A Change of Mind - A Daily Reality

These are my actual notes from this past Sunday. As I was taking them, I suddenly was inspired to make it a blog post, so I whipped out my smart phone and snapped the picture. In front of God and all my rowdy friends.

They are so used to me. No one blinked, no one thought it odd at all. I think they all know that anything and everything can and will become Blog Fodder for the Preacher's Wife.




The Finished Work of the Cross? Utter perfection.




My attitude and belief structure? In need of change. Every day.




Repentance simply means to change your mind. When you first came to Christ, you changed your mind in regards to either 1) Your need to be right, or 2) Your need to be wrong. In coming to Christ, you chose to think differently. Through the foolishness of preaching, you were made to realize that to think less of yourself was not enough...you realized you weren't to think of yourself at all. You were led to believe that salvation was all about Jesus and not what you did or could do, right or wrong.


You were led to believe that, right? Because that would be the effect of the preaching of the cross. True belief, and true repentance - a change of mindset.

As you received Him, in the same way, you walk with Him. Twenty, thirty, forty years later, if you are a spiritual person, if you are maturing, you will be changing your mind. Your actions will always follow suit.




Another term for all this? "The Renewing of the Mind".

An Impromptu Trip to the Mountains...and an Impromptu Shooting Competition - Pictures, not Animals

Tim gets credit for this one. ::sigh:: He saw this, and locked down on the brakes of his Ford truck. He jumped out the driver's side door with my camera, composed the shot (manual mode, all the way...shutter speed, apperture, zoom, and focus...he set it all!) and shot it. Darn him. The dappled sun was hitting the base of this tree like a spotlight.



...a Flycatcher...I got this shot, but nevermind. It pales in comparison to Tim's moss-on-the-base-of-the-tree shot. I feel a competition coming on. And I will win. He has no right to get better shots with my Nikon and new 55-200 mm lens than I get with my Nikon and 55-200 mm lens.



...fungus...again, spotlighted by dappled sunlight. Again, Tim. Incredible shot. This is exactly how it appeared - glowing. This shot is "SOOC"...that means "straight out of camera", no retouching, no photoshopping. In fact, not a single photo has been Photoshopped.



My mountains...




My beloved Smokies...can you see why they are called the "Smokey" mountains?



Side-lit splendor...golden autumn sun...no other time of year has this quality of light.



I got it! I got the shot! When you slllllllow down the shutter speed, you get that lovely sheeting action, when you shoot moving water. Fast shutter speed = seeing water more like the naked eye sees it, sometimes even freezing individual droplets in the picture. Slow shutter speed = that flow-ey, sheeting action. Love!



(Slowing your shutter speed, plus shooting in overcast conditions is not for the faint of heart, however. This shot best not attempted without a tripod...not without tears and swearing. Just kidding about the swearing. And the tears. But I was frustrated. I didn't bring my tripod. I asked Tim to bend over, and I planted my elbows in his back and shot for several minutes. Not kidding. He is so good to me. That man patiently watched me shoot scenes around the Smokey Mountains for three hours, until past dark.




In this shot above, notice how the surrounding, stationary non-water parts of this photo are not tack-sharp. No tripod. Tim's back helped, but next time, I am bringing my tripod.)




So proud of this shot. No tripod. No Tim's back, either. But I managed it. I set the camera to shutter mode, set the speed for a slow shutter, and compensated with apperture. ISO was 800.


















Quotable Quote

"Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry."

~Mark Twain

What do you want your husband, children, close friends, and other family members to be able to say about you when you die?

Live that way. Get to it. Now.

You never know...you know?

Fall Decorating

I began the process of putting away most of my summer kitchen today. I plan to pack away the turquoise blue mugs, all the blue glass, and the particularly summer-ish turquoise blue tea towels. Then, I got out my packed-away spice-orange things.

Here is a sneak peek:



The weather here has been a bit fall-ish this week. This makes me feel poignant. I still love September, but I dislike seeing summer go away. So, to cheer myself, I've begun the switch-out to autumn...getting out the harvest wheat sheaves, the pottery and glass in varying shades of ivory and spice pumpkin.

Last year, the palette was white, orange, and brown...with shades of each between. This year, I am sticking with the same palette, but adding a small touch of turquoise, too. I've left out a few of my turquoise summer things, only now instead of there being a strong note of turquoise, it is just the barest of accent color.

I'll post more photos when I'm done. I hope your September is Blessed and Highly Favored...

...in Christ, there is no such thing as not Blessed and Highly Favored.

How God loves us!

Obvious and Simple



"Obviously, the law applies to those to whom it was given, for its purpose is to keep people from having excuses, and to show that the entire world is guilty before God. For no one can ever be made right with God by doing what the law commands. The law simply shows us how sinful we are." Romans 3: 19-20, NLT



Simply. "The law simply shows us". We human beings love to complicate the Gospel in an effort to justify our own existence. We want to make our good works the thing that the Gospel is all about, when the Gospel is way more scandalous than that. The Gospel is about blood sacrifice that speaks of a shouted grace, freely given, and vigorously appropriated by those who can see simple things clearly.



Our good works are the cosmetics...the adornment...the accessorizing, if you will, of the One Work that Matters...the finished work of Christ. Look up your Greek in Titus 2, where it says that we are to adorn the Gospel with our good behavior.


Kosmeo. Yeah...we get our English word "cosmetics" from that Greek word. I need nothing else, in the way of proof text, but there is a lot more than that...however, it is September, it is Labor Day, and I am feeling mellow.


So if you wanna keep believin' that your works are anything more than (beautiful, significant, because all that is truly beautiful is significant) adornments to beautify the message of Scandalous Grace...go right ahead. One of us is wrong, and it isn't me.


Obviously. How about that word? "Obviously, the law applies to those to whom it was given..." (um, and that would be Old Covenant Hebrew People...)


Unfortunately, that darn veil obscures the obvious for many believers. What should be obvious....ain't. It is satan's Grand Scheme. To obscure the obvious. He's very, very good at it. Every day, I uncover some small (or large) truth he has managed to minimize, distort, or obscure in my understanding. And I get to happily repent and change my mind.


"After all, repentance is a gift...an opportunity...an invitation to The Good Life." And, by the way, that is a quote from The Preacher's message in church yesterday. It was - no bull - the best message on repentance I have ever, ever heard. Foundational. In the context of the Gospel. You do not want to miss it. And "obviously", repentance is part of the Gospel, and has always been preached at Harvest Church.


(I know, right? We are so "imbalanced"...)


But it's September. It's Labor Day, and I am feeling really mellow, so I'll save the fullness of all the past weeks and months of Romans study for another post.


Summer's last gasp. I am enjoying it. I am loving these days of simple dinners and detailed desserts, and the four or so pounds I've gained be hanged, I truly do not care...


...of waiting for the green beans I planted late to come in...of grandsons and first football games of the season. Of breakfasts at Burger King with the goal if discipleship and the attainment of so much more. Days of ridin' with my baby in his Ford pickup, listening to a Kenny Chesney tune. Days of takin' the back roads. The long way home. Puttin' a little gravel in our travel.


All my ducklings are in the nest, for today. It is Labor Day, friends. Let us rock it together, shall we? Some things really are so simple and obvious.


Simply Rock This Day. With Obvious Grace.

Octavius Winslow



For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” Ephesians 6:12

"Let us inquire what is that which Satan desires to assault? It is the work of God in the soul. Against his own kingdom not a weapon is raised. It is his aim and his policy to keep all there undisturbed and peaceful. But against the work of the Holy Spirit in the renewed mind, his artillery is brought to bear; not a part of this work escapes him.






Every grace comes in for its share of malignant attack; but especially the grace of faith. When, for example, a repentant and believing soul approaches Christ with lowliness and hesitancy, and with the tremulous hand of faith attempts to touch the border of His garment, or with a tearful eye looks up to His cross, then comes the assault upon faith in the form of a suggestive doubt of Christ’s power and willingness to save. “Is Jesus able to save me? Has He power to rescue my soul from hell? Can He blot out my transgressions, and redeem my life from destruction? Will He receive a sinner, so vile, so unworthy, so poor as I? Has He compassion, has He love, has He mercy sufficient to meet my case?”

In this way Satan assails the earliest and the feeblest exercises of faith in the soul. Does this page address itself to any such? It is Satan’s great effort to keep you from Jesus. By holding up to your view a false picture of His character, from which everything loving, winning, inviting, and attractive is excluded, by suggesting wrong views of His work, in which everything gloomy, contracted, and repulsive is foisted upon the mind; by assailing the atonement, questioning the compassion, and limiting the grace of Christ, he would persuade you that in that heart which bled on Calvary there is no room for you, and that upon that work which received the Father’s seal there is not breadth sufficient for you to stand.






All his endeavors are directed, and all his assaults are shaped, with a view to keep your soul back from Christ. It is thus he seeks to vent his wrath upon the Savior, and his malignity upon you.






Nor does he less assail the more matured faith of the believer. Not infrequently the sharpest attacks and the fiercest onsets are made, and made successfully, upon the strongest believers. Seizing upon powerful corruptions, taking advantage of dark providences, and sometimes of bright ones, and never allowing any position of influence, any usefulness, gift, or grace, that would give force, success, and brilliance to his exploit, to escape his notice, he is perpetually on the alert to sift and winnow God’s precious wheat.

His implacable hatred of God, the deep revenge he cherishes against Jesus, his malignant opposition to the Holy Spirit, fit him for any dark design and work implicating the holiness and happiness of the believer. Therefore we find that the histories of the most eminent saints of God, as written by the faithful pen of the Holy Spirit, are histories of the severest temptations of faith, in the most of which there was a temporary triumph of the enemy; the giant oak bending before the storm. And even in instances where there was no defeat of faith, there yet was the sharp trial of faith.

The case of Joseph, and that of his illustrious antitype, the Lord Jesus, present examples of this. Fearful was the assault upon the faith of both, sharp the conflict through which both passed, yet both left the battlefield victorious. But still faith was not the less really or severely sifted."






~Octavius Winslow.org

Harvesting the Seeds of the Gospel




Our entire church is beginning to experience a great harvest, on the seeds of the Gospel that have been faithfully sown from the pulpit for over two years running now.



Does that sound like I am giving the credit to my Preacher? If you think so, you still don't get how grace works...nor the apostolic gift. That isn't what I am doing at all.



Paul said, in a teaching about the apostolic gifting, that some plant, and some water. There is a "planting" apostolic man...and there is a "watering" apostolic man.


God alone gives the increase.



However, this is where you get into the concept of the believer's cooperation with grace. Had The Preacher not planted the Gospel seed courageously, in the face of much (and very personal) opposition, there would be no increase today. And had he not faithfully watered, lo' these two years straight, there would be no increase.


Someone else would have had to be brought in to re-plant, plow and re-plant, plow and re-plant...you get the idea. Without the watering, the planting has to be done over and over and over, because seeds die without water.


They just do.


So now...ask me again why my Preacher has stuck with the grace-Gospel like a dog on a bone. Or like a water hose on grace-seed. And heck yes, I am proud of him.


And without the saints eagerly receiving, being good Bereans, and tending the gospel-seed sown and watered in their hearts, there would be no increase.



But God alone gives the increase. Grace, grace.


And if one word could describe what is happening in Harvest Families, it is I-N-C-R-E-A-S-E.


Physically. (better health for many, and out-and-out supernatural healing for some!)


Financially. (Oh. Mah. Weeeeerd. Some serious increase going on. With more on the way.)

Um....."gynecologically". Need I say more? Harvest Church is the proud haven to seven new babies. Count 'em.


Spiritually. Harvest has increased and advanced spiritually by light-years. This means more to me than all the others put together. Because when people are increased, fat and flourishing in spirit, the rest comes in time, and when it comes, it usually stays. Because the roots run so deep into the love of God, you see. The blessing that comes with revelation comes to stay.


To stay.


Do you hear me Baileys? Kears? Howes? Buycks? McConnells? Cooks? Ewings? Jernecjics? Cantrells? Fanchers? Damrons?...and all the many others who have experienced great increase and miraculous blessing recently, some even just this week?


Your God establishes you. He makes your steps sure. He keeps you from falling. Which means you move forward, not backward. Forward, not backward. (Remember that word?)


Your blessings aren't going anywhere. Because you didn't earn them. Be glad you didn't earn them. What you earn, you have to maintain. Your blessings? They came by the grace of God, and remain by the same Power.


But you already know that.


Which brings me back to this post's very first sentence.

















Preserving the Harvest - Drying Tomatoes

Put some parchment paper on the bottom of a rimmed cookie sheet. Slice your tomatoes, about a half inch slices. Spread them in one layer on the baking sheet. Sprinkle with coarse salt, some fresh ground pepper, and add some basil from the garden. (Basil not necessary, but it sure looks pretty and tastes amazing...)


Set your oven to a low temp...I did these tomatoes at 200 degrees.


200 degrees for "up to" twelve hours. It is the "up to" that will get you, if you aren't careful. This particular day, the humidity was very, very low for my area for this time of year. So this batch of tomatoes only took about three hours! But it can take up to twelve.


All the moisture will dry out, and the tomatoes will shrink and darken. By the time they are done, they will be akin to tomato "chips"...almost crispy. Their flavor is intense, but delicious. You want them to be quite dry, but not burnt. They should peel off the parchment paper pretty easily.


Store these dried tomatoes in a freezer bag, and put them in your freezer. They are great for pizza, for homemade herb breads like foccacia, and soups. They retain their intense flavor and all their vitamins for about six months.


And now, for your viewing delight, I toss in yet another totally unrelated, cute grandson picture:

Be. Still. My. Heart.

Words...Worn

Most of you know - I am all about words. I decorate my home and I garnish my inner world with the best of them.

And now...I decorate myself and others with words!










This is my demo - my very first bracelet. Hannah has already claimed it as her own, and she says she'd buy more. I trust her fashion sixth sense. If Hannah loves it, others will too.





I will be designing different widths of bracelets, different words, different colorways, some with embellishment, some not.





This very first demo is a hand sewn bracelet, with antiqued metal closures on the other side (OOPS! I'll get a picture of the pretty clasp, when I put one like this up in my shop. When I finally get my shop up and running, that is.) The "Grace" bracelet is hand embroidered (by me) on burlap (burlap won't fray, because of the special sewing treatment I gave it) , and the embroidered burlap is attached securely to the fabric bracelet. The fabric for this bracelet is in a mustard yellow/teal blue colorway.




More ideas and designs are on the way....even a few collections are in the works - a "Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter" collection of four, a Christmas holiday collection, a Good Word collection(based on a Scripture), a French collection, a Romantic collection, perfect for Valentines, and a colorway collection.


I am having such fun designing and creating these. I'll let you know when I have hand- sewn enough of these bracelets (and other things!) to put up a little online shop. I already own the domain I've chosen - I just wish very much that I had the computer skills to design a nice, marketable website...if anyone knows of a web designer who charges reasonable prices, do let me know!




My Grandbay-bay is Eight Months Old

...above, you see his seven month picture...and below, his picture from today:


He's been eight months old for some days, now, but his momma has been busy. Today was his eight month picture day, and we could. not. keep. him. still.

Those two up there? They are both my cuties. I love them beyond words.

I am sloppy blessed...or, in King James English, "my cup runneth over."

My Morning at the Farmer's Market

It was a beautiful morning today, so I decided to go to our city's downtown area and visit the farmer's market. At the last minute, Hannah and grandson decided to load up with me and come along.

After about an hour of fresh air and sunshine, Little Britches was done.



Solid gone.




So. Many. People. They stopped on a dime, right in their tracks, to admire his napping cuteness.

Can you even stand it?

Me neither.

Play Hurt



As I sit down in front of this little netbook tonight, I'm thinking about the phrase, "Play Hurt".

My son Isaac is near-legendary for playing his basketball through an injury. He twisted his ankle in a game last year, and played the whole game. He contracted mono last summer, lost about 15 pounds, and couldn't get his strength back. He kept coming down with flu after flu last winter, and still played his heart out, every game. He played a couple of games with a high fever.

Then, he sprained an ankle in a national tournament this past March...and...you guessed it. He played hurt. And won a game for his team. He recently sprained his other ankle (badly) and has gone back to work (roofing!) before it has had a chance to completely heal. He will be okay - it is good for him to, within reason, learn that life is about "Playing Hurt".

It is particularly true of church life...of life in Christ. Every great man or woman of God has to "play hurt". Church life, as my Preacher said this past Sunday, is not all warm fuzzies. People hurt you. Oh Lawdy-Lawd, do they ever hurt you.

David said, "Let the righteous smite me...it won't kill me." (My paraphrase).

People who whine about being hurt by the church have come to the wrong blog for sympathy. Join the club, my friend.

And play hurt.

You do not have to wait until you are all 'specially healed up and whole to serve God and love His people. You don't have to wait till you feel all better to obey God in the Next Thing, and tend your relationships. You don't have to wait for a feeling to go fix your relationships. You just drag that donkey-butt back to the church you last left, and you forgive and you forge ahead.

This life is war, friend. Spiritual war. The war is out there. I do not care how hurt you have been by your church experience, I am here to tell you, the worst day in His house is better than a thousand good days anywhere else. The devil is out to kill, steal, and destroy...the body of Christ is simply human and fallible.

Please, please lose the notion that the saints are out to get you. There are some mean people, some sorry saints, in every church...but by and large, you are not their first target, you won't be their last, and they don't fall asleep dreaming of ways they can harm you, because you are simply not that important to them, and that is part of the problem. If you were more important to them, they'd be hurting you differently, but they'd still hurt you from time to time.

Let them smite me. When it is all said and done, the proof is exactly this: they will be the ones to leave, and I will still be right here, shot through but still loving The Bride. Me? I play hurt, baby.

I can say this, just now, because I'm in my happy place. No one at all has hurt me lately. No one has left in a wrong way, in fact some have been added...and added back. Church life is good for me, these days.

To get to the good days...the precious stuff...you have to play through the pain.

Play Hurt. Your team is counting on you.


Dedicated to Matt and Kelly Bailey



"Five good children are an immense luxury, and to deny one's self other luxuries in order to raise them is not self-denial at all, but merely an intelligent choice of investment."

--Edward Sandford Martin, The Luxury of Children (1904)

~~~~~~~

Yeah. The Baileys are expecting! That would bring the Harvest Baby Total up to....

seven. Not even kidding you. Seven. I dance. I spin. I clap like a child. Children are a reward, and so Harvest and her families must be overflowing with divine favor. This grace-message is proving itself to be extremely pleasing to the Father.

I Want




I want...what do I want? It is important to know.


I want to dwell in possibility.


I want to inspire you. ("others" is too generic and remote for me. I want to inspire you.)


I want to be inspired.


I want to be able to use a Tan Towel without streaking myself.


I want to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire every single day in His temple.


I want to live in the reality of Christ in me, Christ as me.


And Oh. Mah. Weeeerd. I want a zoom lens.


I want to worry less and take joy more.


I want to let go of what is out of my control anyway. And that would be almost everything in life besides what I wear tomorrow.


I want to cling tightly to grace.


I want a different car. Didn't used to. Now I do. Now that my Preacher has his new truck, I'm smitten with the ardent desire to drive something decent. And for me, that would still be something older, but older on purpose...older for a reason...older by choice. Hmmmm. Kind of like me. I'm so stinking proud that I am finally a grandmother, and it is my choice to embrace it.


The very idea of a "hot car", with any woman over 40 at the wheel, just makes me smirk. My son's young girlfriend drives a Mustang, for crying out loud, and she looks adorable behind the wheel, and that car is perfect for her. She gains major cool-points for driving it. Me? I'm forty plus. I'd lose major cool points, by trying too hard. I can't do the "I-drive-this-because-I-can-and-I-need-for-you-to-think-I'm-still-hot" car. I'd rather eat dirt and die. But pay no attention to me. I don't know anything.


I heart the older Volvo station wagons!


Hear me out. Someday I'll find me one, all boxy-looking and in perfect shape, white or black, and she shall become mine. It's an "intellectual-but-cool-and-good-looking-in-an-elegant-40-something-way"chick thing. I love the idea that I drive the car I inherited from my grandmother. That's the vibe I'm going for. I'm weird like that. I do all my own psychoanalyzation, because to be analyzed by others gets tedious and boring. And the results are nearly always inaccurate.




It goes all the way back to the TV show "Judging Amy". Plus, I would still need the sort of vehicle that I can toss all my antique store finds in. Something besides a green mini van. Amen.



I want to be more like Jesus. And I know...after that rant about middle aged women and their image cars, you don't believe me. But I do. I really do.


I want to be a Barnabus Friend, a Paul Mentor of young Timothys, and to be Jesus' John the Beloved. To lay my head upon His breast.


I want dark chocolate.


I want to see even more souls saved.


I want to be out of debt, and for the Vols to win the SEC championship - both things this year, by some miracle, pleaseGod.


I want more of God's glory on full display in my life, and I want to laugh with a best girlfriend until my eyes pop out of my skull and my very life passes before my eyes, which will make me laugh even harder.


I want to grow old with my peeps - all my family, grandchildren present and grandchildren to be. All of Harvest Church present, all of Harvest Church to be. My vision encompasses the years and the generations like that.


I want crab legs. Right now.


I want Sarah Palin to be Chris Christie's Vice President.


I want either Peyton Manning or Tim Tebow to play for a Superbowl ring this year.


I want to shut up now, because you want me to shut up now.









Jeanne Oliver Designs




I am a huge fan of all things hand made. I have a strong desire, in this season of my life, to support home based designers and writers and artists.



So. I must tell you. I am so in love with Jeanne Oliver and her clothing and bag designs. I never thought I'd see my way clear to buy one of her tops (too short for me to wear as a dress)...until she ran a very brief (I think it was a one or two day only) deep discount awhile back.



Really big discount. Big enough for me to bite the bullet and order.


(this photo from Jeanne Oliver Designs)


I so love this little top. It is my favorite thing in my wardrobe right now, and I predict it will remain my favorite throughout the fall season. I've already worn it a couple of times, and it is one of those pieces that strangers will ask you where you bought it. (That has happened to me once, so far - but, as I said, I've only worn this top a couple of times).



Jeanne also does exquisite packaging. My dress/top arrived wrapped in a sheath of grey tissue paper, tied with a strip of torn-fabric string. The top comes with a pin...a cluster of grey linen flowers. But Jeanne included an extra ivory colored fabric flower, tucked in a tiny burlap draw string bag. All hand-made.







She also tucked in some of her photography. I was hugely blessed by the message...for me, in this season of my life, a prophetic whisper from heaven ~








This message both speaks to my life in recent years - letting go of legalism and any person, place, or thing that weighed my spirit down...and it speaks to my "now" - letting go of all that is out of my jurisdiction.






Oh, the letting go is the hardest thing. It is a free-fall into the grace-through-faith by which I'm saved.







Anyhoo. There was also a torn page from an antique French dictionary, all kinds of beautiful ephemera (which I heart, so so much) and a note from Jeanne herself...






Look at the loveliness ~



Her fall designs come out next week...and if she runs another "special", I doubt any force will be powerful enough to keep me from just one more Jeanne Oliver Design.

Preserving Basil - An Easy Tutorial

In the morning hours, before the heat of the day, cut some of your basil and wash it lightly. Let it dry briefly. You'll need coarse salt (Kosher salt is coarse salt) and an airtight container. The prettier the container, the better. Why have ugly if you can have pretty? Why have unsightly, when you can have cute?


I have, many times, said to my youngest son, "If you were ugly, I'd have spanked you more often, and you might be better behaved today."



He is the youngest, and you parents know how tired you are by then. And he is achingly cute (my oldest boy is terribly handsome, and my daughters are stinking gorgeous, and why all my adverbs are pejorative I will never know) and he does behave shockingly from time to time.


And I'm shallow like that. I err to all that visually appeals. Back to basil...

start with a layer of coarse salt, and lay your basil leaves on it. Try not to let them touch, but you don't have to be obsessive about that. It is okay if they touch a little bit, sometimes. You just can't stack 'em, one on top of the other.

Cover your layer of basil leaves with a layer of coarse salt.


Continue until you have something like this. Your basil will keep this way, at near-full-aromatic-state, for about six months!




Keep it in a cool, dark place....like a pantry. Don't keep it on your windowsill. Do as I say, don't do as I do. I am erring to the visually appealing, here, and also obnoxiously showing off my rosemary infused olive oil, in the used-to-be lemonade bottle.





Speaking of cute, of achingly adorable, of over-the-top sweetie-pie-ness, it is time to slip in yet another braggadocious Grandson Photo:



Poppy and I are preparing Little Britches for his first football season. He'll be a Volunteer, through and through, for yeay verily, he hath a goodly heritage.


Yeay, verily. Verily, yeay.


The Exquisite Writing of Hal Borland



"Summer is misted dawns and searing afternoons, hot days, warm nights, thunderstorms cracking their writhing whips. Summer is shirt sleeves, sunburn, bathing suits, tall cold drinks, dazzling beaches and shimmering lakes. Summer is the green countryside, the cool fragrance of mountain pines.






Summer is the house wren bubbling over with morning song. It is the long afternoon aquiver with the sibilance of the cicada. It is slow dusk freckled with fireflies - and prickly with mosquitoes. Summer is a meadowful of daisies, a field of corn reaching for the sun, a straw hat, a hoe and a garden.






Summer is the fresh garden pea, new lettuce crisp in the salad bowl, snap beans, sun-ripe raspberries on the bush and chilled strawberries in a bowl of cream. Summer is the weed, the gnawing insect, the foraging woodchuck, the nibbling rabbit. Summer is sweat.






Summer is April and May grown into June and July, the green world working almost eighteen hours a day. It is a lazy river and a languishing brook. It is a vacation dreamed of, realized, too soon over and done, too soon a memory.






Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January."


~Excerpt from Sundial of the Seasons, by Hal Borland - I absolutely recommend it.

Generational Work



Today, I am so aware of the Gospel being a Generational Work. On many levels, I see this as clearly as the August sky.

"One generation shall praise His works to another, and declare His mighty deeds..."

Firstly, I see the need for young men in the church - men in their early to mid twenties - to mentor teenage men. Mine is not the only church, by far, experiencing the dearth of young men with the leadership skills, talents, compassion, and charisma necessary to make loving Jesus seem desireable to their younger counterparts.

Men in their twenties aren't being taught that the Gospel is a generational work. They don't feel responsible. They aren't being taught how to stick and stay and not run away. They aren't being challenged to see their church as an extension of their family, and to accept the mantle of responsibility to mentor the young guys in their home church. ("Home church? What's that?")

This is partly because the parents, those middle aged men and women, aren't taking responsibility either. They, too, float from church to church, easily offended, not sinking roots into the relational soil, weathering the seasons, reaping the harvest. ("Harvest" means so much more than seeing souls saved. Harvest is fruit matured to the picking-point, in any and every good and happy area of life!)

I remember a conversation the Preacher and I had, a couple years back, with an old salt of a saint who'd pastored churches, and does pastor even now. We were talking of those we've seen come and go in our churches, and how sad it was, this loss of potential and momentum and fruit, when roots are ripped up and transplanted, over and over, to no real avail. We were lamenting the limitation that comes when people of any age do not respect authority, nor do they value continuity of years in relationships.

He said, "I will tell you this: 100% of the drifters and the relationally challenged have issues with their own parents. You cannot devalue or disrespect that most basic relationship and expect to somehow understand how healthy relationships in the family of God function."





Ah, wisdom is justified by her children.






It cuts both ways, I have recently discovered. Parents have to model respect by respecting their grown children, honoring their unique destiny, and asking forgiveness when necessary. No parent, by virtue of their position, has the right to manipulate the lives of grown children, or tear down the choices, spouse, or profession of their son or daughter. If you try that, you will live with the consequences, and they are indeed bitter. Far better to humble yourself, even as The Parent, and sincerely make things right...on your child's terms, not yours.






Otherwise, they will forgive you. But they will reserve the right to forgive you from a distance. Is that really what you want?



Wisdom is proven in the generations. This is why I am so thrilled to see many three-generation-strong families in Harvest Church, my own being one of them. (We are actually four generations strong!) Serving God with my parents and my children, while holding my grandson is what the Gospel is about. I can say that, because I know what it has taken to get to this place....a whole lot of obedience and applying my theology to my biography.


And a whole, whole lot of forgivin'.




And we are SO not a trophy family. We've had to apply the Gospel in ways that have humbled us all into the dirt, laid bare and vulnerable before one another. If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know. And it ain't over yet. This Gospel that the Preacher and I have joyfully and painfully lived out in the secret places of our home relationships, is a Generational Work.






You can't manufacture it. It isn't assembly-line. It is artisanal work, done by heart and hand. This sort of work isn't nurtured well in an impersonal, business model church environment, with all due respect.






Yes, one generation shall praise His works to another! I need to wrap this up. I hear my grandson waking up...I can hear him "declaring the Lord's mighty deeds"...well. He's declaring something...loudly.




"The Father forgave the prodigal before he confessed (Luke 15:20) and God provided my forgiveness before I asked, and isn’t this the Kingdom I’m orienting to, the compassion before the confession?

I am a daughter failed and I am a parent failing and I know it in ways now I never knew: if I rip apart the bridge of forgiveness for my own parents with my own hands, I destroy the only way my own children can come to me."






~from the beautiful blog "A Holy Experience" by Ann Voskamp

God Loves His Girls

Today, I enjoyed an early morning drive with The Preacher in his new truck.

Today, I was given a purse that cost half what he paid for his truck.

A. Purse.

Today, I enjoyed time with girlfriends, eating cupcakes and salad with strawberries.

Today, I spent some time with a friend who is a missionary to Cambodia.

Today, I'm having a hard time resolving what seems to be two different aspects of the same, good God. I serve a God who often asks me to do hard things - to live sacrificially. I serve a God who requires me to not just understand the gospel, not just espouse the gospel, not just preach the gospel, but also to "live of the gospel", meaning to apply it to my ordinary, real-world relationships. This is often a hard thing to do. Cheap, this life isn't. It has cost me in profound ways. The law would be a far easier thing to live by - and no, law and Good News are not synonymous, though the same God is Author of them both.

I serve a God who asks my friends to do hard things, like live in Cambodia. He also requires them to apply the gospel to their ordinary, real-world relationships, and on top of that, they worry about their child's exposure to rat dander...and spiders as big as your hand can and do bite them. I haven't come near to that, in my service to God. My friends are the real deal, and I am the faux deal. (And it is okay for me to believe that. I'm not having a crisis, I simply esteem my friends - in a very honest way - as being better than myself.)

And I serve a God who happens to know that I love me a pretty, well made purse. I mean, I reckon He knows, since there is nothing knowable that He doesn't know in absolute perfection of wisdom. So He puts it on someones heart to gift me with a handbag that cost more than half what The Preacher paid for his truck.

Oh, but wait. The Preacher was very nearly given his truck. His truck is worth easily four times what the price was (car lots would charge six or seven times what he paid)...which takes me back to resolving the side of God that often asks Tim and I to do hard things, with the side of Him that blesses His boys with trucks, and gives His girls Eric Javits purses. You see...herein lies the rub: sometimes The Preacher and I obey God to the exact detail, and sometimes we don't. And yet He turns and blesses us with unearned, undeserved extravagance that defies our logic.





This is my exact purse, down to the color. Google Eric Javits and Neiman Marcus. Warning: sit down and spit out your coffee before you check the price. And make sure your theology can handle the fact that God often asks His girls to do the Actually Hard Thing (versus the Imagined Hard Thing, or the Self Imposed Hard Thing)...and He loves His girls so much, He sometimes gives them extravagantly expensive, and lavishly pretty purses for no real reason.




These are not easy issues to resolve, trust me.




You have been forewarned.


What The Preacher is Up To

He was up at 5, and then by 7:30 this morning, this is what my camera saw:



He's detailing his new truck. He is putting the Barbie Jeep up for sale, as this deal is way, way too sweet for him to pass up. Our neighbor, because he loves Tim, is letting his truck go for less than a song.

More like half a song.

It's in great shape, one owner.

I have one happy preacher on my hands, because his new ride may not cost him a penny out-of-pocket.

He told me, months ago, "God is about to give me a truck. I need one. I've been asking Him for one."

I should listen to him more often.

Kitchen Riches From My Gardens

...kitchen windowsill...and the cherry tomatoes are not even in yet. When they are, I will be overrun. Hundreds, it seems, hang ripening.


...one of my gardens - this one has green peppers, tall beautiful basil, and (believe it or not) daylilies and gladioli, all jumbled together. And it looks amazing. I am totally into pottagers, with their mixture of vegetable, herb, flower and fencing, with pathways. I'm working my way into that. I really like this photo, with its tiny perspective.



This garden has tomatoes, pole beans, squash, cucumbers, cantaloupe and sunflowers!






Another part of the same garden spot. Please ignore the orange hammock, still hanging. It was a souvenir my daughter Sarah brought back from Cambodia a few years ago. It lost its place when our tree was taken out by the storms awhile back. It still hangs from its other anchor, with nothing to hook up to. I've been meaning to cut it down - it would take all of five minutes. Honestly, I pay no attention to it, and only notice it now, "screaming" at me in this picture.




Some of you just won't understand, but I've felt poignant today. Always, long about mid-August, I begin to notice a difference in the light. I know that sounds crazy - it is still "high summer". But I see it...the light is ever-so-subtle in its shifting and changing. It heralds a coming fall season.


And again, I am sad. I think of a line from an old Gladys Taber book, "Stay a little, summer, do not go..."


This anomaly started about two years ago. I just began, inexplicably, to love summer. I guess summer is the true "Season of Harvest"...it is when the harvest becomes real and exciting. You have to understand, I've always been an autumn girl, and always loathed summer. No more. Tho' the heat has been awful, we here have gotten enough rain.


I am sure if I lived in some of the drought stricken areas of Texas, Oklahoma, and other places, I would not feel the same way.


But I live in east Tennessee, and so...


"No one can believe God is not good when the August gardens are in their heyday." ~Gladys Taber, from the wonderful book "The Book of Stillmeadow"