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Pressing on, in Jesus Name.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Early in the morning...

It's early, and I've been up for a while. Never mind that I didn't get much sleep last night, I had to be up.
Breakfast pizza is bubbling away in the oven. When it's ready, I'll package it up in aluminum foil and bring it away to my daughter's Drill Team practice because it is my turn to supply breakfast.

But that's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing to challenge myself. To challenge myself to get out of bed. Early. Because after I'm up, I like it. I like the peace. The solitude for half an hour after Mark has left for work and before Peter & Leah are awake. (Three mornings a week, Hannah is already up & out the door by now.) I have time to have a cup of coffee. And think. And pray. And be grateful.

So even though it is very hard for me to get out of bed early (I typically press my "snooze" button numerous times...), I am going to try.

Because it is good for my soul.

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Monday, September 20, 2010


It's too late now, but I've decided I don't want to be a parent anymore. It's too hard.
I wonder if God had those feelings. (Okay, I know he didn't, but...) After the rejection, and the mouthiness, and the disrespect, and the disobedience, and the hate directed at him, why didn't he just give up?
Because there are days I want to just give up.
But I can't. Even though there are days I would very much like to.

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Sunday, September 19, 2010

Being a sheep

So whenever I head south on highway 75 to points like Le Mars or Sioux City or beyond, I go past this farm.
A sheep farm to be exact.
And every time I drive past the place I'm reminded of one time when I saw something funny there.
It was a sheep.
Walking around.
With a bucket on its head.
Like nothing.
I remember thinking, you stupid sheep, have someone take that bucket off your head and you'll feel so much better. You'll SEE so much better. You'll be able to eat, too.
And then I remembered. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
For me.
Because I am a sheep.
And more often than not, I walk around with a figurative bucket on my head.
And I wonder how often Jesus shakes His head at me and thinks, "Silly sheep, let me get that off for you. You'll feel so much better. You'll SEE so much better. And you'll be able to eat."

It's been a long time since I first saw that sheep wandering around its pen with a bucket on its head like that. But the sight of that farm yard--whether there are sheep in it or not--reminds me to keep my head out of the bucket, or when I do get it in one, to let Jesus remove it so I can live.

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