A couple more shots…. (the picture kind, not the coffee kind.)

These aren’t artsy—they’re simply a depiction of the weekend. The fabulous weekend. And none of them are edited, for which I apologize.

 

It’s abominable, really. I have been shockingly remiss in posting on my poor neglected blog. The thing is, while normally a lack of creativity doesn’t stop me from posting, recently it’s been quite a major deterrent. On occasion, not only is there an atrocious lack of brain power, there’s also a feeling of “empty". I think, “What can I possibly say that would be interesting?”, then I realize that the absence of interesting material has never previously stopped me from throwing things on to my blog without concern for reader or computer. Ergo my current attempt.
If you were one of the people praying for me to get a piano student, thank you. It appears that I will be starting a girl in our church soon. I’m ridiculously excited, to say the least. Now, however, I find myself assailed with doubts and fears. After all, what if I’m not a good teacher? Not everyone has the knack for it, and I can’t say that I envy the poor little children whose lives I could potentially destroy…. Anyhow, I’m happy for the opportunity.
This weekend was quite busy. We catered on Thursday night, then went to the Covenant Christmas Concert. Always nice to hang out with friends. :) After that my mother’s renowned hospitality was extended once again, this time as hostess to a shower welcoming Kari’s sweet baby boy. I still say that my sister being his Godmother makes him my Godnephew, despite assertions to the contrary. Anyway, it was good to meet Caleb Christopher, yet another example of God’s miraculous work in lives around us. It was thrilling to watch the chain of events with the adoption unfold through the last few months. The close of the shower led to throngs of relatives joining the house. Well, ok, perhaps not throngs… just three. Uncle Rich, Aunt Di, and Bekah. And of course four Finks were at our house this weekend as well. Made for a lovely loud time, especially when joined by David and Steffany and their semi-new bundle of joy. Sunday afternoon was a conglomeration of wonderful things. More family (i.e. grandma, grandfather, aunt shell, whitney, dustin, jonathan), friends (i.e. jacob) (although the separation of the two categories is not to imply a mutual exclusivity. I firmly believe that though you can’t choose your family, they often end up in the friend category too), three giant pots of soup, two bundt cakes (one of which is currently screaming my name) and obviously plenty of tea.
Alright. I admit it. While I am not exactly an introvert, I still find myself rather taken aback when total strangers approach and eke out all kinds of information. Such was the case this Sunday, in the midst of our third starbucks trip of the weekend. A [very] friendly man struck up a conversation with some of us, which ended up lasting quite some time. Though not directly involved with this dialogue, I would’ve been failing in my multitasking skills to not listen to nearly every word. While highly respectful of the propensity of coffeeshops to, as it were, “bring people together,” I will admit that multiple times I wanted to lean over to Clark and whisper obscure things like “Don’t tell him anything! He’s probably a foreign spy.” “Look, now he knows where we live and where you work! When he becomes a creepy stalker you’ll regret this!” “Think of your niece and nephew! He’s slowly leaking information out of you about all of us…” The poor man. I’m sure he was just a normal person looking for friends or a group to hang out with, yet in my overly suspicious, occasionally paranoid, and often sceptical mind, he became an information seeking serial killer, on the lookout for his next victim in an innocent family gathering. Even as I realize the improbability of this, I still staunchly maintain that You Can’t Be Too Careful. It’s this same mantra that keeps me from opening the door when the sketchy steak selling man with the big van comes door to door. Or why I let the boy in the Comcast vest stand ringing the doorbell for five minutes, even though I was in his direct line of sight. Perhaps he believed I was deaf? This same, possibly faulty, mentality also stops me from holding the lively conversations with mormons, unless someone else is present, ready to defend when the “burglar within” makes his appearance. After all, it could be someone nefarious simply pretending to be Elder Matthews. Caution, always caution. (I would prefer to ignore that particular mantra when discussing my propensity to go jogging when it’s dark out… I already see the problems existing in that scenario. I just choose to do occasional stupid things. Also, dignity trumps safety at times.)
Already I am running slightly late, and am supposed to be reading from my Bible study book, and making tea to go. Therefore, I leave you with my few disjointed paragraphs and apologize for my scatterbrained manner this evening.

Technorati Tags: Adventures,Starbucks

My groove has come back and snatched me! Either that or I am back to being stuck in a rut…. But who is concerned with pedantic obscurities anyway? I am in an oddly happy content mood, which, if I were to be honest, may be called caffeine-induced. Today is a conglomeration of random facts, so please bear with me…
Fact 1: Starbucks Salted Caramel Mocha is wonderful. I have had three in the last two days, and highly recommend it to anyone who dares.  At first it’s a bit odd to the taste, because of the dash of salt… However, I am convinced that if you try it (and you must try more than one sip) you will be as hooked as I am. Even the smell of it makes me happy. On a side note, my jury is still out on this year’s starbucks Christmas cup. I am convinced that it is hard to beat the one I have pictured here… --------------------------->>>>>


Fact 2: Job chapter 38 is excellent. A group I meet with is going through a book called Questioning Evangelism, and the latest chapter mentioned that particular section of scripture. I am slightly ashamed to say that I waited until about 1/2 an hour ago to actually read it. Dozens of God’s mighty acts are brought up, and if you read it slowly and think about it, it’s quite powerful. It’s a series of questions addressed to Job, meant to display God’s omnipotence.

25 “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain
and a way for the thunderbolt,
26 to bring rain on a land where no man is,
on the desert in which there is no man,
27 to satisfy the waste and desolate land,
and to make the ground sprout with grass?

34 “Can you lift up your voice to the clouds,
that a flood of waters may cover you?
35 Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go
and say to you, ‘Here we are’?
36 Who has put wisdom in the inward parts    
or given understanding to the mind?

Fact 3: I would be greatly indebted to anyone who knows how to get my pictures off my phone and on to my computer…..

Fact 4: Skype is fantastic. There is something fun about having a two year old say “Me see you emi!!” through a screen… then ask you to help him open his fruit snack. Through the computer. 

Fact 5: I am once again looking for a job. While yes, I do love not having one, I also need money. And a vehicle. And insurance. I would also appreciate prayer for a job that, naively, I would enjoy. In the minds of millions of americans, the word “job” conjures up images of drudgery and daily frustrations that come home with you. With stars in my eyes, I look to my future and vainly believe that I can find a job I enjoy. Ridiculous of me perhaps, but prayer would be appreciate nonetheless.

Fact 6: I started this particular blog a week ago. Shame is my companion as I post it this late, but I will nonetheless. I would have liked to add more, but as my reader base has significantly dwindled, almost as much as my creativity, I’ll post it now and hope for the best.

Have a lovely Wednesday, friends. Actually I’m not sure if today is Wednesday. If not, then enjoy whatever day you read this on.

Coffee shop intruders.

I saw something the other day that sent me through a myriad of emotions and thought processes. At a Starbucks in Oregon, a person walked in front of me, and all I noticed was that they were wearing a shirt that on the back said, “On the first day, man created god.” It had Michelangelo’s painting of man’s hand reaching towards what is presumably God’s, in the background. The front of the shirt had the molecule symbol, with the words “Secular Alliance” and a web address.
This brought out a variety of reactions in me, one of which was probably not good. My first, knee-jerk response was a quick flash of defensive anger. I’m aware that there are people who think that way, but usually they don’t go posting it on their backs in a declaration to the world. The mockery it attempted to make of a Holy God, and of the things I believe in, immediately ‘got my hackles up,’ so to speak.
My second reaction was curiosity about her specifically. What had brought her to think that way, and to proclaim her beliefs, or lack thereof, to everyone she sees? Does her family think the same way, or are they perhaps grieving for her lack of belief? Does she even have family?
My third reaction was great pity and compassion. While we stood next to each other, waiting for our drinks, (which, by the way, was a long while. Don’t ever go to the Starbucks next to Fred Meyer, in Bend, Oregon. Always have slow service there.) my heart broke a little for her. What kind of life must an atheist lead? How can they sleep at night? Do they simply narcotize themselves by claiming “no” belief in God, and making valiant efforts not to think about it? And if they do, what kind of despair would that lead to? If you have no thoughts of eternity, no expectation of heaven, no joy and peace given by a gracious God, what do you live for? Where does she go when life gets hard? I cannot imagine living in that sad sort of box. A dark, silent box, in a way, where you can see nothing beyond your own troubles and despair. On earth, you may be able to stand alone and shout your heresies from the rooftops, and no one will bat an eye. But when it comes to the judgment day, you cannot stand alone to face God. You have to have been redeemed by His son’s blood. I wanted to talk to her, but I had people waiting for me. Now I’m ashamed that I didn’t say something. I wanted to ask her about her shirt, what prompted it, why she thinks that, etc, but all I could think was “They’re waiting in the car for you, and you won’t have time to really get into a good discussion.” So, then I went to plan B, which was to pull a card with a verse and a website on it out to give it to her, but of course I’d left that card in my other purse.
Then I left. I walked out of Starbucks, and she walked out behind me. She got into a car across from me, and I saw the Darwin fish on the back. You know the one, where they take the “Jesus fish” symbol, and put the word “Darwin” in it instead. (Also, usually when I see that, it makes me mad) Having not talked to her, or witnessed to her, I began to pray for her, and still am. But somehow I feel like I failed a little bit. That would’ve been a perfect opportunity, with a great opening. Yet, I walked away without saying a word. In a way, I can see why I did. Part of it was trepidation that I would say the wrong thing, but in all honestly, I mostly didn’t want to keep my parents waiting longer than necessary, and I didn’t want to start a discussion I couldn’t finish. The next time, however, I think I will just do it. Nevermind who is waiting for me, when I have the opportunity to plant a seed to get someone thinking about the Gospel.
All that aside, my very last reaction was this: Great joy that God has saved my soul! That I am not a party to the despair that pervades the lives of the unsaved! I don’t say that with a sense of superiority, thinking “Oh, so glad I’m not like HER!”, but with a sense of joy born of thankfulness. It was, in a way, a good reminder of what God has done for me.  Without God’s grace extended to me, I might be wearing a shirt just like that.
Oh, on another note of people intruding on you in coffee shops…. I was having coffee with a friend, and noticed a guy hanging around for a bit too long, apparently eavesdropping. We talked about a variety of things, such as music, church, books, etc. Then, he wanders over, a bit too buoyantly, hands my friend a piece of paper, says something incoherent about Taylor Swift, and then says to me, “Do you read my blog?”  I said, “I don’t know, what’s the name of your blog?” (I wanted to say something like “NO, you creep, why would you approach two young women and ask if they’d read your blog? Now back off!” However, I managed to mangle out a gracious smile. (I think. My friend may have a different opinion of what my facial expression was…) He’d written the name and web address of his blog down, as well as his name, and the phrase “The spirit of prophecy is the testimony of Jesus.” Then he said “Oh, it’s called ‘The Lost Tribes of Israel.’” He said a few other things, but he talked extremely fast, and was also not making sense. Aside from being extremely weirded out, no harm was done, and he left as quickly as he came, leaving us sitting there gaping at each other and trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Now I’m going to have to visit his blog, just to satisfy my curiosity!
Well, I’m supposed to be out working in the yard, so that must conclude this. (Can I say that? “That must conclude This?”) Well, that’s that, so no more of this. (While I’m mutilating grammar, I might as well go the whole way.)

Today finds me rejoicing on many angles. Despite a few things that have been stressful, even painful, this has been a marvelous day. And it's not even over yet!

Papa was thrilled when I told him that we could watch the Shepherd's Conference live. Therefore, I took extra pains to make sure it would work for him. Part of that involved hauling my speakers out, to make the volume louder. The streaming volume wasn't so great, but hooked to my speakers, it took on epic proportions. One would have thought that John MacArthur was standing in our kitchen. (A wonderful thing, to be sure! I would love to meet him. There are very few pastors I admire and respect as I do him. The Lord has used him in powerful ways.)
Hearing three thousand men singing "Crown Him With Many Crowns," accompanied by a symphony orchestra was phenomenal, in a musical sense, but more moving than anything else. MacArthur's first message was centered around separating the church from the world. He especially emphasized the folly in many of today's churches, of trying to embrace the culture, or make unbelievers feel "comfortable" in churches.  As much as I'd love to re-cap the whole thing, with my own editorial, I'll just assume you can listen to it yourself online later.
I am looking forward to the next few days.

Between sessions, I meandered off on a long walk. Lovely day for it. Oddly enough, my feet took me to Starbucks. I was helpless to stop. (on a side note, have I ever mentioned that the first sip of a peppermint mocha is like biting into an Ande's mint? Yum.)  As I mentioned on facebook, I am amazed at the clarity of thought solitude can bring. Also, I never cease to be surprised at how entertaining it can be to sit in starbucks and simply watch people. Of course, I did more than just watch people. I read the journal of Esther Edwards Burr. Esther was Jonathan Edwards' daughter, and began her journal when she was ten. Even at that young age, her writing shows a maturity and spiritual awareness that few have.
I was amazed at how caught up in her life I got, simply by reading her short, far between journal entries. I found myself smiling when she rejoiced, and nearly cried when her words described the tragedies that hit their family. (Thankfully, the fact that I was in a public place prevented me from being a total emotional wreck.)
Another thing I noticed, and will spend more time on, is that no matter how many griefs hit their family, the various members remained steadfastly faithful, and sought their comfort in the goodness of God.

Jerusha Edwards, when she was seventeen, was often around David Brainerd, who spent much time in the Edwards home. Eventually, they had an understanding. Esther wondered if he only wanted Jerusha because she would make an excellent missionary, and supported his work with the Indians, but it seemed that there was a very real affection between them, which makes their story more tragic. After spending nineteen weeks ill in the Edwards household, Brainerd died. He was taken care of and nursed by Jerusha in his last days. Five months after he died, Jerusha passed on as well. She was 18 years old.
Here is Esther's account of those two events:

Northampton, Oct. 9, 1747

 The sainted sufferer of the house, our temporary guest, our brother in the Lord, has at length, breathed his last. He called us all to his bedside, and tenderly talked of his going, and bade us, when we stand by his grave, to remember his words. He expressed himself ready to part with us all. "For to depart and be with Christ, was far better." To our Jerusha, his long-time nurse, who has watched and almost felt every pain of his poor racked body, for many months, he said: "Dear Jerusha, are you willing to part with me? I am quite willing to part with you. Though if I thought I should not see you and be happy with you in another world, I could not bear to part with you. But we will spend a happy eternity together." And so he had his message for each one of us all, and then fell asleep.

Northampton, Oct. 12, 1747

...Dear Jerusha's illuminated face was a study. She was rapt up no more in the living. It seemed as though her soul, liberated from earth, was already mounting up to holy communion with the spirits of the just made perfect, of whom not one of the great congregation could doubt, Mr. Brainerd was now one. And when came the words: "Are we not tending upward too, As fast as time can move? Nor would we wish the hours more slow, To keep us from our love!" it seemed to me as though she saw heaven open, the golden gates lifted up and was only waiting for angel wings to mount there. She is not long for this world. For exactly nineteen weeks, day and night, she has cared for this sick man; and she only eighteen.

 Northampton, Feb. 14, 1748

This day our dear Jerusha died at eighteen. If as she and her sainted David, and we all believe, she be gone to her Father's House, she has already joined the holy company, of which he since last October has been one. They have been separated only five months. Though I doubt, whether he has ever been absent from her thought and longing love....And so we shall lay the frame of this ministering angel side by side with that of the man, who breathed out his life almost in her arms....Now they can say in concert, "My beloved is mine, and I am His!"

The next sad thing to happen to their family was the voting of the council to remove Jonathan Edwards from his church

Northampton, January

.....Nothing could be more beautiful than the manner in which Mr. and Mrs. Edwards have submitted to the decision of the Council with its majority of only one, recommending our removal from this place....

In 1752, Esther married Rev. Burr of Newark, President of the New Jersey College. In 1757, he died, leaving her with two children.

Princeton, Oct. 7, 1757

My loss, shall I attempt to describe it? God only can know. What can be written to set forth the affliction of a poor disconsolate widow and two fatherless ones? I have lost all that could be desired in a creature. I have lost all that I ever set my heart on, in this world. In his eulogium, Gov. Livingston said: "Cease not to weep and angel, whom you loved as a man." Oh, I am afraid I shall conduct myself so as to bring dishonor to my God and the religion I profess. No, let me rather die, this moment. I am overcome. To God only will I carry my complaint. I will speak it to His glory, that I think He has in an uncommon degree discovered Himself to be an all-sufficient God, a full fountain of good. 

She went on to write a letter to her father, parts of which I have included:

One evening, in talking of the glorious state my dear departed husband must be in, my soul was carried out in such large desires after that glorious state, that I was forced to retire from the family to conceal my joy. When alone, I was so transported, and my sould carried out in such eager desires after perfection and the full enjoyment of God, and to serve Him uninterruptedly, that I think my nature would not have borne much more. I think, that night I had a foretaste of Heaven....I beg leave to add my need of the earnest prayers....but that God would constantly grant me new supplies of divine grace.

Here is part of  Edwards' reply to her:

Indeed, He is a faithful God; He will remember His covenant forever; and never will fail them that trust in Him. But don't be surprised as though some strange thing had happened to you, if after this lights, clouds of darkness should return. Perpetual sunshine is not usual in this world, even to God's true saints...

The next year, Edwards himself died. I know I have posted this letter before, but I had to add it again. This is the letter that Sarah Edwards wrote to Esther.

My Dear Child:

A holy and a good God has covered us with a dark cloud... The Lord has done it. He has made me adore his goodness, that we have had him for so long. But, my God lives and He has my heart. O what a legacy my husband and your father has left us. We are all given to God, and there I am, and love to be. 

Your ever affectionate mother, 

                            Sarah Edwards

Sixteen days after her father died, Esther Edwards Burr died. Reading her journal was not only enjoyable, but held many personal examples of people who were more interested in serving the Lord than themselves, and who threw themselves wholly on His grace and goodness.
Hopefully you found this as interesting and profitable as I did.
 

 

Adventures in Mother-land.

Such a morning has been had! Not only have I spent money, but also been to two different Starbucks I'd never been to before. Marvelous.
This morning found me with Kari, Sarah, and lots of women with children. If I hadn't been pushing a stroller, I would've felt quite out of place. As it was, though, I was able to overcome this to get to one of the main businesses of the day-- Buying things for Abigail and Gabriel! Offhand, I have no idea what the name of the place we went to was-- all I know was that it was a mass consignment sale of some sort, with hundreds of baby toys and clothes. An auntie or new mother's paradise! Thankfully, we were fortified with coffee, ready to take on anything... including any mothers who would dare to get in our way. Some of the conversations I overheard were exceedingly awkward, and not ones I would care to repeat... welcome to the world of pregnant women. Or women with babies. Or women with children.
One thing I learned-- if I'm going to be shopping at a baby place, or be around lots of pregnant women, wearing a babydoll style shirt is a bad idea. The advantage is that I blended in, I suppose. :/
Quite an interesting place, overall. I found it entertaining (and occasionally disturbing) to observe the "public" parenting of many people there. There's the mother that yells at her kid to be quiet, as well as the mother who doesn't care what her kid is up to. Or there are the mothers who smile and give their screaming kid whatever they want.
 It doesn't take long to get acclimated to random baby-ish shrieks coming from various directions. However, there was one thing that I couldn't quite feel comfortable with-- A woman asked me if I'd be interested in buying some body-re-shaping clothing. "We have some for post-partum, as well!" (she adds helpfully) I informed her that I was quite happy with my current body shape, so no, thank you. "Well, then, would you care to enter the drawing to possibly get some free?" Once again, I offered my polite (if slightly acidic) "No, thank you." (After that comes the false smile, of course. As well as me frantically wondering if I look pregnant.)
Another fun thing about being around that many people is all the conversations you overhear while standing in line, or while unobtrusively going through racks of 6-9 months baby clothes. I almost felt as if I was listening in on people's lives. One woman was giving quite the narrative to her friend... "So I was like, Fine, I've had it. If he doesn't want me, he's just not good enough for me! So, I'm like, totally gone."
I resisted the urge to turn around and ask if she was talking about her boss, her dog, or her boyfriend.
The other fascinating, if odd, one I heard was an indian man with an accent talking into his bluetooth. He'd been standing in line for quite some time, looking bored. Here and there I caught a snippet... "And, man, you would love it. Dude, I was going down this waterfall and..... Pretty awesome stuff man, ya know! Just wild." After listening to a few more tales of heroics and adventures, I decided that he was (at the very least) embellishing his story. He was one of three guys that I noticed there. Despite his butchering of the english language, I had to admire his tenacity for braving a sale like that.
One of the positive ends of all this: Abigail will soon be the proud (if unaware) owner of a pink poodle stuffed animal. Her name is Collette. Gabriel will have a sweet, if slightly funny-looking horse (or donkey-- it's hard to tell which he is) as a new cuddle bud. What can I say, I have a fetish for buying obscure stuffed animals. But they were so cute!
Anyway, I have lots of things that I should be doing, and blogging is not one of the necessities... therefore, adieu.