Proverbs 31 for the Single Girl

This month was my last month writing for Grace & Honor. I had so much fun over the years sharing articles and things that the Lord was teaching me, and I'm going to miss working with the great authors and contributors that we had!

Here's this month's article:

She’s that illustrious goddess of domesticity. Her husband is crazy about her, the kids adore her, she is business-savvy, Martha Stewart, Paula Deen, Mother Theresa and Jackie Kennedy all rolled into one. The epitome of poise, her house beautifully decorated, her table laden with healthy and delicious foods, her family’s needs all met, and her entrepreneurial spirit bringing in a little extra cash. At least, that’s how we usually picture the Proverbs 31 woman.

I remember quite a few years ago as I was reading through Proverbs 31, and I was struck by verse 12, “She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”

Continue Reading "Proverbs 31 for the Single Girl"....

The Beauty of Worship

The air was a bit close in the room where they all sat, stuffed around a low table, relaxing as the meal came to a close. The candlelight flickered off the walls of the little abode, and the conversation has dropped to a low murmur. The door hesitatingly creaked open, and a small woman slipped in, carrying a vessel in her hands. Eyes followed her movement across the room, past the men, and to the head of the table. She was intruding in a man’s world, this small woman with her small box.

Continue reading "The Beauty of Worship Through Sacrifice"...

That article went up on Grace & Honor several days ago, but I'm just getting around to posting it here. You might say I've been a bit preoccupied lately. :)

New Articles...

It's that time - every two months - when the Grace & Honor goes up with new articles! I've got two in this month's edition.

It was Corrie ten Boom that said, “God has no problems, only plans.” How wise for us to remember, as His much-loved children, that what we perceive as problems, pains, trials, and temptations, are merely God rearranging events to fit His plan, orchestrating lessons for us in the school of faith.

It is not reasonable to think of God as simply a mere human being. We are surprised at unfaithfulness in our fellow man; we are taken back at the wickedness we see around us. When our best-laid plans are upset, we reel in shock that we must begin our planning again. Events out of our control have the ability to set us on our ear just when we thought we were really starting to go somewhere.

------> Continue reading "When God Has Another Plan"

Down through Bible history, we find women who waited. Should we think it strange when we have to wait for what God has for us?

------> Continue reading "Women Who Waited"

I Hope So!

In case you missed it, from this month's Grace & Honor...

When we use the word ‘hope’ today, we usually mean that we ‘wish very hard’ for something to happen, although you might have varying degrees of intensity to your wishing. “I hope it doesn’t rain.” “I hope they put chicken on sale.” “I hope to get married one day.” 

The Bible use of the word ‘hope’, however, is vastly different. Hope in the Bible is the same as expectation or assurance, knowing that something is going to happen. It isn’t just a strong wishing, and hoping that by mere wishing you will force something to happen. No, it includes a knowledge of the past character of the One in whom you hope and an assurance that they will act in the same manner going forward into the future.

Continue reading....

New Articles in Other Places

Or at least one other place, namely, this month's Grace & Honor.

The wind shakes the windows
startles my focus
makes my heart shiver

Swirling gusts circle
leaving me scared
leaving dust in my eyes

The howling makes me think
this life is dangerous
and best left alone...

Continue reading "In Waiting I Learn"

"Armed with her GPS, her glovebox stuffed with backup maps, and a full tank of gas, Sheila headed for the turnpike. “Ah, I love road trips!” she said, windows down to the spring breeze and her favorite artists singing through the stereo. Entrance ramps ahead, she glanced in her mirror and changed lanes. “WAIT! Where am I going?” she thought."

Continue reading "How to Get Where You're Going (You Have to Know Where)"

The Potential of a Thought

"And thus begins February, the month of love. Chocolates, flowers, hearts, everything pink and glittery and romantic – all pointing to one particular holiday that some of my friends like to call “Single Awareness Day.” Perhaps the most depressing day of the year for a single girl, one might feel like all the married people are taunting with their relationship status. Every decoration, every bunch of roses, every couple with starry gazes just reminds you that you are yet single and unattached. There’s no one to send you chocolates and flowers.


"Before you get too Eeyore-like, let’s look at some truths. “Truth? How boring is that?” you might ask. Actually, not very boring at all. Did you realize that your emotions are directly related to your thinking? If you think about how you are ‘all alone,’ your emotions will soon reflect that thinking. If you dwell on the thought that ‘no one really loves you so there must be something wrong with you,’ it won’t be long until you find your feelings out of control and resentful of others. Wrong thoughts lead to wrong emotions and eventually wrong actions. Have you ever acted on impulse because of how you felt? You immediately knew what you did was wrong, but it felt so good in that moment! That can trace back to the way you were thinking."

Continue reading on this month's Grace & Honor... and take a few minutes to check out some of the other great articles, too!

All Together Night

If I was home in Pennsylvania, this is exactly the sort of night that I would revel in. I would take my dog out into the evening and simply soak up the deliciousness.

It’s a cool sort of evening, light breeze being the center show. It sweeps through my window in gusts, pulling back the curtains as if some living thing is there. It ripples over my bare arms and teases the wisps of my hair. I would say it is sweet with promise, but this breeze has no scent at all. If I close my eyes and imagine, I can smell the scent of childhood.

Just me in the night, tree limbs silhouetted against a periwinkle sky, the first stars peeking out, and no one to hear me as I murmur my prayers unhindered to the heavens. Fireflies winking from the creek bed, croaking toads in the pond, bats chirping as they dance overhead. The scent of fresh-mown grass, moist earth, honeysuckle growing wild.

It’s a beauty I remember when the breeze turns like this, and it leaves an odd pang in my heart.

Africa is a beautiful place, but it isn’t the same sort of beauty. The other is an easy beauty – the night was safety. Nights were for happy times – long walks in the twilight, a book by flashlight under the blanket, sleepovers and sweet dreams.

Nights in Africa mean danger. They are beautiful, certainly. Breath-taking sunsets, chirping cicadas in thorn bushes, the heavy scent of cycad after it rains, so many stars as if someone broke open a jar. But night means darkness, and darkness brings evil. We try to be smart and stay where it is safe once darkness falls.

This is why this breeze tonight – so welcome, so soothing – is also so bittersweet, bringing up memories and hopes and limitations and dreams all together. 

Guest Post

I'm guest posting today over at Cotton+Wood. She asked me some questions about celebrating Christmas in Botswana, and I waxed long and eloquent... plus, a recipe!!!

My first guest post ever! :) Thanks, Rebecca!!

From this month's Grace & Honor

"The whole family is gathered together. Twinkling lights reflect in children’s eyes as they gather around and Grandpa reads the Christmas story. There is hot apple cider to sip and fresh cookies to munch. Then the fun begins – it’s gift time! The gifts are distributed, and soon it is your turn. You open a soft, lumpy package from your Great Aunt Martha. It’s a… sweater! Yes, a sweater in a color that you despise, in that odd 90’s style that is definitely not modern, but not yet vintage, and hence, a style you would not be caught dead in. Worst of all, there are rabbits embroidered around the bottom edge. Too kitschy, too outdated, too childish, too UGLY. Now what happens?"

Continue reading ---  "How to Receive a Gift You Didn't Want"...

"She lived a simple life. She wasn’t flamboyant; she wasn’t boisterous. She loved a good man, and their modest plans for a life together filled her waking moments. She had a happy past, a joyful present and a bright future.

"And then her life was turned upside down."

Continue reading --- "A Life Changed By God"...

Two Articles...

... on the Grace & Honor this month! Check it out. :)

I think one of the hardest things that a single woman struggles with is the whole issue of security. It is a many-faceted problem, and one that we often think would be solved by getting married. “If only I had a husband, then I would have someone to take care of me, someone to share my burdens. If only I was married, I would have financial security, a place to live, someone to love me unconditionally, and someone else to just be in charge and make the decisions for me!”... Continue reading "A Hard Lesson"


In John chapter 5, we read of another miracle of Jesus Christ. The setting was the pool of Bethesda, a place of miracles as an angel came at a certain season to trouble the water which would heal the person who first jumped into the pool. As one could imagine, the area was always crowded with all sorts of infirm folks, waiting for that troubling of the water. Jesus came by one day and in His infinite wisdom and knowledge of all hearts, spoke to one man in particular... Continue reading "Let it Be, Think on Me"

Can I just say that I felt this was a month of exceptional articles on the Grace & Honor website? I am always amazed at how the Lord individually puts special thoughts on each of the ladies' hearts... and they all weave together to make such an edifying and encouraging read each month. If you haven't checked it out lately, I do encourage you to go read some today!

The Power of a Promise

I just realized I never linked up with last month's Grace & Honor article. Here it is...
______________

“But he promised,” she whispered. “I know he’s going to come.”

There are few things as sweet as a little girl’s trust in her loving father. When she has a daddy who has cared for her and is extra careful to always tell the truth and always keep his promises, in her mind, there is nothing her daddy cannot do. She doesn’t understand that even fathers have limitations. He might make a promise, and circumstances out of his control would prevent him from keeping that promise, no matter how he tried. That is the limitation of being only human.

Continue reading... HERE...

Contrast of Africa

And there I was. Surrounded by my Africa. Surrounded by its beauty, its harshness, and its ruggedness. This is the Africa I love. This juxtaposition of death and life. This contrast of hardness and inconsistency with awesomeness and spirit.

There I was – window down to the breeze, the scent of the elephants and the dust and the river all mixed together to give the scent of Africa. Waters of beauty looked glassy, reflecting every color of the sunset back to infinity – colors as far as the eye could see. But beneath the waters lurked terrors, things with teeth and survival instincts that should put fear into any thinking person. Long golden grasses bend in rhythm with the wind, masking more lurking beasts. Every amazing thing you see signifies harshness, a reality of life that we want to forget about. Plants with thorns, spiders that bite, snakes with poison, and even flowers that sting. Everything beautiful provides a cover for a creature that would like nothing better than to harm you in protection of itself.

This is the wildness that so many people find invigorating. It is so unlike our sterilized world of clean-cut lines, warning signs and safety nets. This is the real world; the real wild, unadulterated by man’s rules or tamed by firearms.

It’s breathtaking, but it can be breath-crushing. This is the lure of Africa, the call of the wild. Something in us responds to this unknown, this carnivorous otherworld where survival depends on your speed and your quick wits. Without some power outside of myself, I would not last in this world for very long. Without shelter, camaraderie, and protection, I wouldn’t get very far in this wild world after all. Maybe there is a lesson here. Maybe I should think on this some more.

But for now, without digging too deep and thinking too hard, I know this: This is why I view all this beauty and cruelty from my window. As much as I love this wild part of Africa, I’m glad I can participate in it while in the safety and security of my modern-world vehicle.

My Strongest Sense

My fingertips smell like oranges, which of course reminds me of Christmas. I can’t really explain why exactly, except that we almost always got a box of clementines for Christmas every year, which we would eat like candy. And since they weren’t actually candy, Mom let us eat as many as we wanted and would usually go buy us another box or two when we all remembered how much we loved them.

So now my fingertips smell like oranges and my memory fills in the rest of the scent of Christmas – fresh pine needles stuck in our old brown carpet, fresh-baked yeast rolls and a roasting turkey.

I can still feel the scratch of my old fleecy pajamas (scratchy fleece… remember that? Way back before fleece became so cloudlike and soft?) and if I close my eyes, I can picture my 11-year old self with pink-rimmed glasses and bangs hanging in my eyes, and straight blond hair down to my waist. Sleeping in my newly redecorated ‘grown up’ room, my bed firmly anchored in the center of the room where I could slyly watch every person who came up and down the stairs or in and out of the bathroom. Down at the bottom of the stairs burned our wood stove and the rhythmic hum of the fan blowing the heat into the rest of the house lulled me to sleep on many a winter night. Outside, I would tiptoe through the snow right before bed, not wanting to break the spell of the quiet. Inside, all three brothers laughed and joked and we were only a family of six.

Those days seem so far away in so many ways, and yet all it takes is the whiff of orange on my fingertips and I am instantly there.

New G&H

I think this was one of the best months for Grace & Honor yet! I so enjoyed reading over the articles and updates sent in by our authors. Lots of good stuff there!

Check it out HERE.

Why I Write

I borrowed one of my sister-in-law's books, and found At the Edge of the Village to be a quick and enjoyable read, giving one missionary wife's memories of living on the Ivory Coast. A very interesting and funny book, as well as a good look into African culture in that area of the continent.

I came across this little passage as she was writing about each of her children, and I really liked the way she expressed it. This is one of the reasons that I write... to capture a moment or a person with words, just like you would with a camera.

"There are certain fleeting moments in time that, if stopped and held, say so much about a person - actions that bring personality to life and render it special. I love to capture such moments, no matter how small or mundane, like a camera imprinting a scene and immortalizing it forever in my mind." -Lisa Leidenfrost, At the Edge of the Village

One Evening in a Corn Field

Driving home this evening, my attention was captivated by the beautiful moon rising over the corn fields, perfectly framed between two mountains and backdropped by a brilliant blue that I someday wish to find in a paint chip. I was instantly upset with myself for deciding to leave the camera at home, when I had almost brought it with me but changed my mind at the last instant. I pulled over on a deserted road and tried to take some pictures with my phone, but it just wasn't enough. How I wish I could have captured that beautiful scene... but then I thought, "I fancy myself to be some kind of a writer, and if I can't describe this, then I can't describe anything!" So here I will try to describe it to you, and I hope you will feel as if you were sitting in the car right beside me. Although as beautiful as words can be (and as much as I can be addicted to them), there really is nothing like being there... God obviously did it best the first time around. :)

It is that almost magical time of day we describe as twilight. The sun is setting beyond the horizon, leaving in his wake a stream of intense pinks, oranges, and reds. With an almost audible sigh and a brilliant flash of the last sunbeam, he releases his last toe-hold on the rim of the earth and slips below the surface. There, just beyond the mountain, rises the yellowed slice of moon. All around him and reflected from the line of clouds hovering above the earth, the sky is a beautiful blue, almost a turquoise, like the color of water along a Caribbean shore. Subtly, almost deceptively, the color deepens upward, eventually giving in to a deep, deep blue, so far and so dark you almost feel you could see forever in it. Piercings of stars begin to show through, twinkling their welcome to the coming of night, anchoring the deepness of that eternal blue.

The gentle moon beams and leftover refractions from the sun meet each other in the corn field in which I sit. Though the sky is mostly dark now, still everything in the field seems clear, leaves glinting reflection like sentries on guard, rustling softly by a breeze I think I wish more than feel. I sit in my car with windows down and breathe in twilight. It smells like corn... fresh dirt turned under... manure... and humidity. Heavy air presses in on my lungs, the edges of everything are hazed with the water in the air.

It is then I notice what seems at first complete silence, but soon realize is only the absence of human activity to which I am accustomed. Slowly, my ears adjust to what sounds there are - a cacophony of living things. It reminds me of an orchestra tuning up before a big performance. For it is at this time that the day and the night creatures meet - daytime animals finding their resting place for the evening, and nocturnal animals coming to stretch. All around me is rustling and scamping, chirping and calling, breathing and sighing.

I wish I could stay much longer to watch the moon, to see how he changes the color of the sky as he glides across through his evening orbit. But homeward bound I must be, leaving that enchanted field behind.

When humid air creeps in...

When humid air creeps in and brings to life
the scent of 100-year-old wood -
the pines, the cherries, the oaks -
with 100-year-old dust to create a scent familiar
to those who grew up in old farmhouses,
those humid homes with sticky floors and sticky doors
and sweating pipes and stifling attics.

The morning air is sweet, and windows open
bring the smell of cooking sausage and brewing coffee
mixed with blooming honeysuckle, manure,
and beautiful sunshine on dew-laden grass.

The sound of birds outside, so happy in warmth
and the sound of a fan in every room
to stir sticky stifling around and make it livable.

It makes me so happy, so youthful
and I want to run through grass like I did as a child
dandelion fluff sticking between my toes
sweet clover rustling as I go.

To drip with water from the swimming pool,
feeling sensations of hot and cool
from catching tadpoles in the creek
to sunning on the rock-baked patio
and then back in my room, my very own little girly room
to lie in front of the fan and whisper secrets to my very own best friend.

To ride bikes as if they are horses

through the fields and around the empty lot
box lids clothespinned between the spokes
to make the galloping sound quite necessary when you are only 10.

To know the realization of very short life
through the unfortunate accident of a mother rabbit
(whose funeral in the front yard was a teary one to say the least)
and to know the fulfillment of nurturing life
by bringing back to health baby rabbits left behind
and name them after the very best rabbits we know -
Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, Benjamin and Peter.

To eat popsicles three at a time
and spend hours in the forgotten library with books
that haven’t been cracked open in more than a decade.

And all this comes flooding to mind as quick as the snap of two fingers

when humid air creeps in and brings to life
the scent of 100-year-old wood.

On Wasting Time

I’m sitting in a little coffee shop, sipping my iced coffee and trying to work. I’ve got my laptop open and my thesis in front of me, steno pad at the ready, and a stack of books open (ebooks, not real ones). Yet, I’m finding it hard to actually work. Can you believe it?

The whole goal of coming to work here was to get away from the familiar – the easy distractions and comfort of my own home where I spend most of my days. It’s easy to ignore what you are supposed to be doing in favor of doing other things – even good things, but not what you were originally supposed to be doing.

But the problem with coming to work in such a public forum is that when I’m in the mood to people-watch (always), I am easily distracted. For instance, rather than forming a list of questions, I’m watching the people walking by on the street. Instead of rewording my one-line questions into multiple-choice, I’m watching the interaction between an older couple at the next table. Instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing, I’m writing this. In other words, instead of wasting time at home, I’m wasting time here. It would probably be better if I was wasting it at home because then I’m usually doing something semi-productive like sewing or cleaning.

{sigh}

And right at that point, they closed the coffee shop early for the day. The nerve of some people. :)

I love writing and I usually don’t have a problem writing. But now that the thesis is all written, I’m at the hard part – coming up with questions and turning my writing into a curriculum. Quite frankly, I stink at this part.

I’m almost there! I just keep telling myself…if I work hard and meet the deadline, this will all be over in two weeks, and hopefully sooner. :)

How do I get myself in these things?

I've never had such trouble writing anything in my life.

The only thing that stands between me and my Bachelor's is my thesis. I've done the research, written my outline and course objectives, even breaking everything down into 6 sections with specific goals, splitting each section into three 5-page segments and writing some skeleton tests. But have I been able to actually write the material? No.

Last week, I finally churned out the first of the six sections. (I had a meeting and had to have something to prove I was actually working! :) What I ended up with was pretty good, but also written on the level of a senior in high school, when I'm supposed to be writing for 7th graders.

(As a side note, I was involved in a little skit at a teen girl's activity on Saturday. I was playing the part of a self-centered author who realizes that her book is an absolute failure and full of bad advice. Ironically, as I was 'in character', banging my head against the table and saying, "Stupid, stupid idea"...I was actually thinking about that first of six sections that I wrote the day before. Ha!)

So this past week has helped me take a step back and reassess some things. How do you write a history course for 7th graders? In particular, how do you take something like Baptist History, with all its controversy and deeper subjects, and present it in a way that will be interesting and understandable to a 7th grader? There's a lot of terms, a lot of doctrinal issues, and a lot of sketchy information. It's not impossible, but I think I've been coming at it completely wrong.

I'm determined to finish this thing. I've been thinking about it for so long...it's time to get it over with!!!