Dollhouse on a Prairie

A status I posted on Facebook yesterday after watching the documentary, TINY: When did I get the notion that accumulation meant success? Life isn’t about stuff, it’s about memories and relationships. Perhaps the very thing I need to rebut the cracked, dry, and empty “success” dream that has been propagated by our culture, and refrain from consumerism, is a tiny house.


My father has told me that my current space is too small for mine and Frank’s needs. Frank and I are a couple. Do we really need anything bigger than a one bedroom apartment? A two bedroom apartment would strap us financially. I’ve considered moving to a studio to save even more. Downsizing would jolt my father and have him shaking his head in disbelief. Perhaps downsizing is what Frank and I need to remove ourselves from this imagined impression of prosperity. I need to get over this approval addiction and live in freedom.

Our apartment looks cluttered because we’ve accumulated junk. Somewhere along the path of life we bought into the American misconception that materialism demonstrated richness. A rich life is not investing in rusted, dust covered stuffed shelves. Richness comes from an investment in community, in sustainable living.

You can’t sustain the economic output of a mansion. Mansions are deceiving. Their grandeur masks the emptiness in the lives of those trying to maintain its upkeep. Rooms can be stuffed with furniture and gadgets, but what is stuffing the souls of the consumer?

I want my soul to be stuffed with an eternal mindset. I don’t want a life puffed up with moth eaten goods. I want significant community.

I didn’t know what I had in my tiny apartment. When I first moved out of my parents, I lived in a 238 square foot space. There were plumbing issues and poor design that probably contributed to my detest of that living arrangement. The mold splattered walls also made me sick. However, I had freedom in my life. (Though I didn’t realize it then.) I had less space to clean and more money to give. This shelter wasn’t the best, but it freed me to devote energy to things of greater importance—Jesus Christ, family, and friends.

“ It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (Mk. 10:25)

Money is a tool. It is not evil. However, the American dream is a nightmare. It has turned money into a vessel through which useless goods have poured into our lives. Americans are busy. We are noisy. We are so distracted that we can’t sit and listen long enough to hear the still small voice. Our culture has made us blind and deaf to God’s presence in our lives. Then we blame him for not working. He is talking, if only we’d stay and tune in.

Materialism numbs our souls. Americans are afraid of vulnerability. When we open ourselves to community, we open ourselves to responsibility. As we invest in humanity and lose our grasp on stuff, we’d see the barrenness of hoarding and how materialism has made us severely bereft.

This 9-5 job, spacious apartment, and green packed wallet has sent me yearning. Could it be that I haven’t learned contentment here because I’m already packed; packed with suitcases of American prosperity, not God’s? Contentment isn’t found in trotting the globe, updated fashion, or ritzy homes but in relationships- relationships with Christ, family, and friends.

This little house idea might just be the ideal construction. It could clear my life of clutter, making space to see God’s hand moving and hear his voice speaking. Yeah, I’ve never felt at home here on earth and I’m not really supposed to. Though maybe this little house could bring me as close to home that I’m going to get this side of heaven.

Check out my current personal favorite:

The Bomb

I dropped it.  F.

I could hear the snap of the injector port coming off the chamber.  Fragmented pieces littered my palms and the freshly waxed floor.  Then a clink and the torch was obliterated too.  The shards just kept coming.  Earlier in the morning I had words like sharp stones etch my ego.  The conference call left with client’s questioning my skill.  After a day like today the steam just left my lips.  I never meant for the boil to get so hot.  I just dislike feeling inadequate. 

This shaking sense of feeling inept keeps growing.  I seem to repeatedly prepare solutions incorrectly and find poor recoveries.  Then outside of work, in my day-to-day life, my body can’t seem to find a way to perform basic biology.  Others can do so without even a blink.  You see, for years my body has been resistant to impregnation.  (It wasn’t for a lack of trying, let me tell you…okay well no details, but yeah the effort was definitely there.)

It’s times when you feel like a failure that you have to remember who you are in Christ.  I keep trying to remind myself of this fact.  Christ equips.  (2Cor.3:6) My duty is not in the things of this world necessarily, but more importantly in spreading the good news.  Sharing the gospel must always be my goal and if I share in planting the seeds than I am a success.

The world, even the church body, can put expectations on success, but God looks at the heart.  He cares about our motivations.  When you feel like you can’t perform the most basic things of life remember that there is an eternity.  He defines who we are and the proper goals, not a lack of broken instrumentation or faulty plumbing, are what bring him joy.  He’s using it all for his glory.  We just have to remember that.  We have to refrain from impulse and crass words.  I only say it when frustrated.  That’s not an excuse though.  In all things pray and his peace will transcend.  Pray before the battle of failed projects and passionate encounters. 

May my words always bring him glory.  Yet I’m grateful that he condemns less than our brethren for the occasional use of foul words.  I repent and receive his mercies.  Tomorrow is another day with a fresh anointing of mercy.  He’s given me so much today and I’m eternally grateful. 

The Appearance of Self

There sat a lot overgrown with weeds. Within the brush were rusted homes on cinder blocks.  Broken windows were patched together with duct tape.  A smell of cat pee permeated the air and assaulted noses of intruders. A resounding gun shot punctured the air.  A few streets down a broken pickup truck splattered glass as the bullet burst into the windshield.  No one was killed.  It was an abandoned truck and country kids were simply practicing for the upcoming deer season.  In a town like this, that’s what teenagers without a dime do to pass the time.  That, or chase a sparkling dream too vast and complicated for them to understand.

Forks, WA.

I’ve been thinking about our trip this past February out to Seattle.  While visiting Washington, we drove to the Hoh Rainforest and happened upon the novel inspiration that was Forks.  There were no fanged beasts, except the one devouring any resemblance of stability and financial security.  It was a town in the middle of nowhere.  Here were folks removed from the bustle of Seattle.  Their homes were dilapidated and caving.  

Seattle was, on the other hand, shiny.  Steel buildings climbed into the heavens.  Individuals were sipping mochaccinos at Starbucks, a franchise monopolizing every corner.  In front of them would be a keyboard or phone.  A friend might be sitting right across but with their handheld device in tow as well.  

Forks appeared broken, decayed.  Seattle seemed fresh, new.  

We can be broken but plastered in casts of smiles.  We can be bruised but persevering in joy.  Our circumstances don’t determine our countenance.  People can project their perceptions all they want.  God looks at the motivations of the heart.  God sees our sorrows and thrills.  He can see the hidden emotions and the ones broadcasted on sleeves.  Yet through it all, let us open ourselves to his grace and his mercy.  So as we open up to vulnerability we will grow in honest expression and in Christ-like appearance.  


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The Pursuit of Happyness

Last night we went to see Chef, a reel performance which details a chef engrossed in work with the rest of his life frayed.  After a confrontation with a food blogger, he is offered assistance by his ex-wife and starts a food truck.  It is about a man who regains the proper perspective in life after starting his own business.  He is restored. 

Sometimes I think that I’ll get restored in a new location or new career.  I’m far more artsy than other lab personnel.  I’m also extremely social.  Most bench chemists would be squints, fearing exposure to sunlight over fluorescent lighting. Other scientists dislike consistent social interaction.  I’m definitely an extrovert; I thrive when speaking with others.  It often feels soul crushing to be working in a field that isn’t suited to my personality but pays our bills. 

I’ve asked myself if I don’t trust God financially.  Is money an idol?  Is the constant desire to be praised by my parents attributing to my employment in the scientific field?  Should I be reckless and travel while writing, working odd jobs here and there to put enough food in my belly and gas in the car?  My parents have stated this would be irresponsible.  We don’t have kids yet, isn’t this the time to throw caution to the wind and experience different cultures and meet new people?  Frank would not allow it.  He’s far too responsible for that.   Perhaps it’s that Frank’s soul is quieted by the calming presence of the Holy Spirit and I’m to busy wrestling God.  I see what I want, what I think should be and spend countless hours debating God when I know his plan is better.  I’m too focused on my desire to travel because my restless soul can’t seem to be stilled to experience the wonder and awe God has awaiting me here.  Christ is teaching me the annoying, but oh so wonderful, characteristic of contentment. 

He doesn’t care where I am.  He’s put me in Jersey.  While I’m here he wants me to do one thing, share the gospel.  I don’t need to be a missionary in the African bush to do that.  He can and does use me here.  It’s when we are uncomfortable and unsure that he can shine through.  I am called to preach the good news wherever I am, especially if it’s in a place where I feel out of tune with the culture. God hasn’t left America, he’s present if I’m willing to seek hard enough. 

The reality is that I won’t ever be satisfied anywhere unless I’m satisfied in him.  How do we get satisfied in him?  We communicate with him through his word and prayer.  We share his love.  We count blessings to remind our wandering hearts of his faithfulness.  We make the most of every opportunity to glorify Christ. Satisfaction comes in wanting Christ here and now.

The pursuit of happiness is not chasing happiness at all.  It’s dying to self, gazing at the cross and the empty tomb, and choosing joy (the peace of Christ) in all circumstances.  We have an everlasting hope independent of happy circumstances.  We can be suffering, but know that Christ is with us through it all.  We can grieve, but we do so differently.  We can think our selves misfit to do a job seemingly contradictory to our skill set, but Christ equips us for his purposes.  It is when we are weak that he is strong.  My inadequacy as a chemist allows Christ to shine through when I submit my work load to him.  I can share the gospel anywhere, not just writ in calligraphy sprawling on white canvases. 

It is when I pursue Christ alone with all my fervor that I might just learn what it means to be content.  When I pursue Christ, a new dwelling, job, or activity won’t become substitutes into an imagined, momentary pleasure perceived as satisfaction.  I’ll be content when I am content with the majesty of God rather than the box I seem to frequently place him in. 

A three for one

He said no to a desire of our hearts for the moment.

However, other prayers that Frank and I have been engaging for years have a glimmer of fruition. Those possible prayer answers would be incredibly sweet. We can see him lifting the veil already. He’s revealing himself.

Today was a good day of remembering his faithfulness. There are three prayer requests, unrelated to pregnancy, currently being answered. It helps to remind me that God is a God of hope. Prayer does work, for greater purposes than my happiness.

I praise God for the ability to a sliver of these treasured utterances delivered.

We serve an eternal God who hears our cries. He is faithful and working things for his glory in his timing. I thank Him for letting me see these answered terms, or these works in progress though.

I wanted to pass from earth immediately and be with Christ after the miscarriage. That would have been easier than carrying this burden and sorrow. Being with Christ is better than earthly passage, but seeing the sprouts of deliverance in others we’ve prayed so long for helps set our hearts ablaze.

So may I, like Paul, live life with a proper death theology and be submitted always to Christ. He is faithful. I thank him for the opportunity to see these other prayers answered. I know he has been with us through it all and he’ll continue to do so.

Though my heart grieves, it rejoices. A Christian has the promise of Christ and the assurance of heaven. God is always faithful for his glory. Thank you Jesus for reminding me of that when my foot was slipping.

It’s about perseverance. I’m grateful he is answering these other requests. He didn’t have to, but he’s answering three when I was growing feeble. His timing is perfect.

His presence never left me and won’t because Christ died and rose for me, for us. He died one for all that we could have fellowship with the Godhead three in one- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He is working in these three requests mentioned. His timing for answers to these other petitions could not have been answered at a more opportune time to renew a steadfast spirit. Today is a Sabbath holy unto God and I will rest in him as I’m reminded of his presence.

Praise be to God.

Fly on Wings like Eagles

It’s all about perspective.  I like what pastor said the other day.  Problems and pains are possibilities if you reorient your focus.  Don’t zoom in on the trial or tribulation, rather think of how he’ll use this in a testimony.  This does not mean we can’t grieve or be emotionally raw.  Life sometimes sucks.  Yet we know that God will deliver us.  He’ll either free us from the struggle and use it for kingdom growth or he will welcome us home.  

Teddy Graham didn’t have to endure the heartache of separation.  We do, in more ways than one.  Yet Christ is our cornerstone.  If he is our foundation, we can sit on the roof and gaze at life from a lofty height.  If the house is built on faulty lines the roof crumbles or caves in and you are left in the pit of despair, seeing the gravity of your woe.  Christ lets me hurt and vent my frustrations, he’s able to empathize.  So though I am numb now, I will keep pressing into his word and communicate with him in prayer.  I’ll train my heart and tongue to align with what I know to be true.  Christ will reignite these ashes and from them beauty will arise.  

In Memory of Teddy Graham, Frank and I constructed a kite and had our first date of Summer 2014, our first one-on-one date in a while actually.  We need a retreat to regroup, but since our summer is so busy it doesn’t look like we’ll really be able to have a weekend getaway.  It was nice to get a date day with hubby at leastImageImageImage

(Professor and Skipper are our fish.  (If you were wondering why it said that on the kite.)  We treasure them dearly and right now they are our children.  Our mother’s are allergic to cats and we can’t have dogs in the apartment so fish make great pets, and children for the time being.) Frank calls me teddy bear and I call him turtle and that’s why those images are on the kite as well.

Also, we didn’t have much wind so actually flying the kite was a bit of a flop, but it was fun nonetheless.  

We’ll continue to run the race he’s marked out for us, even if it means losing a child.  His promises make us soar on wings like eagles.  His word is a lamp unto our feet and with him we walk, remaining steady even though this grief sometimes makes us want to faint.

Another completely different note:  Did anyone notice that yesterday’s post used language akin to someone who had cystic fibrosis? I don’t have it, but am a carrier.  Frank said he didn’t realize that.  I just wanted to see if anyone else grasped that.  If not, maybe I didn’t use proper terminology, but that was my aim.  

Gasping for air

I had an appointment with my fertility specialist.  She reminded me of some previous tests.

Cystic fibrosis and a rare disease, I can’t recall the name currently.  

Thankfully Frank and I don’t share the same recessive traits, at least for the sequences tested.  These are the countless screenings you endure while being poked and prodded, filling syringes to find out why a womb remains empty.  Even if you never wanted to know, it’s part of the procedure.  You will learn about the dormant genes that threaten to take the life you are trying so hard to create.  

Then again, we have a God who performs miracles.  Science can say what it wants, the supernatural still defies it.  Medicine said the chances were slim for conception, that our best bet for offspring would be an IVF.

The risk of IVF is that if it doesn’t keep then you are out 10-20k, possibly more.  Most have an oops night and nine months later their trying to contain the shock.  Those with the faulty plumbing invest in their kids even before there is a child to go to college.  The barren ones help pay the bills for the reckless, those of the broken barrier trial, and the planned zygote while they grieve, bearing the heavy weight of a formless babe.  

We had the answered prayer…and then it was lost.   We got the wind knocked out of us.  

Now we sit here trying to pick up the pieces of shattered hearts.  We clutch our chests as our lungs fill with over-bearing grief.  Another prayer is uttered, a plea not to choke.  There is begging in our whispers, a cry that we’d continue to function.  

He’s transplanting fear with trust, weaning fleshly desire to the nourishment of a gospel filled nation.  He’s the physician giving us oxygen.  May we use this breath to spread his gospel rather than heaving sighs, breaking body and bank.  

Wrestling: A Turtle’s Marathon to Achieve His Will

So I’ve often wondered if my drive to experience new adventures and meet strangers in various cultures is really a lack of contentment.  I’m not supposed to be complacent.  Why then does it feel that if we wrestle with where God has us that we are immediately labeled as discontent?  Is it the word wrestle?  It is in sorrow and contemplation that our faith stretches, matures, and overflows to impact those we encounter. 

Frank does well with being at home, even living in the same place for years.  I’m not that way.  Perhaps it was the constant moving around as a child, but I thrive off change.  Although, could my desire to move around be a fear of vulnerability and opening up to people?  I don’t know.  I tend to doubt that. I’m usually pretty open about struggles in my life.  Sometimes I might even be too open.  I mean I’m writing a public blog about my miscarriage and the array of feelings I’m experiencing.  Is that even wise?  Then again, our testimony is meant to be shared right? 

I just have never really felt at home in New Jersey.  My roots are heaven bound, of course, and so any place on earth will never truly be home.  However, there are states that I’ve felt more comfortable in.  The South moves at a snail’s pace but their hospitality resonates with me.  An individual is also able to sustain living down there.  New Jersey is so overpriced.  I’m a debt free chemist and so I make decent money.  I definitely have my daily bread.  Yet taxes are a rent payment alone.  How can I afford to pursue a dream of being a mother in the home here?  Then again, is that what God has intended for me?  Is it a lack of trusting his provision and his will?  Oh the questions that plague humanity.  We say that if we had certainty of the future we’d be less worried.  I think there is uncertainty to maintain the mystery of God, the awestruck wonder of his timeliness. 

Jacob was challenged with uncertainty too.  Jacob deceived his father, Isaac, into thinking he, Jacob, was Esau, Jacob’s older brother, to obtain the birthright. He didn’t trust God’s provision in that moment. He would move as God commanded but kept trying to take the reins of outcome. It wasn’t until Jacob wrestled with God, God changed his name to Israel, and Israel limped the rest of his days that he fathered twelve tribes. In limping he fulfilled God’s will.

What would my limping look like? Does it mean staying in New Jersey? If so, does that mean I need to be complacent to be content. They seem contradictory. Settling into a routine feels like complacency to me. Perhaps complacency is not taking advantage of opportunities to share the gospel because we are comfortable in ourselves more than it is keeping to a schedule. Maybe the mere fact that Jersey makes me uncomfortable is why he’s kept me here.

I guess that while I’m here I might as well enjoy the ride. I need to be intentional about contentment. How might we attain such intentionality?

1)      Prayer and daily fellowship with Christ through his Word, sometimes just letting the Holy Spirit groan when we can’t muster energy to cohesively utter the feelings in our souls

2)      Gather with friends and family over hearty meals; Community

3)      Become a tourist in your town and see what sites the town has to offer. (For NJ residents, here is a web address with attraction ideas: )

4)      In everything, practice eucharisteo—thanking God you even drew a breath and noticing beauty in the mundane. (Read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp; If you are like Frank and her writing seems geared toward an audience with a poetic heart, have your friend or spouse Spark Notes the book’s plot. However, be sure to begin your own list of gratitude.)

The Appearance of Christ

I’ve been reading 2Corinthians lately.  I read through Galatians and Colossians before that.  The common theme has been to not accept false doctrine.  While that has been the main emphasis in these epistles, what struck me most in the past few weeks has been Christ’s character.  He is my comforter so that I can comfort others.  Our sufferings are meant to further the gospel.  So I guess in a way the comforting character of Christ should cause me to discern truth and boldly share the Christ-centered gospel as Paul insisted.  Thus by growing closer to Christ and letting his character shape my understanding of God, it should also cause me to assess doctrines currently being preached.

This morning I began to discuss the book Heaven is for Real with a friend.  I haven’t read the book and in order to accurately accept or reject it’s claims I need to digest its contents.  Many Christians might be hesitant about reading it for fear that they’d become “of the world”.  However, I tend to take the position that unless I read opposing views and research beliefs or doctrines contrary to my worldview, or Scriptural contents for that matter, my arguments do not have a firm foundation.  If we speak claiming we know something but haven’t researched to understand other theories, we will be made to look like fools.  I think this is why we are charged to test all things and accept what is good (1Thess. 5:21).  How do we test all things, as commanded, if we don’t test our faith too?  Count the cost of being a disciple. (Luke 14:25-35).  It’s not something to be taken lightly.  So while I should address this topic in greater detail after I’ve fully tested this boy’s claims, I’ll try to speak from what I do know of his assertions and then reflect on what Scripture says about this boy’s revelations.  

As far as I gathered from the synopsis of the story, Colton Burpo became ill around 5 years after his appendix burst.  While in surgery, he said he visited heaven and could see his parents praying in another room.  During his heavenly experience, he met his miscarried sister and great-grandfather.  Colton even sat in Jesus’ lap.  He then returned to his body and has written his novel telling people about his trip to heaven and back, recalling details about his deceased relations and how Jesus looked and acted.     

My focus today will be about Christ’s looks.  Scripture is actually quite vague about Christ’s physique.  There is a verse, Isaiah 53:2, that briefly mentions a prophecy regarding the Savior’s features.  It states that there was no beauty that would attract us to him.  Jesus was an average dude, at least in his physical features.  He could perform miracles but his physical appearance was common.  He was a carpenter’s son and would have been involved in the trade so he had muscles (I should know because my husband is a carpenter and he’s….alright I’ll leave this PG since I am discussing Christ’s looks and all), but his facial features were probably pretty plain. 

Here is an interesting expose about Christ’s nationality and appearance:  It is an opinion article.  Since the Bible doesn’t really touch on outward appearance and focuses more on the heart’s motivations, most theories about Jesus’ physical appearance are going to be opinion articles.  We do know Jesus was a Jew.  It is likely he had dark hair, tanned skin (he was a carpenter and would have worked outside in the Middle Eastern heat), and dark eyes.  We can’t be certain of this since ancient records and Scripture don’t really touch on Christ’s facial features.  I recommend reading Josephus’ historical records to get a non-Scripture based account of those times.  Even Josephus’ writings don’t contain imagery of Jesus’ face colors. 

Yet, Colton isn’t arguing about Jesus’ physical appearance during Christ’s time on earth.  Colton saw Jesus in heaven.  The question then is not what Jesus looked like on earth, but what his stature and facial attributes would have been in heaven.  Although highly allegorical and fantasy-like, the books of Revelation and Daniel give us a brief understanding of the divine Jesus, the Christ seated at the right hand of God interceding on our behalf.  Let us then review Revelation and Daniel to find the key to the heavenly Jesus and his physique. 

“His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire;”- Rev. 1:14 (KJV)

“As I looked, “thrones were set in place, and the Ancient of Days took his seat. His clothing was as white as snow; the hair of his head was white like wool. His throne was flaming with fire, and its wheels were all ablaze.”- Dan.7:9 (NIV)

From these accounts, we see that Jesus would have had piercing eyes.  He was pure, refined by his fire.  This was quite a sight.  It was so powerful that when John saw Christ, he fell at Jesus’ feet as though a dead man (Rev.1:17a).  The heavenly Jesus is not some familiar comrade but is rather a majestic being that invokes a fear akin to reverence. 

Colton said Jesus had blue eyes and that he sat in the Messiah’s lap.  An apostle who walked with Jesus didn’t even sit in his lap.  We might like the idea of children flocking to sit on Jesus’ lap in his throne.  However, I think we should be cautious about such a vision.  Even Moses was hidden in the cleft of a rock before God passed by and Moses only saw God’s back because his face was too wonderful.  (Chesterton writes a fictional story about seeing the face of God in the novel “The Man Who Was Thursday” and is a great read.)  Those closest to God, as recorded in the Bible, fell prostrate before the divine Author.  While an image of a child sitting in God’s lap might bring a smile to American faces, we would do well to exercise hesitancy before accepting this little boy’s notions.  Children might have sat in Jesus’ lap while he was God incarnate, but all the individuals who encountered Christ in his heavenly form before Colton had a reverence for Christ and would frequently bow their faces because God’s majesty was too great to gaze upon. 

Thus, as I said before, since I haven’t read Colton’s book I am at a disadvantage in completely dismissing his claims.  I will be able to accurately accept or reject Colton’s thoughts by comparing them with the authenticity of Scripture once I have read Colton’s accounts.  However, judging from the synopsis I read about his encounter with the divine and reading the biblical character’s encounter with God, I’d say we should review Colton’s experience with grave discernment .  I am not saying we should dismiss this boy’s experience as false gospel, but we should assess his claims with due caution. 

Christ can be my comforter and empathizer, but he is also my judge and creator.  He is awesome.  May I, and hopefully others, not confine God to what soothes our souls, but rather reflect on the grandiose measure of his character and appearance.





As I said yesterday, there is a problem with our internet connection.  Our motem seems to be down and as such, we’ve been unable to use our computer to surf the web.  I’ve been using my work computer to post in my free time.  It’s actually been a reprieve from the countless stories on Facebook of adorable kids. You know- the typical hashing of how silly they are and less of the explanatory details of tantrums, potty training, and sleepless nights due to teething or vomit.  I feel bad getting that pit in my stomach as parents proudly display their protegees.  I should celebrate with them. 

I’m not there yet though.  My face was etched with salty streams when I drove by Babies R’Us on my way home from WalMart.  Clearly, I’m still not ready to applaud the newest life achievement of a womb product I can’t call my own. Instead, I notice myself heaving as I peer into the green monster’s reflection.  Rather than find another addiction, I should get my face in the Book and memorize the great physician’s notes.  If not, I run the risk of slicing, dicing, and compartmentalizing my soul into a salad buffet for that prowling herbivore beast (I’m sure at least one exists, at least spiritually) and being devoured with gnashing teeth of envy. 

Our provider is due to replace the motem today.  I pray I won’t fall prey to the idleness of endless perusing again.  Also, with our busy week it’s unlikely I’ll have much time for hours on social networking, unless I excuse myself to finagle Frank’s phone. I should refrain from that thievery endeavor anyways. It only results in an irate husband and then we’d both be sinning.  I am to be his helpmate, not enticing him to relish in the sinful sulking too.  So please pray with me that we’d guard our hearts for they are the well spring of life. 

May we fill ourselves with Christ-likeness instead of errand’s busyness or the pursuit of vicariously living another person’s adventure.  We have our story and we should not attempt to escape it. Let us graft ourselves with Christ and share the gospel’s good news. In doing so, other folks will become a thread in God’s web, not one consisting of the worldwide fleshly gain.

Plural pronouns (i.e. us, we, our = Frank and myself)