Saturday, November 19, 2016

Lines from October, Part 1

I bought a car. A 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix. We worked out a reduced deal with 2 paintings thrown in.
Bless Your Name, Jesus.

Thank You also for hours of facepainting. 3 cats, a tiger, a bow, a football, a bluebird, 3 flocks of geese, a dozen woolly bears, pumpkins, candy corn, half-dozen apples, leaves. Something crazy like that. Like 60-80 paintings.
And pumpkins, three (real) pumpkins to take home. I didn't understand why You sent the rain earlier - why it became torrential just when I would have stopped at the farm. Now I see in part: You wanted to give me free pumpkins later. And even a tablecloth for painting class, of all things.
Oh, Lord.

"If anyone chooses to do my will, he will find out whether my teaching comes from God or whether I speak on my own."
-Jn 7:17 NIV

So special when You do things like this. Like prompt me to pray for people who need prayer (and I read their messages later).
Thanks for the small things You helped me do today. Show me Yourself.

It is a miracle, and I don't want to wait long to thank You and recount - Dad told me at breakfast that the trains are back to their old schedule (which happens to be very inconvenient for traveling to school). But now I have a car. I have a car just in time, and I had no idea. Your timing is impeccable.
You are full of perfect jokes.
Thank You.

This has been quite the weekend. It was rich and festial ;) and a feast of friends. Also a lot of practice driving around Lancaster and Columbia.
So, so dear to be with old college friends.

Today was the V's reception, and it was a blissful, windy, sunny, crisp day.
Somehow I'm full and drained at the same time. Refreshed - so refreshed!
But exhausted.
There are so many things I need You to teach me. Presence and intention, peace, graceful good humor, love.
"May it be to me as you have said."

This morning K preached on forgiving our enemies, giving the examples of Jan Huss and Christ. I was pretty sure I had no enemies... but as I think about it, there are people I avoid. That I even find myself wishing did not exist (at least in their current state), or did not have a claim on me.
People that I find it difficult to love.
Show me Your will. Be my first and last. Flow through me. Thank You for caring for me in all the circumstances of this weekend, in the love and hospitality of others, in skill You gave, in safety on the roads, in a working car, in beauty and fair weather. In meaningful connections. In Your Word.

I'm writing from the Infirmary at Camp. It's Thursday evening, my last day off from school until Thanksgiving. A gift of a day, because it gives me the flexibility to be here, although I'm missing some of my inventory #s and may have to come back again.
I'm planning to get up for a "prayer" hour for the second time, tonight. So I'll be heading to bed soon.
Squeeze me.
Please empower me for all these paintings, and give me peace, and care for me. Surround me on every side, as You have been doing. Sharpen my heart. Deepen my mind. Arouse my passion for You, my compassion for others.
Use me in spite of myself.
Feed me bite by bite on Yourself, from Your fingers.
Answer me. Help me to pray.

Thank You for being a friend to me. A true friend. I want to recount some of Your many gifts; I will forget otherwise:

A quiet morning to prepare for church. Wesley indicating "low break fluid" while still in the driveway, and Mom and Dad with a rental this weekend, which meant I could take the Buick to church. Bracing sermon on Tyndale and Your Word. A shared look and smile with K. A little time to catch up with B. C's hug. A note from L, delivered by hand from Australia by J.
The minor prophets. Music - at least a rough recording. Lots of leftovers to eat, including beets. Time to dance to Audrey Assad's "Inheritance".
These gentle moments in bed, by lamplight, with a full moon glowing outside.

Why am I given this, when so many people across the planet only endured today? And why am I still so slow to catch up to gratitude, and fearful for my life and future? I wonder if I'll be some stunted persimmon. Nothing in myself is reliable. You are my only comfort. But then, You only can be. You are more than enough. Baste me with the truth and bake me this whole night long.

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