Saturday, January 22, 2011

Embracing Accusation

You have to read it till the end . . . the last line is glorious.

The father of lies coming to steal
Kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough.
I hear him saying
"Cursed are the ones who can't abide".

He's right. Halleluiah, he's right.
The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed.
That I am cursed and gone astray.
I cannot gain salvation,
embracing accusation.

Could the father of lies
Be telling the truth
Of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death,
Then death is mine.

I hear him saying,
"Cursed are the ones who can't abide"
He's right. Halleluiah, he's right.
The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed.
That I am cursed and gone astray.
I cannot gain salvation.


Oh the devil is singing over me
An age-old song . . .
That I am cursed and gone astray.
Singing the first verse so conveniently,
He's forgotten the refrain.
Jesus saves!

--Shane and Shane

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The first time, the first time,

As we drove in the driveway of the red brick house on the corner, I looked with expectant wonder at the small word tacked onto the sign in the yard. SOLD, it read. And it was. To us.

As we gazed around and started to clean, we would look at each other often and say, "It's ours now. This is our house," as if by saying it again, we might wrap our mind around it. "This is my house." I said to the empty dining-room. Then, after going out, I squinted back through the screen door and imagined it clean and furnished with warm light and happy people. One day. One day soon. One day at a time.

It's not like we're new to this whole moving business. I have moved more than six times in my half-long life. And by the time spring comes and the melting and the warmth, we will have done it again. And while we clean, we dream of it. . . I see curtains fluttering in on a cool breeze and warm sun-patches checkering the floor. Old books lining newly-painted walls, familiar furniture and intoxicating aromas of home food floating from the kitchen. I imagine green creeping across the sprawling vine on the north-wall bricks, and new yellow roses in the front yard.

So far we have had our first tea in our new house, a very happy landmark. Hot black tea with milk, and peanut-butter bread, always an important event. We have also put up our first window stars, and lit candles. I have snuggled babies, and read them picture-books, fed baby-food to a red-headed boy and watched him play. My favorite people in the world are working around me, Bebo Norman is playing while we scrape wallpaper and tape baseboards. It's beginning to be home.

Out my windows you can see a white house and a brick house across the street. To the right the green awnings of small businesses, the fire-station, and further off, church towers and the pleasant blue of an old-fashioned industrial building. This town, heretofore known as 'Katie's town', is to become my town. My little 'Mitford'. That's a happy thought (especially to me, as an adamant reader of Jan Karon's).

Our own little town to learn and love, to frequent the libraries, meet the neighbors, grow accustomed to the sidewalks and parks. But especially in these first months here, we'll focus on the house; making it clean and cozy, creating a haven to return to. We aren't all moved in yet, we aren't actually living there yet. . . but soon.



. . . because we must have toys at Mimi's house

my delicious charge and hungry boy (I got to hold him alot)

It's one of those delightful old houses with banisters and glass doornobs
very happy lights

So now you know! Katie has pictures of the exterior here. I'll have more of the interior and progress later.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

A familiar view

all in snow
into the grove
long view
closer--over those trees and beyond

I count it lost

I just had to share this song today. 'Boasting' is beautiful musically and lyrically; gospel-driven, and radical in the way I want to be. I appreciate the ministry that Lecrae has of spreading the Truth through his music. That is what we all should be doing: witnessing and proclaiming wherever we find ourselves in life. Sometimes we forget that life is a serious fight, and we need words like these to help fight the fog.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

..::" ~Welcoming in 2011~ "::..

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

~Ecclesiasties 3:1-8, ESV