One of the things I find most annoying about my relationship with God is the method of communication God uses. As many times as I have begged for a flashing neon sign or shouts through a megaphone to give me directions - and trust me, I’ve begged - God has never once used either of those things to guide me. No no, God prefers a little whisper or a gentle tug on my heart strings, both of which are much more difficult to notice in the midst of the chaos of everyday life. Doesn’t God know how busy I am? Doesn’t God know how much quicker I would be to respond if the messages were a little more grandiose?

If you have 20/20 vision, congratulations! You have avoided the pain of an eyelash sticking to your contact and scraping against your eyelid (or really any foreign object fighting your contact); it doesn’t feel awesome… You have also avoided the conundrum of wearing glasses with a mask, where you have to decide which is worse: fogging over the glasses with every exhale, or being out of breath from trying to breathe shallowly enough so as not to fog over the glasses, and you can forget about trying to speak a syllable without fogging up completely.

How is it with your soul today, dear friend?

Still full from Thanksgiving dinner? Weary from the pandemic that may have kept you from gathering with your loved ones? Anxious about what Christmas will look like this year? Wondering how this Christmas season will bring the hope, joy, love, and peace that we always expect this time of year?

Me too… and with a deep breath I ask again, how is it with your soul?

Have you read Zechariah? I knew I had cause in seminary I’ve had to read all of scripture. In seminary you are reading so much of it, so quickly, only big major things really stick in your memory. A couple of weeks ago, I felt yet another conviction in my life to be more intentional with my quiet times - thanks to Christie Robbins and my friend Mallorie. Weirdly enough, I settled on reading Zechariah not really knowing what it was about.

I laughed as I read the first title “A Call to return to the Lord.” I thought, “Ok Jesus, I see you. I know you’re calling me.”

A few months ago, I had to take some time off from working at my new job as the Associate Pastor of Congregational Care here at Arborlawn in order to focus on my health. I was also on some medication that caused me to dream wildly and vividly, something I do not normally experience on a regular basis.

A few days ago an older man stopped me in the grocery store today to ask how tall I was. When I told him, he (no joke) said, "Dang. You have a hard time finding a husband?' I plastered a smile on my face and said ‘Nope!’. I walked away, with him shaking his head in disbelief.

When I get scared, I turn into a turtle. A turtle who creates their own darkness by hiding in their shell. I cry our to God “Why did you turn off the lights and take the stars?! That seems like a bit much… I’m lost… help.” I stay in my shell and I pretend that there is no way out. I hang up my own fake stars to worship I continue to read scripture and pray I just do those things with blind eyes and deaf ears. I act like I am fine, and everything is normal.

I had a hard time deciding how I wanted to spend my life. I tried several different occupations, was successful, but not satisfied. As I was going to bed one evening, I prayed that God might speak to me in my sleep, and I confessed that my days are filled with the noise of the world, and I thought sleep would offer the best chance to hear from God.

My heart wants to go home. Home is Kansas City where my parents still live in the house where I grew up. Home is beautiful maple trees full of red and yellow and orange leaves. Home is vegetable beef soup and cornbread. Home is playing 42 at the kitchen table. Home is laughing hysterically with my sister over silly things. My heart wants to go home.

Several weeks ago, on a Friday lunch date (sans kiddos) with my husband Joel, our conversation turned to what many of us have been discussing recently: the level of division in our country. My husband sighed and remarked, “I did not put on the uniform and fight in a war for people to treat each other this way.”

I went home early on Thursday, because Brenda was having a medical test and she wasn’t supposed to drive herself. I got home a few minutes early and sat down in my favorite chair. And Little Tiger jumped up in my lap. This is unusual. Little Tiger is Brenda’s cat. He tolerates me, because he knows we share the same house and I’m coming home every night whether he likes it or not. But he’s not overly affectionate towards me. I am reminded of this every time he hisses me.

When I looked at this photo of my boys my wife sent me the other day, I immediately did two things. I completely forgot about what I was doing and cherished them, and I also thought what must be going through each of their minds? My youngest son seems to be looking to his big brother, watching for what he is going to do next, while big brother looks completely puzzled.

There are times that life is so heavy you don’t know how to climb out of the hole. My family had weeks like this during the summer.

One week we had to put our beloved 14 year old German Shepherd to sleep. The next week a close family friend passed away. Then the riots against police where my husband and police officers were receiving death threats and some of our police friends were sleeping in upstairs beds to avoid the rocks being thrown in their windows at night. The anxiety, sadness and despair I was feeling was getting to be too much. I felt like I was never going to see happiness again. Then some dreaded news was given to us. After months of testing the doctor confirmed that my mother had Alzheimer’s.

I moved to Ft Worth about 6 weeks ago and one of my favorite things about my apartment is

my access to the river. I live in a building on the banks of the Clearfork of the Trinity and only

have to walk about 25 feet from my front door to have access to the Trinity Trails system and

the river itself.

But my love for the river pales in comparison to that of my dog. He loves our walks on the trails,

greeting the other dogs and people out exercising, chasing the squirrels running beneath the

large trees growing on the banks, or just watching the cranes and herons that come to catch

fish. We both love it because of the activity that goes on around it

“Little by little the look of the country changes because of the men we admire. You're just

going to have to make up your own mind one day about what's right and wrong.”

This quote is from a movie from 1963 entitled Hud, starring Paul Newman and Melvyn

Douglas. The quote is from the family’s patriarch who is slowly losing his ranch and his

cattle due to a disease and a crooked, changing world, and he is trying to instill wisdom into

his grandson. I have watched this movie for the past 15 years, and it is a gritty, cold story

of a broken family becoming increasingly torn apart. Throughout my viewings of this film, I

have gone from appreciating how cool Paul Newman’s character is, to understanding how

crooked he is and recognizing a similar broken world in real life.

We moved into our house about six years ago. I always go around and meet our neighbors wherever we have lived. For two reasons - I like to know my neighbors and I am married to a police officer and there are always police stopping by my house. I feel like it is a good idea to let our new neighbors know we are on the up and up.

“Hey y’all! Kris and I have been married for 10 years, we are passionate followers of Jesus, and this year it looks like we’re voting for different presidential candidates. Are we bothered by this? Nah. Not at all. We enjoy discussing issues that are important to us and sometimes we don’t agree on which leader is the right one to get the job done.”

One of my favorite things about hearing young children learning the nuances of language is hearing their cute mistakes when they mispronounce words or mangle phrases. My daughter, Marion, has always loved to tell stories. Even as a toddler, Marion Ruth would weave a yarn or a tall tale in order to entertain herself, or her parents, or her most adoring fan, her younger brother Tom. When she was a little girl, her favorite way to begin a story was with the following phrase: "One OLD night..."

Joel and I thought it was the cutest thing we had ever heard. Privately, we wondered how a night got old...and what happened when a night got old, and how did an OLD night differ from a NEW night, or a MIDDLE-AGED night. But mostly, we wondered what was going on in that pretty, cute, creative, smart, curly-haired head.

I belong to a FB support group for parents who have lost children to cancer. Last night, a broken hearted Momma introduced herself to the group and asked for advice about a few things as her young child's battle with cancer is coming to a close and Hospice care is beginning.

One thing she asked about was if she should tell her child that they were dying. Of the many things that parents who have not lost a child "can't imagine," this decision is especially brutal. It is a question and decision that haunts every parent who has walked this horrifying path.

In writing the US Constitution, the authors aspired to create a "more perfect union." At the time of the writing, those words helped develop better cooperation, communication, and cooperation between the original 13 states. The notion of "a more perfect union" expanded as new states were formed, and new people came to find new life in the USA. Our union has undoubtedly grown.