Give Me Your Eyes...

These books keep getting placed into my path. Books that take me out of my reality and place me in a spot that enables my empathy to expand. One of those books that I have read lately is What Difference Do it Make? This is the follow up book to Same Kind of Different As Me.

Continuing the hard-to-believe story of hope and reconciliation, Ron Hall and Denver Moore, "unlikely friends and even unlikelier coauthors--a wealthy fine-art dealer and an illiterate homeless African American--share the hard-to-stop story of how a remarkable woman's love brought them together."

The mark of a good book is one that after closing the cover for the final time, I am changed. I see my world differently because I spent a little time looking through the eyes of someone much different from myself.

Both of these books gave me new insight and compassion for the homeless. They don't need our sympathy--they don't need us to be their rescuer, giving hand-outs when it is convenient. Homeless individuals need relationships that give dignity and point them to hope.

Check it out--and let me know what your thoughts are!!

Rainbow

I really wish I had my camera with me today. I was pulling weeds in some flower beds--it started to rain and I saw the most beautiful rainbow, ever!

Instead of going inside during the rain, I decided to put on a raincoat and stay in the elements.

This is the lesson learned--In order to see a rainbow, you need to stay out in the rain.

I know--it sounds like a hallmark card--all sappy and obvious.

Just realized that if it wasn't for the rain--bad times in our lives, we would never see the rainbow, ie. hope.

So, if you are going through storms--hang in there, the hope is just ready to pop up over the horizon.

Alright--Hallmark moment is over!

Painted Lines and Cement Handprints

Yesterday, as I was running, I noticed that there were orange cones on the middle line on the road. The lines were fresh and dark yellow--they had just been painted.

As I had hit my half way mark, and it was time to turn around to go home, I looked both ways to see if it was okay for me to cross to the other side of the road. While running over the freshly painted lines, I had a quick urge to brush my running shoe across the wet paint--just to see if I could make my mark. Then the next thought--every time I pass this as I am driving, I could see where I had been!

I am very pleased to report that I resisted the urge to mess up the line and create an act of vandalism. But...

Why does my mind work the way it does? Why do I think the things I do?

That made me think about the time when I was kid and was able to press my hand into new cement. Why do we have a desire to do these things?

I think it may be the same reason that a toddler gets naughty and noisy while mom is talking on the phone--and the same reason that a teenage girl gives away more of herself than she intended.

God placed in all of us a desire to MATTER. We all want to look upon this work and say--"I existed, I was loved, I mattered, I had a purpose--I was HERE."

God must have placed that desire in us so we would search for Him. Because it is only through Him that we find our purpose. It is through Him that we feel special and chosen.

I can still feel those butterflies in my stomach as I waited to see when I would be picked in gym class and whose team I would be on. Nobody wanted to be that default team member that had to be picked--just because they were the only one left. (Gym teachers--Please find a different way for team picking!!)

The good news that I am thinking on today is that I matter, and you matter, too. I have been chosen and I am accepted--and that acceptance does not depend on anything I have or haven't done on this earth. Unconditional love and acceptance is a good gift from my Father!

The LOOK

I find this really funny. Just a little laughter for the day!

Religion or Relationship?

Once again, I must confess, I have been feeling rather dry in my walk with God. Going through the motions--praying, reading my Bible, going to church, etc. Those things are all good disciplines, but it is all about my attitude and my motives.

Why am I doing what I am doing?

If I am engaging in these routines because of a sense of duty, have to-ness it becomes nothing more than religion.

If I am spending time with God through His Word and prayer because of the love that He has for me and that I then can have for Him it is about a relationship with the Creator of the Universe.

Checking my motives and reasons for doing what I am doing...

I found this poem on another's blog--kind of summed it all up for me.


Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.


Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.


Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
[Sir Francis Drake)

Fearless

The earliest memories I have as a child involved fear. It had a stronghold on me for many years--paralyzing my thoughts and actions and keeping me at arms length from those that loved me--especially my God.

Here are some quotes from Max Lucado's newest book, Fearless.

"Fear may fill our world, but it doesn't have to fill our hearts. It will always knock on the door. Just don't invite it in for dinner ... Let's embolden our hearts with a select number of Jesus' "do not fear' statements."

"We can fear less tomorrow than we do today."

"Fear, mismanaged, leads to sin. Sin leads to hiding. Since we've all sinned, we all hide, bot in bushes, but in eighty-hour workweeks, temper tantrums, and religious busyness. We avoid contact with God."

"Parents, we can't protect children from every threat in life, but we can take them to the Source of life. We can entrust our kids to Christ."

Fear doesn't have the same hold over me that it did as a child, teen, young adult, wife and mother of three little ones, then mother of teens--at times it can come blasting back, full force in an avalanche of anxiety, but if I take my eyes off the source of my worry, and put them on the Source of my strength, everything falls into proper perspective. This may well be why Romans 8:28 is my favorite verse in the Bible.

Higher Hope--Book Review

This has not been a summer of reading--and I have really missed laying on the deck, in my hammock with a good book, but because we ended up driving 20 hours during this weekend taking Kyle to and from school, I finally finished my book for the book review bloggers. Higher Hope, by Robert Whitlow, is the 2nd book in the series, A Tides of Truth.

Written "in the tradition of John Grisham, combining compelling legal and ethical plot lines...but Whitlow has explicit spiritual themes."

Following a young legal clerk, Tami Taylor struggles with the legalistic religion that she experienced at home as it conflicts with the grace, mercy and hope that relationship with God offers.

To tell you the truth, I didn't care for this book at all. The legal drama seemed to drag, leaving the plot uninteresting, and I found the characters underdeveloped and simplistic. I really didn't care about them--and I never found myself lost in the pages, as I do when I am really enjoying a book.

Just my opinion...

One Team

Ok--I have a few more posts on Kenya that still need to be written. (Maybe more--I am not making any promises!)



While talking to a teenager at Vipingo, I asked her what were her impressions and thoughts on Americans. She said that she thought that they were all very good people. I quickly set her straight.



While in Kenya, most of the children wanted to be close to us, and all the time we were driving around the cities, I rarely viewed any animosity on people's faces as the "van full of white people" drove by.



I suppose most of the children saw us--and then made a judgement on Americans--in general. So I guess in some ways we were ambassadors for USA.



I wish and hope it was different than that, though. I really pray that when the children played with us and received the love that we gave them that we were able to represent Jesus. I would much rather be an ambassador for Christ.



I do pray that some day, maybe when these children are much older, that they can look back at memories of the visitors that came to their school--and they won't think of them as 'white people', or even 'Americans', but as Christians.



One of the Kenyan pastors--maybe it was Pastor John, but I am not sure, said that he hoped that the children would stop seeing the different color of the skin, but see only one race--the human race. I wish the same for children in America.



The schools and churches that have been built by Fox River Christian Church are staffed by passionate, Kenyan Christians who are awesome ambassadors for Jesus. It was wonderful to be working with them--side by side--on the same team, if only for a few weeks.

Sweet 16

Our youngest had her 'Sweet 16th' birthday on Friday. (She will always be Sweet Pea to her dad.) Where does the time go--and to all you young people reading this--yes, time does fly faster the older you get. I have a scientific reason all figured out--I'll explain it sometime, but it has to do with the more years you are alive and how everything is relative! Anyways...


I believe that it is a really good exercise, especially with my kids, to study them--I mean really know them and look for their good, super cool attributes. Hannah is a one of a kind--really passionate for God and for those less fortunate.

She loves serving at the food pantry and painting nails for the ladies at the nursing home. She told me once that she just wanted to 'make a difference' in this world, and that that might include missions.

She especially has a heart for the Rapha House, which is a home for girls in Cambodia that have been rescued from sex trafficking. Check out their website--Rapha House.

Hannah has always had her own style--and has always known exactly what that is. She has been working on painting her ceiling. That was a lot of squares-- and she's almost done!




Anyways--Happy Birthday, Hannah. Love you. Mom

Teaching to Play

While in Kenya, we visited our schools, and when we did, we saw such joy and happiness. Children playing--and other than the dirt playground, school rooms without glass in the windows, and village children watching longingly from the distance, we could have been somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin in a middle class graded school.




The common denominator is that kids are kids--and when given the opportunity for nourishment, protection and love, kids play and laugh the same everywhere in the world.

A light bulb moment for me was realizing that not all kids play. Children who are worried about where their next meal is coming from do not play.

Children who are worried about the physical health--life and death needs--of their parents do not play.

Children who have adult responsibilities, like 'mothering' siblings, searching for food and carrying water for miles do not have time to play.

In our schools, I saw children playing. In the villages, I did not see children playing.

One of my prayers at Bomani and Vipingo during the celebration days was that when the adults watched us visitors running, chasing, tickling, laughing with their children that they too would realize that playing with their kids shows them that they are loved.



I can't condemn Kenyan adults for not playing with their kids--you see, they were never played with, either. How are they supposed to know if they never experienced?

Occasionally, while playing a game of Duck, Duck, Goose or a modified game of Red Light-Green Light, called Stop and Go--I would look over at the adults as they watched the strange white people laughing while Kenyan children climbed and clamored to hold on to a leg or hand, or climb on the back just for the opportunity to be hugged or tickled. As they watched, I witnessed a glimmer of a sparkle in their eyes, and an occasional smile.

I pray that a light bulb went off in their minds--and the idea that playing with their children is a very good thing, for both the child and the adult, alike. While listening to a child laugh, it seems to lighten the load--if not just temporarily.

For me, there is just something about a child laughing that equals hope--and when we hope, we are closer to God.

Pen and Paper

How many pens do you have in your house? I have no idea the answer to that question, and in my house, I am guessing I have an infinite amount. As I am sitting at the computer, there is a purple one on the desk--just a second, let me check on the location of some other ones.

I looked for the last 1 and a half minutes, and I found one by the window seat, one in the coffee table drawer, 9 in the drawer where I keep the phone books/bills/everything else I don't know what to do with, 1 by the phone. That is not even mentioning the pens that I have that are actually where they are supposed to be--the junk bin.

So, I found 12 pens in two rooms of my house--like I said, it would be an infinite amount. Especially since I didn't check the couch cushions or under the sofas or chairs!

I am talking about pens because I have so many, and I have never given them a second thought--that is until I went to Kenya.

My friend Carrie brought pens and pads of paper for the kids to draw on. At the celebration day at Vipingo, many of us spent hours with the kids while they drew a picture with a pen! It was a big deal for them. Can you imagine spending time with kids in the States, and expecting them to care whether or not they could use a pen or not?

I had three pads of paper--three pens and 30 kids, from 2 years old to 20 years, all waiting to take a turn. After they drew their picture, I had them write their name and then I took a picture of them with their creation.

I will keep those pads of paper always, because for me they show such potential and promise. Each drawing is unique. The flowers that Lillian and Snumu drew speak of hope. This is a picture of Snumu and her flower--she wants to be a news broadcaster!

This is Lillian--followed by a letter that she wrote to me. I do believe the letter explains the look in her eyes, and it broke my heart.

This little girl couldn't have been more than three years old, but she had the attention span of a college student. Look at all those flower and all those "e's"! She worked on those for 45 minutes-filling up two pages-maybe not wanting to relinquish the pen. She was a twin and her sister was dressed the same. Check out her doll--it was the only toy I remember any of the children from the villages having. It had no arms or legs, but she clung to it as if it meant everything to her.

Stephen tried to act all tough--but he wanted to draw--but maybe it was more about being noticed and recognized as someone special.

I probably have 50 pictures of the kids with their art work. As I was taking the pictures, I knew it was important. Not sure why--maybe it was to send a message to each one--"You are valued and special--and you have a hope and a future." The message might have been for me because as I look at each photo their personalities and actions come flooding back--and as I look at the photos, I can zoom into the picture, and pray for them by name.

Cameras and Blessings

Kids in Kenya loved my camera. Usually, I had to point and shoot quickly if I saw a picture I wanted to capture, because if I paused, I would have 20 kids with their noses two inches from my lens!

Without any mirrors available, many of the kids were seeing themselves for the first time as I would turn the digital camera around so they could see the picture I just took.

Can you imagine not knowing what you look like? Most of the children would laugh and say the names of the others that they would recognize--and then I would point at their image and say, "That's you!!!" They would respond with a laugh--and many times a shy, embarrassed hiding of their face!

The biggest treat for the kids was having the opportunity to take a picture. I would carefully place the strap around their neck--and usually the first, older child that I had given the instructions to would relay the information to the others--"Look in here--Press this button."

I just take so many things for granted--for example mirrors. I am not sure how many times a day I look into one, and cameras. I am so very thankful that I had one so I can share my pictures with all of you. Not to mention the blessing of this computer to publish my experiences so easily and quickly.

Those items are so superficial when comparing them with my three meals a day--plus snacks, clean water that comes out of a faucet and doesn't need to be carried in a bucket on my head, clean clothes, warm roof over my head, transportation, shoes for my feet, health care for my family, etc. I really could go on and on--maybe one of these posts I will do that.

My eyes have been opened... I just hope they stay opened to all the blessings I have.

See if you can find me in each of these pictures, taken by some budding photographers. It's my little version of "Where's Waldo?"

Names

Before my trip, I had compassion for all those kids in Africa. Now, I have love and compassion for Josiah, Lillian, Lucky, Elvis and Allah and others. It's so much better to know them by name, and when I am praying for them, I am not just reciting a rote, generic prayer for those children 'over there.'

The lyrics to this song kept running through my head while in Kenya.


I have a maker
He knows my heart,
before even time began
My life was in his hands

He knows my name
He knows my every thought,
He sees each tear that falls
and hears me when I call.

God knows my name, and He knows the names of every child in Mombasa, Kenya as well as Every Town, USA.

The names of those children in Kenya are as priceless as their sweet little faces. I would love to share some of those precious ones with you. I will never think about those kids in Africa the same way ever again. He knows their name--and now we do, too!


!

LUCKY




JOSIAH




BILL GATE!




BRENDA



LILLIAN



ELVIS



NICODEMUS

Babies Carrying Babies

The one thing that stands out to me above all others--the pictures that stay in my head and continue to break my heart into tinier and tinier pieces are the ones where children who should be carried themselves are transporting little ones, not more than a couple years younger then themselves.

Check out the pictures...

Two separate days, we split up into groups and ventured into the villages to spread the news about a celebration/outreach day. As we walked, the group of children would grow, and a parade of little Kenyans following big Americans would travel through the mud and thatch houses.

The children would clamor to hold onto a hand, many times settling for a finger--which would give us the privilege of walking with 10 by our side.


As we were walking, Nora noticed two little ones sitting by their house, with no adult in sight. This is what she saw...

Later, as we were walking, she noticed the same little ones walking along side of the group. Barefoot, big sister trudged along, carrying little sister, with eyes that have haunted me ever since. This picture is burned into my heart forever...

>






Finally, Nora offered to help carry the little one.



Big sister never left Nora's side--and as hard as Nora tried, she was never able to get her to smile. The same eyes that you see in these pictures--eyes that tell untold stories that I can not even imagine, eyes that look old and burdened by responsibility stared back at Nora's smiling face.

These are the pictures that I brought back with me from Kenya...

Kenya and Back

Isaiah 41:17-20

"The poor and needy search for water,

but there is none;

their tongues are parched with thirst.

But I the LORD will answer them;

I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them.

I will make rivers flow on barren heights,

and springs within the valleys.

I will turn the desert into pools of water,

and the parched ground into springs.

I will put in the desert

the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle and the olive.

I will set pines in the wasteland,

the fir and the cypress together,

so that people may see and know,

may consider and understand,

that the hand of the LORD has done this,

that the Holy One of Israel has created it.

Our trip to Kenya is behind us, but is forever in my heart. How can I even put the words down to describe the experience? I want to write it all down at once--but that is impossible, so I will trust God that I will be able to express it all, blog by blog!

God teaches me lessons that are lessons that I already thought I had all figured out. It is an ever increasing knowledge--building brick by brick on what He has already taught me.

For example, here is one of those lessons learned in Kenya: Faith, Hope, and Love are the GREATEST gifts that He could give us.

My soul was as parched and hungry as those Kenyans were physically before Jesus came into my life so many years ago. I was as hopeless spiritually as they are physically and spiritually.

I was so honored to be part of the ministry that Fox River Christian Church has in Africa. We are making a difference in a big way--feeding hungry children, educating their minds, but most importantly, feeding their hungry souls.

As we ventured into the villages, I witnessed children carrying babies on their backs, with eyes that told unknown stories of heartache and despair, realizing that this is their life--full of mundanenss, poverty and hopelessness, completely lacking any future or dreams.

I also witnessed children from our schools who were fed a lunch to fill their stomachs, and stories of Jesus's love to fill their souls.

Those children and many of their teachers lived in the same hopeless situation as the others in the village, but because of the FAITH, HOPE and LOVE that they have experienced through Jesus and individuals who love Him, they were able to dream and hope for a future. God has good plans--and in plenty or in want, with Him and the gifts that He gives us, we are blessed.

I have lots to share--thoughts, pictures, etc. I just hope words will do it justice! Stay tuned!

Before Africa--BA

This is what I'm thinking on tonight.

Ever get to a point where you just know that soon you will be walking through a door in your life--and after you walk through that door, you will never be the same?

I have walked through 'doors' that have changed me, but at the time, I thought it was not such a big deal. Maybe that was due to ignorance. Maybe that was due to age or immaturity--or maybe I was just oblivious.

For example, BM--Before Married (No, it's not what you thought!.) Mark and I got married--we drove away to Mackinac Island to begin our life--and life was pretty much never the same--most of the time, in a good way!

We went to the hospital, had a baby, drove home and they forgot to give us an owner's manual--life was never the same. Two more times--same deal, different baby, all together new owner's manual was needed--still, empty handed! Life will never be the same!

College--figured out the party life was not working for me and decided I needed a lot more of Jesus in my life. Life was not the same.

In three days, I leave on a plane, get off and walk through another door. The door to Africa--at that point I assume I will leave a lot of preconceived notions behind. All those stereotypes that have gone along with the word "Africa" since I was a little girl. And I'm hoping that that is not the only things that will be shattered as I get off that plane. I am praying a heart that can many times be hard and protected will be broken--broken by the same things that break God's heart.

Actually, I am hoping that my status quo life may be shakened up a bit--I'll let you know what is different after I walk through that door. One thing for certain, something has to give.

Fireworks

On the 3rd, we made our annual trek to the lakefront to stake out our claim of property for the day. It is actually one of my favorite days of the year--hanging out with friends and family, with no responsibilities other than to wait for the fireworks to begin.

What struck me this year is the contrast of how the fireworks are now, to when they were as a kid back in the '70s.

My family would find some high spot so that we could get a good view, lay down a blanket, spray some mosquito spray and wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Once it began, each display would slowly proceed--with maybe 10 seconds in between each color blast. We really would 'ooooh' and 'ahhhhh' over each one--and we weren't being sarcastic or anything--(Well, maybe when we were teenagers!!) We waited in anticipation for the next one to get shot off.

It's a bit different now--both at the Big Show at the lakefront and the small town display only 5 miles away from home. It is basically a bombardment of fireworks. At times I had to look away in Milwaukee because it was so intense.

Now don't get me wrong, it was an awesome show. But it seems to me, we all appreciate it a little less--it's like we all get spoiled and overloaded with the whole overall show, and fail to appreciate each individual display. (It's hard to do that as they all run together anyways.) Everything always has to be bigger and better. I like bigger and better, but does it prevent me from actually enjoying the show?

Maybe that's how it is with me with life in general. Each minute is blurred by the next. Finish with something--already moved on in my brain to the next thing, and in the meantime, I fail to enjoy the MOMENT.

Trying to enjoy one spectacular, God moment at a time...

A Work In Progress

I come from a long line of fiery women who like to control a situation and have things go their own way. I am not sure how far generationally it goes back, but I am guessing Eve was the one to start it all. I am not saying any of this to be disrespectful in anyway to those that went before me--I picked up the torch all on my own.

I was contemplating this fact this weekend while Mark and I went away to celebrate our 22nd anniversary. As we drove and spent time together, I thought back to previous trips in the years past. A missed turn could cause an argument of "I told you so" or a left behind stake for the tent for camping could have ended up in icy silence.

This weekend, there were a number of times when we each saw something two different ways or heard or understood something differently, something so minute and tiny that could have caused a fight on anniversaries past, and instead, we could laugh it off. I might say something like, "You could be right, of course, I could be right, too!" That little stupid stuff just doesn't matter.

Sometimes too often yet, those little things still matter, and I have a hard time letting go. Forgetting about it, moving on and not seeing things as all or nothing--I am still a work in process as I learn to trust God in all situations and lay down my 'right' to be right.

Jesus was right every moment He walked this earth, and He laid down everything and took it all to the cross.

The least I could do is lay down my need to win an argument and control a situation. 22years later, our marriage is a work in progess!

No Place Like Home

We had a visitor drop by a few days ago, and we named him Howie. Strolling along our driveway, he seemed a bit dazed and confused. When we first saw him, Kyle threw some bird seed down, and he pecked at it warily. A few hours later, Mark and I realized he was still on our front porch and as we walked towards him, the pigeon flew up to the corner of the eaves on our roof. We noticed there was a tag on his leg, and as we couldn't get close enough to read the numbers, I tried taking this picture, with the hopes that I could zoom in and read the digits. No such luck.



Next day, I all but forgot about our friend, went to work, came home only to find Hannah holding the bird, which I soon learned she had named Howie. Nora and Hannah had been feeding him cheerios and had to distract Ellie who had a sudden urge for pointing.

Hannah read off the numbers on the leg band, and Nora googled them and we found out that Howie was a racing pigeon from the Fond Du Lac racing club. After a few phone calls back and forth--and after talking to his owner, we placed him in Ellie's small kennel and waited for him to be picked up.

The pigeons owner explained that Howie was a young bird, born this year, and he had escaped and flew away. He had lost other birds in the past, but had never recovered any, so he was pleased to be able to place Howie in the soft sided, almost luggage like container in the back of his car.

Mark learned that Jim, the bird owner, lets the training birds loose in Madison, and by the time he gets home to Hartland, the birds are waiting for him. Older, more experienced birds fly home from longer trips--each trip involves more mileage. As the bird completes each assignment, the owner's confidence in the bird grows, and longer trips are assigned and accomplished.

Once again, my spiritual life mirrors nature around me. God gives me assignments, at first small in nature, and it is a test. Will I obey--accomplish the task and come back home--looking towards the Lord for direction, for my next test, all the while, growing more like Jesus every day?

I learned that the pigeons interact with humans from the minute they are born, and they learn to associate people with home. This may be why, when we put Howie in the garage while we rounded up Ellie's carrier, the door opened as it wasn't latched properly. Howie promptly came inside the house, and Nora found him walking by the counter in the kitchen! People meant home, and he was desperately looking for his belonging place.

I do believe that we have this innate sense to find home, and home is only found when we have a relationship with our Creator. I have tried to fill that longing with many things, and sometimes when I lose my way, I find myself resorting to old, unhealthy patterns. Relationships, food and acceptance do not take me home. Jesus is where I belong.

Kenya Trip

I find that my natural tendency when going through my days is to live them very carefully. I am not a risk taker by nature--in fact, comfort, security and ease are high on my list. I gravitate towards events that do not take me out of my comfort zone.

All that said, those things do not make me happy and fulfilled. I like to be pushed out of that hum drum life--but only after the fact.

For example, I could easily spend a day lounging around home, watching country videos on YouTube, stalking--I mean checking out friends on Face Book, or googling Jon and Kate to see what the real deal is, etc.

I gravitate towards things that don't take any relational, physical, spiritual or social risk, but I am not fulfilled by these things.

Which brings me to the reason why I am writing this--yesterday it dawned on me that Nora and I are actually going to Kenya in 5 weeks. We have just been working, saving, etc. towards going for so long, that I think I was able to put it on the shelf--you know, the box marked "Kenya Mission Trip"--thinking that I might take it down someday...or I might not.

Well, the 6 shots in the arm are completed, the anti-malarial medicine is bought, the finances have been provided (Thank you, God) and the tickets are in our names.

This is definitely not one of those 'ease of life' activities that falls into where I naturally 'hang out."

The reason that I am not fulfilled when I go through the motions--and don't step out of the comfort level, is that I was not made to live life in this hum drum manner. Living like that requires no faith whatsoever--it's not really living.

So the other day as I realized I was really going to go--God willing--I started feeling a bit of anxiety. Uncertain--unknown makes me nervous. I like to know what to expect. I like to predict how I will react and what feelings I will experience. All that said, I LIKE to live my life that way, but it doesn't make me happy. Does that make any sense to anyone other than me?

I'll keep you posted...