"At that time, Jesus said to the crowds, "Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest Me as you would against a robber? Every day I used to sit in the temple teaching and you did not seize Me. But all this has taken place to fulfill the Scriptures of the prophets." Then all the disciples left Him and fled. Matthew 26:55-56 NASB One Sunday evening, I ordered pizza for the teen girls who attend Bible study at my house each week. I love pizza, especially the cheese part, but I have a dairy sensitivity, so I decided...

I knew this day was coming, deep down in that unacknowledged place. You know, the place one tries not to visit too much. It also goes by the name Denial. Yep, I knew the day would come when the last of my stay-at-home friends found a job, but when I got the text this morning, I didn’t allow myself to feel it too deeply. Instead, I consoled myself with the fact that she may not pass the background check, yet to occur. I texted back to that effect and had a good laugh because I’m 100% sure my friend has...

Maddy and Emma In Montreal, we had to start from scratch. Actually even in Fort Worth, we had to start from scratch. In other words, we didn’t arrive with an entourage of friends and family in tow. So I guess it was good that in Ft. Worth, even though we’d moved only forty-five minutes in distance, we were reminded how to make new friends. This was always tough for me. I used to be more timid than I am at present, but I knew I needed friends (I love people!), particularly in a new country. Then I found Katie. I...

I wish to keep this posting shorter but sweet, and this topic is sweet: Hope. Not just any hope, mind you, but hope in God. God’s hope. Thinking on the topic causes this almost physical reaction in me…a warming up…a settling in…a peace. Sometimes hope seems in short supply. Sometimes hope’s well is dusty bone dry. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say that a few of my friends might be there even now. Frankly, I think hope is hardest to hold when in the in-between time, which is how I define a waiting period fraught with varying degrees...

adverb prac·ti·cal·ly \ˈprak-ti-k(ə-)lē\ : almost or nearly : in a way that is reasonable or logical : in a practical way* I love words. I love the way they convey my meaning, especially in writing. I love their sounds, and I like the shape of each letter. Form letters into words and language, string them together, and the result is close to miraculous. When we communicate face-to-face or in writing, you may come close to understanding me, and I may come close to understanding you. That’s good. Almost mystical, it's even better when our words reach out and embrace each...

To Timothy, my beloved son: Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. I thank God, whom I serve with a clear conscience the way my forefathers did, as I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day, longing to see you, even as I recall your tears, so that I may be filled with joy. For I am mindful of the sincere faith within you, which first dwelt in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am sure that it is in you as well. For this reason I remind you...

11 But flee from these things, you man of God, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, perseverance and gentleness. (1Timothy 6, NASB) Back in the mid-1990s I was A) bored B) disillusioned C) unsure about what to do about it. Ever since graduating from Baylor, I had worked at one of the larger aerospace companies in the north Texas area, but my work life hadn’t turned out as I’d envisioned. Although I made a good salary, was blessed with a ninety-five percent trustworthy coworker rating*, and had excellent benefits—I wasn’t satisfied. After all, there didn’t seem to be enough work...

So while touring the Louvre, at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and around Versailles, I acted as if everything was still status quo. And through the Chunnel, and scrambling around London to pick up our rental car, I never uttered a peep. I acted a part. I acted as if my life wasn’t changing in a huge way. Maybe other people are prepared, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for my first small taste of what it would feel like to have another’s life in my hands. My second phone call (vaster-distance this time) was a bit better in...

Over the next several days I began to experience some new sensations—my sense of smell grew beyond all proportion (Pre-pregnancy, I didn’t know we lived in a world with such varied kinds of, um, aromas.). About a week and a half later, my stomach decided it didn’t like London fish and chips at all. But otherwise, I tried to carry on as normal. In fact, I didn’t tell my cousin that I was pregnant even though I did tell my mom and dad—Craig and I felt it would be better for mom to know in case I had any difficulties...

A little over seventeen years ago in mid-October… “I-I think I might be pregnant. I took a pregnancy test and it was positive, but I’m leaving on a trip later today. Do I need to come in before I leave?” My voice shakes as I slump on the edge of our bed with the receiver pressed to my ear. I'm worried they'll tell me that I shouldn't travel. “No, honey. You don’t need to come in until you’re (insert what seems a light year away) along. Though we can make you an appointment today,” the nurse replies in a manner...

I have a confession to make—I don’t care much about my birthday. It’s too close to Christmas and New Year’s Day. Oh, it’s okay as long as there’s not much fuss involved. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my Facebook friends send me greetings; I get to laze around in my jammies that extra hour or so; and my family buys a cake and takes me to dinner. And I can usually get Craig to go to the grocery store for me (Heaven!). But that’s it. That’s a perfect birthday. Okay, maybe there’s a little bit more to...

Super Girl was given the opportunity to travel to Belize with her church youth group in July. After she returned, I wanted to draw her out (She's normally not a big communicator.), so I decided to 'interview' her. I hoped that approaching her with this type of format and plenty of forwarning would help her to communicate some of her experiences. Additionally, I wanted a way to thank our friends and family for giving her prayer and financial support. This way you can share in a little of her story as well. I would also like to thank the adult...

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23 NASB I think I’ve written before about my overabundance of sensitivity (‘Why, God, why did you make me this way?!’ my inner drama queen laments.). Yep. I can forget I’m not fragile. I can forget my high worth. Actually, I believe that in Christ I’m far from fragile—the Bible doesn’t mention anything about insecurity being a fruit of the Spirit as far as I can recall. So God has been diligently working with me on...

“You don't talk much... I like you!” – Young Ellie to young Carl in the movie Up My fifteen-year-old daughter started talking about ‘hot’ boys around a year ago—generally, the imaginary type. You know…from a movie or TV or a manga…like Chris Evans as Captain America. It was interesting to me because she seemed to start on this typical journey of objectification so much later than many of her peers and, frankly, than I did. This delay was, in many ways, a profound relief (I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for any responsible parent.). Yet, it did...

'The Cedars of Lebanon' by Edward Lear, British. Oil, 1862 "There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it…” -Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen I’m not sure I ever knew what I wanted to be ‘when I grow up.’ As a child, I’m not sure I had any real aspirations. After all, I had plenty of time to make those kinds of decisions…or so it seemed. Life was good. We had a jungle gym, neighborhood...

Please excuse the mess while we're under construction. Yes, I'm still thinking of embedding a diffferenct music player. :(

She probably doesn’t think I read her post because she knows how I love to reminisce…but I didn’t comment. Instead it prompted me to once again stop and think (and stop and think) and try to remember about high school. In particular, I tried to remember what it might’ve been like to walk into the building on the first day. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t familiar with the high school anyway. After all, my sister had just graduated from Sunset the year before—I’d visited several times. But Lisa was off at college, and, if she’d been born a year...

School starts back up on Monday--which means I need to start blogging again. See you soon, chicklets!

We were sitting in church, and I could hear my mother singing. It sounded pretty good. “Mommy, why don’t you sing in the choir?” I ask her. “Because my voice isn’t very good,” she replies. But it sounded just right to me. She was definitely choir-worthy. Then I started back to drawing with my crayons. Crayons were quiet and, while I was drawing, I was more likely to listen to the sermon. I was in a school play, and we were singing “The Eyes of Texas.” I had to make a giant Texas with eyes on it, but I couldn’t...

I was recently having dinner with a neighbor. We’re trying to get to know one another better. We attend the same church, but she’s over ten years younger than I (I think), and we hardly cross paths in our fairly large congregation. It’s a shame. Here we are…living right next to each other, but not growing closer due to the different demands made on us from our varied stages of life. But we’re trying to bridge the gap—a good thing. And even though she seems to be handling it with grace…the only problem I foresee for Marianne, my sweet neighbor,...

I have a couple of friends (married to each other and highly intelligent) who work with and conduct research using frogs--Xenopus frogs, in particular. In fact, one of them has his doctorate in developmental biology. And every year at Christmas I like to send them a little gift with a frog theme because I think I’m funny, however unoriginal. So a few years back I sent them a Hatley mug and a sleepshirt with frogs on both items. I think the sleepshirt said something like “Hop into bed!” with a giant, leaping frog emblazoned across the front. It was pretty...

I've finally added the 'About Me' section to the blog. If you want to learn more...um...about me, click on the link at the top, left corner above the music player. Thanks!

Author’s note: I’m doing so much better now. :) My internal monologue late in 2011: La, la, la, la, la…I feel so good. I love being in my forties. I can run over five miles, and I barely weigh more than in high school. Look at me! I feel twenty-seven…actually better! I should give myself lots of pats on the back…I’m not sure why, but still… My internal monologue early in 2012: Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. If only I could lie on my back and read…or watch TV…or anything. If only I wasn’t limping, if only I could feel...

I love to write bittersweet things…bittersweet stories. They’re therapeutic after all. If I can get in a good cry while writing, I would imagine it has the same effect on me as some kind of mood-softening drug. It’s pretty great. But…in truth…I’m anything but a bunch of sugary, gooey goodness. Nope. Yet I fear many of the things I’ve written over the past several months may have given the impression my life is one humongous ball of bright, happy moments. Sometimes it is. Still, my difficulties may have been glossed over, and (never in my wildest dreams) would I dare...