Baby Butterbean at about a week old, above. The following are of him from today, at 11 weeks old. He is wearing the same bib and shorts. Truly, they get too big, too fast!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Before and After
Baby Butterbean at about a week old, above. The following are of him from today, at 11 weeks old. He is wearing the same bib and shorts. Truly, they get too big, too fast!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Remembering My First Love
The first time we went back to church (here in Baytown) after the accident, I cried the whole time. I clung to my baby and cried. We took the Lord's Supper that day, and I was reminded of His provision, and I cried. That was pretty early on, and the tough questions hadn't yet started swirling around in my head.
This past Sunday morning, 7AM, and I didn't want to go. I knew I should, knew it might help me, but I had a heart that was very hard and bitter that morning. I didn't know how I could sit through Sunday school without everyone seeing right through me. And I certainly wasn't expecting God to show up! I was just wanting to get through the exercise and go home.
The Sunday school lesson was about . . . um . . . something,I don't remember, but - it was the Scripture that hit me square in the face. We opened to Isaiah 30, and verse 18 says this: "Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!"
It was the word longs that jumped out at me. It reminded me of a conversation I'd had with Scott when I was still living in California. From Iowa he'd called me, and told me that he missed me, that he was pining for me. Seeing the word longs in verse 18 made me remember what longing for something feels like. I remembered pining for, longing to be near Scott. It was such an aching feeling, to want to be near him, but to know that I couldn't.
I sat there wondering, is God longing to be near me, to show me compassion? This God that I've been doubting and wondering about, is He doing that? Even after I (like the obstinate nation in the verses before) have been turning away from Him? Wondering if God was longing for me was something that started to touch my heart.
If I hadn't been in the choir loft Sunday morning, I would have cried again. We were singing this song:
All who are thirsty,
All who are weak,
Come to the Fountain,
Dip your heart in the stream of life;
Let the pain and the sorrow
Be washed away
In the waves of His mercy,
As deep cries out to deep,
We sing,
Come, Lord, Jesus, come
Holy Spirit, come
As deep cries out to deep
1998 Vineyard Songs (UK/Eire)Words and Music by Brenton Brown and Glenn Robertson
I don't have any more answers than I did before, but I know that I felt something on Sunday. It felt a little bit like a softening, maybe. And I was a little bit lifted just to be feeling again.
This past Sunday morning, 7AM, and I didn't want to go. I knew I should, knew it might help me, but I had a heart that was very hard and bitter that morning. I didn't know how I could sit through Sunday school without everyone seeing right through me. And I certainly wasn't expecting God to show up! I was just wanting to get through the exercise and go home.
The Sunday school lesson was about . . . um . . . something,I don't remember, but - it was the Scripture that hit me square in the face. We opened to Isaiah 30, and verse 18 says this: "Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!"
It was the word longs that jumped out at me. It reminded me of a conversation I'd had with Scott when I was still living in California. From Iowa he'd called me, and told me that he missed me, that he was pining for me. Seeing the word longs in verse 18 made me remember what longing for something feels like. I remembered pining for, longing to be near Scott. It was such an aching feeling, to want to be near him, but to know that I couldn't.
I sat there wondering, is God longing to be near me, to show me compassion? This God that I've been doubting and wondering about, is He doing that? Even after I (like the obstinate nation in the verses before) have been turning away from Him? Wondering if God was longing for me was something that started to touch my heart.
If I hadn't been in the choir loft Sunday morning, I would have cried again. We were singing this song:
All who are thirsty,
All who are weak,
Come to the Fountain,
Dip your heart in the stream of life;
Let the pain and the sorrow
Be washed away
In the waves of His mercy,
As deep cries out to deep,
We sing,
Come, Lord, Jesus, come
Holy Spirit, come
As deep cries out to deep
1998 Vineyard Songs (UK/Eire)Words and Music by Brenton Brown and Glenn Robertson
I don't have any more answers than I did before, but I know that I felt something on Sunday. It felt a little bit like a softening, maybe. And I was a little bit lifted just to be feeling again.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Memories!
Thanks, Boss and Peanut! This is going to be fun!
It's game time! Here's how to play...
1. As a comment on my blog, leave a memory that you have of me. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see who leaves a memory about you.
If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.
Ready? Go!
It's game time! Here's how to play...
1. As a comment on my blog, leave a memory that you have of me. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see who leaves a memory about you.
If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.
Ready? Go!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Climbing Jacob's Ladder
I waited for You today
But You didn't show, no, no, no
I needed You today
So where did You go?
You told me to call
Said You'd be there
And though I cannot feel You
Are You still there?
I cried out with no reply
And I can't feel You by my side
So I'll hold tight to what I know
You're here and I'm never alone
Never Alone, Barlow Girl
Faith in Scripture is described as "the evidence of things hoped for, the substance of things unseen." (Hebrews 11) But how can you have evidence of a hope, substance of the invisible? That's what makes faith, faith.
And what happens when faith is shaken as never before? When a faith so old and grounded seems suddenly uprooted by a single event? When there are more questions than answers? When the answers that surface don't satisfy?
That's where I am right now.
I've had many wise people over the years of my journey tell me that it is OK to ask God the hard questions, to tell Him t he real feelings that are inside. Read the Psalms, people tell me. God is God. Infinite. The I AM. He can handle it. He is not surprised by my emotions or questions.
But what if I am doing all that, and I still feel that my words aren't getting past the ceiling? I don't like this place in which I find myself. It is uncomfortable. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I'm restless. It makes me feel like I might be going crazy.
Still, in all of it, I have this gigantic urge to think about God. To wonder what He's thinking about me. To wonder what He wants me to do about all of this. Sometimes, even if I feel like He's not listening, I try to talk to Him. The words may not be happy ones. But they are directed to Him. So my heart, my spirit, must still be holding something that my mind, for now, is rejecting.
A dear professor used to counsel me in college. Sometimes I laugh at how green and naive I was back then. Once, during a particularly difficult time, I told him about the doubtful and angry prayers that I was praying. I was scared that God might be mad at me, or at the least, too disgusted with me to listen.
"Amy," said my professor, "God would rather you come to Him in anger than not at all. If you had said to me that you'd stopped praying, then I'd be worried."
So . . .
All that . . .
And I'm still praying (if you want to call it "praying") and still - what is this I've come to? A new faith? That scares me. This is a place where I have no answers that satisfy me, where speaking as I did in my old faith annoys me, where no scripture that I think up helps me sleep in peace through the night. So what does all of this mean? Am I wrestling with God now? Climbing my own ladder? Where will I end up? If still accept God at the end of it, will He still accept me? Am I normal? Should I be this afraid?
One thing I've realized is that the scariest part of faith, for me, is that you don't have to believe anything. Faith is up to me. It's my choice. Truly . . . a leap.
I feel . . . alone. And God said He'd never leave me or forsake me. And I know Scripture says not to trust my feelings. But what happens at a time like this, when faith and feelings don't match? When my Bible weighs ton? When I can't have that meaningful prayer time?
And what does it mean, that I'm feeling like this? That the strong faith I once knew wasn't real? That I am not know, or ever was, as strong in my faith as I believed? Or is there some level I never knew about or imagined?
I miss that blessed, peaceful faith. I'm whining, I know. I want to know what's at the end of this wrestling-in-the-night stuff.
I've never had a problem being vulnerable when it has come to issues of spirituality. I had a problem writing this. I didn't know if I should share. I don't know what someone might think. But I have tried to think and write something pat and pretty about how I feel, and I just can't do it right now.
And still, there's that God-urge, but my prayers aren't working for now, so I'm asking the Holy Spirit to pray for me like He has before.
I don't know, but I want to think that maybe something important is happening, or it wouldn't be so hard.
But You didn't show, no, no, no
I needed You today
So where did You go?
You told me to call
Said You'd be there
And though I cannot feel You
Are You still there?
I cried out with no reply
And I can't feel You by my side
So I'll hold tight to what I know
You're here and I'm never alone
Never Alone, Barlow Girl
Faith in Scripture is described as "the evidence of things hoped for, the substance of things unseen." (Hebrews 11) But how can you have evidence of a hope, substance of the invisible? That's what makes faith, faith.
And what happens when faith is shaken as never before? When a faith so old and grounded seems suddenly uprooted by a single event? When there are more questions than answers? When the answers that surface don't satisfy?
That's where I am right now.
I've had many wise people over the years of my journey tell me that it is OK to ask God the hard questions, to tell Him t he real feelings that are inside. Read the Psalms, people tell me. God is God. Infinite. The I AM. He can handle it. He is not surprised by my emotions or questions.
But what if I am doing all that, and I still feel that my words aren't getting past the ceiling? I don't like this place in which I find myself. It is uncomfortable. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I'm restless. It makes me feel like I might be going crazy.
Still, in all of it, I have this gigantic urge to think about God. To wonder what He's thinking about me. To wonder what He wants me to do about all of this. Sometimes, even if I feel like He's not listening, I try to talk to Him. The words may not be happy ones. But they are directed to Him. So my heart, my spirit, must still be holding something that my mind, for now, is rejecting.
A dear professor used to counsel me in college. Sometimes I laugh at how green and naive I was back then. Once, during a particularly difficult time, I told him about the doubtful and angry prayers that I was praying. I was scared that God might be mad at me, or at the least, too disgusted with me to listen.
"Amy," said my professor, "God would rather you come to Him in anger than not at all. If you had said to me that you'd stopped praying, then I'd be worried."
So . . .
All that . . .
And I'm still praying (if you want to call it "praying") and still - what is this I've come to? A new faith? That scares me. This is a place where I have no answers that satisfy me, where speaking as I did in my old faith annoys me, where no scripture that I think up helps me sleep in peace through the night. So what does all of this mean? Am I wrestling with God now? Climbing my own ladder? Where will I end up? If still accept God at the end of it, will He still accept me? Am I normal? Should I be this afraid?
One thing I've realized is that the scariest part of faith, for me, is that you don't have to believe anything. Faith is up to me. It's my choice. Truly . . . a leap.
I feel . . . alone. And God said He'd never leave me or forsake me. And I know Scripture says not to trust my feelings. But what happens at a time like this, when faith and feelings don't match? When my Bible weighs ton? When I can't have that meaningful prayer time?
And what does it mean, that I'm feeling like this? That the strong faith I once knew wasn't real? That I am not know, or ever was, as strong in my faith as I believed? Or is there some level I never knew about or imagined?
I miss that blessed, peaceful faith. I'm whining, I know. I want to know what's at the end of this wrestling-in-the-night stuff.
I've never had a problem being vulnerable when it has come to issues of spirituality. I had a problem writing this. I didn't know if I should share. I don't know what someone might think. But I have tried to think and write something pat and pretty about how I feel, and I just can't do it right now.
And still, there's that God-urge, but my prayers aren't working for now, so I'm asking the Holy Spirit to pray for me like He has before.
I don't know, but I want to think that maybe something important is happening, or it wouldn't be so hard.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Matt and Lisa's Wedding - Trip to AR
Here is Baby Butterbean, chillin' at our picnic in North Texas, on our way to Aransas.
Ariel view of the girls
Mmmm . . . picnic!
What's a good rest-stop picnic without some free wifi???This pic and the following were taken just before the ceremony
Noodle, T, and Chicken Nugget, posing on the porch.
Our friend, L, holding Baby Butterbean.
Our friend, TW, holding Baby Butterbean.
My mom with our friend, CW, inside the haunted Crescent Hotel. Is that an orb I see behind them???
The bride, getting all dolled up!
Before I went back downstairs, she gave me a hug and said, "Next time, we're family!"
T, CN, and Noodle, waiting in the garden.
Banana enjoyed all the steps he found around the garden.
The lovely, old, and haunted (!) Crescent Hotel. I thanked my lucky stars that the wedding was OUTSIDE!!!!!!!
Bride and groom at the alter . . .
The "I do's!"
The smooch!
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs.!"
The lovely bride, posing for some photos.
Banana, enjoying the reception with our friend, K.
Friends and family enjoy the reception.
Our friend, A, feeding Baby Butterbean at the reception.
First dance as husband and wife.
Me with my new sis-in-law. Now, we're family!
Throwing the bouquet. Banana seems confused. He is not a single gal.
The flower girl catches the bouquet!
I love this sweet pic. CN has a new aunt. :o)
Getting ready to throw the garter. Now you've got it, Banana!
Oh, my!
The lovely couple.
There I go, always getting in the middle of stuff!
Me with our old friend, B.
B with his wife, K
Noodle enjoyed getting her hands on the wedding cake. Thankfully by this time, the reception was over. Noodle took pride in poking each and every icing daisy that was left on this cake.
Noodle, T, and CN on the porch swing of the cabin where the kids and I stayed while we were in Eureka Springs for the wedding. The following are also pics of the cabin:
Noodle, T, and Chicken Nugget, posing on the porch.
Our friend, L, holding Baby Butterbean.
Our friend, TW, holding Baby Butterbean.
My mom with our friend, CW, inside the haunted Crescent Hotel. Is that an orb I see behind them???
The bride, getting all dolled up!
Before I went back downstairs, she gave me a hug and said, "Next time, we're family!"
T, CN, and Noodle, waiting in the garden.
Banana enjoyed all the steps he found around the garden.The lovely, old, and haunted (!) Crescent Hotel. I thanked my lucky stars that the wedding was OUTSIDE!!!!!!!
Bride and groom at the alter . . .
The "I do's!"
The smooch!
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs.!"
The lovely bride, posing for some photos.
Banana, enjoying the reception with our friend, K.
Friends and family enjoy the reception.
Our friend, A, feeding Baby Butterbean at the reception.
First dance as husband and wife.
Me with my new sis-in-law. Now, we're family!
Throwing the bouquet. Banana seems confused. He is not a single gal.
The flower girl catches the bouquet!
I love this sweet pic. CN has a new aunt. :o)
Getting ready to throw the garter. Now you've got it, Banana!
Oh, my!
The lovely couple.
There I go, always getting in the middle of stuff!
Me with our old friend, B.
B with his wife, K
Noodle enjoyed getting her hands on the wedding cake. Thankfully by this time, the reception was over. Noodle took pride in poking each and every icing daisy that was left on this cake.
Noodle, T, and CN on the porch swing of the cabin where the kids and I stayed while we were in Eureka Springs for the wedding. The following are also pics of the cabin:
Is it because I'm a mom . . .
. . . too Western, or what?
As I was flipping channels earlier, I came to the last scene in the movie Return to the Blue Lagoon. It was the part where Lily was telling Richard that she didn't want her baby to be born in civilzation, where there are "guns and lies!" Richard agrees, and the next scene is of Lily and Richard swimming in the ocean with their baby. My mind is screaming, "Get that baby immunized! Go to civilization! There are doctors there!"
At one time, I'm sure I had thought that staying away from guns and lies was all romantic and idealistic. Geez, what the heck is wrong with me now????
As I was flipping channels earlier, I came to the last scene in the movie Return to the Blue Lagoon. It was the part where Lily was telling Richard that she didn't want her baby to be born in civilzation, where there are "guns and lies!" Richard agrees, and the next scene is of Lily and Richard swimming in the ocean with their baby. My mind is screaming, "Get that baby immunized! Go to civilization! There are doctors there!"
At one time, I'm sure I had thought that staying away from guns and lies was all romantic and idealistic. Geez, what the heck is wrong with me now????
Saturday, August 02, 2008
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