Voices and Love.

Valentine's day just happened. For some of you, it happened hard. I celebrated by taking down our Christmas Tree. For those of you who had a less exciting Singles' Awareness Day, let the Voice of Truth fill your empty valentine's heart.

In light of V-Day, today at youth fellowship, the leaders got up and shared about God's love. One of the sisters shared about how God's love is unfathomable. Like, even if we tried to understand it, we couldn't. His love is so far beyond what we can see, hear, or think of.  (Isaiah 64:4, 1 Corinthians 2:9, Ephesians 1)

Then one of the brothers got up repeated over and over again how much God loves us.
God loves us.
God loves us.
God loves us.
With the same intensity that The Father loves Jesus, Jesus loves us. (John 15:9)
He loves us.
He loves us.
He loves us.


I walked home alone in the cold, sweet rain, meditating on everything that I had just heard. As I passed a flock of goats, I couldn't help but to feel God's love for me- which is kind of a big deal because although I know it is true, I haven't been feeling His love much lately. I had just spent less than an hour listening to people telling me how much God loves me and in that time it had already started to sink in.

God sure knows how to charm me! 

Earlier this week, I read this article online. It is a letter that a father wrote to his young daughter telling her how the world wants you to feel terrible about yourself. The whole point of marketing companies is to make you feel bad about yourself so that you will spend your money on their products trying to make yourself complete and happy.

A very good and wise father wrote his daughter a letter and in it he said, 

But words do have power and maybe, just maybe, the words of a father can begin to compete with the words of the world. Maybe a father’s words can deliver his daughter through this gauntlet of institutionalized shame and into a deep, unshakeable sense of her own worthiness and beauty.

Words do have power. As soon as I read this, I was like, "Oh snap. I have to stop using social media and reading anything other than the Bible and I should probably walk around with earplugs and look at the ground when I walk so that I don't see any advertisements..." 

Sometimes I go to extremes. 

But quite frankly, even if you put me in a cave with just a flashlight and a Bible, I would still hear the voices of the world and the Evil One because I have already been exposed. Even avoiding "the world" will not stop me from being exposed to lies (satan loves to twist the truth).   

Sometimes your friend gets all of the compliments and all you hear is, "You are not pretty enough."

Sometimes your co-worker gets the promotion and you hear, "You are not capable enough."

Sometimes your parents mean well, but all you hear is, "You are not quite good enough."

Sometimes your preacher talks about loving God more and all you hear is, "You will never be enough."

You are enough. 

You are pretty enough.

You are capable enough.

You are good enough.

You. Are. Enough. 

Not because of anything that you did, but because of everything that Christ did. Which means that your "enough-ness" will never change because it was never dependent upon you in the first place. Your "enough-ness" is dependent upon a Holy God who looked down from heaven and decided that he liked you enough to kill his Son so that He could be with you forever. 

If that's not enough, nothing will ever be enough. 

So the point of all of this?

Let the voice of the Father ring louder in your heart than those other voices. 

Read his thoughts often. Say them out loud. Thank Him for the truth. Tell others about the truth. Saturate yourself in the words of the Father so that there is no room in your heart for the lies that fight to come in. 

God loves you. 

God loves you. 

God loves you. 

Thankful

I just spent way too long looking at old pictures. But it made me think...

Lately I have really been missing the people back in America. My church family, my old co-workers, and especially my college roommates have been on my heart and in my mind. As I think back on all of those nights where we stayed up late working thorough our differences, confessing sin, and encouraging each other to just... keep.... going..., I seem to forget about how hard it was and I tend to dwell on the sweetness of our time together. Oh! What I would do for just one night for all of us to be together again.

So I guess this post is just a realization for myself. A realization that I have something good here. These two sisters of mine are really cool. They are beautiful, talented, smart, loving, and generous. They are passionate, extremely hard working, and a little bit stubborn. We don't always see eye to eye, but at the end of the day, that's ok. I'm finally learning that disagreement does not mean that we dislike each other. Disagreement means that we should talk about it and come to an agreement- and in the end we will have learned and grown from the experience.

This post does not come as the result of a giant disagreement or huge debate. It is the result of lots of little conversations, loads of grace extended, and daily breath prayers, "Jesus, we don't know what to do right now. Please help us."

I am very thankful for these ladies and so privileged to call them friends. Bless the Lord, Oh my Soul!

Who are you thankful for today? Don't forget to look past the hardness and enjoy being with those around you. These moments won't last forever. 

A time to reflect.

I just need a minute, guys.

Get it? A time to reflect? Hahaha!

I need a minute to reflect on this year.

God is beginning to show me how to love. He is teaching me that safety is imaginary. He is making me see that when the healing comes from within, it is less painful to let Him rip my insecurities off fast, like a band-aid, rather than dealing with the gradual gnawing pain of trying to slowly pry them out of myself.

He still has not told me how to deal with poverty. He has not given me any answers that bring peace every time for every person. He has not given me the ability (or the responsibility) to fix any person.


He has pushed me past my limits and erased my boundary lines.

He has shown me dreams and given me strength.

And through it all, He has been with me. Always with me. 

hammer.

It happens so fast.

I never get a warning. 

There is never a count down. 

I don't even get a chance to dip my toes in to feel how cold it is going to be- it's just a jolting push from behind and suddenly I am falling into discontent. Before I know it the melancholy is surrounding me and all I want is to catch my breath. 

It hasn't happened in a while. 

I've been trying to stay away from the edges (comparing myself to others, isolating myself, skipping the Sabbath), you know, so that I am less likely to fall. 

But this week has been kinda... cold and breathless. 

---------

My roommate recently challenged me to use my camera as a hammer "to drive out the nails of discontent." She is reading 1,000 Gifts, and the author, Ann Voskamp, is teaching her how to be thankful for the little things- how to see them all as gifts and to use those gifts to drive away discontent. 

I decided to take her up on the challenge.

Here are my first four gifts. 

Yugus. 

This boy. It seems fitting to start with him because he gets really, really excited about all of the little details of life. He helps me notice how amazing this world really is.

Yesterday my bike tire got punctured so Yugus, Saron, and I walked my bike up to the bike shop on the main road so that we could get the tire tube patched. Each time a big truck passed us, Yugus threw his arms into the air and exclaimed, "WOW! OHMYGOSH! THAT TRUCK IS SOOOO BIG!" After he did that for the third time it finally hit me: giant trucks that move really fast are actually pretty amazing.

I am thankful to live in a culture where polka-dot pants, flowered tops, and sparkly bracelets are completely stylish. Especially when you wear them together. 

For when the sounds of the chickens are too early and the sounds of Nepali verbs are too many, I am thankful for green moss and brown instant coffee. Side by side.

I am thankful for Iesma and her mom. I am thankful that I can hang out with them and not feel like a foreigner. Even when I have white skin and carry a giant "hammer," they are starting to feel like friends. 

-----------

I am finding that thankfulness really does drive out the discontent. 

What are you thankful for today?

when the monsoon sweeps through

Monsoon season is coming to an end. The heavy mid-day showers have decided that it is best to visit in the evenings only. For that I am thankful. I have only been rained on once this week. The evening showers blow through leaving a few silky white clouds by morning. Instead of 24 hours of gloom, we are seeing blue skies! 

This morning I looked out the kitchen window just before the sun made the trek up and over the mountains. The silhouettes of Ganesh and Himalchuli beckoned me, "Come up higher! Get a better look!"  

It was already 5:45- which is well into the morning in my neighborhood. However, the world below my roof was unusually silent- as if every creature was being obedient to God and he was telling them, "be still. This is a holy moment." 

I stood on the roof, alone in the silence, but so very not alone. God was there, his Presence as real as the mountains that stood before me. 

The sun finished its climb and drove his warm rays onto the silent creatures below. As the silhouettes became real mountains I realized:  those mountains are always there. They have been there during this whole season. I just haven't seen them.

Then, like a child being reminded that her dad is not gone, he is just in the backyard mowing the lawn, I was reminded that my good Father is here with me. Just like the mountains, he is always here.

I am always here. I am always with you. 

The mountains behind my neighbor's clothesline.

Even when the monsoon is so thick

that I haven't seen Him in months.

Even when the rain is so heavy

that I think it will knock me over.

Even when the waters rise and the darkness looms. 

He is there. 

He is like the mountains, He will not be moved. 

The sun casting rays in our valley.

And monsoon season always comes to an end. 

The skies always clear and the mountains once again show their beautiful faces. 

If you are in the midst of monsoon right now, hold on! Better weather will come...

from seeds to sprouts

                   Dear B, 

Remember, you are still in a season of tilling. 

Keep chuckin' rocks, (even the heavy ones)

pulling weeds, (even the prickly ones)

and getting ready to plant (even though it is the dry season). 

Cultivate the land well for those precious seeds. 

Soon then monsoon season will rain life from above onto those precious babies, 

filling them with love and truth.

Sure enough, the Good Lord will give them growth

and the harvest will be surrounded with shouts of JOY!

*I don't know who should get credit for this photo, but it made my day!

5 things i learned in june

In honor of July, let's talk about June.

Awhile ago, someone posted a link to this article on facebook. It totally sling-shotted my brain into thinking about perfectionism ever since I read it, so I sometimes check back in with that blog to see if there are any other pearls of wisdom to glean.

Recently, the author put out a challenge for anyone else who has a blog to write about the things they learned in June. I just happen to have a blog, and I just happened to have a June, so I accepted the challenge.

Lesson 1: I need mornings. 

Kathmandu is crazy. hectic. dirty. loud. scary. different.


The mornings are peaceful. quiet. sane.

Mornings = Jesus + Me + not the rest of the Nepali world in my face.

I need mornings.

I knew that before, but this month I actually started to like hearing my alarm clock go off, so I am claiming this as knowledge from June.

Lesson 2: Rah-hey-cha.

In Nepali, there is a completely separate verb tense that is used to say that "I discovered that ___________ is________." It is called the "discovery tense" and it ends in "rah-hey-cha." If something normally is a certain way, but you just discovered that that thing that is that way is always that way, you use this tense. 

It goes like this, "In June, I discovered that the discovery tense is difficult to use.... rah-hey-cha."

Got it? 

If it sounds confusing, that's because it is.

Lesson 3: Sundesh is the King of photo-bombers.

 Of all of the photo-bombers in the history of all of the world, Sundesh is King.


For instance... In this photo I was trying to take a picture of the kids behind him and he just completely walked in front of the camera, oblivious to what he was doing.

This month, however, he has become more crafty. Remember this one? When he purposefully photo-bombed this precious moment?

Here's a new one of him jumping in front of the puppy-picture. I have deleted numberss of photos of Sundesh jumping in on someone else's memory. 

If photo-bombing were a country, he'd be the King, I tell you. 

Lesson 4: June has the best skies. 

See for yourself. 

Obviously you are still reading, which means that you did not faint, which means that this picture does not do the sky justice. Usually the sky looks two dimensional, but with June came all of these monsoon clouds. When they blow through, the sky has layers upon layers of depth. It's breathtaking.

Lesson 5: It's not about me. 

I had been mopey all month until yesterday.

I had not been heeding the good advice that I had been given to "take every thought captive to obedience to Christ." I had been dwelling in negative thinking and it was getting the best of me. I was even starting to feel sorry for myself.

But then last night God showed me that my life is really actually pretty stinkin' cool.... but even when it does not feel cool, I should be ok with that because this life is not about me. 

And that is so what I needed to hear.

The Holy God of all creation chose me to be His child. That should be enough. But then he let me move to Nepal, have amazing (really really amazing!) people back in the States who support me, kids outside of my house who love me and give me giant hugs every single day, food to eat, clothes to wear, freedom to not be working in a brothel and on and on and on...

So dude, nothing else matters. I have a God who loves me and even though some days are really hard, it is so worth the trouble because even though my life does not always feel legit, it totally is legit because this life is not about me. Anything good that happens- all of those little hugs and beautiful cloudy skies- are just a bonus.

This new "not about me" thinking has come just at the right time. And it just squeaked in right before the end of June.

*******

What about you? What did you learn in June?

secure.

I haven't cried in language class in a long time.

I thought I was starting to get the hang of things around here. I thought culture shock was pretty much over, that I was able to control my emotions, and that I was starting to be a big girl. I thought I finally had my act together.

Apparently not.

Dang it. I worked so hard to learn my new vocabulary words and when it was time for the oral test, I froze. I got really nervous because Cynthia just aced her quiz, and if I didn't do as well as she did, well, you know, that means I am not as good as she is.

It also means that I am lazy and stupid and that there must be something wrong with me because everyone else can remember these words and speak perfect Nepali but Bethany can't even conjugate a verb yet because she is just... you know... not quite up to par with the rest of humanity.

I was so nervous that I forgot all of my words. Even words that I have known for months had left me.

I froze up. I couldn't speak. There I was standing nose to nose with my biggest fear: everyone was about to find out that I am not perfect.

Gasp!

I bombed the test and tried to hide my quiet tears.

.........


It's a funny thing, because lately I have been thinking about Luke's story of a sinful woman who anointed Jesus' feet. Apparently a "sinful woman" crashed a party full of really good Jews. It would be like a prostitute crashing a party full of pastors. She snuck up behind Jesus, anointed him with perfume, and started wiping his feet with her tears.

The pastor who was hosting the party did not approve of this because he mumbled under his breath,

"Sheesh, Jesus must not really be a prophet. If he were, he would know how unworthy this woman is to touch him."

Jesus, understanding the truth of what was going on replied with another one of those famous parables, and then revealed the kicker.

"Her many sins have been forgiven- for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

Beautiful, right?

Don't you wish you could be free like that woman? Free to love much? Free from the expectation that you have to be perfect?

.......

So why did I try to hide my tears? Why do I feel like I have to be perfect? Why not use those tears to anoint Jesus' feet? I missed a beautiful opportunity to run to Jesus and to be comforted by him. All because I was afraid of not being perfect.

Jesus does not want perfect.

Jesus wants you.

Six pointless posts that I did not publish.

I have written exactly six blog entries in the past two days. I have posted none of them. They were all pointless. As the noble King Solomon once said. "Vanity, vanity! All is vanity!"

1. First, I wrote one about the cat that broke into our house and ate Cynthia's bread. But it was a dumb story. The cat ate the bread and came back a few days later and ate the butter. The end. 

2. Then I started writing about the guy that tried to follow me home on my bike, and how I had to call my friend to come to my rescue. But I didn't want to freak you guys out, so I didn't write about that. 

3. Last night I started to write one about how I saved a baby bird from a horrible death in a construction site. Oh my heavens, it was so cute! It's little baby foot was squished under a rock! But then I rescued it and put it in a box outside of my classroom. However, it hopped away into oblivion during the middle of my Nepali lesson, so I didn't really have a story anymore. 

4 - 5. I also wrote two new "cooking with Deepa" stories, but they weren't really blog worthy. So what? I broke another plate and a mug today and may or may not have set one more oven mitt on fire (barely!)... but who's counting? 

6. When I ran out of stories, I tried to write about my emotions. Big mistake. I have more emotions than a teenage girl who just got kicked off the cheerleading squad for wearing the wrong color socks. And those 45, 983 emotions? I can't identify any of them. That's why I haven't posted any my thoughts; because I sound like a cuckoo rambling about how hard it is to live in a third world country away from the community that I love, yet it is a delight to live among some of the most interesting, affectionate, hilarious people that I have ever met. But it all sounded like rambling, so I didn't post it.

I know that God is totally present with me in every moment- cat burglaries, baby birds, and broken tea mugs- working this whole thing out according to His great big plan (aka: not my great big plan), and that this is not all pointless. But sometimes, it just feels pointless. And that is the exact moment when I choose to ignore those 45, 983 emotions and remember the truth. I choose to ignore my feelings, keep begging God for mercy, and remember that he has brought me through pointless things before... and the truth is that they never end up being pointless.

confused.

I keep trying to write about Thailand, but nothing I write ends up making any sense. So I'll just be brief and give you the "Bethany doesn't feel like talking" version. 

• I didn't want to go to Thailand, so I was in a bad mood from the start. 

• I was just starting to have culture shock right before we left. 

• Then I went to Thailand, which is like, totally a developed country, which made me really confused about the world. And really really confused about my life. 

• Then I came back to Nepal. And this third-world country felt like home. And people could understand me. And I could understand them (somewhat). And it is awesome to be back. 

• But I am still very confused... most of the time. I think.  

Needless to say, I don't have much to say right now. 

I'm just thinking a lot. 

And praying. 

And so appreciative that I get to be here, confused, but in the arms of God. 

Until I find some more words, 

Bethany

Uncertainty.

I know less and less every day.

All I know is that God is doing a work in my heart. I feel like he is giving me a 1,000 piece puzzle to put together, but I only have about three of the pieces. I am savoring those three pieces, examining the colors, the shapes, the sizes, trying to gather any little specs of certainty out of what I have in front of me... but I just can't be certain about anything right now.

The pieces are just fragments of color and abstract shapes. I am trying desperately to determine what the bigger picture is, but it is impossible with such limited information. It's like I have three edge pieces, and they don't even fit together. I can guess at what the big picture is, but it is just a guess. 

 Nothing is certain.

There is so much more that is still to be revealed. So much more to learn and experience before I can come to any conclusions. 

Sometimes it is hard to see the bigger picture.

So I will press on. I will press on and examine each puzzle piece as it comes. I will seek to know it fully and deeply, so that when the full picture comes together, I will understand it that much more. 

Each new puzzle piece will be a reason to celebrate. It will be a gift to be received with thanksgiving. 

Oh Lord, I choose to trust your timing. 

Nuwakot

Last week Cynthia and I traveled with our friend to a district called Nuwakot.

We had heard rumors (and read newspaper articles) that this village is a highly trafficked area, so we went to see what it is like. Our goal was to assess the situation and see if it is worth going back to to pursue long term work.

It was sobering.

As we walked through town, I was kind-of in denial. I thought that maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me. Like, maybe since I have heard all of the rumors and stuff, I was just imagining it all. Maybe it wasn't really as bad as it looked.

But it was.

There were men for miles.

There were women too, it wasn't a ghost town or anything, but they were few and far between. However, most were either married or still in school.

It was a completely different experience than where we have been before, where the villages are made up of mostly women. In those villages, the men have left the country to find work so that they can send money back to their families.


We spent one day walking out to a village to teach English in the village's school. We learned a lot about who we are in the culture, what we have to offer, and what some people are already doing to help their own communities.

I told you this 'kid' was cute!

We still have a TON to learn- we don't even speak Nepali or understand the culture yet. So for now we are learning everything we can and trying to make good friends... I will keep you guys updated... but until then, I will lighten the mood by sharing a photo of a really, really, really cute kid. Enjoy!

Confessions of a packaholic.

If there is one thing in life that I am not, it is a hipster. 

I'm going to tell it like it is: my glasses are way out of style, my pants are about as baggy as they come, I have zero tattoos, and I have never ever posted a picture of my coffee on the internet.

I am totally not a hipster. 

But there is one thing that I am.

My name is Bethany and I am a packaholic.

Tomorrow is moving day. My suitcases have been packed for exactly four days now in anticipation for the big move. 

For me, it’s not the act of packing that makes me shriek with joy and whistle to myself as I sort things into different pieces of luggage. Let’s be honest; packing in and of itself is not really that cool. It’s not like I get bored and start packing things just for fun. That would be weird. 

The part of packing that makes it such an exuberant experience is that as soon as I finally pull that zipper down and give my bag a few good pats, an adventure is about to begin!  

Such is the case tonight. 

We have been staying in a guesthouse for fifty days. It has been pretty swag. Yet as nice as it has been, I am ready to make the plunge into bucket showers and candlelit electricity. 

You see, packaholism always affects relationships. The constant motion, the distance between myself and loved ones, and the sheer exhaustion of it all has left me somewhat isolated. Skype and e-mails only do so much. My packing levels are high, but my relation levels are low. 

Yet, ironically, I am excited to be packing once more. I am excited because for the first time in a log time, I get to pack for an adventure that I get to keep living. 

 I am excited to live in the same place for more than a few months at a time. I am excited to hang out with my nepali housemates. I am excited to get to know my landlord. I am excited to stay at the little shop across the street for way too long just because I like the little lady that works there. I am excited to have real-life relationships again.

Because I want more than instagrams of coffee, big glasses, and tattoos with like, three meanings. 

I want to love God and love people.

That's why I packed four days ago. That is I why I am a packaholic. 

It's not dandruff: It's cream cheese frosting.

You know those days when you wake up and your first breath is, "oh Lord, I'm going to need a lot of grace today!"?

Yah, I have those like, every day, but yesterday was really intense.

Grace is like bugs... always there!

It was my mom's birthday.

My mom is the coolest person in the world. She deserves everyone to make her a card that says in big letters, "YOU ARE AWESOME!" She does not deserve someone to waltz into the kitchen, stick her grubby little hand into the cake, and then start eating the frosting. The cream-cheese frosting.

But that is exactly what my niece did. She ran into the kitchen, did a drive by grabbing, and then came back a few seconds later giggling.

I was so mad.

I could feel the bitterness raging through my blood. We sang happy birthday like a normal family, and then. she. chased. me. I ran screaming around the stairs, into the dining room, and back into the kitchen. I was just nearing the safety of the lockable bathroom, when smack! I ran straight into her (that part was actually pretty funny).

She had turned around and I didn't see her coming.

Then it happened. Frosting. in my hair. 

Ok... whatever.... I can take a joke and be fun sometimes, but I was still just so mad about her ruining the cake. As I was having frosting smeared on my face and infused into my (just washed!) hair, I prayed, "Lord, help me to love this little girl."

That's when I made a quick basketball pivot, stuck my own grubby little hand into the cake, and smeared it into her face. And I smeared hard.

I think it was a love smear. I mean, at least 50% love and 50% revenge. Ok, ok, it was totally a revenge smear. 

Gah! Now I was really really mad.

At myself.

How the heck am I supposed to go overseas and love people- especially people who think differently and have different values- if I can't even love someone in my own family?

She might as well have thrown humble pie in my face. Talk about needing grace. It was good to be reminded that there is no stinkin' way that I can love people perfectly. That is why grace is so sweet. Because grace isn't for good people who have it all together. It is for people like me who mess up a ton. For jerks and bums and lazy fools. And even for Christians.

Thank you Lord, for your grace.

If I could force it...

If there were two things that I could force into your brain, these would be them:

1. Jesus really, really loves you. A lot.

2. I am so thankful for you. Those of you who are enabling me to go to Nepal are of more worth than words can say. Your encouragement, your conversations with my Father, and your support are worth more than words can say.

That's it. I just want you guys to know that.

Moments will fade into memories.

Listen while you read: "Break Bread" by Josh Garrels 

Welp, I made it!  1728.7 miles was a lot, but the solo journey back to The Natural State is complete. It has taken me two days to recover from the high levels of caffeine and focused driving, but it was so very worth it.

The good ole self timer came in handy again!

So here I am, sitting in my parents' kitchen trying to fully appreciate every second of my last twenty five days of normalcy.

As I sit here awaiting the beep of the oven timer (I have to make homemade bread while I still have an oven!), I am remembering today's gifts- a countryside bike ride with Dad, hopping around with my niece and her bunny, and swapping almost-forgotten summer stories with my mother.

I am relishing each moment that passes, because I know that soon enough each moment will fade into a memory.

I took this photo in order to make
a Monty Python joke for my sister. 

I have been really sad lately about all of the approaching goodbyes, so as I began driving those countless hours back to Arkansas, I expected it to be a solemn journey; just me and my thoughts.

However, somewhere between the London Bridge and the Grand Canyon, I drove into a cloud of peace. I really don't even have a word for the feeling: it was like an "I know that I am in your will, God, so I am not even sad anymore. I am just resting in your Presence, and that satisfies me. Completely."

So as these moments fade into memories, I walk satisfied because I am walking in His Presence.

Al-buh-ker-key.

You know that city in New Mexico? It is a hard word to spell! Try spelling it correctly.
Go on, try it!

 

 This morning I left my house to drive my jeep back to Arkansas. I was nervous and excited for all of the miles ahead of me.

I was praying that I would stay awake and alert on the road and also looking forward to having so much time with the Lord singing, praying and listening!

 By God's grace (and a bit of caffeine!) I made it to Albuquerque (By the way, did you spell it correctly?).  

Here are some cool thoughts from the drive:

 

It's famous, so I got its autograph!

• Jesus rewards those who seek Him. But here's the thing: if I am running a race, I do not get the medal until I finish the race. So be encouraged! Keep seeking Him. He will reward you now, for sure, but the best is yet to come! 

• The women that God used in His story were not exactly         "Proverbs 31" women. Just think about  Jesus' great-great-grandmothers: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba! So: what does that mean for us?

• Desert rain reminds me of God's grace. We humans have no ability to make it rain. We can't stop it either. When it's ready, it comes! Not even a fire can stop the rain. There is no way for us to catch it all. We can't tell it where to go or tell it to stay longer. We can't make it fall on people who deserve it or keep it off of people who do not deserve it. Desert rain nourishes. It is totally sufficient for desert plants. But when it rains, watch out, cause when it rains, it pours. Flash floods are gonna happen... just like grace. 

 

As I was driving, I saw a super fat rainbow in the midst of the rain... promises, promises; He is so faithful!

(If you click to make it bigger, you can kinda see it. Sorry for the photo quality today... this was a drive by!)

834.2 miles. I'm toast! 

      I am going to go read a little John Newton and then hit. the. sack. Night, y'all! 

Three feet tall.

Life works better when I am only three feet tall. Check out some deepa things...