My Little Gift

 My little gift, 

  I think of you often, and long to speak to you - but for some reason that only God knows, that may never be.   While I know it's silly to write to someone who isn't - yet - sometimes I think it's the only way to keep my heart from exploding. 

 You see, you've lived in my heart for such a long time. It's as if I know you - without ever having seen you.  In the eye of my heart I can see your dimpled hands reaching toward me, and the gentle breeze ruffling your wispy blonde hair. 

  It seems circumstances are keeping us apart, and there's no way of knowing if that will ever change. 

  There's always someone to tell me "it's not worth the risk", or "you can always adopt", as if that's somehow the same, or that it's an easy choice to make. 

  To them it's a simple surgery.  To me, it's choosing my life over yours. 

  So often your mischievous little grin gets between my eyes and my work, and I long to just scoop you up and hold your soft, chubby little self all day.   

  For years I've been collecting clothes and toys for you. 

  For years I've been building a library for you: children's books, fanciful stories, histories, grammars in several languages. So many books, on so many topics, because I don't know yet what your interests will be, so I'm trying to cover them all. 

  For years I've known your name. 

  Some months ago I gave in to the pressure, and signed the forms to get the surgery.  But ever since, all I see is your big, sad, grey/blue eyes looking at me, almost pleadingly.   I chickened out, and never scheduled, because it feels like killing you - and that's not something I can do. 

  I've struggled for so long, wondering why God has chosen to keep us apart? How does He get any glory from this? How do empty arms please Him? 

  I've heard so many stories of how God used some of the most broken people to bring Him glory - but where do I fit in that?  Isn't there enough brokenness in my life already, that He could use? Why do you have to be the sacrifice? 

  It's a grief, a loss, that feels wrong to have, because you're not real - you've only ever been in my heart. 

 

  But - if you're so deeply in my heart - could it be you're in God's heart too......? 

  If He let me love you for this long, He clearly had a reason for it, and maybe it was so I could love others better?  Maybe I needed to experience another loss, so I could better understand others when they are grieving? 

  It's so hard to let go of something/someone I've never held.   But you've been in my heart this long, and there you will always be.

  Others may never see your face, or hear your name - but I know it, and what it means: and you truly are a gift from God - even if only in my dreams. 

  I may never hold you in my arms, but as long as I'm alive, you'll live on inside my heart.  

  No one is truly gone as long as there is someone to remember them. 

  And don't worry baby, I've always felt you were real. And to me, you always will be. 

The Gift Never Given

  Christmas: A time of celebration - of new birth, redemption, salvation, family, the list goes on. 

 For some of us, it's a time of deep mourning.  

 Doing my shopping during the Christmas season has always been a bit of a drudgery, simply because the stores are packed, and people seem to have forgotten how to drive. 

 Last year was hard, because I had hoped to be making a special announcement over Christmas just like other people do - but instead, I was trying to accept the new reality of having cancer. 

 This year; after a whole year of fighting, and hoping for a good report - the day after Thanksgiving I was told it got slightly worse.  It's not life threatening. It's a simple fix - just cut it out. But it feels like what being cut out is my heart. 

 Most day it's fine. But the little things always get me. Like the "Baby's First Christmas" ornament hanging on the shelf at Walmart. The one I had sort of hoped to use as an announcement.  Or, the Cyber Monday deals on toys.   Seeing other people browsing the toy section trying to find the perfect gift for the toddler desperately trying to keep up with their larger steps.  Or the new baby announcements on Facebook. Tons of them. Everyone seems to be pregnant, or newly delivered. Everyone that is, except me. 

 There's the off hand remark about "You can always adopt", as if that were the same thing. Or, "It's better than losing your life" as if this doesn't feel like death. 

 Here's the thing about infertility.  It IS a death.   It's a dream that never comes true. It's a life that never was. 

 Sure, I need to have the cancer removed so that I don't die.  There's no chance of pregnancy with cancer anyway, so might as well have it out.   But to me - there is a baby. And getting it out is not just saving my life, but is choosing my life over theirs. It's removing any future possibility of children. Children that I can see every time I close my eyes. Every time I see someone else's child, I think of the child that only I can see. That only I know.  

 Just because there has never been a heartbeat, doesn't mean he/she isn't real - to me.   

 Infertility is the loss of a child that no one else recognizes.  A child that never existed, except to one person.  It's a miscarriage that never happened, but feels like it did.  It's a loss that isn't socially acceptable to mourn. 

 An orphan is a parentless child.  Infertility is a childless parent. 

 It's a grief that can't be seen or felt unless you've walked the same path.  

 It's a depression so deep that life loses visible meaning. 

 It's a death with no closure, because you can't even give them a decent burial. 

 It's a hole in your heart that can never be filled. 

 It's feeling guilty for not being "happy" during a time of celebration, but not having anything in you that wants to celebrate. 

 It's feeling like nothing is right, and never can be. 

 Infertility is a silent grief that often gets ignored, or misunderstood.  

 It's a grief that is very real.  

 It needs time to heal, just like any other kind of grief. 

 It needs grace.

 It needs understanding.

 It needs space.

 It needs recognition. 

 It needs time. 

Wyatt's Accident

 I haven't written on this, partly because I haven't made the time for it, and partly because it's still too painful.

 It's been just over a year since our Wyatt went Home, and the pain hasn't gone away yet.  I thought these things were supposed to get better with time, but nobody ever said how much time....

 My brother lived well.  Not perfectly. He was far from perfect. I'm not trying to deify him, or revert to the old attitude of "never speak ill of the dead". He had many faults. Many annoying habits, and down right wrong ideas about things.  But he knew how important it is to love people, and he did.

 Last year; June 20th, 2018, I picked him up at the bus station.
 That day I worked short shift (6-10 AM) as an aid, then PM shift as cook - we had our resident/family picnic, so I didn't get off until closer to 8 instead of the usual 7 o'clock. After work I had to pick up my car in a neighboring town, 20 minutes away, so a friend picked me up at the house after work and took me to the mechanic, then I drove to Sioux Falls to get Wyatt from the bus station.  The bus got in at 7, and it was close to 10:30 when I finally got there - and it had been raining the whole time.
 When I got to where Wyatt was waiting - down the road from the station, under an awning - he never mentioned the long, wet, wait, he was just happy to see me.

 The next day I planned to drive to Alabama for a visit before going to my cousins wedding in Wisconsin.  He wanted to go along.  Sadly, by the time we knew if he could come, I'd already made plans/reservations, and they couldn't be changed on such short notice, so he didn't get to go on my two week road trip.

 For the whole 3 months he stayed with us, (my grandma and I) we didn't get much time to go do fun stuff.  He got to experience going to the theatre for the first time. We went to Sioux Falls frequently to visit my uncle in the hospital, and we would run errands together - which several times, meant getting lost in Menards for an hour *grins*.  We went for dinner with friends a couple times. Otherwise, he spent his time helping Oma (grandma) around the house, and fixing things.
 He didn't complain even once.   He reroofed two sheds, refinished the deck, and fixed countless things around the house, by himself.  There were so many little things he did without saying a word, that we never knew about until months after he was gone - we kept finding little things he'd done. Little bits of his work here and there - little tokens of his love, left for us to benefit from long after he left.

 Some time in July, one of my tires developed a slow leak, but with the hours I was working, I didn't have a chance to get it patched.  Wyatt would ride his bike to where I worked, every evening, just before I got off work, and air up my tire, then he'd ride home. I didn't know he'd been there until I went to go home, and the tire was full.   Even when I worked late - he'd ride all the way across town, in the dark, carrying an air tank, so I could get home.

 Every night when I got off work - didn't matter if it was 7, or 10 PM, he'd be standing just inside the breezeway door to jump out and spook me when I got home.

 We tried to go to Bible study at church each week. At first, I would pick him up at the house after I got off work, but that made us late, so he would ride his bike to the church and meet me there.  After Bible study was over, he would load his bike in the back of my car, and we would ride home together.
 Every week, when I would turn the corner towards the church, I'd see him park his bike behind the sign, and then jump behind the tree in an attempt to spook me when I pulled up - having no idea I'd seen the whole thing.
 It was at these Bible studies, and church on Sundays, that he taught the Pastor's daughter to shake hands, and every time she would see him, her little hand would come out for him to shake, and they'd both be grinning from ear to ear.

 We spent countless nights, sitting up in my room until the wee hours of the morning, just talking.

 He and I were never super close growing up. We both "marched to a different drummer".  As my beliefs began to change several years ago, his did too - but not in the same direction.   When I left home, he felt I had betrayed the family, and he said things that hurt me very deeply.  We tried to be friendly towards each other, but we couldn't talk very long before one of us would erupt. 
 But last summer, we really got to know each other, and work through our differences.  While we never came to an agreement on most things - we finally understood each other, and when he left - I can honestly say - we were best friends.

 Some nights I'd get off work and he'd still be working on the roof, or the deck, and we'd sit out there together and talk.
 Some nights he came up to my room and we checked out my book collection, laughed, cried, and dreamed.
 Some nights he'd be sitting in the recliner, snipping plastic strips into squares, preparing it for being melted and repurposed (I still can't throw away a shampoo bottle without thinking he'll come rescue it and chop into bits for recycling), and I'd sit in my chair crocheting and listening to music.   One late night yarn "doodle" turned into the start of an afghan because he thought it was really pretty. 
 There were times I'd forget I had earbuds in, and start humming the harmony to whatever I was listening to. He would start waving his hand in front of my face and demand to know what I was doing *laughs*, then I'd give him the earbuds, and in the middle of the song crank the volume up and watch him give me this slow, sideways glare that would gradually turn into a grin.     There's certain songs, if I close my eyes, I can still hear the "snip, snip" of his plastic, and think if I turn my head, I'll see him sitting there, staring at his work, mulling over some weighty matter, oblivious to world around him.

 Oma had certain shows she'd watch on TV every night. Now I can't hear the theme songs for Andy Griffith or Hogan's Heros without hearing him whistling along with it.

 I usually had Thursdays off, and once in a very great while, I would end up with a weekend off. If for some reason we didn't end up going to Sioux Falls or running errands (which only happened a handful of times), I would practice piano for church, and he'd get out his violin - we'd start at the front of the hymnal, and play every song we knew, every now and then switching instruments - he got the biggest kick out of the fact that mom had no idea we had switched. We weren't sure if we were that good, or that bad. *laughs*
 Now I can't hear a violin or any of those hymns without thinking of those days, and in my minds eye, seeing him standing beside and slightly behind me at the piano.

 September 8th, 2018. I got some news that was very hard for me to process. It was painful. I just wanted to get off by myself and think. So, after work I hopped on my bike and took off around the bike trail. Wyatt wanted to go along, I didn't want anyone along, but he did his puppy eyes, and I gave in.  We went halfway around at high speed (when I'm thinking hard, I set a really fast pace) before he, out of breath, caught up to me and asked if we could go a little slower.  I felt bad, because I forgot he was even there. 
 That was the last time we rode bike together. I couldn't even walk the trail again, because it didn't seem right to go without him.

 Saturday, September 15th, 2018.  Somehow, I had the weekend off. I was still trying to process things, and just wanted one day away from people.  For some reason I had to go to Sioux Falls that day, but thought at least I'd have the time in the car to myself.   Wyatt heard I was going, and asked if he could go along.  I protested, because that would mean I wouldn't have any alone time. But, he got such a sad look on his face, and said "I'll be going home soon, and don't know when I'll see you again. Can't I go along? It might be our last chance to spend time together."   How could I say no to that?
 We had a blast. All we did was run errands, but we took our time and had fun. The whole time in the car we giggled up a storm.  His quirky sense of humor got my mind off all the gloomies of the previous weeks.  We even let ourselves dream about a bright future, that both of us had trouble believing would ever happen.
 We somehow got on the subject of middle names, and he randomly asked "What is my middle name?" shocked that he had forgotten, I answered "Lynwood.......", and he said "I knew that, I mean, does it have one or two 'N's' in it?"   Just two weeks later I was remembering that conversation, and somehow it seemed like something that happened in another life time, or that I'd read in a book - how could it be, he had been in the ground a whole day, and it had only been two weeks since we'd had that conversation?

 Sunday, September 16th, 2018.  We went out to lunch with people from church, and then spent the afternoon playing piano and violin together again, that time, starting in the back of the book and working toward the front.

 Thursday, September 20th, 2018.  We (Mom, Oma and I) took Wyatt to the bus station.  We got there early, so sat in the car waiting for the bus to get there. It was a chilly, rainy day.   Wyatt kept hugging each of us, and saying he had to "get in as many as possible, because I don't know when I'll see you again, and there has to be enough to last until then".   His hugs were what my sister calls "sticky cheese hugs". He would drape himself on you, and if you tried to push him off, the minute you stopped pushing, he'd snap back. And, he usually decided we needed a hug right when we were in the middle of something, like washing dishes (and he'd about dunk you in the sink), or writing something, doing laundry, etc. Always when you weren't really in a position to be giving or receiving hugs, and he usually came from behind, so you couldn't hug back even if you wanted to.
 This time, he kept making the rounds, giving each of us a bunch of hugs. The bus pulled up, unloaded, and started reloading, and he was still making his rounds hugging each of us. I was concerned he was going to miss the bus (I only wish he had...) so pushed him off and told him to get going.
 As we pulled out of the parking lot, I looked back toward the bus, and saw him standing in line, wearing his black Stetson, and carrying his violin case.  I waved, but he didn't see me.   The thought shot through my mind, "this is the last time you'll see him alive". I thought that was odd, and pushed it from my mind.   We then went on with our day.  Picked up some people that missed the connecting bus, and took them to Walmart for supplies to get through the night - while we were there Wyatt texted "Tell Mom Danny is picking me up at the bus station".  I'd been having trouble with limited memory on my phone, so deleted the message, and told Mom what he said.
 That night I went to Bible study alone. It felt weird not having Wyatt along. Everyone asked about him, and I told them he was on the bus heading home.

 Sunday, September 23rd, 2018.  I worked until close to 10:30 that night. It had been a very long, hard day at work, and I was glad it was over.  As I was about to head upstairs to get ready for bed, my sister called, frantic. All we could get out of what she was saying was that there had been an accident, and we didn't know who, but someone was hurt. At first I thought it was both Dad and Wyatt. Then she put Dad on and he said they were sleeping when a tree branch fell on the tent and hit Wyatt in the head. EMT's were taking him to the hospital, they'd call us when they got there. They didn't know how bad it was, only that he was still breathing, but wouldn't wake up.
 Mom said for me to go on to bed, she'd wake me up when they knew something.  I knew a head injury like that probably wasn't survivable, so I insisted we go out without waiting for a phone call.  I threw an overnight bag together for Mom and I, we jumped in the car, and drove all night. We made the 7 hour drive in 5 hours.

 We got to Rapid City Regional about 5:30 CST.   Dad and Amber gave us the story of what happened.  I talked to the nurse, asked how bad it was, and what his chances were.  She told me the end of the branch had cracked his left temple, and fractured the top of his jaw. His brain had been jarred, and disconnected enough that he wasn't getting enough blood/oxygen to his brain, so they needed to bring his blood pressure up in hopes of reaching the brain in time to avoid extensive damage. They had drilled a small hole in his head and put a monitor on his brain, to watch the pressure. They were giving him a drug to bring the pressure up, but his body was fighting it, so they were giving him a massive dose. They couldn't do any kind of operation until the pressure was normal. She said his chances of survival were very low, possibly around 30%. If he survived, he would essentially be a vegetable, and need years of therapy, and even then he probably wouldn't ever get back to normal.  I requested she not tell the rest of the family, we were already struggling to keep it together, that knowledge would just make it so much harder. I regret asking, because I feel like I kept focusing on that instead of believing for a miracle, and maybe I didn't believe hard enough.... (I know that's not right thinking, that God is sovereign and does as He pleases, whether we believe or not - but false beliefs still take root so easily).

 Mom and I sat with Wyatt for a while. The whole time, his legs kept half moving, half twitching. The nurse told me that was essentially the effect of nerves after trauma. Mom refused to leave Wyatt's side, so Dad sat with her, and I went with Amber to the waiting room, and we tried to rest.  About 7:30 CST Dad came in and said that blood had come out the hole where the monitor was. He hoped that meant the pressure had finally come up, and maybe he would start improving from then on. We all agreed, holding on to any hope we could see.  I realize now, that most likely was the moment he died, and his body stopped fighting the drug they were giving him, so his blood pressure shot way up, and caused it to come out the hole.
 We all went and stood around his bed, waiting for the doctor to come do a test to see if there was any brain activity. Wyatt's legs weren't moving anymore. When the doctor got there, everyone left the room, but I chose to stay. I didn't want to risk them pronouncing him "brain dead" if there was any chance something could be done.

 The doctor started the test.  He touched a cloth to Wyatt's eyes, to see if he would flinch. Then he shined a light directly in his eyes to see if they would dilate or if he would blink.    Wyatt used to put a flashlight to my eye, and if I blinked, I lost, and he would try it too. He always won.  We used to stand in the back yard and stare wide-eyed into the sun, and the first one to blink, lost.   As I stood watching the doctor shine a light in his eyes, I wanted to shout "This isn't a contest! Just blink already!" - but nothing happened.
 The doctor then said he had other tests to try, but needed a completely sterile environment, so I had to leave the room.

 About 11 AM CST the doctor came to us in the waiting room and said they declared him "Brain Dead", and they were going to unplug him.  We asked for more time, a second opinion, anything. The doctor agreed to give us until noon MDT. I said that, if it was God's will for Wyatt to go, no machine could keep him here, but if it was His will for him to stay, he would keep breathing without the machine.
 I knew he was gone. But I didn't want to admit it to myself. I watched them do the test. I knew what the monitors were saying - but I didn't want to believe it.  We were still hoping and praying for a miracle.
 I had asked how to read the monitor on the respirator.  When they came to unplug him, my eyes were glued on that monitor - any indicator that he was breathing on his own, I wasn't going to miss it. The doctor had agreed, if he took even one breath on his own, they put him back on it. At least once, I was sure it registered a breath, and I yelled that he was breathing - but my mind had tricked me, there was nothing.

 Once they unplugged him, everyone was all standing around praying over him. I was at the foot end of the bed, where I could see all of the monitors.  I stood there, holding his toes (Mom and Dad were holding his hands), watching his heart rate and blood pressure rapidly drop well below lethal levels - not sure if I was praying, or just wishing really hard, that they would go up... just frozen to the spot, not wanting to watch, but unable to move... flat line is the worst sound in the whole world.
 It was then that I regretted becoming a CNA. Because I knew enough to read the monitors and know what was going on - but not enough to be able to do anything. All I could do was watch my brother die.

 When it was all over, and we had to leave the room - I realized, I had been so focused on the monitors, and hoping for a miracle, that I hadn't told him that I love him, or said goodbye.   I turned back to say goodbye, and in my head I heard his voice, when he was getting on the bus "I hate goodbyes. It seems too final. I prefer 'see you later'."   He was right.  I couldn't say goodbye. It was too final.  I just gave him one last hug, and under my breath, said "see you later".

 When I think about it, I can still feel his coarse whiskers on my cheek.

 Leaving the hospital without him was one of the hardest things I've ever done. The only thing that was worse, was seeing him being lowered into a hole, and knowing we would never see his face again. Never hear him laugh or see him smile. We had hugged him for the last time.

 The first night without him - it didn't seem real. It was like a really bad dream, and we were hoping we'd wake up soon.  It felt so wrong - we were all crying harder than we knew was humanly possible, and for the first time - he wasn't there to hug us and make it better.   He was the comforter in the family.  Any time anyone was sad, he'd be draped over them with his sticky hugs, and comforting us. This time he wasn't there - and never would be again.  It just felt so wrong....

 Even though I firmly believe in God's sovereignty over all things. I know the Bible says it is "appointed unto man once to die...".  I still, at times, struggle with the thought that I essentially killed him, by not stopping them from unplugging him.
 I know better. But the thought still creeps in from time to time.

 While Wyatt was staying with us last summer, we would listen to various music, and he told me that one of his favorite songs was "Soar", by Buddy Davis.  That song was such an encouragement to him after all that the family had been through.  We decided to play that song at his funeral.
 The day of his accident, at work, I had Ron Hamilton's song "Wings as Eagles" stuck in my head.
 At the grave side, there were four eagles soaring over head.
 That's why there's an eagle on his headstone, Isaiah 40:31, and a line from Davis' song "When the storms of life awaken ~ Soar".

 Wyatt was such a caring, giving person.  He never had much - but what he had, he shared with, or gave to others. The most meaningful gift he ever gave us was his time.  

 I came across a song by Paul Brandt called "Give it Away" ~

Ready or not

Take your best shot 'cause here life comes

You use what you got, and you got it all when you've got love

But we hide it and we store it up, and there never seems to be enough.

This world is spinning so fast, ain't no slowing it down

And there ain't a lot that lasts

But I think I've found a way to make it stay

You've got to give it away.

Talk about time

And it's flown away before you're done.

And money is fine, but one day its here and next its gone.

So love is looking like a sure bet,

'cause the more you give, the more you get.

Oh this world is spinning so fast,

Ain't no slowing it down.

And there ain't a lot that lasts, 

But I think I've found a way to make love stay

Oh and someday everybody dies

But not everybody really lives.

And when it's my turn to say goodbye,

I don't want nothing left to give.

This world is spinning so fast

Ain't no slowing it down now,

And there ain't a lot that lasts,

But I think I've found it

Oh this world is spinning so fast

There ain't no slowing it down.

And there ain't a lot that lasts,

But I think I've found a way to make it stay -

You've got to give it away.

 When it was Wyatt's time to go - he loved us so well, he had "nothing left to give". 

 I alternate between mourning that he was "taken too early", and being thankful for the time he was given to us. 

 If there's one thing Wyatt left as his legacy, it would be his servants heart (along with his interesting sense of humor *grins*). 

 He was quick to serve. Always gave the benefit of the doubt. Rarely judged anyone for disagreeing, but tried to see their point of view. He had big ideas and outlandish dreams - but he payed close attention to detail, and nothing was too insignificant a task. He put the same care into sweeping a floor as he did designing a blueprint.  He made toddlers feel as important as the grown-ups.  He didn't think it was girly to cuddle a baby for hours, or cook for the family - but he wouldn't hesitate to patch your roof or mow your lawn. 

 He was a deep thinker - but could turn silly without warning. Even his silliness was deeply thought out. *laughs*   He could solve the toughest problems, and turn the littlest thing into a joke.  He loved to play with words. Whether it was rearranging them to be funny, or mangling the word itself. Nothing was off limits. Everything you said could, and would be twisted or taken a different direction than you intended - just to prove it could be done. 

 Since last summer, I've noticed my sense of humor has morphed into a form of his.  I don't want to see his sense of humor die.  If there's anything he did that rubs off - I want it to be his servants heart, and ruthless logic.  He was so logical it made me mad sometimes.  Not because he was wrong, but because it showed up how illogical I can be. 

 All growing up, he would get upset that I wanted to do the same things he was doing. After all, he was four years older, and he should get to do it first. 

 All last summer, he kept talking about wanting to go home. He wasn't anxious to die. He just wanted a place to call home. He wanted a proper house, that actually had running water and working plumbing. One that he didn't have to worry about how long he could stay - it would be his, and he could stay forever.  

 I know. He doesn't have to get anything ready there for us - but that's the kind of person he was. He'd want to go first, to make sure everything was ready for us. It's only fitting he should go first. After all, he's the oldest.

 I don't know how to write a proper tribute to him.  He was always mangling words - yet, I can't find the right ones to do him justice. 

 One thing is certain: when God invented biological brothers - He gave me the best one.  I have the two best brothers ever imagined. One biological, one "adopted".  Both are missed more than words can ever express. 

These two are mine. Always will be 💙💙

Dear Brothers - an apology

 There are many men I count as my brothers.  Many of whom I was close to at one time, but now we've gone our separate ways, whether through death, or just the circumstances of life.

 I've failed all of you. So badly, I've failed you.

 Years ago I made a special point to see to it you got regular, sound, encouragement.   I could see some of the things you were up against out in the world, and I wanted you to know that someone was praying, someone was there when you needed.

 As many of you began to drift off into a different path in life, and we gradually lost contact, I stopped trying to encourage you.  Oh, I kept praying. I'll never stop praying for you - but I failed to reach out and encourage you.

 Now I've experienced some of the things you face in the world, and even though God has sent dear friends along the way, I've faced a fair portion of it alone. It's a lot. And eventually, not at all meaning to, I began to give in to the pressure.

 I saw the great need for godly young women. There aren't many that are making a conscious effort any more, and now it seems the ones that were, are falling away.  I wanted to be the girl that kept the faith, kept fighting no matter what, and stayed true.  I haven't done that. 
 I've begun to compromise a lot... I'm not so staunch as I used to be.  And I'm not "there" like I used to be.

 There was a time when I viewed every trial as a gift from God as a means of drawing me closer to Himself.   Even the really hard stuff - like losing some of my dearest friends, and my family practically being homeless.
 The last several years, as the homelessness dragged on, tensions grew, our little guy was taken away, and finally, death came to our door - I did and do, feel so alone, I've neglected reaching out to others.  I used to reach through my pain to help others in theirs; now I hide in it.

 I've neglected reaching out to you because many have fallen out of contact, and I totally spaced off the fact that some of you may still read this. Even if it's not a personal note - maybe somehow you'll see it.

 I've talked much in the past about becoming a Proverbs 31 woman, and how that's the best way to encourage the men around me. I still believe that, probably more so now, than before.  But I've failed on that head.   I've allowed myself to become bitter and cynical, sarcastic and rude. Not speaking in love, not lending a listening ear, or a helping hand, but instead showing a hard heart and offering bitter words.
 I've become a hypocrite in the highest degree.

 I don't deserve forgiveness for falling short - which happened rather willfully, since I didn't hardly resist worth mentioning.  But if by some chance, I could have another go at it, with God's help, I mean not to let you down again.

 Brothers are so special.  Easily taken for granted until suddenly you don't have them anymore. 
 There are many sweet, godly women in my life who I am most grateful for - but up till now, I think some of the greatest lessons God ever taught me came through my brothers, real or "adopted". 

 I stumbled upon some old communications with "brothers", every one of them made me laugh and cry in turn.  Every one of them, whether a serious communication, or some silly joke, meant the world to me, and still does.   You men have no idea how much you are loved. You may never know.  Just, please, don't mistake silence for not caring.
 Please, never give up on what God has called you to. I don't care how hard or impossible it looks right now - never give up on God's call. He gave it to you for a purpose, now go out and do it how only you can do. Go out and own it.
 And always remember, even when you feel forgotten, there's at least one person praying for you daily.

 Joshua 1:9
     Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a god courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

 Philippians 1:3-6
     I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making request with joy, for your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now; being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:

Why I Left Home - And Other Things I Never Explained

 I grew up very Patriarchal, which I think is fairly clear from previous posts. 

 Much of what I've said on here in the past, I no longer hold to - not simply because I "don't like it anymore" or "changed my mind", but because a lot of it is wrong. Biblically.
 Since I started this blog, I've changed on a lot of things - and those changes have been very hard. They have opened a whole new world - and closed one. Much has been gained, but much has been lost.   The changes I made were a long time coming, and very hard to do - it wasn't a "snap decision" or done on a whim.  If that's all it was, it wouldn't have been worth it, and I never would have done it.

 I'm writing this because I feel I've cheated some of you.  In the past I've been very open about lessons God was teaching me, and freely published them on here.  When the big, hard(er) changes started, I didn't know how it would be taken, so I said nothing. Most of you didn't find out anything was in the works until after it was done, and even then, I never explained it to you, thus making it seem trivial when it's not.

 On September 7th, 2014 I left my fathers house, and struck out on my own.   Not because I wanted a change or was feeling restless.  By NO means was my Dad abusive or mean to me.

 In the fall of 2011 I began being introduced to ideas I had never heard before - ideas that went totally against what I had always been taught.  Things like Predestination. That was the main one. I had never heard of it before, and I set out to prove those people wrong.  In the process I proved myself wrong, and found scores of others things I had been wrong on, because they simply weren't in the Bible - at all, let alone how I had believed.

 Over the next few years I did a lot of in depth study, and had many conversations with family and friends, and as time went on, my views changed.  I had to change to be in agreement with Scripture.
 Many of the changes I had to make, my immediate family didn't agree with, and tensions began to grow. But being a staunch advocate for Patriarchy, I knew the answer was to keep still, "honor" my father by not arguing the matter, and don't say anything to let on that there was a problem. 

 Up until the end of July of 2014, that's what I did.  Tensions were continually mounting, but I couldn't say anything outside the family, because, of course, that would be dishonoring to my father, and I would be a rebellious daughter. Not to mention, it would go against just about everything I'd been talking about on my blog all that time.  Honestly, everything I had been saying on here about women's/daughters responsibility, was mainly trying to talk myself into it.  I fully believed that was right, but was finding it more and more difficult to do. Not because I didn't want to - nobody wanted it to work more than I did - but because doctrinal differences were making it next to impossible.

 For two years I had been verbally and emotionally beating myself over what I believed to be rebellion, and seriously thinking I was mentally unstable.   If I was reading my Bible right, how come I couldn't make them see it that way? If they were right, how come I couldn't find it in the Bible? Maybe I wasn't capable of understanding God's Word on my own. Maybe nobody could really know what the Bible said without others to interpret it for them.  I seriously thought I was losing my mind.

 Background: At this point in my life, we were living on a ranch 20 minutes from the nearest town. I played piano at the nearest church (ten miles away), but the sermons were very shallow, and often based on misconstrued facts.  There was no opportunity for growth or spiritual development there.

 Because of choices my Dad made, we were soon without transportation, relying on the kindness of friends who would drive two hours round trip to take us where we needed to go. That made it nearly impossible to attend church at all.
 We then moved to a different ranch which was 30 miles from the nearest town, and this time not only could we not travel legally, but we also seldom had a car that worked. Still totally reliant on our friends for transportation, but now further out than before, causing greater hardship on them.

 I wanted to get a job to help the family, but we all (although I was changing on it) believed women belong at home, and thus I was not the one to be getting a job - but at the same time, it was decided, by the other members of the family, that getting an outside job wasn't something any of us should do. That God would provide our needs with, or without a job, and thus having jobs would only be a waste, and take away time we needed for other things.

 God began convicting me on Hebrews 10:25, forsaking not the assembling of ourselves together.  When I brought that up to the family, the response I got was basically, "where two or three are gathered, there am I in the midst" (Matthew 18:20), which means every time we were together as a family, we were having church, and therefore didn't *need* to attend a church of any kind, although if one can, that's great. Nothing against going to church, it just isn't necessary. I couldn't go with that. That was a misinterpretation, and I couldn't reconcile it.

 Being isolated as we were out there, our family became very closed-circuited. There was very little outside influence, so any interpretation of scripture became a valid one, because no one was there to question or admonish.
 They began listening to preachers online that labeled themselves as "an expert in the mystic realms of God".  These guys were very deeply into spiritualism, and focused more on angels than they did on God Himself.    Whenever I questioned the sanity of listening to these people, I was met with the argument that, since I wasn't personally listening to every lecture, I couldn't possibly find fault with them.
 At that time, I began to pull inside. I didn't talk to my friends (all of whom were online, since I couldn't go anywhere) about any of this.  We continued to hash out what we believed and why, but I never mentioned this mental turmoil I was in, because I had convinced myself it was rebellion, and I had to kill it.

 In July of 2014 I rode to Iowa with some friends, and visited my Grandma and Uncle. During that visit, I saw just how much they needed someone there to help them. They both had various health issues that put them in a position of needing an extra hand once in a while, and it only made sense for one of us to move in with them, and be there full time. 
 With the growing tensions at home, I volunteered to be the one to move.  I saw it as a way to fulfil responsibility, and remove myself from the unpleasant situation at home.
 That was the first time I even thought about leaving home, and even then, the plan was to stay under Dad's authority, and in the event something should happen to relieve the responsibility in Iowa or other arrangements be made, I would return home.

 At the end of July I began posing the question to Dad if I could go be with my Grandma and Uncle, pointing out that someone needed to go, and I seemed to be the only one really in a position to be able to go. 
 What I thought was a simple question that would required a simple response turned into an unforeseen, and rapid escalation of tension.

 I had learned over the past few years leading up to this point, that it was best to avoid the topic of doctrine altogether, as it was a sore spot for all of us, and only caused fights. But Dad's stance on drivers license and insurance was also a sore spot, as I was the only one that didn't support it fully.  I didn't have a license, but they knew I had no problem with getting one, and that didn't sit well with the rest of the family.

 When I asked about moving to Iowa, even temporarily - I was suddenly accused of wanting to leave home because I thought they were all "heretics" and "breaking the law".  It got so bad, I would come in the house after taking a walk, not say a word, just start in with some chore, and one of them would start accusing - and eventually I would attempt to defend myself, and it would blow up from there.

 I have the best family in the world. I wouldn't trade them for anything. It was the hardest decision I ever made, to leave home. They are not bad people by any stretch.  Those of you who know them will agree with that.   But isolation and extreme tension does things to people, and we all reached our breaking point.
 At that time I still hadn't said anything to my friends. I still thought I wasn't capable of understanding scripture for myself, or there wouldn't be this kind of disagreement.
 After my mild, sweet brother began the accusations, I cracked.  He wasn't the kind to argue. He was the peacemaker in our house. Any time there was the slightest disagreement, he would try to see both sides, and help solve the differences.   When he began accusing instead of trying set things straight, I couldn't take any more.

 Up to this point, all the changes I had been making, were being blamed on my "online friends", because I agreed with the family until I had met those people.  They were seen as troublemakers, and often accused of causing our family problems. 
 One day I had had enough, and deleted my account.   One of the girls noticed, and began questioning me as to why I had done that. I finally broke down and told her what was going on.  This was the first of August 2014.
 She and I talked a great deal all that month. I was put in touch with various church leaders I could ask council of.   Council was asked, plans were made, and I still didn't want to move. I still thought it was rebellious for me to leave home.  One day she challenged me to show her where in scripture it says a girl can't leave home until she is married.  I couldn't find it anywhere. Not even in principle or the slightest hint.  It just isn't there.

 One day as I was still wrestling over if I should leave or not; we were having family Bible time. Someone made a comment on how I always interpret things differently than the rest of them, and that's why I wanted to leave home, and get away from the "heretics".  That hadn't been our topic of conversation, so I was rather surprised at it. As the conversation continued, Dad said something that indicated fathers are responsible for what their children believe. I said "no, fathers are responsible for what they teach their children, the children are responsible for their own beliefs."  Dad got kind of angry and said "I am responsible for what you believe. And you're believing wrong."
 That did it.

 I went straight to the computer, and told the guys that I had had on "standby" for a week that they needed to come as soon as possible.    There was never going to be any end to tension as long as it was believed I was not the master of my own conscience.

 I never left from the attitude of "Smash the Patriarchy" or "Women's Rights".  I left because I believe the Bible teaches each person is responsible to know what God's Word says, and to live life accordingly. If that is not allowed, then it's time to relocate to where it is possible.    No one can govern your conscience but you. No matter how dear a figure - such as a father - they have no say over your conscience, and cannot force you to live according to theirs.

 I did not leave because I hate my family or because they were abusive.
 I did not leave because I needed a change of scenery.
 I did not leave because I believed Patriarchy was to be abolished (although there is a ton wrong with it as a whole, and it's not being taught the way it's outlined in Scripture).

 I left because I believe I am the one that has to answer to God for my actions, not my father.
 I left for religious freedom.

 Since I left home, I never told many of my online bunch that I had, and I've explained my reasons to very few people, simply because I thought it would bring shame on my family if I did tell.  The only explanation I offered for a very long time, was that my Grandma and Uncle needed someone here with them, and I was the one most available to come.   Just in the last year I've started telling people the real reason.
 Not because I want to make my family look bad - but because I see other girls leaving home because "smash the patriarchy" and all that. I see others have a partial idea of what happened, and it's being misinterpreted.

 I don't want my story to be license for other girls to rush off and leave home foolishly.  If there is no problem with staying at home, by all means, do it.  There is nothing sweeter in your single years, than being a stay at home daughter.  I often wish I could go back to it. There's so much to be learned from it.  But being a stay at home daughter should never be something to hide behind in order to avoid personal responsibility - that's what it was for me.  As long as I believed a girl is *subject* to her father on all levels while she is home, I didn't *have* to take responsibility for my own beliefs and actions.  Never use your time at home as a cop-out. But don't throw it away just because you have the freedom to do what you want.   Choose wisely, seek council, and pray incessantly.  Freedom is a gift from God to be stewarded, not squandered.

 Hopefully that explains things sufficiently.

Faith... Looks Different Than I Thought

 We've all heard "faith steps out on the water": but what if it takes faith to stay in the boat.....?

 Peter was called out on the water - none of the others were.  We're not all a Peter. God didn't call the others out - because He had a reason for them to stay on the boat.
 What would have happened if when God called Peter to walk on the water, everyone stepped out?   They weren't called - they very possibly would have sunk.

 Could we sometimes be guilty of claiming someone else's calling, and wondering why it doesn't work for us....? 
 God is under no obligation to support us in something He's called someone else to do.  He calls each of us differently.

 Conversely; we see God on the "water", we know that's where we need to be, so just jump out before He calls.  Would we not sink then?  Not because it's not right to "step out", but because it's the wrong time.

 I get antsy. I want to move ahead with my life, and do what I know is my calling, and so I dive in - expecting God will pull me out if I sink. But it's not His timing. He hasn't said "come" yet.

 What if, instead of jumping out and running across the waves to Christ, faith means staying in the boat and trusting He won't let it sink. Serving Him quietly on the ship, trusting He put you there for a reason.

 Faith is hard: in, or out, of the boat.

Thoughts on Thoughts

 I've noticed lately, that I'm far more serious online, or in writing than I am in person.  In struggling over this inconsistency in my behaviour, I've been trying to really pin down the reason behind it.  I've finally found the answer.

 In writing, my words are just that. Words.  My thoughts are taken at face value, for what they are; even valued more. 

 In person: you can see my face. You can hear my voice. And that terrifies me - for one reason: In person, my thoughts aren't taken at face value - they are now run though the "Fat Filter". 

 The "Fat Filter" is simply preconceived notions about overweight people.  The (usually) unspoken idea that "fat people are lazy", "fat people are only concerned about food" - and therefore, we are seen as "abnormal" or less than desirable. 

 Before you go into the whole spiel on how "that's not true", "I don't think that way" - let me say this: I run into this mindset everywhere I go.  Many are not consciously aware they are doing it, but they are just the same. 

  I am far less serious in person because, even when the person being addressed is smiling, and agreeing with what is being said - their eyes are scanning up and down, head to toe; and you can see them begin to judge your words based on your shape and size. 

 Lately I've been hearing a lot of "You're always so calm, but you seem to have a lot going on", or "You're always smiling; I wouldn't deal with things so well if it was me."   

 Honestly.  It's a defense.  

 Fat people are seen as wimps. Cry-babies. Over sensitive.  I've been seen that way my whole life.  So, in a defense against that kind of thinking, I've learned to shut off all emotions that aren't "happy". 

 I've been told that because I'm "fat and ugly" no guy is ever going to want me. So, I've trained myself to "hate" anything remotely romantic.  I've trained myself to see all guys as brothers so that I can't be hurt when they marry someone prettier than me; so they won't be embarrassed by me liking them.   Because as a "fat person" I have no right to hope someone could love me like that. 

 In trying to seem disinterested, I've become very cynical.   My defense didn't keep me from getting hurt. It still hurts horribly when guys I like just walk out of my life for seemingly no reason.   All I've accomplished is annoying other people, and adding to my own hurt.

 I've shut off all emotions to the point where the only "emotion" I can show is "happy" or "cheerful".  I can't allow myself to be bothered by things, because that's being "weak" and "over sensitive", so I laugh everything off as if it's really no big deal. 

 I've been rejected so many times - because I'm fat (for all I know), that now I'm terrified of expressing my thoughts on anything serious - in person - because I'm afraid of further rejection. 

 Behind all the smiles and giggles is a finely shredded heart that quivers at every glance from other people: but fat people are seen as over sensitive, so I hide behind smiles in an effort to shake off the affects of such thinking.  

 I guess my point here is: let's get over stereotypes. Let's accept that All people are created equal: even fat ones.  

 Now that I've explained myself.  Rant over.

Dominion, Femininity, and the Workplace

 Everyday life.  It can be a drain. It can get discouraging.  So many big plans for the future - so much to do - but no way to get there....

 How does one climb stairs?  Duh. One step at a time.
 How does one achieve future goals?  Let's try one step at a time...

 Goals vary depending on who you talk to, so herein I intend to focus on The goal: Fulfilling the Dominion Mandate.

 What does the Dominion Mandate look like in terms of everyday life?  What are things we can do here, now, that will bring us closer to the larger goal?

  I was (as I'm sure many of you were as well) raised to believe that young women don't belong in the workplace.  While I firmly believe a woman's first responsibility is the cultivation of her own home, there are times when we find ourselves in the workforce - whether out of necessity, or whatever other reason one may have.   Thus raising the question: How does a young lady fulfil the Dominion Mandate in the workplace, in a decidedly feminine manner?

 This brings us back to Proverbs 31: What is the mark of a virtuous woman, and how can it be applied in the workplace?

 First: "She... worketh willingly with her hands."  She's a diligent, hard worker. The application here is pretty obvious...
 Interesting to note here: Verse 14 "she bringeth her food from afar." which would imply she leaves home, and is (at least in part) the breadwinner.

 Second: "She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens."  This may be a stretch - but I believe it is still applicable: A virtuous woman cares for others before herself. Not just her own household, but others around her - unrelated, coworkers. I don't think this can be applied only to physical nourishment, but to spiritual as well.  Making sure those around her are fed spiritually. Edified, encouraged, uplifted.

 Third: "She considereth a field and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard."   Possibly a stretch here as well - but still worth considering.  When we speak of the Gospel, we call it "sowing seed", as a result of sowing that seed, the Fruit of the Spirit grows. Seed has to be planted in the ground - a field - and we're made of dirt, so.... could it be that we are to sow the seed of the Gospel in the workplace, and help to cultivate (encourage) the ground (person) in which it was planted?  Just a thought...

 Fourth: "She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night."  No "merchandise" (work) will be perceived as good, unless it is done right, and done well. We are always to be pursuing excellence in all that we do - including in the workplace. As a friend once said "Excellence is the journey, not the destination."

 Fifth: "She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple."  Tapestry, silk, and purple were often associated with royalty, because typically they were the ones that could afford it.  As Daughters of The King, we are royalty. Are we dressing in a manner befitting daughters of The King? Clothing is not just physical covering, it is also spiritual adornment. Are we "clothed with righteousness"? (Isaiah 61:10)   Purity, honor, integrity, wisdom. These are all part of spiritual adornment.  "Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come." "She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."

 Sixth: "She... eateth not the bread of idleness." She isn't lazy, or slothful. She's alert, diligent, and industrious. Always on the move. Always doing something worthwhile.  "Boredom" is not in her vocabulary.

 Seventh: "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." This is not about earning praise, but rather living in a way that every thought, word, and action bring glory to God - then, and only then will you be praised. "Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates."

 We often hold Proverbs 31 up as the model for homemakers - but it's also our model in the workplace.  The Dominion Mandate extends to all situations and circumstances.  Proverbs 31 is the standard for biblical femininity, and is the story of a woman whose life was purposed, and lived to glorify God in all she did - in and out of the home.

 One thing worthy of note here - her home was the center of all her operations. The home is still our "domain" as women. It's the launching pad for every other occupation we are engaged in.

Starting Over

 So it's been a while since I've done anything with my blog... life. Life happened.

 Another year has passed, and a new one is right around the corner. I hate "new year's resolutions" because it seems they only last a month or so and that's the end of them. For the most part they are pretty impossible anyway.
 This year however, I am making an attempt at setting achievable goals. I wouldn't do it at the beginning of the new year... but you know, there's no time like the present... and that happens to be the beginning of a new year. So here goes. (y'all are most certainly welcome to join in on any/all of these)

 Let's begin with Attitude:

 Psalm 118:24 says "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
 Notice, it doesn't say "we should rejoice and be glad", it says "we will rejoice". That's not future, and it's not dependent upon circumstances. It's present tense, and simply because this is the day the Lord has made, and we have no reason not to rejoice.

 What does it mean to rejoice?  Is rejoicing being giddy and silly, denying that there's anything bad in this world, and that things go wrong? I think not.  It's not a state of denial, but rather always choosing to give thanks to the Almighty, Who saw fit to give us life here and now - and for a purpose (mostly) unknown to us.

 According to Webster, Rejoice means: "To experience joy and gladness in a high degree; to be exhilarated with lively and pleasurable sensations; to exult."

 How do we "experience joy" when it seems everything is crashing down around us?
 Even when things are not the ideal - or even remotely "okay" let alone "ideal", there is one reason to always rejoice: God and His salvation of us wretched sinners (Habakkuk 3:18 Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation). He didn't have to save any of us - but He chose to. How then can we not rejoice?

 Part of rejoicing is being thankful.  So what if we started each day by finding five things to be thankful for. They can be the same things every day - just so long as there is a real thankful heart behind that list.  Ideally, the list will be different every day.  Stretch yourself, find things to be thankful for. If nothing good comes to mind, find ways to be thankful for/in the things you're not particularly happy about, because Paul said: "...we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose."

 Along with rejoicing, we have learning to put others ahead of self. This is what Christ did when He died on the cross to save others, and as we are to follow in His footsteps, I believe this is something worthy of our focus.

 What if each day we chose five people, and pray for them that day. If you don't know what to pray for them, try asking; I'm sure they'd know a few things they could use prayer for.

 Next, we have Fitness:

 Aside from altering my attitude, it wouldn't be so bad to alter my shape. *giggles*

 What if each day began like this:
 List five things for which we are thankful - and for each thing do a push-up.
 Pray for five people every morning. While praying for the first, do jumping-jacks. For the second, do crunches. Third, stretch. Fourth, run in place. Fifth, bounce on a rebounder.

 For the first month try cutting out all grains, and processed sugar.  After that, of course re-introduce them - in moderation.

 Finally Mental Health:

 Proverbs 1:7 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

 Start each morning by reading as many chapters of the Bible as fits your needs/schedule, then read one chapter from any good, educational book.
 Every evening before bed, read a chapter of Psalms, or Proverbs, and if time permits, one chapter of your favorite book of any genre.   Challenge your mind.  If necessary, write a book report when you finish, just to help retain what you learned.  Or, even, keep as journal as you read, and jot down the things that stand out to you most, or things you want to remember later. Writing helps to retain any knowledge gained.

 I guess that's about it.  Those are my main areas of focus this year, and easily attainable, realistic goals.

 What are your goals for the coming year? What are things you need done for the future that you can start today?

It's a Heart Issue

 So we all know that Proverbs 31 is the ultimate model for women to look to in regards to biblical womanhood, right?
 I'm here to tell you - it's one thing to read it, and quite another to live it.

 Being raised conservative by conservative parents, in a conservative church, with conservative friends, you'd think it wouldn't be hard for me live it, right? I mean, I've been immersed in that sort of "culture" all my life, so it should be second nature, right?

 Not by a long shot.

 It's one thing to believe something, and another to actually live what you believe.   Something I've been failing miserably at.

 I read the passage in Proverbs 31 and see just how far I have to go before being anything remotely like her.   But what strikes me about it is; she's always doing - and I think of the things she does as being what a virtuous woman is made of.
 But what of the thoughts behind it all?   Surely these actions originated as thoughts?

 Growing up with/around people who held to a high standard (modesty, speech, intellectual etc.) it seemed so normal to find a P31 woman.
 Now, being away from the culture in which I was raised, and living in "the world", it's nigh impossible to find a virtuous woman.   Not just with her actions - there's quite of few of them (thankfully) - but in word and thought.

 In today's culture it has become acceptable to "live like hell" just so long as certain people don't know about it.  Or act like a virtuous woman, but not guard your heart or mind.    I've fallen into that trap.  
 Just recently I've found myself thinking horrible thoughts, liking ungodly things, spouting idiotic things, and thinking this is totally acceptable - just so long as I don't act on them.     I've never been so wrong in my life.

 Virtue is not an outward thing. Not something we wear around certain people, but "slack off" certain standards when around other people.
 Virtue is a condition of the heart.   And the outward manifestation is just that - a manifestation of what's in the heart.
 You can't "keep up appearances" if the heart isn't right.   That's just hypocrisy.

 It's hard, not being (physically) surrounded by virtuous women that you can look to for encouragement and as an example.    Sure, there's women at a distance that can be in for accountability and as counselors/advisers - but it's really easy to fall in the pattern of dismissing a lot of what they say with the excuse of "They aren't here, or they'd see it different."

 It's shocking to find just how deeply you can fall into hypocrisy without realizing it at all.  Only to wake up one day to discover you're in over your head, and haven't the foggiest idea of how to get out.

 It's the "frog in the pot" problem.  Allowing certain influences in your life thinking (since you already know better) it's not going to have much if any effect on you..... only to find out months/years later, it had major effect on you, and now you've got a lot of sins to repent of, and wrongs to make right.

 If there's any one lesson I've been learning the most on this last year, it would be: I don't care how alone you are. Girls, don't ever go it alone.  Seek wise counsel of older women who have been there, or else have successfully avoided it themselves.

 "Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.   The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.   She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life."

 How are we supposed to do our future husbands good "all" our days, if we're not paying much attention until some guy comes along?

 I've fallen into the rut of thinking I can "work on other things" beside preparing to do my husband good all my days, because "there's no way anyone is going to want me anyway", so I've got "plenty of time" to "whip into shape".  
 It wasn't until the last few months when guys actually have shown interest, that I woke up to the sobering fact: I am nowhere near being a P31 woman, and actually, am probably farther from it now than I've ever been before.     That's a terrifying realization to have.  Especially when your goal is to be a witness to those around you..... and you suddenly see how much exactly the opposite is happening.

 Not only is it scary to realize that you are slipping into the world (quite rapidly), but also that you are influencing other girls around you. Especially considering that you may be the closest thing those girls ever get to a godly example of a virtuous woman.

 "Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.   She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."
 This is a result of a clean heart, not just good actions.

 "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised."


  That being said.  I would like to challenge every girl (even guys) I know, to memorize Proverbs 31 in the coming month of July.  It's just one verse every day.
 One verse every day: gaining rare, valuable wisdom for all of life.

 Don't just memorize it.  Live it.  
 Don't wait. Don't put it off for any reason.  
 Discipline yourself to learn faithfulness to God's word.    This is something I need to focus much attention on from now on, and I'd love it if y'all would do it with me.

Of perfection, mud, glory, blood and battles

 What is life but a race (Hebrews 12:1-2) and a battle (1 Timothy 6:12)?

 What happens in races and battles?    

•  Winning. 
•  Losing. 
•  Glory.
•  Humiliation.
•  Fame.
•  Shame.
•  Exhilaration.
•  Exhaustion. 
•  Faith.
•  Fear.

 And mud.

 I tend to see only the good things.  I see others winning, exercising faith, earning glory and fame. They're clean, and look the part of the winner.

 Me?  I'm exhausted, covered in shame, feeling humiliated when I see how much better they are.... Fearful of losing.   I fall in the mud time and time again.  Sometimes getting so discouraged I willfully throw myself in the mud, and start thinking about crawling back to the last mud puddle I fell in....
 When I've fallen, I see the others running past, in all their glory. There I sit in  all my mud, blood, and shame, and I don't think I can ever make it. There is no fixing it.    Perfection is remaining clean. I'm filthy. I'm bruised and bleeding. Mostly from self inflicted wounds.  How can I ever finish? 

 It's not about finishing in pristine condition. It's not about winning with all sorts of pomp, and glory.

 "When we feel the stirrings of the sinful nature raging in us, we ought to grasp the sword of the Spirit - that is, the Word of salvation. Then we will undoubtedly be victors, though we will feel the total opposite as long as the battle lasts."  ~  Martin Luther

  It's about finishing. 

"Rise to the occasion; do the thing. It does not matter how it hurts as long as it gives God the chance to manifest Himself in your mortal flesh." ~ Oswald Chambers

•  It's about enduring. 
• Not. Giving. Up. 
• It's about picking yourself up again. 
• Getting back in the race. 
• Getting back in the fight. 

 In the end, we're not rewarded for how "wrinkle free" our running suit is, or how shiny our armor is.  We're rewarded for our faithfulness. We're rewarded for overcoming.

 "God wants you to love Him with your whole heart and with all your strength. He knows your shortcomings. That is why He gave you His Spirit, who knows about the deep secrets of eternal love with which He desires to fill you." ~ Andrew Murray

"Jesus seeks fellowship with sinners and goes after them in boundless love." ~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer 

About Me (revised)

 So, the "about me" post is extremely outdated.
 Here's an attempt at bringing y'all up to speed. :)

 My life has changed drastically in the last year/year and a half.   Literally, nothing is the same.

 Currently I live with my grandmother, attempting to help her... but she's so active she helps me more than I help her. ;P  
 Living with her has been an experience. She's such a character, and full of fun stories of family history, and the towns we live in/near. She thinks she has nothing to offer since she's gotten older, but I'm constantly learning something from her.  She's been such a blessing.

 Since moving here I've been working in the local nursing home. The policy is not to talk about any of the residents, which is good, because each one of them is a book to themselves. ;)   I love working with them, and getting to visit with them.  Old people are a riot. :)

 Living in Iowa is very different from living in the Black Hills. It's very flat..... what people call "hills" here, are really only bunny humps. :P   I very much, miss my hills.

 In the last year I've been very blessed to have visited Alabama three times, and absolutely love it there!!!!  (There's HILLS!!!)  The people are the bestest. :D  Lord willing I'll move there one day.   (so you 'Bama people - brace yourselves)

 Good gracious. There is SO much to "update" y'all on, there's no way I'll ever get it all in one post.

 The main jist, I guess, is that God is steadily showing me how His kingdom extends to all areas of life, and how I can bring glory to Him, even in the mundane, everyday, nose-to-the-grindstone, living.

 So. the current "about me" is that I'm just a stubborn, thickheaded girl, learning to serve God in whatever situation I find myself in, and how to incorporate the future work I'm to do in my regular daily duties, right now.
 That may be simple and easy for all of you, but I'm too doggone stubborn to learn it all the first time around. (And yes, this is the bazillionth time I've gone around this bush :P)

 I'm not officially back to blogging, but do hope to post an occasional thought once in a while. (and believe me, there's a lot of them, if once I get them pinned down ;P)




         That's it for now.

               Hallie

Poem

 Still haven't named this, but will stick it here so it's easier to find back later.

 The first few words were running through my head, and as I began to write, the rest came to mind.  I'm not so good at putting thoughts and feelings into words, but this is about as close as I'll get.

The patter of little feet,
The touch of a little hand.
Child so small and sweet,
Formed by God's own hand.

Oh tiny babe with features fine,
Made with masterful design-
Planned and formed by God divine
How I wish that you were mine!

Where is this little child
Sent by God above?
Special treasure, manner mild-
Murdered, rejected, without love!

Who has done this?!
A helpless child killed!
Little face ne're knowing a kiss-
Innocent blood is spilled.

Tiny babe so cruelly scorned!
Priceless blessing, without a name;
Brutally taken - by no one mourned?
Sacrificed - for selfishness and fame. 

Innocent, lovely creature
Butchered, loved by none!
Cruel men have marred each feature- 
Would no one shield this little one? 

Not a cry was heard 
As this little life was ended.
Could no one spare a word? 
This child was undefended!

Precious child of clay,
The work of God's almighty hand:
Who ne're has seen the light of day-
Has now entered the promised land.

Lifeless hands, and lifeless feet-
Who could this deed have done?!
Oh what comfort, oh how sweet
To know you're cradled by God's Son!

How sweet to know those little feet
And tiny little hands,
Now run on golden streets
And are held by God's own hand!

Soldiers In The Battle

 In light of my last post, I thought it appropriate to give the background behind it, and in doing so it will explain several previous posts.

 Back in September of 2006, we were at some friends house taking part in their annual WWII reenactment.  We girls would send letters to the guys on the "battle field"(I believe that was the first year it was a two day event).

 That first day we wrote our letters, and Mr. D came to pick up our letters to the guys.   Most of the girls hadn't finished theirs yet, and I had, so I was wandering around looking for something to do when it suddenly came to mind "Your guy is out on the battle field today. You need to be praying for him."
 At first I thought "Ew, I don't like any of those guys as anything other than brothers, certainly I'm not going to marry one of them!"  After that I pushed it out of my head, because it was weird.

 Ever since that thought has haunted me.  It comes up at random times, and makes me think.   I know now it wasn't in reference to any of those guys that were there that day. (luckily for them *goofy grin*)
 But that random thought is so very true. True in the sense that our guys are on the "battle field" daily. They're on real battle fields.   As I've said in previous posts, the guys fight hard inner battles, and sometimes not just inner battles; those battles are very real in many ways, not only on the inside, but outside as well.

 That thought I had has haunted me all these years... I've often wondered why God put it in my mind in that way, but am beginning to see that it's probably because I'm such a warrior, and very interested in that sort of thing, so that's a way that would grab my attention most effectively. *wry smile*

 But just what does it mean? Why has that haunted me for so long when it's seemingly such a simple concept?
 I've pondered it a lot these eight years, and each time different aspects become more clear, but overall it's something I think we girls largely miss in our preoccupation with other things.

 It's been a while since I got off on this kick... but, reading about William Wallace I got into those battles... when I read a book, I become one of the characters in the story, be it history or fiction, I become a part of it. I think that has helped me to understand better what that random thought of mine means.
 
 Reading about Wallace, the battles those guys fought were tough, against overwhelming odds. At one point there were two hundred Scots going against two thousand English - but here's the kicker, the Scots had to climb a castle wall, jump down on the enemy, and rescue the Scottish captives inside the prison - in the dark. After hiking for miles, on foot, all the day before, and not getting much sleep before the attack.
 With those odds it was impossible for them to win.  But, there were women at home who were praying for their little army night and day.
 Guess what? They won that battle.

 There were many more battles like that with overwhelming odds - each time the Scots should have been whipped out. But there were women back home praying for them... and they won.

 Girls, our guys - not just husbands, but brothers, friends - are fighting real battles, and the only thing that will get them safely through those battles is God, and how often we just assume that He's helping them (which He is, don't get me wrong) but we aren't covering them in prayer as we ought.

 That thought has haunted me, because for years, I didn't realize the importance of prayer in the lives of our men.  When we neglect to pray for them, we are in essence, leaving them in the battle, against overwhelming odds - alone.
 Sure, men have single handedly won battles in the past... but they never (to my knowledge) came out without major wounds, that didn't have to be - if only they had had help.

 So yes, that thought haunts me... because I see many battle weary soldiers dying on the field, for lack of help - prayer. And it's my fault. It's your fault. Because we aren't (as a whole) covering them in prayer as we ought.

 It's been eight years of that thought haunting me, and the study that I've done because of it, that has resulted in the list I put in the last post.
 Those are essential things every man - every Christian - needs in order to win the battles the Almighty Captain has placed them in.

 Everyone, man or woman, needs those things to be effective in the individual battles that make up this Great Cause we are fighting for.
 Those things are the armor and weapons needed to fight the battles and win - and each battle won gets us closer to the Ultimate Victory in this Great Cause for our Almighty Captain.

What's Ahead?

 We as girls often wonder what the future holds, and, perhaps a slight bit silly... what our husbands will be like.
 Well, let me tell you, he'll be exactly what you take the time to pray for.   No way around that.

 This is a list of things I pray daily for whoever might one day be my husband; the more I prayed it for him, the more I came to realize all guys need someone praying these things for them, so I've begun to pray it daily for many of the young men I know.

 1) Blessing on any Kingdom work he is engaged in.
 2) Blessing on his work/job, that God would bless the work of his hands, and help him to enjoy the employment he find for the day.
 3) Provision for land/a place of his own that is conducive to the work God has called him to do.
 4) Wisdom in how to order his ways to honor God in all areas of life.
 5) Knowledge of how to please God, and do the work he is called to.
 6) Understanding of God's word, and it's application to all areas of life.
 7) Discretion in all things.
 8) Discernment between right and wrong - God's way and man's way.
 9) Peace in the midst of everything he is facing in his life, in his walk with the Lord.
 10) Contentment with where God has him, and what He has him doing.
 11) Humility, because no matter how low our self esteem, that's still something we all struggle with.
 12) Grace to do what God has called him to.
 13) Strength to do what is right, stand on God's word, and be the leader God intended for him to be.
 14) Courage to stand on God's word.
 15) Confidence in God's word and the calling God has placed on him.
 16) Boldness to speak the truth, and confront evil.
 17) Honesty when it would be easier to be deceptive in any given thing.
 18) Sobriety, to take God and His word seriously.
 19) Honor as a man of God.
 20) Integrity in a world where it is greatly lacking.
 21) Liberty to serve God, and lead/care for His family.
 22) Security. Not necessarily the kind we normally think of in regards to worldly things, but security in  the way God is leading him in.
 23) Love as is defined in 1 Corinthians 13.
 24) Joy even in the midst of trials and hardships.
 25) Patience in whatever trials, disagreements, etc, God has him in.
 26) Gentleness with God's creatures, and those He places in his care.
 27) Goodness to all, as human tendency is toward being bad.
 28) Kindness to all he has contact with.
 29) Mercy where it is right to be merciful.
 30) Truth, because at times it's easier to tell or believe a lie, than the truth.
 31) Much favor and good understanding in the sight of God and man. (Proverbs 3)
 32) Longsuffering.
 33) Meekness (which doesn't exactly mean what we've always assumed it did)
 34) Temperance.
 35) Faith in God and His word.

 And at the end of the list, (even when I was only praying it for my future husband) that I would be the friend and sister he/they need at this time in his/their life, and prepare me to be the friend/sister/wife they/he needs in the future.

 This is a list of things all men need, and not just for the future, but for here and now.   Who is praying for them if we aren't?   How many young men aren't being covered with the prayers of their future wife, but desperately need those prayers?   What harm could it do for you to pray for the young men you know?  Cover them with prayer as well.

 Can you think of anything that should be added to the list?

The Death of a Dream

 Joseph's story. (Genesis 37)

 Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colors.
 And when his brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him.
 Here we see that things were less than perfect for Joseph at home. I mean, having ten older brothers hating you, and never being nice isn't the ideal life, right? Add to that, he had a little brother that hated him as well.  His only consolation was that his father loved him a great deal at least - even if everyone else hated him. But even that couldn't change the fact that being hated by family is hard to live with.

 Think about it - If you were in his position, would you not wish for a way out? Would you not wish for things to be different? Of anyone, he had an excuse to be discontent.

 And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it his brethren: and they hated him yet the more.
 And he said unto them, Hear, I pray you, this dream which I have dreamed:
 For, behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and, lo, my sheaf arose, and also stood upright; and behold, your sheaves stood round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf.
 And his brethren said to him, Shalt thou indeed reign over us? or shalt thou indeed have dominion over us? And they hated him yet the more for his dreams, and for his words.
 He had this dream where things were better. Maybe he didn't fully understand the dream... but his brothers showed him respect in his dream, and that was a little ray of hope, a bright spot for him.  You know when something happens that hurts, and you can't do a thing about it - then something comes along, like a dream, and it gets you excited; you can't help but tell someone.  He did that... and was hated worse for it.  Imagine the let down that would have been.

 And he dreamed yet another dream, and told it his brethren, and said, Behold, I have dreamed a dream more; and, behold, the sun and the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to me. 
 Here he had another dream, nearly the same thing... surely this is from God! Surely this means something... the second is confirmation of the first.  He believes it is of God, and it does mean something - so he tells the others....

 And he told it to his father, and to his brethren: and his father rebuked him, and said unto him, What is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I and thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth?
 What a let down! Now his own father - the only one that loves him - is on to him for his dreams!  Talk about squelching what little hope he had.

 And his brethren envied him; but his father observed the saying.
 Now they actually believe it... but they're still angry with him.

 And his brethren went to feed their father's flock in Shechem. 
 And Israel said unto Joseph, Do not thy brethren feed the flock in Shechem? come, and I will send thee unto them. And he said to him, Here am I.
 And he said to him, Go, I pray thee, see whether it be well with thy brethren, and well with the flocks; and bring me word again. Se he sent him out of the vale of Hebron, and he came to Shechem.
 The astounding thing here... his brothers hate him: They never can say anything nice to him, they've already killed a whole city because they got upset about something, and now they're angry with him... and he willingly presents himself as a messenger to them?  That takes nerve.  Or, maybe it takes trust... in the God of his fathers.

 And a certain man found him, and, behold, he was wandering in the field: and the man asked him, saying, What seekest thou? 
 And he said, I seek my brethren: tell me, I pray thee, where they feed their flocks.
 And the man said, They are departed hence; for I heard them say, Let us go to Dothan. And Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in Dothan. 
 Here he displays courage, and faithfulness like few would. How easy would it have been for him to go home and say he couldn't find them?  They hated him. Why would he want to go find them?  But no, he remained faithful to the task his father gave him, and went the extra mile (or five) to do the errand he was sent to do, no matter how unpleasant it had the potential of being.

 And when they saw him afar off, even before he came near unto them, they conspired against him to slay him. 
 And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh. 
 Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, Some evil beast hath devoured him: and we shall see what will become of his dreams. 
 Ah, and here we have mans wickedness coming to the surface.  These guys heard the dreams Joseph had, and while they hated him, they knew these dreams meant something, and they believed them. So their solution to the "problem" - to keep from having to humble themselves and bow to their little brother - was to step in, take matters in their own hands, and try to thwart what God had planned.  That was their first mistake... and one that would cost them a great deal.

 And Reuben heard it, and he delivered him out of their hands; and said, Let us not kill him. 
 And Reuben said unto them, Shed no blood, but cast him into this pit that is in the wilderness, and lay no hand upon him; that he might rid him out of their hands, to deliver him to his father again.
 Reuben was the only one that spoke against killing him.  According to the verses prior to this, he also hated Joseph.
 Reuben, of all of them, had the most reason to hate him.
 You see, Reuben was the first born. He held the birth right.  Because Joseph was Jacob's favorite, he was given things the rest of them never got - things that Reuben had a right to.
 It would have been perfectly natural, and expected, for Reuben's voice to have been the loudest in saying to kill Joseph.  Why is he the one that said not to kill him?   One word. Providence.

 And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they stript Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colors that was on him; 
 And they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it.
 Joseph - who could have gone back to Jacob and said he couldn't find his brothers, and been perfectly justified, because he had done what was asked of him - choose to go the extra mile to find out how his brothers were to tell his father; because although most all of them had done things that greatly displeased their father, and brought a stigma on him, and although Joseph was his favorite, and they all hated him... Jacob still loved them. He still cared how they got along with their work, and if they were alright.  Joseph choose to go alone among those who hated him, because he loved his father, and wanted to ease his mind about the others.    Because he made this choice, he was humiliated, and treated badly.   He came to harm, knowing full well that could happen... because he loved and honored his father.   How many of us would go into potential danger for someone we love?
 And keep in mind - had his brothers killed him, as he knew they could have, his dreams wouldn't have come true.  By obeying his father, and going the extra mile - out of love - he risked not having his dreams fulfilled.

 And they sat down to eat bread: and they lifted up their eyes and looked, and, behold, a company of Ishmeelites came from Gilead with their camels bearing spicery and balm and myrrh, going to carry it down to Egypt. 
 And Judah said unto his brethren, What profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood? 
 Come, and let us sell him to the Ishmeelites, and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brethren were content. 
 They decide to sell him, and maybe rather than bring tons of guilt on themselves, they'll be rid of him while getting some profit by not committing the sin they originally intended... but they still persist in their sin.   But for the grace of God, they would have messed things up royally.  But God is all powerful, and merciful. He took even this, their greatest sin, that they meant for harm, and used it for good in spite of them.   And - He is the God of yesterday, today, and forever - He uses even our worst faults and sins for His purpose and the good of His Kingdom.

 Then there passed by Midianites merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmeelites for twenty pieces of silver: and they brought Joseph into Egypt.

 And the Midianites sold him into Egypt unto Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh's, and captain of the guard.

 Joseph went from being the favorite of a wealthy father - where there was a remote possibility of his dreams coming true - to being a slave in a foreign country, where it was impossible for his dreams to come true...
 As a slave in Egypt he would never see his family again. There was no way for the dreams to happen without the people that were in them there; and slavery is for life - there was no chance of it happening in the future.

 He was a slave, then a prisoner, for thirteen years... how many times in those thirteen years did he ask God "Why did you give me the dream/promise, if you never intended for it to happen?"   But as Isaiah 55:9 says... For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.  God had other plans.

 It wasn't until twenty years after the death of his dream, that he saw the fulfillment of it.

 Joseph had to die to those dreams (and dreams die hard) before God could do His greatest work.   And in the fulfillment of those dreams, the line of the Messiah was preserved.  Joseph never got to see the Messiah come - but God rewarded him for his faithfulness. You know how?   When Jacob blessed his sons before his passing... he gave Joseph the double portion.  Joseph was given a double inheritance.

 We can trust God with our all - because often times the death of a dream is the birth of a work so far above our understanding... but so much better than anything we could imagine. No matter how long it takes Him to do the work - it's worth the wait.