Rodeos and Babysitting Lil Partna

Hey, You Darlin’ Things! So sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you! I got in from Israel just in time to love on Melissa for 48 hours then hop on a plane and head to San Francisco. Then I got back, loved on Melissa 24 short hours before she jumped on a plane and headed back to Chicago. THEN, I studied all day Monday and Tuesday and taught Bible study last night. WHEW!!!! Like most of yours, my life is crazy but not usually that crazy. This morning was the first morning I’ve felt vaguely normal and time-adjusted in two solid weeks. Anyway, enough of the boring excuses.

I don’t know how long I’ll get to write because I am babysitting Little Mister Jones. He’s finishing up his afternoon nap while his mommy is on her way to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo to see Rascal Flatts with three buddies from our home church. (Keith and I get to have Amanda and Jackson all week because our dear Curt is ministering with a team from their church in Honduras.) Amanda looked so cute and youthful when she scurried out that door in her cowboy hat, jeans, and boots. If she’d only had a horse tied up to the rail on the porch, the scene would have been perfect. BUT, if she had to take wheels, at least it was a Suburban instead of some foreign model. That would be a sacrilege in a rodeo parking lot. The sight of Amanda heading to the rodeo pushed the rewind button on my brain to a time when she, a young adolescent, and her handsome, rugged Dad and Granddad did the 2-day trail ride on horse back. (At her insistence. Not theirs.) After riding themselves bow-legged, they made their coveted destination on downtown Main Street with all the other trail riders to take part in the big parade leading up to the most celebrated annual event in Houston. Such fun memories. Till his mommy gets home late tonight, Lil Partna will just be “riding little horsey down to town, whoops little horsey, don’t fall down” on Gran-Bee’s knees. (No, he hasn’t started calling me anything yet. Believe me, you’ll know when it happens.)

I haven’t forgotten that you want to hear some things about the Israel trip and rightly you should! You put in some serious prayer! I just haven’t had the moments of concentration I need to write it. I’ll tell you one thing now if Lil Partna will let me. We had a few minutes off while we were in the Old City in Jerusalem and I asked the team if I could have a little while to pray at the Wall. Of course, I could only go to the women’s side, well partitioned from the official side where numbers of Orthodox Jewish men prayed. Dressed in black coats, slacks, and hats with ringlets dangling in front of their ears, they rocked rhythmically and reverently, reciting their prayers. The sight is always very moving to me somehow. After preparing my heart for a few minutes, I stepped up between several other praying women and pressed my forehead against the cold stone. As I called out to God, I realized it had been exactly seven years since the last time I prayed at that Wailing Wall. In those few minutes, I recalled the searing pain that pierced my heart those years ago and how I cried out for healing. Fast forward seven years, I marveled over how God had heard my cries and restored my shattered soul. Life has never gotten easy – and much of the time it’s dang hard – but I realized my heart had received restoration I really didn’t think was possible. I thought I’d hurt just like that for the rest of my life. Other hurts will come. But Christ will also come…with healing in His wings. You don’t have to go to Israel to find a Wailing Wall. Any place will do. Just cry out to Jesus.

I am now typing with one hand. Lil Partna’s up. Got some grannying to do!

We felt it was right fittin’ to take this photo in front of Pa’s prize buck.


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