Thanksgiving 306-333

306. Mom understanding
307. Math makes SENSE now!
308. Dad not getting too frustrated with the book
309. Nerves in my hands– I know when something's wrong
310. Maybe I can play violin again today?
311. Latex gloves to shower in (cannot WAIT for healed hands!)
312. Not needing stitches
313. Mom worrying more about me than the pitcher I broke
314. "It's just a pitcher" and the conviction that flowed from that (how often could I say "it's just a..." and let things go?)
315. Miss Wendy helping Tim, and all she's done so far
316. Tim being able to read due to vision therapy
317. Baby H making progress!
318. O being almost done with surgery
319. Dvorák concert last night
320. The wheel-chaired conductor doing wheelies
321. Mom smiling on stage– so pretty!
322. Worries of mine being silly
323. Concert of mine coming up
324. My conductor apologizing to me
325. Him using MY bowings!
326. My instrument being called a "chin-cello" (not to be confused with a chinchilla, which you DON'T want on your neck :)
327. The Reformation
328. People who stood firm on truth
329. The road they paved for us, because of faith in Christ
330. Having just read "Foxe's Book Of Martyrs", I can appreciate today all the more!
331. Friends sharing Martin Luther pictures on Facebook
332. Finding neat papers
333. Waiting...anxious...hopeful for a letter from K

On God's Love...

Before I even begin today, I am tempted to give up. Or rather, try to give up– I've never been allowed the privilege of being a quitter. This new math equation, it isn't impossible, it isn't even too hard to use, but I don't understand it. And I cannot handle not being able to know WHY.

Why is it written that way?


And that is the question that haunts me all the time: why is it written that way? What is the point of the story of my life having these ups and downs, and why did God write it this way?

"One can imagine a sentient picture, after being rubbed and scraped and re-commenced for the tenth time, wishing that it were only a thumb-nail sketch whose making was over in a minute. In the same way, it is natural for us to wish that God had designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more love but for less.”

~C.S. Lewis

I cannot wish this math away. I cannot speed through the day without feeling anything. I cannot make the cuts on my hand quit aching. But I can remember: This is part of God's love for me. He is sanctifying me and rewriting the story of my life. To ask this away is to ask for His love to lessen.

"being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;" (Philippians 1:6 NKJV)

And therein lies my hope for today.

On Sin And Blood...

We sat on the couch, my dad and I, and we talked about true annual interest rates, and square feet and inches. My engineer dad grew frustrated with the way the book handled annual interest rates, and he tried hard to show me what I really needed to know. So many of our talks have felt like that– "yeah, there's fluff, but here's what you REALLY need to know, Rachel."

We needed to leave for the concert, Mom is playing in it, and we need good seats. So I pull up off the couch and slide new bandages over the cuts on my hands. Washing dishes turned bloody when I crashed the pitcher into the sink wall this morning. And so much of life feels like that– slipping bandages over the broken parts.

Oh, what a reminder– when everything seems hard and my hands hurt... This is the result of sin.

Ugly sin that I tell myself is OK. Sin that (because I committed it) nailed my God and Savior to a cross, and that was far more bloody and painful than my hands are right now.

In fact, my hands are clean. In the glorious paradox of the Gospel, my hands are clean, even though they are covered in His blood. Hands guilty of death.

Because they are covered in His blood.

And even today, I can rejoice in that.

And hate the sin that brings separation from God. Because that is what pain is from.

Oh, and Dvorak performed tonight...I'm thankful. =)

On The Tired Days...

When motivation is lacking for anything....

            Do all for the glory of God.

All other sources of purpose will fail....

             But this one cannot.

Thanksgiving 276-305

276. Finding peace
277. Tweet from Christa Wells– I feel blessed!
278. The meal with K and H and A
279. A "job" offer from church
280. Being called a photographer– for real!!
281. A name for what I'm trying to do!
282. Holding baby A
283. Baby A didn't cry when she was baptized
284. Five baptisms on ONE day (a Presbyterian revival??)
285. New church family members
286. Singing "We Are God's People" in church
287. A pastor who cries– so joyful!
288. The pastor's wife's jokes!!!
289. That I still have orchestra for another year
290. A conductor who makes us laugh– even when I'm staring at the viola section, missing the one who used to lead it
291. That I get to see that first violist sooner than it seems!
292. That I became best friends with that violist, so now I can miss her
293. What she said about missing people being worth having known them, and that she didn't mean that about herself, but it's so true!
294. The Washington friends who live in Cincinnati– oh the memories!
295. Not being ready for this afternoon, but knowing I CAN be ready
296. Being called a perfectionist, and the deep thoughts that produced
297. Not needing to be perfect in everything
298. When I'm not perfect, God forgives
299. He knows my frame, and remembers I am but dust
300. Mistakes turning out okay, and practicing telling myself to calm down– someday I'll listen to myself...
301. A violin teacher who doesn't yell at me, even when I want to yell at myself
302. Food to give energy to conquer this next challenge
303. Playing out in the wind with Timmy
304. East coast friends who face this storm with joy and grace
305. Waiting for messages from people, and how prayer brings answers or peace right away.

On Mom And Absorbing Sheer Impact...

The look I received plunged deep into my pride. It smashed my smile and dropped my heart into the church floor. I deserved it, but pride never accepts blame. It rooted into the crushed bits of my heart and sent weed-like bitterness through my entire being.

She whispered a question and smiled. I glared to express the hurt in me. I wanted so badly to break the quite and cry on her shoulder, to express in words what I cruelly expressed in looks. She knew I wasn't mad at her, but shouldn't I laugh with her instead of glare the anger into her?

But that look didn't spread any further. As soon as it hit her it died. Anger overshadowed by joy. The stress of her morning– planning meals for church– was no problem. The look I gave her was no knife into her, and maybe she didn't even notice, but hasn't that always been the way things are? Always, hurt and anger end with her.

As long as I can remember, it's to her we ran with scraped knees. She was the one who ended the arguments and spread peace as the standard. She, the one with more responsibilities than all of us combined, had the greatest joy. She endured the impact of our looks and words. And she threw back love and joy.

Dear Mom,

I want to be just like you someday.

On Missing...

I'm bundled up warm in my dad's car while writing this. The leaves slipping silently off the trees remind me of the autumns of previous years– in Oregon.

Everyone knows I miss Oregon. While I love Ohio, I do really miss my old home. But it's not just the area itself I miss, it's the memories:

Sweeping pine needles off the porch, waiting for Grandma to arrive.

Grandma. I miss her a lot.

The pumpkin patch we took her to, and how she stayed on the hayride while we picked out our pumpkins. That was when I started to realize that she was old. But it was a few years before her body finally failed her.

The rose garden, the zoo, the book store.

The church, with people I thought I'd always see everyday.

My New-Age neighbor, whose house I took care of. My Christian neighbor, whose garden I cared for. Her Iraqi husband, who made me chew ginger for a stuffy nose.

The concerts my mom performed in that were just right.

The warmth of fall and moderation of winter.

The trees in our backyard.

And yet, I don't totally want to go back. I would have a whole new list of things to miss:

The people at the church. The rooms I spent so much time in.

The snow falling– all winter.

The football.

The beautiful fall colors in this state that lacks pine trees.

The beautiful fog on summer mornings.

The history in this area.

The friend I laugh with all the time.

The friend who returns to this area!

The newness of life here.

Wherever you are, there's something to miss.

Or something to be thankful for...

Rejoice!

On How To Always Win (in every situation!)...

Whenever I workout, I come back sore, but better off for it. When I read the news, I come back sore...any better off?

Maybe.

Today I read about bombs in Iraq during their Eid holiday. It was the worst to read what a dad in Baghdad said: "We feel sad for the children who thought that they would spend a happy time during Eid, but instead ended up getting killed or hurt." (Al-Jazeera English)

I can't imagine... I am so thankful for the safety I enjoy in southern Ohio. While bombs rock Iraq, and storms rock the east coast of the USA, and recovery pains rock Joplin, Missouri, I am comfortable and secure. But it still hurts to hear about such tragedies. How (other than very, VERY thankful) ought I to feel?

On a clear night this week, Tim and I lay on our backs outside, singing hymns while admiring the stars. It seemed absolutely perfect! Peace was on our bit of earth. When we looked at the stars we recognized the work of a perfect Creator, and it made us sing.

When I look at current events, I see the work of a perfect Provider, and it OUGHT to make me sing.

But it doesn't.

If the point of the world is to make mankind comfortable, to bring peace, and to end world hunger, then there is absolutely nothing to rejoice in. No reason to sing. The world is a failure.

However, if the point is to glorify the perfect God Who perfectly planned the course of history to glorify Himself, then there is NO FAILURE! No way the world can be merely a bad place. No way any wrong has no purpose.

And IF that's true, then the most world-changing, destiny-fulfilling, ultimately important thing I can possibly do with my life is, like Job, cry out "Blessed be the Name of the Lord!"

And the army with that battle cry will always win!!

Enjoy your Sunday!




(photo also from Al-Jazeera)

Thanksgiving 261-275

261. Getting a dreadfully needed A =)
262. Learning how to learn
263. An email from J
264. Sleepovers with Timmy
265. ESPN while appliance shopping, and all the conversations it inspired with Timmy
266. John offering to help me
267. Trusting John– always!
268. Movies with the whole family
269. The way Dad smiled when he saw my grade!!!
270. Work to do today
271. Rest for the body and soul tomorrow
272. The preciousness of the Sabbath
273. Funny emails that actually make me laugh!
274. Having CONQUERED the Frankenstein paper
275. New babies at church

On Not Understanding...

This is hard to write. I wrestle with the ideas and words behind this so much that they get caught up in the rafters of my heart and bring about no good change. But here it is:

I do not understand my little brother sometimes. While I usually can guess semi-accurately what he's thinking, and I always know what he means when he says things, there are so many times when I don't understand the silence, or the reason for his thoughts, or exactly what makes him tick. Innumerable times every day I wonder why he says what he says, or does what he does. And when people ask me to explain, I can merely shake my head and say "I don't know".

And I love him. That is even harder to express in words.

I beg God for grace to SEE what I cannot– the reason for who and what he is. But even if I can't see that, I know that there is one Who can, and it is my calling to passionately love this one who was fearfully and wonderfully made by Him.

The spontaneous hugs he gives make tears well up.

The jokes he crack make me shake my head in wonder.

The hymns he sing stretch the corners of my mouth.

The way he looks at me confuses me to no end.

His way of thinking threatens my view of the world.

We play basketball together, and I wonder in the wind about how he sees things. How his heart works, what he thinks of me, and why I can't pry inside.

But maybe I don't need to. He hands me the ball and tells me it's time for one-on-one.  He finds joy in each of us shooting, scoring, and keeping the steadily rising scores even in his head. He laughs, hops, and all around him glows.

This is where we grow, barely talking-- just laughing and knowing exactly who we are in that moment. We are the kids holding the ball, feeling the wind, hoping in the Lord.

And I love my baby brother. Beyond words.

On Fighting A Losing Fight Against Death...

The leaves fell thick on the lawn, and I mowed them back. Around and around on the tractor, herding these dead things that once sought oxygen off from the lawn, where they were currently busy choking life away from the grass.

As I mowed, more and more leaves fell, some clinging to my hair, some traveling across the yard (or hopefully into the neighbor's) to land. It felt like a losing battle– so many more leaves on the trees! The war of autumn is to keep the leaves on the dirt, where they can benefit the trees and slowly return to dust.

And it's like the battle of life against death– the dark cover that blinds, chokes, and deceives being pushed back to let the Light in. But in this world, the mower doesn't always seem to be doing its job. Death rules...doesn't it?

Oh, but not for long! After fall's leaves and winter's snow have been pushed back we WILL see the sun. Darkness lost its power and dominion. Oh death, where is now thy sting?

We are free.

On News and Brave Conversations

I woke up to bad news today, from the Middle East, from the White House, and from my home state– Oregon. It's hard to "rise and shine and give God the glory" when I know what's falling around the world.

I also awoke to a gnawing realization of a hard conversation I needed to initiate.

Why is it so hard to believe God is good when difficult days arrive? And WHY are difficult days so common?

The logical end of it all MUST be that I truly believe that God should only bless and prosper me, and the entire world. Strange, since just days ago I was wondering how it is that God doesn't only curse and strike down us humans...

And that conversation went well. Reconciliation was found. We only scratched the surface of the crust on our hearts, but it was a beginning. We'll keep on cleaning.

The reward for our bravery was hope. Isn't that what relationships are for? To point each other upward to the Hope, remind each other why we breathe, and love as we have been loved.

Hope as a reward: it multiplies. The more we hope, the more reason we have to hope. And hope is born of trust.

I trust God. I know God is good. I know God is in control. I know He has a plan. So I can hope in Him, and know that tomorrow I can wake up, breathe, and hold on to hope.

And I love God! My heart is made complete only in Him. He is all I need.

Faith, hope, and love. Only God working in me could have produced these results!

Over everything we must love. Love cries out for brave conversations– between man and God and man and man. These require faith and bring hope. And hope brings, in the end, joy.

And who doesn't need joy?

251. Teaching mom to drive (the mower) ;-)
252. Fun last night
253. Friends dressed as nuns
254. Timmy saying sweet things about people
255. Love for and with my big brother!!
256. Prayers for far away people
257. A paper organizing my thoughts and beliefs
258. Elvis downstairs right now– weird...
259. Math. Making. Sense. !!!!!
260. A GREAT EMAIL FROM A PRO PHOTOGRAPHER

I Love Fall,

And it loves me!

Thanksgiving List 221-250

Having a hard day, so pushing onward harder– with thanksgiving!

221. Books I don't like that teach me what I ought to hate
222. The truth of the quote on my wall, and how much it convicts me
223. Party tonight!
224. Enthusiastic people– even on bad days...
225. Friends who read this faithfully (thanks, Es!)
226. Scary news that reminds me to trust
227. Being flexible and ok!
228. A hilarious little brother
229. Writing assignments
230. TV shows that I love
231. An afternoon with my little brother
232. Live woodwind trips downstairs
234. Blowing bubbles with Mom
235. Not living a normal life
236. A mom who cares that much
237. Bad days don't last forever
238. Bad days bring dependence on Him
239. A new CD from my favorite singer that I like even more than any before!
240. Waking up refreshed
241. My cold not being bad
242. A friend to be honest with
243. The mower stopped– thankful for quiet
244. Tears, hunger, sickness, just like a baby– I need Him
245. Dad listening quietly and speaking softly what I need to hear
246. Dad making room for us
247. Dad working on his off days to create something for the Navy and the example he sets (can't I be diligent, too?)
248. I can CHOOSE to enjoy today
249. John taking the ASVAB tomorrow
250. Hope– it's always there

On Moving...

Today they are moving! My dear relatives are packing up and driving north! And it hurts both them and me, as I remember that kind of pain.

And I got a message from a friend from my hometown. We used to sit on trampolines together and talk, and neither of us would have guessed that we'd both move across the country. Who would have thought so much would change?

What do you hold on to in a world that shifts when you least expect it? How does a structure-loving girl reconcile herself to the fact that things change?

Hard prayers often accompany times like this. Bending my will. Stretching my attitude, but never my faith! Faith is always the last thing to be a problem, and that cannot be any of my doing. God is present, sustaining our faith.

Wow!

(Songs like this help!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4UmIEZLdd0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Want to join me in praying for my cousins today?

On Broken Cisterns (and sisters)...

"For My people have committed two evils: They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, And hewn themselves cisterns—broken cisterns that can hold no water."

~Jeremiah 2:13 (NKJV)

There are days when I feel like I can hold nothing. There are days when I feel empty and pointless. There are days when I forsake the Fountain, and find a broken cistern to pour my heart into. I pour my troubles into people, hoping they can uphold me and store my problems for me. I go to things and places for water, instead of the Word. I try to touch lives, and in so doing I crack them!

And this leaves ME broken. A broken sister searching for water from a broken world.

Why? Why is Yahweh not enough for me?

"'Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, That there may be food in My house, And try Me now in this,' Says the Lord of hosts, 'If I will not open for you the windows of heaven And pour out for you such blessing That there will not be room enough to receive it.'"

~Malachi 3:10

Ah, so that's it. God tells me to pour in and trust. Give up of myself and trust. Let go and trust. Cease striving and KNOW. (Psalm 46:10) Oh, and HE will fill and bless and restore!

Today, I will give up on the fight to find in myself or my world something good enough to drink of. I will trust Him Who made me. I will strive to lay hold of Him and His promises.

This is a mission to end world thirst.

Want to join me?

On Pride and Touching Souls...

Back and forth we throw the ball, and with it, our words.

The harder the throws, the harder the words. And the words were our defense against each other, against the fall we thought would come if we gave in.

I left mad, and he followed loving. He took the time to heal the wounds and ask me questions and touch my soul so I could smile again. And I cried! How could I fear to trust him and let my brother see the cracks and broken parts of me?

Pride.

And this pride that threw words between best friends and profaned that evening is the enemy. NOT the brother.

We fight, side-by-side, against everything that would make us fall.

"With shield of faith, and belt of truth,
We'll stand against the Devil's lies.
An army bold, whose battle cry is love,
Reaching out to those in darkness."

~ O Church Arise, by Keith Getty and Stuart Townsend

Thanksgiving List

Starting here, deep in the list:

185. Chemistry pushes me
186. Things to fill my mind
187. Joplin, Missouri
188. Mike and Dawn Aalbers
189. Mike being OK
190. God using terrible things
191. Friends who listen to me talk about just how scary it was
192. Realizing secret fears to confess and conquer
193. Friends who really understand
194. Healing trips home with my family
195. Being able to eat
196. Pictures making me feel sick, but KNOWING that everything's alright.
197. Waiting to SEE that they're really all better
198. His healing came faster than mine
199. Laughing in the hotel room with my big brother– just like old times
200. The conversations just before it went bad
201. Root beer not making me sick anymore
202. The lemonade the Aalbers brought
203. The smell of cement
204. He made the lemonade at 4 am
205. B's visit
206. USAF museum
207. King's Island
208. Our creek
209. The fish she caught
210. Pastor winking at me when I'm mad– laugh, don't yell.
211. Orange on S =)
212. The book S gave me, and the memories around it
213. Sharing funny times with a good friend
214. Dependable people
215. Not being 100% in control, and NOT NEEDING TO BE
216. Structure
217. Lack of it
218. P laughing at me
219. Lying on the kitchen floor laughing over cookbooks with the little brother
220. Hard conversations that bring healing

Be thankful for your complexion

For Monday Mornings...

"Christ, whose glory fills the skies,
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Triumph o'er the shades of night:
Day-spring from on high, be near:
Day-star, in my heart appear.

Dark and cheerless is the morn
Unaccompanied by thee,
Joyless is the day's return,
Till thy mercy's beams I see;
Till thy inward light impart,
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

Visit then this soul of mine,
Pierce the gloom of sin, and grief,
Fill me, Radiancy Divine,
Scatter all my unbelief,
More and more thyself display,
Shining to the perfect day."

~Morning Hymn, by Charles Wesley

On Painful Words and Falling Down Stairs...

So I fell.

Three steps, face first, skirt flying, down the steps at church. The bruises and blood were painful enough, but the words that followed, first from the concernedly annoyed family member and then from me, the angrily hurt one, were worse. Insult to injury.

Leave me alone. Let me pick up my own shreds.

But that's not what we're called to do! No matter how bloody and messy a human's life is, you and I are called to lift them up and sometimes slap them upside the head.

Let not words, or messes, or anger, or fear keep us from pulling up a fallen brother.

No one for himself.

On Busy Sunday Mornings...

There are people coming over after church, and food needs cooking. The dishes all need to be hand-dried, and the youngest needs to change his clothes for church.

I stand, up to my elbows in suds, and wonder what happened to Sunday– to the Sabbath. Why does it feel so much like a different arrangement of the normal business? What takes the Lord's Day, and turns it into a day for human struggling?

I sit with my family in the pew. We kneel with the rest of the church and confess our sinfulness. I think about how I failed my family, my friends, my Lord, this week. I decide to do better. But again, this day of rest becomes a day of my efforts to achieve...

The guests are gone. I am washing dishes again, and as I plunge every single punch glass beneath the water I feel like that– plunged. Up and down. School tomorrow, and the test this week that could just pull my grade up to an A. Violin lesson tomorrow, and the hope that I'll gain one of those rare approving phrases from my teacher. And Sunday becomes a day to worry about tomorrow.

But my Lord never worried.

And this day– Sunday, is for worship of Him. It should look, and be, different. As a wise friend told my worried self yesterday, I need to think on what is true, over and over again.

Until it changes my conscience!

The only way to know what is true is to read the Word.

And so I read, "Blessed is the man who does this, And the son of man who lays hold on it; Who keeps from defiling the Sabbath, And keeps his hand from doing any evil.” ~Isaiah 56:2

On Stress and Needing Control...

There were plans, and then there weren't.

I had hoped. I had hoped that everything would be easy and fun and go well and not disappoint anyone. I thought it was impossible anything could go wrong.

But, one day before, the plans flipped. I needed to change my plans, and I DO NOT LIKE CHANGING PLANS!! I don't like the feeling of not being able to control what's going on.


And then my dad stepped in to help. He offered tremendous assistance, and the plans that seemed insurmountable suddenly were okay again. And that was a phenomenal gift.

May I give that gift to someone, today.

A reminder that God calls people who are out of control of some crazy events, and uses them. And that nothing is ever outside of His control.

And you can lose enthusiasm, and you can lose your feeling of security.

But you never lose Him.

This is the beginning...

Hi,

Welcome to my blog: You Shall Speak. Why is it named that? Well, in Jeremiah 1, God tells Jeremiah that He called Jeremiah out as a prophet.

Before he was born.

Jeremiah tells him NO, he is a youth, and cannot speak.

God replies that Jeremiah will do what God tells him to, go where He tells him, and say what He tells him.

"You shall speak."

No, I do NOT claim to be a prophet, and do NOT believe that God still uses prophets, but I DO believe that it is my job to go where I am sent, and in every single word that I say to proclaim to revealed will of God (the Bible).

I love to write, and as I seek to find my voice through and in this blog, I pray that God will direct my words for His glory. He called me out as one of His own before I was born.

Let everything I say please him.

Here I am–send me.

And that is the ultimate prayer for growth. Send me. Send me–here. My home, my neighborhood. I am here.

What shall I say?

"Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, oh Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer."
~Psalm 19:14

Testing, testing,

Is this thing on?