Oh, Golly!

Oh, golly! What is a girl to say? I won the P31 writing contest with an entry below called "The Determined Life." I am thrilled and humbled. I read so many good entries this weekend. I didn't think I had a chance.... That and I'm not use to winning contests -- unless the cakewalk when I was 10 counts!

Proverbs 31 sponsored it. It was through Lysa Terkeurst's blog . There is a list of all the entries. You should peruse them. They are all really good. I think there were about 110. I spent a lot of time reading and commenting this weekend. It was very encouraging!

Thanks Lysa and P31. I think you made my day, my week, and maybe my year!

A Rose By Any Other Name -- Hope Chronicles 11

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose , by any other name would smell as sweet." It's a famous line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliette. And the conclusion is that the name isn't what matters. Romeo would still be Romeo even if he wasn't a Montague (but it would have been easier if that was the case). A rose smells the same no matter what it is called.


Can I weigh in on both sides? Yes, a rose still smells the same, but there is something significant about our names. Why else would we be hurt when someone cannot remember our names? However, I am also willing to admit that this may be a pet peeve of mine. As you might guess from the picture, I am an identical twin. I do mean identical. We were constantly mixed up as children. I know the trick of telling us apart in some of the more "staged" photos. (We were placed in alphabetical order.) Give me purely candid shots and I am often guessing too!


Recently, I had some friends' children over. One found a tape and wanted to know what movie I had rented. It was actually a video made out of the reel to reel (yes, I'm dating myself) tapes of when I was a child. He wanted to see and asked, "So which one are you?" All the motion of two busy two-year-olds left it impossible for me to decide which one I was!



While some twins "outgrow" this identicalness, Sara and I still look remarkably alike. She recently attended the Hearts at Home conference in Grand Rapids, MI -- about 5 1/2 hours from where I live. Several people from my church are involved in Hearts. Sara had person after person come up and exclaim, "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming." To which she replied, "I am NOT who you think I am!"


In light of this, I'll have to forgive my grandfather for never knowing us apart. He called all the granddaughters "Honey" and "Missy" interchangeably while we were growing up. At about 14, it dawned on us to ask, "Now, which one am I?" We were horrified to find he didn't know!


Perhaps it is teenage girl thing, but I went through a phase of deciding what I would name my children when I had them. In bookstores, I could be found perusing the baby name books because somewhere in my head I had decided that when I named my children, I wanted the names to have meaning. This meant that they needed to be named after someone important in my life or that the name actually meant something. I planned out how I would tell them what their name meant and that each time I spoke their name I was speaking that characteristic into being in them. Lovely thought, isn't it?



At the same time, I could not resist knowing what my name meant. All the books agreed that "Amy" meant "beloved." However, I never had the courage to ask my parents why they chose that name for me. I know very little about the day I was born except that they had no clue that they were in for a bonus baby! I do not know if that excited them or overwhelmed them. I know only that we were premature and had to stay in the hospital for awhile and that Sara went home several days before I did. I do not know if they kept a vigil while we were there. I really know next to nothing.


But I do know that I did not feel "beloved." My family was a dysfunctional mess and "I love you" was not said and affection was not shown. (Even as adults, my sisters and I cannot seem to move beyond this.) I learned early on that it was better to read unobserved in the corner than to be noticed. If you were noticed, there was typically a sharp word or a criticism or a reprimand or any number of things. So, in my mind, I think I have always felt that it was some cruel joke like calling the fat kid "Skinny" to be called "Beloved" and not feel loved.


Most of my Christian life, I have approached God with caution. I've sometimes thought that I had snuck in the backdoor and could only stay as long as He didn't notice me. For awhile I opted out of church. When I came back, I came back literally trembling. For months I did not partake in communion just in case God might strike me down with a great zap from heaven for sullying His table after having abandoned church for so many months and being a sinner.

Luckily, even when I abandoned church, God did not abandon me. God has brought me into a great community of believers. From my friend Jill I have learned to say, "I love you." I also believe she has chosen to love me. I was (and to some degree still am) as prickly as porcupine when she first met me. (It can't be easy to love a porcupine!) Perhaps, more importantly than learning to say it, I have learned to hear it and receive it and believe it from others and God. I am still working to know how to rest in it.

Love. It drew Jesus to the cross for me. It made Him stay there until it was through when legions of angels were waiting for His call to sweep in and bring Him down from that brutal cross. For my sake, He endured the ultimate agony when taking my sin upon himself, God turned away. He did it for me. Because of that, I can never say that I am "unloved."

I do not profess to understand the book of Revelation. But with my fascination with names, Revelation 2:17 has always caught my imagination. "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it."

A name only between me and God, written on a pure white stone. With as much as I've struggled to understand His love, I might not be surprised to find my own name written there -- "Amy, loved one." I have hope because of His love for me.

The Determined Life

I don’t know what I was thinking except that I needed to do something completely different to get out of the particular hole I was in the summer of 2001. (Unfortunately, having struggled with major depression and posttraumatic stress disorder for 28 years, there have been lots of holes!) I had found in the past that learning a new skill, something in which to invest the intensity of my emotions, often helped. Knowing nothing about horses and having been led around on one only twice in my life, I showed up at the stables in a nearby town and they put me on a horse named Streak. Once upon a time, he had been quite the horse and won awards. Now, he was a dutiful lesson horse and the instructor taught me how to groom him, sit properly (More complicated than you might think!) and walk him in big, lazy circles. At some point as I rhythmically swayed in the saddle, I intrinsically knew that I had found my next new skill to learn. Little did I know that I would learn a lot about life as well!

The next week, I was put on another lesson horse, Eddie. Eddie was the largest horse in the stable and had an insatiable appetite. Hay was kept above our heads at one end of the arena. When Eddie went by, he often had the tenacity to stop, crane his neck up, and have a snack. They called it “Eddie's drive through.” I quickly learned that I had to have Eddie's full attention and a certain amount of momentum when we were near that hay to keep him from stopping! Eddie, however, quickly became my most trusted partner.

By April 2002 I was learning to jump. You start out trotting over poles on the ground and then they get raised. Eventually I jumped 18 inch to 2 foot jumps even in a series of 8-10 jumps. It was so like flying!

I confess that I initially thought jumping was all about the horse and that I was just along for the ride. Nothing could be further from the truth! Just as dogs are pack animals, horses are herd animals. As long as the rider has established herself as the leader, they take their cues from the rider. I was amazed to find out that Eddie could tell where I was looking. Did you catch that? I was on top of him and he could tell where I was looking? It was if sitting a string ran from my backbone to his. When I looked a certain way, that is the way he would go. When I turned my head, my shoulders turned as well. My body position changed and this clued him in.

While Eddie trotted willingly over the poles on the ground, I found that he often came to a dead stop even with poles inches off the ground. Unfortunately, this had hard results for me. At least twice, I went on over the jump without Eddie!

The lesson learned - always look where you are going! When riding to a jump, look up and over it and onto the next one and past that one . . . . When I looked down at the jump, he didn't know where to go. Being rather old and disinclined to work, he was more than happy to stop until I figured it out!

In the animal kingdom, there are a few means of protection. One is camouflage. If a predator can't see you, he can't eat you. Then there is fight. This one is typically the last resort for most animals. And there is flight. Horses are flight animals. They spook easily. In herds, there is always a lookout. They run if frightened.

This also played into the jumping. Eddie could tell if I was nervous or scared. (Remember the string?) My nervousness usually played out all over my body. When we came to a jump and I seemed unsure, Eddie decided (though he had jumped higher millions of times) that he wasn't sure either. So, stopping and looking at the scary jump (that he could merely step over) made more sense than attempting it!

Look where you are going. Ride the next two jumps and not just the one in front of you.

This is biblical as well. I believe it is what Jesus did when He went to the cross. The Bible teaches that Jesus died willingly for us. He chose to do it. But it also tells us that in garden the night He was arrested, He prayed that God would take this cup from Him. He felt enough anxiety about it that his sweat was like blood. Luke 22:44 says, "And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground." (NIV) He was feeling enough anxiety, anguish, that the stress caused the capillaries in his body to begin to break.

So, what kept Him from fleeing when He knew what was coming? Hebrews 12:2 says, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (NIV) What was the joy set before Him? It was a couple of things. First, it was being reunited with His Heavenly Father. Second, it was looking down through time at you and me. We are the joy set before Him.

I confess that I have wasted many of my 39 years looking at life’s jumps. Okay, the truth is, I’ve wasted too much time looking longingly into life’s arena rather than even attempting riding. Once I started riding in the arena of life, I’ve found myself paralyzed by fear and anxiety, unable to step over the smallest hurdle let alone tackle the higher jumps.

I had to learn to ride Eddie with determination and look beyond the jumps. Now, I am learning how to live with determination. I will not be defined by life’s tragedies and circumstances. I will be defined by the One who paid so dearly for me.

How does this play out in day to day life or when I am in a major depressive episode? Several things come to mind.

• Stay close to God through prayer and scripture.


• Keep scripture always in front of you. A friend has been encouraging me for several years to write out scripture on index cards and stash them all over the house, the car, at work, . . . . I’m finally doing it!


• Lean into a community of believers. Riders in shows or on the Olympics always look pristine. However, the truth is that horseback riding is downright dirty! Stables are dirty and dusty and horses sweat! I like to be clean, but I found caring for Eddie was a joy. I liked the intimacy of the moments spent brushing him down. Being in a community of believes means getting down and dirty too! Share your dirt and let someone help brush it away and do it for them!


• Look past the jumps! Maybe it is a struggle with weight, problems with you marriage or a friend or a child, conflict, health issues, things from the past, or depression. It’s hard work, but choose how you think. I literally had to think my way over the jumps while riding. Now, I have to do it in life as well. I struggle so much with negative thoughts that this year I’ve committed to writing weekly on some aspect of hope to combat that negative pull.
  
  Above all else, fix your eyes on Jesus. He is the joy set before us!
  
  *I certify that this is an original work. It is reworked from a blog posted on 1/12/08 on this site. If selected, I give Proverbs 31 permission to use this work.
  

Out of Focus -- Hope Chronicles 10

I have found over the years that learning something new is good for me. In 2001, I took my first horseback riding lesson. I don't know what I was thinking. I believe I had been on a horse twice. Both of those times I was walked around while on the horse. It wasn't really riding. But in July 2001, I showed up at the stables in a nearby town and they put me on a horse named Streak. Apparently, at one point, he had been quite the horse and won all kinds of awards. Now, he was a dutiful lesson horse and the instructor taught me how to walk and sit and groom.

At that point I was hooked. The next time I came, I was put on another lesson horse, Eddie. Eddie was probably the largest horse in the stable. He had an insatiable appetite. At one end of the indoor arena, they kept hay above our heads. When Eddie went by, he often had the tenacity to stop and have a snack. He could reach it if he craned his neck up. They called it Eddie's drive through. I quickly learned that I had to have Eddie's full attention and a certain amount of momentum when we were near that hay to keep him from stopping! Eddie, however, quickly became my favorite. The picture is of me and Eddie. Can you tell how big he is?

By April 2002 I was learning to jump. You start out trotting over poles on the ground and then they get raised. Eventually I jumped 18 inch to 2 foot jumps even in a series of 8-10 jumps. It was so like flying!

I confess that I initially thought jumping was all about the horse and that I was just along for the ride. Nothing could be further from the truth! Just as dogs are pack animals, horses are herd animals. As long as the rider has established herself as the leader, they take their cues from the rider. I was amazed to find out that Eddie could tell where I was looking. Did you catch that? I'm on top of him and he can tell where I am looking? I imagined it as if sitting a string ran from my backbone to his. When I looked a certain way, that is (unless being particularly unruly) the way he would go. When I turned my head, my shoulders turned as well. My body position changed and, my best guess, is that is what clued him in.

Back to jumping. Initially, I did think that I was only along for the ride. While he trotted willingly over the poles on the ground, I found that he often came to a dead stop even with poles 6 inches to a foot off the ground. Unfortunately, this had "hard" results for me. At least twice, I went on over the jump without Eddie!

The lesson learned - always look where you are going. When riding to a jump, look up and over it and onto the next one and past that one . . . . When I looked down at the jump, he didn't nowhere to go. Being rather old and disinclined to work, he was more than happy to stop until I figured it out!

In the animal kingdom, there are a few means of protection. One is camouflage. If a predator can't see you, he can't eat you. Then there is fight. This one is typically the last resort for most animals. And there is flight. Horses are flight animals. They spook easily. In herds, there is always a lookout. They run if frightened.

This also played into the jumping. Eddie could tell if I was nervous or scared. Remember the string? My nervousness usually played out all over my body. When we came to a jump and I seemed unsure, Eddie decided (though he had jumped higher millions of times) that he wasn't sure either. So, stopping and looking at the scary jump (that he could merely step over) made more sense than attempting it!

Look where you are going. Ride the next two jumps and not just the one in front of you.

I think this is biblical as well. I believe it is what Jesus did when He went to the cross. The Bible teaches us that Jesus died willingly for us. He chose to do it. But it also tells us that in garden the night He was arrested, He prayed that God would take this cup from Him. He felt enough anxiety about it that his sweat was like blood. Luke 22:44 says, "And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground." I read once that this means that he was feeling enough anxiety, anguish, that the stress caused the capillaries in his body to begin to break.

So, what kept Him from fleeing when He knew what was coming? Hebrews 12:2 says, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." What is the joy set before Him? I think it is a couple of things. First, it was being reunited with His Heavenly Father. Second, it was looking down through time at me and you. We are the joy set before Him.

This week has been a rough one. I confess that I have been looking at the jumps and not past them. Sigh. There are so many hurdles: things at work, finances, relationships, loneliness . . . . I did okay Monday and Tuesday, but by Wed. I was falling apart. At one point at work, something came up that I had done to the best of my knowledge. (We'll just say, my knowledge wasn't good enough.) I ended up in tears. I've been working on my eating habits. One week of watching it and eating more fruits and vegetables (up to 4 servings in a day), helped me lose 3.5lbs in a week. This week, I did the same and lost less than a pound. I was clearly anticipating another 3.5! Not so. I had a conflict with a friend. My thoughts have turned repeatedly to things I don't have but deeply long for rather than to being thankful for what I do have. Add to that, the woman's monthly cycle. (I confess to as a teen and in my twenties thinking it was all in everyone's head because it didn't bother me. Then I hit 30 and now I'm only a year shy of 40 . . . . Well, it is NOT all in the head! I'm at those couple of days of I-know-it's-coming-just-get-it-over-with!)

So, it has not been a good few days. Perhaps those things would have bothered me some anyway. But, I know that took my eyes off of Jesus. I looked at the jumps instead of at the prize. I looked at the jumps instead of my hope.

But today is a new day. I can regroup. I can refocus. I can fix my eyes on Jesus.

Cats, God's Work, and Pure Hope -- Hope Chronicles 9

I have always thought of myself as a dog person. But a couple of years ago, I had a dog. I absolutely loved her. But after six months, it became clear that it wasn't working out. She - seriously - had anxiety. The vet even put her on anxiety medication! It manifested itself whenever I would leave. She clearly needed to be with someone who was home more.

I was distraught over having to give her up. (I still tear up if I think on it too much, but it part of this tale.) I had gotten her at the Humane Society and had talked to them weekly since getting her. They promised they could find her a home and suggested a cat. Why would I want some aloof cat? They loaned me one (something they don't usually do) for the weekend. Two years later I have two cats that think they are dogs. They literally greet me at the door and follow me from room to room. Even though I have a huge bed, they pretty much sleep next to me or on top of me!

I brought the kitten (right) home the day before Thanksgiving. I thought and thought about what to name her. I came up with Amalia (A-ma-leah) but Mali (Ma -lee) for short. Why the name? I actually knew someone once with the name. I liked it. But more than that, I liked the potential for the meaning. I got on the computer and searched name sites. I put in "hope" and came up with things like Esperanza. I suppose I could have called her Essie for short, but my eyes alighted on the Arabic word "amal" which means, of course, hope.

Since I am focused on hope, why not use it as a name for my kitten as well.

Mali was a stray before she turned up at the Humane Society at 4 months. I got her at 6 months and have had her for a month and a half. While she is very loving, she still acts like a stray when it comes to food. She will hop up on the table (though she isn't allowed) and steal something off your plate. Oh, she is a bit sly about it. She waits for just the right moment. Once she has it, it is hers!

I first witnessed this when I had a pizza crust in the garbage waiting to go out to the garage. I was watching TV. I heard this fierce growl. Mali was crouched with the crust (wider than her head) in her mouth. My other cat, Katy, was nearby. This was the reason for the growl. Since then she has snatched and ran with margarine wrappers, a piece of bread, and a piece of lettuce. While I didn't want her digesting the wrapper, so obviously, I had to get that from her. I also retrieved the bread and lettuce at personal risk (her claws are sharp and her growl is fierce). While these might not have harmed her, I didn't want her thinking that she could do that, reinforcing her by letting her keep her prize.

I had thought that a month or so of consistent feeding would weaken her resolve. Actually, I think it has gotten worse! I have now lost 3 dish rags left on the sink to dry (but obviously smelling of soap and food) to the recesses of the house because she has made off with them. She is now banished to the bathroom (crying piteously) each time I cook or even eat anything.

While I don't approve and would love to break her of it, I must say I admire her tenacity. For someone so little to growl so fiercely at someone so much bigger than her, for her to be so single minded in her pursuit, well there is something to be said for that.

Am I that fierce, that single minded in my pursuit of God and hope? I want to be!

As I have said, I knew a girl once named Amalia. I thought they had told me the name meant hope. But, I couldn't find it on-line or in any of the books I looked at. I had pretty much settled on it and decided that it was a feminized form of the word Amal. One night at the bookstore, I found a Christian naming book. Before shelving it, I looked. It was in there! But instead of just meaning "hope," it meant "a work of God."

And what is hope? It is a work of God in our lives. Without Gods work in our lives, without God, we live and those who have no hope. We can be sure of hope because our hope lies in an unchanging, unfaltering, and utterly dependable God. Did you catch all of that? UNCHANGING. UNFALTERING. UTTERLY DEPENDABLE.

Granted, it is more than we can fathom living in a world of broken people who let us down. But God is not a broken person. Oh, we break his heart sometimes, but it isn't the same thing. Even though we are faithless, he remains faithful. Once He has us, he holds us close.

J.I. Packer is a modern day theologian. In his book, KNOWING GOD, he writes:

"What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it -- the fact that HE KNOWS ME. I am graven on the palms of His hands. I am never out of His mind . . . . He knows me as a friend, one who loves me, and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when His care falters. . . . There is a tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on a prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me."

Read that a couple of times. We are graven on the palms of His hands, never out of his mind. He is never distracted by a cell phone or someone pulling out in traffic. He doesn't waffle if He finds out something new about us because He already knows all there is about us. We can never disillusion Him. He knows the worst about me and loves me -- enough to go to the cross for me. That is essence of pure hope -- resting in God's love for me.

What does it look like to fully rest in that?

What does it look to fiercely follow after God?

What does it look like to seek him with a single minded focus?

I'm not sure. What it looks like in my life may be different than what it looks like in my life, but I would love to know what it looks like for you!

I am just beginning to figure out what it means for me. I think some of what it means for me is:

• being faithful to read and study His word


• keeping scripture in front of me


• being aware of my tendency to always, first and foremost, wonder how something will impact me rather than those around me


• choosing to serve


• focusing on hope

And more, but I am still figuring it out.

At some point in our lives we realize we are helpless to save ourselves -- that no amount of work on our part, no amount of trying, no amount of effort, no amount of anything will save us. It's typically a humbling and a bit of a scary place to be. But God steps in and says, "I will make a way for you." He offers us hope through the blood of Jesus shed on the cross. He says we can come no matter what state our lives are in. He holds out his hands . . . and dies so that we won't have to be separated from Him forever. The Cross is the purest picture of hope there is.

On a side note, my other cat's name is Katy. It comes from Katherine meaning pure. So, without realizing it I have ended up with a daily reminder of "pure hope" in Katy (pure) and Amalia (hope). That just came to mind last night!

What Are You Passing On? - Hope Chronicles 8

Why didn't anyone tell me it was a theme week? You guys are suppose to let me in on those things!

Do you remember those days in elementary school or at day camp that were theme days? There was "Backwards Day" or "Hat Day" or "Pajama Day" or whatever. The great dilemma was if you should participate or not. If you came wearing everything backwards and no one else did . . . . Or if you were the only person not to wear a hat . . . .

This week has felt like a theme week. Actually, it's just been the last few days, but it doesn't bode well for the New Year. It has been "How rude can you be?" week. People have been down right mean with no real reason.

Wed. night I worked at the bookstore. There is an educator discount that has to be used for classroom items. A faculty member came up and wanted to use his discount for the paper he was buying. He showed me the card. I read the back and pointed out that it wasn't applicable for the newspaper. He told me that I was "most certainly wrong" and raised his voice and leaned forward. When I tried to show him what it said on the card, he just got more incensed. It was a 20% discount on a $1.50 paper. We are talking pennies not major dollars. His demeanor so alarmed another cashier that she fetched the management.

Thursday I was walking to my car after work. I was crossing with the walk signal. A guy was driving buy and yelled, "Don't jay walk you @!*% #*@!!!" I had the signal. I wasn't even crossing his lane of traffic. I hadn't stepped out in front of him or anything of that nature. I don't have a clue as to what provoked him. Oh, yeah -- it was like 24 degrees out. What possesses someone to roll down their window in that kind of weather and yell obscenities?

Today was my super long day at my data entry job. I go in at 6:30 and leave at 4:30 with a half hour lunch. At 4:20 I answered the phone. The woman said, "You're probably getting ready to close up for the day." I said that we were closing at 4:30, but could I help her? She asked for some information. I told her I couldn't give that to her over the phone but offered to transfer her to an office that could help her. She declined and switched topic to asking about who owned her land in 1911. I explained that the computer system only went back about 30 years and that would involve a search of the books. I also explained that I really needed the parcel number. She pressed. I told her I would like to help her but that there wasn't quick access to that information. I also explained that I am relatively new and hadn't been trained on a book search so I would have to get someone else's assistance. Her response, "Well, that much is obvious!" Major break in the conversation. I think I was stunned into silence. She finally said, "I was just kidding!" I replied, "I'm not at all sure how to respond to your comment." She again insisted she was "kidding." I eventually managed to transfer her to a supervisor.

So, it feels like it has been "How rude can you be?" week. I haven't intentionally participated but have definitely been impacted and it has not been fun!

If nothing else, it has gotten me thinking. I don't know if these people 1) have never been taught manners, 2) were having horrendous days, or 3) have no clue about about social discourse and being polite. Whatever the reason, I think they were passing on despair. I know I could feel the impact.

What do you pass on to others? It can be intentional or not. Sometimes, it can be a kind word or a smile. Maybe it is telling the management at your favorite grocery store when someone was particularly helpful. Maybe it is going out of your way for someone.

New Year's in central Illinois was greeted with snow. I love how it looks, but I abhor the shoveling chore that comes with it. It actually turns me a bit melancholy. I admit that my thought as I set out to shovel on Tuesday was, "Why did this happen to me?" Of course, I am the queen of taking things personally and weather is so personal. Not! And it turned to a long whine of, "Why does everything come down to me?" This is true since I am single. If the vacuum gets run, I have to run it. If the litter box gets changed, it's because I changed it. If the bills get paid, I paid them. But there is a difference in excepting reality and wallowing in self-pity. Yes, I ventured into the realm of self-pity.

God brought to mind the message from this past Sunday. My pastor and friend, Mark Savage, mentioned doing acts of service. One of the examples, he used was shoveling snow. Being in self-centered mode I thought, "I wish someone had surprised me by shoveling my drive!" God tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear, "This is not about you."

















So, I shoveled my neighbors drive and sidewalk and path on the deck and put down salt. Before you shout, "Good job!" please note that I was deeply tempted to quit half way through. It was sheer willpower and the deep knowledge that it would look even worse to have just done half of it than to have done none of it that kept me at it.

And, I was determined to be obedient.

Like me, my neighbor is single. So, everything falls to her as well. My intent, besides obedience, was to pass on a bit of hope. I don't know that she was even home and I haven't seen her and there is no way she would know for sure that it was me. But I do hope that it brightened her day and made her feel cared for.

What do you pass on intentionally or unintentionally? Do you come ushering in a wave of despair that swallows others up in it's wake or do you buoy people towards heaven on the springboard of hope? Check yourself periodically. Make big and little intentional choices to pass on hope!

Side note: While I do have to do most things myself, God blessed me tonight with a couple of helpers. Kolya (13) and Austin's (11) parents were having dinner with friends, so the boys spent the evening here. While I cleaned up from dinner, they took down the Christmas tree (another task I hate). It was down in record time and everything stowed in the basement. We were then free to enjoy an evening of games and playing with the cats. After a difficult few days, they were bearers of hope and peace to me.

The Future Is Nothing To Fear -- Hope Chronicles 7

I struggle with depression. I can honestly say that I think the depression started when I was 10. That is, at least in my recollection, the first time I wished that I was dead. I've struggled with it off and on now for 28 years. Sometimes I get a break for a a few months, but it has been more on than off. A couple years ago, I got about an 18 month break in the depression. It all flew out the window when a friend of mine died this spring. I completely crumbled.

I'm probably an unusual depressed person. I'm fairly functional. I manage to hold a job and all of that but fall apart all around the edges. After struggling with it for so long, I know the symptoms and what to do. I keep busy, see the doctor and therapist regularly, take the meds, watch my thoughts, work hard at connecting with people even when I don't feel like it, . . . .

I know there was a precipitating factor, but having the depression hit so hard the last few months has been really difficult. I struggled with what the point was in keeping going because statistically every time I have a depressive episode I am more likely to have another. Why not give up?

Because there are points when I feel better.

Because there are people who care.

Because God wants me to keep going.

Because of things like faith and hope and love.

I am doing better. The last 2 weeks have been a major turn around. (That is good news!) I saw my doctor yesterday. She was totally thrilled. But then in the midst of it she said, "While you are doing well, we need to strategize the best way to handle the next one." I understand what she is saying, though I would love it if God made it so the depression never came back.

As I contemplated the discussion yesterday and today, I've felt fear creep in. Fear is a thief. It steals joy and peace and takes my eyes off of God. I came across this quote from Max Lucado in GOD CAME NEAR today and it spoke to me:

Such moments are necessary because they remind us that everything is okay. The king is still on the throne and life is still worth living. Eternal instants remind us that love is still the greatest posessession and the future is nothing to fear.

Do you know what he is talking about? Have you ever had an "eternal instant"? It's those moments when life just feels so right. Maybe it is when your child hugs you or you see a sun set. I know I've had them over the years. One of the most recent was when I had a friend's children spend the night with me. I was putting them to bed and Elena asked, "Do you have a Bible?" They wanted to hear a Bible story. I explained that I had a Bible but I didn't have one for children. They made sure that I knew that their parents read to them out of the "regular" Bible. So, I read to them about David and Goliath from my regular NIV. I was so touched to see their tender hearts towards scripture. There have been eternal instants: baking with a friend, sitting on a porch, cuddling with my cat. Eternal instants are ones that push back the darkness and fear. What was your most recent "eternal instant?"

As Max Lucado writes, the King is still on the throne. Life is worth living. In spite of what the world and our circumstances might say, the future is nothing to fear.

Because it seemed fitting in starting off the New Year, I've reprinted this from my xanga blog dated Sept. 1, 2007 -- www.xanga.com/BabblingBrooke135