Thankful for time to be alone

I love to be alone.

I also like to be with people.  I don't like to be alone over tremendously long stretches of time.  For instance, when Shawn goes away on business trips.  Business trips result in more alone time than I really appreciate, especially in the evenings after the sun goes down and the windows turn black.  Going to bed at night all by myself is lonely in not-a-good-way.

But I do love to spend some time alone, every day, preferably in the morning.  Long, quiet mornings alone are an unspeakable luxury.

I like to read my Bible and pray, all by myself.  It's much harder for me to do these things when there are people around.

I like to be alone when I write.  Actually, I probably fundamentally need to be alone when I write.

There's that song, "Give me Jesus."  It has a verse that says, "When I am alone, give me Jesus."

When I am working on chores, or taking a walk, or eating, then I prefer to have company.

When I am praying, studying, writing, then I like to be alone.

I am thankful for times when I have opportunities to be alone, to get centered, to let the Lord examine my heart.

Since Jesus promises never to leave me nor forsake me, I am never utterly alone.  Alone with Jesus, that's what I love.

I am thankful for time when I can be alone with Jesus.

Thankful for hope

I don't know what the future holds, what is beyond the next hill or twist in the road.

It is a mercy that we don't know the future, I think.  It's a mercy not to be burdened with all the details of what is to come.

We do know this:

Jesus is coming back, and He will bring the final triumph of good over evil, completely and forever.

Knowing that, we have hope.  Sure hope.  Hope that, as the Bible says, will never be put to shame.

I am thankful that no matter what lies across the horizon, I can hope in the Lord, and He will never let me down.

Thankful that my husband is home

Paris is under seige.

But here in the flat center of the USA, the sun is shining, and my husband, who has traveled five out of the past six weeks, is home.

It is good to be together when the world is in tumult.

He fixed me the first good cup of coffee I've had in ages.

We feasted on leftover crustless quiche, because I made it for myself while he was gone and didn't even get a fourth of the way into it.

We sat, talked, hugged, held hands.  It feels good to rest your head on the shoulder of the one you've been missing.

Together.  Near.  With.

I will wash his laundry from the week, and life will be mostly normal, despite everything.

I am thankful that my husband is home.

Thankful for books

I am thankful for books.

Books teach us truths, transport us to other worlds, and broaden our minds and understanding with perspectives we would otherwise never know.

The books we read have a great influence on whom we become.

In my older years, I mostly read the Bible, but I do read other books, and I have read many other books in the past.

In a soul-bearing move, I will show you pictures of some of my bookshelves.  This is threatening both because it tells you a lot about who I am, and also because the photography is particularly bad.  Part of the reason for the bad photography is that I don't put much effort into making my books look aesthetically pleasing on a shelf, and then when I go to photograph them, I don't know where to focus, so the overall sloppiness just piles up. 

Nevertheless, I am thankful for books, and here are some of my favorites:

Here is a group of books I love, mostly by John Piper and C.S. Lewis.

Honestly, if you had only the Bible, Piper, and Lewis, you would be fine.

Desiring God by Piper.

Mere Christianity by Lewis.

At the end of my set of Bible commentaries, 

some blessedly solid theology by Tozer and Packer, 

with a couple other authors thrown in.  

Packer's, Evangelism and the Sovereignty of God 

is an important book that simplifies a difficult subject.

This shelf makes me smile, for the sheer randomness of it.

The Magic City by E. Nesbit (one of the few things our dog Piper ever defaced by chewing)
I am David by Anne Holm
From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
Pearls of Lutra by Brian Jacques
Hank the Cowdog: The Case of the Haystack Kitties by John R. Erickson
Ralph S. Mouse by Beverly Cleary
A book from the Series of Unfortunate Events series
A Hardy Boys Mystery
A couple of books full of history trivia to stimulate young minds
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis
The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman
Iran: The Coming Crisis by Mark Hitchcock (? -- haven't read it; sounds scary)
Lila by Marilynne Robinson
The Grand Weaver by Ravi Zacharias
The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis
Seeking the Face of God by Martin Lloyd-Jones
The Sovereignty of God by Arthur Pink
Spiritual Depression by Martin Lloyd-Jones
Amy Vanderbilt's Everyday Etiquette by Letitia Baldrige
Another history trivia book for kids
Let Me Be a Woman by Elisabeth Elliot
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

And they all sit on top of a massive art book full of Van Gogh prints, while The Very Quiet Cricket by Eric Carle nestles in behind, perpendicularly because it is too wide for any shelf.

I guess I read theology and children's literature, mostly.  These are all in our study, upstairs, where I write on my computer.  We have three six-foot-tall bookshelves against the long wall in here, and it feels like a library.  I love it.

Downstairs, in our front hall, there is another bookshelf.

Originally this was meant to hold "real literature."  It is rather a random mix, but with less children's literature (maybe).  This is where I keep my Dickens, my George Eliot and my Jane Austen, and where I placed Tolkien between Chaucer and Homer.  But you will also find the Hunger Games trilogy on this shelf, The Book Thief, Ender's Game and two (??) copies of The Great Gatsby.

In a closer view, you also see a collection of Alan Bradley and a collection of Madeleine L'Engle.  Oh!  There's The Wind in the Willows and The Phantom Tollbooth.  Maybe I've placed as much children's literature here as anywhere; there's even a green anthology of it.

I am thankful for books.  I've made many friends through books, and there are a lot of people I look forward to talking with in heaven, to thank them for how their words have ministered to me on earth, even though we've never met.

Ruminating on what books mean to me, and how they have touched me, gives me a deeper understanding of what the Bible means when it calls Jesus, "The Word of God."  He is the greatest "book" of all.

Thankful for trials

Thankful for trials.

Wow.  I never thought I would say this.  I never thought I would be able to say this.  I am the Big Chicken, remember?  I'm the one who is always complaining about the way we have to learn through pain, and wishing it were a different way.

Count it all joy, my brothers,

when you meet trials of various kinds,

for you know that the testing of your faith 

produces steadfastness. 

And let steadfastness have its full effect, 

that you may be perfect and complete, 

lacking in nothing. 

~James 1:2-4 (ESV)

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, 

knowing that suffering produces endurance, 

and endurance produces character, 

and character produces hope, 

and hope does not put us to shame, 

because God's love has been poured into our hearts 

through the Holy Spirit 

who has been given to us. 

~Romans 5:3-5 (ESV)

You learn things when you go through something hard.  

You learn that God is faithful.  He may not fix the problem when you want Him to fix the problem, but He demonstrates His nearness over and over.

You keep seeing the same words come up, words like hope, peace, joy.  Delight yourself in the Lord.  All things are possible with God.  You find these words in the morning when you are reading the Bible by yourself, and then you see them in an article on the internet, or hear a friend speak them, or they rise up out of a small group Bible study.  They may even float by on the notes of a song.

You spend a rough morning crying tears to the Lord, and the phone rings.  Although you never answer the phone when you don't recognize the number, you happen to pick it up, and it's a friend you haven't spoken with in quite some time.  "The Holy Spirit put you on my heart, Ruth," she says, "He told me to find your phone number, and I looked until I did.  I don't know why, but I just got to pray for you."   And she does, balmy God-words flowing, mixed with scripture, from her lips.  "God is faithful," she tells you.  "He has this.  He's the almighty God and nobody can stop Him.  You got to PUSH.  You heard that before?  PUSH.  It means Pray Until Something Happens, and it's going to.  God's not going to let you down.  He's faithful.  He's merciful.  He's Love."  Through your wondering tears, you try to tell her how blessed you are by her obedience to the Spirit's direction.

You have it out with God one afternoon, and you beg Him, "Please, if You aren't going to fix this, please hold my faith together.  Please help me see Your goodness when things don't seem good.  Please don't let me stop believing when it feels like You are so far away, and it appears that You are not acting on my behalf." He leads you to John 6:68-69 (you were familiar with the words but didn't know where they were, and then, while looking for something else, you stumble across them) --

“Lord, to whom shall we go? 

You have the words of eternal life,  

and we have believed, and have come to know, 

that you are the Holy One of God.” (ESV)

He shows you beauty all around you, soothes your spirit, comforts your heart.  He tells you, "Delight in me, my child.  I will care for you.  I will never leave you nor forsake you.  I am your God and I watch over you always, without slumbering or sleeping.  I am your Shepherd, and you shall lack nothing."  As He gently works, you begin to experience joy again, to see beauty and goodness and the hand of God all over, in spite of the thing that troubles you.

You also learn things about yourself.

You become aware of ways you used to be, ways that needed to change.  You used to be so protective of yourself.  "I feel bad for those people," you'd say.  "I'll be pleasant, and maybe donate to a shelter or something, but arm's length is good.  I don't want them to know where I live."  You realize that God has ways of breaking down these attitudes, tendering your heart, making you care compassionately for the lost in ways you never could before He began the hard work.

You learn the difference between understanding that and understanding how.  For instance, you used to understand that certain topics of conversation could make someone sad, but now you understand how the sad person feels in the middle of the discussion, the uncontrollable visceral pang.  You understand how the barren woman feels when she sees a new mother with her baby.  You understand how a mother of a child with a disability feels when the mothers of "normal" children celebrate their children's successes in sports and academics.  You understand so much more, and with more understanding comes less judging.

Some of us have a strong propensity to try desperately to do everything right so nothing bad will happen to us.  There are two problems with that.  (1) None of us can do everything right, and (2) Bad things will happen; we live in a fallen world.  When we live under the mistaken notion that we can control outcomes and insulate ourselves from trouble by doing all things right, we set ourselves up to suffer loads of guilt when troubles come.  We think we are being punished.  It's the natural conclusion.  It's what Job's friends told him: "You must have sinned.  Confess your sins to God, and He will stop tormenting you." 

We have all sinned, but a person's sin is not the cause of all his suffering.  When trials come, we must learn to give up control and hope in the Lord.  To whom shall we go, if not Him?

God uses all things for good for His people.  He uses terrible, painful situations.  He uses brokenness and loss.  He even uses sin and guilt, redeems them and makes them produce blessed results.  He uses it all for good, to form our hearts and to beautify our spirits within us, to make us holy.

I wouldn't say my spirit is beautiful yet, but I know without a doubt that He is working on it.  He is teaching me, growing me, changing me.  I'm already stronger, already a little more joyful than I ever was before, for no understandable reason except that Jesus is working a miracle.

So yes.  I am thankful for trials.

Kind of.  I'm thankful for how God powerfully uses them, anyway. 

 

Thankful for pears

Some years, I hardly buy any pears, sometimes none at all.

Other years, the pears are plentiful, tasty and reasonably priced.  These are what I call pear years.  During pear years, I buy quite a lot of pears.

I am happy to say that this has been a pear year.

There is nothing quite like a ripe, juicy pear.  The wet, smooth, melt-in-your mouth texture of sweet, mellow pear flesh is even a pleasure to slice with a knife, let alone taste on your tongue.

Isn't it amazing that such deliciousness should grow on a tree, in the sunshine, and be good for you?

Once I was at a luncheon, and they served a fancy salad.  The salad contained a number of exotic ingredients and a lovely vinaigrette dressing.  Oddly, interspersed amongst arugula, radicchio, spinach, goat cheese, glazed walnuts and huge glistening blackberries, there appeared to be wedges of unpeeled boiled potatoes.  I picked around the potatoes for awhile before I finally steeled myself to do the right thing and eat them too.  Imagine my surprise when my teeth sank into Bosc pear, a perfectly ripe, sweet, juicy Bosc pear, and not a boiled potato at all.  Few surprises in my life could rival the unexpected delight of that one.

Pears are just so good.

I am thankful for pears, and to God who made them.  What a wonderful gift He dreamed up for us when He thought of a pear.

Thankful for Epsom salt

Epsom salt is, honestly, quite amazing.

A 20-30 minute soak in a fairly warm bath of Epsom salt gives me substantial pain relief for a substantial length of time.  This is a big deal for someone with lupus, but people without lupus might derive some benefit as well.

My tub is big, so I use two cups of Epsom salt, measured carelessly, because the Epsom salt is usually chunky (having been stored in a humid bathroom) and does not fit neatly into a measuring cup.

I've found that I achieve my best water temperature if I get into the tub just as I begin to run the tap, and adjust the hot-cold ratio to my liking as it fills.

You don't want too hot a bath, or you will get woozy.  At least, I do.  I've almost fainted from too hot a bath.

But a nice, warm bath (just this side of hot, if you know what I mean), with Epsom salt and a few drops of lavender essential oil, is legitimately therapeutic.

I've found that the pain relieving effects from an Epsom salt bath are more comprehensive and longer lasting than a what I get from a professional, therapeutic massage. . . and for significantly less expense.

I am thankful for Epsom salt.