Hey, Siestas! It’s Saturday morning and I’m at AJ’s having so much fun. I flew up yesterday afternoon so that Jackson and I could have a date last night. We made Mommy and Daddy go to the movies. He and I are watching Wonder Pets so I’m going to see if I can drop you a note really quickly while he’s preoccupied.

Something so fun has happened in the last few weeks. Jackson has discovered words and he says everything under the sun. (He can say Bible and knows what he’s talking about! Oh, the joy!)In the midst of an exploding vocabulary, he’s started calling me a name! Yahoo-Jah!!!!! (He named Keith first – PawPaw – and I may never hear the end of that.) I think my granny name is going to evolve into “BeeBee” but right now it’s more like “Bibby” with a big accent on the second syllable. So darling I can hardly stand it. His little lips make the cutest shape when he says it. (He’s saying it right now. I think I’m on borrowed time. Writing fast. If I have a ton of type-o’s, you’ll know why.)

So, anyway, last night after I rocked him a long while, laid him in his crib, covered him with his blanket, and slipped out of the room, he stood straight up in the bed and started calling, “BibbEE!! BibbEE! BibbEE!” He never cried. He just called me over and over. Too much to resist! It was everything I could do not to go get him. I kept thinking to myself, if I give in to this, I’m going to ruin that darling child’s good bedtime habits. He’s a very active little guy and the fact that he’s been easy to put to bed at night has been AJ’s saving grace. I paced outside his door nearly laughing out loud, saying, “Oh, my word! Oh, my word!” and wishing I had someone to call so they could hear it. Keith was out of town and cell range so I texted Melissa back and forth for the next thirty minutes to keep the little dude from hearing me. He finally went to sleep and I like to think he dreamed of a fun next day with BeeBee. I woke up really early and could hardly wait until he’d start the name-calling up again and I could go in and get him. And sure enough. (OK, well, actually, it began with a few seconds of Daddy and Mommy but I beat AJ to the nursery door and when I opened it, he said, “BibbEE!!”)

Try to stay on track with me here. Between a toddler crawling on me and giggling, Noggin going strong on the television (don’t even try talking to me about not letting a child watch a little Saturday morning TV) and Beckham barking outside, I’m having a little bout of ADD. Oops. Just got a beach ball in the head. On borrowed time here. Run fast with me. So, last night I just all at once had this revelation. You young moms have already thought it a thousand times and I’m sure I did, too, twenty-five years ago but one of the beautiful things about time is that you get to relearn things as if they’ve never occurred to you before. It hit me how much God loves for us to call Him by Name and that, when we cry out to Him with titles that have become such meaningful endearments to us – such expressions of relationship, those cries are utterly irresistible to Him. Sometimes, because He knows what we need more than we do, it may seem He’s not responding but, in reality, He’s right on the other side of that door greatly moved. And timing His obvious entrance just right.

Simple truth this morning. God LOVES to hear you call Him by Name. A Name that MEANS something to you. A term of deep endearment. When the spirit within you cries out, “Abba, Father!” your voice is irresistible to Him. If you’ll permit this English teacher a double-negative, God never DOESN’T respond. You may not see Him right away but He will be right next to you all along. He hears you and He WILL act at exactly the right time. Somehow it was profound to me. We – fretful, inconsistent children weak in our natural selves – MOVE THE HEART OF GOD. Because that’s the Way He wanted it. Every single time we cry out. Every single time we use His Name and mean it. We are heard. His heart teems with affection and His retraint demands His own long suffering. Take heart!

“Those who know Your Name will trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You.” Psalm 9:10

I so love loving Jesus with you.

You are not going to believe that I was just in the main Living Proof suite (my office is in a different part of the building) and noticed one by one that each of my coworkers had something white in the left corner of their mouths. When I saw the first one, I honestly – and blondely – thought to myself, “Well, now Kimberly has spittle. I am going to have to go whisper in Sabrina’s ear and tell her to go look at it. It must be easier to develop than I thought. I wonder if she has post nasal drip this morning. She sounded a little clogged earlier on the phone.”

Then by the time I saw a few others, I knew. THEN, they all gathered around me in full spittle with the funniest looking expressions I’ve ever seen in my life. I nearly did what women nearly do when they’re that tickled. They were willingly fellowshipping in my humiliation. How could you not love a group like that??? It put me totally over the edge to see Linda, our accountant, fully spittled. Not only is she decidedly less sanguine than several of us and lovingly thinks we’re mostly certifiable, she also is in the middle of our annual voluntary audit with CPAs crawling all over the office. I’ve never loved her more. I’ve never loved any of them more. They simply said, “We go through what you go through.”

Turns out it was white cake icing. They keep licking the sides of their mouths now. I wish I’d thought to do that.

Last night at Bible study, I was in the throes of teaching a very involved lesson when I could not help but notice one of the camera men waving wildly to get my attention. Then, with great emphasis he pointed to his face with both index fingers. OK. I get it. Something was clearly wrong with my face but what, I asked myself. And what that hasn’t been wrong with it for the last 5 decades? I did first what you would have done. I checked my nose. “Oh, please Lord, not the nose.” Thank God, I didn’t feel any kind of foreign object (praise You, Lord, for manifold mercies!) and for a moment I felt relieved. Then the camera man waved and pointed again. Aerobically. I hoped against hope that he was having a breakdown of sorts. Was he caught in a loop perhaps? It happens. I tried to go on teaching. More waving. More pointing. Just the one guy. Every one else acted like all was well. No one stopped me to fix anything so I thought to myself, “What could be bad enough to keep waving at me about, but not bad enough to stop me?” Lipstick on my teeth, I decided, so I did the tongue over the teeth thing. Meanwhile I was trying to teach my class a very difficult literary structure in Esther. More waving.

It looked this time as if he were pointing to his cheeks, so I had my class look at a Scripture and I swept both sides of my face subtly with my hands. I thought maybe my lip plumper had shifted and caused swelling in my cheeks. More waving. Pointing. At least twenty minutes later during one of the most intense classes I’ve ever taught, I knew nothing else to do. I pulled out a Kleenex and wiped my whole face as if I were a sweaty boxer who’d just gone to his corner to spit the blood out of his mouth into a bucket. And finally the camera man’s arms dropped to his side and his body slumped over with what I realized later was great relief. And exhaustion no doubt.

I went home with much praise to our God for helping me teach a difficult lesson and helping my class to appear to get it. And maybe even enjoy it. I told my coworker who was driving me home about the camera man chaos and pondered with her what it was about. No idea. I told her I’d check. I got into the house, grabbed my cell phone and called my director on the phone. “Buddy,” I said, “What in the world was all the waving about with the camera man?” Then he said it. “Have you ever seen anyone with white spittle in the corner of his mouth?” My heart dropped into my feet. (I’m laughing so hard I can hardly type. Please laugh with me. Even at me. Go ahead and enjoy this at my expense.) “Yes,” I said timidly and feeling a little light headed. “You had that tonight.”

Spittle. I had that last night.

Fabulous.

Only on one side, he assured me. On the opposite side from where my staff was sitting, explaining why they didn’t stop me and fix it. Which they would have. Because they’re women.

He said, “In all these years we’ve never had this with you. Are you doing something different or just feeling intense?” Actually, I was trying something different. I was trying spitting on myself during class. Not really. I was trying this brand new spray they make for singers and speakers that’s supposed to coat your throat and keep you from getting dry and coughing. I wish I’d read the warning label. I bet anything it says, “Can cause spittle.”

My director is hoping they can fix it in post-production so that those beyond my own patient, loving Houston class will not have to endure the pain of embarrassment for me. But he’s not sure they can.

I am writing to you because I told all this to AJ this morning. And having inherited my strange sense of humor, she said, “Mom, you HAVE to blog about it.” Particularly because of one thing I told her. I said, “Honey, it’s things like this that keep those who are closest to me and work with me from ever dreaming of being jealous of what I do.” My LPM staff shudders at the thought. The spittle nearly put them over the edge. This blog is for anyone out there still entertaining the least thought that you’d feel like a big shot if you did what speakers do. Or for anyone who, in your wildest imaginations, has ever been jealous of this job. Let me help you out here for a moment. Here are a few things I’ve been told through the years – and by those who LOVE ME VERY MUCH and who I LOVE LIKE CRAZY and who are just doing their jobs. And good ones at that. And need to continue to do them. But just so one or two of you can be free and get visions of glamour out of your head, here goes:

“You talk way too fast.”

“You move too much.”

“You jerk around too much. We can’t keep the camera on you.”

“You’ve gotten where you talk too loud but we’ve been discussing it and I think we’ve come up with why…”

“You talked WAY TOO LONG. How are we supposed to edit this?”

“I was so hoping that outfit would work on camera but it just didn’t. It kind of humped up in the back.”

“Remember to blot that sweat from time to time.”

“I think the redder lipstick makes your teeth look a tad whiter.”

“Were you tired in this session? You just didn’t seem to have the same energy. Are you getting enough sleep? Is there anything we can do?”

“Have you developed a back problem? You’ve kind of begun to hunch over when you teach.”

Then there was the new make-up artist hired recently for a product that was being done at a speaking event. She got me ready that morning then watched from the monitor as I taught the first session. She came running to me over the break like a bull out of the pen and headed straight for my nose and commenced to work on it for fifteen minutes. Shading. Powdering. Airbrushing. Sneezing. Then she said, “At least it’s not high def. That will help.”

And those are just the ones I can tell you.

He called it spittle.

PS. If anyone on any of my beloved film crews happens to read this entry, please laugh your heads off with me at all the awkward moments and painfully humbling circumstances God has given us through the years. They are GIFTS. Let’s embrace them. Celebrate with me that it hasn’t been easy. Comfortable. Or stale. We never have gotten the thing down. That’s a good thing. No a bad thing. We are utterly dependent on God to pull it off. Keep teaching me. Keep helping me. Keep humbling me. As one of you has often said, our critics are the guardians of our souls. Furthermore, it makes the nice things you say along the way and all your gracious kindnesses the stuff of blessing rather than ego. I need you badly and I love you madly. Don’t you dare let up. But don’t stop laughing either. It would be terminal to all of us.

Hey, my dear Siestas! Just checking in and seeing how my beloved sisters in Siestaville are doing. It’s a wonderful, lazy Sunday afternoon and I feel full and happy. Full of love because I’ve been with my wonderful church family today, worshipped Jesus with them, and sat with them under the teaching of our marvelous young pastor. Full of prime rib because I talked my man into taking me to Steak and Ale for lunch after church. It’s a steak chain that’s been around forever. If you’ve never heard of it, you probably have something like it in your area. Decor hasn’t changed in thirty years (dark English Tudor) but, thankfully, I like knowing what to expect. The best part is a big salad bar from yester-year with really chunky blue cheese dressing and croutons the size of a deck of cards. Keith and I hadn’t been in a gillion years because he’s too much of a steak snob but I absolutely love it. Steak and Ale was mighty fine, expensive dining back in the day when my high school boyfriend and I celebrated proms and birthdays. Still is.

Then we got home and did our usual routine. Keith went to hit golf balls (either does that or shoots clay pigeons) and I got back in my jammies and in the bed for a Sunday afternoon snooze. Then I sat on the couch with a cup of coffee and watched some of “Fiddler on the Roof.” So good! Laughed and laughed. (“God, I know we are Your chosen people but sometimes can’t You just choose someone else?”) Then Beanie whined to no end until I’d finally come out in the back yard with her. It’s a beautiful, breezy day. Not cool in Houston yet but at least it’s not a hundred zillion per cent humidity. Beanie loves it out here and so do I. She, Sunny, and I are the original Backyardigans. Like a proper birddog, she intermittently sunbathes and then, like a greyhound, jolts up and runs a frantic relay around the yard at full speed, stopping every twenty feet or so to dig in a frenzy while I yell, “Get out of my flower beds!”

Yep, it’s a wonderful Sunday afternoon at the Moore house. Nothing exciting happening and maybe right about now that’s what makes it wonderful. If I’d sit here a while, I could muster up some anxiety over all sorts of things, get all scared over the Tuesday night taping, and even get mad at somebody if I wanted to. But I don’t. Sometimes you just make a choice. I love that line in the movie Tombstone – NOT recommending it, just saying I like the line – when the sheriff tries to arrest Wyatt after a bad shoot-out when he’d put his life on the line and he said something like, “I’m not in the mood to let you arrest me today.” I’m just not in the mood to let the devil arrest me today. I choose peace.

I pray a few minutes of peace and calm over your house. You have to catch them when you can. For those of you who have a house full of younguns, you may not remember what calm is. I didn’t either when I was in your season of life. It’s overrated at times anyway. I’d cash all the calm in the world in for a certain twenty-month old to run through my house, babbling to beat the band. I had the best time with him this week! He is a force to be reckoned with. Talking like crazy. Developing into his own little person and getting as attached to us as we are to him. He cried so hard when his mommy pulled away in the car and we nearly did, too. I was so sad to put up the ten trillion toys all over the house (I think I’m in the mood to exaggerate today) and to fold up his blankets and put them neatly in his crib till next visit. I sure wish I’d been at his house today. His daddy preached at their church and I do dearly love to hear my son-in-law preach.

Well, I just wanted to say hi. Nothing important to bring today. Just taking a break. Feeling me some Sabbath. And basking for just a moment in a Savior who says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.”

I love you a hundred quadrillion.

I am sitting here on the couch in my jammies, Beanie snuggling right beside me, feeling a flood of gratitude for so many things. On the top of my list…

A community of Siestas who prayed like maniacs for me this weekend for the Life Today taping and God heard them. He restrained my cough and cold and did not let me feel achy and fluish like I had the previous few days. He gave me a terrific studio audience (including three of our darling Siestas!) made up of people who didn’t just come to be part of a show. They came to be part of a move of God. Your prayers were practically palpable. I cannot thank you enough. The loved one in such bondage that AJ asked you to intercede for has not resurfaced yet but, considering the power of such prayer, I can’t imagine that she is easily resisting an encounter with Christ.

A staff of some of the most exceptional women of God I have ever known in my life at Living Proof Ministries. They work hard without complaining. They are as different as night and day but as thick as blood. They are free to go anywhere and with anyone they want for workday lunch but most of the time, they choose to go together en mass. They are lavish in their love and support for one another, for me, and for the women they serve. They can talk a hundred miles an hour without a single word of gossip. Amazing. They are a rare breed. And all because they dig the Lord Jesus. Every single one of them is living proof that God’s Word totally transforms lives and resets paths.

Two incredible daughters who inspire me and spill my life with unspeakable joy and each as much as the other. I became a mom 28 years ago this evening. I had only been married 9 months and 3 weeks and it was not going well. I was terrified and deeply troubled and trying to act like I had it all together. Then something not even as big as a good bass, as Keith used to say, interrupted everything. I have never been as disarmed in my life as I was when the labor and delivery nurse placed that seven pound three ounce newborn daughter on my chest. When we had our first minutes alone a few hours later, I carefully unwrapped her, studied her tiny little arms and legs, hands and feet, then baptized her in tears. I could not imagine how something so pure could have come from someone like me. My life changed dramatically 28 years ago. It would be a number of years before I’d trust Christ enough to break out of that prison cell of bondage I was in but, that day 28 years ago, a ray of sunlight came through the window that made me know a different life was out there…and worth fighting for.

A life worth you fighting for, too. And you don’t have to have a baby to convince you. You could just take God at His Word. It can be considerably less painful.

Hey, My Sweet Siestas!
A few days ago I received this picture that someone took in September at the Deeper Still conference. I thought I’d share it with you because it’s got some folks in it I severely love. That’s me and my buddies, Lisa Whelchel and Priscilla Shirer, in the forefront. I am wild about both of them. Priscilla was on the program with Kay and I that weekend (I so wish Kay were in the picture with us!) and Lisa had come to participate, receive a word, and show support for her friends. She, truly, is one of the best friends to people I have ever seen. Priscilla, Lisa, and I are pretty close. (With me that’s a relative term because…well, because of a lot of things, schedules mostly. Quit trying to get me off track here.) We stay as in touch as we can with our crazy schedules. We pray for one another as we travel and speak and usually know what city the other is serving in. Lisa and Priscilla live in the same area and get to be together a lot more than all three of us do, but they embrace me as their buddy and make me feel loved and included in their journeys with Christ.

That fellow in the background of the picture is certainly not in the background of my life. That’s my man and I don’t have to tell you how crazy I am about him. He’s not with me at an event very often because he makes me danged nervous. For the most part, I’ve settled the issue about not needing the approval of a group, but I still struggle with wanting his. And I have it…but sometimes it’s just awkward to have him sitting on that front row and if he says the least critical thing afterward, I’m promptly devastated. You keep getting me off track. Anyway, Keith calls Priscilla, Lisa, and me “Prissy, Sissy, and Missy” and it always makes me laugh.

And, quickly, about that last post on the fashion news: You guys are so much fun. I got a huge kick out of your responses. I’d like to say a three things in response to your responses:

1. I was really moved by the homeschooling mom who asked us to pray for her and said, “I still haven’t figured out if homeschooling is one word or two.” If you happen to be reading today, I just wanted to hug you to pieces. And tell you that you are some kind of woman. Siestas, pray for homeschooling moms today. They have a tough and important job. (If you’re thinking about homeschooling, check out this page on Lisa Whelchel’s web site.)

2. Speaking of being “some kind of woman,” I’d like to respond to our beloved sister who wrote in and said that she was a tomboy and just trying to get a little more comfortable with her own womanhood. As much as I tease about lip gloss and shoes, I want you to know that if you have two X chromosomes, I am your servant. You don’t ever have to put on a pair of capris as long as you live and you’ll still be a real woman to me (far more than that, to CHRIST who created you) and I’ll still feel called to serve you the Word if you’ll let me. To tell you the truth, Christian womanhood is hard for all of us. That’s why we’re doing this thing together. You are welcome here and I love you dearly.

3. That brown jacket several of you asked me about in “Loving Well” was from the store “Forever XXI” (which, of course, we’re not) and you’ll be pleased to know that it was also a steal. BUT, it’s a few years old so I don’t think you’ll find it on the shelf any more. I surely would let you borrow it if I could! I got it in green, too.

Stay in the Word!!! I love you profusely.

WARNING: If you are in a super-serious mood or have totally conquered your superficial side or hate women who like half-prize shoe sales, please read no further…unless you want ammunition.

Oh, the delight that overtook me in my pale pink chenille robe, white fuzzy slippers, and HUGE bedhead this morning when I slipped my Houston Chronicle out of the clear plastic bag and it fell open to the fashion section with these headlines:

Pretty Sizzles, Sexy Fizzles

Get a load of this subtitle: Designers Get Away From Steamy Looks; Now Cute is In

Can I hear a shout of praise?

Here’s just a tidbit of the article: “…something strange has happened with spring 2008 collections: Sex has virtually disappeared. Retailers have used words like ‘pretty,’ ‘cute’ and ‘flirty’ to sum up the looks. ‘Steamy’ and ‘sensual’ have been missing from the lexicon…Cavalli – who has long championed tight leopard prints and plunging necklines – was among those leading the charge. Before his show, he said it was time to rediscover the ‘innocence of a woman.'”

How about that??? Some of us have been saying it for years and, at least for a season, a few designers might be willing to partly agree: we can still dress cute AND (not but) MODEST!

Hallelujah!! Thankfully, my personal Designer already helped me rediscover my innocence (1 John 1:9) but I am mighty glad somebody out there on the runway might have caught on…if just for a second.

PS. And don’t even try to tell me God won’t help you shop if you ask Him. (Thank you, Boomama, for your article on the hunt for Angela Cottrell’s jeans.) And sometimes He’ll help you even if you don’t ask. On the other hand, He’ll also help you leave that frock on the shelf at times. Like when you’re nearly broke or too full of yourself. I’ve noted that God is not always in the mood to go to the mall. But He was in the mood to go with me to Kohl’s discount department store last week. I got such a cute light-weight suit HALF OFF and wore it last night at Bible study. It was $44. What joy! I wore a jacket for $19 two weeks before that from Burlington Coat Factory and was so excited to share the sale with my Tuesday night group that I wore it with the price tag on it.

Okay. I’m done now. And I’m crouching really low because somebody’s going to try to smack me for taking up blog space with this entry and, frankly, I don’t want them smearing my lip gloss.

(If you’d like to see the good fashion news for yourself, go to Chron.com and look for the fashion section of the October 2nd edition. The paper I opened this morning was actually yesterday’s edition because all I do on Tuesdays is Houston Bible Study! Of course, I’m not sure you can tell that from today. I tell you what. I’ll head back to Esther.)

My Dearest Siestas,
I’m still in the mountains and I only have dial-up so I have no idea whether this post will work. I’m going to give it a try. I’ve been up working on Esther since about 7:15 this morning and decided a few minutes ago to take a break and let my mind rest and rejuvenate. I got on-line which itself can be a feat out here in the middle of the forest. As God would have it, I was able to get on our blog and read many of your comments on the “confidence” post. The tears stung in my eyes as I praised Him for you, amened you, and prayed especially for you who I could tell needed an extra revelation of His Presence. I also marveled over the wonders of God’s timing in causing that simple post to be a clear word to many of you as it had been to me. Surely one of the most marvelous mysteries we encounter as a terrestrial creature redeemed but residing so far from Heaven is the prompting of the Holy Spirit. I bet, like me, you have had times when you felt prompted by the Spirit to do something that turned out to be your imagination or an embarrassingly stupid misinterpretation. Or, worse yet, big mistake. Like the time I told a friend whose loved one was in a coma that I felt God had told me He was about to take the loved one Home…and, coincidentally, no sooner had I shared the prophecy than she woke right up. She’s still alive and well many years later and will most certainly outlive me just to spite me. I’m laughing so hard I can hardly keep my laptop still. I don’t know why. I guess because we’re just so danged absurd sometimes, aren’t we?

One of my favorite stories a funny and humble friend of mine told me was about the time she awakened to hear the Scripture reference Philippians 6:13 in her heart over and over. She described how it echoed louder and louder within her like she imagined the voice of God beckoning young Samuel from his bed. She rose to see what personal revelation God would have for her, His dear servant, in that surely profound passage only to find that Philippians ended at the fourth chapter. We both laughed until we cried. I’ve never forgotten the point of that story and have tried since to keep an appropriate measure of tentativeness about what I felt God was revealing to me until it was confirmed or affirmed.

So, aren’t we all taken aback by the wonder that we – stiff of neck and stuffed of ear – really did hear from God on occasion? Oh, the mercy and tenacity of God to make Himself heard amid the clamor and clang of our attention deficit culture and self-absorbed souls! And, oh, to love Him more!

Thank you so much for praying for me to have a fruitful time here in the mountains. God has answered your prayers in a multitude of ways. Not only have I had wonderful times with Him in His Word and am well on my way to meeting my work goal for these four days. He has also greatly refreshed this overheated south Texan with cool forest air, bright yellow aspens, and the warm company of a few good friends who I only get to enjoy here. It’s rainy and chilly today and the only noise right now is the crackling of a fire Keith made a few hours ago before he packed up his tackle box. He trudged through the sagebrush down to the river nearby to do a little fly fishing. Yes, in the rain. He’s a beast. I’m going to study today then later this afternoon we’re planning to grab our binoculars and take a drive to a few of our secret spots in Teton Park where God sometimes puts wild treasures on display for us. Our goal today is some big bull elk. This is the time of year when their antlers are enormous and their distinctive bugling will stand the hair on the back of your neck straight up. I dig looking for wild game as much as Keith. I totally love hunting as long as no guns are involved. God may show us a host of delights this afternoon but even if I only see that handsome, lined face of my rugged man of 28 years on the other side of that front seat, the trip will be terrific.

A few random things before I sign off and hope this blog entry takes:
*Amanda, Curt, and Jackson are going to the State Fair of Texas in Dallas today to eat their annual Fletcher’s Corny Dog (it’s a religious experience for AJ) and to see Boyz II Men.
*When Keith put on his wading boots to fish yesterday, he could not get his right foot in the end of the shoe because something appeared to be stuffed in it. When he turned the boot over to beat on the heel and knock it out, two dead mice fell out on the garage floor.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

I love you.

Hey, You Darling Siestas! I’m packing up and heading to the mountains to write for the next four days but wanted to share a quick word with you that has really spoken to me this week. On Monday, my Scripture in my quiet time was Hebrews 10:35-36 out of the New English Translation and I’ve been saying it all week over myself, my loved ones and anybody who would listen. Maybe you could use it, too. Here goes:

“So do not throw away your confidence, because it has great reward. For you need endurance in order to do God’s will and so receive what is promised.”

Don’t pass over it quickly or lightly…even if you heard it years ago. Absorb what it’s saying. God has made us certain promises that we will only see fulfilled on the other side of a demanding climb. We’re going to have to sweat this one out and feel the burn in our limbs but the reward is going to be “great.” There is something God wants to give you, Beloved, but He’s purposely requiring tremendous perseverance from you in order for you to have what it takes to receive it rightly. Humbly. You will need ENDURANCE to do His will in this particular situation. It will not come easy because it’s too good to come cheap.

In order to try to stop you, Satan is attacking your confidence. Making you feel stupid. Ill-equipped. Or just plain ill. DO NOT THROW AWAY YOUR CONFIDENCE. Without Christ you can do nothing but, with Him, you are capable of things you’ve never dreamed. All surpassing power abides in your jar of clay. Do not shrink back. The God of the Universe looked the world over and found you.

“But you, keep your head…endure hardship, do the work…discharge all the duties of your ministry.” 2 Timothy 4:5

Yes, you have one.

I love you so dearly. AJ will keep an eye on you till I get back!

Good Monday morning, my dearest Siestas! This is the day the Lord has made, Monday though it be! Let’s get an extra shot in that Starbucks today so we can have a little extra energy to rejoice and be glad in it!

I caught myself doing something this morning that made me think of my own walk with Christ then yours, my darling fellow-sojourners, because that’s the way God has wired me. It was still dark outside and I’d just finished my quiet time on the back porch. Our sanitation guys come early so I knew I’d better get the trash out before I missed them. As I was dragging a large trash can down the driveway and out to the curb with one hand, I held the other hand up in the air while I prayed some Scriptures out loud over my beloved son-in-law. It might have been any one of my closest loved ones but I knew he had a Greek test today and I wanted to spend some extra time on him. Suddenly the Holy Spirit made me aware of the sweet irony of what was happening. There I was, dragging a trash can filled with empty dog-food cans, coffee grounds, crumpled kleenex from blown noses, cardboard toilet tissue tubes, dryer lint, a weekend of Houston Chronicles, all manner of to-go food containers and goodness knows what other unmentionables out to the curb while having a holy moment with the King of all Creation.

And I thought to myself, “Isn’t that the way it is?” God’s Word and His ways were meant for real living. If we keep saving sacred practices for sacred life-moments, we will never truly see our theology collide with our reality. We may feel a tad better at church and more spiritually in-tune at Bible study but we’ll never get the fact that Christ meant to infuse Himself into our relentless carpool lines, traffic jams, elevator rides, grocery store check-outs, expense reports, tank fill-ups, and family fights. If we reserve divine moments for divine situations, we are in for long waits and short visits. I don’t know about you but I need Him more than that.

Sometimes we think something is wrong with us because our spiritual lives and disciplines are not glamorous. We frustrate ourselves with the wrong impression that other people’s are. We don’t realize that right in the middle of their quiet times, sometimes they have to jump up and run to the restroom…or nurse the baby…or yell at a barking dog, “Would you shut that up before you wake up every dad-blasted soul in the neighborhood?”

And, yet, right in the middle of real and un-sacred living, something sacred does happen. Though human eyes are blind to the sight, the cloudy pillar of God’s glory really does fall upon us and we, and our trash cans, are enveloped by His Presence. And He is pleased that we got it. That we got Him. And He got us. Right smack dab in the middle of living.

That’s what got me thinking. If God is not about dragging our trash to the curb for pick-up, what on earth is He for?

“The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14

You are deeply loved today.