“…in a world where what we want
is only what we want
until it’s ours…”

What is contentment?

I like this last paragraph in an article by Camerin Courtney for the Singles issue of Chritianity Today:
“I’m beginning to realize true godly contentment looks more like Psalm 46:10 (NASB), “Cease striving and know that I am God.” Or in considering the ravens or the lilies (Luke 12:24-28)
and how God provides for them. Or in knowing that our fulfillment won’t
come through purchasing, acquiring, marrying, accomplishing, doing,
growing, impressing, or any other -ing than simply being. Being a child
of God. Being in his presence. Being lost in his love and guided by his
unique purpose for our life. If only we’d learn that art of being, I
think we’d finally be on our way to contentment—whether or not
there’s a motorcycle in our driveway, whiter teeth in our mouth, or a
spouse at our side.”

This weather is perfect.  Exactly what fall should be.  Dad says October is when God comes to Houston.

BTW, that pic is me dipping my feet in one of the fountains in the
courtyard of the Louvre the day before my birthday.  Now that is a
good memory.

Gracie pulled up on Monday.  She wanted Steph to hold her. 
She did it again on the fireplace yesterday.  I knew she’d start
doing it soon, but it made me want to cry.  She’s growing up too
fast!!  The hardest thing is not being able to praise her for it
(or not being sure if we should) since we really don’t want her
standing yet.  Her knees hyper-extend still, and until we get her
leg muscles built up to keep that from happening, she shouldn’t be
standing.  So we point and whisper to each other, and try to act
like nothing special happened while we distract her and make her sit
back down.  She really needs to be crawling and creeping
(hands-and-knees) a lot more.  Oh, Gracie-bug…

Last week my six-year-old sister painted my toenails for me.  I’m
just now getting to where I’m not shocked when I see my feet. 
*grin*

Half our neighborhood had a blackout yesterday from the storm. 
Did anyone else get hail???  It was huge!  My brother picked
up a piece that was at least an inch long and a half-inch across. 
I started to worry about Dad’s car (it’s still kind of new). 
Watching the front come in was great.  I’m not sure Gracie liked
it, but I hugged her and laughed so she’d know it was good.  No
electricity is not good, however, and Dad took us out to eat since we
couldn’t cook and we were all miserable from trying to peer at each
other in the semi-dark. 

I had the best weekend watching Gracie during a conference.  She
is sooo much fun.  I liked carrying her around and watching people
smile at her.  We’d play with some other children sometimes, but I
found myself squeezing her and whispering, “I like you the
best of all.”

There
are many errors that are too common within the the evangelical church,
wrong-headed ideas that are blemishes and wrinkles on the Bride. 
Some are understandable, and others just plain silly.  Few skate
closer to the edge of blasphemy than this nugget drawn from the pages
of gestalt therapy.  God, we are told, is far more interested in
our honesty than our decorum.  If you are angry at God, God will
get angry at you if you don’t let Him know, in no uncertain terms, that
you are angry at Him.  God, we are told, is a big boy, and He can
take it.  Better still that’s what He actually wants from
you.  So, if you’re having a bad day, a bad week, or a bad six
months, shake your fist at the sky  until you and God both feel
better.  This sounds reasonable enough, if you have already
accepted accepted the premise that God’s chief end is to glorify man
and ensure his joy forever.

When the Bible tells us that God will not be mocked, such is
a two edged sword.  It does indeed
remind us that if you are mad at God, you won’t be able to pull the wool over
His eyes by smiling real sweet.  If your
goal is to flatter your way past Him, there is no point in hiding from Him your
anger, disappointment, impatience, and rage. 
If however, your goal is to avoid provoking His anger, disappointment,
impatience and rage, there is a point in not parading your anger in front of
Him.  In fact, the beginning of our call
to be “patient” with God is to repent of our impatience with God.  Yes, do admit your anger, and then plead
that He would forgive you of it, and cleanse you from it.  In short, neither honesty nor dishonesty
will cover your anger at God.  Only
Christ and His blood can do that.

-excerpt
from an article by R.C. Sproul Jr., (Tabletalk Magazine, September 2004)

This
from a man who considers his family mightily blessed in the last six
months:  two miscarriages; their
daughter, who is mentally retarded, having more serious seizures than before;
his wife being diagnosed with breast cancer last New Year’s Eve; loved ones
lost to death or broken relationships–some friendships floundering on the
rocks of grievous sin, and others simply “because I made people mad with the
things I’ve taught”; assorted financial hits and “my chickens won’t lay.”  And to him, “as great as all this news is, better
still is that God is patient with me.”

a three-quarter moon is sitting on a cloud. 

a big white fluffy, cashmere-and-whip-cream cloud

(personally, I’ve never found cotton

to be as soft as a cloud)–

still lit by the sunset in a cloudless west. 

it’s such a strange sight…

so bright it looks fake. 

the moon is actually giving the cloud a tiny sliver lining.

 

I’m awed that, though the cloud and the moon seem to be

on the same playground,

my cousin in Austin can see the same moon,

but not the cloud.

why did God make it that way? 

 

the best part of this evening is the breeze. 

cool-front breezes always continue

even after the sun has set. 

reminds me of being a little girl,

being a teenager,

driving home late from my job,

more years ago than I care to count, 

with the windows down.

marvelous.

 

I love spring,

but fall has more memories. 

I love it when the air gets a little nippy…

I go to the mall on a weekday evening to see

the Christmas decorations

(which get put out earlier and earlier every year)

and hear Bach playing all over. 

 

I feel like a kid tonight, only better,

because all the worries about who I am

and where I fit in

are washed away in experiences and memories.

I know who I am now,

and I like who God made me.

Paris is one of the best things

that ever happened to me. 

everyone should go to Paris. 

 

and everyone should have a big swing

in their backyard that gives them

a perfect view of the sunset,

a glorious northern breeze in their hair,

(to ruffle it, or to blow it over to Camelot, which ever you prefer)

and a great view of the moon past the tree branches

if they hang upside down just right.

wow…

excerpt from a newspaper editorial written in anticipation of the 50^th anniversary (1994) of the Normandy Landings and dedicated to the writer’s then 8-year-old grandson—

 

 

“These are sobering thoughts, but perhaps one day, God forbid, you will be called upon to fight.  There will be those who tell you that it is crazy to go to your death.  Don’t listen to them.  Of the very few values worth dying for, two should be held most dear: freedom and the respect of others.  I hope that you will be a man of peace because I am horrified by violence.  But take care never to be a pacifist, since tyrants of all stripes have not heart and no soul.”  

 -Rene Garre, president of the Conseil Regional of  Lower Normandy                                                                                                  

 

 

 

Rather suprising, from a Frenchman.  Take care never to be a pacifist.

 

 

Gracie had her second evaluation yesterday.  She has improved in every area.  Praise the Lord!  She has a great cross-pattern crawl, a little bit too much of a cutsie attitude, and is so adorable that the lady said, “If she were in my house I’d never get anything done.”  Yeah, kinda how we feel, too.  Apparently

 

She needs to start talking—we know she can say words, but she can be very stubborn, so we have to figure out how to motivate her.  She also needs more muscle tone, which means we’re not squeezing her baby arms and legs hard enough during her tactile exercises.  We’re supposed to squeeze until she pulls away in a normal ouch-that-hurt kind of way.  I think I need to start practicing piano again so I have some strength in my hands.  That child don’t feel nothin’! —or so it would seem.

 

Anyway, we have a lot to do and a long ways to go, but we’re thrilled that all our work is actually helping and that she has every prospect of growing up beautiful, intelligent, and socially proficient and productive (what we call “normal”).

 

A big thank you to all of you friends who have been praying for us.

 

        

                     Women don’t want to hear what you think. 

               They want to hear what they think, in a deeper voice. 

                                                           ~Bill Cosby

 

  

 

Left: Mt-Saint-Michele at night

 

Yesterday my baby sister—the one who called me “mama-sister”—turned 18.  And ya know, I don’t even feel old!   It’s fun having her share my room.