Say what?

Father, forgive me for I have been silent. It has been almost a month since my last blog post.

It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say. Quite the opposite, really.

Funny thing though. It seems the more I have on my mind, the less I say.

If you’ve ever held a somewhat serious conversation with me face to face then you know what I mean and how that plays out. I have to think long and hard about something before it can ever get past my vocal chords and out of my mouth. That mind-to-mouth-relay delay is the cause of a lot of anxious silence in my conversations. It drives Scott nuts. He can look at me and tell that my mind is working, but my lips are squeezed tightly closed. “Just spit it out,” is often what he says to me when he sees my face in that “I’m-thinking” contortion.

Alas, that has been my dilemma for the last month or so.

I’ve been thinking about my father-in-law and his most recent 10-day visit to our house.

I’ve been thinking about my boss’ upcoming retirement and everything that means for our office.

I’ve been thinking about my dad and his cancer treatment.

I’ve been thinking about my mom along with the joy as well as the difficulties that her upcoming 80th birthday brings.

I’ve been thinking about my sisters who are both completely different from each other and even more so from me, yet still sharing some of the same characteristics and how all that affects the two previous things on this list.

I’ve been thinking about my husband’s continued frustration with his work and purpose.

I’ve been thinking about how I’m still trying to figure out how to manage the loss and the change that resulted from my lifelong love of church being abused by its leadership.

See there. I’ve already said too much. How can I let those things slip out without explaining the depth, detail and meaning of each and every one of them?

So, I remain silent.

The curious thing about all this is that I am a WORD person. Ugh, how I hate the NUMBERS. I prefer word games like crossword puzzles and Jumble and Boggle and Scrabble and Pathwords. Not so much the Yahtzee and…. I can’t ever think of any other numbers games because they are just not fun for me. They are more of a chore.

Oh, and add to the previous list above: I’ve been thinking about reconciling my checkbook but not ever actually doing it.

The hesitation in getting my words out is usually because I’m trying to consider just how the person listening will actually hear what it is that I’m about say. Will they fully understand? Will they hear it like I intend it? Will they really know what I mean? Will they think I am absolutely nuts? Will they think I’m being critical of them personally? Will they hear it in love? How can I say this so they will know exactly where I’m coming from? How can I say everything that I’m thinking in a short, concise, clear manner? How can I be absolutely clear?

It’s the hearer of my words that hangs me up.

Sometimes, no matter how long I hesitate or how much I carefully consider my choice of words, they still get misunderstood.

I guess I can understand a tiny, little bit of what Moses must have felt. He classified himself as slow of speech. Yeah, me too.

Once his bush began to burn, though, that fire led the way for him for the rest of his life.

Even when his audience wasn’t really listening.

God gave Moses his mouth, helped him speak, and taught him what to say.

God gave me my mouth and is teaching me what to say. He will help me.

So, if I ever get to the point where I can immediately respond and speak what’s on my mind in a serious conversation, you can bet that I will have already thought long and hard about the topic before I ever even got involved in the current conversation. I’ll have taken what He’s taught me to heart.

Which is to say, once I finally start talking I probably will say everything single thing that’s on my mind. Without hesitation. Look out. The woods might be on fire.

Moses said to the Lord, "O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue." The Lord said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." Exodus 4:10-12

Why do children have to die?

The past weekend Scott and I went to the upstate to visit with Scott's dad, my father-in-law. We call him Pop. Scott's sister was there too. Sunday was the 2-year anniversary of my mother-in-law's death and Pop wanted his family to be together on that day. Pop wanted Scott to sing in his church on Sunday the song Scott sang at her funeral.

My mother-in-law was on hospice care for nine months before her death, so there was a lot of time to think about her funeral service. Nobody actually did much talking about it, but everyone was thinking about it, and I think everyone must have been thinking something different. Pop was absolutely sure he wanted Scott to sing. Scott was absolutely sure that he would never make it through trying to sing at his mom's funeral without losing it. Scott spent all of those nine months telling me so.

When my mother in law did finally leave us for heaven, not only was Scott grieved, he was also a nervous wreck about the whole singing or not singing business. Pop has always been stubbornly persuasive with Scott. In the end Scott decided it was easier to say yes and struggle through it for Pop than to say no for his own personal relief.

During the funeral and with his agreement beforehand, I spent every minute up until it was time for Scott to sing trying to distract him from what was going on in the service. I guess a better way to say that is that I was trying to help him keep his focus on nothing but singing to help prevent him from losing it. When the time finally came and he got up to sing, a voice came out of him that I had never heard before. And it was beautiful. Scott made the sacrifice and let himself be used of God to bless others. I'm convinced that it was the voice of the Holy Spirit that I heard that day.

So, here we are two years later. Scott did sing that same song in his dad's church on Sunday. Lois was the reason we were all together that day and she was definitely missed, but it was a little easier to celebrate her life this time.

Later that afternoon as we got ready to leave Pop's house to head back home, another funeral procession was underway. Pop's house is right across the street from the cemetery so standing in the driveway, we had front row seats.

We had to wait for the procession to drive by before we could get out on the road. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before. It was Heather Brooke Center's funeral. She was a 8-year old little girl who was shot four times by the estranged husband of her father's girlfriend. It is a sad, sad story (you can read about it here). None of us know the family, but it didn't matter. We were still moved by what we saw.

There were hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles in the processional. One motorcycle even pulled the casket behind it in a carriage. I'm willing to bet that most of those riders didn't know the child either, but they wanted to pay tribute to this special situation.


Scott, who has sung for countless funerals for people ranging from those he didn't even know to his own mother, said, "but it's different when it's a child."

I stood there on the driveway in the sweltering heat. I had a napkin in my hand that I had been using to wipe perspiration off my face. As the cyclists drove by, a time or two I found myself waving my paper hankie at them before I realized what I was doing. Then, I was wiping the tears from my eyes with it. Again, I didn't know the child or anyone in her family.

But it's different when it's a child.

I have two good friends that are close to my age. They don't know each other because they live in different cities and are from different times in my life, but they have something in common besides having me as a friend. Both of these women lost sons to cancer before they ever reached double digits in age. I know that the death of those little boys changed their lives completely and forever.

I never knew Blake or Tyler either. (The anniversary of Tyler's death is this week too.) I didn't meet their moms until after they were gone.

I don't know how Ron & Cindy and Linda & Bobo have managed to beat the odds and stay married in spite of how difficult it must have been.

I don't know how they managed to continue to raise little girls after that, teaching them to love a brother they never really knew.

I just don't know. As I sit here and think about it I just can't imagine what it must be like.

Then I hear a voice in my heart and maybe I understand a little better.

"It's different when it's My child."

And I know it's the voice of God.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

My shrub nubs

My, oh, my, the bizarre-ity I've lived the past few days. The events and surprises that have come my way are certainly blog worthy. Except that I'm not that kind of blogger. I mean, I can't sit down and immediately rant about what just happened. I have to ruminate for a while before I can begin to write it down. So, I've got a lot on my mind, but you'll have to check back in a fews days (or weeks!) to find out what it is.

Scott's been a victim of my bizarro world activities lately too. He told me several times over the last 24 hours that he just wanted to come home after work today and work in the yard. Do some mindless physical labor. No thinking. So that's what we did.

Now, just in case you did not know, I am not really a yard person. We both let the yard work slip way down on the priority list once we moved to the woods. We tried to keep it up at first, but it became too difficult to keep up with all the shedding trees. It was a never-ending, losing battle. Going au naturale was a lot easier. Easier, yes; lovelier, no.

If my dad saw my yard he would declare, "Depart from me, I never knew ye." His greener than envy grass and plant and flower and fruit tree and pepper plant self would be so embarrassed for me and my grey moss and brown leaf ground cover.

But, alas, it was time. We needed the distraction and the yard needed some attention. I started out today trying to re-pot a couple of ferns, but soon realized I didn't have any potting soil so I gave up on that. Then I got out the hedge clippers. The bushes along the front of the house had been spawning spindly arms that almost reached the roof. Those shrubs needed to be chopped. So I got busy. And busier. And busier. And busier. Did I mention I'm not a yard person? I have no idea how to trim a hedge, or a shrub, or a bush. I now no longer have shrubs. I have sticks growing out of the ground. I don't know what happened to all the leaves. I guess I got a little carried away.

There is one bright spot in this shrub escapade. When I first stepped behind the bushes I noticed a little lump of something brown up close to the edge of the house. From where I was standing it looked like a little pile of poop. There were flies buzzing all around it. I figured it belonged to Marbles the Cat, but I thought it was odd that she hadn't covered it up. She always covers it up. There are a lot of brown leaves around to help her with that. Plus, I've never seen her poop so close the house. But I kept cutting my shrubs, working my way towards that little pile of poop. Once I got up to it I took a closer look. It had little tiny feet. Four of them. Upon closer inspection I saw that it was not a pile of poop but rather a decomposing mole.

I suppose I can still blame that on Marbles.

Last year moles ate the roots of my plumbagos. While Marbles napped. You can see the pictures of that and read about it here.

Oh, she's come so far.

I hope I'll be able to say that about myself when I'm finally able to write about what's really been going on this week.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. Psalm 19:14

Lower your voice, please

All sopranos, basses, and tenors, please move along.

This sign is in the parking lot of a local grocery store.

The sign on the opposite side of this intersection facing the oncoming traffic just says "STOP" with no vocal part clarification. So, I guess you can go in, but you can't get out without singing. In harmony.

Now, before you go and tell me I'm stoooopid 'cause alto means stop in Spanish, let me assure you that I already know that.

I took a couple of semesters of Spanish is college. I can read it OK and can usually at least figure out a little bit about what I'm reading.

I just don't speak it very often at all. Certainly not nearly as often as I visit this grocery store parking lot.

It just struck me funny, here is our little town where the majority of the general population doesn't understand what you are saying if you don't speak with a southern lowcountry drawl. Much less a foreign language.

Maybe the grocery store is trying to drum up business from the Taco Bell crowd. It is, after all, in the same parking lot. You can even hear the Bell's drive through associate repeating orders on the loud speaker as you walk from your car into the grocery store. Except, I don't think any of them speak spanish.

It also made me think, if alto is the Spanish word for stop, what is the Spanish word for alto (as in, the lower female voice part)?

Which also made me think, if you sing the lower female voice part in a lovely Spanish choir and the choir director wants you to stop singing, does he say, "Alto, alto!"?

If the director were speaking directly to me, he would probably say, "Alto loco."

To which I would say, "adios and hasta la vista, baby."


The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Psalm 19:1-3

No - Not - Note

My husband doesn’t read this blog on a regular basis. Instead he catches up on it every few weeks or so, which is fine. Really. When he does read it, he finds all my typing mistakes. I don’t have that much trouble misspelling words, but I do have a tendency to use the wrong word. Well, not exactly the wrong word. More like just not the word I intended to use, but more about that in a minute. I also sometimes add an extra word that doesn’t need to be there or I leave one out that should be there. That is mainly because my brain works way faster than my fingers. If you’ve read many of my posts, you know.

My husband has suggested that I hire him as a proofreader. I admit, I need one. Trouble is, his once-a-month reading just doesn’t suit my schedule. Whatever my schedule is. I don’t even know myself because the past couple of weeks, I have hardly posted anything.

Anyway.

The main reason all of that was on my mind was because I made another typing boo boo at work this morning. I made the same kind of mistake I frequently do. The wrong word came out. It wasn’t that I chose the wrong word. It was my poor typing. See, I type the right word but I end up adding an extra letter or leaving one off, which changes the whole meaning, not only of the word, but of the entire sentence and the complete thought I’m trying to convey.

Here’s what I typed this morning.

“Dough.”

Yes, that’s a word and it is spelled correctly. No problem with that.

However, I was addressing an email to my boss’ boss. His name is Doug.

Not Dough.

Dough, boy. I mean, OH, BOY. I sure messed that one up, didn’t I?

(And just so you know, Doug is not really the tall, lean, muscular, athletic type, which made me feel even more stupid. Ugh.)

I get so carried away sometimes that I don’t pay close attention. I do it all the time.

I think it happens in my hearing too, not just my typing. I think I hear one thing, but what is actually being said is something with just one added letter, but a world of difference in the meaning.

Like when I think I hear God saying, “No.” I think I hear that “no” so I sit around waiting on Him to do something different to change the situation.

But what He’s really saying is, “Now.” He’s waiting on ME to do something. For Him. Now.

And you know what? The clarification between “no” and “now” usually comes from other “proofreaders” in my life, my husband among them, who help me with discern what I hear.

"Teach me, and I will be quiet; show me where I have been wrong. How painful are honest words! Job 6:24-25

I'm a toddler blogger now

February.

It happens every year about this time.

It’s the shortest month in the entire year, but full of so many different things.

Like Groundhog Day. It always makes me laugh because it’s so absurd. And, they even made a movie about it, which also makes me laugh.

Then there is Valentine’s Day. I love hearts. I have several pieces of heart jewelry and lots of heart decorations around my house. Since I was a little slack in sending out Christmas cards back in December, I have tried to make up for it by sending out a few Valentine’s cards. That’s always fun becasue people aren't really expecting them.

February also brings a holiday for presidents. Well, not really FOR presidents, but in honor of them, celebrating all the cherry pie and not telling lies and wooden teeth. And reading books and theatre assassinations.

This year we have a new president, who is also African American. Which is another thing about February. It’s Black History month.

This year Lent begins in February. I’m not sure that’s always to the case, but it’s probably close.
On a personal level, February always makes me think of craniotomies. (If you want to know why, click here and read this). It’s funny how a personal experience will affect your perspective about something simple, like the weather conditions in February. It’s also funny how something random (like the weather) will trigger memories of that personal experience. For me, there’s something about a cold, brisk, sunshiny February day that always makes me think about a brain being exposed to the light of day. Weird, I know.

And, tomorrow, I’m celebrating something new in February. My first blogiversary. It’s been one year since my very first post. Wow. I can’t believe 12 months have gone by already.

I don’t even remember how I even got interested in blogging in the first place. It’s almost like I woke up one day and said, “I think I’ll start my own blog.” And I did.

I didn’t do it for any kind of supplemental income. I don’t have ads or sponsors or giveaways, so there is no money involved.

I didn’t do it to become a part of a larger community or to network and add to my contact list. I like to communicate but I prefer more intimate settings, not mass, global levels and not at light speed. I do not have a Facebook page, I don’t twitter. I don’t even really have a cell phone. (Well, OK, I have a prepaid phone with about 30 minutes on it that I carry in my purse just for emergencies. I don’t even know the phone number of it. I only use it to call my husband and it's turned off until I get ready to do that).

In the same vein, I didn’t start blogging to grow my own cult. By that I mean, I have no intentions of building a readership for some future book I want to write. There is no such book in my head. I also had no expectations about comments. By that I mean, I expected that there would be no comments. I know there are some readers because I get emails and face to face comments from some local friends. I love those of you who do read and I’m glad you’re along for the ride, but sorry, I didn’t really get into the blog thing to keep you informed and intrigued by the goings-on in my head. That’s just a bonus, for free.

The real fun is in reading other people’s blogs. I can’t tell you how many times in the last year I’ve been drawn in to other people’s lives that I have never met. Sometimes I get so absorbed in it that I think these bloggers live right in my own neighborhood and are my best friends. The blogosphere makes me believe it really is a small world after all. But at the same time, I have never met most of the people who write the blogs I read and I probably never will because they live half way around the world, which makes me feel small and the world too big. I had no idea about any of that that kind of duality this time last year.

All I know is a long time ago I used to be different. Somewhere along the way in living life and getting older, for one reason or another, I lost many of my creative outlets. My creativity, part of my heart and soul, just stayed inside longing for release. About a year or so ago, I began to think my head would explode from the internal build-up. Voilá! The blog spot for my brain overload was born.

Maybe if I keep at it for another year, I might figure out what in the world I’m really doing here. If you have any clue, leave me a comment. Or not. I love you anyway.

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way. The Lord be with all of you. I, Paul, write this greeting in my own hand, which is the distinguishing mark in all my letters. This is how I write. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. 2 Thessalonians 3: 16-08

Word of the day: CHANGE

CHANGE FOR A DOLLAR
There used to be a commercial on TV (I can’t remember who/what it was advertising) where a couple digs underneath their sofa cushions for all the loose change and comments about how that is their retirement savings account. Scott and I both related to that commercial because neither one of us thinks we will ever be able to retire. We’re just going to have to keep on working until we die. I’ll probably be the little old lady working as a grocery store check-out clerk who is s-o-o-o slow and wants to chat about all your purchases. Scott thinks maybe if he ever gets out of church work, he might be able to get a job at a funeral home. That would make it convenient. You know, for the end. We will probably truly need the employee discount.

Anyway.

That commercial resonated with us so that we started calling the jar on our dresser our “retirement fund” and it stuck. We’ve been calling it that for several years now. It’s our loose change jar. It’s actually a tall, tropical drink glass with a round bottom and bell-like top. We throw all our change it there instead of carrying it around in our pockets.

It was almost full so yesterday I emptied it and began counting and rolling nickels, dimes, pennies, and quarters. I finished up today. The total dollar amount came to $78. I bet if we had let it go until it was completely full it would have held exactly $100. For some reason, I just had to get that change counted and summed up today. We can start over tomorrow with an empty jar.

CHANGE IN THE WEATHER
On a totally unrelated note, it snowed in the South Carolina Lowcountry today. While it’s not completely foreign, snow is not all that common around here. It snowed lightly all afternoon. Most of it melted as it hit the ground, but some of it stuck. I had snow on my car when I left the office and headed home. When I got home, my roof was lightly covered with it. The white roof really brightened up the whole place. Our roof is usually always shadowed by trees. The clean, white snow was a pleasant surprise and quite nice for a change. The snow will most likely be gone before nightfall. We’ll wake up tomorrow to a sunny forecast.

CHANGING OF THE GUARD
And on a third not really related note either, I watched the CNN.com live feed of the presidential inauguration today while I was at work. I was alone in the office. The postman came to deliver the mail and he stayed and watched with me a while. Honestly, I was so over the whole election thing long before I even was able to cast my vote back in November, so I just wasn’t in with all the hype of the ceremonies today. I must admit, however, that seeing all those people in the Capitol mall was striking.

There were an estimated two million Americans there for what I saw was one common purpose – to transfer power to a new leader. The amazing thing is that the power and authority changed from one man to the other without force, without military action, without gunfire, without coercion. That is really is no small thing. Regardless of who our president is today, or was yesterday, we live in a remarkable country.

Our sovereign God has allowed Obama to be placed in the position as leader of our country. Since God has allowed it, then He also has a purpose in it that can be used for His glory. Of course, President Obama’s key component for his campaign was ‘change’. Maybe it’s those changes that Obama envisions that will be used to fulfill God’s purpose. Or, maybe the change that will come will be in President Obama himself.

I’m going wake up tomorrow and the grey, snowy clouds will have changed to sunshine. I’ll take my $78 in coins to the bank and have the teller exchange them to dollar bills for me.

But I’ll still be the same person I was yesterday.

Maybe I should take my own words to heart. There are some things I could change to help make myself a better person. Who knows, maybe there are two million Americans out there waiting for someone like me to make a change that makes a difference.

A changed man can change the world. Especially if he’s been changed by the One who never changes.

I the Lord do not change. Malachi 3:6

I think I have misplaced my dictionary

It’s a simple concept. Evolving circumstances brings newness into our lives.

When we’re in the midst of a change, we get to experience things like new choices we’ve never had before. New perspectives. New friends. New responsibilities. New knowledge. Lots of newness.

A bit of the newness that I gained through the campaign process for a new commander in chief included a couple of new words.

Maybe they are old words with new meanings. Or maybe I’m behind in learning the contemporary terms for 2008.

And if you didn’t know already, I get much of the humor in my life from words people use. Or misuse, if you will.

I heard these words numerous times from broadcasters on national news channels. I read them in articles in prominent news publications. My ears perked up each time I heard these words because they just sounded so odd given the serious campaign context.

The first word that made me listen up was ‘slimed.’ Apparently, that’s what it is called now when someone talks trash about someone else, like a political candidate. Apparently, it doesn’t have to be factual or based on truth.

I don’t think I had ever used the word ‘slimed’ before except maybe when I was watching Nickelodeon.

Is ‘slimed’ on the list of top 100 words you use every day?

Now that I’ve heard serious news reporters use it, I think I’m going to enjoy increasing my word power with ‘slimed.’ I know I will have an opportunity to use it soon because people talk bad about other people all the time. I must be careful, however, or I will be the one slimed.

The second word that perked my ears up like a good guard dog’s is ‘vetted.’ Yes, the dog analogy was intentional. ‘Vetted’ sounds like the past tense of the tasks a veterinarian performs. Doesn’t it? I think the origin of the word ‘vetted’ has something to do with checking out a horse before the big race to see if it was fit. Anyway, it was in the animal section of my vocabulary.

When is the last time you used the word ‘vetted?’

The popular definition of ‘vetted’ now relates to extensive fact-checking. That is, scrutinizing someone’s financial records, associations, conduct, arrest record, medical history, legal status, elementary school permanent records, etc. It goes beyond your basic background check.

I’m not really sure if vetting involves a search for something good or something bad.

But watch out. If you find yourself in a position to be vetted, you will most likely end up being slimed.

Whatever exists has already been named; and what man is has been known; no man can contend with one who is stronger than he. The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone? Ecclesiastes 6:10-1

Can you hear me now?

Dear God:

For several days I have tried to articulate this but I just can’t seem to get the words out.

I know that you know.

I know that I don’t have to say a word and that you are already aware of what’s on my mind and in my heart. But I haven’t been able to really rest because there is the something inside of me that needs to be released.

The reason I’ve just got to spit it out is because of what you’ve impressed on me lately about my voice and your words.

I know you have been trying to show me how to let those two things be the same thing.

You started this lesson back in February when you spoke to me through a visiting minister at a local revival. It was the message from Acts 2 when the Holy Spirit came with what appeared to be tongues of fire and somehow broke the language barrier so that the your gospel message could be shared to everyone there. The minister said it was kind of like eating jalapeno peppers. Your eyes water and you can’t help but say out loud to everyone around just how hot and powerful it really is.

Out loud.

A couple of months ago you put some more of your Words in front of me that made me take notice again. It wasn’t from a workbook or anything I had been studying. You surprised me out of the blue with a message from a speaker on TV. I haven’t heard too many messages from 2 Chronicles, and especially not on TV. Well, you’ll do anything to get me to listen, won’t you? That whole story about Jehoshaphat leading Judah and Jerusalem to defeat a vast enemy army by using their voices as their only weapon, and I believe you said they used LOUD voices, well, it has been ringing loudly in my head ever since.

Loud voices.

And you know me so well. You know I have to read and re-read and study and stew and steep on things. So you brought that visiting minister back to town this week to speak at a different location, had him preach that same sermon from Acts 2, and made sure I was there to hear it again. You certainly are thorough, aren’t you? I think you must really want me to get the message about the tongues of fire and about saying out loud whatever words you put in my mouth.

Tongues of fire.

And you didn’t stop there. I turned on the TV this morning and heard another message about words. The broadcast was a re-run. I had seen and heard this one before too, but you knew it would fit the theme of what you’re trying to get across to me right now, so you played it again too. You know the story, the one from Acts 16 where a possessed woman was speaking the right words but they were coming from the wrong source and being used for the wrong purpose. Paul and Silas ended up getting thrown in jail because they used your name to cut off her evil source and power. And then Paul and Silas spoke up. In prison, they prayed and sang out loud and the others listened. And lives were changed.

People are listening.

The thing is, I’m more comfortable with the listening part. You know better than anyone that I’m basically a quiet person. I am a bit noise intolerant. I don’t like the volume level on the TV very loud and I don’t like my music loud. I don’t do a lot of talking. Silence doesn’t bother me. You know all that. My ears are my dominant sensory organ. So why do you keep bringing up the issue with my mouth?

You don’t seem to want to let me forget what happened a couple of weeks ago when there were extra people at my house. They brought a significant amount of their own personal drama with them. I tried to do what I thought was the best thing by keeping my mouth shut and just listening as they all worked through their issues that were really none of my business anyway.

You know better than any of us that they were struggling with a decision that would affect several lives. You and I had several conversations about them and I asked you to show up in their lives and speak to them so that they could hear and respond.

They were in a vulnerable state and I didn’t want to inappropriately influence any decision they might make. You knew that too. I tried very hard to look for the positives in it all and to speak only those things or else just be quiet.

But after about the second day, something happened. We sat through an entire meal without me saying a word. Then, the control was no longer mine and you took over. Words started coming out of my mouth that had not been processed through my read and re-read schedule yet. The words were not planned or premeditated even though I’d had a couple of days to mull it over. They just came out.

They were words of hope when there seems to be no hope. They were words about how much Jesus loved us to sacrifice his life for us. They were words of your awesomeness beyond our comprehension. They were words about your covenant love.

I have no idea what I said. I just know that it was you and not me.

You used me. You used me because I let you take over. I see now that that is what you are after. It thrills me that you can do something so amazingly loud with my quiet-natured self.

I want that every day. It scares me to death, but I want it.

There.

I said it.

Out loud.

I want it. All the time. I want it.

To your praise and glory. Amen.

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" Romans 10:14-15

Today

My friend tells me that she did NOT understand my last post. Never fear, my sweet friend, I think you got it more than you realized. The idea of the previous post was just how confusing all these words we use can be. So, if by the end of it you were confused, you got it!

Today, let's simplify.

Here are a couple of sentences from a Bible study I'm working on (Discerning the Voice of God by Priscilla Shirer)

The Enemy's discouraging voice tells us what we could do "if."
The voice of God tells us what we should do NOW.

The Enemy's voice will focus on the past and the future while the voice of our God will focus on today. He is the God of right now.

Today, what do you think about that?

Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong. Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few. Ecclesiastes 5:1-2

WYSIWYG ASAP AYS

I think the Hardees sign in the previous post (which is physically right across the street from my office, so I see it every day, several times a day) has bent my brain on the word thing again.

I think I mentioned before about my subscription to Dictionary.com’s Word of the Day (alas, in a post about another fast food sign!). Words amaze and amuse me. It is, after all, the main way we communicate. It is fascinating to me how what we hear sends signals to our brain which causes us to understand someone or something.

I know there are other methods to get your point across. Words, even though they are often misunderstood and abused, are by far the most effective and efficient way. (again, the Hardees sign says way more than just “try our new hamburger”).

You can learn a lot about how things are written.

For instance, I don’t have children, but if I did I don’t think I would want to take them to a day care or preschool that has spellings like “kidz” or “kollege” or “skool” in their names. I know they’re trying to be cute, but learning your ABCs and forming them into words is difficult enough without daily reinforcement of the incorrect way.

And by hard enough I mean that, even after 4 years of college and having a job as a copywriter, there are some spellings and pronunciations that bewilder me.

For example.

Onion is pronounced UHN-YUN

Based on that, the word “on” might should be pronounced “uhn” instead of “awn”.

Other words that begin with that same sound, “uhn”: unknown, unleash, uneasy, ungrateful…

Oh, but wait. Those are words that begin with a “U”, not an “O” like onion.

If we spelled it like we pronounce it, the word that is the moniker for that pungent bulb that makes us cry when it chop it up, would be union.

But we have another pronunciation and meaning for that word, union (YOON-YUHN).

Is there wearing anybody else out?

No wonder we’ve resorted to reducing polysyllabic words down to a couple of letters for the sake of saving time and money. AKA text messaging.

Talk about confusing.

Did you know there are websites that will translate your words into a text message? Ahh, but do you have to spell it correctly first in order for it to translate correctly? ( http://www.lingo2word.com/index.php )


IDK


WC

Well, then, NM

Tigger started it with his TTFN. He most likely got his start at Kidz Kollege.


I too will have my say; I too will tell what I know. For I am full of words, and the spirit within me compels me; inside I am like bottled-up wine, like new wineskins ready to burst. Job 32:17-19

Say what?

OK, so I'm still having a hard time getting back into the swing of things since my little mini-vacation to visit my sisters. Usually I can stay pretty focused. That is, if I've got something to focus on. But the past few days I've found that I'd rather think about laughing with my sisters and all my pretty, new clothes. Never mind the pile of work on my desk.

My distraction has also spilled over into my blog time.

Most people update their blogs every day. Imagine that (maybe one day I'll get there!). And, I usually read them every day. In trying to catch up on some of the posts I missed while I was away playing, I read this All Access post.

In my state of distraction, I was intrigued by the picture at the bottom of the post there.

Here it is:



You can click on the image and it will open a larger version so you can get a good look.

It was created at Wordle. Again, being so easily led astray lately, I just had to go there myself and create my own.

I typed the the URL of my blog. It takes the top 150 words in the blog and the more often a word is used, the larger it shows up in the picture. Here's what my blog is saying about me today:




I had no idea I could be summed up like that. Hmmm.


Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong. Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few. As a dream comes when there are many cares, so the speech of a fool when there are many words. Ecclesiastes 5: 1-3

Oh, My Word...

I subscribe to Dictionary.com Word of the Day. Every day they send out an email featuring a word along with its definition and a couple of quotes in which the word is used. Sometimes it is a word I already know; sometimes it is a word I think I know but after reading the definition realize I do not. At any rate, it is one of those daily emails I enjoy receiving because every now and then I learn something new. However, I do not think I will use many of those words on any kind of regular basis. I mean, why would I describe something as "recherche" if it is exotic or rare? I would just say it was exotic or rare. Still, it's kind of a daily game for me to see if I can find a use for the word during the day. I usually don't, and I've forgotten the word by the time the next day's email shows up.

Scott is equally amused by words. I see it manifested in him as he leads choir rehearsal. In singing, holding out notes while joining the ending of one word with the beginning syllable of the next word can be tricky sometimes. When Scott tries to explain this technique to our choir, he often ends up making up new words. For instance, "was lost" becomes "waaa slohst." 'Waaa' would be the word on the note held out; 'slohst' would be the word on the quick, short note (think of the lyrics of Amazing Grace). After these funny sounding words come out of his mouth, he will then offer some wild explanation about its origin, like, it's an old Yiddish term that means your grandmother smells like a goat.

Scott also finds comedy in words on signs. If a sign is illuminated but a letter is burned out, he will read the word out loud pronouncing it using only the letters that are lit. For example, if the 'M' were burned out, he would read it as "Wal art." Then he will make up a story about all the lovely art they sell over at Wal's place. Clever, he is.

Since I'm in daily contact with the folks at Dictionary.com, and because I sit under the tutelage of such an enlightened and creative minister of music, and since I passed the English 101 exemption test in college, I feel sure my grasp of grammar is secure. Here's my rationalization to prove it...

Dictionary.com defines the word 'ire' as intense anger or wrath. Using the common rules of English grammar, adding an 'i - n - g' to a word often changes a noun to a verb. If you add and 'i - n - g ' to the word 'ire' (and, of course, dropping the silent e --another English grammar sticking point), you get 'iring.' Which, I would assume and conclude, would mean 'angering' or 'making someone really mad.'

So, imagine what I thought when I saw that word on a sign this week.

At least they're honest about their customer service. Or lack thereof.

Now, lest you begin to think of me as a garrulous polyglot , I will cease my spewing. At least until the next Word of the Day shows up in my inbox.

Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one. Matthew 5:37