January 22, 2018

January 22, 2018

I hate drinking water. I don’t know why that is. I will walk around thirsty all day, in and out of the kitchen, but I won’t pour myself one glass. I’ll even share my thermos with TD (believe it or not) without taking a sip myself. Not so with my little people. They drink gallons daily; we’re constantly refilling the pitcher. And not only do they guzzle water, they consume every bit of juice, tea, milk, or soda we have in the house. Me? I will nurse my coffee until it’s time to take my meds before bed. Java makes my world go ’round. And that leads me to the woman at the well, the subject of our Sunday school lesson. John 4:1-30 describes how Jesus quenched her thirst—not the kind that you satisfy at the kitchen sink, but the soul-deep need that only the Savior can fulfill. He met that need, and she shared her news, leading others to run and learn about that living water. We should be running, too, sharing “the one thing we know,” what Pastor Livingston taught in church. That one thing is Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. This is Who and What the blind man professed when Jesus healed Him (John 9). The sermon reminded us to look beyond what we see and feel, to be encouraged, healed, and filled by the Living Word that lives within us, just as Paul said in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for...
A Son Is Given

A Son Is Given

Brown Sugar is mourning Christmas. So is Songbird. Last night she pointed out that we had 365 more days until Christmas 2018. December 26 is her least favorite day, even more than the day after her birthday. Just like the rest of us, Songbird and Brown Sugar love all the anticipation and events leading up to Christmas, all the baking, buying, carols, and lights, the late nights watching holiday movies and the sleeping in during vacation. Ah, the Christmas spirit. But we believers still have His Christmas Spirit; for us, it’s always the night before Christmas. And not just today while we recuperate from our turkey-, candied yams-, and key lime pie-induced coma; trip over new toys; and laze around the house enjoying the tree. For us, every day is Christmas Eve, but now we’re looking for Him to come…back. We still call Him “Wonderful, Counselor, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”—and not because of prophecy but because of reality. We yet celebrate Jesus’ birth, His sacrificial gift, and the gift of the Holy Spirit in our life. His kingdom is eternal. (Isaiah 9:6, 7) So, Merry Day After Christmas! And guess what? I’m still accepting presents. “For unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 Of the increase of His government and peace There will be no end, Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom, To order it and establish it with judgment and justice From that time forward, even forever. The zeal of the Lord of...
December 10, 2017

December 10, 2017

After church today, Songbird and Hubby’s conversation turned to green peas. Don’t ask me why. I don’t eat green peas. Neither does Hubby. We’ll eat them with the corn, beans, and sausage in our soup. We’ll tuck them under the crust of our chicken pot pie with the other veggies. But plop a spoonful of plain green peas beside our pork chops, chicken, ribs, or roast? Perish the thought. Not my fam, Sam-I-Am. My mama cooked field peas or black-eyed peas with ham hocks or other meat, but she didn’t make me eat a lot of green peas. So, I didn’t develop the habit or the taste buds to eat them. And since neither Hubby nor I eat green peas, our little people don’t eat them, and it’s unlikely they’ll serve them to my grand peeps. It’s going to take the love of a son- or daughter-in-law to introduce the hidden beauty of green peas into their life. Now, what does this have to do with Jesus (because you know it does)? I don’t really care if they eat green peas, what some call the “world’s healthiest food.” We supply enough collards, cabbage, green beans, kale, zucchini, and broccoli to make up for it. What I care about most is that they serve the greatest God. I want to witness the blessings of Jesus coming out rather than the benefit of peas going in. My folks passed down a healthy helping of faith. They took me to church—dragged me, if you will—on Sunday mornings, New Year’s Eve, and Wednesday nights. I sang in the junior choir, sat through Sunday school, and attended VBS. I admit I...
Sipping from the Saucer

Sipping from the Saucer

Scrolling through old family pictures reminded me of that Christmas we learned that Number Six was on the way. Hubby and I were wide eyed. We asked ourselves, “How did this happen?” All we could do was shake our heads. In fact, now that I think about it, we’d shaken our heads in wonder and disbelief with Numbers 4 and 5 as well (we take full responsibility for TD). Admittedly, most of our “wonder” was fear in disguise. We balked at our family’s response to our happy news, calculated the age we’d be once all our peeps graduated, imagined how my body would look and feel when all was said and done, wondered what kind of car would hold us all (because it wasn’t the one parked in the driveway). Once we took a deep breath and hitched up our big boy and big girl pants, we remembered, “Oh, yeah, that’s right! Our father is the King. He’s got this.” Since then, we’ve sat back and enjoyed the ride—that bumpy, twisty-turny, forty-foot-drop-filled, uphill chugging, rollercoaster-simulating, tearful, and thrilling ride of our lifetime. I wouldn’t change a thing—well, nothing major, but I’m only human. And do you know what blows my mind? No, it’s not the cost of paying for seven college educations or the length of seven Christmas lists. It’s that if I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have chosen any of this. My choice was settling down with the three children I’d agreed on and watching them skip off to a yellow school bus while I edited my way through a satisfactory life. Yet God. His way has been beyond...
Grace Under Covers

Grace Under Covers

This morning, all I can think about is this old nursery rhyme I used to read to Crusader: “Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown, Tapping at the window and crying through the lock, Are all the children in their bed, for now it’s eight o’clock?” Or something t’other, as my character, Granny B, might say. Well, that poem about sums up my week thus far. Yesterday, I was running upstairs and downstairs, through the town, and checking on little people late into the night. Now I’ll spend the day in my nightgown, or something equally comfy. I have moaned and groaned over this weakness, frittering away valuable time, fretting over the whys and hows. But not today. Today, I’m choosing to see this day in bed, on the sofa, on my chaise, or in my seat in front of the fireplace as an opportunity, a gift forced upon me by the God Who knows my need. Really, Robin? You need weakness, achiness, and pain? I suppose so, at least today. It means I can’t run around cleaning, washing, instructing, and hustling, carrying out that whole upstairs-downstairs routine of life. The only part of me that’ll make it up or down today is my voice, yelling, “Can someone bring me my charger?” and “Play with TD!” Yesterday, I reached into the barrel and scooped out the grace I needed to do all that, plus get my party on with my little girlies to boot. It was enough. Today, I scooped out my daily grace using that same measure, but it served a different purpose: I get to write a post, read,...