Recently I moved into a new house with some wonderful friends.  I have really love it, the late night talks, the early morning coffee, and the quaint rooms.

Each corner of the house is filled with beautiful, unique, and practical things.  Even though I spent a lot of time at the house before living here, when I moved in it instantly felt like a safe, loving, welcoming house.  Every corner felt this way, except the basement.

The basement is a great place to store extra clothes for the winter, furniture we aren't using, or the odds and ends that don't really belong anywhere else in the house, but you just might need someday.  It also is where the laundry machine is kept, which means I need to go down there every 2 weeks.

The first time I saw the basement I was a little scared.  If you asked my roommate my first reaction was to try to get her to come down with me, so I didn't have to go alone.  It is a spiderwebbed, decaying cement basement filled with many small nooks and different rooms.  She assured me that yes, she too was scared at first, but got used to it and it was fine now.

"You'll get used to it," was what I heard every time I feared the basement.

She was right, I was slowly getting used to it.  Running up and down the stairs more often and feeling more free from the fear each time.  And because nothing had ever happened to me when I was down there for my laundry, to turn on the fuse that blew out due to the air conditioner, or do help my roommate pick up the coat rack that fell for the third time that night,  it was beginning to feel safe.

So on Friday night when I was headed down the stairs to move my laundry from the washer to the dryer, I didn't have a second thought.   I hit the light and began to turn the corner to go down the stairs, when I saw the shadow of something fly across in front of the light.  Instantly I thought it was a bat, but then told myself that was crazy, it was probably a moth or maybe even secretly I hoped a butterfly.  I called out for reinforcements before going any farther.  Thankfully, Dave, was over.

As he came to the top of the stairs I told him the details of what I thought I saw, assuring myself the  entire time I was overreacting.  Being the great man that he is, he went down to check for me.  He walked down the stair,s looked for what seemed like a split second and said, "Yep, you got a bat."

This is when I would like to say that we calmly took action, but that can be said with truth for only one of us.

Dave: "Do you have a pillow case?"
Me: "Only the one I sleep on."
Dave: "Do you have a sheet."
Me: "Only the one I sleep under."
Dave: "Do you have a garbage bag?"
Me: (looked...) "No... but I do have paper bags."
Dave: "Ok, that'll work."

So down he went with the paper bag, as I stood nervously at the top of the stairs.  He came back up about five minutes later.  Didn't find it.

I considered just buying new clothes.

Dave had a better plan.  We both would go down and as I moved my clothes from the washer to the dryer, Dave would watch for the bat.

As we went down the stairs my heart was pounding and I made sure to cover my head with my hands.  I was quickly moving my clothes, when Dave announced "There it is!" I fell to the ground and covered my head.  I heard the bag fly through the air and land, but had no idea where.
Dave then told me to get up.
I refused.
He very calmly responded, "No, you need to get up, it landed next to your head."
I moved.

He had it under the bag, trapped on the ground.  After calming me down a little, he tried to smash it with laundry detergent and then a wooden bed pole that was being stored in the basement.  After hitting almost everywhere, almost certain it had been killed, he removed the bag.  Out it flew.

I jumped backwards, as Dave went after it.  He finally caught it and placed it in a bag, telling me to finish my laundry.

After the bat was disposed of, hopefully dead in the trash can outside, we came back in the house and instantly I  feared there was a bat in every dark corner.  I was jumpy and when I stepped on something I was not expecting to step on, I screamed.  I was a little shaken up.

After talking about it and realizing I was being quite ridiculous, and I calmed down. However, the next morning when the AC and the microwave were running at the same time, the fuse blew and I needed to go down to the basement.   It took a lot of talking myself into going down to the basement and assuring myself that the bat was gone before I could go.

How easily, we depend on our experiences and not the knowledge and truth we know.  I wasn't afraid of the basement when it had been safe over and over again.  I had depended on those experiences of safely to make my conclusion that the basement was safe.  But after an experience of not feeling safe, even though I know that the bat could not really hurt me and more than likely I would survive, my belief of what the basement's safety changed quickly.

Too often I base my beliefs on what I have seen and lived through, what is of this world, instead of what is eternal.  With God, I have promise to have no fear in things of this world because he is in control of it all, no need to worry.  This is easy to believe when I don't need to put it into practice, but the second it is challenged it is a struggle.

We are promised struggles and sufferings and I know that these challenge us on what we believe and know to be true and are placed in our lives to strengthen our dependance on God, to deepen our knowledge of who he is and what that means in our lives.  They are not promised to be easy or without strife, however they are promised to be constant in whatever situation, trial, or opportunity is presented in our paths.

So, whether my basement is with or without a bat, I have the freedom to not allow what is in my basement or what is happening in my life to affect me because I have the truth of my Lord to rest in always.  

Meet Will.





















Will likes macaroni and cheese in the shape of cars.
Will likes to clap.
Will only knows the word 'yes' and 'yeah', which I think means he is a  fairly positive person.
Will only plays with a toy for 20 seconds.

Will picks a toy out of the bucket, swings it around and then tosses it across the room.  Then Will picks another toy out of the toy bucket, swings it around and tosses it across the room.  This continues, until all the toys have been removed from the toy bucket.  Then he moves on to the next toy bucket or is ready for a nap.   When he gets up, the "playing" starts right back with the toys that had been cleaned up during his nap.

I think this is purely human nature.  The constant seeking out a new toy, a new prize, a new idea to pursue our happiness.  Often the things of this world do not measure up and we toss, moving on to the next thing.  Once we have tired all things in a certain area, we then move on to the next area, sometimes even back to an old area, but again this doesn't satisfy us.

Watching Will I saw myself at times, trying to fill the void with things other than God.  Instead of turning to Him right away, I turn to x.y, and z, each time realizing that the FIRST thing I should have fallen before was God.

I don't deserve His grace, even if I came to Him first, however after trying everything else He is there waiting for me, fulfilling me and yearning for me to come to Him time and time again.

Now if only Will would learn this lesson, the amount of toys I have to clean up would be a lot less.

hi.

I know i haven't written in over a month.

I have a lot of thoughts and ideas.

I will write again.

Patience is a virtue.

So it's been really cold lately.  Like freeze your skin, run all the way to your car and then scream once you get in there, wearing multiple socks cold.

I try to minimize the time I have to spend outdoors.  But I still have to go out here and there.  I had to run to the store on what the weather man said was the coldest night of the year so far.  I needed some highly promised candy for my class in the morning and I knew that a bunch of elementary kids weren't going to take "it was too cold out" for an excuse.

As I was leaving the store, and I'm pretty sure it became about 20 degrees colder while I was in the store somehow than when I went in,  I looked to my left and saw an employee standing next to the side entrance smoking a cigarette.  No coat, no hat, no gloves, just a bright red polo t-shirt with a slightly popped collar, which I'm pretty sure was for warmth, not looks.

She was braving the icy cold for that cigarette.  She so badly craved that cigarette that the weather warnings of not being outside for longer than a couple of minutes or else you would get frost bite did not seem to affect her.  The fact that she was not in a condition to be the cold, with her lack of winter gear, didn't seem to matter. She wanted that cigarette.

This got me thinking, do I crave Jesus as much as that women craved that cigarette.

Do I crave him so much that I would brave the elements just for a sweet, short time with him?  Do I put myself out of comfort for just a little taste of him?  Would I risk my life, or in this case skin, for Jesus?

This women probably goes outside to have a cigarette every break she has.   It doesn't matter what condition she is in or what is going on around her, she just wants a that cigarette.

Lord I pray that I crave you in that same way.

Why I'm not artsy.

I see things really beautiful and intricate in my head but getting them onto paper can be a challenge.  Explaining to people what I see and how I view things is difficult at times.  Sometimes I feel like a creative person trapped in a realist's body.  Most of the time what comes out is black and white, straight lines, and boring.

I guess I'm not artsy because it might just be a picture for me to see.

Since I've moved to the city I've made a new best friend.

We do a lot of awesome stuff together:
play basketball on the mini hoop
eat fruit snacks
do puzzles
build intense lego towers
watch windmill videos on youtube
read Dr. Seuss
eat lollipopsicles (a combination of lollipops and popsicles)

My best friend is two years old.

I love him so much.  The other day while we were eating breakfast and having a great conversation about firefighters and the noise that firetrucks make, I was just hit with how much I love him.  I love him so much it physically hurt.  It's almost impossible to describe.  Not the kind of hurt that causes you pain, but the kind that causes you to want the best for someone else, doesn't want the other person to ever be upset, and the mere thought of that person being hurt causes you hurt.

If I have this much love for him, I can't imagine what it would like to be his mother or father.  The love, the hurt must be so much it is unbearable and sweet, sweet joy all at the same time.

Such a love can come from people.  And people are sinful.

If it is possible for that love to come from people, I can't even imagine how much more a God, who is without sin, who is perfect in every way, who is eternally pure loves his children.

How can He bear it?
How much hurt does it cause Him?
How much does He want nothing but the best for us?

I can't even fathom His love. Love that He has. Love that He gives. Love that He is.

Amazing.

I really like to eat ice cream straight out of the carton.  Maybe it is my impatience, maybe it is my lack of desire to do the dishes or maybe my irrational belief that ice cream tastes better that way (which it does).  I love being able to dig right in with a large spoon and continuing to my heart's (or stomach's) content.  I realize that sometimes this leads me to eat more and that the next person to eat out of the carton is going to eat ice cream my spoon has touched and contaminated.  But ice cream eaten out of the carton is just better.

I think I need to eat more ice cream out of the carton in my life.

Sometimes I take more time then I need to before getting involved.  I take out the carton, get a bowl, get a large spoon to scoop, get a smaller spoon to eat, scoop the ice cream, put the carton away, find a spot at the table and then finally sit down to eat.  When I could have been eating the ice cream all along.

There are things that I know the Lord wants me to step into, but my sinful self resists.  I tell myself "I need more time"or "I'm not ready", when the those are lies I am telling myself. If the Lord wants me to do something all I need to say is "yes" and enter into it depending on His will and on Him for strength alone.

I can waste so much time getting prepared, analyzing the situation and coming up with other things to do.

You do need to rest in the Lord and seek His will.  And  there are times when I need to get out the large spoon, the bowl, the small spoon, find a good spot and sit down and eat.  I need to take that extra time.

However, sometimes all I need to know is that I'm supposed to eat ice cream, grab a spoon and dig in, And the Lord will guide me, strengthen me, support me the rest of the way, getting to eat more than I'm supposed to, getting out of doing dishes and eating a better tasting ice cream than if I'd waited.