Blueberry

 (B.J. calls Nathan that on account of his eyes)

is 6 months old today.

Still

To say that the past three days have been difficult is an understatement, but I am going to leave it at that.  Those of you who are close to us know the trial that is ours.

Thus far the month of January had proved good to us.  With the end of 2010, B.J. finished his 3-year term as deacon, so he readily employed his new-found "free" time with on-line courses that will bring his teacher's certification up-to-date and extra hours at Jim's Camper – additional income that was intended to give the debt-reduction plan a boost.  I had been feeling especially joyful in the Lord - spending each morning in His Word made me eager to journal, helped me to prioritize my days, and gave me great inner peace.  Enter Thursday.  We learned that on-line courses can wait, that we needed the money for a last-minute plane ticket, not student loans, and that progress to the Celestial City demands more of a pilgrim than rest on the Delectable Mountains, no matter how beautiful the view.  So "a man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).

As I blundered my way through Friday, I clung to Psalm 43.  I came to that Psalm as I prayed with Willem and Marie at breakfast.  It was one of those moments when my grief-stricken heart didn’t have words for the Father, so I used His own, first part of Isaiah 61:10 (that was my memory verse a few months ago)  “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall be joyful in my God,” (then) “God, my exceeding joy.”

When I was finished praying I had to look up where I had gotten the second phrase from because I couldn’t remember the text.  When I found it, Psalm 43 proved more than fitting in its entirety.  I left my Bible open on the table and returned to it throughout the day.  We all need deliverance from this ungodly nation – the world with all of its idolatry, materialism, selfishness, and divorce pervades us in spite of ourselves!  But God is faithful to deliver us from the deceitful men around us – we would be lead astray by their vain philosophies if it were not for the Light of His Word, which leads us to His altar: the cross, and our redemption!  Ultimately, He is our only source of joy.  So, “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.”

               Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side.

               Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

               leave to your God to order and provide;

               in every change God faithful will remain.

               Be still, my soul: your best, your heavenly friend

               through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

               Be still, my soul: your God will undertake

               to guide the future, as in ages past.

               Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;

               all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

               Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know

               the Christ who ruled them while he dwelt below.

               Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on

               when we shall be forever with the Lord,

               when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

               sorrow for forgot, love's purest joys restored.

               Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,

               all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

               Friday came and went and Saturday did as well.  Though three sweet sisters spent part of Saturday with me, last night found me tired, lonely for my husband, and anything but still.  From 4 AM on, I lay in bed awake, cuddling a sleeping Nathan, one phrase running its way again and again through my anguished heart, “For the Lord our God, He is strong save from the arms of death, from the deepest grave..."

Dawn found me starting the woodstove, popping breakfast in the oven, and heading outside to do chores.  The bitter cold took my breath away; the stillness brought another surge of grief to my heart.  As I stood there in my coverall, waiting for Bunny to finish her grain, I felt overwhelmed with the burden of sin and sorrow that this old world brings.  I thought of the four little ones who lay peacefully sleeping the house, and I wondered how the events of the past few days would change their lives, their dad’s life, my life.  Then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I sang through my tears:

              When the morning falls on the farthest hill,
              I will sing His name, I will praise Him still.
              When dark trials come and my heart is filled
              With the weight of doubt, I will praise Him still.

              For the Lord our God, He is strong to save
              From the arms of death, from the deepest grave.
              And He gave us life in His perfect will,
              And by His good grace, I will praise Him still.

And by His good grace, I will praise Him, still.

Hast thou entered

into the treasures of the snow?  (Job 38:22a)

Yes, I'm supposed to watering the dog...but these snowflakes on her water bowl took my breath away!

 

 The cold temps keep our boys busy hauling wood.

Grandpa always said, "When you heat with wood, that wood heats you more than once!"

 As for the girls?  We made this snowman, then I went in (Nathan was cold and it was past supper time).  Leah made a child for the snowman after I went in....

 ...so I took a picture of both of them for her the next morning.

Thank you, Lord, for these quiet winter days...for time spent with loved ones and time to muse on You and Your works!

"It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord..."

Psalm 92:1

Aha!

            For the two years that I attended college, I was an English major.  In addition, one of my work study jobs was tutoring fellow students in English and proofreading papers.  Consequently, I have a habit of continually editing what I write in attempt to express myself as precisely as I can.  This is true even of posts on my blog.  File that.

            Now, an unrelated thought – unrelated for a moment, anyway.  I have always struggled with the concept of submission.  Yep, I writhe under authority – what human doesn’t by nature? - but more than that, I stubbornly refused to comprehend what it means that a wife must submit to her husband.  I can remember drilling one of my aunts prior to marrying B.J.:

            “Give me a concrete example!  If B.J. says, ‘Make spaghetti for supper,’ then I have to make spaghetti for supper?!  But he never talks to me that way!  He won’t boss me like that!”  (My aunt only smirked at me in reply.)

            Fast forward.  Several weeks ago I sat down at my computer and typed up my blog entry from 12.18.10, “Another.”  The second-to-the-last sentence in the second-to-the-last paragraph originally read, “What a privilege and joy to walk my pilgrim way with the man who’s been given to me.”  That sentence bothered me for all of an hour, until I realized what was wrong with it and changed it: “What a privilege and joy to walk my pilgrim way with the man to whom I’ve been given.”

            Aha!  I think that I am catching on…

            Praise Him!

Marie's Matryoshka

 Marie, with her new favorite toy.

Anna, Olga, Varka, Vanda, Nadia and Nina.

(Names from The Littlest Matryoshka by Corinne Demas Bliss.)