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Statues, Flags and Decor - Revised Edition

I had a whole post typed out about the controversy about statues and flags and decorations sold at craft stores.

And then I deleted it. Because this is the real issue . . .

I want to love you. 

Regardless of the amount of pigmentation in your skin, how much money you make or whether you have a Black Lives Matter or Blue Lives Matter sign in your yard.

Sometimes I am biased, self-seeking and even rude. I am not great at loving you. I am not even good or mediocre at it. But I want to be. The world could use more love. And less judgment.

You are a child of the same God as I am. You are his beloved child who he made fearfully and wonderfully just like me. And because of that, you are precious to me.

In my heart, the statues are taken down. History is remembered and observed. Police who discriminate have stopped doing it. Only those who do commit crimes are suspected of them. Every police officer goes home safe to their family every. stinkin. night, they are shown the respect their uniform …
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In third grade, I was the best speller in my class. They talked to my parents and gave me the test to see if I could be moved to the accelerated class for "gifted" kids.

I passed and they let me in. But for some reason, I felt like a fraud.

Until that point, I worked really hard at being a good student. I thought I could find my self worth in excelling academically.

Even as an 8 year old child, I remember being afraid of receiving confirmation that I was dumb. Or of anyone noticing how dumb I really was.

When I got into the class for "gifted" kids I felt the need to puff myself up. To make myself seem special and more likable/lovable than I believed I was. I bluffed my way through, expecting the ax to fall at any moment.

My fourth grade teacher seemed drawn to a specific group of students. I was not in that group. No matter what I did, he never seemed to notice or approve. He would hand assignments back to me, tell me I hadn't put any effort into them and keep …

A Disappearing Act

I'm not a big gift giver. I love to give gifts, but I find it daunting most of the time, so I don't  attempt it often. When I feel moved to give a gift, it's to have my love for the other person manifested in physical form. Evidence of our deep, soul-knowing. And finding the perfect gift to do that is . . . not easy. Sometimes I end up proving that I don't know them as well as I thought. And I really dislike that feeling.

I'm not a big gift receiver either. It's not that I don't love receiving gifts, but I receive them in the same way I give a physical manifestation of our relationship. Evidence of our deep, soul-knowing. Or proof that they really don't know me at all. 
Gift giving and receiving is a serious business for me. Obligatory gifts and designated gift giving times are pestilences in my view. I hate the pressure to find the perfect thing on cue, and I hate settling for something less than perfecteven more. So when the Spirit moves me …

The Tale of Two Girls: But Really, Only One

Hannah FancherJuly 26, 2011 at 3:41pm · Sometimes I feel really bad about myself. I think that God could have done so much more with me if I had not wasted 10 years wallowing in sin (as a side note--I spent the last 10 years trying to figure out what was psychologically wrong with me...and then I started listening to a series of sermons on the book of Roman's and had so many 'aha!' moments it was ridiculous! But the verse that talks about God giving "them" over to their sin and allowing them to wallow in it really hit me. There was nothing wrong with me psychologically except that, I believe, God had given me over to my sin. So there you go.) I should be so much farther along. And I start to feel ashamed.
But it hit me the other day...yeah I have really sucked it up...but I believe that God has shown His power in my life by doing things that can absolutely NOT be mistaken for MY a way that I don't think I could have understood if I didn't see th…

Order of Operations: God's Process

When my kitchen is a MESS, I mean REALLY A MESS. Like every last dish in the kitchen is dirty, there's not a square centimeter of counter space that's not congested with dishes or covered in flour or jelly, and the trash is overflowing. When my kitchen is THAT dirty...I have a process.

I don't go in and start doing the dishes. I start with the easiest tasks. The tasks that can be done quickly but that make a big difference quickly. First, I take out the trash. Second, I put away the things on the counters that are ready to be put away, consolidate the dishes into one space, and wipe down the counters. Then I unload the dishwasher, reload it, and fill the dirtiest dishes to be hand washed with warm water, a bit of Dawn and set them aside. Finally, I wash the dishes.
When the dishes are all clean, I set about detailing the counters - making sure there is no trace of jelly or flour in the nooks and crannys - and any other organizational tasks that need to be completed.


What I haven't told you about our house. . .

I clicked on a Facebook ad.

Facebook ads are mostly a source of merriment for me. A while back all of the ads were for toilets. Apparently SOMEONE had been shopping for toilets online.

Anyway, I clicked on the ad. It was from a mortgage lender boasting that they could give us a mortgage that would be cheaper than renting. I honestly don't know why it caught my eye. It did, I clicked it and filled out the form. I was brutally honest about our financial situation. I didn't want to get halfway through the process, fall in love with a house and then be told we didn't actually qualify.

I expected them to either respond with a checklist of things we needed to do to qualify, or not at all. I never in a million years thought they would tell us that we qualify. (Michael was actually really annoyed that I did this. He had no confidence in this at all.)

To be honest, we had given up hope of being homeowners the spring before.

So I was shocked when they responded pretty quickly assuri…

Getting to Know the Shepherd of My Soul

As the deer pants for water so my soul longs to know God. To drink Him in.

I grasp for Him with each breath as my spirit cries “more of you God, less of me”.
I search for Him in the pages of the Old. In the relationships vividly depicted there.

Israel asked for a king. God gave them one. He warned them, and then He gave them one.  

I used to think God chose Saul to be the first king because he was such a great guy. But I’ve changed my mind. I think God may have chosen him because He knew Saul would go down in flames. To contrast our foolish and shallow view of humanity in thinking we know what's best for us, with His all wise and all knowing perspective.

Saul was the exact kind of person to catch a human eye. The one we would all choose to be king. From my point of view, he seemed the right choice. But he quickly became cocky, unwilling to submit to God and in deep denial about his attitude and sin. He ended up chasing David around the country-side in very real 'Roadrunner and C…