Seasons...

The seasons change each ...well.. each season. We have the natural progression of seasons. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. 

Lather Rinse Repeat

The seasons of life, apparently, aren't quite so easy to predict.
The Laundry Pile is in a hard season. 
It's a pressing season.
It's a training season.


I've got some majorly dramatic children. I've got 4 world-changing individuals on my hands. And often they don't get along. It makes life very challenging. J-man is learning to deal with anger and frustrations. Mini-E has to learn not to annoy people to the point of anger. G-man has to know that it's NOT okay to be alone in the middle of a small house filled with 6 people and try to stand in the middle of his room. Mini-Me is just trying to walk on egg shells.


i don't like any of it. It's difficult work. 

The Professor is in a hard place, much like Joseph in Pharoah's prison. The work conditions suck -but unlike Joseph, The Professor doesn't seem to have much favor with the jailor. So that's also to be contended with...as you know, Daddy's mood also effects the household just as much as the mommy's does.

All of this combines into extra work. 
It combines to wear against me, like sandpaper, until I feel fractious and emotionally drained. 


It's just the season and things will get better... They have to because God promised.
Keeping a hold that hope does...well, sometimes my grip seems really slippery. 


It's the season. I'm trying to hang on until it changes. Until that happens, this is really the only form of the phrase "this too shall pass" that I'll take. 


I know it'll pass. I just really want more to hold onto than a cliche.

I giggle...

And i'm not normally a giggler.

I chortle. Chuckle. and just out right laugh...

but I giggle..

I heard from the random conversation game guy.

His infection is healing. His prognosis is good.

=) He is surprised.

I'm not.

I told him, "i prayed for you."

He said, "Thank you."

and that's all that needed to happen. 

I'm sure that's not all that is GOING to happen...but I may not see the rest. 
and I'm okay with that.

Inadequate...

In the game The Professor and I have been playing, you can meet all manner of people. From all over the world. My character has introduced me to some pretty amazing people. 

And some not so amazing. (Just wanted to throw that in there) 


Sometimes, you get random conversations going with random players and they stick with you. Or check up with you, or you them.


"Hey  how's it going!" 


"Congrats on turning 60!"


"Need a new weapon?"


"Make me some bling?"


"where is.... how do I...." Those kind of conversations.'


I struck up a conversation with someone several days ago. I don't remember what started it...excpept that we were in the same place at the same time.


I haven't really talked to him much since then..


Until today. I got an "IM" (Instant Message) from him... 


"i'm Dying."
 
It's a game. Sometimes you can stand there and watch your character die and not do much about it. So I was empathetic. I wrote back, "I'm sorry."


He said, "yeah, the infection has spread to my bones and I can't go to the dentist."


...


...


...


"Wait." I said, "What? You were serious? You weren't talking about in the game?"


He told me, "dead serious."


Words, at that point, were, literally pointless. What could I say? So I told him, "I'm so very sorry." 


I don't like platitudes. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.


Of course, my first thought was, where is he going when/if he dies? Is he pulling my leg? 


He told me that he planned to get high and die a decent death.


I called The Professor. I needed wisdom. Do I talk salvation with a player? over a chat window? 


How callous does that appear? 


We both agreed that it's doable - but has to be done carefully. 
I couldn't see him. He couldn't see me. That connection was important to have in that instance, i think..


Then I realized...I don't have to be there.


My words can change atmospheres.


So I spoke to the situation from where I was knowing God would respond. Knowing that God would send someone to him. Knowing that there would be a battle until an answer was found.

I felt very inadequate. 
There wasn't much else I could do - so It had to be enough... 

The woman with the oil had an inadequate supply that turned out to be more than enough. 
There's hope in that.

Don't Discount Hope...

The importance of hope came home to me once again. I mentioned here, at the end of the post, this:

2010 will not be my favorite year. I don't care what memories we might have - it has been a very, very hard year. 

God seemed so distant then and He probably was - it was  training time, a pruning time, a hard time -- But sitting here NOW, as I blog as I ponder,  I can point to it and say "THERE was God." And "There." 

Because it still comes down to one simple fact...

I still Believe in God.

I can't say as how 2011 has been any better - BUT - I have this statement. 

I still believe in God.

The husband is in a weird situation at work. Imagine if you will, one hamster cage. Inside the hamster cage are little hamster homes. Each home holds a group within the company.

They do not work together, yet they are of the same company.

Trust me when I say the similarities between this company and most churches (and even the body of Christ as a whole) are striking. 

The Professor belonged in one group for years. I'm trying to condense here for the sake of the story -- and it's difficult. There's sooo much. 

We'll go with this: ... suddenly he was no longer in a group. He was given junior engineer work but he's a senior. He has years of experience and knowledge - yet suddenly he was faced with having everything he did questioned by those of lesser years and lesser experience.

In July, he was given the task of going to a local air plane ... place. Where they galvanize the parts. The task was to measure and inspect the building's support beams for structural integrity. My husband, the father of my children, was given a junior engineer's job. Without support. Without help. Without regard to his safety. 


He worked over vats of acid. Under them. He had to have a spotter in several places in the building. They told him that if you feel a burning, don't wonder about it - just run for the showers. 


The foreman offered the wisdom that he might want to buy coveralls, take a shower and change clothes before he left. Oh, don't wash these clothes with your household clothes. 


Then the fun part began. He worked at night. 


Misery must have loved company because a couple of us got sick with head colds during that time. 


One interesting thing that happened was a contact from a recruiter. Someone who carefully spoke to the professor, knowing that my professor was employed. 


Professor was impressed with how the head hunter handled himself and the situation. He was impressed with the opportunity that was suddenly presented to him. It was a place that appeared to be built for him.


He told me, with vats of acid in his future, "I have hope."


This was huge for us. The professor has been looking for another place of employment for sometime now. The market in his field is ... well ... there's not many looking for his particular skillset. And he's got skills.


And if he does find someone who does want his skills - they don't want to pay him. Which actually equals to the same thing. 


I was struck by how important it was. Hope at that very dark moment. 

As we've progressed through this - we've progressed and then stalled out.
Then progressed a little bit and .....


it's like playing red light- green light.  In real life. For Life.


But there's hope. 
We can't discount hope.  Hope is what keeps us moving forward.
Hope is what keeps my husband going to work where it's obvious he's unwanted and unappreciated.
Hope keeps me knowing that while things around me are not right.... they won't always stay that way. 


Hope.
I'm a fan.

I don't suck...

As a mom, it's a constant struggle to not look on the failures of my children and not take them on as my own. Failures like:

-- lacking the maturity to realize that if books fall on your brother's head from the height of a door frame (no matter how innocent the prank) His head will hurt and he will scream and you will get in trouble.

-- Bickering.

-- If you start wrestling with your brothers, and you are a girl, you're liable to get hurt. Don't start something you can't finish. And if you're a brother, and I see you double team the sister who started the wrestling match -- You will get in trouble. Just sayin'.

-- Bickering

-- Arguing instead of obedience.

You know -- those sort of failures. They really are failures of a sort. They know better. A wise woman told me that 'these kids are learning how to interact with the world by interacting with each other.' 

oh -- goodie.

Apparently, I need to segment the world into four distinct parts and let them communicate with red phones and war threats. 

Along with the normal, average mom stuff, I have the distinction to add homeschooling to the mix. Talk about egg shells there.

"What do you mean you don't know what a noun is??"

"YES! You have to do that writing assignment."

"No - A 't' does not make the 'n' sound." 

Since that's not just enough for me ... I get to add the neurosis of being a writer/creative type to the mix. 

Fine is often a key word. "Freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional". We writer types, or maybe it's just me, need to have some ego boosts now and again. I have a few extra special friends who'll stroke my ego - realistically - should the need arise. (I'd know if it's fake)(at least I'm fairly certain I would.) (grrr)

All three of those things makes me me. It also explains why I tend to run away. (Oh, wait, that's the prophet in me, apparently. So that just adds ONE More facet of my character.) 

It's a darn good thing I'm easily amused and that I mostly like myself.

Otherwise, I'd be in serious trouble and be a serious mess.

Generally speaking, I'm a pretty well held together individual. Though - some days, One or more of my many facets can crack and I get 'Fine'. (See above)

On the really bad days?? Oh, never mind. Just think "blue" and you got it.

I read about putting together an "I don't suck file". I can't remember where I read it - but I followed the link to Christi Corbett's blog. AHA!!! A fellow writer!! Ms. Corbett wrote a fantastic article about her "You don't suck" file. I need such a file.

For each of my many facets, I need this encouragement. 

For the mommy part of me, I'd make a note about the sweet things the kids did to help each other. I'd make a note about the moments they make me smile. That they show a glimmer of 'kindness'. Or what other people might have said about them.

For the teacher in me, I could save something that they've achieved. A moment in school where they've gotten it. Of course, like today, it would be hard to capture a moment. Watching G-man run back and forth from his history book to the map to track the progress of the pilgrims. 

But i could write it down. 

For the writer in me, of course, I'd keep the notes friends write me even here on my blog. These things are not for ego, these are moments, lifelines to encourage us to keep going.

We all need those cheerleaders ... and sometimes, we just need to be reminded that we're more than fine...and that we don't suck. 

I'm starting mine. 
Let me know if you start one, too.

Desiring Faith

If you read the Bible at all you know the concept as laid out in Matt. 19:14. It's an oft touted concept ... the faith of a child.

It's a faith so simple that anything is possible. It's the adult in us, the life experiences that we live through (how else do you get experience?) and really, the fact that we try to reason in our own minds that creates a more complex faith. Our emotions lie to us. Our thoughts betray us. We believe one way and we might not see the answer because the way God answered isn't how we perceived the end result.

Which ... that goes back to our thoughts and emotions getting the better of us.

The last few days, in living through an emotional time here in the Laundry Pile, I've been contemplating the faith of my children.

Do we sit around and have devotionals every morning?? Nope. I can't even claim that we do them weekly.

Heck. I don't remember the last time I picked up a devotional.

However, we talk about God. We experience God. We worship God.  Those tangible things have been building in my children a faith that I am envious to have for myself.

I can take no credit. It is not something taught. It has all been learned.

During this past month, I have struggled with my writing. I've struggled with my self-perceptions and self-image. I have struggled through thoughts that seemed slippery and un-tamable.

Through it all, I've been looking for that weapon to use to fight back. I know what God says. But I needed something tangible for NOW. Not something I could flippantly spout off...I knew that wasn't going to work. As I hunted for this weapon, I pondered the faith of my children.

I fell in the shower. It was a weird thing. I fell and hurt my back against that thing that I think is supposed to be a seat. Or a shelf. If it had been sharp or even square-edged, I'd probably have cut myself or done some serious damage. I *FELT* how it hit. It took me a second to find my footing and get up. I'm a bit cumbersome. Especially when slippery.

Mini-E came up to me after I emerged from the shower. She'd heard the noise and wanted to check on me. By the way, she's five now. I told her that I'd fallen and I hit my back. She asked if she could pray for my body - and not one to miss the opportunity of a moment with Holy Spirit, I said yes. She pressed several tiny fingers against the exact spot I hit in the shower and prayed for me. "Jesus, please heal mommy's body." It was that simple and that sincere. It touched my heart. (Where two or  more are gathered and all that.)

I want that sort of faith. Where my FIRST response is to speak God's power.

Last year, I submitted my first manuscript to an agent. His automated e-mail told me that it would be up to a year before I heard from him, depending on his work load. Fine. I waited. Somewhere in the middle of that time, someone asked if they could read the story. So I sent it to them. They could not open the same file. I didn't think much of it - thought the systems weren't compatible. But it niggled in the back of my mind. So I finally tried to open the file to discover I had sent the agent a corrupted file. Somewhere in the conversion from one software to another, the file was corrupted and unreadable. The agent never let me know. I suppose, he just didn't want to waste his time on it. That's fine. I decided he probably wasn't going to do me much good, anyway.

The point of it all was, and still is, the children.

"Mom, have you heard from your agent?"

"YOUR" agent.

Not 'the' agent.

These children have been a constant encouragement to me as a person. ... as a waiting writer. I want that kind of faith. I'm still searching for an agent - and they're still encouraging me.

--- several people have prophesied into our lives on three different occasions. Separate occasions that God will provide a bigger house for us. Which is excellent. We need a bit more elbow room. (I hope it's not contingent on finding an agent!) (God doesn't need an agent.) (I love that about Him)

We were talking about it one day. Mini-Me overheard The Professor and me talking about moving. It bothers her. She's not so sure she's a fan of change. Except monetary. So we talked about how God promised a bigger house. (I wouldn't have told them... if I didn't trust the sources). J-man was first. He disappeared and came back with a handful of coins. He wanted to give money toward the new house. I prayed over his 'seed money' and It's now sitting on my kitchen window sill... reminding me of his great faith.

I want faith like that.

The faith to simply believe. To not just say -- "But God .."

I want to be like Mary, who said, "Let it be to me as you say"

I want to be like my children -- who don't let thought clutter get in the way of their faith.

It is a desire of my heart.
It's a weapon of warfare.
It is possible. Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be able to walk in it even more.

2011

Edited for more cohesiveness because One should never blog and watch Phineas and Ferb at the same time. It's just not a good, workable combo.

I've been battling fatigue. That's about the only way I can categorize it. I just couldn't seem to get enough sleep and when I did sleep - I was having some wackadoodle dreams. I'm fairly certain I understand the meaning of the dreams - except the one I had last night.

I mean - you watch too many episodes of Hogan's Heroes and you're bound to dream that you're a prisoner in a POW camp trying to get out. BUT when you add a brother into the dream as a traitor, you probably have issues. 

I'm working on it.


I'm also working on not saying, "I'm really tired of the whining..."

Because - you know - I might have actually confessed that over myself.
Still...sleepless nights do not a cohesive mommy make.

Because I haven't been in a write-y sort of mood, I've been wondering what I should write about. You know, as opposed to actually writing it.

Getting the house back to normal hasn't been the fastest after our foray into Christmas. (That being tired thing slows life down quite a bit.) Feeling like I needed to tackle some tasks, I decided to tackle several loads of laundry and the mess that had become my room.

So I announced to the kids, "I'm going to go clean mommy and daddy's room." Mini-E said, "Good luck, Mom. Have fun. See you later."

I laughed the hardest at the "good luck."

As I picked up random socks that have managed to slink under the bed, all the blankets and pillows I did some thinking. What I was doing was cleaning up the mess that happens when the kids play the wii. The end of our bed makes the perfect place for them to sit and play - and the bedding ends up in the floor.

If I made the bed when I got up in the morning, it wouldn't happen. This mess. But I don't like to make my bed. I like it just like I left it. But If I don't make it then the kids mess it up and ...*sigh* It's a catch-22. 

As I was making the bed, I was thinking toward the future. I don't want to go backward to the way things used to be. A bunch of little steps have turned into an interesting journey. But when you're making the little steps, you don't see how far they are actually taking you.

So I considered how much we survived 2011 and I realized:

There is much I want out of 2011. 

For instance:

I want The Professor to have a job where his talents and his skills are appreciated and celebrated - and not squashed, ignored and even frowned upon. 

I want to stop the emotional wars that can seem to come and go, to finally go and stay. It will happen because emotions are unsanctified; but they won't stay that way. 

I want Jack Oy the cat fish to go in and out without injury.

I want there to be joy in the house instead of fights and struggles. (That one may take us longer than the time of 2011)

I really want that agent. If for no other reason than to show myself that I'm not wasting my time. (I have missed sooooo much TV that it's become easier to tell people, "I don't watch TV" than explain to them, "I've made the choice and writing has won.")

Then there are the things that I expect out of 2011.

I expect to move. There. I said it. I'm expecting a move to happen this year. It's going to be a major trust issue with God because I've lived in this particular area forEVER and thinking about moving makes me a little bit uneasy.

I expect to see God move. (ha. Pun.) I expect God to show Himself mighty. Not just bits and pieces here and there...but mighty.

I expect to come out of this last season even stronger than I was going in. 

I expect to be able to walk in confidence but not pride. 

I expect the Professor to get that job. 

2011 is full of lots of days where there is new mercy and new adventures. I want to the ability to enjoy it.

As I was thinking of what I wanted out of 2011, I got to thinking about you. 

What do you want out of 2011?

and the fun continues...

My parents had been renting a house over the past year because of a work situation with my father. Deciding that they could save money by buying another house, they started a search. The location they're needing to live (because my dad can not drive long distances due to a back issue) is just full of misnomers. "By the lake" could mean five miles to the nearest water -- but since they're in the vicinity, the prices are astronomical.

Dad decided on a modular home (See: trailer) that would do them well. It's on just over one acre of land. Most of the land is taken up by over grown fir trees ( I hate fir trees). These have not been tended to in a very long time and vines are growing up in the middle of them...and it's not pretty.


By the way: I'm allergic to Virginia Creeper. 

There was a lot of it inside the fir tree closest to their new house. Did I mention my hatred for fir trees?


Now. the story gets better because once they bought the house, work was to be done on it. They knew there would be work....but they didn't know how much work. And it's not just work ...it turned out to need WORK.


Enter the Professor. 


And because he enters, I'm condensing A LOT! Mainly because the drama that is the new house is not what this story is about ....


This story really is about God's timing. 


Several months back, The Professor had a job interview with a company in Ohio. The interview went well but they were just starting the process at the time of the phone call. However, if they had hired The Professor (which would have been the wise thing for them to do) we would not have been here in THIS state to help my family.


There is no one else to do the work. I have one VERY distant brother ... in another state (mentally and physically) and the closest Brother (Uncle Kickbutt) had his own job shift and has been working ridiculously horrible hours.


For two weeks, two weeks nearly solid, the Professor would pack extra clothes in his trunk and drive from his work to my parents house and help work on the floor and plumbing. Getting ready for the move. 


My dad did the sawing and cutting because there was no bending or lifting involved. 


All those two weeks ... the Grace of God was present to handle The Professor's absence.  He is the back up unit for me...the good cop to my bad cop. 


We got the house as ready as could be. Then the Professor went to take a test in the Western most state to further his career - and he was gone for three days. 


God's grace was perfect, there, as well. We knew it was divinely appointed that he take this test now...


If he had changed jobs, we might have had peace - and possibly a pay raise (after five years of nothing) but The Professor would not have had study time, nor would he have learned how NOT to manage a company and, on top of it all, he was able to help my parents.


2010 will not be my favorite year. I don't care what memories we might have - it has been a very, very hard year. 


God seemed so distant then and He probably was - it was  training time, a pruning time, a hard time -- But sitting here NOW, as I blog as I ponder,  I can point to it and say "THERE was God." And "There." 

Because it still comes down to one simple fact...


I still Believe in God.

I see this.....

As hope ....

Project Wear Yellow

Toby is one of the dearest people you'd probably ever want to meet. She makes me smile. She's one of the bloggers I met over at HSB and she's still there. Still inspiring. Still hanging out with me AND!! She has Melrose.

Over in her corner of the blogosphere, Toby has started "Operation Yellow".

Go check it out.

I'll wait.

*Sings to self "Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree...."*

Oh! Welcome back. So whatddya think?

It's not so much a play along sort of thing, though I guess it could be. Playing at Hope might actually result in a rising measure of the stuff. I know. I had a great time Hanging yellow on our tree. My hope grew, my appreciation for God grew, even if we did come slamming down hard the next day. Still, it's a memory in my brain. Such a marking point that when it's no longer rainy (Thank God for the Rain!) I'll replace my soggy paper streamers with new ones.

When it snows, though, I might have to refrain from decorating my snow with yellow. Neighbors might not appreciate it.

Yellow MUMS though!!! oooo Now that's a stroke of brilliance.

I love brilliant strokes.

*blink* *blink*

I'm rambling. Sorry.

I blame the four year old marching through the house pretending she's a trumpet. And the older kids yelling at her to be quiet. Trumpeting four-year-olds are LOUD - in case you wanted to know.

What was I saying? Oh. Yeah. Project Yellow.

We should all take part - there's too many people who really don't have much hope. And if we start talking about Yellow, we might just have an opportunity to talk about WHY We have hope ...and that could be an interesting moment.

Today, I was playing instead of teaching -- and took part in a blogthings quiz. They're my faves because I'm easily amused and they're short. They're not always right - but they're fun. Today - today's answer was perfect for Operation Yellow. And it really did help urge me to write about this today.

Your Inner Color is Yellow

Your Personality: Life's too short not to have fun. Your bright energy brings joy and laughter to those around you. You in Love: A total flirt, you need a lot of freedom to play. But you'll be loyal to that one person who makes you feel safe. Your Career: You love variety in a job, and you probably won't stick with one career. You would make a great professor, writer, or actor.

What's Your Inner Color?

Will you join in?

I'll share my yellow paper with you if you need some.

Yellow in a Tree

My understanding of "yellow" began way back ....Wow. WAAAAAY back in April of '09. Here, if you don't have a "Wayback machine" (I've heard they're hard to find) -- You can visit the first post here.


Well...it's been a continuing learning experience.
I've seen someone who needs hope receive a yellow scarf.
I get a smile everytime I see yellow.

And sometimes..God gives me a yellow kiss.

Sunday night in our little church, through a prophet in the room, God singled out a few people in attendance but then said this is for everyone.

He then said "Hope deferred makes the heart sick. Hope deferred makes the heart sick! I am going to give you all a new infusion of hope."

Well, I loved this. When you're going through a hard season, you need hope in order to be able to press through the chasm between the rock and the hard place. I knew I needed hope.

I woke up on Monday morning I woke up with the chorus "Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree...." in my head. Mostly whenever that happens, that I wake up with a song in my head, it's God. So I thought. "Cool. I like that song." followed by something along the lines of "Weird, God." I didn't really think too much more about it. Except to come back and remember that I'd woken up with that really random song playing in my head. Tuesday I was still thinking about it.

It had my attention. Then I remembered. Yellow is the color for hope. Well. Awesome. How about that??

Wednesday, it still had my attention so I turned on YouTube and looked for the song and played it.
The song is about a man "who's done his time" in prison and it's "been three long years".
Three long years got my attention. For us, here in our laundry pile, it's been three long years.

Of course, you know the story in the song. If you don't - never fear. I'm giving you a link. The crux of it is, he's (the singer) wanting to know if his girl will still "be mine". He's willing to "Stay on the bus, forget about us" if she doesn't tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree. I got to thinking about the story, how God put the song in my heart, the lyrics of being free after three long years and suddenly I wanted to tie a yellow ribbon around our oak tree in the front yard.



Problem was, I didn't have ribbon.
Then I remembered I had string. The boys had made spiderwebs all over the house with all my yarn, but there was still a blob of yellow.

So we hung yarn trailers here and there on the branches. BUT ... I wanted to do more. Melody and I made paper chains and hung them. I made circles to hang from the bottom branches under the tree canopy. The neighbor kids came to ask what we were doing so I told them:

Well - yellow is the color of hope and I decided we needed some more Yellow!!

Last night, I bought more yellow construction paper. This morning I received a phone call. Someone I know, love and Trust said, "Don't you see? God was asking you 'Do you still want me?!' and you responded and then you responded more."

Last night I had a dream there was frost on the ground she said, "That wasn't frost!! That was MANNA!!"

Squeeeee!!!

There were other things in my dream that made me discount it - but now -- now I just want to hang more yellow stuff. That paper I boght last night?? It will be put to good use!!!

It's been three long years - God still loves me. (Pictures at the bottom!)

If you want to sing along:

Our oak tree in the front yard

Festooned with yellow!

Tried to get all sides of the tree before we ran out of paper ...

I like the contrast!

Under the canopy of the tree, I thought that it would be fun to hang ornaments. so I made my own.

It really made me happy!

We had a Breeze!!!! it was 110degrees but we had a breeze!!!

Yellow on a tree

And that's one more lesson in Yellow.
I've never had a favorite color - there's just too many to choose from.

but I'm reconsidering it.

Had to buy it.

It's the right length.
It's the right size.

and it's YELLOW!!!
I never thought I'd own anything yellow. I have an olive complexion that has faired out a bit. Growing up, I never looked good in yellow.

But I am so enthralled with hope - and the color of it that I kept an eye out for yellow. Not a pale, pasty yellow, either.

When I saw this -- I had to have it.

And I'm very glad!
Just seeing the yellow reflect in the window of the van this morning made me smile.

Hope - for His Glory

This concept of Hope has gripped me like no other thing has...or at least not lately.

Hope.

I have an amazing upright cabinet grand piano. It was left in one of my grandmother's rent houses when I was a kid, and it was given to me. Because I had no piano and my cousins did (just to explain why I got it instead of any one else).

I got him when I was 10 or 12. I can't remember which. I took a few lessons and then quit. I didn't like counting and my teacher wanted me to count. I liked it better if I could play like "This" ...let's hold this note out instead. Shorten this one...

Sigh. I ended up quitting - and she ended up going to college. She's my cousin, by the way.

Let me back up just a skosh. The man who came to tune the piano when we first got it - is a genius. He never learned to play by note - he learned to play by following around a piano tuner. He watched the piano tuner play and learned the intervals. He also had (and still does) have a love for player pianos. His heart's desire is to have a museum.

My Piano Man, like many geniuses, is very quirky. He's often late. He's often broke. But he's always a genius when it comes to tuning.

He tuned the piano up to and right after The Professor and I got married. After the Professor and I got married, he traveled up to us (an hour drive) and even replaced the "ivory" on the keys. They look great.

Then we had babies and we moved. And I heard that my Piano Man had moved out of state.
I was busy with babies. And then, When I did play, they wanted to pound, too. That didn't quite work out well. Pounding on something over 100 years old isn't very nice. and it's hard to play along when that happens.

The cover stayed shut on the piano for far too long.

A couple of times, I would venture a phone call to a piano tuner and would get the same message. The same, "Well, if it's that old ... "

Then I went in to the music store to buy a tambourine. They had pianos. I sat down at a grand and tried not to drool. I had to have my piano tuned. It was time. I called a guy that advertised himself as a piano restorer. Great!!

He took a look at my piano and came up with a shopping list of things that were wrong with Him.
Hmph.
I wanted my Piano Man back. He KNOWS my piano's SOUL. I called his mom just to see if he was in the state. He was. :-)

I got in touch -- and he told me that he would love to come out. We talked.
He told me about a fall on the ice that he had that had wrecked some discs in his neck causing his hands to go numb. While listening to this story, my heart was moved.

Piano Man's passion is playing the piano. Not to be able to play?
Holy Spirit quoted, "He was moved with compassion and healed them."

We set a time. We were disconnected when his phone went dead.
I was excited.
He didn't show. I tried calling - but couldn't get through.
He called me.

We set another time.
He came out.
He looked at Maestro, for that is his name, and determined him to be in excellent shape for his age. He had some spare parts in his garage from restoring old pianos. Maestro would be good to go.

He told me again about his neck. I told him, "I've been wanting to pray over you."
My big kids and I gathered around him and prayed.
We decreed life!
The presence of God fell on him. He could feel the warmth of the healing touch.
I'm just giggly with God.
We got to a point where it was good to stop praying and he went back to work.
He told Mini-Me, that he and the piano might just be healed at the same time.
*giggle*

HOPE!!!!

Late,r as we chatted about family, He would flex his fingers. Move his shoulders, Testing the motion. I watched, fully expecting him to be healed. I believe it was God's timing that this all took place - because it's about Hope. and Hope for HIS glory.

He brought the spare parts today -- and some glue.
He told me that he was doing some work over the weekend and could feel his tools in his hands, where before he could not.

*Squeal of glee*

We prayed over him again. Decreed a finisher's anointing that he would be completely healed.
God spoke a word over him -- a word of HOPE!

It is such a sweet, sweet thing, this hope.

It's HOPE --- all for His glory.
Hope to draw people unto Himself.
Hope - just so He can show Himself faithful and true.
Hope - because, I really think, He likes to show off.

Hope.
I am sooo thankful for Grace, but I'm beginning to cherish Hope.
Because today in my living room, God gave my Piano Man Hope.

Hope and the color Yellow

When she's not blogging about her deep love of words and thoughts, her wonderful kids, or even spinning the world and making me dizzy, Toby at CarpeBanana is dreaming.

She had one dream not that long ago that has latched on to me in such a way, I know that Holy Spirit was talking to her, and through her - to me.

In this post back in February, Toby wrote the following:

I woke up from a dream about how no one wears yellow. What's wrong with yellow? So I actually had to dig around in a box in the basement with clothes saved for messy jobs to get out my yellow sweatshirt.

I remember looking at that and thinking that's a weird thing to remember from a dream. The wording of it got me. I began to wonder what yellow stands for prophetically. So I got out my color resource. From the list I had of the prophetic significance of yellow, three things popped out at me, hope, joy, light.

Really, though, it's hope that has stuck with me. Yellow symbolizes Hope.

She woke up from her dream wondering why no one wears yellow any more.
No one wears yellow because they are hopeless.

She went and put on her yellow sweatshirt. I think that is significant. She got up and made a choice. She put on her yellow, she put on hope.

Whenever I see people wearing yellow, I want to tell them "You're wearing hope."

Now, yellow is also the color that signifies light. Light pierces the darkness.

At church, we lit candles as a prophetic act of God's light reclaiming what has been stolen.
With the lights dimmed, I looked at that flame in the tiny candle. My heart reached out in wonder and Holy Spirit reminded me of Toby's dream.

Hope.

It's not a simple thing.
Hope is powerful.
It can bring life.
It can set captives free.
It can urge warriors to fight.

There are those that don't have that hope.
Even among believers, who have THE Hope.
What happens if we have no hope?
The antonyms of the word say it best: despair, disbelief, and discouragement.
Hope is optimism. If you have no optimism, life is bleak.

If we haven't hope in this current season in life, we are going to be pretty pitiful when God wants us to be powerful.

Do you have hope??
Are you wearing it so others can see it?
Are you willing to share?

Each of our worlds look different. Some would call it our sphere of influence -- but that's where we carry our hope.
We must share our hope ...
We must be willing to speak life.
To decree freedom.
Because that's what we're called to do. And we can't do it, if we have no hope.