Someday I'm going to write a book called, "20 Things I Want My Children to Learn While They are Young That Took Me 30 Years to Learn." Okay, the title is kind of long, I'll work on that. In the mean time, this list from Erma (whom I admire greatly) will be more than enough.
Happy Mother's Day!
If I Had My Life To Live Over
by Erma Bombeck
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the "good" living room and worried much less about dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching TV - and more while watching life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
In stead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."
There would have been more "I love yous" ...more "I'm sorrys"...
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
...But(t) Dust
There is a joke that circulates through the emails on a regular basis about a little girl listening to the pastor's prayer, "Oh God, remember we are but dust." (Psalm 103:14). The little girl later asks her mother, "What is butt dust?"
Oh, we laugh, but at times we feel more like butt dust than but dust. And, we are not alone in this. Remember Nathan poking his finger in David's face, "You are the man..." Butt dust! Jesus catching his disciples snoozing while he is sweating blood in prayer, "Can't you watch with me for one hour?" Butt dust! And of course there is me who regularly crosses the line into that category of humiliation.
We are forever sorting out the quirks of the English language. We limp through synonyms, jump over spelling rules and sweat over punctuation. Is it "then" or "than", "further" or "farther", "but" or "butt"? This is why we go back to the original language. And of course we know it isn't the "but" that is the issue, it's the dust. The dust refereed to here is the dust God scooped up from His freshly created world and formed into people. It is also what our bodies will return to when when die. Although we are not worldly (all the time), we are of the world and the laws of nature pull at us constantly, drawing us ever closer to the dust, physically. But (there's that word again), our spirits are ever pulled heavenward by a stronger force. The love of a Heavenly Father. So, weather...um....whether I am "but dust" or "butt dust", my Father is compassionate and His lovingkindess is from everlasting to everlasting. He knows me and my "idiot-syncrasies", and yet I am loved.
This blog entry is dedicated to my friend Jennifer who finds literary inspiration in a clogged toilet and I am encouraged!
Oh, we laugh, but at times we feel more like butt dust than but dust. And, we are not alone in this. Remember Nathan poking his finger in David's face, "You are the man..." Butt dust! Jesus catching his disciples snoozing while he is sweating blood in prayer, "Can't you watch with me for one hour?" Butt dust! And of course there is me who regularly crosses the line into that category of humiliation.
We are forever sorting out the quirks of the English language. We limp through synonyms, jump over spelling rules and sweat over punctuation. Is it "then" or "than", "further" or "farther", "but" or "butt"? This is why we go back to the original language. And of course we know it isn't the "but" that is the issue, it's the dust. The dust refereed to here is the dust God scooped up from His freshly created world and formed into people. It is also what our bodies will return to when when die. Although we are not worldly (all the time), we are of the world and the laws of nature pull at us constantly, drawing us ever closer to the dust, physically. But (there's that word again), our spirits are ever pulled heavenward by a stronger force. The love of a Heavenly Father. So, weather...um....whether I am "but dust" or "butt dust", my Father is compassionate and His lovingkindess is from everlasting to everlasting. He knows me and my "idiot-syncrasies", and yet I am loved.
This blog entry is dedicated to my friend Jennifer who finds literary inspiration in a clogged toilet and I am encouraged!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Thirty Years? Thirty Years...THIRTY YEARS!
My husband, Tom, and I just celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary. I woke up June 21st, in Cordova, Alaska, and asked myself, "Can it really be 30 years?" Then I looked over at Tom, snoozing away, heavier, grayer, although I know I haven't changed a lick, and I can tell it has been 30 years! Okay, I admit, I have changed. I'm hoping the hair color commerical is correct in saying I'm not older, I'm better, but somehow I get the feeling they just want me to buy their hair dye.
When I asked Tom, "Are you where you thought you would be after thirty years?" he admitted he thought he would be in a different place, both physically and vocationally. He thought we would be living on a farm in Wisconsin, growing other people's children in a foster group home. "Really?" I replied, "I never knew that was your dream!" I'm not sure if he never told meor if I just never listened. Probably the latter. Then he returned the question to me. I of course had already thought about it, had been thinking about it and journaled it out! After all, it was my question. I had always pictured myself living in a lovely home, beautiful children, and grandchildren to adore. Those dreams have come true. Did I expect them to happen in Alaska? No. The thing that I never dreamed was an ordination and call to ministry. I certainly had expected a music ministry as a lay person. Choirs and worship teams were always important to me, but I never dreamed I'd have a longing to teach, preach and speak let alone a calling to do so.
As Tom and I talked, we both agreed we didn't expect marriage to be so difficult. The joining of two totally different opinions of how socks and towels should be folded, what color cars to purchase, with who's family we should celebrate Christmas, and the definition of affection, proves to be challenges we still deal with. For example: he considers me weeding flowers while he mows the lawn a date. I on the other hand expect dinner and movie, I consider a day of reading journaling and blogging (much like day today) a day well spent. He is all about cleaning the garage, building a planter and brushing the dog to make his day off complete. He does not understand the draw of Facebook and I cannot get the hang of banking on line. A lingering kiss and hug for me sets my day and for him, a quick smooch and a patting my backside means he's still interested. After thirty years you'd think we'd have met somewhere in the middle. But, alas we are still at opposite ends on many things.
The really important things we have managed to agree upon. We both felt Christian Education and an active church life to be priority for our children, pets are a must, family comes first right after God, and pizza on Friday nights is a bonding experience (thus the extra pounds, I'm afraid). We both feel birthdays and anniversaries are meant to be celebrated, and the bedroom is sacred. Individual "quiet time" for our own personal relationship with God has developed on it's own and we rarely infringe on each other during these morning sessions of quiet meditation. These are a few of the foundations that have held our relationship together through the tough times.
Speaking of tough times, there have been a few. I remember sitting in a counselor's office, Tom on one end of the couch me on the other and the counselor saying, "Really, I see no hope for this marriage. It would be better if you two just went your own ways." Well, we stuck it out. Are all our issues resolved? No, and they never will be because we are human. We have come to the conclusion that I will always remain a mystery to Tom, and he will always frustrate me with his down to business, cut the frills personality. We have learned to cope and even flourish at times, thanks to Dr. Dobson, the wisdom of children and the book of James.
As I looked through the cards at the grocery store, I chose one for Tom that had a drawing of a man's and woman's underwear on a clothes line with the words, "I'll be brief." The inside just read, "Happy Anniversary, darling." I penned the words, "These last 30 years have gone by so fast, let's take the next a little slower, please!" What does that mean? I'm not sure. To begin with: a quiet celebration walking the harbor of Cordova, being served gummy ice cream by an Irish archaeologist in a quiet burger joint, exchanging new wedding rings while we eat strawberry cheese cake in our jeans, and going to bed at nine. How romantic is that? In my book, very!
The question now is, "Where do I see myself in thirty years?" I hope to be a sweet little old lady ready with a tart come back now and then, a grandma who can spoil a teenager and yet be respected by the most rebellious waif, and the light in my husband's eye who still gives me a quick smooch and a pat on the bottom to show he's still interested.
Happy anniversary to my patient and sometimes astounded husband.
When I asked Tom, "Are you where you thought you would be after thirty years?" he admitted he thought he would be in a different place, both physically and vocationally. He thought we would be living on a farm in Wisconsin, growing other people's children in a foster group home. "Really?" I replied, "I never knew that was your dream!" I'm not sure if he never told meor if I just never listened. Probably the latter. Then he returned the question to me. I of course had already thought about it, had been thinking about it and journaled it out! After all, it was my question. I had always pictured myself living in a lovely home, beautiful children, and grandchildren to adore. Those dreams have come true. Did I expect them to happen in Alaska? No. The thing that I never dreamed was an ordination and call to ministry. I certainly had expected a music ministry as a lay person. Choirs and worship teams were always important to me, but I never dreamed I'd have a longing to teach, preach and speak let alone a calling to do so.
As Tom and I talked, we both agreed we didn't expect marriage to be so difficult. The joining of two totally different opinions of how socks and towels should be folded, what color cars to purchase, with who's family we should celebrate Christmas, and the definition of affection, proves to be challenges we still deal with. For example: he considers me weeding flowers while he mows the lawn a date. I on the other hand expect dinner and movie, I consider a day of reading journaling and blogging (much like day today) a day well spent. He is all about cleaning the garage, building a planter and brushing the dog to make his day off complete. He does not understand the draw of Facebook and I cannot get the hang of banking on line. A lingering kiss and hug for me sets my day and for him, a quick smooch and a patting my backside means he's still interested. After thirty years you'd think we'd have met somewhere in the middle. But, alas we are still at opposite ends on many things.
The really important things we have managed to agree upon. We both felt Christian Education and an active church life to be priority for our children, pets are a must, family comes first right after God, and pizza on Friday nights is a bonding experience (thus the extra pounds, I'm afraid). We both feel birthdays and anniversaries are meant to be celebrated, and the bedroom is sacred. Individual "quiet time" for our own personal relationship with God has developed on it's own and we rarely infringe on each other during these morning sessions of quiet meditation. These are a few of the foundations that have held our relationship together through the tough times.
Speaking of tough times, there have been a few. I remember sitting in a counselor's office, Tom on one end of the couch me on the other and the counselor saying, "Really, I see no hope for this marriage. It would be better if you two just went your own ways." Well, we stuck it out. Are all our issues resolved? No, and they never will be because we are human. We have come to the conclusion that I will always remain a mystery to Tom, and he will always frustrate me with his down to business, cut the frills personality. We have learned to cope and even flourish at times, thanks to Dr. Dobson, the wisdom of children and the book of James.
As I looked through the cards at the grocery store, I chose one for Tom that had a drawing of a man's and woman's underwear on a clothes line with the words, "I'll be brief." The inside just read, "Happy Anniversary, darling." I penned the words, "These last 30 years have gone by so fast, let's take the next a little slower, please!" What does that mean? I'm not sure. To begin with: a quiet celebration walking the harbor of Cordova, being served gummy ice cream by an Irish archaeologist in a quiet burger joint, exchanging new wedding rings while we eat strawberry cheese cake in our jeans, and going to bed at nine. How romantic is that? In my book, very!
The question now is, "Where do I see myself in thirty years?" I hope to be a sweet little old lady ready with a tart come back now and then, a grandma who can spoil a teenager and yet be respected by the most rebellious waif, and the light in my husband's eye who still gives me a quick smooch and a pat on the bottom to show he's still interested.
Happy anniversary to my patient and sometimes astounded husband.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Water and Blood
Sometimes I wish I could remember exactly what it was I was thinking and feeling when I wrote entries such as this one.
Journal Entry: July 21, 2002
This is the One who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only, but with the blood...For there are three that testify: The Spirit and the water and the blood, and the three are in agreement. 1 John 5:6-8
With a gush of water and blood, the infant Jesus was born into the world. The water from Mary's womb was absorbed into the straw and dirt beneath her. She lovingly wiped her own blood from the face of the newborn Christ. Mary's spirit soared as she looked her miracle baby with the blood and water of birth still evident in his hair.
Jesus rose out of the water on the strong arm of His trusted cousin. The water streamed from his face and clothes as John brought Him upright and the Spirit of God descended and lit on Jesus' wet hair. John was a witness to the Father's approval and although he was unaware of the fact, his own spilled blood was soon be the beginning of the end of Jesus' earthly ministry.
Jesus, in unbearable pain, looked to heaven and released His Spirit to His Father. Nearby a soldier lifted his sword, and plunged into Jesus' side. Again, there was a gush of water and blood. The ground beneath the cross absorbed the water of a broken heart and Mary wiped her Son's blood from His face.
The testimony of the Spirit, the water and the blood...And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. 1 John 5:11
Journal Entry: July 21, 2002
This is the One who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only, but with the blood...For there are three that testify: The Spirit and the water and the blood, and the three are in agreement. 1 John 5:6-8
With a gush of water and blood, the infant Jesus was born into the world. The water from Mary's womb was absorbed into the straw and dirt beneath her. She lovingly wiped her own blood from the face of the newborn Christ. Mary's spirit soared as she looked her miracle baby with the blood and water of birth still evident in his hair.
Jesus rose out of the water on the strong arm of His trusted cousin. The water streamed from his face and clothes as John brought Him upright and the Spirit of God descended and lit on Jesus' wet hair. John was a witness to the Father's approval and although he was unaware of the fact, his own spilled blood was soon be the beginning of the end of Jesus' earthly ministry.
Jesus, in unbearable pain, looked to heaven and released His Spirit to His Father. Nearby a soldier lifted his sword, and plunged into Jesus' side. Again, there was a gush of water and blood. The ground beneath the cross absorbed the water of a broken heart and Mary wiped her Son's blood from His face.
The testimony of the Spirit, the water and the blood...And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. 1 John 5:11
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Garage Sale Gifts
Mother's Day! What a bouquet of memories and emotions that day brings up for me.
As a child growing up on the edge of a field of Wyoming wild flowers, Mother's Day meant a handpicked bouquet of weeds, roots and all, proudly presented to my mom. She loveingly put them into her best vases and set them in a place of honor. They looked quite exquisite; but oh, the smell! Wyoming wild flowers smell like old swamp water when you bring them indoors. Smell didn't matter though, they were appreciated and I learned that giving is better than receiving, smelly wild flowers, that is.
As a young mother I received numerous handmade object from school and Sunday school classes. I always loved the handmade pop cycle stick projects with macaroni glued precariously in indiscernible patterns, but they only held a close second to the garage sale items wrapped in whatever paper was available, including toilet paper. I've received old jewelry boxes, books, and slightly used beauty aids. I have unwrapped blue plates, rocks and odd kitchen gadgets; all given with the light of expectation in the eyes of a child, purchased with pennies from my own pocket.
Kristen shared the tale of her neighbor boy who had a little garage sale on her curb. Six pilfered items made up his total inventory. Among those items was a Harlequin Romance and a camera. I had to laugh as I imagined one mom frantically looking for her much anticipated novel as her "me time" ticked away; and another mother unwrapping an amazing gift of a digital camera with pictures of someone elses child smiling from the mini screen. Children have little sense of personal or monetary value which is refreshing if not frustrating at times.
This year my Mother's Day will consist of a lovely dinner provided by my husband, beautifully wrapped and well thought out gifts and cards from my children, and purchasing a perfect bouquet of flowers to deliver to the cemetery. I will hug my children, kiss my grand baby and miss my mom, but it will be another memorable Mother's Day, because being a daughter and a mother is a memorable gift from God.
I wish you a Happy and Memorable Mother's Day!
As a child growing up on the edge of a field of Wyoming wild flowers, Mother's Day meant a handpicked bouquet of weeds, roots and all, proudly presented to my mom. She loveingly put them into her best vases and set them in a place of honor. They looked quite exquisite; but oh, the smell! Wyoming wild flowers smell like old swamp water when you bring them indoors. Smell didn't matter though, they were appreciated and I learned that giving is better than receiving, smelly wild flowers, that is.
As a young mother I received numerous handmade object from school and Sunday school classes. I always loved the handmade pop cycle stick projects with macaroni glued precariously in indiscernible patterns, but they only held a close second to the garage sale items wrapped in whatever paper was available, including toilet paper. I've received old jewelry boxes, books, and slightly used beauty aids. I have unwrapped blue plates, rocks and odd kitchen gadgets; all given with the light of expectation in the eyes of a child, purchased with pennies from my own pocket.
Kristen shared the tale of her neighbor boy who had a little garage sale on her curb. Six pilfered items made up his total inventory. Among those items was a Harlequin Romance and a camera. I had to laugh as I imagined one mom frantically looking for her much anticipated novel as her "me time" ticked away; and another mother unwrapping an amazing gift of a digital camera with pictures of someone elses child smiling from the mini screen. Children have little sense of personal or monetary value which is refreshing if not frustrating at times.
This year my Mother's Day will consist of a lovely dinner provided by my husband, beautifully wrapped and well thought out gifts and cards from my children, and purchasing a perfect bouquet of flowers to deliver to the cemetery. I will hug my children, kiss my grand baby and miss my mom, but it will be another memorable Mother's Day, because being a daughter and a mother is a memorable gift from God.
I wish you a Happy and Memorable Mother's Day!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Right Where I Left Me!
Here I am, sitting in my cute little office and enjoying the kind of music I like. I'm burning a candle that smells like tangerines and I'm thinking lunch will be one of my favorite foods. Yes, I have the house all to myself! Lovely. It's always been a special treat for me to have time alone. I used to live for that week in summer when Tom would take the kids camping and I would sew, watch romantic comedies, clean house and have it stay clean for a few days. And now, here I am, alone, and well...alone.
Changes in my life seem to come in bunches, kind of like bananas; and like bananas, if I don't deal with them all at the same time they go bad really fast! Graduations, weddings, funerals and the pesky physical changes of aging have seemed to be ever present for the last few years. The rush of shopping, packing, running and just trying to be everywhere at once has suddenly come to a screeching halt, and I'm finding myself thrown up against the dashboard of the empty nest. Thankfully I have the airbag of all those things I've been wanting to get to for the past twenty years. I've whittled down the "stuff" from my kitchen and all my pots and pans fit in the cupboard, my gadgets all fit in the drawers and I'm finding I don't mind cooking dinner near as much. I also have all those books I've been longing to read and even a few writing projects beginning to surface.
On the radio the other morning during a minute spot on women's issues, the announcer was talking about a woman who had "lost" herself during the years of raising her children and now that they were gone she felt as if she didn't know who she was. In a moment of panic I took a quick innovatory to see if I had "lost" myself. Nope! There I was. Right where I had left me.
Although my children have played an enormous part in my life through the years, I am happy to say I've never lost sight of who I was. The personalities that have filled my home and my heart were never so overbearing that mine got lost in the shuffle of living. I am thankful for Grace Christian School that provided an excellent education for my children when I knew homeschooling was definitely something this mom could not manage, the provision of God that supplied the funds has been miraculous. I am thankful for pastors who encouraged me and provided me with ministry opportunities that enhanced my giftings and let me shine. I am thankful for sisters/friends who wouldn't let me forget my love for a good novel, movie and cup of coffee; who laughed, cried, walked, dieted and binged with me. I am thankful for a job that allowed me to be available for my children and yet challenged me to be the best I can be. And that man of mine! He put up with my longings and yearnings for places unknown and then somehow managed to get me there (Rome is still waiting). What a ride it's been, and we are still traveling strong!
Yesterday I went past TJ's room, saw the empty walls and boxed up books and felt a pang of sorrow. The other day I dreamed Kristen and Jolene were looking down at me from the top of the stairs with little girl glee and woke feeling sad. I delight in sending Rosie boxes of goodies packaged in motherly love and miss her terribly. Jordan's family reminds me of all those times when I felt the frustration of not being enough and yet not wanting it to be any other way; knowing that somehow God would take care of the gaps. There is a measure of sadness in the emptying of the nest, but freedom too. Today I am free to share a few thoughts on my blog, run to my favorite book store and watch Dr. Oz without anyone to mock or ridicule me (TJ). When dinner rolls around I'll pull out the big pot, rethink and grab the smaller one instead. I'll say a prayer for my fledgling sparrows and know the Father is watching over them and enjoy a quiet dinner with my husband. I have found myself to be contented and looking forward to tomorrow.
Yep, that's where I am; right where I left me.
Changes in my life seem to come in bunches, kind of like bananas; and like bananas, if I don't deal with them all at the same time they go bad really fast! Graduations, weddings, funerals and the pesky physical changes of aging have seemed to be ever present for the last few years. The rush of shopping, packing, running and just trying to be everywhere at once has suddenly come to a screeching halt, and I'm finding myself thrown up against the dashboard of the empty nest. Thankfully I have the airbag of all those things I've been wanting to get to for the past twenty years. I've whittled down the "stuff" from my kitchen and all my pots and pans fit in the cupboard, my gadgets all fit in the drawers and I'm finding I don't mind cooking dinner near as much. I also have all those books I've been longing to read and even a few writing projects beginning to surface.
On the radio the other morning during a minute spot on women's issues, the announcer was talking about a woman who had "lost" herself during the years of raising her children and now that they were gone she felt as if she didn't know who she was. In a moment of panic I took a quick innovatory to see if I had "lost" myself. Nope! There I was. Right where I had left me.
Although my children have played an enormous part in my life through the years, I am happy to say I've never lost sight of who I was. The personalities that have filled my home and my heart were never so overbearing that mine got lost in the shuffle of living. I am thankful for Grace Christian School that provided an excellent education for my children when I knew homeschooling was definitely something this mom could not manage, the provision of God that supplied the funds has been miraculous. I am thankful for pastors who encouraged me and provided me with ministry opportunities that enhanced my giftings and let me shine. I am thankful for sisters/friends who wouldn't let me forget my love for a good novel, movie and cup of coffee; who laughed, cried, walked, dieted and binged with me. I am thankful for a job that allowed me to be available for my children and yet challenged me to be the best I can be. And that man of mine! He put up with my longings and yearnings for places unknown and then somehow managed to get me there (Rome is still waiting). What a ride it's been, and we are still traveling strong!
Yesterday I went past TJ's room, saw the empty walls and boxed up books and felt a pang of sorrow. The other day I dreamed Kristen and Jolene were looking down at me from the top of the stairs with little girl glee and woke feeling sad. I delight in sending Rosie boxes of goodies packaged in motherly love and miss her terribly. Jordan's family reminds me of all those times when I felt the frustration of not being enough and yet not wanting it to be any other way; knowing that somehow God would take care of the gaps. There is a measure of sadness in the emptying of the nest, but freedom too. Today I am free to share a few thoughts on my blog, run to my favorite book store and watch Dr. Oz without anyone to mock or ridicule me (TJ). When dinner rolls around I'll pull out the big pot, rethink and grab the smaller one instead. I'll say a prayer for my fledgling sparrows and know the Father is watching over them and enjoy a quiet dinner with my husband. I have found myself to be contented and looking forward to tomorrow.
Yep, that's where I am; right where I left me.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Ultimate Fake
If people knew how inadequate and inept I am they would be shocked! It's really just the grace of God and "faking" that gets me through. It's like my new Ultimate Christmas Fake Book that has all the Christmas Carols I want to play. It gives me the words, melody line and all the chords. I just sit down at my piano and I can play just about anything in there. I'll choose a Christmas Song like, Merry Christmas, Darling (My all time secular favorite). It goes like this: "Cm, Dm, Gm, Cm,"" I'm doing great! "F7, Bb, Gm, F#+" WHAT?!!! What is an F#+? Oh well, skip that one, and on we go! Every once in a while I'll hit one of those schmaltzy chords right and I sound like I really know what I'm doing, when in actuality it was a total accident.
At times, that's how I tend to live my life. I accidentally read something about a great author and I can chat like I have a literature degree! I stumble on a recipe and the finished product looks like it was prepared by a pro, and I glow with the compliments I receive, when it was really very easy and foolproof. I have learned enough Scripture over the years to hold my own in a debate on predestination and post or pre-tribulation, but don't ask me what I Scripture I read this week, the answer may be embarrassing for me.
Jesus told the woman at the well (who was a pretty good faker herself!), "But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." John 4:23-24 NAS
No matter how you fake it, God is searching for those whose worship is sincere. May He find my heart ever true.
At times, that's how I tend to live my life. I accidentally read something about a great author and I can chat like I have a literature degree! I stumble on a recipe and the finished product looks like it was prepared by a pro, and I glow with the compliments I receive, when it was really very easy and foolproof. I have learned enough Scripture over the years to hold my own in a debate on predestination and post or pre-tribulation, but don't ask me what I Scripture I read this week, the answer may be embarrassing for me.
Jesus told the woman at the well (who was a pretty good faker herself!), "But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." John 4:23-24 NAS
No matter how you fake it, God is searching for those whose worship is sincere. May He find my heart ever true.
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