My Christmas Gift

Welcome to the season we all have eagerly awaited, the Christmas season.  Christmas is the season of celebrating my freedom.  This season, the birth of He who bridged Heaven and earth, is the epicenter of my faith.  He came to feel my pain and offer me a new perspective on the outcome.  He came to make Himself a tangible entity, a God who humbled Himself to know me greater that I might love Him more.  No other God in history has offered Himself to those He loves such as the creator of the universe did for me.  He came to bring an end to my captivity, to set me free.  


Lost and hiding in the dark, you found me.  Unsure if you looked for a while or if you knew my exact location, I suspected I outran you.  I did not expect you to come to hell to find me.  Deservedly scared and alone, my captor kept me shackled.  A fitting punishment.  I overheard you speaking with him about my ransom.  It was costly, but you agreed to give your only son in exchange for my life.  You said I was worth your sacrifice.  The chains fell.  I was free to leave.  

Why set me free?  Why give your only son after I took you for granted?  I ran away, hid, cursed your name, and turned my back on you.  I did not deserve freedom; I deserved the chains that bound me.  You agreed, but you loved me beyond what I could see.  You loved me immeasurably more than my angry stubbornness.  My broken heart cried as you showed me my hope and my future.

My ransom came in the form of a baby born in a stable, laid in a manger.  Surrounded by barnyard friends, the savior of my soul drew his first breath.  Hope came to life.  He shattered the dark, fulfilling promise and prophecy.  The light of the world came to take my place one cold December night in the most humbling way.

Silently I wept, as I watched the scene unfold.  How could you sacrifice that precious little boy for my cold, bitter heart?  So quiet and innocent; his hands and feet were tiny.  His eyes were so bright and unforgettable.  All of Heaven rejoiced shouting “Glory to God in the highest” for the King of Heaven and Earth was born.  And you gave him as my ransom.

How do I repay you?  You secured my freedom; I’m forever in your debt.  I have no silver, no gold; I have nothing to give.  You lifted my tear-stained face and looked directly into my eyes while you explained why you gave your son freely.  He was your gift to me, for me.  In return, you wanted my acceptance of your gift, your child as my ransom.  His life for my soul.  You asked that I believe with all my heart that my debt was paid and live freely always remembering your sacrifice.  I would never forget this baby in the straw, my forever Christmas gift.  For he is called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  I fell to my knees in adoration.  From the mountain tops, I would proclaim the story of how you paid my debt with your only son.  

“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus because he will save his people from their sins.”  Matthew 1:21   

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  John 3:16

May this Christmas and every Christmas serve as a reminder of Hope.  The chains of my oppressor forever broken by the precious baby who paid my debt with his life, perfect love.

Welcome to the season!

For the Love of God

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”  Matthew 7:7

When I expectantly seek, I find.  God doesn’t move in mysterious ways.  His moves are obvious; I just fail to pay attention.  

**May my eyes be ever steadfast on you Lord.

I am here (period, end of the sentence).  “Here” is the palm of His hand and the center of His will; it is a breathtaking place.  When my mind comes back to the location of my body, I see God.  I see Him in the drops of rain that water the soil and in the mist on the hills.  I see Him in the color of the still changing leaves, and I see Him in the hearts of those around me.  

“Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city which I have carried you into exile.  Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you will prosper.”  Jeremiah 29:7  

Joy, laughter, and the sounds of eating fill the small over-crowded building as nearly the entire community gathers together.  This meeting of folks from all facets of life happens every Tuesday like clockwork (precisely around fifteen til five).  Young, old, moms, dads, grandparents, working folk, retirees, and every other person including the Almighty (how do I know He shows up?  Because we invite Him) stop by for dinner.  It’s more than food, though.  It’s the gathering of a community, under one roof, to fellowship.  Neighbor sits and visits with neighbor over a meal and a cup of coffee.  For some, it’s a guaranteed hot meal once a week.  There’s always a story to hear, a neck to hug, and love that freely flows.


Not just any love, however.  This love is the love of Christ, unreserved and unrestrained.  His love that is wild for us, and the love that loved us before our existence.  The love that gives Himself wholly, not in pieces.  The love that doesn’t hide just to tease us because when we seek Him expectantly, we find Him.  We find Him in the simple, ordinary, everyday part of life.  His love is a light that all the world will see.

“Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am with them.”  Matthew 18:20

I am fortunate to be a behind the scene part of this Tuesday night extravaganza.  After I had left my traveling life on the road to make the house a home, the first item (literally) on my agenda was to visit “His House.”  Fueled by curiosity and a deep-seeded desire to serve, I had not even been in town a full twenty-four hours when I showed up asking if I could wash dishes just to volunteer.  I had no church to call home and did not know a soul.  Little did I know what God had in store for me.  I just knew I needed to go and do.  

Blessings overflow beyond measure to take part in such a wonderful ministry.  There is a special bond between women who cook in a kitchen together.  There is a union built through sweat and laughter.  We come from different stages of life, different age categories, with different talents (I’m the taste tester) and skills, yet we are one unit knit together through a single passion of serving others.  

Yes, we cook (I even get to mash taters), we wash dishes (as a meal is never served on paper plates for the authentic “at-home” feel), and we serve a free meal to everyone in the community.  But we also sing, dance, laugh, eat, and pray together.  We blend recipes and our unique styles of cooking.  The miracle happens each week as we watch beautiful chaos turn into love.  Tummies and hearts filled.   The wells never run dry; there is always enough.  The waves and wind still know His name and He still multiples food.  I see it once a week.  

The Lord delights in the details of our lives, my life.  “Be here, where I placed you.”  He asks of me.  “Unite your head and your body in this location, be present and look around you.  Do you not see me?  See the gift I give you?  Call these ladies ‘friend’.  As well, pray for the community in which I have placed you.”  

When I consciously let go of my known way of life, a whole new world unfolds before me.


On day twenty-two of endless thanksgiving, I am thankful for my girls, the “His House Hotties!” (because the kitchen is consistently four-hundred degrees and we are sweltering, always).  These ladies are learning my crazy; I will have them certifiable before long.  We don’t sing in perfect harmony, but we make a joyful noise that makes God smile.  We put so much love into the food we cook, that everything tastes amazing!  More than anything, God’s love flows like a river drowning all who enter.  It’s all for Him, and for His glory.  It’s “His House!”


“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”  Matthew 25:40

It’s been fourteen years since I referred to anyone as “friend.”  Go figure; God knows what He is doing.  Between His House and Lakeside Christian Church, there’s a host of ladies I now call “friend.”  God is good all the time, but He’s awesome when I let go and just let Him do His God thing.

When I seek Him, He is easy to find.

We bring the kingdom come

With every act of love

Jesus, help us carry you

Alive in us, Your light shines through

With every act of love

We bring the kingdom come

(“With every act of love”  Jason Gray)

The memory of us packed in the little kitchen singing about God’s love flowing through us will forever be etched into my mind and nestled into my heart!  Thank you, ladies!  I love you all!!!

It Is Well


Grander earth has quaked before moved by the sound of His voice.  Seas that are shaken and stirred can be calmed and broken for my regard.”

The depth of that statement finds me at a loss.  I must confess, I get caught up in the rat race of life.  I get caught up in writing about giving thanks.  I become busy doing and forget.  I forget just how big God is. 

The waves and wind still know His name.”  

I forget His magnitude.  

I forget He is all knowing.  

I forget that He is all powerful.

What God can boast that the earth quakes at the sound of His voice?  What God can speak storms into calm?  Tell me, anyone, what God spoke the world into existence or breathed life into the dirt?  

“Far be it for me not to believe even when my eyes can’t see.  And this mountain that’s in front of me will be thrown into the midst of the sea.”

He is God and worthy to be thanked; this and this alone is truly the only thanks needed.  So, thanks to my God, my very very big God who made the entire solar system and everything beyond.  My very very big God that knows how many grains of sand cover earth also knows how many drops of water are in the ocean.  The waves and wind know His name, and He knows mine.  He knows my name, and He calls me daughter.  

For this, humbly on day twenty, I give thanks.  What else is there?  

Expecting God


No, this is not Mazurah snow.  This is a play day in Colorado, one of the best at that.  We call this “busting freshies.”  Meaning you’ll be the first one to touch freshly fallen snow as you ride down the mountain on a board!


The world is cold, even in far southwest Mazurah.  The day I’ve been anxiously not awaiting came.  The lowest temperature in eight months–thirty.  I suppose it must happen as this is how my God created the Earth to rotate.  I do not approve.  

In Wyoming, I would dread the onset of winter sometimes as early as the beginning of September.  I never worried about winter in South Texas; it didn’t matter.  Mazurah makes me apprehensive; I fell in love with the dreadful heat of sultry August, she welcomed me like a sister.  We bonded, and I can’t let her go.  Or maybe I WON’T let her go.  Having sun tea ready by 9 AM is a beautiful thing.  

I question every winter spent out of my forever home (Colorado).  What on earth will I find beautiful without majestic snow-capped peaks?  How can I be thankful for brown, brown, and brown?  


Near the summit of Bierstadt in July.


Allow me to segway into thanksgiving while seeking beauty in brown.  Welcome to day nineteen; expecting God!

  1. God of all Heaven, earth, and everything in between has prepared for me a surprise.  I expect it.  He has never failed to give me a gift of color in the middle of dull.  I eagerly await to see what He has in store for me this year.  The beautiful part about God–my surprise will truly be a surprise.  He always blows my mind.  POW!
  2. When I expect God, He delivers in a mighty way, not just a package, God shows up with the whole warehouse as a gift for me.  He’s that awesome.  
  3. Approaching the apprehensive with an open mind, open heart, and open eyes allow me to catch a glimpse of majesty.  Maybe I should say it this way, 

when I chose to let go of my known way of thinking it opens my life to a whole new world.  

Today, let me say thank you in advance for the beauty that is yet to be.  Winter is not my friend (outside Colorado), but I will peek out the window each and every day waiting for the storehouse of majesty to sit like Santa’s sleigh on my front lawn.  He’ll bring me goodies as sure as the stars will fill the night sky.  He is God, and He is faithful.  Consequently, faithfully I expect!


The beauty and majesty of Colorado as seen by me from atop one of her grand fourteeners!


Let Me Sit

Day eighteen of this endless thanksgiving finds me with the sincerest of longings I have ever felt.  

Day in and day out for weeks I have expressed my gratitude in many different ways.  If you want to venture backward to see what started this journey for me,  please do.  

“Endless days of thanksgiving” began with giving thanks for a small blessing of fifty who chose to join me on my pilgrimage; similar to the Canterbury Tales, but different.  Chaucer wrote a fetching tale about an eclectic group on a pilgrimage, together, with different stories but the same goal.  I’m stretching this a bit here (just nod your head and smile). Day one found me thankful for a few who travel with me, their stories to tell as well, each en route to the same terminus.  

I am on a journey, a pilgrimage, through this life, on my way to the Celestial City, whose architect and builder is the Lord.  Step one, the only step, is to make it from here to there without growing weary or quitting.

The only way to accomplish this mission is through praise and worship.


When I am weary, He drags my lifeless body down the trail.  When I am worn out, He throws the bucket of cold water on my head.  When I am stubborn, I think He sits and stares at me, engaged in a contest of who can outlast who.  I am yet to win.   He encourages me through His book written long before the Canterbury tales or Pilgrim’s Progress.  His word is alive, it is active, and it is relevant in my life today.  God never gives up on me, even when I took that fourteen-year detour into hell.  He won’t quit, besides, who can stop the Lord Almighty?  Find me someone, anyone.  

When I sit on this road and pout because things do not go my way, He motivates me; He says “stand and praise me.”  

When I am ready to quit because this path is a lot harder than I bargained, and the road cuts through the valley of the shadow of death, He encourages me.  He says “lift your hands and worship me.”  Every time (yes, it happens often; I’m flawed.) I fall head-first down the rocky cliffs of this mountain I climb, He bandages my wounds, He refreshes my spirit, and hydrates my soul.  He says “thank me out loud.  Speak thanksgiving to me so that all can hear.”  

He pushes me, expanding my boundaries and urges me to step forward within a new boldness.  One rock at a time I climb to new heights.  At the top of the mountain, there will be yet another peak, beyond that peak will be some valleys.  This journey is never ending until the day I enter the Celestial City’s gate, and He is with me every step of the way, swapping stories.  My strength exists in my praise and my worship to Him.  It is my only means of survival.    


And so here I sit, lodged on a ledge, suspended between ground and sky, one grumble away from the bottom hundreds of feet below (of which I am well acquainted).  The top is several hundred feet above me; I have a long way to go.  I just want to sit for a minute; I’m not ready to scale the cliff.  I need a rest.  

My sincerest of longings during the toughest season of my world is to sit in His presence and offer my song of thanksgiving to a God who will never leave me on the mountain alone.  He will never leave me in the valley either.  How can I not worship this God?  In all circumstances, I will praise.  I will sing my song to the Lord for his mercies are endless.  His love is endless.  He is endless.  


Weight of the World

The weight of the world lays on me

Doubt swirls my thoughts

Why? I cry out.

My battle is hard fought

My heart grows cold

The fire’s out

Fear and worry

In anger, I shout

I want to quit

Just to feel some peace

Can I let go

To find release?


The weight of the world recedes

When I open my hands

Trust in your word

Believe in your plans

Offer you my thanks

It is the only way

Warm heart is found

Peace for today

In you I have hope

You give me rest

Count my blessings

For only you know best

Lord of All (tax included)

In my decision to make Him Lord of all, He became Lord of all.  

I recently experienced a “Monday.”  Those do not often happen in my world for the simple fact I truly never know what day it is.  I keep track until Tuesday night after which I forget until New Music Friday comes out on Fridays.  At that point, I know football follows on Saturday and then church on Sunday.  (I haven’t figured out what I will do once football season is over in January.  I suppose I will morn as is my custom.)  

“Mondays” hold no power over me.  Usually.  This “Monday” began on Saturday when I realized I failed to renew my car tags.  The power of knowledge changed my status to illegal in an instant.  Immediately, I gathered my ducks, put them neatly in a row (after I realized this is not Texas and I cannot renew with the click of a button via the world wide interweb) and vowed not to stress.  I still lost sleep.  How on earth would I explain my lack of foresight to Himself?  Great question.  The only excuse I could conjure came with two words, “I forgot.”  

Monday found me eager to get on the road to the nearest DMV in a town forty minutes away.  Prepared to sit for hours waiting, I took books, story outlines, and blog topics.  You can only imagine my excitement when I waltzed in the door of the courthouse to find I was the only one in line.  Joy!  I presented my ducks to the sweet lady who promptly asked me for my tax receipt.  

“Excuse me?  My what?”  

“Your 2015 and 2016 personal property tax receipt.”  She repeated herself.

“I still don’t follow,”  I apologized.  “Aren’t taxes paid with the house payment?”

She then proceeded to ask me a million questions about moving to Missouri.  Profoundly confused, I appropriately answered honestly.  The formality of the courthouse suggested that was proper.  I walked out of the office with nothing but my confusion, my ducks, and instructions to “Google it.”  

I’m a very patient person.  One might say I have the gift of patience.  I put every ounce of my patience into play as I “Googled it.”  

I phoned the county in which I live and played a round of twenty questions.  I’ll spare you the details as I asked the same question twenty times with different inflections and sentence structure.  The helpful lady directed me to call a different county yet to continue my game.  I did.  By this time I was beginning to gain understanding.  

Car tax is paid separately, at the beginning of the year, to the county of your residence on January 1.  Every other state in which I lived, the car tax is included in the price of the car tags paid at the time of renewal.  In Missouri, each January you must fill our a form stating what you own and pay accordingly at this time.  For the 2016 year, I failed to do this.  Great, not only am I an illegal, I’m a tax evader to boot.  Sigh.  

With my head spinning, my tire flat, I needed to drive (illegally) another 75 miles one way to solve my problems.  It was in this almost (I lie, I was stressed out to the maximum) stressed, a panicked moment I chose to read some posts via WordPress.  That’s what the tough do when the going gets tough, sitting at the gas station putting air into my flat tire, right?  I’m not even sure why I did that, but I found a reminder, some very carefully penned words, that cut right to my core.  My Name is Legend.  (you should read it)  

Still, my battle is not against flesh and blood.  There are little things in my day, this “Monday,” that I can do.  I can make a choice not to let stress govern me.  I can make a decision to change my attitude.  I can give thanks in every situation, for He is good and His love endures forever and ever and ever, never ending, on and on and on.  Why should my praise end?


God did not erase my delinquent tax situation.  I still had to pay including a penalty.  I still had to pay the late fees associated with the car tag.  The consequence for actions comes into play here.  (Yes, I repented and promised to register myself in my home county and pay the proper 2017 taxes to avoid this in the future).  

Here’s what God did do when I chose to change my attitude.  I found the 55-gallon barrel for which I have been searching.  Not only did I find it, but I also found it at a dirt cheap price.  Amazingly, it fit into the back seat of my car and did not stink.  That barrel smelled like apples.  I found it due to the fact I was forced to take a different route to Springfield, one I never travel.  

Each and every office (there was a list of offices needed to visit for this process.  In fact, the first lady handed me a map to complete my scavenger hunt to pass out money, definitely not one stop shopping) I stepped into in the big city was empty.  I was first and last in line.  (I only had time to write while I drove).  The women and one man who helped me make sense of what was happening had patience.  They were a delight to visit with plus, as a bonus they understood my language.  (If you remember I cannot carry a normal conversation with normal humans.)  When was the last time you ever set foot into a DMV office without a wait?  That’s a big NEVER for me.  The process was smooth, miraculously smooth.  

I left home at 11AM an illegal tax-evader and returned by 7PM a legal tax-paying citizen.


God cannot erase my stupidity or my neglegence and for that there are consequences.  He does go before me and fight my battles.  I’ve no doubt in my mind that this situation was awful before God steam-rolled the bumps from my road.  You’ve no idea how thankful I am for the lesson of “Monday”.  

Day sixteen.  I am beyond thankful that the Lord Almighty fights my battles.  I am floored when I think of all that could be but isn’t because He goes before me.  Angel armies fight the unseen all around me.  What on earth would I do without my hope in Christ?  

In my decision to make Him Lord of all, He became Lord of all.   

I Need a (real) Hero

Our present culture longs for a hero.  Movies, magazines, books, newspapers, billboards, signs and wonders from every corner offering the next great hero.  Be like Mike, because he’s cool!  “Who’s Mike?” I wonder,  “And why is he so cool?”  The next time someone asks me about my heroes, I’m prepared to reply “Hebrews eleven.”

The ancients of the faith, my heroes, believed.  “They were still living by faith when they died.  They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.  And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth” (Hebrews 11:13)  Waiving familiar good-bye, the ancients of the faith charted a course unforgotten by time.  Pioneers of a promise.  

A promise.  A “hey, just trust me on this one OK?”  And they did.  God Almighty said “jump!” and they responded, “how high Lord?”  Without faith, it is impossible to please the Lord.  He calls us to believe in Him without question, without seeing, but simple belief.


God spoke our world into existence, out of nothing He made something.  By faith we understand this, what is seen was not made out of what is visible.

By faith, Enoch was taken from this earth without dying.

By faith, Noah built a boat.

By faith, Abraham relocated his whole family to a new land, lived in tents because he looked forward to a city with foundations, whose builder and architect is God.  A stranger in a foreign land, he held out for the glory of God because he had faith.

By faith Moses, by faith Isaac, by faith Jacob, by faith Joseph, the list goes on.  God was not ashamed to be called their God because they believed His promise.

What does God think of my twenty-first century “fast-food, instant gratification faith”?  My, “I need to see before I believe faith”?  I know the answer.  Hebrews 11:6 tells me “And without faith, it is impossible to please God because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”

And so I seek Him.  His fingerprints grace this world he spoke into existence from nothing.  When I earnestly seek Him, I find Him.  I want to be a hero of the faith.

God of all creation, I long for you to be proud to be called my God.  I long to please you.  With boldness, I declare that I don’t need to see another thing to believe.  Your majesty, your goodness, your splendor surround me.  There is an empty tomb from your son who paid my ransom.  I want to leave a living legacy, find me full of faith.

How do I say thank you, Lord?  For all that you’ve done and all that you’ll do, my heart pours out.  The beauty of your splendor reaches deep within me and brightens my gray world.  Glory was written in the sky, while the turning of the leaves echoes your majesty.  Heaven and a promise.  All you have done, the promise that there is more to come.  And all I am cries out for more of you.  

On day fifteen, I am thankful for my heroes who paved the way.  



Searching for a Hero

Forever ages ago, I used to dream of a hero.  Someone that would rush to save me from the depths of a fate far worse than death.  OK, maybe that wasn’t so forever ago.

I probably made a detailed list of who a hero should be.  I confess to searching for that shining star high and low.  Leaving no stone unturned, a very thorough search.

Forever ages ago, I wondered what it would feel like to have someone go before me in battle and fight on my behalf.  Would someone ever be a champion of me?

On all accounts,  I came up empty.  Until…

Fast forward a few days, and I know.  I am thankful, day fourteen, for heroes; those who believed without seeing, He who laid down His life for me, and the one who is coming back for me soon!

Roll with me on this crazy trip; I’ve had some long days!  Or nights?  I’m not sure which.  And yes, there is a part two, just wait for it like I’m waiting for a hero!

A Thankful Update of Sorts

In all my thanksgiving, my outside projects grow cold.  I could come up with a million excuses as to why, but I’ve been inside on the phone and writing in every spare moment I can find.  I had no clue what a task daily posting is.  There’s nothing like not wanting to let me down or fail my challenge.  I did manage to mow the lawn (yes, mid-November.  I too find this odd.) as Himself will be home again on Wednesday for several days.  I always like the house and yard to look cute.  As well, we will be having our Thanksgiving meal this week.  He will be out on the road for the holidays (maybe).  

Midway through “endless days of thanksgiving,” I have learned some lessons, naturally.  Would God offer me a thought without having an experience tied to it?  I think not.  Some days I am grumpy.  When I’m a grouch, I don’t want to be thankful for anything or anyone.  Several moments of the last thirteen days have stretched me (spoiler alert, I did not snap).  

I try to be authentic and un-generic in my writing.  I try to complete the task honestly and from the heart.  How else will I know what I am feeling?  Genuinely finding a grateful place in my heart takes prayer.  I just cannot approach the throne of God thankfully with grumbles in my heart.  I tried.  I was only thankful for oxygen at that moment, although I would have accepted the world without oxygen and moved on, kinda.  

“Grouch, grumble, grumble grouch.  GRRRR.  Really God?  Grrrrr.  Ugh, seriously?  You gotta be kidding me.  Arrrrgh.  Sigh, yes Lord, that is exactly how I feel right now.  And no, I don’t want to let it go and lay it down.  Nope.  I wanna be pouty right now.  I think I’m gonna throw up.”  That’s me praying, just in case you wondered (yup, I honestly purged a lot too.  I had a headache.  Yup again, I just wrote about it.).  It was my prayer more than once, more than twice, this week.  It’s kinda tough to admit.  Ask me, I dare you, ask me what God does with prayers like that.  Never mind, I’ll tell you.  

He sends kind words through a friend to remind me that I still carry the light of Christ.  “Don’t give up, buttercup.”  That is forever etched in the remembering side of my brain (as opposed to the forgetful side, I can’t remember what I’ve put there).

He gives me a moment at church that I did not expect nor did I see coming.  A girl, maybe eight or ten, during the last song that comes up to me and hugs me with two arms while she sings aloud “Earth has no sorrow that Heaven can’t heal”  What appropriate words.  Earth has no grouchy that Heaven can’t heal either.  Then with one little arm around my waist, she raised her other hand to heaven and kept right on singing.  How on earth did she get past my porcupine quills?  Apparently, she did not see my “do not disturb the grump” sign.  Yes, my heart melted as she doesn’t know me and I do not know her.  God knows different.

After church today, two young ladies were baptized in the cold lake.  Everyone gathered on the shore and sang a verse of “Amazing Grace, ” and I broke.  I’ve never cried at a baptism before.  But then again, Amazing Grace has never been so real to me.  “I once was lost, but now I am found.”  I’ve been set free.  The symbolism of watching these ladies be buried and raised to new life, declaring that they were ready to live for Christ in front of God and everyone, moved my grumbly heart to a humble heart.  I would post some pics of this but forgot to ask for permission.   

Grouchy gets in the way of praise.  Grumpy gets in the way of thanksgiving.  We could throw in six more dwarfs and make a movie.  It wouldn’t be a fairytale, though.  It would be the reality of how the God of the Universe refuses to let me wallow in my shallowness.  Instead of sending a handsome prince to kiss my sleeping cheek, He sent His son to call me to glory and give me a tender heart instead of the rock in my chest.  He sent me a friend, a little girl, and a baptism all in the same day.  Now, that’s a King.  That’s what Kings do.

That, my friends, is the reality of Christ, the only one who is worthy to be called Lord.   He flat out refused to leave me the way He found me and for that, I am humbly thankful.