To Russia with Love, and all the glory to God

panoramic afternoon
панорамный день

Beginning Blogger Lesson #1:  NEVER check your blog stats.   (Yeah right!?)

By this point... I have maybe ten posts.  Really, not very many at all... a few pictures, a few comments, a few attempts at trying to be cool enough to be noticed.... if I can even be noticed.  My only known follower would follow me off a cliff (love you hubster) --- and a stalker follower, my dad, without whose support I would have never wanted to be a writer anyhow.  So when check my blog stats -- which are bleak to say the least and do little to help to build my confidence to continue -- I can account for half of the 27 views this month.

But the other 13....... from Russia........ umm........ what's this about?  Am I about to be hacked?  And, because I have no problems personally with Russia... if you are not trying to hack me... comment, please!

В Россию с любовью. Надеюсь, вам понравится мой блог. Прокомментируйте, пожалуйста.  :)

Beginning Blogger Lesson #2: Publish your posts

This started as a post which sat unpublished until now.  I mean - I could have had 11 posts.  But no... I never returned to my work, and lost the opportunity to give my Russian followers something new to check in on. Sorry Russia.  :(

Извините России.  :(

Beginning Blogger Lesson #3: Always have a message, always have a picture

Today's Picture

This was taken last week sometime when the weather was 84 degrees and the dog and I had a chance to go on a nice, long walk.  Subtitled : Aaaahhh.... peace.

Today's Message

From The Upper Room : "...take courage from remembering that God takes our efforts and blesses them, bringing results far richer than anything we can possibly imagine - and certainly far beyond any specific outcome we might narrowly envision."     ~J. Kearney (Tennessee)

Now to [God] who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish far more than we can ask or imagine, to Him be glory. (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Теперь, чтобы [Бог], который по мощности при работе внутри нас в состоянии выполнить гораздо больше, чем мы просим, или о себе, его слава. (Ефесянам 3:20-21)

He is an awesome God with a majestic plan for us all - each of us created unique and special for a blessed purpose.  All glory to God for our efforts and accomplishments.  Without Him I could not write one word, let alone 10,000.  Without Him working through me, this past year would have been all for naught... but with Him my dignity is in tact, pride in check and a large part of my true self revealed through missions and ministry.  Without Him, I would enter 2011 with my head held low, afraid of what it might bright.... but...

With Him I know all things are possible! (Phil 4:13)  
С ним я знаю все возможно! (Фил 4:13)

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for having the confidence in me to do great things for the glorification of Your Kingdom.  I pray I am able to do as You ask, when You ask, with humility knowing it is You who are working through me. May I never back down, knowing you do not call the prepared... you prepare the called.  All glory and honor to You.

In Christ's name, Amen.

Дорогой Отец Небесный,
Спасибо за то, что доверие ко мне, чтобы сделать большие вещи для прославления твое царство. Я молюсь я могу делать, как Вы спрашиваете, когда вы просите, со смирением зная, что это вы, которые работают через меня. Могу ли я никогда не отступит, зная, что вы не называют готово ... Вы готовите называется. Вся слава и честь для вас.

Во имя Христа, аминь.

Look Ma' No Hands! Subtitled: Indie Rock Summer @ 50MPH With The Top Down

Sarah's story

It was 5 years ago when she showed up at my house.  It was raining, she had on no shoes, a bag in her hand that appeared to be bursting at the seems and marks running down her cheeks where tears had made their way down her cheeks.

“I need a place to stay.” She said.  It was not a question, simply a statement followed by no emotion or indication if she had just knocked on the door of her next home.

“Well, um… why don’t you come on in.  It’s a little cramped, but um, we can sit at the table and talk while I feed Alex.”  

Alex is my son.  Two & a half years old at the time.  He is autistic, and at the time need full attention.  Little happened when I was not already doing something with him.   Our daughter Chelsey, seven, had begun to show signs of restlessness when it came to being “mommy’s little helper.”

“I don’t know if I should come in.  I don’t know if… well… if I’m welcomed.”  Sarah said, head hanging low. 

Pushing the handicapped stroller aside, we walked into the cramped living room to the small round dining table which was actually positioned just in front of the couch.  It’s a very small home these days, with Alex’s trampoline and tunnel crawl taking up a majority of the very small eating nook.

 “Ronald’s not home.  Now is about the only time you could come in.”  

Once before my sister had tried to blackmail my husband by threatening to tell his boss and myself they were having an affair.   This was the first sign her drug use had altered her state of mind to the point of disillusionment.  The month before we had received a call she was passed out at a crack house the police were about to raid (a perk of volunteering with the local fire department).  He had just enough time to wrestle her out before the cops arrived.  Afterwards he took her to a hotel room, paid for one night, and then came home and told me.  It was the same night I had planned to tell him I was pregnant with Alex.

“How’s mom?”  She asked, again with no emotion or sincerity in her voice.

“Mom’s fine.  She’s asleep in her room.  I don’t expect she will wake up after today’s chemo treatments. Don’t bother her.”  I repositioned Alex back into the chair Ronald had specially rigged to help Alex with his constant head rocking.  It helped while we were trying to feed, and took up the space of two chairs. 

After sitting down I remember looking over to see Sarah still standing in the open doorway.  Her eyes were wide, shifting from side to side, in syncopation with a small twitch she seemed to have happening in her neck.   Similar in nature to a tick Alex had developed early last year.  Her hair was particularly messy, tangled to one side and pulled together with a kind of rubber band seen at grocers markets.  Her feet where muddied, ankles swollen and toenails yellowed.  Lack of hygiene was not uncommon since she started using.

Daryl's story

“…quit the prem-e-suess,”  said Jim, continued to read in a plain tone, murmured beneath the sound of his own breathe.

“Wait, what did you say?” Asked Daryl.  “Read that word again, Jim.”

“I think it says prem-e-suess.  What does that mean?”  Jim moved his face closer to the letter in hopes the proximity would bring clarity.  His lips curled, brow furrowed, and his tiny grip as he leaned over the couches armrest to get a better view in the singular dim light of the room.

Daryl snatched the single page notice from his young son’s grasp.  “Prem-e-suess?  That’ ain’t even a word Jim.  Where’s it at, point out to me.  Prem-e-suess.  Prem-eh-suess.  Prem-e-sus.  Oh wait… I think, maybe it says premises… premises, I think that is what its trying to say.” Pointing to the beginning of the paragraph, Daryl handed Jim the letter again.   “Read it again Jim, from the beginning of that whole section again, start right there.” 

Not before taking a deep breath and biting the sides of his mouth, Jim looked back to the notice again.  Slowly starting, he took the sentence a few words at a time.  “You are further… not-i-fied that within… three days after…  ser-vice of this notice…  on you, you…  must pay the amount of…  rent stated in this notice…  in full or quite the prem-i-suess… premises…  and duh-li-fer up poh-se-si-on of the prem-i-ses to the un-der.. under-sign-ed….”

“Jim, you can stop there.”  Daryl took the notice from his son and folded it quickly before tossing it on to the table, and trading it for the unopened beer.

“But I wasn’t finished Dad.”  Jim whined as he lifted his feet off the ground, and began to roll over the couch arm, in to a somersault flip, landing in an upright seated position next to his father who now sat with his head leaned back onto the old couch and stared at the popcorn ceiling above.

“Yeah but you don’t need to go any further son.” Jim said as he opened his beer and took a first long gulp.  “I think I know what the rest of it says without you reading much more.  Why don’t you go on to your room and do your homework.”

Someone must be praying

For all you friends who said you wanted to read something of what I've been talking about for years now...

And for the one of you, or more, (who knows?), who has said a prayer that I actually might share...

Here it is.

My forum for sharing a bit of what I am writing.  A Test Run Edit page of poor grammer and unedited plot lines. 

A bit of passion in action, faith in motion and a huge thanks for all your support.