Be Not Afraid in November

Why is November hard? There are obvious reasons - cold weather, long dark nights, time-change, covid and flu season, holiday stress... I guess I don't need to ask. It's hard. I struggle to get into the holiday spirit because we're so often dealing with illness at this time.

Yesterday was a dreary November day- sick with a lingering fever, rumbling down the gray highway from the doctor to the lab, with tired, hungry kids in tow, watching the gray skies and the bare trees, feeling low and crumby, and wondering why. Despite the slow, deep undercurrent of trust in God my Father, I felt a weariness and despair over how much life requires us to patiently endure. While life is brief, such moments feel slow and hard. I watched the people we passed in cars and parking lots, and it seemed like none of them looked happy either. Stress or dull tiredness weighed on the faces that flashed by.

My husband was driving, our old music playlist playing on the van speakers. A song started and I turned up the volume to let "Be Not Afraid" wash over my weary soul. So many times this song has come on when I needed it. 

This time, at the same moment, the cloud blanket parted above the black ragged trees, and the sun became visible, glimmering a bright wisp of rainbow above the highway. 

It wasn't long before the song was over, and cloud cover seeped back over the sun, but I had heard from my Father in that moment. He was with me with all His promises and faithful goodness. Sometimes He makes His love very real when we need it most. 

Someday, I believe I will have a happy November again. If not, "though the way is hard, it is safe and short" and life in my Father's house will be more perfect than I can imagine. 

After Talking to Hispanic Workmen on a Rainy Day

The house is still and warm.

Front door bangs to on 

drizzle, cold, and foggy

conversation with the 

work men come to 

lay new cables with 

their new brown hands.

They stumble over

English words, their brown eyes

hiding from another 

round of "I don't understand".

Hunched against the dampness, 

they think Spanish thoughts 

inside.

 

The dryer tumbles to a stop

just as I step inside,

My cold hands dive

into a nest of toasted t-shirts,

basking in the light bulb's 

yellow glow.

Outside it's grey.

 

Some time today,

brown hands will

end their day in rain

and take off hats,

printed with English words.

The lights will glow on in their

Spanish eyes, and Spanish

thoughts come tumbling

out like warm towels

into homey, waiting hands.

The Family Road Trip

It started with my visionary husband's idea for a mercy ministry that integrated financial advice and the gospel in a biblical way. Over a year ago, he decided that he wanted to get the curriculum and training from the Chalmers Center to implement in our church and community, and none of my "Honey, let's just do the raising kids thing for now" would phase him. Last year he wanted to go, and I said, "Please wait for next year." This year, the training was at a church in Normal, IL. He would take vacation time to go. Maybe I would go with him. Maybe the kids would go with us too. But this would be the summer trip. I did not want this trip to happen, but sound doctrine being the wonderful thing that is, I realized that my job as a wife is to help my husband fulfill his mission in life and not the other  way around. Since he had decided to do this, I needed to encourage and support him as cheerfully as possible, and not kick and drag, because that doesn't glorify God and it ain't fun for nobody.

I looked up Normal, IL. It appeared to be about as uninspiring as its name suggests. Our only summer trip opportunity - no mountains, no beaches, and no historic sites, just a mildly depressing, flat, midwest town. Then it occurred to me to check how far Normal was from Caleb's mom's house - where we had never yet visited in our seven years of marriage, because we'd been having babies all that time, and the drive is eleven hours. Waukegan was three hours away from Normal - and that became our trip plan. Take two days to drive to Grandma's house in Waukegan, with enough days at her house for Caleb to be with us before and after the class, the children and I stay with her while he drove to Normal for two days training, and then came back for Sunday and her birthday which conveniently occurred on the Monday before we left for another two day trip back. It would be an adventure, and I knew it would be utterly exhausting. I'm already tired from doing the three kids thing at home. But that made me pray about it a lot, which was a good thing. And the closer we got, the more I was determined to go, because I didn't want to miss that time together, however grueling it was.

When we told Caleb's mom our trip plans, she said "We could go to the lake!" I knew that she lived somewhat near Lake Michigan, but I didn't realize it was only six minutes away from her house. As I thought about it, the whole trip began to take on a new color. I would be able to relive with my children childhood trips to Michigan to my grandparent's farm, which was also not too far from the lake (on the eastern shore). Every summer time, my heart feels a compass needle pointing north, tugging me with longings for the region of my birth and of my happiest memories. I would try to be content to tend the garden in our West Virginia country home, only dreaming of aspens, pines and clear, cold lakes twinkling in the light of long northern summer days. Because of the way our trip plans had formed, these feelings had not been part of it before. I knew we would have to drive through Chicago to get there, and I didn't realize that the beauty of the north country lay beyond it. But Waukegan was beyond what I had expected in similarity to Michigan, and during that week, the children and I went to the lake three times - once with Grandma and the baby, and twice just by ourselves - and every time there was such joy and beauty in it and a refreshment of spirit hard to describe.

A Mountain Adventure

This morning, our 4 yr. old son insisted that we are going to the mountains and began packing the car with essentials such as golden books, rubber balls, a cooler with freshly picked oregano and a picnic blanket . He has previously insisted that we were going to run a hotdog stand or go to the beach, which I had to convince him was not happening - but since we live in West Virginia, I thought this wish wouldn't be too hard to gratify. A little Google-mapping found us North Mountain - 20 minutes away, but we had never gone there before, so we hopped in the car and headed for I-81 North. On the way up, I returned a call from my neighbor who wanted to give me some hosta bulbs she was dividing and told her where we were going. "I was born on that mountain" she said. Knowing her childhood history of mountain pentecostalism and its accompanying strangeness added a touch of eeriness to the adventure.

We drove west through the quaint little overgrown town in the valley, then through farms with grassy fields running into the deep leafy green forest of the mountain side - then up, up to the junction at the top and then with several back tracks to the junction, took all the different routes in turn.

One Stranger

On our way home from church today, we picked up a stranger holding a cardboard sign by the road "No Gas, No Food, No Money".  It's a common sight when you live near a state line truck stop, but since we were all together heading home for Sunday dinner, I asked Caleb if we could take the man home with us, and he being more than willing to do that sort of thing, readily pulled over and picked the man up.

His story was sad - he was traveling to Maine for a new job when his wife, who was suffering from bipolar disorder and postpartum depression had left him in the hotel, taking their five sons and all his things and money.  She had run away before, but usually ended up with family. This time she couldn't be found anywhere. He had a job waiting in Maine, but just needed to get there. It sounded almost too much of a tearjerker to be true, but we figured we could give him dinner and some gas.

Looking Forward

This past winter has been hard in all the ways that winters with little ones (and my own struggle with Lyme disease) are hard. My relief that it is over is so great that I want to hug every tulip and daffodil, drink the air from open windows like wine, and already sigh that the leaves are out because the end of the beginning marks a few days closer to the next winter. I shudder at the memory of the dull skies, illnesses and seeping cold and never want to see it again. The whole earth seems so right. The deadness of winter so wrong - must it ever come again? 

But in the midst of the long, dark winter, God sent us that which that makes the end of this summer a thing to anticipate with hope At first we were overwhelmed in the midst of our weariness, but the hope is growing, and, oh, God-willing, the end of October will bring us new, warm life - a baby. I'm growing hungrier for small fuzzy cheeks and velvet head and a new face with a new name - hungrier than I was for warm skies and violet-studded grass. This is a gift. We never know if a growing baby in the womb will live to see the light of day - all life is in God's hands. But my heart wanted something to anticipate and God granted me a growing belly and sleepless wee hours filled with crazy baby-name conjuring, and midnight snacks and outdoor time with children that leaves me weary to the bone, and the overwhelming reality that a life is in our charge to love and give ourselves to keep. 

In all of this, the Word of God has been near to sustain and teach me. I am learning that when I cannot see the good of life's hard things (and even pregnancy has been a hard thing), their hardness itself is the gift of Him who said "You have need of endurance" to one of his children who would have all things made light and easy. If I could have all things easy here, how would I be kept from the dangerous love of this world? To be weary in the way is to long for the end - final redemption in Jesus' consummated kingdom. Ease does not push me there. "The testing of your faith develops endurance". Whatever motherhood brings, life will not be easy if my God loves me well. He wants me to be as hungry for His kingdom as I have been for spring, as eager to see His face as I am to meet our baby (no, much, much more). He wants me to raise our children to hope in the triumph of King Jesus, and look for redemption outside themselves just as I must daily do. And He is helping me to do want He wants of me.

If none of this makes sense, blame it on my pregnancy brain, but praise the Lord with me, because He does all things well.

The Airing Day

This deliciously spring-like February day with its fresh breezes and happy children watching the laundry waving on the line put all kinds of poetry in my head. A happy wind blew it right into me and here it is. 

[Confession: I did not put out to air all of the items listed in this poem!]

The Airing Day

Sweet wind from the southwest the rain mist is sweeping.

Bold blackbirds awaken the sky from its sleeping.

The chillied new year a fresh spring cloak is wearing –

It’s time for the house to turn out for an airing!

Bring out your doilies and tea towels and cosies,

Hang out your pillow shams, blankets and duvets,

Pull out the rugs from the bugs and the dust,

And beat them in league with the wind if you must!

Bring out your mattress, your couch and your foot puff,

Drag out your latch-hooked rugs, all of the floor stuff.

Clear out the nooks and the crannies and closets,

Eradicate all the dust bunny deposits!

Pin pillows to clotheslines, hang bath mats on porch rails,

While breezes turn all of the bedsheets to boat sails.

Old quilts from the closet come out like brave banners,

Exhibiting brisk, unconventional manners.

All of the linens, grown dusty from living

With winter, are waving a giddy thanksgiving!

Fresh air, flood the windows, thrown open to greet you

Spring day, the whole house is delighted to meet you.

- Alyssa Bohon, February 2018

A Good Sparrow

The other morning, I decided I needed to go to Walmart (for the first time since we have lived in WV!)  because of the particular items on my shopping list that week. I loaded the children and paraphernalia into the car and headed out the driveway with the feeling of mild dread that comes from going to an unfamiliar and massive store which you don't really like, with toddlers. Maybe I should just stay home and make creative meals from the freezer and try to make the kid's shoes work until winter...but, no, I probably do need to go...

At a bend in our country road before the highway, I suddenly had to slow down for a sparrow landing in the road. The bird had spotted some tasty winged insect and was determined to have it, busy road and all. I watched him beating the tar out of the bug on the pavement until it submitted to being eaten and then fly off, triumphant in his petite success. God feeds the sparrows, and He will care for you. That's what seeing a sparrow so often brings to mind...And then I laughed. But sometimes they have to jump in the middle of the road to peck up the bugs, even if they are from the hand of God! 

All my reluctance to brave the badly lit Walmart aisles disappeared. The little bird had eaten from the hand of God in a most plucky fashion, and seeing him put pluck into me. I drove on with a smile and a light heart.

Did the Walmart shopping trip go beautifully? Well, apart from a certain child husking a corn cob randomly into the cart and then eating part of it raw before I bagged it, and screaming because of his hand being held for a certain section of aisle, and my barely rescuing a ripe plum from being eaten unbought...we did survive. And I found everything I needed. New toddler shoes for 4.99 and delightfully cheap prices on meat and cheese are almost as good as bug fresh off the road.

Sparrows by Alfred Brehm 

By His hand we all are fed.

Give us Lord our daily bread

Amen.

My 2016 Reading Challenge Wrap-Up

I truly enjoyed participating in the 2016 Reading Challenge from Challies.com. My achievement level in number of book categories completed was certainly mediocre, but each book that I read for the list was enriching. I realized my personal bias toward certain genres when confronted with "A book about a current issue" ("Oh, please no!" I often read to escape) or "A book published in 2016" (I prefer books published nearer to 1916 and rarely buy new books) - and I never did get around to reading a book in either of those categories.

As a non-competitive free spirit, I indulged in books that just wouldn't fit into a category on the challenge list - "A book for children" was checked early in the year, but many subsequent evenings found me curled up with another nice little piece of juvenile fiction that didn't fit any of the other check boxes. Looking back, I realize that I didn't allow the reading challenge to stretch and mature me to the extent that I could have, and if I do something like this again, I will try harder to branch out of my comfort zone of Spurgeon and Dickens and try "A graphic novel" or "A book on the current New York Times list of bestsellers". But very few categories were skipped out of indifference. Most of the list was not completed for lack of time. I look wistfully still at "A book by Francis Schaeffer" and "A book with at least 400 pages" never completed. Maybe I will keep the list going until it is all done...in three years perhaps.

Here, though, are twenty-seven books that I did complete, and my brief reflections on them.

~ A book about Christian living - Future Grace by John Piper
I completed this book early in the year as I neared the end of pregnancy with our second child. The winter was cold, we had recently moved, I was often unwell, and the pregnancy went long overdue. Future Grace encouraged me immensely many afternoons spent on the couch while our son napped. It was just what I needed to help me carry on - whatever happens, your covenant-keeping God will be there for you. Thank God for books like this.

~ A biography - John Bunyan - Tinker of Bedford by William Deal
Written for middle-schoolers and published by a homeschool curriculum company, this was not a typical grown-up biography, but it made John Bunyan's life more real to me and filled my heart with wonder at the grace of God to this man so humble and weak, yet so greatly used for good.

~ A classic novel - Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
This category was not hard to complete, but it was hard to choose! My husband came to my assistance as I stood staring at the bookcase - "Read Robinson Crusoe - you can't get more classic than that!" I was glad I read it - I hadn't realized what a strong Christian message it contained. Crusoe's journey to faith in the God who ruled over even the worst tragedies of his life resounded with true Christian experience. It was encouraging! Besides that, just about anyone enjoys the classic adventure tale of survival by resourcefulness and perseverance in dire circumstances.

This Too Will Be For Good

When I was a freshman in college, I experienced the typical reaction to the first week of classes - often called "syllabus shock" - how would I ever be able to muster the time and mental resources to complete this enormous load of assignments just presented to me? Stressed and anxious, I took the matter to the Lord, praying for help. The truth that he opened to my fretful heart in those first weeks was that though I had trusted him for my financial needs, I had not learned to trust him for those less tangible matters of energy and time, yet these were just as much in his power to provide as the other. I was enabled to begin trusting that these too would be given to me for the asking - and they were.

This lesson often pictures to me what it is like to face a new lesson of faith. I must learn to trust my God in all things, and not just in the places where I have grown familiar with seeing His hand. I think this is a lesson that I and many of my fellow believers will have to learn as we look at our nation and are tempted to despair. 

I wonder how many of us are thinking something like, "Well, I know God is in charge, but this is going to be terrible"? Having a bad president may be terrible, but a dozen other things one may meet in this fallen world may terrible, while "through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God" This ugly scary state of things is the very place for us to firmly believe that God is good to His people. Do I believe that "In all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose" is more deep and solid than our nation's foundations? Do I believe that if the nation falls into the hands of unprincipled tyrants, despite all we can do as faithful citizens, it is just a new step in the lessons of faith our Father has for us between here and Heaven? 

There is a pervasive sense that we are entering bad times in our country. Maybe this is true. But I think there is a place for a bolder faith that can look straight in the face of the dreadful political reports and sing - 

"Ye fearful saints fresh courage take

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessing on your head!"

Yes, our God is "He who disciplines the nations" (Psalm 94:10 ESV), which is a fearful thing for America. But God has also promised His children regarding the painful discipline they undergo (surely even if they must pass through the discipline of their nation at large) - "later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it." (Heb 12:11 ESV). For a nation it may be judgment, but for the believers in it, it may be a wholesome training with sweet fruit. This is a good thing.

So here's to faith in 2016 - faith that God's promises are better than the U. S. Constitution, and more sure and everlasting - faith that loving and obeying God will still be the path of ultimate blessing for His children, whether or not God blesses America nationally. Faith is God's great gift to us on the way to Heaven - and that is our better country.

A Methodist Hymnal

On this dreary fall afternoon, I took my new old Methodist Hymnal down from the shelf to have a first perusal at the keyboard. I hadn't really played from it since I bought it - and I bought it on the day we moved two months ago. What a crazy day that was. Pouring rain, drop-dead exhausted pregnant, toddler into everything. At one point there was a break in the weather, and I took Walter for a walk in the stroller to keep him out from underfoot, and maybe even catch a last cherished sighting of the train crossing Main Street.
The break in the weather didn't last long, and by the time we were around the block, we were caught in another sudden downpour. I ran with the stroller into the nearby Methodist church which was having a rummage sale. After finding a shirt for Walter three sizes too big but at least dry, and putting it on him to buy later, I browsed the tables.
I found so many funny and memorable things that day...like the watermelon magnets just like my grandmother used to have on her refrigerator, and the nifty peanut butter stirring lid that I'd always wanted, and the old lacey tablecloth that ended up being curtains for our bedroom in the new house. Then I discovered the treasure trove of ten cent books. Stuffing my hands and stroller with works of Lewis, Tolkien, Alcott and Wodehouse, I paused to peer further under the table in the dim corner and spied an old church hymnal. The Methodist Hymnal. I am not exactly a fan of modern United Methodism, but I had to have this hymnal, stamped with the Duncan Memorial church label. This was the church that played bell hymns over our block every noon and evening, speaking truth and cheer into my heart many times. On our last day in Berryville, I could not take the church chimes with me, but I could take the memory of them in this book - a reminder of the importance of encouraging the heart with song.
This evening I opened it and played "O Thou in Whose Presence My Soul Takes Delight", headphones plugged into the keyboard since Walter was napping and singing only in my heart since I have bronchitis. Why do I wait so long to do this? Music and truth together do so much good. Even if you don't have church bells to remind you, don't go too long without song - for the Lord is good and His mercy endures.

"Dear Shepherd, I hear and will follow Thy call;

I know the sweet sound of Thy voice.

Restore and defend me, for Thou art my All,

And in Thee I will ever rejoice."

 - Joseph Swain, 1791

Secret of a Good Marriage

There actually is a secret to the good married life. I just came across a reminder of it in this sentence:

"At the cross that relieves my conscience
let me learn lessons of self-denial, forgiveness, and submission." 

- from Arthur Bennet's The Valley of Vision, "A Neophyte's Devotion"

To the cross, to the cross!

(Practical note: Reading a Gospel writer's crucifixion account or some excellent cross theology from the Apostle Paul does rather more good than a few seconds' hazy imaginings of 'a hill far away')

A Travel Chronicle

I've not made a diary-style entry on this blog for quite awhile, but it seemed the best way to record our recent trip to Canada with the few pictures taken along the way.

It all started with another of Caleb's Canadian cousins deciding to get married, to our great delight, and on Memorial Day  (for us) weekend at that! So we planned our vacation days, booked a little motel in Smith Falls, Canada, and departed from Virginia with well-diapered toddler, safely enveloped passports, too much luggage, just enough food to get eaten up before the Canadian border crossing (homemade beef jerky in the border dumpster wasn't an appealing thought), and having a prized pot of flowers safely deposited in care of our 92-year old neighbor Rosa.

We stayed a night going to and coming from the north country at my parental home in Pennsylvania, where we enjoyed attending Wednesday night prayer meeting at Grace Baptist Church (for Caleb and I, who met at the church, this is a little like going back to the coffee shop where you had your first date) and spending time with two of my brothers and their wives. Here's Uncle Benjamin and Auntie Megan regaling Walter before bedtime with one of Grandma's books.

The trip up to Canada was rather long and weary, especially as it was Walter's first road trip longer than 2 hours. We stopped frequently, including one rest stop in New York where we met two Pakistani couples (one US residing, one visiting for the first time) who asked us to take their group picture and then promptly invited us to sit down and eat with them from their generous supply of spicy chicken curry, naan and mangoes. We asked them to return the photo favor so we could remember the unique moment. Walter was too busy stuffing down spicy chicken to smile for the camera.

Who thinks of hospitality on the road? I certainly don't make a practice of packing enough food to host unexpected guests at a rest stop. It was such a sweet learning moment, and a blessing. I wish we'd gotten another passerby to get a picture of all of us together. There probably would have been enough food for them too! It was superbly delicious, but as we got back on the road, thoroughly bespattered with curry sauce (guess why?) I was already thinking about doing laundry when we got back home. I obviously needed a vacation!

The drive through the Canadian countryside after we crossed the dreaded border (where they didn't even ask if we had any meat or produce) was lovely. I'd never seen the northern profusion of lilacs that bloom across the Canadian countryside in late May like giant lavendar-plumed hedges. I didn't get a photo of them, but it probably wouldn't have done them justice. And there were the sandy-earthed stretches of birch, aspen and ferns that my Michigan-born heart loved. It was good to be north. Our travel listening encouraged this sentiment - C. S. Lewis's The Horse and His Boy with Bree whinnying for "Narnia and the north!"

When we got to the little hotel in Smith Falls, we were pleasantly surprised to see that the Indian family who operated the hotel lived on the premises. I never told them that I grew up playing with Indian children in Guyana, but it made me feel quite at home to see their shiny black braids and hear their distinctive high pitched voices chattering. Their three little girls all ran out to see "baby boy" and invite him to play on their swing set. He preferred to investigate the riding lawn mower.

After a trip to the slightly bewildering Canadian grocery store, we returned to the motel to cook our supper of chicken and green beans on the camp stove in the chilly evening breeze. It was a decidedly northern evening - light and cold at 8:00.

Grandpa and Grandma Smith had reserved the motel room right next to us, but they didn't arrive till the following afternoon. We visited the nearby locks and canals in the morning, which was very interesting (and slightly terrifying until the very curious toddler was finally strapped into his stroller where he couldn't fall off 8 foot drops into canals). I didn't get any pictures as the phone was charging in the car, but here's one off of a local website (credit) of just one section of the locks where we walked. The path continued along the canal through woods and past houses and was quite lovely.

The afternoon was simply the best of hotel life - microwaved hotdogs, naps, books, and no dishes or laundry.

Friday evening the grandparents arrived, Grandma and I whisked off to Walmart to try another round of bewildering grocery shopping, and then all of us trooped off to see the cousins at Josiah and Jenn's wedding rehearsal. The fact that the wedding program on Saturday went off without a hitch was probably due to the fact that the groom being his own excellent wedding coordinator drilled everyone with remarkable thoroughness in their steps and duties. My husband was thrilled to discover that some assistance was needed with the cordless microphones  and therefore he could technologically participate in the wedding ceremony, which made his pleasure complete.

And then,  Saturday, the wedding! It was simple, sober and sweet with navy blue and baby's breath all round and much singing. We both got teary eyed as the bride came down the aisle in her simple and elegant hand made dress (Caleb and I did - not Walter, who was more delighted that we were keeping him quiet with a tube of kid's toothpaste from my purse). We sang both new and old songs, including one new to me from Psalm 127. Considering that the groom is among the oldest of a family of ten children, the hearty singing of "Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them" gave hope of an equally fruitful future for the newly wed family. We hope that God will so bless them as they show characters fit for being fantastic parents. 

I left partway through the reception to put Walter for a nap at the hotel, and when he (and I) woke up I returned to find the bride and groom still not departed and Caleb helping with clean up. I managed to get a picture with him in the remnants of our wedding finery. And look, I did get capture one of those magnificent lilacs after all - right in the background. Good job, Abby.

The bride and groom finally left the church in united Newton-hood, and back at our motel the evening was clear, crisp and cool. I had such a whim to go and look at the night sky declaring the glory of God in some part of the Canadian wilderness that my rather tired, but kind husband agreed to take me on a creation-gazing date in the direction of Murphy's Point while Grandpa and Grandma agreed to watch Walter at the hotel. We hadn't done anything like this for many moons and it was delightful. We stayed out much too late waiting for it to get dark, as we drove down winding woodsy roads, but it was worth it to see the crescent moon hanging in the deep blue above a forest-enclosed lake, the wind rustling so cool and sweet in the silhouetted leaves and the peepers singing softly. My wish to see the stars covering the unpolluted dark sky wasn't satisfied as we hadn't realized how late full nightfall was already beginning to be at this time of year far north, but it was all beautiful nonetheless.

Sunday was spent with the remaining Newton family, attending church, preparing and eating Sunday dinner with much conversation, and poking around the ever-interesting Newton property which included things like young John's souped-up lawnmower, beans and corn seedlings in homemade seed pots, and two sweet brand-new kittens in the garage. We had a windy walk down their country road, seeing new sown fields and marshy woods sprinkled with ferns and trillium and watching young Tim and Sam spar with sticks. Somewhere my skirt pocket holds gifts of snail shells and leaves, and one shaped like a heart, from those rough but tenderhearted three youngsters who accompanied us. 

Monday morning, Memorial Day, found us packing the car in the rain to head back to the states. I was anticipating a rather dreary and weary trip, but the rain cleared as we neared the border. When we stopped in a poky little town in NY for food, Caleb declared he wanted to eat lunch in a park somewhere and followed some small signs out of town for a state park. The rolling countryside was charming, but I was even more charmed as entered the designated picnic area and saw a vast expanse of twinkling blue with no visible shore, flashing through the trees. It was Lake Ontario! I hadn't been at a Great Lake for so long, and was as happy as a clam to run down to the stony shore and walk at the water's edge after we'd eaten our lunch.

 Walter was rather concerned about the chilly water.

Happy on the pier.

The outing sent Walter into a nice long nap as we resumed our trip southward. He woke up quite cheerful! 

When we at long last reached my parent's home in Pennsylvania, my oldest brother and his wife and their son were there also, having arrived from their new home in western New York for his attendance at the Banner of Truth minister's conference with my dad. It was so good to see them all and to watch the cousins interact as real 'grown up' toddlers for the first time. 

Vacations are sweet when you don't get them often. (Who does? I guess that's the point.) It was good for this small-town mama who doesn't like driving anywhere more than 5 minutes away to pack up and go...well out of the country- and feel the bigness and yet the smallness of the world God has made. It was good to be together with nothing to do but enjoy each other and our family and nature. That's all you need in a vacation, isn't it? A few baby chuckles make it even better.

"The Lord is good to all,

and his mercy is over all that he has made." 

-Psalm 145:9, ESV

Thoughts in Deuteronomy

"'And when you approach the territory of the people of Ammon, do not harass them or contend with them, for I will not give you any of the land of the people of Ammon as a possession, because I have given it to the sons of Lot for a possession.'' (Deuteronomy 2:19, ESV)

"Even wicked men must not be wronged. God gives and preserves outward blessings to wicked men; these are not the best things, he has better in store for his own children." - Matthew Henry

If the land of Canaan across the Jordan is a picture to believers of the heavenly promised land and everlasting rest, than the land traversed east of the Jordan may be a picture of the believer's sojourn through this world. In this world, the people of God are not given to triumph over everything and to own all they see. They must be content to see unbelievers living in comfort and security, to see opportunities for advancement here and now pass by them, because they are on their way to the better country. There will be victories here and provision here, as the Lord gave the Amorites into Israel's hand (2:24), but we are to be content with one or the other as long as we may travel onward to the better land.

Even in the instance of Israel conquering some lands east of the Jordan, they were to go about the deed in a passive and civil way, saying "Let me pass through your land. I will only go by the road" (2: 27) letting the victory come to them simply as God should send it. Whereas, in the conquering of the cities of Canaan, they were to go about the conquest with fierce activity. So also, believers are to seek first the kingdom of God, to be in the matter of entering heaven as the violent who storm the gate by force, cutting off hands and eyes that might hinder them, giving up all that they might have Christ, and taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ; but in matters of the present, earthly life, they are to be content with plenty or hunger, abundance or need; to be anxious for nothing but trust that all needful things will be added to them by their heavenly Father. Canaan is to be had at all cost. Christ has gained it for us and we follow Him in his victory march, so let us not fret that Esau should have Seir or that Ammon have Moab, so long as we shall arrive in God's country ere long.

Out of The Mouths of Babes

Husband gone all week and then all weekend;
driving husbandless and distracted to church with baby and receiving my first traffic ticket;
roughly four hours of sleep last night;
persistent health difficulties;
surprisingly large doctor bill's in the mail;
and...a fussy baby...who came onto the kitchen rug to spit up at my feet a piece of paper that had gotten into his tummy.

I found in the next room remains of the paper he had ingested. It was a quotation from Jeremiah Burroughs: "Christian contentment is that sweet, inward, gracious frame of spirit that freely submits to and delights in God's wise and fatherly disposal in every condition."

Out of the mouths of babes.

Little Laughing Flowers

Only two weeks remain for my husband to finish his college studies before graduation. He's been a soldier-student for all the time I've known him, and now a soldier-student-husband-father. The journey to finishing college has been long and arduous for this man of whom I am proud and for whom I pray.

Lately those prayers have been much of this one: "Lord, provide for him, provide a job, provide for us." Every time I walk outside and see the world with its trees and homes spread out beneath the sky, I remember our lives beneath God's face and I am stirred up to ask Him again for blessings. (How we need often to stand beneath the sky and remember our Creator!) But in the moment of prayer, my sense of need sometimes rises up against my sense of God and tries to rule my heart. What will we do without this thing for which I pray? How hard will it be to wait for this thing for which I pray? The worry rises  and the prayers rise back, perhaps more weakly. A fresh breezes come to my face and pass by, the grasses wave in it, humble golden dandelions blooming in squat glory near the pavement lift bold faces to the sun, new leaves bob proudly on dark twigs of trees above my head, and other trees revel in brief attire of glorious perfumey blossoms. 

All of it seems suddenly to be laughing at me. Do you not see, silly child of Eve, how well He has provided for us? Does not the spring always come for us to deck ourselves with joy and feed the air with beauty? And are not you the daughter of our Maker? Hohoho! Fret not! The breezes blow to me a dozen reassuring smiles from grass and flower, cloud and leaf. 

"How much more valuable are you than they?" So said Jesus. He wants me to look at all of it, the flowers, the sky and the birds, and to remember why they are there just so, and that I can trust their Maker to make something beautiful out of my life.

Near, by the footfall,
Springeth a joy,
Like a new-blown little flower
Growing for thee, to make thee glad.
Let thy countenance be no more sad,
But wake the voice of joy and health within thy dwelling,
And let thy tongue be ever telling,
Not of fear that lieth grey,
But of little laughing flowers beside the way.
For the Lord is always kind 
Be not blind, be not blind  
To the shining of His face,  
To the comforts of His grace.  
He hath never failed thee yet.  
Never will His love forget.  
O fret not thyself, nor let
Thy heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.

- Amy Carmichael

Birth

I thought this description of Dr. Zhivago's wife after she had delivered their first child was a beautiful picture of birth.

"Squirming on the palm of the nurse's hand lay a tender squealing, tiny human creature, stretching and contracting like a dark red piece of rubber....Tonia lay exhausted in the cloud of her spent pain. To Yurii Andreievich she seemed like a barque lying at rest in the middle of a harbor after putting in and being unloaded, a barque that plied between an unknown country and the continent of life across the waters of death with a cargo of immigrant new souls. One such soul had just been landed, and the ship now lay at anchor, relaxed, its flanks unburdened and empty. The whole of her was resting, her strained masts and hull, and her memory washed clean of the image of the other shore, the crossing and landing."

- from Dr. Zhivago by Boris Pasternak

Baby Walter, 19 November 2013

Good Parenting Advice

"We evangelize children through the years by confronting them with the Gospel. Let them live with people whom Christ has saved, people who live Christ-centered lives. Let the children never question the power of God to change men and women. Let them hear the stories of God and Jesus in which people were saved.  Let them hear the stories of the church in mission. Let them experience failure, that they may realize that man cannot save himself.  Let them ask God for forgiveness, that they may experience the answer to their faith in God. The life of a child in a Christian home may be full of blessings such as Jesus declared in His Sermon on the Mount, full of discouraging sinning experiences, full of forgiveness, full of promises from God, and full of pulls of the Holy Spirit to take the narrow way. All these are leading the child on toward God."

- from Christian Education in the Home by Alta Mae Erb, 1963

Medicine Cabinet Favorite Feature - Bentonite Clay

Here's a medicine cabinet essential that you probably won't find at your local pharmacy: bentonite clay.

This finely-textured clay powder has a variety of applications that I have discovered since I began using it, so as I marveled at yet another discovery of its healing potency, I decided I should write about it! Bentonite clay, also known as montmorillonite (which mineral forms the bulk of the clay) has more uses than I have even tried, but I wanted to share those that I have found to be remarkable in simplicity and effectiveness.

1. Tummy-Rescue. Whether it's a case of nervous quease, stomach flu, or mild food-poisoning, a mixture of bentonite clay in water can dramatically reduce stomach upset. The clay's extremely absorbent particles soak up toxic stomach contents like a sponge, calming the upset and cleaning up the digestive tract as it passes through. I have found that even if I feel nauseous and unable to eat anything, I am able to get down the smooth and tasteless mud, alternating swallows with gulps of water, and the calming effect is not long in coming The clay can be mixed with a little raw apple cider vinegar as well as water for a smoother texture and added digestive help. It is important to drink sufficient water when consuming clay, since it will clog your system if it is consumed too dry. Making a paste rather than swallowing the powder in capsules, ensures that the powder is moistened, but should be accompanied with additional water. Also, if you are on life-sustaining medications, bentonite clay may also remove these from your system, so use caution in such cases. Ideally, wait at least an hour - before or after taking bentonite clay - to eat or take supplements. But if that greasy pork just gave you a turn 2 minutes ago, don't worry about waiting - gulp down some bentonite mud for quick relief.

2. Rash-rescue. From a reaction to an antibiotic and yeast infection, I had a persistent, painful rash, and after trying many remedies like aloe, essential oils, baking soda, etc. I decided to try bentonite clay. This remedy was messy and not simple, because it required being muddy for 20-30 minutes and then showering to remove the mud after it had dried - but it worked better than anything else. For smaller rashes, bug bites or poison ivy, a thick paste of bentonite clay mixed with water may be spread over the infected area and wrapped with a clean cotton cloth overnight and taped shut The smooth mud soothes the itching initially and keeps it from being scratched or irritated, and then pulls the toxins out of the skin as it dries. Remove the mud in the morning and/or when it is dry. There may be some extra redness and itching when the mud is removed, since the skin is reacting to toxins being pulled through the surface, so make sure to rinse thoroughly with soap and water. During cold weather, mix the clay with warm water to enhance the soothing effect.

3. Acne-rescue. Bentonite clay is great for pulling clogged grease out of your pores and helping breakouts to heal in double-time. Simply slather the mud over your washed face and wait for it to dry, then wash off thoroughly. (You may want to remove some with a paper towel and discard to avoid clogging your sink drain) A bad case of pimples might look initially worse, because the pulling clay will bring them to a head. In that case, apply pure aloe vera gel to aid healing (or your favorite natural skin moisturizing product) and then repeat the clay mask process the next day. You will notice much smoother skin with smaller pores, and acne healing and fading quickly.

4. Cut rescue. If I get a cut on my much-used hands - even a tiny one - it is likely to fester and get red and sore and cause all sorts of irritation.  Simply sprinkling a pinch of bentonite clay powder onto the damp skin of the wounded area after cleaning it, and then covering it with a bandage helps to keep the cut dry and free of infection. This is good to do after a shower or before going to bed. I am doing this right now with a nasty knuckle cut from a grater and am amazed at how nicely it is healing. I initially applied the clay in paste form, but the powder on damp skin seems to work better for healing. However, a thick clump of clay paste applied initially to a heavily-bleeding cut will help to staunch the blood flow and act as a barrier to bacteria.

This one item can take the place of the Pepto-Bismol, medicated acne treatments, anti-itch creams and triple-antibiotic ointment in your medicine cabinet. Besides, its non-toxic, chemical-free and you don't have to worry about your kids drinking it. (Spilling it would be another matter)

Other notes: 
Bentonite clay needs to be stored in a non-metallic and non-plastic container, since either of those substances have elements that will be absorbed into the clay and detract from its purifying properties. Ideally, store in glass containers and scoop and mix with a wooden or ceramic utensil.

I am not a doctor, so talk with yours about medical advice.

I like to buy bentonite clay from Best Bentonite. This has the most affordable price and shipping rates. Bulk Herb Stores also sells a quality bentonite clay, if you are planning a larger herb order. (Minimum $99 purchase for free shipping).

Activated charcoal has similar detoxifying properties to bentonite clay, but I have found charcoal to be somewhat harsher on my system when taken internally (sore mouth, stomach cramps) and much more messy when used externally (black dust puffs everywhere when it dries), so I recommend clay over charcoal.

Don't Forget

This morning I awoke to one of those days - those days when everything looks like it has a gray film over it and your body feels like someone inserted several yards of cheap twine into your skeletal system and several rocks in your digestive system to boot, when you are peeved at everything that is non-ideal and constantly realize you are quite non-ideal yourself. I read in my morning devotions of the Lord coming in the dark clouds and prayed "Lord, help us to see you in shadows" and then proceeded with my day in the unstructured and jelly-like fashion in which it had begun.

The main item on today's to-do list was to file our taxes. ASAP. I had little idea of what I was getting into - I figured a few hours and completion before hubby left for school. It was a dreaded task, but I figured tax filing to be an appropriate use of a day in which I already felt like a half-drowned crab and did not hope to accomplish much else useful. So to the task!

Several hours later, with the question of where in the world Schedule C was for my self-employment taxes, and how I could file "married filing jointly" with this and that confusion, the crab was nearly drowned and slipping out of its shell.
Hubby would come and gently put a hand on my shoulder and I would flinch violently and start half crying. Hubby was tender-hearted and kind and said he was very sorry it was so hard, but he had to study his Latin and really appreciated my doing this for him. I attested to my willingness to trade my task for his.
I said I wanted something to bite. He suggested a carrot. I grimaced.
I was through almost the entire project on one tax filing site, but knew that one piece of info was not correct. I didn't know how to fix it and so couldn't consent to the final declaration that I was not committing 'perjury'. Therefore, it was necessary to go to another tax filing site and start ALLL OVER AGAIN. Whoopee. More tedious info-huntings. Oh, where was hubby's 2011 AGI? He had left for school and work - oh, and I forgot to send his apple to hold him till he finished work at 8pm...What a day. This is what it felt like to be a carnal Christian. A woman with PMS doing taxes.

And then I realized a sore negligence - How many times in this wretched process had I lifted my heart, even ever-so briefly, to Heaven and said "Lord, help me!" The Lord had promised His grace to be sufficient for every need, yet I had never asked him for it. Carnal Christian indeed. I had been acting like a crab of the mud rather than a child of the King, and sadly dishonored his Majesty by so doing. A brief break for tea and Elizabeth Prentiss had given me back my senses and brought me to this realization. I prayed, "Lord, help me, help us, with this. We need you."

A chat from hubby. He had found his AGI online. I proceeded to finish the process with a calm, cheerful heart, wondering still at my past folly. How could I have forgotten?

The throne of grace is always open. It is not just for fire, death and cancer. It is for taxes, tummyaches, and burnt toast - not to make them go away, but to help us honor the Savior in them. How many times have I dishonored the Lord in the little things? Grace is there to help me bear the fruit of love, joy and peace, and I should not let these depart from me with the potato slice that departed the cutting board to unknown regions below. I may feel like a crab, but I am not a crab. I am a child of God. It takes humility to see that I am not just a wretch, but a redeemed wretch who mustn't be wretched anymore, but boldly enjoy the benefits bestowed by a reconciled God - and ask for more of them, and use them, as if there were no end to them - because there isn't.