Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
By all these lovely tokens September days are here,
With summer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer.
-Helen Hunt Jackson
I'm knitting this week. And making spiced honey. I might even try to take off one day to gather firewood and pick apples.
Ah, autumn. Welcome! Long have I awaited your return...
Friday, September 10, 2010
My brother is getting married this weekend. They're having pie at the reception instead of cake. My family has this love affair with chocolate pie that knows no bounds, so it's only reasonable that we'll pie with our nuptials. (grin)
Just in case anyone misses cake after the happy couple jets, I think I'll sneak in this: the Best Cake Ever. EVER. I mean... ever. I've been making it off and on for the past couple of years and nothing beats it.
Best, incandescently happy, chocolate-pie-and-cake wishes to the lovely couple. -B
Thursday, September 9, 2010
I was walking through the airport a few days ago and passed a girl sipping a Bud Light, deeply absorbed in The Shack. I kept walking. I wasn't a fan of that book, God. What do You think of us down here trying to know You... picture You... describe You and define You? What do You think of our searching?
It thrills My heart. I felt those words pulse through me, along with an overwhelming feeling of love. As if my blood had turned to liquid love and gushed up and down my veins. Now go back and tell the girl with the book. Tell her I love her.
I argued for a minute, then wheeled my suitcase back down the terminal toward the girl. She was still reading.
How do you approach a stranger in the airport and tell her of God's love? The way the conversation unfolded was surreal. I knew, before opening my mouth to talk to her, that she was 23. A student in the medical field. The youngest of her family. I knew - without any way of knowing - that something awful had happened in her short life. Tell her she's not to blame. Tell her it wasn't her fault. Tell she's loved with an everlasting love.
I looked at this girl and wondered what it was like to be reading in an airport, unknowingly pursued by a loving, purposeful, unrelenting God.
Irena is 23. The baby of her family. She's in dental school. And almost three years ago, she was sexually assaulted. Luke is still in diapers.
We talked quietly. She cried. I had to assure her twice that I'm not psychic; that God knows her... knows everything she is and everything she's been through. He'll use anyone around to make sure we know.
Does God love everyone? she asked, quietly. I mean, everyone?
I nodded. Yes, everyone. He loves me. He loves you. He loves that lady over there selling newspapers. A well-dressed man rushed by, berating someone at the other end of his cell phone. Irena raised her eyebrows and tilted her head toward him. Yes, especially him.
You're the second person to talk to me about God, she confided. A co-worker talks about Jesus. She told me to read this book.
Hmm. What's it like, I asked her, to be sitting in an airport, knowingly pursued by a loving, purposeful unrelenting God?
What's it like, she countered, to know Him the way you do?
You won't relent until You have it all. My heart is Yours. -Brin