rabbits on trails

I recently read through all of my unfinished blog posts....and decided to combine some of them here as they would most certainly never be shared otherwise....let the rabbit trails begin:

 Making for a better story later:

How does one begin...after such a long silence? Well with a spontaneous poem, naturally :-)

I've been gone a long while....
but I hope to make you smile....
by writing this rhyme...
at just the right time....
when you need a free laugh....
or a little brown calf....
well, I don't have a cow....
but I'd like one somehow...
I'd call her "Miss May"...
and she'd graze and eat hay....
the milk would be raw....
and it'd make us grow tall...
and my husband who farms...
would make fig jam in jars...
'cause men are from mars...  (My Mom wrote the last sentence- she's so creative ;-)

I've been thinking of changing the name of my blog site. This idea has been pin-balling around in my head and maybe its time for a change. Whats that you say? Oh, I know, I know....it WILL take so much work to track down ALL of my followers and tell them where they can find me at my new ip address...yet the idea rolls on.... This one phrase keeps popping into my mind at moments when life feels meaningless or the idea of purpose seems to have been lost in yesterdays.  When I get discouraged about what kind of life I'm living, what kind of story I'm telling, I encourage myself and say, "Julie, don't worry, this is all making for a better story later."  So I'm thinking of changing my site to "making for a better story later."  We'll see.  I am turning 28 soon and I'd like to revive my "late twenties," with something exciting..... so maybe I just WILL buy a cow ;-)

 The guy from art class: 

I haven't been writing.  I have this love/hate relationship with my blog.  It's sorta like an ex-boyfriend that you still have feelings for... he keeps coming up in your mind but, ugh....its painful in the pit of your stomach to let yourself go there...  here I am though- back again, because I think it is good for me to write.  I gotta get some of this mess out of my head! 

So this random thought came to my mind today.  I remembered someone. This kid who shared a table with me in one of my high school art classes. Let's call him.... Joe. He was a bit nerdy.... wasn't the prom king or one of the "in-crowd" and I honestly didn't really know much about him....except that he was so very kind and we had to stare into one another's eyes for quite a long time for our project to sketch the face of your fellow student.  When I remembered him, I saw that he had written something so sweet in my yearbook about how much our friendship meant to him......"our friendship?"  It's amazing how something that you don't even know you are doing can effect someones heart.  Sure, I was a nice girl in high school but if I had it to do over again, I would have totally been best friends with Joe and he probably could have taught me things I unfortunately had to learn the hard way.... I'm sure he had a deep well of wisdom in his head.... especially because he wasn't preoccupied with chasing girls or being the best at football.  He was just.... genuine.  Anyway, you never know how much the slightest bit of kindness might mean to someone.... and you never know how the dorky kid from high school might teach you great lessons someday when you're 28.

Cheese Whiz and cubes from China:

I haven't been sleeping :-/ ....an unfortunate issue I have much of the time. BUT instead of just counting the sheep that jump across the back of my eyelids, I'm gonna blog it out. The thoughts are numerous and the night drags on...so I shan't waste it! Blog on sister, blog on...
Yesterday I unfortunately partook of some "cheese product." Now, this is not normal for me. I like genuine cheese, especially from a farm around the corner. Why, when bonified cheese is just a short drive away, where I can stare the very cow in the face from whom this cheese originates, would I consume the alternative product that slyly goes by "cheese," as it makes fools out of us 'mericans who have come to believe that the consistency of cheese must resemble that of rubber cement? We no longer have need for you, cows! You heifers just take your milk elsewhere...we are all set here with our maltodextrin and yellow # 5....and we are juuuuuuust fine. If I have a cow someday...which would be a dream (who even says stuff like that?)... I would name her yellow # 5 just for the irony of it. I would milk her, make cheese, and put "yellow # 5" on the label, and only the brave and witty would buy it :-)

I sit here on my bed, and as I take a big whiff through my nose....I smell change on the horizon.  Well, change and bone broth. No, bone broth is not some type of fancy analogy for something, I'm just literally cooking it downstairs and it smells lovely. They should make a candle scent for "bone broth." Nay, people should just make more bone broth....AND people should say, "nay" more often. Come to think of it, attitudes like, "they should just make a candle scent from that," have probably contributed to why people have stopped making bone broth.....convenience. Why would people take the time to make bone broth when you can buy it at the grocery store in a convenient cube...and why make blueberry muffins when Yankee Candle has that very scent, all you need is a match! Don't worry, this isn't going to be a blog about food, and I'm not going to try to encourage everyone to go watch a documentary on why chickens should roam free and cows should eat grass (but I do know a few good ones if you need some recommendations ;-) I will end with a telling quote from my Dad at dinner. I was talking about how I had read that we don't make bone broth in America much anymore, whereas in most other countries, they still use it to make savory sauces and tasty soups. I told them that I had read that we export much of our chicken parts to China and they make bone broth out of them....and my Dad responded, "yea and it probably comes back to us in those cubes."I thought this to be hilarious and probably so true- and of course- it got me thinking...

As He giveth and taketh:

Something happens when you see worship that is seemingly out of context. I once heard a story about a woman who was on her honeymoon, and while her and her new husband were doing some kind of deep sea diving, tragically, he drowned. The woman said that she was so completely stunned and inconsolably broken, all she could do was lift her hands in worship and desperation.  Wow. What a way to spend a moment.
Can't help but think of the moments I've wasted. Time wasted in fear or anger...even now, I can feel them rallying to take me down.  I can only pray that God would gain glory from the moments I have left.

 Some days i think it will crush me:

The benefit of being a deep feeler? You feel joy...deeply. The price? You feel everything else... deeply. There was a movie out called Timothy Green or something....about a boy born from a garden to parents who had desperately prayed for a child. I haven't seen it but, being the feeler that I am, I was touched by merely catching the preview on TV. I don't cry at everything on television.... usually its only when I feel connected to the character or situation...BUT I found myself sobbing at a re-run of Grey's Anatomy last week and now I'm starting to worry a bit...especially since it was the second time I've watched the episode....and when this one character dies in the plane crash after another character declares his love for her....oh man- I felt like I was loosing my sister or something! I know, I know...probably none of you know what I'm talking about because you would not stoop so low as to watch that debaucherous show.... let us pause a moment, while Jesus draws a line in the sand to distract you from my sin ;-) I need something to happen and you know how I can tell?  I cry at Grey's Anatomy.  If this show seriously has the ability to evoke emotion from the depths of my soul....I'm in trouble. It is a beautiful thing to be able to feel, though.... at least its a sign that I'm still alive and kickin'.

Can I get some butter with this Manna?

As time keeps on healing.... open wounds are scarring over and the twinge in my chest eases just a little more.  The feeling of getting to the "other side" after a long, hard season rivals only the taste of an amazing cheesecake or how I imagine it will feel someday when I'm accompanied by something borrowed and blue as I make my way down an isle on my Dad's arm as we..... step.....together....step together.....(hopefully, gracefully and without tripping ;-)

I often hear those in the Christian world compare a truly sanctifying time as being in the "desert." Some seasons can only be equated to a place with dry, cracked ground where all you do is sweat and toil, while experiencing constant cotton-mouth because of the lack of dasani! Oh to be on the other side of this type of season....sigh...and to learn to be grateful for the manna He provided along the way.

God's provision can be (and usually is) so different from what we would have planned it to be.  I'm learning this as we speak.  This was my type of plan for my 28th year of life: to be a successful, loving wife and mother (or at least with a bun in the oven ;-) ...maybe having a job that I love and a God that I feel led by and loved by and can therefore pour out that love to the broken..... probably living in the warm southeast somewhere, or in a third-world country loving Orphans or something......
.....and yet this is my manna in my 28th year of life: to have moved into a 55-and-older neighborhood in the northeast (where goosebumps have permantly taken up residence on my arms) .... My finger is ring-less and my oven... bun-less, as I face the things my heart has cowered away from for years.  I'm letting God heal the broken places as I eat this bread that floats down in ways that I, in all of my own wisdom ...would have never chosen for myself.  Instead of being amazed at the bread that's falling, I find myself unsatisfied, asking things like, "uh, yo Pops, could I at least get some butter for this manna-stuff!?" 

Perspective is a marvelous thing to grab hold of... yet it's easy for our wandering eyes to lose sight of it amongst the mirage of temptations that appear in a desert season to distract us from the daily bread.  The lack of shade, yet abundance of bland bread usually bring out a human's inner-Kindergartner as we get our pout face on....unless of course, you have successfully slid through the "suffering and perseverance" part of the growth process, and have comfortably emerged wearing "Character and Hope ;-)" For most of us, perspective tends to bear it's fruit later...like once you reach an oasis or the top of a mountain where you can gaze upon the beauty of the journey you wrestled with to get here. It's much more challenging to let thy sweet words of gratitude well up inside and roll off the tongue, when the only nourishment in sight are these sky-falling-wafers that literally translate to mean, "WHAT is it!?"

It's hard to find joy in a dry place, but its there and the desert won't last forever..... forty years might be a possibility... but not forever ;-)  Often times, the waters of joy begin to seep up toward the surface and fill the cracks once we give ourselves to gratefulness and open our eyes to the miracle of manna that surrounds us.... that helpless toddler that tries your patience, that spouse who sanctifies your spirit, that job that brings home the bacon, those encouraging words from a faithful friend.... but of course, none of it fills up your belly and satisfies your soul like the bread of life.

As I type this, the snow falls outside my window, its reflection like glitter under the street lamp... and this scripture comes to mind from Isaiah 55:

As the rain and the snow 
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it without watering the earth 
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Jesus.... our Manna... living water.... the bread of life.... who came down from heaven to be broken for us so that we might never again hunger or thirst.

So...Manna.....WHAT is it, you ask?  It's wonder bread, (but not the stuff you grew up eating in your school lunch with the crust cut off), and it's falling from heaven!  Enough said, right!? :-)


Much, much love,

Julie

scars to prove it.

I was reading a review of a movie about faith the other day. I didn't watch the movie so I can't really comment on it, but people seemed to give it positive reviews....things like, "it is so refreshing to see a faith-based film that is not cheesy...." Yea, makes sense. I thought that comment sounded nice and it made me want to give the movie a try. The following review, however, had a phrase that lay stuck to my brain like a burnt cookie to an ungreased pan: "this is a great movie because it’s not slamming God in your face." I mean, I totally get that.... I understand what the person was trying to communicate; it just rubbed one of my arm hairs the wrong way... and then all of the other tendrils followed suit. I've heard things (and probably said things) similar to this before.... phrases like, "yea it was great, they didn't shove God down your throat." I'm a little stunned, to be honest. I'm stunned at the ease with which we open our mouths to form words and noise that make the Creator of the universe out to be someone who could possibly be, "shoved down a throat"....or "slammed in a face...." -as if we were big enough to encompass Him to even be able to do the shoving. The thought that we would see ourselves fit to take on the task of making Him palatable for the masses.... trying to prove Him to the onlookers that are the very work of His hands. I'm stunned at the pride of such a thought- at the darkness of my own irreverent heart. And the burnt cookie isn't budging....

My faith hasn't come easy to me. I don't have a specific "moment of salvation"- I don't remember getting baptized and emerging to see blurry white doves flying over me as the water was blinked from my eyes. There was no halo.... and I didn't feel even the slightest feathery brush of an angel's wing on my skin. No. For me, it has always been a struggle to just believe. Believing, for me, was as easy as breathing.... and I grew up with asthma.... a convenient word picture for my faith story: wheezing. If I could just get a deep breath in, I would be able to calm the unrest inside and release carbon dioxide as a gift to the nearest plant... but this has not been my journey. Mine has been, and continues to be, more like asking Jesus to let me put my fingers through the wounds on His hands. I don't just gotta "see it to believe it"..... I gotta feel it too. I often wonder what the ratio is of pride to mere wonder that's inside of me. I know that I have a skeptical side... which is not always a bad thing, but I also know it can be a gateway drug that often leads to pure unbelief. My lifeline in this struggle? That God is merciful. That He is full of grace and compassion, and in response to my need to investigate, He extends His Holey hand to allow my little fingers to touch the wounds as my eyes lift their gaze to His face in awestruck bewilderment. Can you imagine what "doubting Thomas" did after Jesus actually let him do this!? I would imagine he probably fell to the floor in adoration.... and in thanksgiving... that Jesus didn't deny him that desire- though He had every right to.

So.... It would be an honor to be slammed in the face with the One true God.... with pure holiness and majesty.... go ahead.... slam it in my face.... and let His goodness pass before me. If there was a movie that could succeed in doing this- it would be most welcomed :-)

Though He was God and "no one could take His life from Him," He sacrificed it voluntarily. He actually did let Himself be shoved and slammed. He wore skin and placed Himself in the hands of His creation, to be spit upon.... beaten and bruised... with scars to prove it. The humility of it all! It's UNthinkable. There has GOT to be a reason for this! You may be reading this and you may not believe, but you have to admit.... there has to be some sort of reason for this kind of act. Or maybe you think it just never happened. That's fair- I've been there too. In fact, I would say that doubt is a thorn I find myself repeatedly plucking from my side. It's Okay though, because you know what? He is the bigger man here. So much so that He would be so big as to stoop so low to kneel down and let me touch the wound so that I can take in that deep breath of faith. I grew out of my asthma... I can only hope that one can grow out of doubt as well :-)

We must decrease. Though our own hearts deceive us, and an enemy prowls to devour our very souls, we must fight to have Him increase. To have Him increase in us until we are brimming with a Spirit, Holy- as He is Holy.

With love,

Julie

A Man's Promise

I wouldn't be able to do this justice from my keyboard.... so just click and watch:

Much love,

Julie

somewhere between my green skirt and holey jeans

Oh man...I need to write.  I just had a time of speaking in which my volume was higher than normal and my heart rate was elevated (a more ladylike way of saying that I just yelled for a while).  I obviously need to process. Oh how these situations make me wish I was an introvert that could sneakily process my own crazy thoughts in my own safe head without the need to externalize them into the unsafe world where I leave the conversation feeling vulnerable and drained.  Oh to be an introvert....I think in my glorified body in heaven I might be an introvert.....here's hopin' :-)

As it is, this is the way God knit me together.....like a scarf that needs to process its feelings out loud.  The scripture talks a lot about the difference between fools and those who are deemed wise, and it often boils down to this (oversimplified) fact: Fools vent their anger....but wise people quietly hold it back.  Sigh....sounds so nice and dainty.....and so very difficult to carry out.  I'm working on it though- maybe I'll start wearing heels and pearls and carrying one of those fancy fans around the house to remind me to be dainty.  I'm not trying to poke fun at the scripture here....and I know I'm exaggerating...God is not claiming that a wise lady = a quiet girl who carries a fan and faithfully works on her etiquette.  I do so long to be wise and virtuous though.  I want to listen MORE than I talk and I want to THINK a whole lot before I release words into the wild where they escape the ability to be reigned back in.  As it is with most things in life, this too, is a process.  I'm tired.  This being human stuff.....the learning and growing....it sucks sometimes....ahem, I mean it is a bit of a challenge (she says daintily in an English accent as she sips her tea without slurping ;-)

I will clarify that, though this post is sprinkled with silliness, I'm actually speaking on something much deeper than mere girlieness.  It's an unspeakable kind of presence that I want to exibit when I walk into a room...that can only be described as...exuding the nature of Christ.  I know some "southern belles" that, (bless their hearts ;-), can walk into a room appearing so sweet and kind-natured....and it's not this that I'm speaking of.  I know some "northern gals" that, (insert northern pun here), can walk into a room with a kind of jarring confidence.....and it's not this that I'm speaking of either.  I'm talking about somewhere between my green skirt and my holey jeans. Huh?  I have this green skirt that, when I wear it, it makes me feel like a lady and a little more reverent.....and then I have a favorite pair of ripped jeans that make me feel comfortable and relaxed.  This place I'm talking about lies somewhere between the two.....where I can just be both....where I can be all He created me to be and I feel valued and loved because He has allowed breath in my lungs for another day.  Beauty really does not come from outward adornment.....uh oh...and what is the next part of that verse!? "....rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight." ....oh man....there is that quiet theme again ;-) God, have mercy on the extroverts.

I've seen some people go on "speech fasts" before, where they decide not to speak for a certain period of time so as to gain a spiritual insight they may not have gained if they were talking.  Now, I've mainly seen this result in much frustration from the surrounding people who are tired of feeling "ignored" by their speech fasting friend.  I'm sure that there is value in this practice sometimes though....maybe?  On second thought, it does make me laugh a little to think of one of the disciples asking Jesus a question, in which His response would be to hand them a piece of paper with the note, "I am on a speech fast." Just doesn't seem like something He would do. Oh my.....we are trying though, aren't we...we are trying to take on the nature of His character...and I do think that even our desire to do so must bring Him joy. 

The thing is, Jesus just knew when to speak and when to keep silent.  He had no problem standing up against injustice and idolatry, while also having the capacity to keep silent like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Oh to be fully God and fully man.....to exude both qualities of an extravert and an introvert.....seems so much "easier" to go through life being fully God.... but I know I could not drink the cup that Jesus drank....and this is why we bless His name.  because we don't know what we are doing. because we were in desperate need for someone to take our place....someone who could handle it.....someone who walks into the room and has that unspeakable presence.  Please make me more like you God....and yes, I know that means being quiet and gentle when it is my nature to yell against injustice...it would be easier to accomplish if I could just learn it by wearing heels and pearls and practicing etiquette...but I desire transformation in the inmost parts.   Teach me your ways, oh God.

With Love,
Julie

going to the dentist counts as persecution

I don't intend to write much about my recent dental experience, except for that it felt like they were scraping my teeth out with Captain Hook's...... hook.  Seriously, we should get jewels on our crown in heaven for each grueling visit we suffered through to get our teeth cleaned.  I know not everyone has this experience at the dentist.  When I was relaying my story to my friend Amy about my visit, she brought up her fond memories of "Mr. Thirsty," the little suction tube that gets rid of all of the spit in your mouth .... while they go to town digging around your teeth and making your gums bleed (I guess the latter part of that was my memory).  I laughed at our shared childhood experience when she brought up "Mr. Thirsty."  Its so funny how you think only YOUR dentist had a clever name like that for the spit suction hose.  

I need to write today.  I haven't been writing and I don't even know if anyone's reading anymore, but that's okay.  I've thought of lots of things to write about but then I realize how trite and introspective they are and I hesitate to continue to make it all about me.  I actually started writing a blog post the other day and it was one of those pour your heart out sessions where the words are coming at record speeds and when you pause and look back at the witty, well-communicated display of your heart, you feel like you can breathe again after having let some of it out..... and then.... you accidentally delete it.... and then... you cry.

I seriously did cry. Not a huge melt-down or anything.... not like I was in Kindergarten.... it was maybe a good quality, third-grade hissy fit and then I went to sleep.  In all seriousness I was so disappointed.  It took a lot for me to write it all out.... just to have it wash away in a sea of nothingness. I dare not try again... no, its too soon :-)  So there it sits in my draft folder.... the empty void of what would have been.... a daily reminder of things lost.  I know, I'm really milking this now.  You see, I have to turn it into humor for it to have gained some sort of purpose.  So now that I have done that, I can gladly just.... let it go.

In other news, I'm almost done with school and have been toying with the idea of moving somewhere.  I really would like some clarity on where that should be- so if you are reading, and you have some ideas.... or if you feel like moving, but can't and you want to live vicariously through me... feel free to share any input! :-)

In other than that news, my Cousin is getting married.  She asked me to be a bridesmaid and to sing in her wedding.  So that will be fun and excitin'!

I've felt the need to "get away" so I'm thinking of making a trip down south after we have our early family Christmas up here.  I recently reconnected with one of my best friends from childhood.  We used to walk to each other's houses through the woods and I'm feeling a blog post arising as I mention her. Yes, Kristi, I may even attach a clip of the "trip to outer space" we did for our class project in middle school... or when we were "enchanted trees" together in The Wizard of Oz .... or I will just save us both from an eternity of internet embarrassment and just leave everyone wondering :-)

Much love,
Julie  

blog is cheap

I almost gagged when I saw a news blurb on the TV about "how not to go into holiday debt this Christmas." Holiday debt... does this seem like an oxymoron to anyone else?  Don't worry, I'm not going to go into a whole "Jesus is the reason for the season" spiel, ‘cause He wasn't even born in December anyway....but don't worry, I'm not going to go into that whole spiel either.  I'm tired of all of that.  I'm so tired of hearing or reading about all of the controversy...on both sides.... about all issues.  Seriously, I'm tired of even hearing myself think.  I don't mean to be unloving, but enough is enough already...

I've always been fascinated by theology and even considered going to seminary at one point.  I was born pondering the why?, how?, and who? and something just felt intriguing about the thought of listening to (usually grey-haired) men go back and forth about the attributes of God or the truth of the gospel over a warm latte' and a cigar- or maybe a scotch on the rocks or something....yea that sounds just edgy enough ;-) (not that this is what professor's in seminary do, its just in my dream land, okay? Just go with it).
While I still think seminary could be cool, and I have nothing against it, I've begun to have distaste for the thought of so much discussion about God over becoming the very movement of God on the earth.

I know that talk is cheap, and you know what, blog is cheap too.  There are an innumerable amount of bloggers trending cool vintage looks while tweeting some thought-provoking quote from A.W. Tozer and insta-graming pictures of the gluten-free cake they just made for their son's vegan birthday party.... What? …Too much stereotyping in one sentence? Well, don't get too offended, because I am one such blogger...well not really. I am in theory, minus the fan base and the vegan children (my one-day children will be carnivorous). 
I can't live up to the coolness- seriously, I can't- and I'm sorta tired of trying to.  I know I can tend to go overboard sometimes (like Peter in the Bible...whoa! get it...overboard.....like he did out of the boat)...totally unintended pun.  Anyway, I know I can.  My passion can get the best of me and before you know it, I'm pointing Uncle Sam's finger at YOU from a platform, (which nobody gave me), and explaining why you should be drinking raw milk and why refined sugar is the reason that everyone dies.  Okay so maybe I don't go that far, but I do have thoughts about certain things...but just like Faith without works is dead, conviction without personal action is a dead man walking.  I wonder why God gave me such strong convictions, not just about raw milk, but about issues like racism and abortion, yet He really gypped me in the area of will-power or self-control, which really makes it difficult to change the world through my own efforts....and maybe that is the point…that I can’t.
Maybe, I'm getting better as I grow?  Maybe God will think of me as "a rock" by the end of my life....or maybe He is seeing me through different lenses, and He thinks of me this way, even now.  

You know what would be truly cool?  If I could just lay my life down for a friend…That is the greatest love.  I'm tired of reading books and being introspective.  I'm tired of trying to eat the exact right things. I’m tired of feeling so overwhelmed at the ABUNDANCE of choices, when I have to go into a Babies R us to shop for a baby shower gift.  How have we managed thus far...without wipe warmers and pee-pee tee-pees? (If you don’t know what those are, then you haven’t been to nearly enough baby showers lately, my friend)   
I do better with fewer choices and less talk. I mean if I was in Uganda right now, there wouldn't be much theology to quarrel concerning the gospel, because I would be too busy living the gospel.  I'm not saying we can't do that here in the states, but it is definitely harder...harder to be in need of God, or at least to recognize that need.  The need is covered up by the fluffy pillow I am sitting on and the bowl of cherry cobbler that my neighbor just brought over...dang you, refined sugar! You will be the end of me! ;-)  Don't misunderstand me to be saying that we must take a vow of poverty or do penance by depriving ourselves of anything comforting.  I don't believe that to be true. I do, however, wonder what Jesus meant by, "Sell everything you have and follow me," and if I am doing any such thing.  One thing I do know is that I am altogether unsatisfied and I have plenty. The satisfaction that I seek is not fulfilled in cherry cobbler or a hot shower, though those things do bring comfort for the moment.  I hesitate to type this, for fear that I will be wishing I hadn't in a few weeks...but I have decided not to buy any new clothes for a year.  This idea came as I was cleaning out my closet and was embarrassed at the thought of how many people I could clothe out of my one closet. 

Isn't life more than food, and your body more than clothing?  No, but I so want it to be. 
So I'm going to start with this and try not to despise my day of small beginnings, because if I am faithful in a little, I will be entrusted with much.  I have a lot of "little" to go, but maybe the "much" will be me surrounded by precious orphans someday. 

Embarrassingly, abundantly clothed…
Julie