Keeping the Sabbath

As I've been reading through The Chronological Bible this year, I've been struck by the emphasis on keeping the Sabbath. Over and over again throughout the Old Testament, God chastised His people for failing to keep the Sabbath. (Nehemiah 13:13-21 & Ezekiel 20:12-24)

Isaiah even mentioned that there was a blessing for keeping the Sabbath: "Blessed is the one who does this— the person who holds it fast, who keeps the Sabbath without desecrating it, and keeps their hands from doing any evil.” Isaiah 56:2

And this emphasis on the Sabbath carried over to the New Testament:  "There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works, just as God did from his." Hebrews 4:9-10

This isn't the first time I've felt a prompting about observing the Sabbath.  I read a great book on observing Sabbath rest and tried to incorporate that into my life, as I wrote about here.

But somehow, I let it slip away. I let Sunday become just another day for doing chores and running errands after church. And I didn't notice for a while that the hurried feeling I was experiencing during the week corresponded to having let my Sabbath rest slip away.

One of the key things that our pastor has preached on since starting this new church is that observing the Sabbath can be like a "snow day" (a time of rest spent with family or friends, enjoying God's creation without having places to rush to) and that we can have a "snow day" every week if we will set aside time and observe the Sabbath.

I've been reconvicted that it is important for me to NOT treat this day as just another day. It is holy and set apart.  It's about trusting God with my time and about realizing that my errands and chores can wait.  It's also about reconizing that the Sabbath was designed to honor God and to provide rest.  Soul rest.  And I know I could always use more of that.

It's been almost a month of Sundays now since I set out to observe the Sabbath, and I see a difference.  I don't have strict rules because that's not what this is about.  Instead, it's about being intentional with my time--giving my time as an offering--and being willing to see how He wants me to spend it.  It's a "restful journey," which won't make sense until you try it.  So join me next Sunday and see what you think.

Summer Wrap-Up

A few weeks ago, I posted on here about how the summer was flying by and how I wanted to make sure that I didn't miss out. I included a link to a list of "101 Bits of Summer Fun," and I used that as my springboard. Since then, I've managed to have quite a few bits of summer fun. Here are some from the list:

*Stay up late (I did this several times in order to finish books.)

*Read a book, or seven (See the right-hand margin for recent reads.)

*Write a letter

*Plant something (Unfortunately, the hibiscus had a short life due to the drought, but most of the vinca is still thriving.)

*Eat breakfast for dinner

*Go to the library (I checked out The Mountain Between Us.)

*Take a class (I took 2 at Arthur Murray--thanks to a Groupon--and learned how to waltz!)

*Sing a song (I did this in the car, but I counted it.)

And then, I made up some of my own:

*Attend worship led by Kari Jobe (Amazing!)

*Plan a reunion with my small group (We met for dinner each month, which was a lot of fun.)

*Attend the opening night of The Help (This was worth going on a week night!)

*Try a new restaurant during restaurant week (Eddie V's in Dallas was fantastic!)

*Attend the Longhorn Rally at Joe T's (It was fun to see all the burnt orange and get an update from Coach Brown on what to expect this season.)

I'm blaming this summer's record heat for the fact that I didn't attempt more. Most nights, after walking in the 110-degree heat from the building to the parking garage and climbing the stairs several flights, I just wanted to come home and sit under a fan. So next summer, or maybe even this fall, I'll be a little more proactive and reach out to others by working in a soup kitchen, baking cupcakes for neighbors, or taking books to the children's hospital.

Peace in Austin

The traffic southbound on I-35 is always a nightmare, but the three hours are worth the stress once I arrive in Austin. Every time I arrive, a sense of peace settles on me.

I can't explain why Austin has this effect on me. I don't know if it's because it was the first place I lived on my own after college. Or if it's because it has the best restaurants in the whole state. Or if it's because my favorite football team is there. Or if it's because it's close enough to home to feel like I'm with my family. Whatever the reason, I try and find opportunities to get to Austin whenever I can.


[The view from my hotel room was a view of the building I worked in many moons ago.]

I was just there at the end of May through the beginning of June, but I took the opportunity to spend the night there on my way to a conference in San Antonio. And while I was in Austin, I managed to try a few new places.

First stop on this trip = Lunch at La Patisserie, which has earned rave reviews for their macarons. The lady at the counter was the friendliest cashier I've ever met, and she was thrilled that I correctly identified their sweets as "macarons," not "macaroons."





After some shopping at Kendra Scott and a few of the vintage shops on South Congress, the heat demanded that I make a stop at Sno Beach. There's a reason that Austinites mark their calendar each spring for the opening day of this place.





Dinner was take-out from Hyde Park Bar & Grill, known for their fries, and then I also grabbed some breakfast treats from Quack's Bakery for the next morning.



I got to hear the executive pastor from Mars Hill preach at The Austin Stone, and then I headed to Driftwood, Texas, to grab a bite to eat at the world famous Salt Lick BBQ. The BBQ lived up to its legendary status, but I wasn't a fan of their sauce.



After more stressful southbound I-35 driving, I arrived in San Antonio, right when the Cowboys were there. They were staying at the Grand Hyatt, while I was at the Hyatt Regency. Their buses were visible at all times, and they received a police escort whenever they traveled throughout the city.



The best part of the conference was catching up with two of my grad school friends and trying new restaurants with them. Here we are at Paloma Blanca after eating some great fish tacos and delicious tres leches cake:



Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures when we were at Paesano's, Druther's Cafe & Catering, Dough, or Tre. But I did snap a photo at Boudro's of the chicken with guacamole risotto, which the waiter told me not to get because he thought I should get a steak:



It was absolutely delicious! And I'm glad we ignored all of his dessert recommendations.

On the way back, Austin called my name again. This time, I tried my first trailer food in the form of cupcakes from Hey Cupcake.





And when I returned, I went on a diet. THE END.

Hitting One Thousand

It's been right at seven months, and I've hit 1,000. One thousand gifts, that is.

I haven't been good about posting each gift here. Part of that is heat-induced laziness, and part of that is intentional because some of the gifts are too personal and make sense only to me.

But even when I wasn't posting them, I was capturing them in my spiral. And more importantly, I was on the lookout for the gifts throughout my days. The discipline is now firmly ingrained in my daily routine.

And since I'm not up for retyping all the easy-to-understand gifts sans the too-personal gifts, I thought I'd post a list of what I've learned from this discipline:

1. Some days, gifts are easy to spot; some days, they aren't.
For whatever reason, I have an easier time spotting gifts when I do things outside my daily routine, like taking a trip or going to a new event. But without fail, I spot a few gifts every day.

2. I really like food.
More of my gifts revolve around food than I'd like to admit. I'm thinking that it had something to do with the fact that I had the chance to try a lot of new restaurants this summer. And in my dreams, I'm a restaurant reviewer.

3. My list of gifts has become a great place for jotting down and remembering answered prayers.
I love being able to capture God at work like this.

4. Waking without an alarm clock (i.e., getting to sleep in) came up as a gift about every weekend.
I realize that if I had children, this would be a rarity. And so I view it as a gift.

5. Messages from family and friends via mail, email, text, and phone are not taken for granted.
God often encourages me through my family and friends, and I treasure that.

6. I should never admit that I love numbers or was once good at math.
I looked back at the list a few months ago and caught this: 343, 345, 344, 345, 346. So, it's possible that I hit 1,000 a long time ago and just have it misnumbered.

7. I still need to work on viewing the hard times as eucharisteo and giving thanks and capturing it among my gifts.

I'm already working on my next 1,000 gifts and hope you are continuing on this journey or will start if you haven't already.

A Turning Point

It's been almost three months now without Annie. During this time, I've been adjusting to a new normal. One that is filled with a lot more silence but not nearly as much emptiness as I'd expected.

God has been so gracious to comfort me in a hundred ways that I never could have imagined. I've also felt a tugging reminding me that I need to seek comfort from Him when things upset me, which is when I normally would have turned to Annie. I didn't realize how often I looked to her for comfort, but now I'm keenly aware of it.

The time without her has not all been easy. Tears slide down my cheeks at unsuspecting moments, often right before bed. And there have been times when I've had to interrupt my autopilot to remind myself that routines have changed in her absence.

Part of me really wants to adopt another Golden right now. I've allowed myself to check the website for rescue Goldens, but in my heart, I know that now isn't the time. I'm trying to pay off some bills, but more than that, I want to get into the habit of turning to God instead of to a pet or a person for comfort. I would love for that to be my default before I adopt another dog. And I'm praying for God to show me whether it's wise for me to adopt again since I know that Annie will be the standard to which all other dogs will be compared.

So there's a lot of heart work going on right now. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. It just takes time to turn from old ways.

Summer Time

Despite having been out of grad school for 11 years now, I still miss the feel of summer breaks. I think after all those years of schooling, my body got into a rhythm of studying hard and knowing that there'd be mandatory respites carved into the calendar.

Now, summers are usually one of the busiest times at work, and I seldom take off for a real break without combining it with a continuing education seminar. And so it feels like summers just slip away.

But I've realized that I need to make my own "summer time." Even if I can't take three months off, I can still enjoy summer's fun activities. I just need to be more intentional about scheduling them on evenings and weekends.

And while I was pondering this, I came across this list of "101 Bits of Summer Fun," thanks to Ann Voskamp, and had the perfect starting point. I love that the list includes service-oriented bits of fun, like taking books to a children's hospital, working in a soup kitchen, and taking cookies to a fire station. I've picked out some of the "bits" from the list and added some of my own.

I've penned the date-specific activities on the calendar and the rest I'll pick and choose from each week. I'm hoping that these last eight weeks of summer don't speed by as quickly as the first four did!

Redeemer

I've seen how God has redeemed marriages that looked like there was no way they would survive. I've also seen how He has redeemed certain dates on the calendar--replacing the anniversary of a friend's divorce with a new proposal and changing a date marked to remember a death to a date to celebrate the life of a newborn. But I never suspected He would redeem other insignificant events.

Remember back when I tried to go to a Green River Ordinance concert but couldn't make myself go in because there were no assigned seats? If not, the recap is here.

Not too long after that, I heard that GRO was playing a free concert at a church here in town on a Friday evening. One band was going to open for them, and then GRO was going to take the stage about 8 p.m. I knew that after a long day at work, it would be hard to stay for long after 8 p.m., but I thought I'd at least get to hear a few of their songs.

On the night of the concert, to my delight, they announced that GRO would be playing first. I was able to see their whole show for free. It may seem small and insignificant, but to me, it was a reminder that God sees and hears our smallest desires. It was a redeeming concert just for me, by His grace alone.

The Gifts of Family, Food, & Fun

Though I haven't blogged about it recently, my list of gifts continues. The list grew exponentially after spending the past week with my family.

Getting to see both my mom and sister other than the holidays is a treat because our work schedules don't always coincide. But the extra planning that went into getting us together for the week of Memorial Day was well worth it. I only wish there were more pictures to capture all the gifts we shared over this week.

771. Safe, timely travel by train

772. Laughter with Mom and Erin

...

775. Games with family

...

777. Family nap time

778. Homemade chocolate chess pie

779. Watching Tiffany D make-up videos with Erin

...

781. Getting an eye appointment with my childhood optometrist and eye drops that cure eye infections

782. Skip Bo at Nona's

783. Thank-you text from a friend

784. Going through childhood jewelry boxes to find "treasures" like old fortunes from Chinese restaurants

...

786. Rolling Erin's hair on hot rollers

787. Erin applying my make-up

...

789. Fish tacos at the lake



790. Hotel room with perfect view of the Austin bats (only we never saw them!)

791. Breakfast at Trio with pancakes that Wolfgang Puck raved about

792. Whipped sweet potatoes from Galaxy Cafe

793. Home Slice Pizza

794. Catching up with Erin's friend

795. Sustaining energy to attend conference despite lack of sleep, a rash, a fever, and a raging sinus infection

...

797. Awesome lunch at East Side Cafe

798. Safe travel from Austin back to hometown

...

800. Sleeping in my childhood bed

801 & 802. Wearing hats to a tea and hearing stories of redemption at the Christian Women's Job Corps



803. More games

804. Safe travel back

...

806 807. Having a friend pick me up at the train station and bringing me home so that I wouldn't have to face an empty house (1st trip since Annie passed away)

The Path

On April 1, 2010, a friend showed me this path, and we walked it together. I thought it was going to do me in with all its steep inclines. Despite the fact that the path is replete with numerous hills and that the temperature was hot most of the time, I walked this path over and over again last year until it got too cold to walk or college football season started, I can't remember which.

I started walking this path at a time when I felt like my life was stagnating, and this path let me think things through. It was a constant that could have felt repetitive as the path didn't change day after day, but there was such a sense of completion in walking the 3.4 miles up and down those hills. That path became a great reminder that sometimes we are supposed to just keep walking the path, even when it feels circular, as we wait on God.

Instead of a circular path, you might be traveling a steep path in your own life right now. But I would encourage you to stay on it until you hear God directing you to go another way, and hold onto these Truths as you walk your path:

My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled. Psalm 17:5

You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. Psalm 16:11

He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake. Psalm 23:3

In all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:6

And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, received the promise. Hebrews 6:15

The Safe Life

Do you ever find something that you've written in the past and wonder how you lost the passion for the topic you wrote about? Over the weekend, I sifted through drafts of blog posts that were half written but never finished. This one caught my attention and demanded to be finished. So here's a blog post I started back in January.

Now that Francis Chan is back in the States, I've been listening to a lot of his sermons. Several months ago, I saw a link on a blog to a sermon Chan gave in 2006, and it describes me to a T:



For whatever reason, I was not born with a sense of adventure. It takes a lot for me to try new things. This was a positive as a teenager because I was not bullied by peer pressure. But on the negative side, I've lived a pretty routine, safe life.

But lately, I keep reading books and hearing sermons on how life wasn't meant to be lived safely, all cocooned away.

Chan preached at Passion 2011 in Atlanta on Philippians 1:27: "Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel."

He talked about how he questioned whether he was living a life worthy of the Gospel and put the Bible on one side of an old-fashioned balance and used the other side to weigh his life. He ultimately concluded that he needed to go to Asia to see how courageous Christians were leading millions of people to Christ, even in the face of being tortured and beaten, because he wanted to know what it takes to have faith like that.

The stories he told upon his return focused on how those Christians in Asia expected persecution and clung to their faith despite whatever was thrown at them. I heard Chan tell some of these same stories at Passion 2011 here in Fort Worth, and they stirred up a sense that the balance is definitely off. When he told those Christians in Asia that we, here in America, aren't persecuted for our faith like they are, they asked why not; they pointed out that the Bible promises persecution for those who believe.

They pose an interesting question. Are we doing something wrong? Are we serving up Gospel-lite instead of the full force of the Gospel (if we are serving any at all)? Are we not living any differently from the world, and so we blend in enough to not be persecuted?

I'd have to say that I'm guilty. Guilty of thinking that a safe life is one that will be rewarded by God. That if I say enough of the "right" prayers, I can stay cocooned away from seeing the tragedies that happen every day. That if I give, I will be excused from going and serving.

But this isn't the Truth.

Instead, the Truth states, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." (James 1:27) And more Truth, "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations." (Matthew 28:19)

This hit my radar in January and, like many things, fell off for months until I saw the draft. I know I have sat idly by for too long. I'm involved in some ministries for orphan, but I've never gone anywhere. Looks like I need to be praying about the where. Even if it's just across town to the parts that I usually don't travel to. That would be a start in taking baby steps away from the cocoon.

Life at the Diamonds

Many who live in Cowtown have no clue of the buzz of activity that goes on down a remote road near I-35. Even after you turn off on Old Hemphill Road, you might think you've turned onto the wrong street. But less than a half a mile down, the cars lining the road will clue you in that you've come to the right place.

Boys and girls with gloves and bats file into the gates and head toward their assigned field. They have to weave in and out of kids standing in the concessions line and dodge baseballs that are being pitched back and forth to warm up before a game.

If you are able to zigzag through all the above activity and make your way to the peewee field, the pint-sized players with their uniforms on, especially those with pink bats and helmets, will steal your heart. Some are more serious about the game than others, or at least as serious as their attention span will allow.

The seven-year-old team has seen its share of hard times this season. They are a young team that's had to face some stiff competition. Hits are hard to come by, and so are plays to get three outs on the other team. Sometimes the excitement of grabbing the ball boils over into throwing too hard, and a base hit turns into a double or a triple. Thankfully, losses seem to be easily overcome with after-the-game snacks from the concession stand.

But this little locale has more than just a few games going on. There's a lot of life being lived between the plays. As parents catch up with one another, wisdom and encouragement are served up left and right. One man shares pictures on his ipad of his son meeting Colt McCoy at an event earlier in the week and shows how his daughter was featured at the event. A mother tells about her trip to New Mexico that made her miss last week's game, but another mother is quick to fill her in on the fantastic play her son made. After the game, parents mingle with the parents of the older kids and cheer on their children, exchanging parenting advice in between plays.

Even as fun as it is to watch these young kiddos playing America's favorite pasttime, it's just as fun (and more beautiful) to watch this little community doing life together.

Trusting His Love & His Plans

Back on Easter Sunday, our pastor taught on how God's plans are better than our own, and his wife, my friend Krista, shared her personal story of walking through infertility and trusting God through the adoption process. She was kind enough to write out her remarks, and you can read them here.

The parts of her story that grabbed my attention were (1) how her Sunday school teacher challenged her class with how their view of God might change if they didn't get married or have children and (2) how Krista later responded by writing out Psalm 136 in her own way as a reminder of God's enduring love for her, no matter her circumstances.

I took the challenge to do the same.

If I never get married,
His love endures forever.

If I never have children,
His love endures forever.

If I never adopt another dog,
His love endures forever.

If my mother dies during my lifetime,
His love endures forever.

If my sister dies during my lifetime,
His love endures forever.

If I get cancer,
His love endures forever.

If I get a crippling disease,
His love endures forever.

If I suffer pain daily,
His love endures forever.

If I lose my job and benefits,
His love endures forever.

If I lose my house and belongings,
His love endures forever.

If I become poor financially,
His love endures forever.

If I am ridiculed and mistreated,
His love endures forever.

If my reputation is trashed,
His love endures forever.

If I have no friends,
His love endures forever.

If I can’t deliver on my promises,
His love endures forever.

If a crime is perpetrated against me or my family,
His love endures forever.

If the world around me is chaos,
His love endures forever.

And even if I don’t feel His love,
His love endures forever.

To be honest, I need to repeat those lines every day for my heart to get in sync with them because I'm not all the way there yet. I'm kind of like the father in Mark 9:24 who says, "Lord I believe; help my unbelief."

I'm glad I wrote these out and challenge you to do the same.

My Comforter

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4 (NIV)


In the midst of grieving Annie's loss, I have said over and over, "God is amazing!" And I've meant it. He has been my Comforter in so many ways over the past several weeks.

Every day since Annie's death, God has used people in my life to shower me with His love. I have received countless texts, phone calls, emails, comments on her tribute, and cards that have been a balm for my hurting heart. And then, on top of all those comforting words from precious friends, He provided good gifts: dinner brought to me, beautiful plants, a tree planted in Annie's honor, dinner at a friend's house, memorials made in Annie's honor, the book Dog Heaven, a painting, a cross, a box of new clothes (to make up for those I returned to pay for part of Annie's medical bills), and a dog ornament.















Even today, more than two weeks later, two friends came up to me at church to comfort me on Annie's loss.

I share these things as an example of how God has shown me His presence steadily in such tangible ways. In every way, these gifts have not been about me or anything I've done; they've been grace gifts. I have been humbled by them and have been reminded that God has surrounded me with the most thoughtful friends, who teach me daily about what it looks like to love others well.

Father God, You alone are my Comforter. Thank You for showing me Your love in more ways than I could have ever imagined. May others who are experiencing loss and pain feel your tangible presence in their lives. Amen.

One Thousand Gifts in One

I've learned through my sweet dog Annie that sometimes God gives us multiple gifts all rolled into one. And that when God takes away that one gift, you lose so much more than just the one.

Mom had always said that dogs smelled, and so we never had a dog while I was growing up. When I bought my house in 2003, high on the priority list was a house with a fenced-in yard so that I could get a dog. I eased my way in at first, renting my upstairs to a gal who had a dog.

When they moved out in February 2004, I was officially ready to adopt my first-ever dog. I completed the adoption paperwork for Rescue Goldens of DFW and waited. I kept seeing profiles of great dogs online and called to check on their statuses. The behaviorist who matches Goldens with future owners told me, "You don't want the dogs we have right now; they're too hyper." Finally, the week of March 16, 2004, I received notice that I had been matched with five-year-old Annie, who had been dropped off by a family who gave her up because her nails scratched their hardwood floors. The following Saturday on March 21, a friend drove me to Carrollton to meet my forever dog, and it was not only worth the wait but love at first sight! I never imagined getting to have such a pretty dog.

Upon arriving at my house, Annie scoped it out, peed upstairs, and started carrying around the toys I had bought for her, so I figured that was a good sign that she would keep me. That first night, I had no idea what to do. I didn't own a crate. I just brought her in the bedroom, told her goodnight, and said, "I hope you know what you're supposed to do." She did. She curled up in a corner and let me sleep all night, every night thereafter (as long as it wasn't thundering).



It quickly became apparent that her feet didn't do well on my ceramic tile flooring. So my mom searched online and found some dog boots with grippers. We started out with a cheap pair to see if she'd actually keep them on, and after realizing that biting them only meant she bit her foot, she accepted them. She even recognized that she needed them and would bring them to me in the mornings to put them on so that she could walk off the bedroom carpet steadily onto the ceramic tile in the rest of the house. Her red boots were her trademark, and everyone recognized her because of them.



It was obvious from the start that we were two peas in a pod. We both fought drippy noses constantly and battled GI issues. We both loved being at home, just relaxing. And we were both a bit fearful of storms, and when the doorbell would ring unexpectedly, we'd glance at each other as if to say, "Are we brave enough to answer that?"

Early on, we also realized that we didn't know how to communicate with one another. She'd go stand at the door to go potty, but if I wasn't in the kitchen, I had no idea that's what she wanted. So, she would come over right beside me and lick me or look at me and lick the furniture. I'd ask if she wanted to go potty, and she always did. Though sometimes it was merely a ploy to go outside and let the wind blow through her hair.



Our limited communication besides the licking consisted of a few core words that every dog should know: walk, go (her favorite word), ride, boots, babies, sit, vote, and God. She recognized all of those, but I can't speak for her complete understanding of them.

There were so many times that I wished she could speak. She listened to so much from me and just took it in. But there was never a time when I wished for more communication from her than in the past twenty-four hours.

After a week that started with a ride to Glamour Paws for a bath and haircut and after fetching her baby numerous times on Wednesday night, I came home on Thursday evening to find her not acting like herself. She didn't bring her baby to greet me and went straight to her water bowl. She drained it 1.5 times. She wasn't interested in going potty, which she had never turned down. After coaxing her outside, she went potty and then her legs seemed to give out. She eventually walked back inside, laid down for a bit, and then went back outside and stood with the wind blowing through her hair for about 5 minutes. After resting for a while, she tried to get up, but her legs wouldn't work. She eventually collapsed and vomited. After finding a neighbor to put her in the car, I rushed her to the emergency clinic where her symptoms were a bit of a mystery. Blood work showed that her counts were bad (high white cell count, low platelet count, and others I don't remember). It appeared that there was an infection, an immune system disorder, kidney failure, and possibly internal bleeding.

A night on an iv, antibiotics, and steroids didn't improve the counts. When I went to see her this morning, she was completely lethargic and mostly nonresponsive, though she made eye contact with me. But right as I was about to make "the decision," she rallied and raised her head and wagged her tail every time I said "potty." Unfortunately, she couldn't stand and wouldn't potty when carried out, and she wouldn't eat. But due to her rally, I requested that the nightly regimen be continued in hopes of a more definitive answer.

Around 4:30, the blood work showed that she was only getting worse, with the potential of bleeding to death. That was the definitive, though unwanted, answer I needed to hear.

I held her sweet head in my hands and looked into her big brown eyes for over an hour and told her over and over what a sweet dog she was, how blessed I was to have had her in my life, and how much I was going to miss her. She took it in, never losing my gaze, and sighing several times in, what I interpreted as, agreement. I kissed the bridge of her nose and stroked her fur until the time came.

I hope I don't remember that last part, as peaceful as it was. I pray to only remember the incredible seven years that she served as my faithful companion and friend:

--How I tried to take in everything this past Christmas because I sensed that it might be the last one with her;
--How she responded with such intrigue when Mom blew her shofar and how she would hunt for it in the closet after Mom put it away;
--How she always went to sleep in the corner but then moved to the closet after I turned off the lights;



--How she loved to lie in my spot on the bed until it was time for me to go to bed and how thankful I was that she warmed that spot for me during the cold winters;



--How she loved to put her head on pillows and sleep on them;



--How much she loved sitting on the first couch I had and taking it over as hers;
--How much I enjoyed watching her watch TV and responding to the recorded sounds of doorbells and crying babies as if the sounds were real;
--How she bathed just like a cat and how much I loved to watch her wash her face with her paws;
--How she never begged at the table for food as she was content as long as she got to smell it;
--How she often chose to use the table as a tunnel and walk right under it between the chairs;
--How she would stand at attention near the refrigerator when it was open in hopes of receiving yogurt or canned dog food;
--How she always came to the kitchen when she heard the sound of a can being opened with the manual can opener;
--How she was shy as soon as I pulled out a camera;
--How she hated the sound of the batteries being changed in the smoke detectors and how I tried to change them when she was outside;
--How all of my friends always asked how she was doing;
--How much she loved her moose "baby" and how gently she treated all of her toys, which never wore out;
--How I missed her every time I boarded her and looked forward to coming back so I could pick her up;
--How well she rode in the car, making road trips of 4.5 hours and longer seem like a breeze;
--How she had the softest fur on her head and the cutest curly hair on her ears;
--How she ALWAYS came when I called her;
--How she always licked her left paw after eating peanut butter, as if to save some for later;
--How she enjoyed carrying part of the mail in the house;
--How she would come check on me when I was getting ready in the mornings;
--How she expected a walk every time she saw my tennis shoes;
--How she loved to wear bandanas that my mom made for her;
--How she hunted for geckos every time we got back from a walk because they seemed to hang out near the front door;
--How she pointed when she saw a squirrel or a rabbit;



--How she loved to hunt at the back door for squirrels, rabbits, and cats;



--How she only barked in her sleep;
--How she put on a rodeo show every time we went upstairs, showing agility and energy that didn't seem possible for her age;
--How she used her tail as a drum when I would sing;
--How she would let me brush her teeth;
--How tickled she would get when I brushed her;
--How she let me push the snooze button, over and over, sighing only occasionally to show her discontent;
--How we referred to the house as "Annie's house" because it was hers as she was the Alpha dog;
--How she would wear my glasses with pride;



--How she rescued her babies, the remote, and any shoes left out in the den to the bedroom every night;
--How our motto of "Annie hair is everywhere" helped break me of perfectionist tendencies in cleaning my home;
--How there were always kisses for Annie;
--How she danced with Uncle B;
--How she never met a repairman she didn't want to play with her;
--How she never could contain her enthusiasm (a/k/a jumping) when she greeted people at the door;
--How she played with her old boots as toys;
--How she would get out the football toy to play with on Saturdays during college football games;
--How the sound of keys jingling would make her come running with a concerned look on her face of "please don't leave";
--How she danced in place to show that she wanted to go for a ride;
--How she would raise her ears and hold her breath when she recognized a word;
--How she couldn't resist licking lotion on people's legs;
--How she taught me that sighing and stretching are good things;
--How she loved my mom and sister and how they loved her;
--How she always missed me and welcomed me home, even if I was gone just a minute;
--How consistent she was;
--How I could trust her around children and furniture because she wasn't a biter; and
--How she trained me to take care of her.

Pictures of her are proudly displayed on my mantle, my desks, and my phone, but more importantly, they are carved on my heart. She was a one-of-a-kind sweetheart, my brown-eyed girl, whom I dearly miss already. I'm so grateful God placed her in my life and let me love on her for seven years; I only wish that she could have stayed forever. Because Annie was so much more than a single grace gift, her loss is hard to bear. I think this is what Ann Voskamp calls the ugly beautiful.



Annie
Born: February 1, 1999
Adopted: March 21, 2004
Went to Heaven: April 15, 2011

Rejuvenated

A few weeks back after enduring a busy season at work, I decided it was time for a little getaway for some R&R. Ideally, the introvert in me would like to hole up in a secluded bed and breakfast in a really small town (like Round Top) and read for about a week. But that didn't fit into my schedule. I opted instead for an overnight trip to Austin.

And decided to try out this new place.

After brunch and much people watching at Austin Java, I headed to Luxe Apothetique to get my "hair did" by the fabulous Martha Lynn Barnes. After a quick change, I had dinner at Moonshine Patio Bar & Grill with these sweet friends, whom I met in Austin fifteen years ago.

As much as I love the view of Austin in the daytime, I also love this:

After such a full day, it was time to take advantage of

and this

and to enjoy this

Beautiful accomodations!

The best part was the free full breakfast at the hotel's restaurant Trace. After that, I made my way around street closures due to a race and headed to worship at The Austin Stone. I grabbed brunch at Santa Rita with another sweet friend (we failed to snap a picture), and then I hit the road back to pick up this sweet gal from her retreat:

After this trip, I've learned that one of my love languages is retreating to a nice hotel. Gary Chapman might need to add that to the five that he came up with.

Door Holding

If someone asks me years from now what I did April 1-3, 2011, I may not remember those dates because time seemed to stand still then. But if someone asks me years from now if I was at Passion 2011, I will respond with "absolutely!"

I've never attended a Passion Conference as an attendee. But after listening online to the Passion 2011 Conference held in Atlanta in January, I knew I wanted to be part of it--as a volunteer since I've "aged out" as an attendee--when it came to Cowtown. The messages preached by Andy Stanley, Francis Chan, and Louie Giglio back in January were so relevant and applicable that I wanted to hear more.

So I signed up online to volunteer, not knowing in what capacity I would serve. I just wanted to be a part of this ministry that is changing college students' lives and empowering them to reach others for Christ on their campuses. I figured that I would be placed on the prayer team or the registration team, but I received an email that I would be serving on the Touch Team.

Until I reported on April 1, I had no idea what that really meant. That morning, Shelley Giglio read Psalm 84:10, "Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked." She explained that all volunteers at Passion are called "Door Holders" because we have seen God's glory and want to open the door to let others see His glory as well.

As we broke into our specific teams to find out our assignments, I learned that I would be working the arena and would be able to hear all of the music and the messages; this was an amazing gift because they had prayed over us the night before for a humble spirit, knowing that many who served would not get to hear even a minute of what goes on during the conference.

Once in the arena, I requested to work at one of the portal entrances where they needed someone who was "friendly but enforcing" to keep people out of the area due to some sort of restrictions. I asked whether I was allowed to let those with "all access" passes into that area and was told that was okay but that I probably wouldn't have to worry about that unless a production crew member needed in. Several of the volunteers pretended to come into the area to test my ability to be "friendly but enforcing," and I passed with flying colors.

Hours later when the conference actually started, my assignment turned out to be a little different. Apparently, our team lead was not given the memo on exactly who would be sitting in sections 101-02 and 201-02. I ended up opening the door hundreds of times for the three days to let in all of the speakers and all of the artists and all of their guests. My co-volunteer decided that he would take the opportunity to touch Francis Chan on the shoulder as he walked by since we were on the Touch Team after all, but I restrained. I didn't know whether I should act like I knew who they were or how to acknowledge them, so I simply smiled widely and opened the door.

Throughout the time I served, I was able to peek in only a few times. Though I could hear everything clearly, from hours of heartfelt worship led by Chris Tomlin, Christy Nockels, Kristian Stanfill, Charlie Hall, and the David Crowder Band to Chan's tearful message to live a life worthy of the Gospel to John Piper's gripping message on how God makes much of us to Louie Giglio's message on carrying the Name, I couldn't see the stage, even though I was at the closest vantage point, because I was outside the entrance. It served as a great reminder to walk by faith not by sight.

As I sat at my post during those three days, I also noticed that the team leaders, most of whom had flown in from Atlanta and the surrounding areas, knew how to serve in ways that I had never witnessed. Throughout the three days, they warned us how draining but filling this time would be, encouraged us, and prayed over us frequently. Their selfless servant hearts taught me more than they will know.

Though I didn't get to see as much of the students as I had hoped, their energy was felt. At one point on Saturday while all of the doors were locked, the noise from the arena was reverberating and causing the doors to come open. And their contagious generosity was a highlight of the weekend as they gave $100,000 in one hour to reach a goal of having 90 Bible stories translated for a group nicknamed the Koso people.

I pray that the message of Passion 2011 will spread rapidly throughout college campuses and that I will continue to be a Door Holder for the rest of my life.

Sharing a Groupon vs. The Gospel

I've been on a Groupon kick lately. It's as if Groupon has read my mind and has been offering deep discounts on restaurants and activities that I've wanted to try for some time. And when I get in on such a great discount, I feel the urge to share the news with others so that they, too, can participate.

As I was driving home one night, this thought hit me: Am I more prone to share a Groupon than the Gospel?

The answer, unfortunately, has been "yes."

I could make a lot of excuses, like that I don't cross paths with a lot of nonbelievers. But that's mainly because I assume a lot of my acquaintances are believers, even though I've never asked them.

Yet, when I send a link about a Groupon, I don't know for sure that the recipient is even interested in the deal, and it's not up to me to convince them that they have to buy it. I only want to share it.

That's how simple it could be to share the Gospel with others. I'm not responsible for the results, only to be obedient to share.

But the truth is that I haven't made it my mission to share the Gospel. And that is appalling because it's only the Gospel that I'm instructed to share and to be a witness of "in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." (Acts 1:8) Only the Gospel can change lives. Only the Gospel has eternal significance.

If I want my friends, acquaintances, and others to experience the benefits of knowing Christ, I, as a believer, MUST share it. This is my mission, and I'm grateful for a church that is reminding and encouraging me week in and week out to build bridges with others and to make Jesus's name known.

"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. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." (John 3:16-17)

A Heavenward Perspective

I confess that there have been times in my life when I've gone days, weeks, and even months without thinking about Heaven. In the past, Heaven came to the forefront of my mind when someone was battling a terminal illness or when Easter was approaching.

But this year has been different. Heaven has constantly been on my mind.

It started a few months ago with hearing Hillsong's "You Hold Me Now." After that, I listened to Matt Carter's sermons on Heaven. He mentioned that his wife had made a playlist on her ipod of songs about Heaven, and that got me on the lookout for more songs focusing on Heaven. Then, I attended a presentation on "Israel in the Crosshairs," and Jesus's return seemed even more imminent. And this past Saturday, I had the opportunity to hear Hillsong live.

I've never experienced anything like that night. From the diverse crowd filled with every nationality imaginable to the unabashed worship with hands raised, I sensed that I was getting a glimpse of Heaven.

As I've continued to count my own One Thousand Gifts, I'm seeing more and more glimpses of Heaven here on earth - gifts that He has put in my path to enjoy here until I get to enjoy the gift of eternal life with Him.

#339 - Being up in time to see beginning of a sunrise

#340 - Feeling of freshly shaved legs (after a long time of not shaving)

. . .

#343 - Sister's prayer for my healing

#344 - Respite from sinus headache

. . .

#346 - Robin eggs and Cadbury Mini Eggs

. . .

#365 - Psalm 91:12's picture of angels lifting us up in their hands

As Lent begins tomorrow, I anticipate that this year my perspective will be a bit different in light of this gift counting. I will continue to focus on the amazing gift that Jesus gave by taking away my sins by dying on the cross, but I also hope to see more and more of the gifts that come from having eyes opened to see the gifts that come daily, not just once a year.

Winners of One Thousand Gifts

Because it was my first giveaway, I decided to change the rules. I decided to "draw" the winners a day early and to reward those who entered. So both commenters will receive a book! Due to the holiday, the books should go out in the mail on Tuesday. Happy reading!

Seeing Is Believing (+ A Giveaway!)

It's the cure for ingratitude. It always precedes the miracle. It leads to joy.

IT is eucharisteo.

I hadn't heard that term before but am so grateful that Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts introduced me to it. What started out as a dare to count 1,000 of the daily gifts from God became a way of life for Ann, and in the process, she traced the roots of eucharisteo not just through her life but through the Bible.


Her book has been described as life-changing. But why? Because taking time to write down the little moments helps us to fully live instead of rush through life. When I write down thanks for pipes not freezing, for the gift of a snow day (or 5) at home, for the super soft fur on my dog's head, it's as if life slows down a bit.


I started listing gifts back at Christmas and just took the time today to number them. There were over 200 gifts that most likely would have slipped away if I hadn't started counting. And in the process, I've discovered what Ann says on page 151 to be true: "Count blessings and discover Who can be counted on." Prior to that, Ann says on page 150 in discussing fear, "Nothing has materialy changed since yesterday's fears, last week's anxiety. But I have. I'm changing."

As one prone to give in to fears, I needed the insight she provided in chapter 8. I needed to be reminded to trust the Bridge Builder and that thanks is what builds trust.

I have never underlined this much in a book that I wasn't going to be tested on. But I want to live out what Ann talks about because her life is not perfect, but it is a beautiful, pure offering - one so opposite from this world - that it draws me in. And I hope it draws you in, as well.

Because I love this book so much, I have already given away two copies, but I bought another to give away here. Just leave a comment telling about one of His special gifts to you, and leave your name so that I can contact you if your name is chosen. I'll draw one person's name at random on Jan. 21.

And as you're reading the book, don't miss the video interviews with Ann here. So far, she has discussed the first two chapters and done an intro. Her passion and excitement in sharing eucharisteo is obvious and contagious. I hope you catch her passion for eucharisteo and start your own list of 1,000+ gifts.

Psalm Devotional - A Sample

I posted a while back about the Psalms devotional book that my writers' group put together, but I failed to give you a sample. So while the electricity is cooperating in the midst of this icy day of rolling power black outs, I thought I'd share one of mine.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! Psalm 100:4 (ESV)

“Father God, forgive me of my sins, protect my family and I throughout the day and night, give us good health, . . . .” The same prayer night after night. The same order, the same basic requests, and the same repetitive words: “me” and “I.”

Delights that just hours earlier I had sworn not to forget went unpraised because I allowed my mind to be consumed with my needs and my desires. I forgot to thank God for the smiles, laughter, and joy he had given me. I neglected to give God the praise that he is due as God, Creator, Lord of lords, and Holy of holies.

Frustrated that my prayers failed to convey my heartfelt praise, I decided to start listing my praises each day before I lifted up my prayers. To help remind me, I use a spiral notebook and write on the top of each page, “Father, I praise You for . . .”; toward the bottom of the page, I write, “Father, I lift up to You . . . .”

This little tool of keeping a praise/prayer journal not only redirected my me-centered prayers, helping me to put the focus back on God by praising him from the start, but also made me on the lookout for God’s handiwork throughout the day. Before I started keeping a daily praise list, a sunset that took my breath away might have lasted only a moment. Now I know I want to record it later in my journal, so I pay more attention to it in the moment. Similarly, an answered prayer does not slip through the cracks of my memory as easily because I have written prayer requests down and can look back through them to note when they are answered.

It took a little work to put into practice Psalm 100:4’s wisdom and to enter his gates with thanksgiving. But now, instead of waiting to thank God until I have spelled out all of my needs and my desires, I look forward to listing my praises first and seeing how they often far outnumber my requests.

Father God, thank You for all the big and little ways that You touch my heart throughout the day. You alone are worthy of all my praise.

What one step could you take to make praising God an integral part of your prayer time? (A few suggestions include memorizing Psalm 100:4, listening to praise music, keeping a list of praises, or beginning your prayers with praise rather than petitions.)

When to Use Words

Why is it that when I want to write, I think long and hard and words barely trickle? But when I speak, words flow too freely, often when they shouldn't flow at all. At least that's the case most of the time.

This past week, the opposite occurred. I went to pay my respects to a family who had lost a loved one, and the words would not come. I didn't know how to sum up the impact of the loved one's life on my own in that short time at the visitation while the line of people behind me grew longer. As the small talk quickly dried up, because it is merely filler to begin with, and the line pressed in, I was thanked for coming. All I could think of to convey my huge heart thoughts was, "He was worth the trip."

In some ways, the tongue-tied-ness fits the situation perfectly. The loved one had made a big impact on my life through his presence, not his words which were mostly few and far between. And there I was trying to show by my presence that his life mattered much.

I think back to those friends of Job and the role that they played in those first seven days. They sat by Job's side without speaking. A ministry of presence. It was when they opened their mouths that things started going downhill.

I am not sure I learned from their example because my lack of words and mere presence didn't seem like enough. I wanted to put words to the feelings I had.

And so I wrote a letter.

I tried to convey that my life was better because I had the opportunity to know this caring man who took the time to acknowledge my presence every time he saw me, spent time patiently trying to correct my golf swing, and loved his family with all of his heart. I tried to pass along how very proud he was of his son as shown by his presence if not by his words. And, above all, I wanted it known I will not forget this loved one.

The words were well received, but I'm not sure they were necessary.

I recall a lawyer friend of mine making a three-hour trip to attend my dad's funeral. She was an assistant district attorney in Houston at the time. The fact that she got someone to cover her docket and that she drove six hours round-trip for a 30-45 minute funeral blew my mind. She hugged me through tears and said nothing, if I recall correctly. Yet, over seven years have passed, and I have never forgoten her act of kindness.

I think a ministry of presence is a powerful thing, sometimes more powerful than words. But I need the wisdom to know which is best in any given circumstance.

[This is my second attempt to participate in the Words Project with Holley & Ann over at A Holy Experience.]

The Christmas Jars - Redux

A couple of you have asked for more details on The Christmas Jars that I posted on. I hesitated to post more on the story because the book is such a good read. But I don't want you to miss out on the blessing that is sure to come with filling and giving away a Christmas jar, so I'll do my best to summarize the premise behind the jars here.

The book, which appears to be a work of fiction even though it could just as easily be based on a true story, chronicles a budding writer who, after receiving a Christmas jar, decides to track down the people behind the tradition. The family who started the tradition used the jar initially to save money for their own Christmas. As newlyweds, the couple would take however much was in the jar, divide it between the two of them, and go to a local department store to buy the best gift they could buy with their half of the meager savings. This practice continued for several years until they had children.

It was then that the tradition took a different twist when their daughter gave their jar to a lady sitting on a curb as they were on their way into the bank to have the change turned into dollars so that they could go shopping. From that point on, they gave away the Christmas jar each year. Sometimes to a family who had lost a loved one, sometimes to a wealthy person who needed to learn how to receive (& possibly regift), and sometimes to a stranger who came across their path and was in obvious need.

The Christmas jar helped the family stay focused on others throughout the year and proved to be a blessing to them as they stored away their change day after day, anticipating the day when they would get to give it away. And ultimately, the tradition was carried on by the recipients, who started giving their own jars after being blessed by a Christmas jar.



As unexpected checks have come my way this month, I've cashed them and put them in the jar. As change weighs down my wallet, I empty it into the jar. And with each emptying, I am reminded of how Christ came and emptied Himself for us. So for me, the jar is already serving as a reminder to think about Christmas each and every day, instead of just in December. But there's a new anticipation about Christmas as I am looking forward to seeing who is supposed to receive my jar.

It's not too late to start a Christmas Jar. The initial ones in the book were started much later in the year. I hope you'll join me in this new tradition and that we can exchange stories this Christmas about what we learned from the tradition, how we made it our own, and how it blessed us.

The Weight of Words

I've been reading through the Chronological Bible, and the past few weeks spent in Job have left me thinking about words with friends. I'm not referring to the popular game but rather about the ones in real life that I've spoken to my friends.

Like those three friends of Job, my lips part too often, words flowing without the wisdom to back them up. Critiquing. Accusing. Not a word of encouragement to be found. Not taking into account what the heart on the receiving end of my words needs to hear.

Could it be that those who receive my words have the love language of encouraging words, such that emails received and sentences spoken get rehashed time and time again? Might they store up my words? Make boxes for "Cards Worth Keeping" and online folders for "Emails Worth Saving"? Do words hold such weight for the receivers of my words?

If there is even a chance that the people on the receiving end of my words stores them up like I do, why do I not speak encouragement into their lives? Why not err more on the side of encouragement than discouragement?

I've heard that the enemy of gentleness isn't meanness; it's efficiency. After all, it takes time to be gentle. What if I took the time to think through my responses before I said them? What if I searched for encouraging words before I responded? What delight might be added to someone's day?

Negative feedback is readily available many places in this world, but it need not be on my lips. If I love others the way I need to be loved, I share a gift that doesn't cost a thing but can uplift, bring a smile, and hopefully point them toward the One Who has unlimited power to encourage. I just need to put some time into it. Because there's no telling how long my words might be weighed, and I want them to be the good kind worth saving.

[Ann Voskamp and Holly Gerth have challenged other bloggers to write a post about loving Jesus and others with our words, and the above is my attempt to respond to that assignment.]

Beholding

I recently listened to a sermon on "Beholding the Beauty of the Bible." One of the initial points that caught my attention was Pastor Ronnie Smith's comment: "We become what we behold." And while I was still chewing on that, he said, "Worldliness kills your capacity to behold the glory of God in the Scriptures."

Enough said. I was convicted and guilty.

Pastor Smith's words provided an explanation, a diagnosis of sorts, for what I was experiencing as I read through Job in the chronological Bible, trying day after day to look forward to Job's friends berating him. But each day, what was pulling at my heart was a desire to do other things, worldly things. Things that won't count for eternity.

But hearing that sermon, I realized that my choice to follow after the worldly desires pulling at my heart is robbing me of much more than I ever thought; it's robbing me of seeing God's glory when I read His Word. That's not something I'm okay with.

Pastor Smith urges that part of the solution is to lay ax to the root of worldliness in your (my) life. I don't know exactly what all that will entail, but I know I want my mind focused more on God's glory than on worldly things. And one way that I can do that is to have music that keeps my mind off worldly things and puts the focus on God.

So lately, I've been listening to Chris Tomlin's newest CD entitled If Our God Is For Us and Hillsong United's song You Hold Me Now. I leave you with a video of the latter; I hope it ministers to you and helps you keep your focus on God's glory.

Christmas Jars

When I mentioned the idea of not giving family Christmas gifts this year, my mom immediately threw out the idea of doing Christmas jars for others instead. She said that she had read a book about this tradition and thought it would be a neat idea. She said that she'd send my sister and I copies of the book.

Last week, the book arrived in my mailbox, and I couldn't wait to read it.


If not for starting it so late in the evening (intending to read only a few pages), I could have finished it in one night. The story is compelling and is the perfect way to keep my focus on others as I drop my change into my Christmas jar each day. The best part will be praying about who to give the jar to at Christmas.

I'd love for you to join me in this new tradition or share your stories if you've done this in the past.