A Christian Woman Thinks (And It's Dangerous)

Running With Abandon

I was thinking about the last time I ran with abandon, full speed, all out, with no thought of anything else except one thing: SPEED! I guess that would be sometime in 8th grade. We played tag then, a lot of boys versus the girls, and I was one of the fastest girls in the 8th grade (hard to believe, I know). I remember being chased to the goal by Mike Labbe, THE fastest boy on the playground. Just this one time I had a little bit more speed than him - he was right behind me, almost an arm's length away, and I reached the goal without being tagged. Wow! My knee socks were probably sagging all the way to my ankles (this was a Catholic school, we wore skirts/uniforms). My face was most likely beat red (it always gets that way when I start moving around or get overheated - still does). But I had beat him that one time.

Last year during youth group "play time" the kids were doing relays, and I was asked to join a team because adults were each joining. I thought to myself, "I'm still fast. My daughter is fast because her dad & I were both fast - even though we can't catch her any more, we're speedy for our age." So I lined up. The relay stick hit my hands. I took off, managed about two steps, when my head suddenly became a brick and pulled me down. That gravity, it's a hindrance... I hit the dirt, full force, knocking the air out of my stomach. I somehow managed to pass off the relay stick, get up, and walk away, but boy, it hurt. I was speedy no more. I am afraid to try again. At 40, Mike Labbe could probably lap me.

When Christ returns, will I be able to run for Him with abandon again? Will my speed return? Will I not care about speed, just getting towards Him? Or will there be no need to run, just kind of amble up to Him and in awe say hello?

 I like to think I don't run any more because I choose not to... I'm too sophisticated for that and I don't want to sport a red, puffy face. But you know better now, don't you?

Beauty

My daughter fell in love with a dress while we were shopping recently - an unusual event, as she much prefers jeans, t-shirts, & sneakers to any other attire.

It is not a particularly frilly dress: no ruffles, petticoats, pastel colors. In fact, the style is more Catholic schoolgirlish (a friend at school even remarked she looked like a Catholic school student). It has a navy top with a faux white shirt collar and cuffs, and a plaid skirt attached.

What is it she loves about this dress?

It has a swirly twirly skirt. It swishes like crazy. And swish my daughter did - does! - every chance she gets when wearing it and any time the urge overtakes her.

What is it girls love about twirly skirts?

Author Stasi Eldredge has this answer in the introduction to her book Captivating:

"Because that it the heart God set within every woman. That is the role she was created to play - to be a valient and beautiful woman whose life changes the world."

God is all about beauty. And as women, created in His image, it seems we were created to reflect His beauty. This beauty invites - it invites others to see the heart of God, and touch His beauty. It is captivating.

That's the message of Stasi Eldredge's book, which I highly recommend!

Adding my own thoughts, which I've been mullling around since reading this book - I have this theory there is a part of us that recognizes we are no longer perfect, but should be. We are no longer as beautiful as we could be in a fallen world. That is why we are dismayed when bad things happen, when our beauty is marred - the beauty of ourselves or the beauty that is our world, our life, as we've created it. Oh, we know bad things can happen, we expect them, we just don't expect them to happen to US. We are not created for these types of things.

This is why we do things like send flowers to someone when something "ugly" happens - at a funeral, for instance (I think I'm stealing this thought from Mrs. Eldredge). This small token of beauty is supposed to make up for the ugly. It offers consolation, and hope that things can still be pretty.

Think about all the beauty around you. What do you find beautiful? I don't care for dresses much myself, but I DO enjoy blouses with drippy angel sleeves. And things with sequins that dance and sparkle.

You might take secret delight in a pretty apron made of calico, or in a small milk jug of flowers you picked from your own yard, or in the sparkle of color as the sun dances on your child's hair. These things all invite you to ponder the Creator, do they not?

Drop me a note. Tell me what you find beautiful. Please feel free to share your thoughts. And if you can get it, read a copy of the book!

Psalm 8

Psalm 8

4 what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
  human beings that you should care for them?*
5 Yet you made them only a little lower than God*
  and crowned them* with glory and honor.
6 You gave them charge of everything you made,
  putting all things under their authority—
7 the flocks and the herds
  and all the wild animals,
8 the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
  and everything that swims the ocean currents.

9 O LORD, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth! (NIV)

The Message Translation:

I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry,

Moon and stars mounted in their settings.

Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way? (verses 3&4)

Photo taken just after sunset, Newport, RI, October 9, 2006

Rock Tumbler

 Take a moment to remember today....

I was thinking the other day about how certain people can really get on your nerves. The bad news is, there will ALWAYS be someone who gets on your nerves. The good news is, I think life is SUPPOSED to be that way.

I'd like to take credit for this next thought, but I believe I heard it from a friend named June some time back and then filed it in my brain, where it became one of my own permanent thoughts - that thought is this: life is just one big rock tumbler.

Did you have a rock tumbler as a kid? You get a bunch of ugly, rough, dull rocks in the kit. You take these "unfinished" gems and put them in the tumbler. You put in the batteries, and the tumbler begins to turn round and round.

As it tumbles, the rocks dash against each other - over, and over, and over again. You know what this does. At the end of the tumbling cycle, the rocks come out beautifully polished, smooth and shiny. They are ready to be made into keychains and earrings and whatnot. They are finished.

I'm sure you can see the analogy here. Your "get on your nerves" friend is just another rock in the tumbler. God is turning the crank.... and He will turn it until all the rocks inside are finished, smooth & shiny. Then you can emerge, perfected, dashed and beaten but beautiful because of it.

I hope I'm rose quartz, I think that rock is really pretty.

I am resisting the urge to make this thought BIGGER - but I don't think it really needs to be expounded. It is a small thought that makes sense, don't you think?

By the way... it was about 57 degrees in the house this morning... no heat because we still have the roof ripped off! This week plywood flooring goes down- hope to have more photos this week to keep you updated on house progress. In the meantime, we will need some extra blankets!!!!!

Some Thoughts About Music Ministry

I was cleaning my room (STILL!) and came across a pair of black platform-style slip-on sandals that I wore last summer. They must have gotten pushed under my bureau and stayed there for the past year. They were very dusty... and they brought back memories.

I really enjoy shoes - my feet are the one part of my body that aren't TOO big. So if I find some cool shoes, and I can afford them (sometimes when I can't), I take them home. I also like to wear a toe ring, and have pedicures periodically. I prefer bright red toes - and I like when the stylists paint a flower on my big toe(s). Summer is a great time for feet!!!

Back to the sandals. These were a cheapo, man-made, disposable-type sandal, but they made me feel cool. I wore them when our church's contemporary worship band traveled to the shore and "played out" at Harkness state park (in Connecticut) last summer.

We (the band members) were so excited. We had a movable trailer stage, an outdoor gig, and a real audience of sorts that didn't think  we played too loudly. To be honest, it was the best audience we'd ever had. It was made up of friends & family who traveled with us for the music, and campers at Harkness.

Harkness campers at this particular camp are mentally and physically challenged individuals.

We'd never had an audience dance before - this one did. We'd never had folks at the stage eyeballing us like we're cool (most of us are older and beyond true cool age). This one did. We'd never gotten asked for our autographs or our CD - until that night. I had a band practice CD I gave to some of the campers - it wasn't us singing, but it was the same music. They didn't mind.

We actually did make a CD later in the year - but successfully doing that was nothing compared to the way an appreciative audience made us feel.

And you know, all of it was/still is for nothing if the the reason we do it is for how it makes us feel. Musicians are a proud sort of bunch - I don't know how else to say it. We enjoy what we do, we are confident in what we can do, we like it when you like what we do. Even in church, we have to continually remind ourselves that our main concern should be an audience of One. You've seen those T-shirts, right? You know Who the real audience should be.

Yesterday I shared about King David, dancing in the streets without shame. HE knew Who the audience was. And for that, he was blessed.

I hope I can learn to be the same way. Meantime, I must go wash off those dusty sandals - they still look good to me.

Heh heh

My Favorite King David Story

Anyone here have The Message version of the Bible? I have one & use it often, I love the way it reads. When I just don't get something, I can look there & most times it makes sense.

Anyway, one of my favorite stories is of King David going to recover the Chest of God (or the Ark of God) after the Philistines had removed it during battle. Remember, this Ark was a holy thing - there were rules about how you could touch such a thing. As our story begins, David takes a bunch of his best men, a cart, and some oxen... and he expects to recover the chest with this.

Using The Message, here's the text (any comments of my own will be in itallic):

2 Samuel 6:

David mustered the pick of the troops of Israel - thirty divisions of them. Together with his soldiers, David headed for Baalah to recover the Chest of God, which was called by the Name God-of-the-Angel-Armies, who was enthroned over the pair of angels on the Chest.

They placed the Chest of God on a brand-new oxcart (first mistake!) and removed it from Abinadab's house on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, Abinadab's sons, were driving the new cart loaded with the Chest of God, Ahio in the lead and Uzzah alongside the Chest. David and the whole company of Israel were in the parade (they made a parade out of this deal! How cool! Everyone went along -), singing at the top of their lungs and playing mandolins, harps, tambourines, castanets, and cymbals (not a bad band). When they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, the oxen stumbled, so Uzzah reached out and grabbed the Chest of God (second mistake! You know, the chest was supposed to be carried only by certain people, not by a cart, or any other persons - the penalty for touching the holy objects of the tabernacle was - well, we'll see soon enough). God blazed in anger against Uzzah and struck him hard because he had profaned the Chest. Uzzah died on the spot, right alongside the Chest. (WOW! Wouldn't you have reached out to keep it from falling?)

Then David got angry because of God's deadly outburst against Uzzah. (Can you believe the nerve of David?) That place is still called Perez Uzzah (The-Explosion-Against-Uzzah). David became fearful of God that day and said, "This Chest is too hot to handle. How can I ever get it back to the City of David?" (too hot to handle - I love that) He refused to take the Chest of God a stop further. Instead, David removed it off the road and to the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite. The Chest of God stayed at the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite for three months. And God prospered Obed-Edom and his entire household.

(Can you imagine? You're having dinner, there's a knock on the door, it's the KING OF ISRAEL and he hands you this chest .... well, he probably rolled it in, afraid to touch it... it's like being handed the hot potato in a hot potato game. Here you go, says the king, be sure not to touch it)

It was reported to King David that God had prospered Obed-Edom and his entire household because of the Chest of God. So David thought, "I'll get that blessing for myself," and went and brought up the Chest of God form the house of Obed-Edom to the City of David, celebrating extravagantly all the way, with frequent sacrifices of choice bulls. (Again, can you believe the nerve of this guy? Now he's jealous of Obed-Edom's propsperity!) David, ceremonially dressed in priest's linen, danced with great abandon before God (this is why God loved him anyay, despite all his quirkiness). The whole country was with him (not just the thirty divisions this time) as he accompanied the Chest of God with shouts and trumpet blasts. But as the Chest of God came into the City of David, Michal, Saul's daughter, happened to be looking out a window. When she saw King David leaping and dancing before God, her heart filled with scorn.

They brought the Chest of God and set it in the middle of the tent pavilion that David had pitched for it. Then and there David worshiped, offering burnt offerings and peace offerings. When David had completed the sacrifices of burnt and peace offerings, he blessed the people in the name of God-of-the-Angel-Armies and handed out to each person in the crowd, men and women alike, a loaf of bread, a date cake, and a raisin cake. Then everyone went home. (Maybe we should try this! After worship on Sunday everyone gets a couple of cakes)

David returned home to bless his family. Michal, Saul's daughter, came out to greet him: "How wonderfully the king has distinguished himself today - exposing himself to the eyes of the servants' maids like some burlesque street dancer!" (are you getting a mental image here?) David replied to Michal, "In God's presence I'll dance all I want! He chose me over your father and the rest of our familly and made me prince over God's people, over Israel. Oh yes, I'll dance to God's glory - more recklessly even than this. And as far as I'm concerned... I'll gladly look like a fool... but among these maids you're so worried about, I'll be honored no end." (Guess he told her)

Michal, Saul's daughter, was barren the rest of her life.

(You can almost feel for Michal - like Uzzah, the punishment seems so harsh)

What can we learn from this story? That David's heart towards God was worth more than what he did for God. No matter what, he worshiped God, with "reckless abandon." No matter who was watching. No matter what they thought about him.

Easy Street

Don't you wish things were easier? That growing up weren't so painful? That buying only one thing at W**-Mart was possible? That you could find comfortable shoes the first time you shopped for them?

Today was a hard day. There was nothing easy about it. It was hard from sunup to sundown. And here I sit, late into the night, afraid to go to bed for fear another day like today will come!

So to ease my mind, I thought I'd write down things I am thankful for right now. Then I will try to sleep with my mind on them -

I'm thankful my two girls are healthy, sleeping soundly in the next room.

I'm thankful for the evening breezes blowing in my windows - it's going to dip into the 50s tonight, great sleeping temps.

I'm thankful for my hubby, who could have been angry with me for things that happened today. Instead, he was supportive. He even let me hog the computer tonight.

I'm thankful my family is close by. Today I saw my little brother, my mother, my mother-in-law and father-in-law.

I'm thankful for a great church nearby where I can be actively involved in ministries I enjoy, and where my kids have plenty they can be involved in, and where I can hang out with other families like mine struggling to "make it" and bring up Godly kids.

I'm thankful for a pastor who can make sense out of things that might not make sense to me, and who can explain them so I can learn and grow, year after year after year.

I'm thankful for a handful of good friends. That's all you need, really.

I'm thankful for online friends who listen to you miles away and still talk to you after you pour your heart out!

I leave you with these parting thoughts, penned by the Christian music group the Newsboys:

"When the toast is burning and the milk is turning, Captain Crunch is waving farewell... when the big one finds you may this song remind you that they don't serve breakfast in hell."

Good night.

Mistakes - Essay #82, Randomly Assigned

Hi, friends, thought it was time to share another essay from A Christian Woman Thinks... (the yet unpublished book).

Mistakes

My two brothers were born 18 months apart. I guess you can call that a mistake - you know, having the second baby so close to the first. Probably not a planned pregnancy, that second one.

In fact (be ready to be appalled), my brother was talking to my father about the birth of his (my brother’s) first child, and my father actually revealed to him (my brother) that he was, in fact, UNPLANNED FOR (i.e., a mistake).

Better watch out. That was my father’s advice.

I will leave that story aside for now, as I already have risked embarrassing my mother and brother, and leave out mention of my father’s obvious lack of tact (oops! just mentioned it after all). My goal here is to point out another mistake, one that has changed history.

Jesus was a mistake.

Oh, God knew about it, that’s for sure. He planned it, and it was no mistake on His part. He sent an angel to tell Mary about it, to warn her the pregnancy was coming. He also told Joseph about it ahead of time. Why did He do that? Because to you and I, it would appear Jesus was a mistake - you know, UNPLANNED FOR, Mary and Joseph not being married yet. And in those days, mistakes like that were not overlooked so easily.

Maybe you know someone in this situation. An unplanned child. An unexpected birth. Maybe you are that someone. You are the mistake.

I, for one, am glad for Mary’s mistake. I am grateful Mary chose to accept what God had planned for her - would you have taken it so gracefully? How about you, guys, would you have handled having your future wife found pregnant and her claiming it was an act of God? And aren’t you glad Mary couldn’t walk into a Planned Parenthood and ask for an abortion to take care of this mistake? Because this mistake turned out to be the Messiah, the way back to heaven for you and me. It was the biggest, and best, mistake of all time.

My brother didn’t turn out so bad, either.

Now, could someone please speak to my father about tactfulness?

Hard Questions

My boss is an atheist - although he's on the fence lately about whether there is a God or not. But for sure he doesn't believe in heaven, hell, or a life after this one (so I wonder, if he comes to believe in God, where does this God he thinks about live? But that's another topic).

Having said all that, he is fascinated with the topic of religion, and he knows quite a bit about it - just not personally. And he loves to ask hard questions.

Today's hard question: do people in primitive parts of the world who are never exposed to the Bible or who have never heard the Gospel get into heaven? After all, it's not their fault they didn't know about God, how could they make a decision for or against Him?

The Bible tells us if we do not praise God, the very rocks will cry out His name. A lot of us are living out homestead dreams, and are surrounded by the beauty of God's creation. I think at some point in everyone's life you question where all this came from, and how we got here, and even more important, what happens to us when we die. It doesn't matter if we see it in print or not, our souls cry out to know the Creator. And you can not deny the Creator's works show the splendor of His glory.

So primitive native or not, you have to judge for yourself whether you believe, or not believe.

How about the old testament people? Before Jesus came in the flesh, Abraham knew God and he was justified by his faith in God. So he went to heaven.

How about babies who die, or those who are mentally disabled? Unless they can make a conscious decision to deny God, I think Jesus's grace is sufficient for them, too.

It's a tough question. Could you answer it? Do a search on your favorite search engine. Type something like, who gets into heaven? or will people who don't know the Bible go to hell? You'll get a whole plethora of thoughts on this topic.

I'm wondering, Ellen, if you get any hard questions in Kenya? What are the obstacles to faith there?

Did anyone see the movie End of the Spear about the missionaries who were speared to death? Those folks were as primitive as they come, and even they had belief in a GREAT GOD, something bigger than them, and in a good place after this life, which they hoped to get to. They called it jumping the great boa. Do a search on that movie, too, it's a great story.

Good night, friends -

Hope

Good morning!

Last night my younger daughter Natalie (age 7) was eating an apple. She bit into the core and got herself a seed, which she promptly brought to me hoping I'd plant it for her.

I tried to explain how long it takes to get an apple from an apple tree. I said, "Do you know how long it takes to grow an apple tree that will make apples after you plant this seed?" She gave me an answer - something like a hundred years, in her estimation. Then I reminded her that we were moving soon, so she wouldn't even be here to see if her seed grew at all.

So she said, "Maybe the people next door can take a picture for us."

Such hope, isn't it? Hope the seed will grow, hope the neighbors will take a picture for us, hope for future apples.

Linked with hope is always faith, isn't there? You have faith the seed will grow, which is why you hope for the apples.

The Bible tells us these two things are important. And so is a third thing that comes with the other two - love - the greatest of these three things being love.

In all matters of our lives these things go together. Take our children: when learning something new, such as walking, or riding a bike, they have faith in us to help them, catch them if need be. Because of this they have hope that they can walk, or ride a two wheeler. And after that they have love for the new action - what toddler doesn't love to walk about the house checking out places you can't reach when you're smaller?

How about our salvation? We have faith first, in something we can not see or feel or touch. Having this faith gives us hope for our future, and then it gives us love for life and for our Creator.

Faith, hope, and love. Wisdom from above, as brought to you today by a seven year old.

Pray for our house plans - our buyers have not gotten their commitment in time, and need to meet additional requirements. We still want to move next month! Thanks for your thoughts & prayers so far.

Have a great day -

Short and Sweet

Here's another essay for you. Let's call it #49 (randomly assigned) of my collection for A Christian Woman Thinks (and it's dangerous).

Short and Sweet

My uncle Jim died unexpectedly last year. One day he was with us, the next he was clutching his chest in pain. He died before reaching the hospital.

I was sad, but believe he has joined Jesus in heaven, where I hear gas is much cheaper (just kidding, of course). What I mean to say is, he’s enjoying eternal life right now. Lucky guy.

I read his obituary; it surprised me. Not because of its content, but because of its length. It consisted of maybe three paragraphs, and the third was made up entirely of the required list of relatives section. The other two paragraphs were only a line or two each. They simply said who he was, that he liked motorcycles, that he died and had a bunch of relatives. That’s how I remember it.

It struck me, this sparse accounting of life. I felt bad about it. Why, I don’t know. Is there shame in having a short obituary?

Jesus had a short obituary. It was nailed up above His head on the cross. It read something like this, as I remember it: Here is Jesus, King of the Jews.

Wow. Even shorter than my uncle Jim’s. Not even a list of relatives section.

Yet, didn’t that small accounting of Jesus’s life and death say so much in so little space? First, who He was. He was Jesus. Emmanuel. God with us, in the flesh! The One the scriptures had been talking about for years. The Lamb of God. Right there before all eyes present. Look no further, this is Jesus.

Second: King... He is King! The soldiers meant this in mockery, but in mocking they unknowingly admitted a great truth. He is a king! Not prince, not duke, but king (you must read this line and do the voice of the Cowardly Lion in your head while doing so - I’ll write it again here so you can do this). Not prince, not duke, but King! (stretch your hand up, finger in the air, make a statement. Yeah, that’s it). King!

Third: (King)....of the Jews. Hold the phone, I’m not Jewish. Doesn’t apply to me. Could have stopped the obit after King, right? Wrong. This says everything about His heritage, about God’s special relationship with the Jews, about the lineage Christ descended from.... it’s important, because it was all part of the plan. It’s kind of the list of relatives section, isn’t it? King of the Jews. King of God’s chosen people. Are you one of the "chosen?" That means us, too. He is King of us if we accept Him as our King. In doing the choosing of Him, we become part of the "chosen." Funky, eh?

I’ve started to write my own obituary I think it should be something of a cross between my uncle Jim’s and Jesus’s. Something like this: Here is Chris. She liked music & stuff. She had these relatives (insert list of relatives here). She is a daughter of the King of the Jews.

Short, but sweet. Just the way I’ve come to think it should be.

Speaking of short and sweet, here's one of my other favorite short and sweet things - my niece Brooke Amber. She turned 1 in May, and she's a delight. Finally, one of my brothers had a child and didn't leave me on my own in the production of grandchildren department.

Secret Identity

Some days we all struggle. I wrote the following essay, or thoughts, a few months back when I had a day similar to today. I think I get feeling really low especially when I am really tired, and it seems like everything goes haywire when you're tired, doesn't it? I do offer a suggestion to deal with this at the end, but if any of you ladies out there have any other ideas, feel free to leave comments!

Devotion #24 (randomly assigned) for the book "A Christian Woman Thinks" (And It’s Dangerous)

Ê

In a former life I was a newspaper reporter and editor. Strictly small town, of course, but it counts. My claim to fame is I interviewed Big Bird (aka Mr. Carol Spinney) around the time Sesame Street celebrated its 25 anniversary. I was able to do so because he lived in a quaint town in my newpaper’s corner of the world - and he picked up the phone when I called his house.

I also had some dark room equipment and could develop and print black and white film. Which means I was somewhat of a photography buff, too. I have no claim to fame in this area, except I bailed out the newspaper photographer(s) more than once when deadline approached and the film was not developed.

In THIS life I am the one who cleans the rabbit hutch, makes sure hubby has clean underwear, and tries to teach my seven-year-old daughter not to talk about butts all the time.

This isn’t what I signed up for. How about you? I feel like some superhero in retirement, hiding a dazzling past (or so it seems to have been dazzling, now that it’s far gone) and struggling to keep up with normalcy.

My claim to fame these days is finding a Polish stoneware plate at my local TJ Maxx to add to my collection.

Can you tell I am a stone’s throw from 40? Can I blame age for this melancholy longing for my 20s?

It’s times like these I ask God what it’s all about. I tell Him I don’t think I matter much in the great scheme of things, and you know, that’s partly true. That’s why it’s so incredible that He would care about me in the first place.

My prayer when I feel like this goes something like this: "Is this what I’m created for, God? Is this Your best for me? Do I matter? Do you see me?"

Not very nice words, are they? Have you ever felt like this, dear friend? Do you have a secret past, and a new identity you’d rather hide from some days?

Let’s get through it together. Please come for tea and chat. Let’s feel like we matter for a little while and support one another.

Do you have a friend who you think feels like this? Go call her right now.

While you’re at it, check on Mr. Spinney (aka Big Bird). He’s still in the phone book.

Ê

Big Dreams

Hi, folks... I wanted to share some of the thoughts I've been jotting down for a while now. Sometimes I write these little essays, and thought about putting them together in a little book, but maybe I can share some here.

This is one of my first essays. I shared it with Donna A. and Jo-Anne O.... and now with you, my friends. I call it:

Big Dreams

Essay #22 (randomly assigned), of the book of essays A Christian Woman Thinks (And It's Dangerous)

When my oldest daughter was almost 7, she saw the Nutcracker and decided she wanted to be a ballerina.

Visions of the future danced in my head. I could see my daughter looking graceful and elegant on stage, a halo of light around her tiara and a billowy ring of tulle around her waist. Of course, she would moonlight as a missionary. God could certainly use a ballerina to proclaim the Gospel.

I signed her up for lessons. She enjoyed them, and did well. I began bartering my time, cleaning the studio in exchange for dollars off the tuition. Tuition was expensive, and I didn’t like cleaning every week, but as I mopped I thought with pleasure of the road ahead, and vowed to myself to clean as long as it took to get her on pointe and then on to the big stage.

She moved up to the pre-professional program her second year, and began learning the Vaganova style of ballet (I’m still not sure what this means). She learned french words for the strange twists and stretches she could do. She looked ahead to being 10 years old and trying on those pointe shoes. Her teacher said she was strong, had the build of a dancer, and could dance if she wanted to. The future was confirmed.

Just before she turned 9, we got into the van to head down to class and a voice from the back seat said: "I DON’T WANT TO GO." This was no small voice, as my older daughter does not possess such a thing. And so there was no mistaking what I had heard.

My heart ached. Hers did not. It simply moved on. She asked if she could take karate. We gave her a week to be sure she didn’t want to go back to ballet. Her teacher said it was wise not to push her into dancing if she did not want to. A week later she still did not want to dance, and then she asked if she could take gymnastics.

She was ready to move on. My dreams were not. I began to understand why my mother still nags me about things she believes I am born to do (In my head I can hear her: You’re a writer, why aren’t you writing?).

But suddenly I can see her side of things. She is my mother. She sees my name in print and is happy. She still has those mother dreams, dreams she knows I am capable of fulfilling.

God has dreams and plans for us, too. He tells us in the book of Jeremiah (this is my best paraphrase): for I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you a future and a hope, plans to prosper you. He has God dreams for us.

I wonder how He feels when we call out from the back seat, "I DON’T WANT TO GO." Does His heart ache? Does He change His God dreams for us?

Somehow I don’t think so. I think His plans and dreams go beyond something like whether we write or wear pointe shoes. Sure, these things can be part of the dream, but I think there is a BIG GOD DREAM, and the shoes we wear or books we write are just a small segment of this BIG GOD DREAM.

It probably takes a lifetime to find out whether you’ve fulfilled the BIG GOD DREAM. Or maybe we don’t find out until we reach the throne of grace. The wonder of it all is that He would have a BIG GOD DREAM for each and every one of us.

So what is next for my daughter? Why did God give her such powerful legs? Why did He give her endless energy? Why did He give her big feet to balance like that?

I will have to wait to find out. I know there is a purpose for this child, and I can’t wait to see it. Really. I can’t. Wait, that is. I don’t like to wait. But I have no choice. God has His timing. And my daughter has hers.

So for now I will content myself to jot down these thoughts, and rest secure in the knowledge that, at the very least, I am right now fulfilling one of my mother’s dreams for me by writing this all down.

P.S. As of this date, my older daughter, Joy, is now 10 years old and a purple belt in karate. She has big dreams of earning a black belt.