I think I'm ready to write again.
The last 7 months have held so much. I would try to write and come up empty. Or either it was overload. Because we've been plowing the hard ground.
About a year ago, a friend stood in my living room and listened as we poured our hearts out; he said, "You guys are plowing the hard ground." And then prayed over us and our children. Including the ones none of us had met yet.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Daddy preaches and prays
Sunday after Sunday, I remember my daddy preaching Jesus.
But I also remember a few sermons ending abruptly as a straggling visitor eased into the back pew.
Mid-stream, daddy would switch gears and rapidly wind up the morning's message with a simple, "Thank you for coming this morning. If you want to know more about Jesus and His love, please meet me at the back door. Bro. So-and-So, please dismiss us in prayer."
If I tried to glance behind me, my mama would slide her arm around my shoulders to prevent further disruption.
It didn't happen often, but when it did, I knew why.
When they came, Daddy didn't offer an invitation to join the church. It would be too awkward. For everyone. Instead, he had a list of church names where they would be more comfortable worshipping with "their own kind."
But I also remember a few sermons ending abruptly as a straggling visitor eased into the back pew.
Mid-stream, daddy would switch gears and rapidly wind up the morning's message with a simple, "Thank you for coming this morning. If you want to know more about Jesus and His love, please meet me at the back door. Bro. So-and-So, please dismiss us in prayer."
If I tried to glance behind me, my mama would slide her arm around my shoulders to prevent further disruption.
It didn't happen often, but when it did, I knew why.
When they came, Daddy didn't offer an invitation to join the church. It would be too awkward. For everyone. Instead, he had a list of church names where they would be more comfortable worshipping with "their own kind."
Jesus could be shared all day long, but not our pews, and definitely not our lives.
Monday, January 16, 2012
"There's a half-breed on my bus . . ."
*Editor's note - Names have been changed or purposefully left out.
"There's a half-breed on my bus!"
Flabbergasted, I couldn't even respond to my husband at first. "Why are you calling him that?!?!?!"
"That's what _____ called him. Just wait." And then he told me.
"There's a half-breed on my bus!"
Flabbergasted, I couldn't even respond to my husband at first. "Why are you calling him that?!?!?!"
"That's what _____ called him. Just wait." And then he told me.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Awake
via The Gypsy Mama
On Fridays around these parts we stop, drop, and write.
For fun, for love of the sound of words, for play, for delight, for joy and celebration at the art of communication.
For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just writewithout worrying if it’s just right or not.
Won’t you join us?

2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Most important: comment and encourage the person who linked up before you.
Awake…
Sunday, January 8, 2012
ROAAAAAAAR
Editor's Note: Repost from my other blog.
Peace & Self-Control are 2 fruits I am severely lacking in. Discipline & Acceptance play into both of those for me so when I stumbled across Five Minute Friday on The Gypsy Mama's blog I knew God was giving me an opportunity to practice. Thanks you very much! lol
Every Friday Gypsy Mama will post a word, such as roar, and the challenge is to:
- 1. Write for 5 minutes flat – don’t edit; don’t second-guess.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Must: leave a comment for the person who linked up before you – encouraging them in their writing!
Scary stuff for me! My inner editor is a foul fellow, but this challenge will make me squash him at least for 5 minutes and give me the habit of discipline for each Friday & hopefully acceptance of whatever it is. I may have to ask my husband to monitor my behavior to make sure I don't tweak it before posting! Hello my name is Deborah, and I am a control freak.
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