasn't the centerpiece of my free time. And I still haven't magically morphed into a cook of any good repute. I cook when I have to because we need to eat. I am a pro at following directions, but there should be some warning on recipes that you can follow the process to a "T" and some invisible curveball can still sully your soup.
Here I am in my mid-30's feeling all weird again. Now in an academic environment, I feel as if I could keep pace with the academic-types who surround me, but I don't really have the background or academic "pedigree" to do so. I'm also swirling with ideas that I should write--as in more than self-centered blog posts--but am not sure exactly what I should be writing about or when to do that. Additionally, I miss those days of missions trips and outreach to folks in different circumstances than I was. I miss meeting real needs to actual needy people. It can be sometimes unfulfilling to meet needs of privileged, well-fed and well-heeled folks all the time. It has its place, as those folks can often fund outreach; but I miss getting in the thick of life.
Time and I have always had a love-hate relationship. I always intend to squeeze more out of it than it will actually allow. Even as a child, I juggled Brownies (the kind with badges, not chocolate), piano lessons, bike riding, gymnastics, cheerleading, band, and on and on. I have always been a multi-tasker. I'm trying diligently to streamline myself these days. To focus on what's really important--my awesome husband who far exceeds the one I dreamed up, my sweet son who seems to learn 14 new things a day, getting to work on time and getting my job done well, loving God, investing in others (why is this so hard for me!?), and figuring out where I'm supposed to be GOING. I don't want to just stop and hang out. But right now, I am trying to reconcile these lifelong dreams about where I thought I would be and where I actually AM. Do you just take one step at a time and hope you end up where you're "supposed" to? Or do you lasso God and ask Him to intervene and shake things up?
These are my questions today. I simply cannot imagine that I will have to keep wondering. I need these notions answered. I really need to be doing something bigger than myself and my dreams. Stay tuned.

Be my guest, Tracey Rouse

My friend Tracey Rouse recently moonlighted as a guest star blogger on my Pastor's amazing blog. Her post so aptly describes what I feel my own calling is, that I decided to have her be a guest star blogger on MY blog too! Welcome Tracey Rouse, everyone.



I have been Executive Pastor at Renovatus for all of six months and feel fairly unqualified at this point in my career to impart inspiring leadership lessons. However, in racking my brain over what to blog about, I realized that what I do have is a lifetime of experience in following. I also happen to think that concept of followership is an understated precursor to leading well, so maybe it is a good place to start!



My all-time favorite TV show is The West Wing. Fortunately for me, Pastor Jonathan knows the show well and appreciates (or at least tolerates) the unending references to it that I make on a regular basis. There is a scene from the show that sums up the roles of the Lead Pastor and the Executive Pastor at Renovatus well, I think, or at least it does for me! The Deputy Chief of Staff says to the President of the United States in a particularly poignant moment, “You know what the difference is between you and me? You wanna be the guy. I wanna be the guy the guy counts on.”


I’ve never aspired to be “The Guy.” It is of absolutely no interest to me in any context, really. I always want to be “the guy that the guy counts on.” (This is one of the reasons my current occupation is like living the dream!) I’m guessing growing up as the daughter of a Brigadier General might have played a part in some of this. Honor and respect were non-negotiable in my house. We placed a high premium on dependability and integrity. And naturally I developed a profound respect for uniting under one vision, for trusting in a chain of command, for following the leader. Orders are not optional and commands aren’t up for consideration. In the military, these principles literally protect lives and protect the mission. And while it is an imperfect analogy, it still translates into our context of church leadership. Do you take seriously the ministry you have been called to? Do you recognize the high stakes of what it means to actually be the church?


If so, I implore you: Strive to be the guy that the guy counts on, no matter what your ambition or calling. Follow your leaders. Trust in God’s lordship over your own life and over their lives, as well. They will not lead flawlessly, but extend the same grace given to you when you do not follow flawlessly.


Follow your leaders as they follow Christ (I Cor 11:1). Follow in such a way that inspires and empowers others to follow you.


Tracey Rouse is Executive Pastor of Renovatus: A Church for People Under Renovation.

How I know I'm old...at 36

I'm no spring chicken. This is all surprising to me since I feel about 28. However, I noticed some crow's feet on my latest round of photos. They should call them "happy feet" since you probably get them from smiling a lot. Which is why I'm ok with getting older. I'm in a good place for the most part. There are sooo many more things I still have on my life's to-do list, but I've checked off a lot too.
I was thinking about things today that are unique to folks in their upper thirties and above. I tend to be among the oldest in my friend circles these days (geez!).
So here's a list for kicks and giggles:

1. When I took TYPING in high school, I learned on an electric typewriter and with a real book. No computer keyboards for us! We turned in our typing tests to be hand-graded by an actual human, too.
2. I did not have a method by which to watch a movie in my home until I was 14 years old unless it came on TV and I found it in the TV guide or newspaper or happened upon it with a remote. We were a little late on the VHS-wagon, to be sure. But most everyone I know has been able to "rent" a movie or view one at will since they were little kids.
3. Speaking of movies, it was a big fat hairy deal when "The Sound of Music" or "The Wizard of Oz" would come on once a year...since I had no other way to watch them.
4. I did not have a cell phone until college, at which point, it was still a major novelty to my friends. I only got it because I was working a swing shift in Charlotte over the summer. It was for emergency use only. So, I didn't REALLY have a cell phone until after college to use for real.
5. I never used the internet to write a research paper. We had email and online library systems, but the internet was still a bit of a mystery when I went through school. Imagine my learning curve when I took a master's class in English in '06! I had to learn how to do that kind of research (hint: it doesn't involve Google searches).
6. And since we didn't have internet and had not really used it much, the idea of HOLDING IT in the PALM OF YOUR HAND was redunkulous. We used phone books made of paper that doubled as seat boosters if you were short.
7. And it's not all technology stuff, since of course that all changes at the speed of light. I was never a princess, had no desire to be a princess and didn't even understand the allure of ballet class since they had to wear those silly tutus and tights. I wasn't exactly a raging tomboy either. Just a regular girl doing gymnastics, piano, Brownies, etc. The princess culture drives me bananas for soooo many reasons. But, back in my day, it just wasn't the thing. We pretended to be actual things that could earn an actual paycheck one day, like teachers and book salespeople (another story for another day).
8. I rode a bike. A lot. And played in the woods. A lot. And I watched reruns of the Flying Nun and the Brady Bunch. I get very excited when I see kids in our neighborhood playing outside. I wonder what the world will look like in 20 years when children of the '00's grow up and discover they can't zap their boss with a Wii controller or wave a magic wand to make the world a better place.
9. The last reason I know I'm old. I just basically used the phrase "kids today..." with a wistful shake of the head and slightly disapproving air.

Trash or Created in His image?

I have a friend from college that posted on facebook something about a recent trial in our area. The woman was convicted of killing her newborn. He said something to the effect of "this trash deserves the death penalty."
I have a heart for justice; don't get me wrong. I think it is a basic instinct and God-given (since we are created in His image) instinct to see consequences to misdeeds--our own or other's.
I didn't engage with this friend, since facebook isn't always the forum to start a war of words. Instead, I'll spend a minute here working out my thoughts in the relative privacy of my blog.  :)
I was convicted a few years ago about calling people "White Trash." And as much as I want to describe folks like this to you for the potential humor value, I'm not even allowed to do that. Because it's demeaning and I think horrifies God when we call His children "trash."
I still believe that it is God's heart to redeem humanity. The good, the bad and even the horrifying ones. I think he showed us His great grace and mercy when He forgave the thief on the cross and gave Him an assurance of joining Him in paradise.
As Christians, we have placed ourselves in His seat as judges of human trespasses. Can I understand why someone would kill a sweet, innocent baby? NO. Never. It hurts my heart, as I really literally would have taken the baby to raise. I do know that the enemy our souls is always at work, and the residue of a sinful world can be hard to escape. I don't know what kind of world this mom grew up in. She might have been so broken and scarred that she had nothing to draw from in the way of God's goodness. She deserves a punishment in the natural world, to be sure; but I would love to see her healed and whole.
We are called to love all people and see them as God sees them. I don't have any forgiveness passes to give out. All I can do is point to the cross. It changed the course of history. It changed my life. It can change ANY life. Jesus died for ALL sins. I simply can't believe that we can call anyone "trash" and carry the cross at the same time. We all deserve to be tossed into a pile to be crushed and burned. But Jesus said "NO. I will side with them. They are not trash."

When you fall off the blog wagon, you just keep getting back up.

We went to the beach. I didn't used to love it, but now I do. The sweat, the sand, the breeze and birds...the people watching! What's up with old guys, speedos and being way-too-tan?! "Sir, you look like a baked potato wearing an indecent red diaper."
I digress.
I realized on my last two trips that I have a significant fear of walking on a dark beach. A fear that I find not at all unreasonable. There are so many things to step on! Jellyfish bodies, living creatures with tiny pincers, sea shells, broken glass, bottle caps, seaweed, fish, leftover lunches...perhaps it's because I was never allowed to go barefoot. I can barely stand to be barefoot in my own house. I always always have something on my feet. ALWAYS. I really can't stand to step on something squishy or slimy or alive. The idea of stepping on a jellyfish sends me into mild convulsions. So, what may seem like an unreasonable and insignificant fear to say...Jerod...is an absolute terror for me.
Our late-evening walk down the beach then became a highlight for my foot-squishing-fear. We had a small flashlight with us, but I could not focus on the sound of the ocean or anything else because I was lurching with fear. The wind was also so stiff that we couldn't hear each other talk if we were turned just the wrong way. There was a family out searching for creatures...and finding them (!!!) which also didn't help my state of mind. This issue went on for a full thirty minutes. Finally, I commandeered the flashlight and was able to walk in peace. Why didn't I think of that earlier? Now I knew just where to step and could relax some.
Of course, the Lord can use our fears to teach us more about Him. Jerod and I even discussed our fears--big and small--as we walked. As we finished our walk and headed back up to the boardwalk, I had such a great understanding of the words in Psalm 119 that promise "My Word is a lamp to your feet and a light to your path."
Knowing, reading, and studying God's Word reveals His character to me. I have faith that he will not let my foot slip...and He will neither slumber nor sleep. (Psalm 121) When His Word illuminates my path, I will know where to step next. Granted, a lamp at my feet--much like our piddly flashlight--only illuminates a few steps at a time. I'm not privvy to what's a year down the road. I do get so caught up in wanting to know what the big master plan is! God promises to give me safe footsteps. If I keep following him day after day, I'll end up where I need to be. Safe and sound. I may have to jump puddles or scale some walls, but He will be there every step of the way.

Bliss and Chaos

I took my journey to the mountains. And it was lovely. Except for the little traffic snag through Shelby, NC, which I ameliorated with a Cookout milkshake. I have oft heard tale of the Cookout milkshake and their 40 flavor offerings. Peanut Butter Fudge kept me happy while I drudged through stop-and-go. The nice lady on my GPS took me up a road I'd never traveled, complete with farms, antique stores (I lost any extra time in that traffic. SHOOT!), barns and sprawling ranch homes. I would momentarily become whistful about living in the country and then remember that these people had little to no access to a Target or grocery store. I love rolling fields, but am just not quite ready for loss of amenities.
Where was I? Oh yes, winding up the foothills toward Marion. I arrived in Montreat just in time for a light rain. As I waited for the group to arrive, I listened to the rain dripping out of the mountain laurel and smelled the mossy-dirt smell that instantly makes me want to throw a tent in the woods and cook something yummy over an open flame. And listen for bears.
Then I met my companions for the weekend. Pretty much all of us are mothers of pre-schoolers, with a grandparent or two enlisted in helping "Dad" with childcare so we could make a quick escape. I instantly felt at home with these ladies, after we cleared up that I was not the housekeeper. I might have laughed so hard I peed. But I won't tell.
Life has been so full of hurry and the mysteries of pre-toddlerhood lately that I hardly knew what to do with myself upon being given the option to shop or sleep/read. In the instant I had to decide, sleep/read won. Boy, did it win.

The group after our killer hike up Lookout Mountain. I won't lie. I was dying. But I did it!

I loved our retreat study, Loving Well, by Beth Moore. I hate to tell my Baptist friends, but that lady is all-out Pentecostal!  :) In any case, it was so evident that she is a woman of prayer and love above all. We really dove in to divine love, loving beyond our capabilities. Anyone can love those who love them back. But we are called to love the unlovable, the unloved, our enemies and the stranger. An by love, I mostly mean "serve." That's what love really is when it comes down to it. Am I willing to give up some of my "me..." my time, my resources, my energy and spend it on "my neighbor?" Very challenging. I need to continue drinking from the loving well to love well.
Of course, wee little dude decided to really take off walking AFTER I LEFT on Friday. I mean, I was home until 2:30 pm! Daddy and Grandma got to watch him do 7-8 steps at a time. Oh well, he put on a walking show for me when I got home by walking from the front door to the sofa! And don't ask me why I put exclamation points all up in this paragraph. His walking means more mommy running--hopefully outrunning. And that sneaky momma-fear that creeps over you when things get a little too quiet. I will always be wondering where he's going to go next and hoping like heck the bathroom door is closed and he isn't discovering what his rubber ducky looks like in the toilet bowl.
The mountains were bliss and peace...but so is my current chaos.

Driving Alone...God and my iPod

I am heading to the hills tomorrow because it's just too hot to breathe. Literally. My asthma and the ozone are at odds. I have been planning to go on a ladies' retreat to the mountains with a bunch of ladies I don't even know. Not sure what would possess me to do such a thing, other than mountains in June sounded very enticing. I mean, I know ONE person, my sister-in-law who invited me to tag along. I have yet to spend a night away from Shepard, so this will be a test run. Daddy and Grandma will hold things down with the munchkin, so he's in good great hands.
I realized this morning that I haven't been alone in a car for more than about an hour in probably more than a year. I've hardly gone anywhere without tag alongs! What will I do with five delicious hours with God and iPod? I will probably sing myself hoarse, since I LOVE to crank up my tunes and belt it out. And I'm taking the scenic route through the hills. And I might just stop and take pictures of anything beautiful I see, just because I can. I will plan a little extra time for that. I may or may not stop and get a milkshake. I'm not telling.
I do dearly hope that the heat doesn't follow me. If I could be an X-Man mutant, I would have the ability to create weatherproof forcefields around my body and provide that service to anyone else who wanted it. I would call myself SHIELD. (Rain-X is probably copyrighted)
Here's to an adventure! Here's to new friends! Here's to scenic routes in the mountains and milkshakes and singing at the top of my lungs because I can!
See you on the flip side!