I have a pretty scar on my right knee. 9 stitches. I remember thanking God for Novocaine shots that night.

While chasing a boy who deserved a whooping, my foot got in the path of swiftly moving fellow chaser and SMASH! to the pavement we went. 

I am proud of that scar. And of the story that lent that scar to me. 

But there is a far greater story that moves my heart to great joy. 

It is the story of a man who lived long ago and loved me more than I can imagine. He loved me so much that He chose to suffer wounds that were deep and will leave eternal scars. 

As I prep for an Easter service at my church, the hunt for meaningful material led me to this quote

"Our scars tell part of the story of who we are, what has mattered to us, what has happened to us, the risks we’ve taken, the gifts we’ve given.  And as we are reminded in the story before us in John’s Gospel, this was surely also so with Jesus, too. Which is why Thomas insisted he needed to see, no more than that, feel the scars in his hands and put his own hand in Jesus’ side to be sure that it was him.  One would think he would have recognized him with from the features of his face or the sound of his voice, but no, for Thomas, Jesus had become something more since that long walk to the cross a week before.  Jesus’ very identity was now defined by the sacrifice he had made in our behalf.  A sacrifice made most visible in those wounds that by then could have only begun to heal." -Janet H. Hunt, Scars and Stories, Doubt and Faith

I hope that the sacrifice that Jesus offered will always ring true to my heart. And I am eager for the one-day-coming-soon when I can hold those precious scared hands and say "Thank You". 

May the scars of your life make you aware of what you love and how you love. 

Old Poem

"My soul is escaping in the liquid
running down my face.

I cannot slow down or break down.

So my soul is escaping to be free from the darkness within."

Written October 15, 2007

Found this old scribbling from dark days, lonely days. Enough time in this world tells me that I am not alone in having those feelings. And time also tells me that the blackness within does not, and will not, last forever.

You Can't Make Me

The common rant of children who are being forced to eat broccoli (or some offensive vegetable), clean their room or apologize to their tyrannical siblings is often heard in many a home. "You can't make me!" The bulging eyes of an enraged parent and the snap of a belt usually has the tot singing a different tune rather quickly. Despite the lovely echo one may hear of Bill Cosby saying "I brought you into the this world, and I can take you out of it", the reality of being made to do something we don't want to do can seem crushing. 

This week, as I was trying to iron out a situation, I got a phone call with nothing but stickers and burrs on the other end. All hostility and venom. Phew. Though the thought of hanging up had me pulling the phone away from my head and looking longingly at the END key... I held on for more snapping. 

As I hung up (politely, thank you) and replayed the conversationin my head, I started to get really mad. Like call back and yell mad. 

And then, something stopped me. I started chanting over and over in my head "You can't make me"

You can't make me lose my temper. 

You can't make me spitting angry. 

You can't make me say bad words. 

You can't make me.

You can't make me lose my joy.

You can't make me have a bad day.

You can't make me give up this sunshine in my soul.

You can't make me!

Too many times I have allowed someone to 'make me' and stupidly blamed them for the fallout. Reality? They can't make me. In a life where I am holding on to Jesus and asking Him for guidance and direction, taking time to ask Him to fill my day with things that will draw me closer to Him, nobody can 'make me'. 

Jesus says He came to give us life and life abundantly. Not life squished and mushed and holed up in some back corner of the universe. Abundant life! The thieves come to steal and destroy (check out John 10:10) but not God. He comes to give us life - a life full and overflowing (Psalm 23:5).

Don't let the thieves steal your joy, your abundant peace, the grace that God offers you. Hold on to the promise and live your life effervescing. And let the bullies know - " You can't make me!"

It's the pretty things...

This stunning spike ball is a wonder! I had an encounter with this strange sea creature-ish looking thing a little more than a year ago. Though it looks somewhat dreamy, wonderful and amazing, this little thing will make you sick. Sick, Sick. In fact i thought i may never recover any appetite or the ability to drink water again after our brief encounter.

That glowing tentacled mass is the swine flu virus.
Oh looks and their deceptive little ways!

This little ball of wonder is not in fact a toy at Disneyland despite the Mickey Mouse shaped heads protruding from it's peachy face. This bad guy is gone getcha, getcha and make you wish you had never met.

Yes, dear reader, the amazing influenza virus. I have spent two days at home getting better acquainted with this meanie recently.
Pretty, no?

Perhaps my favorite of the lot, this apparent child's toy, complete with suction cups on it so it can walk down walls with the force of gravity is indeed not so innocent. This adorable little thing caused major panic globally when it was encountered.

Introducing - the avian flu! Also known as the bird flu, this little beastie will try to kill you. In earnest.
And it just looks so cute!

The point? you ask.
Ah yea.
The things that seem pretty can be vicious.
The things that seem vicious can be pretty good for you.

Books. Covers.
Judge wisely.

It's every day

I find myself very busy at this point in my life. Up early, to bed late. Run, run, run.

And frankly, I love it!

I love that I get to work with awesome people, day in and day out. I have love spilled onto me every day from hugging children, joyful adults and gift bearing friends.

I also love that never, ever can i predict what my day will be like. I know it will be long and sometimes confusing. But I never know who will need help, who will pull someones heart up out of the depths of lonely, or what story I will hear. I have no idea of how much I will laugh, or cry.

I live every day with a sense of wonder. I wonder what will happen next.

I think this must be what the people who followed Jesus as He walked here on earth felt like. They never had an idea what He would do, where they would head, what mind blowing revelation they would hear. And every day they saw miracles.

I see miracles every day too. Don't you?

Why I believe in castration

The recent news of the horrific rapes of almost 200 women and even some small boys in the Eastern Congo makes me mad.

To use sex as a weapon is vile. To remove any sense of trust and safety, to destroy the health of a person, to allow the culture to shun a person for something that IS NOT their fault... It makes me angry. Spitting angry. Or chopping angry.

I think that any man who ever, EVER, rapes or violates a woman or child or another man should have his weapon of choice, removed, by force, forever.

We take away guns, knives, grenade launchers, whatever... from terrorists and crazy people. We lock people up who have made threats of violence. We punish people for their bad choices.

Rape is a bad choice!

Take away their weapons! By force!

Peeking

I came out of work the other day and saw this peeking back at me.

I sure do love my car.
I love seeing her sitting in the midst of all the swollen, over-sized mongrels with her cheeky headlamps peering out, looking eager for a ride.

The sight of her makes me smile.

It warms my heart to know that when God sees me peeking back at Him, with my cheeky grin, eager to spend some time riding with Him, He smiles too...