My old youth pastor from 30 years ago. I have no idea why he stormed into my thoughts tonight when I prayed to You. His name was Todd. Among other times and places… At the beach youth group retreat, we tried to dunk him, and somehow he kept his hair dry in the ocean, declaring “No one can take The Big Kahuna!”
I’m worried about him tonight. No idea why. Couldn’t care less. Please be with him and his family.
Please be with dad, as he prepares for back surgery tomorrow. With mom, as she puts her sanity on the line taking care of him…😂
…and please be with Crow. Fill her with your warmth and Your presence. Your comfort. Help her find Your Mighty Fortress and seek Your protection from the ravages of this world, our mistakes, and find resolve in choosing You to fill her heart with life, love, and joy.
And for whatever reason Todd hit my thoughts today night, please be with him and his family.
That sarcastic asshole in you… the one that vanished when she was around? She barely met him.
The Holy Sprit kept him at bay when she was around. Was the weirdest feeling.
Those kind of feelings just… evaporated around her. When you were around her, she calmed you. Her presence almost always quelled any anger you held towards her.
Nervousness and being in love explained some of it. But not all. Even today… you can’t be mad. Can’t find any satisfaction in her situation. None. You hurt for her.
In retrospect… it’s what you prayed for, long ago. When you needed resolve in front of her, it was the Holy Sprit that filled you. Even she felt it protecting you when she handed back the class ring.
And here… now… it’s almost like she’d fished for that bastard. She knows you well enough to know he’s in there, and could give her one living hell of an intervention.
No. Period. (Somehow) And you can’t explain how… other than Him. Maybe if you were meant to have a different role in her life? Who knows.
Not gonna lie. This freaking woman. Spiritually you’re chained to her in ways you’ve never been comfortable with, but still felt so naturally…
She doesn’t need an ‘intervention’ from you.
You’ve actually thought that in the past, but no… that was always your own anger. Probably why He did such a good job hemming all that in.
So what does she need?
From you? Prayer. Nothing more.
Otherwise? To learn from her mistakes. To add those scars to her soul and be the stronger for it. To carry lessons forward into whatever the next part of her life will be, learn from them and grow even stronger.
That strength. That power. That passion. In her – it exists for a reason – one you can’t explain. It was meant for so much more than the trouble it’s caused her.
That Sunday. In November 2021. In Albion. The only time you ever sang with her in God’s house…
You hate that you can’t remember for certain… but you swear up and down this is what you sang along with her and her mother.
Every time you hear it… it just reminds you of that morning.
Typical self-centered only child… making it about you. 😔
Well… yeah… it’s one of your flaws. And that’s okay – if you’re aware of it so you can work to overcome it.
It’s okay.
It’s all okay.
Listen to Him. HIM. Not what you want Him to say…
Him.
You listened to ‘Him’ say some things were ‘meant to be’. How much of that was “Him” with a “you” accent? Turns out… yeah. A lot of it.
We so easily turn to “Him” and somehow hear what *we* want to hear.
It can’t be that way anymore.
Because it’s time.
Time to Be More.
For all of us.
To grow.
In His Purpose.
Macanudo tomorrow night.
Then Accounts Receivable Monday. Books and books. Activity. Jogging. Getting out there.
FIGHTING. FOR ALL THAT ACTUALLY, REALLY MATTERS.
Demons of Your Laziness. Her Self-Destruction. Your Complacency. Her Narcissism. And ANYTHING ELSE NEEDED TO COVER EVERY BASE…
To Hell with them ALL.
Lord – OPEN THE DOOR TO YOUR WILL IN OUR LIVES. YOURS.
For YOUR purposes.
THANK HIM for her presence in your life, because it has brought you closer to Him.
Lord:
Help her find You. Truly find You. If You can use me, please bless my words. If they do get in Your way, break my fingers so they can’t hurt.
Please forgive my sins. Thank you for my blessings and my trials. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for so many things… I could never even keep track…
May one of three songs be jamming in the background…
#1
Stuck in your head at Grandmama’s funeral years ago. Feel it. The rhythm. The warmth. Feel the loss. The love. Three generations of Blessings you knew before you spiriting you on your way.
A Wonderful Tribute to the crib this world is…
#2
You. What you are without Him. Feel it. Know it. There have been billions worse than you. Vast majority even now are. But stand in front of Jesus and blessed be ya if He laughs as He rolls His eyes at you.
Admit your failures. Your wrongs. Whatever you know of your mistakes, knowing you can’t even remember half of them and how adrift you are without a Jewish Carpenter to save you. Then Laugh. Because He’s laughing with you as He hugs you and welcomes you Home.
#8 (in the hymnal)
Please, let these words and song be what fills your ears as you crawl out of the crib. And for once, in that moment you might be able to hold the tears in.
ROFLMAO good luck. 😂
May 14, 2017. That day in a rough time for you and one Sunday, basking in unemployment and fear, 17 years after the day the sky was the limit, and David cranked up A Mighty Fortress on THAT DAY WHEN IT FELL ON A SUNDAY AGAIN and you couldn’t even sing for crying tears of laughter. You’d never known them before, nor since..
Can’t even describe what they felt like. There’s no way others didn’t notice. No idea, because you couldn’t even care.
If these notes and song are the last on s you hear on this life…
…that would rock. 😂
Though it would be awkward if you were dying and had to hit the repeat button as you waited.…
Wow. That would… yeah. Way to weird yourself out. Now insomnia’s really got ya by the jingle bells… 😂😂😂
You are beautiful, my darling, beautiful beyond words. Your eyes are like doves behind your veil. Your hair falls in waves, like a flock of goats winding down the slopes of Gilead.
Your teeth are as white as sheep, recently shorn and freshly washed. Your smile is flawless, each tooth matched with its twin.
Your lips are like scarlet ribbon; your mouth is inviting. Your cheeks are like rosy pomegranates behind your veil.
Your neck is as beautiful as the tower of David, jeweled with the shields of a thousand heroes.
Your breasts are like two fawns, twin fawns of a gazelle grazing among the lilies.
Before the dawn breezes blow and the night shadows flee, I will hurry to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful, my darling, beautiful in every way.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Come down from Mount Amana, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, where the lions have their dens and leopards live among the hills.
You have captured my heart, my treasure, my bride. You hold it hostage with one glance of your eyes, with a single jewel of your necklace.
Your love delights me, my treasure, my bride. Your love is better than wine, your perfume more fragrant than spices.
Your lips are as sweet as nectar, my bride. Honey and milk are under your tongue. Your clothes are scented like the cedars of Lebanon.
You are my private garden, my treasure, my bride, a secluded spring, a hidden fountain.
Your thighs shelter a paradise of pomegranates with rare spices— henna with nard,
nard and saffron, fragrant calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, and every other lovely spice.
You are a garden fountain, a well of fresh water streaming down from Lebanon’s mountains.
It’s Not a Frame of Mind 