A Michigan Kind’a Week | Part 1 | Monday – Tuesday – Wednesday - Thursday

Ok, this is long, for which I do not apologize. Dad was making fun of me because I have been spending so much time typing. You see, I have time to be as detailed as I wish, because I’m writing this on the ten-hour drive from Detroit to Baltimore. But, as you know, this blog is just for me to write about life and what goes on, and if you want to read it, you’re welcome to it. We had a great visit, the best one yet, and so much happened, all of it good, so I didn’t want to miss any important details.

Ok, ready?

Long Car Rides: Padgett Style:

(I wrote this first part while we were on the road heading TO Michigan, thought I’d just include it here :-)

On the road, somewhere in Pennsylvania. 12:30 pm:

We started this morning at 7:00 (after I took a quick trip at 6:30 to the library to drop off that book I’d been meaning to bring back) and after Ben gave Dad the “talk” (“now Dad, when you get up tomorrow morning, I’m not going to be here, so just make sure to be good, follow all the rules…” etc.) Followed by Dad giving us the “talk” (“ok, kids, be sure to listen to Mom, don’t be too loud in the car, and don’t be obnoxious. Even though that is impossible for you Ben” (those were his exact words!)) And we were off!

We drove for a while in silence. The boys watching their movies, Mom and I listening to Odysseys in the front, and Emmy doing who knows what in the back. But, as life would have it, silence cant last. Around the time we started hitting the tunnels in Pennsylvania the movies had been turned off and the boys were restless. Then, Nick saw the signs just before the tunnels ordering to “Take Sunglasses Off”. “Quick!!” Nick yelled to me, “give me some sunglasses so I can take them off!” I passed back the pair Dad kept in the van, but as soon as they were on his face, Nick leans back and declares, “Look at me! I’m breaking the law!” of course this prompted Benj to send Emmy scrambling for her sunglasses so that he could wear them and join his brother in crime. They started singing some song about living the life of a criminal, and whenever we’d approach a new tunnel one slid the sunglasses. They even were so daring as to wave at a police car parked at the entrance of one tunnel, daring him to arrest these fearless lawbreakers!

Monday: Arrive | Boy Scouts | Meijer | Friends

The family minus Dad arrives in good ol’ Detroit area (sorry friends, please know that I fully understand that we were not literally in the city of Detroit, but that is what we have come to call all of lower east Michigan, for the sake of foreigners you know). We were staying with my Grandma Padgett (Dads mom) and her husband Gary. No sooner had we unloaded the car though, and we were hopping back on the road to get the boy scout meeting that night.

It was great to see all those boys, all grown up! (it’s really crazy how fast boys can grow in just a year!) I was proud of them, as most of them were willing to hug us girls without a fight. :-)

We left the boys there, to spend the night with the VanDykes, while Mom, Emmy and I headed out for a Meijer run. May I just tell you who have not been blessed with the wonders of Meijer stores, I am sorry. Just walking into the store around the corner from our old house was a breath of fresh air! So clean and familiar!

After we’d stocked up on things we cant seem to find in Maryland, we headed out to see a dear family. This was a family I babysat for several years. They have three kids, Sarah (16) David (15) and Lily (12?). Sarah and Lily are sisters the family adopted, and it’s very much because of this family and them sharing their story with me that has led me to have a heart for adoption and foster care (both Lily and Sarah, as well as their brother Patrick who is in the boy scout troop were all in foster care before they were adopted into these families). So it was wonderful to be able to spend the evening with them. Sarah, who is a special needs child, and just beautiful, showed off her tricks in the pool, and Lily and David filled me in on all that has gone on in the past year. I was being pulled three different ways trying to see everything, and I loved it!

After saying goodbye to everyone (and Mom and Emmy finally talked me out of there after I ignored them several times :-) we headed back to Grandma’.

Tuesday: Frisbee | Pizza and Water | Tim Hortins

First thing in the morning us kids headed over to the field behind Clinton Macomb Library, our old Frisbee spot, and were joined by sixteen of our friends to play a good game of Ultimate! I hadn’t played Frisbee in a good year, so I was excited. Our first game we tried girls vs. boys, but we girls underestimated our “little” brothers. In the past we would grudgingly let the boys play with us, even though they’d usually only get in the way, but now they are tall, and fast and accurate!

It was HOT and humid out, and soon it was lunchtime and we were out of water. So we made a snap decision to grab a few pizzas from Little Ceasar’s. So Jessie, Heather G. and I hopped in the car and made the quick trip while the rest of the kids laid out in the field waiting.

Danielle had brought a big jug with water, which had soon run out in the heat, so when we got to the pizza place, Heather and I brought the jug in with us to see if they would help us out. (I was curious to see what they did if we asked them for water.)

After ordering our three Hot ‘N Ready’s, I put the jug on the counter and told the guy “there's a bunch of us out playing Frisbee in a hot field and we are dying of dehydration. So I was wondering if you would do us a favor and just run this under a sink?”

He said, “uh, sure, I can do that.” And he took the jug back while we waited. Another guy saw us standing there with our pizzas and he asked if we needed anything. I told him we were just waiting for some water, just as our man came back up with our jug. As he passed the confused guy he shrugged and said, “I thought I’d be nice.”

I thanked him, informing him he was a life saver, and we took our pizzas and water and headed back to the field…where all the young teenage boys inhaled the pizzas in seconds!

We played a few more games then headed home to Grandmas to sleep.

Later, I went out to Tim Hortins coffee shop (again, if you don’t have them, your life is lacking) where my church’s college and career group usually meets. Unfortunately half the group was out of town, and most of the rest had other commitments, but Jon was there, so we hung out and talked till way too late and had a great time catching up (and enjoying wonderful iced capps!)

Wednesday: Grand Rapids | Abigail

We all piled back into the van and drove the three hours (which seemed surprisingly fast compared to the ten it took from MD to MI) to Grand Rapids, where we stayed with my Grandma LeRoux (Mom’s mom). That afternoon Emmy and I went to Woodland mall to meet the one and only Abigail at the food court. We spent a great time chatting, catching up, and talking about what the summer will hold.

Thursday: Cornerstone

Mom and I headed out to Cornerstone University, which is roughly a half hour from Grandma’s house. I’ve been accepted at CU, but I’m prayerfully waiting for God to make it clear if that’s where He wants me this fall (considering the whole money issue is still a problem). But, if I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s to move and wait for God to whisper in my ear whether to turn to the right or the left. So I moved by going to CU to tour and talk to a counselor there.

I really loved the campus, and the community seems to be just what I would love and what I crave. However, I still haven’t seen any billboards in the sky telling me what to do, but I LOVED the campus and am praying that God provides.

Lessons in trust, I’ll tell ya, they’re crazy!

Tea Time, Time For Tea!

A few months ago, my mom pointed out that there was going to be a Tea for the middle school girls. “You should see if they need any help with it.” she suggested. So I excitedly introduced myself to Miss Jody, the woman hosting the tea, and she graciously welcomed my help. Yay!

The tea was Sunday afternoon, and I had SO much fun!

We started off with a few final preparations. When given the choices of tea flavors, I asked Erica which she would prefer. She announced that she LOVED Red Zinger. Unfortunately there was only one bag of the Red Zinger, and we needed two for a pot. We wondered for a moment what the difference was between “Red” Zinger and “Raspberry” Zinger, and decided to be bold and put the bag of Red mixed with the bag of Raspberry, and dubbed it our “Zinger Zinger” or, “Double Zinger” tea.

When more girls began to arrive, Miss Jody gave them a baby name book and multicolored place cards, instructing them to look up their names in the book, and write down the definitions they found on their place cards. This was something I suggested inspired by a similar activity we did while I was at Focus. The girls seemed to love it, and it made me smile to watch them excitedly look up their names, then their middle names, then their families names, and then just any name that popped into their head!

Then it was to the table! Miss Jody had a beautiful lay out of everything a girl would imagine at a fine tea, from cucumber sandwiches, to fresh scones with lemon curd, to beautifully decorated sugar cookies, to sugar cubes! We enjoyed ourselves, acting like fine ladies and the pleasant company.

After we ate, Miss Jody asked me to share a little devo, during which I shared my story of discovering the meaning of my name and how I have learned to define myself (see the “Symposium” blog post) and I also talked about the importance of names as God shows us in the Bible, and God’s promise of knowing our name and never forgetting it.

After that we cleared the table and got out the beads and made bracelets with our names spelled out in letter beads. Some of the girls included words from their definition as a reminder. After which the beading and chatting continued, turning out several more bracelets and necklaces and earrings, until the parents began to show up to reclaim their beautiful daughters.

It was such a blessing for me to be able to join in on this special day. I have always loved tea parties and to be able to help out was just wonderful for me!

Plus, I am loving every opportunity to get to know the girls at this church. I have loved these girls even before I met them. While I was at Focus, God really laid these girls on my heart, I didn’t even know how many girls would be at the church, but I knew that I wanted to use every opportunity to get to know them and speak into their lives, whoever they were. So imagine my excitement, when every time I am given an opportunity to spend time with them, I find myself not so much the one blessing, but the one being blessed! These are some wonderful, beautiful girls, and they are quickly growing into lovely young women. in just the few instances that I’ve been given to spend with them so far, I have seen them display beauty and graciousness, they welcome me as if I were one of them, even though I am many years their senior! I am excited to see how God uses them as they grow in Him, and hopeful that I will be given many more such opportunities to know them better!

The Room that Built Me (June 10, 2010 )

I wrote this just after I had packed up my precious basement room in our Cumberland house last year. I was just about to leave it forever. At the end I had included the lyrics to a Miranda Lambert song, here’s the link if you want to hear it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o

The Room that Built Me

June 10, 2010

In the beginning, this room was ugly by anyone’s standards. The walls were covered in atrocious, large flowered wall paper, from which hung gaudy lamps and sicky carpet girded the squeaky floor. Worst of all, the right hand wall was no wall at all, rather a half a wall, with a large window into the rest of the basement which had to be covered with a sheet for some cheap privacy. But I didn’t care (much, that window wall was quite annoying) it was all mine. My very own room. Years later, dad would finally get around to redoing my room, the wall would be properly covered in dry wall and an escape window would be cut (my very own window!) I faithfully painted my walls the color of the sky and ringed them with flowers (of a much more reasonable size) of every color, and later on, green carpeting would complete the room to create a place of everlasting spring.

I loved decorating my room; I filled the walls with my art, pretty pictures from the random magazine, the oddest assortment of memories and “junk”. My friends used to gaze on my walls and comment on the mass amount of stuff on them, my room was often referred to a museum of sorts, and in a way, it was, a museum of my life. I was proud of my walls, if I found something that made me smile, I’d post it on my walls. Discover a Bible verse that I needed to work on, on the wall it’d go. The more my walls held, the happier I was.

It was sad to take it down. When I was packing my walls, the words of the Italian painter on that episode of The Dick VanDyke show were playing on repeat in my head “give’ah me your walls’ah!” My glow in the dark stars are now the only treasures to remain on my walls, I can’t take those off until my last night, or I wont be able to sleep in the black emptiness their absence will create.

My escape window is a novelty, it provides me with a touch of sunshine, yet not enough to wake me too early on those precious sleep-in days. I love to have it open up above my head so I can listen to the night as I snuggle in my bed below. There is a special time, around three o’clock in the afternoon, when the sun is in the perfect position to shine between the houses and directly into my window. I discovered this time one day when I looked at my ceiling and discovered an array of tiny rainbows dancing above my head. I excitedly searched for the source of these colorful fairies and found that the sun was shining through my window and directly through the stack of crystals I had sitting on my windowsill. From that day on, those crystals were left unmoved, and whenever that short time would come, I’d turn off the lights in my room and just watch the rainbows dance. The time lasted only a few moments before the sun moved too far and was once again blocked by the rooftops, but it was beautiful. Then, late one night as insomnia was my only company, I discovered at around three AM the same phenomenon occurred, only this time with moonbeams. These spots of light lacked the vibrant color of the sunlit rainbows, but the peacefulness of the white lights was enough to lull me to sleep.

This window of mine has been the cause of many an adventure. The window rests in a deep well, about three feet deep, the bottom of the well is covered in small pebbles, below which is a drainage system. This drainage system has not always been perfect, however.

The first time I was awakened by the flooding I wasn’t even in the room yet, rather I was sleeping in the room next to mine while we redid mine. There was a storm outside and I woke to the sound of water running. When my brain had cleared of sleepiness enough to realize that water should not be coming from anywhere, I bolted out of bed and into my room where I was greeted with the sight of water filling half of my window and steadily water falling down my walls and onto my floor. I dashed upstairs and woke dad with “my window is flooding!!” we were able to bail the window out and a better drainage system was installed.

The next time, I was in my bed, under the window, when I was again awaken by the sound of pouring water. Again, it took a few minutes for me to realize that water pouring is never a good sound in my room. I turned on the lights and again, water was half way up my window and streaming in. I thought quickly, pulled my bed away from the wall, unplugged the electronics from the socket on that wall, and ran to alert Mom and Dad. Mom and I worked on clearing that half of my room and drying off my things, while Dad bailed the window. Luckily, nothing was ruined or lost from that flooding, but I had to spend days letting the carpet air out and hoping the musty smell would dissipate.

The last time of a flood, was the worst. I was home alone; the rest of the family was up north where there was poor cell phone reception. This time, I was up watching TV when the storm hit. At some point, I went downstairs to get a blanket. I glanced in my window and saw the water, level with the bottom of my window, not yet spilling in, but dangerously close. I sprang into action. Pull away bed, unplug electronics, grab bucket, flashlight, cell phone, run, run, run. Outside, I began bailing before anything else, when I got the water low enough where I was sure it wouldn’t enter my room, I started calling Dad. it was about 11:30 at night. My call wouldn’t go through! I’d call, bail, call, bail, call again. Finally, I remember Dad mentioning to text if the calls wouldn’t work, since texting got slightly better service then the calls. So, I texted, the first text I ever sent in my life, painfully slow I punched out the message “window flooded call”.

After about a half hour dad called, but by then the storm had stopped and the window was clear of water. There was nothing else to do, so I went to bed. That was not the end though.

The next morning was church, afterwards, a friend of mine asked me to come over for lunch and a movie. It started raining again but I didn’t think much of it. I had cleared the drain the night before so there shouldn’t be any problems. But, when I was diving home, the streets were flooded and I began to worry. I hadn’t realized how much it had rained that afternoon. I got home and before even going inside I ran around the house in my heels to check my window. Yup, the window was half full already and probably flowing into my room.

I ran down stairs, pulling off my skirt on the way so I could jump right into my grunge clothes from the night before. On my way to my room I slipped on the water that was already collecting on the basement floor outside. “Crap! Crap! Crap!” I mumbled over and over as I pulled as much as I could to safety in five seconds before bolting outside to bail.

My family got home just as I was reaching the bottom of the window well, and after assessing the damage, we again discovered that nothing too important was lost (except of course the carpet which was ruined, but we had some green carpeting laying around, so in the end, it wasn’t to tragic of a loss). And once again, the drainage system was tweaked, and to this day I have yet to see even an inch of water collect in there.

Water is not the only thing my window has collected over the years however. I have had many a little visitor trapped in that well. Of course, it makes a prime hiding place for the occasional cub scout when playing hide and seek, but those wild creatures had to be banned when they kept breaking my screen when jumping in and out. However, there have been other, more interesting creatures jumping around in there.

One Saturday morning, I was lying in bed, listening to Adventures in Odyssey on the radio, when I heard a scratching sound outside. Curiously, I popped my blinds up and looked out, and looking back at me was a little baby bunny. He must have hopped in but was too small to hop back out. I went to wake Dad and with his help we rescued the bunny to hop away to his mother.

The other baby found in my window well did not have such a happy ending. I was again alerted to the presence of something trapped by the sounds of scratching. This time I discovered a baby robin, too small to fly out. I didn’t know what to do, not wanting to touch him since I knew if I did his mother might smell me on him and not help him. So I did the only thing I could, I left him there. He died the next day and I buried him in the yard next to the baby mice I had tried to save a few months before.

After that, other then a few frogs and toads, my window well remained free of poor fallen baby animals.

This room, deep in the basement, was more then a room to me; it was a sanctuary when I needed peace from the world. It was a friend when I just needed to cry. It was the place where I kept my deepest secrets. It saw me through those awful teen years. It withstood the shaking when I slammed the door in pure anger and frustration, when I threw things the walls stood firm. It understood when I needed to just let loose and sing, and it was my dancing partner when I danced alone in the middle of the night. It didn’t mind when I let the clutter get out of hand, and it provided me with a place to cram the things I just had to have but had no purpose for. This room welcomed my friends as a place they could see me as the “bear in her own den.” It protected me from the fears I didn’t want to face. It gave me memories and something to love.

From here on out, I may never have a room to myself again, but I will always remember this room, the room that saw me through the most important years of my life…the room that built me.

The House The Built Me (Miranda Lambert)

I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

A Dentists Office (October 16, 2008)

I recently rediscovered a bunch of things I’d written over the past few years. Some of them are unfinished, but still fun, so I’m not sure if you’ll see any of those yet. We shall see :-)

But this first one is an observation I wrote when I was 18 and waiting in our dentist’s office. Every word is truth!

A Dentists Office

October 16, 2008

I sit curled up in the corner of the overstuffed, leather couch in the dentist’s waiting room. I am the only one there. The TV hanging in the corner plays some history show about ghosts, the volume muted. Two hygienists chat politics behind the desk. The air is full of the smell of the tooth cleaner, making me feel sick, feeling almost as is I had already had my teeth cleaned. My mouth is full of the taste of the tooth past I’d used a few moments before. I can hear the sound of a drill coming from one of the rooms, the high pitched squealing causes my head to ache.

I look around the dim room wherein I await my appointment. The walls are adorned by two large, framed posters; not helping to lighten the mood of the room. One poster is a photograph of a lonely white plate with colorful toothpicks casually tossed upon it. The presents of the poster brings nothing but forlornness and loneliness to the viewer, not the emotions one would hope to experience while waiting to have a tooth filled. However, the second poster makes this look like a field of daisies in comparison, and I would not be surprised should this second poster create nightmares in many a child’s dreams. This was a dark photograph of a large, wooden barrel that is bursting full of laughing white masks; chin to nose, with wide, red, wicked smiles smirking with menace. An inscription below the picture reads “Barrel of Laughs”.

Someone has changed the channel on the TV; now the screen is illuminated with the bright colors of Cartoon Network, the antics of Tom and Jerry play across the screen.

A plastic tree stands lazily in the corner, in dire need of a dusting. A coffee table stands erect in the center of the room, bearing the weight of many years worth of out dated magazines. A small bookshelf off to the side holds children's books and toys, the same I used to entertain myself when I was younger. The wall above the shelf is plastered with dozens upon dozens of self-developed photos of kids sitting in the dentists chair on their first appointments, told to smile and “show their teeth”. The looks in the children's eyes are unsure as to what there is to smile about. I find my own hesitant smile near the middle.

Free booklets with information about teeth hang from a display on another wall. The models in the pictures plastered on the booklets smile insanely; their oh-so-perfect teeth gleam with an unnaturally white intensity, a promise of what we might achieve.

The TV emits a childish whistling music, to happy and out of place in the otherwise quiet building.

The time is 3:13pm; my appointment had been set for 3:00. The dentist is late, as usual. I am bored. I’m hungry. I hope I don’t have any cavities.

The door to the waiting room opens. Karen, the hygienist that always cleans my family’s teeth pokes her head in and cheerfully tells me that she could take me now. How any sane person could be so happy in this dismal place I’ll never know.

I gather my things and follow her to the empty room across the hall, silently greeting the old, hulking clown head as I pass. The clown’s body is a helium tank; his lips are permanently pursed to inflate balloons. In the past, kids would receive a balloon to keep them happy after their appointment, but now his only occupation is to lurk in the hall, smiling to all who pass.

As I lower myself into the seat of the dentist chair, I grip the armrests, my head cocked forward to allow Karen to pin the paper bib around my neck. I squint against the bright light hanging above my head.

After lowering my chair, Karen closes in on my mouth with her glinting tools, chatting nonstop all the time.

I am helpless; all I can do is lay there, a victim to another teeth cleaning.

Praying For Your Future Husband

I am doing this thing called “Blogging For Books” where the publisher sends me a free book and all I have to do is read it (ha, easy enough!) then write a review and post it to both a distributor website and my own personal blog…and I get the book free!

So when I saw that one of the books offered was “Praying for Your Future Husband” by Robin Jones Gunn and Tricia Goyer, I was very excited to pick it up, for two reasons: since what I want to be when I grow up is a mother and wife, it’s pretty important that my husband, whoever he is, is a strong man of God, and right now, since I don’t know who he is, the only way that I can encourage him to be so is to pray for him. I know that whoever he is, and wherever he is in life, God is with him and watching over him, and I know God will use my prayers to help him become the man he needs to be.

But that’s not the only reason I was excited for this book. See, if I want me and my husband to be the best team possible for our family, then not only does he need to be a great man of God, but I need to be continually developing to be a woman of God (and goodness do I need all the help I can get!) and what was wonderful about this book, not only did it give reasons and topics to pray for my future husband, but it also helped me pray those same things for myself! I don’t want to ask my husband to be anything I wouldn't be myself, and I have been so encouraged by this book to begin developing these strong characteristics in myself as well as praying that God would develop the same things in my future husband.
in this corrupted world, we need all the help we can get, and prayer is our strongest weapon, so lets use it!

(below is the review I posted to the website, it gives more details in case your interested :-)

Great book! Opens up a lot of discussion for how one goes about praying for her future husband, and in turn how prayer can change the girl praying for the better. Each chapter followed a well planed layout: discuss the topic, tell a portion of the two authors own love stories in reference to the topic at hand, share a few more real life stories shared by women and how prayer played a part in their love stories, bring it all around at the end summing up the chapter, and then closing with two prayers that the reader can pray, one about her future husband, and one for the reader to pray for herself, asking God to not only develop the qualities she was praying for in her husband to be, whoever he is, but that He would also give her opportunities to grow in those same characteristics.

I know that many girls scoff at the “ploys” that seem to be rampart in our society to “get a guy”. I’ve heard girls complain that so many girls think that if they start doing things like praying for their future husband, that God would suddenly make him appear. What I liked about this book, however, was that the authors did a fine job of showing the power of prayer, and how prayer for a future husband not only benefits the man in question (as told in many amazing stories in the book where women got the feeling to pray specific things for their future husbands on the very day the men needed it most!) but prayer also greatly benefits the one praying, and develops a deeper, more personal relationship with God!

This is a great book for any girl who is in that place of discouragement because she longs to find her “one” but is clueless as to what she can do about it. There is power in prayer!

May 22, 2011…And Life Goes On

If I were to believe the billboard a couple of miles from my house, I would be very surprised to be here today. The billboard held Harold Camping’s claim of Christ return on May 21, 2011. He’d discovered this day though some formula he put together having to do with the many dates mentioned in the Bible, based off the verse in 2 Peter that says, “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.” While Camping’s argument may have convinced thousands of people around the world that the end was near, all I could think about was the verses that he seemed to have overlooked, Matthew 24:36 and 42 and 44: “No one knows about the day or hour, not even the angels in Heaven, not the Son, but only the Father…Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come…So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect Him.”

(Photo taken May 22, 2011)

Aren’t we cocky? That we can even speculate to figure out something that Jesus Himself doesn’t even know?

And besides, the message of the Bible is simple, and the truth is, God doesn’t work with complicated words and math problems. The Bible isn’t one big puzzle He has just been waiting for us to work out. And seems to me, if God were going to put a secret message in His word, just waiting for some one to crack the code, more than one man would have figured it out, and long ago. I refuse to believe that God would weave secret codes and complicated math problems into His message.

However, while I don’t place any belief in this theory, I have to admit, the idea that Friday, May 20^th could be my last day on earth did give me a sense of excitement. I was filled with thoughts of how, and if, I would live that day differently supposing I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was the last day before Jesus returned. Well, turns out I didn’t live it any differently. I still slept in as late as my schedule would allow. I still snapped at my family. I still sped down the freeway going to work. I still didn’t put my full heart into everything I did. I still put off talking with God and reading His word. I still remained in a comfort zone. I still found ways to please myself above all others. Silly girl.

Friday I spent the night at a house I’m house sitting for some friends while they are away. This was my first night there, and I was alone. Before I left my sister and I were teasing about calling each other in the middle of the night to make sure we’d still be there, and when my mom called to tell me something, she jokingly informed me that “we’re still here”. Now, at this house I have no internet connection, and no TV. So, realistically, if Christ did return in the middle of the night, I’d have no way of knowing it. (And, truthfully, I wasn’t comforted by the too many sirens passing on the busy street behind the house!). But what did I have to be afraid of? I have no doubt of my Christianity, I fully believe that faith in Jesus is the only way to Heaven and life forever, so why was I afraid that He could be coming that night? Quite simply, because I’m not ready. Yes, of course Heaven will be wonderful, and I know once I’m there I’ll laugh at myself for ever thinking I would want to prolong my time here. But when I think of standing before God, and remembering all the countless times I told Him “later”, “not right now”, “I don’t feel like it” and all the other excuses, that’s what scares me. I have no promise of “later”, none of us do. We are only promised now. We can’t know what tomorrow holds. (Proverbs 27:1 “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.” James 4:14 “You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”)

And besides that, I have things I want to do, (ya hear that? “I want”, still working on that selfishness) I want to experience life, I want to get married, I want to raise a family, I, I, I. I wonder what God wants? But even then, the promise of “right now” is still something I ignore. I say “God, someday I want to do such and such.” I just imagine Him, listening to me go on and on, shaking His head and laughing, saying, “Ashley, look around. What are you doing right now? Look at the wonderful gift of time I have given you today, what have you done with it?” To which I shamefully hang my head and whisper, “well, I guess I haven’t done anything really, maybe I’ll do better tomorrow?” Tomorrow, always tomorrow.

We don’t know the day or the hour of His coming. Not even Harold Camping, but every time someone says, “Jesus could come next week, it could be tomorrow, it could even be right…now!” I always hold my breath, because it could be right NOW! God is not going to ask my permission whenever the time comes; He’s not going to cater to my status of readiness. All He asks of me, and of ALL of us, is that we live everyday as if it were May 20^th, 2011, always looking for His return, and living as if tomorrow we will see His face, and be welcomed to His open arms.

Jesus is coming…are you ready now?

“Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come…So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect Him.” – Matthew 24:42 & 44

Sure As The Butter Flies (And Me Too!)

This might be a little random, but I thought it was fun :-) This is a recounting dream I had today during my afternoon nap. It was so exciting that after I woke up I went over the details again and again in my head so I wouldn't forget it, and I’ve put in as many details as I could remember. I’ve had many running dreams, but I’ve never flown before that I can remember, and in every single other running dream I was always running away from something that hurt me, never anything like this! So anyways, I decided to write it down, and maybe it’ll make you laugh :-)

I was dreaming that I was at my friend Jessie’s house (only, of course it looked nothing like her real house, I just knew it was hers) and I told her “Jess, you need to invite me over to swim sometime because I got a new bathing suit and I haven’t been able to use it yet.” (now, this is true, but when I said this in the dream we were already floating in her pool (which was in ground, unlike her real above ground pool) but I was in my clothes.)

Next thing I know, I’m swimming in the pool (in my bathing suit, because this is another day) and Jess has gone inside (the house was hers, but now the backyard belongs to me, even though it’s the same backyard as before). It’s sunny and comfortably warm for a summer day. All the greens are bright and illuminated by the sun. The yard is like a small valley, surrounded by four hills, each about three feet or so high (this is important later) with the pool on the right half, and a large tree with a hammock hanging from it in the other half. Along the back of the house is a garden, and in the garden is my trellis from our old Michigan house, and my irises are growing near the trellis. I'm swimming, and my mom, brother and sister are sitting on one of the hills reading.

I look up and see the most beautiful butterfly flying above me. I point to it and yell “Mom! Look! That’s the most beautiful one I ever saw!” the butterfly has large, gossamer wings (this is the word I think in my dream, gossamer) and it is colored with a shimmering, pastel rainbow, and it’s body was gold. The butterfly landed on a low hanging branch of the tree, above me in the pool, and I studied it as it rested.

Suddenly, the butterfly took flight toward the trellis, and I got out of the pool and followed it. I sat down under the trellis and held up my left hand and the butterfly landed on my index finger, and then it fluttered up above my head. I was sitting Indian style on the mulch, and when the butterfly started flying above my head I held my hands up to my chin and giggled like a Disney princess (these were my exact thoughts in the dream: “I should giggle like a Disney princess now.” No, I’m not kidding!). Then the butterfly did the most amazing thing! It grabbed hold of the end of my ponytail, and started pulling me across the yard! I ran up the soft grassy hill to the right, turned around and ran back down into the yard, across to the hill on the other side, but just as I was about to begin climbing the hill on the left the butterfly lifted me to the top of the hill! I turned around and headed back to the hill on the right, and the same thing happened! I somehow understood that the butterfly needed my momentum from running to get that final lift, so I ran swiftly and lightly, and she lifted me as I reached each end.

I was yelling for Jessie, “Jessie!! Come out now! You’ve got to see this!” and for my mom and brother and sister to watch me. I started yelling for my brother (it was Ben) to grab my camera that he had with him (and was part of the beginning of this dream which I cant remember) and take a video. Every time I passed him I’d yell for him to get it, but he kept trying and couldn’t get to video to work.

One time, as we ran passed the tree, the butterfly magically lifted the hammock so I could run under it. Then she lifted me so high that I was between the electrical wires! But when we went that high I told her “oh, that’s a little high for me, a little too high for Ashley.”

On our next trip passed Ben, he took a picture, but only of my feet. “Video! Video!” I yelled (by the way, all this yelling and screaming was the kind I’ve always experienced in dreams, where I’m trying to scream, but nothing but a weak gurgle comes out, I can never get my screams passed the phlegm in my throat. But this means that if anyone were around while I was having this dream, I’d imagine they would have been able to hear me talking and moaning in my sleep). Finally, Emily exasperatedly put down the book she was reading and showed Ben how to get the video. But as soon as he figured it out, the butterfly gently put me down and flew back into the tree. I somehow knew that she didn’t want to be filmed.

And then I woke up.