debily

Archive for the ‘Life’s like that’ Category

Tomorrow is a special day ’round these here parts.  Once again, we get to enjoy the great booming voice of Big Tex as he thunders across Fair Park with his stiffly cheerful, “How-dy, Folks!”  Once again, the Cotton Bowl becomes a prized destination as crowds, loyally dressed and decorated, flood its seating bowl to watch epic pigskin battles.  Once again, the Texas Star spins slowly across the east Dallas skyline.

And once again, the smell of fried anything wafts through the air.

Now there are certain things that are required eatin’ for fairgoers.  Fletcher’s Corny Dogs, for one.  Never mind the long lines or the huge stack of tickets required to enjoy a glorified hot-dog-on-a-stick.  You have not been to the fair until you’ve indulged in at least one.  With mustard.  Only.  Trust me on this.  Another must-have is a funnel cake.  I realize these are a dime-a-dozen at most carnivals.   But somehow, they just taste better here.  Add a healthy dose of powdered sugar and you’re in fried-dough heaven.

Or you could be more adventurous and sample some of the winning fare from the Big Tex choice awards.  This year’s finalists included Fried Sauerkraut, Deep Fried Pineapple Upside Down Cake, and Fried Autumn Pie.  Because down here in the south, it’s a firm rule: EVERYTHING tastes better when it’s fried.

Thirsty?  Try some Fried Coke or a Deep Fried Latte or even Fried BEER.

Need something the kids will eat?  How’s about some Fried Mac ‘n’ Cheese, or a Fried PB & J Sandwich?

Prefer the spicy side of life?  Get yourself some Fried Salsa, or Fernie’s Fried Chili Frito Burrito, or even Buffalo Chicken in a Flapjack – which, despite the absence of the word is, indeed fried.

Don’t want to mess with the classics, man?  Then you ought to try some Fried Sweet Potato Pie or Fried Praline Perfection or Deep Fried Biscuits ‘n’ Gravy or Chicken Fried Bacon.  There’s even some good ol’ Deep Fried Southern Hospitality which has your collard greens, pulled pork, and cornbread:  it’s one-stop eatin’!

Need something a little more healthful?  Then step right up for some Fried Canteloupe or El Bananarito (which, in case you hadn’t figured it out, is deep-fried banana).

Got a sweet tooth?  Then you definitely need to get yourself a Heavenly Deep Fried Brownie, Fried Cheesecake or Fried Caramel Pecan Candy.

And when you’re all done, you can cleanse your palate walking around the Fair chewing on some Fried Bubblegum.

You make lemonade, of course.

But if you’re a true entrepeneur, capitalist, or overachiever, you then sell that sweet-tangy nectar at your very own lemonade stand!

This summer, as part of our Brownie program for Girl Scouts, our troop was supposed to choose a project to make our community a better place.  Note the use of the singular adjective: A project.  One.  Majority rules.

Our troop, however, could not decide on a project.  No, all seven of our girls each voted for a different project.  So we ended up with no majority.  And you know what that means to an overachiever like me.  Yep, we’re doing all seven.   One per month for the entire school year.  Because that’s how we roll.

So each girl now gets to take the lead role in organizing and carrying out her chosen service project.  Crisana’s was to help the Samaritan Inn, Collin County’s only homeless shelter.  We drove by the Samaritan Inn regularly on our way to swim lessons this summer, and we could see the number of people waiting, even in the midst of the brutal heat, to get inside.  We heard about the overcrowding, the large numbers of children who were living there, and the way the Inn’s meager resources were being taxed trying to meet the needs of the most desperate in our community.  Crisana decided she wanted to help.  She contacted the Inn and spoke with one of the coordinators there to determine how our group of third-grade girls could make an impact.

Toilet paper and paper towels was the answer.

But I wanted this to be more than just having the girls ask their parents for money to buy toilet paper and paper towels.  I wanted the girls to have some sort of investment, to make some sort of sacrifice or effort to participate.  I wanted this to mean something to them.  I wanted them to give, not just physically but emotionally as well.

And so was born Crisana’s lemonade stand.

She sent out an email to the neighborhood advertising her stand this past Saturday and Sunday.  She spread the word through my facebook account and even sent an email to the principal at McGowen asking for permission to collect donations there.  She decided to sell lemonade and cookies, and to use the profits to purchase the needed supplies for the Samaritan Inn.  She set to work, making her sign, putting a tub out on our doorstep for donations, and squeezing lots and lots of lemons.  With a little help from mom and a few friends, she made 10 dozen chocolate chip cookies, 8 dozen sugar cookies (4 of which she frosted and decorated with a single candy corn), and 8 dozen oatmeal raisin cookies.  She bagged them in individual baggies and made nearly 6 gallons of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

And then we dragged it all down to the corner and set up shop.

One of her Brownie troop-mates joined us for the sale on Saturday, as well as a neighbor friend who is a Girl Scout Junior.  Thanks to a neighbor, we enjoyed shade from the brutal sun both days.  Thanks to other neighborhood children, we also enjoyed a nearly constant stream of customers and activity throughout the two-day event.

When it was all said and done, the pitchers were washed and the trash was bagged up and the cookies were eaten and the money was counted…we learned that she had earned a whopping $195.50.  That’ll buy a lot of toilet paper.

All because a little girl had a dream…had a passion…had a heart…and a lot of help.

I think we’ve already succeeded in making our community a better place.

I have to share with you a funny story that happened to me today while I was out for my run.

I have a  small shuffle player that I listen to while exercising – maybe not as cool as an iPod or iPhone, but it works for me.  The only downside is that I can’t create playlists on it, but I’m not much of a playlist kind of girl.  In fact, I enjoy being surprised by the often-eclectic mix I hear.  I like to think that some days God takes advantage of having a captive audience, when He has something He really wants to say to me. 

Well, today was apparently one of “those” days.  I had planned to go for one of my 10K training runs: 5 minutes of brisk walking to warm up, followed by 3 18-minute run intervals, with 1 minute walking recovery in between.  The course I use when I do these long runs is scenic and beautiful, with large acreage lots and horses and longhorns and two-lane country roads.  It’s also very hilly and challenging and pushes me to go beyond what I think I’m capable of doing.  Today, I was really struggling.  I had run out of gas after the first two run intervals and my hamstrings were unusually sore, so I decided to walk the majority of the last interval.  I used that time to pray and talk to God and seek His encouragement.  This song came on, and even though it’s one that I’ve heard probably hundreds of times, the words just really spoke to me:

For some reason, this song was just speaking to me in a powerful way.  I was crying out to God, “YES!!  That’s what I want!!  I want to shine like the stars!  I want to be YOUR light!”  It was a precious time of worship, even in the midst of a failed training run.  I just sensed God’s nearness and love and even His pleasure as my heart expressed my deepest desire to Him.

The song ended.  My soul was soaring.  My heart was overflowing.  My spirit was burning.   I could hardly wait to hear the next song.

And what should that next song be?  “La Bamba.”

Worship. was. over.

The mountaintop experience was gone.  Just like that.  I had to laugh.  I’m pretty sure God was laughing, too.  He has a sense of humor, ya know.

Isaiah 43:16  And I will lead the blind
in a way that they do not know,
in paths that they have not known
I will guide them.
I will turn the darkness before them into light,
the rough places into level ground.
These are the things I do,
and I do not forsake them.

One of the benefits of reading the entire Bible is that I discover verses I never knew existed.  Here all this time I thought Isaiah was just book of boring and confusing prophecy.  Imagine my surprise when I discover there’s poetry and wisdom…and encouragement!  Take this verse for example.  It just jumped off the page and right into my heart.  I love God’s matter of fact tone: This is what I do for you, because I am God.  Currently our church is engaged in a study of Exodus, and I’m struck by how beautifully this dovetails with that study…how Moses sought this exact reassurance from God before he acted.

But this verse speaks to me for another reason.  This weekend, we had two significant instances of God’s leading and guidance, further proof that God’s word is truth.

• On Saturday, Matt attended the annual NARI Home and Garden Show at Market Hall.  He intended to use this as both an educational experience – keeping up-to-date on the latest trends, needs, and materials for potential clients – as well as a marketing opportunity.   I had told him I wanted to pray over him before he went, but in the midst of Saturday morning busy-ness, I forgot.  While I was driving around, at about 11:15, God suddenly prompted me to pray, so I just started praying out loud in the car:   for Matt to make the right contacts, for the vendors to be receptive to him, for God to bring clients out of this experience.  All of a sudden, I just spontaneously started praying for God to ease Matt’s stress over his insurance situation.   It’s a long and complicated situation, but the clock is ticking and our options are severely limited.   When Matt arrived home that afternoon, he began telling me about his day: who he had talked to, how the conversations went, possible leads…and then he just said, “Oh, and here’s a random thing: I even talked to this one person who does insurance for small businesses, and I told them about my situation and they seem to think they’ll be able to help me!”  I asked him if he remembered about what time he talked to that person, and he said, “Probably around 11:15 or so.  Why?”  That’s when I told him how God prompted me to pray.  God “led the blind (me) in a way that they (I) did not know”, and could not possibly have anticipated: to pray for my husband and his insurance needs…at the exact moment he was speaking to someone at a home and garden show about small business insurance…because that is what God does!

• One of the songs that is particularly meaningful to Matt is Chris Tomlin’s “Our God.”  He really relates to the line “Our God is healer, awesome in power” as well as the bridge:  “And if our God is for us, then who can ever stop us, and if our God is with us, then what can stand against?”  For his birthday celebration on Saturday evening, Crisana gave him that Chris Tomlin CD.  I heard them listening to it and singing it together in his study afterward.  Yesterday, we had our first sermon in the Exodus series at church, a dynamic and powerful message about who God is (YHWH, the I Am).   The closing song was none other than “Our God.”   I could tell God was really speaking to Matt all day yesterday.  I could sense the energy and electricity in his spirit.  The message hit him powerfully, and God had his full attention.    After life group, I heard Matt up in the study listening to that song again on his computer.  I didn’t think much of it, just that he was enjoying his birthday present.  Suddenly, he comes down the stairs with a piece of paper in his hand.  He had printed his business logo 4 times diagonally down it, and above each logo he had written:

“If God is for…”(HMS Architecture)

“then who can stop…”(HMS Architecture)

“And if our God is with…”(HMS Architecture)

“Then what could stand against…”(HMS Architecture)

 He held it out to me and said, “This is HMS Architecture’s belief statement.  What do you think?”

What did I think?  AT that moment, what thoughts could I pull out of the swirling mix of emotion?

Wow.

Amazing.

Perfect.

True.

And finally, thank You.  Thank you, God, for speaking so powerfully to my husband.  Thank You for moving in his life and heart in such a dramatic and powerful way.  Thank You for “turning his darkness into light and the rough places into level ground.”  Thank You for being God – YHWH, the Almighty, the Everlasting, the I AM.  Thank you for doing “the things (You) do.”

Thank you for “not forsaking them.”  Or us.

Once upon a time, there were two families that were really good friends.  They did lots of things together.  But one of their favorite things to do was to go watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Except that the fireworks weren’t on the Fourth of July.  They were on the third of July.  At a place called Kaboom-Town.

The families would always bring picnic suppers, with festive food and patriotic treats to share.

They would watch the vintage airplanes doing their flyovers and aerobatic stunts.

And the kids would always have a great time hanging out together.

And after the picnic and the flyovers, the sky would grow dark and they’d have fun with glow sticks.

Finally, when it was all dark, the music would play and the fireworks show would start.  The families would “ooh” and “aah” over the beautiful colors and special effects of the pyrotechnics display.  And the dads would “ooh” and “aah” over the long lines of traffic that would build during the pyrotechnics display.

But even though it would take a long time to get home – sometimes an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less – the families would always have fun and promise to do it again the next year.

And they all celebrated their freedom happily ever after.

The end.

There’s an old proverb I once heard that fits our situation perfectly: “When the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

Okay, so it only works if by “cat” you mean “boys” and by “mice” you mean “girls”, and if by “will play” you mean “go on a road trip to look at bluebonnets.”  Ah, the nuances of language.

This Saturday was “B-Day”.  Code name: “Project Bluebonnets.”  A.K.A. “The Great Bluebonnet Adventure of 2011.”  Whatever you call it, it was definitely a day we won’t soon forget.

We started off fairly early, packing a picnic lunch and making sure we had our picnic blanket, camera, gas in the car, and a few outdoor games in case we found somewhere to hang around for awhile.  We drove to Garland to pick up Grandma for a true “Girls’ Day Out.”  She even had PROPS for our picture-taking.  Anticipation was high.  Excitement was in the air.  And beautiful rainbows of wildflowers – pink, red, yellow, white, blue, violet, and purple – dotted the highway as we sped along on our quest.

By the time we had nearly exhausted our repertoire of car games (I mean, seriously, how many times can YOU go on a picnic and bring apples, bananas, carrots…) we were nearing our exit.  My plan was to start at the south end of the map and work our way northward.  We exited onto a 2-lane Texas highway and our spirits soared.  We couldn’t wait to see what lay beyond us…

Like a horse in a garage, parked next to a car.  Only in Texas.  *shakes head*  (If I hadn’t been driving, I’d have taken a picture.  You’re just going to have to believe me on this one. )

But as far as bluebonnets?  Notsomuch.

Trailer homes?  Yes.  Lots and lots of them.  Dotting the hillsides with their redneck beauty.

But bluebonnets?  Not really.

Cows and horses, standing in stock ponds to drink, or nibbling on dry grasses and hay?  Yep.  We saw ‘em.   And our mouths watered for Bar-b-cue.

But bluebonnets?  Nope.

Finally, in desperation, we pulled into a gas station to ask for help.  The woman behind the counter directed us to continue along our path about a mile where there would be some parks that “should” have bluebonnets and rangers to provide further assistance.

So we did.  And we ended up at a nature preserve on the shores of Bardwell Reservoir, which we decided was a perfect place to have a picnic lunch.  In gale-force winds.

We managed – somehow – to enjoy our lunch without having it all fly into the lake or end up in the treetops.  And then it was time for some pictures with the little patch of bluebonnets we *did* manage to find.

It wasn’t exactly a field covered in bluebonnets, but it was a pretty view from our picnic table.

It’s virtually a requirement in Texas to have at least one picture of your children sitting in a field of bluebonnets.  I’m so glad I can now cross *that* off my list.

Those whitecaps on the water?  Caused by *WIND*, I tell you.  Not by currents or boats or gravity or the pull of the moon.  No.  The *WIND* was blowing those waves toward shore.

We have learned that contrary to popular lore, it is technically *NOT* illegal to pick bluebonnets.  But just to be on the safe side, let me assure you that no bluebonnets were picked in the taking of this picture.

Crisana staged this photo on her own.  She told me where to stand and what she wanted in the picture.

We also learned that bluebonnets are very fragrant.  And it’s even a pretty fragrance.

And of course, there were moments of silliness and fun in the midst of our botched adventure.

We ended our day in the most appropriate way: with a stop on the way home at Dairy Queen.  A chocolate-dipped cone brightens any day.

Yes, “The Great Bluebonnet Adventure of 2011″ may have left us feeling blue.  It certainly wasn’t “Great” nor particularly filled with “Bluebonnets”.  But the memories we created and the fun of our “Adventure” certainly left us tickled pink.

It’s my birthday.  But I’m not going to tell you how old I am.  The people at Chili’s told everyone I’m celebrating 21.  And they’re right.  This is the 21st celebration of my 21st birthday.  I promise you, I remember it just like it was yesterday, which I’m truly convinced it was.

In an effort to stay connected to the younger generation, to be “hip” and “cool” and “with it”, I’ve learned how to text.  It’s lots of fun, but I have to say as a teacher, lover of language, and English minor, some of the acronyms and shortcuts really had me scratching my head trying to figure it all out.  Thankfully, a Facebook friend who was herself  an English major and therefore smarter than me (and also *older* than me) provided me with this explanation to help me decipher those cryptic messages.

MIDDLE AGE TEXTING CODES:
ATD -at the doctors.
BFF -best friend fell.
BTW -bring the wheelchair.
BYOT -bring your own teeth.
FWIW -forgot where I was.
GGPBL –gotta go, pacemaker battery low.
GHA -got heartburn again.
IMHO -is my hearing aid on.
LMDO -laughing my dentures out.
OMMR -on my massage recliner.
OMSG -oh my! sorry, gas.
ROFLACGU -rolling on floor laughing and can’t get up.
TTYL -talk to you louder

See?  42 really *is* the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

********DISCLAIMER*********

This is girlfriend humor at its finest.  Boys are welcome to read at your own risk.  But don’t say I didnt’ warn you.

Part of the joy of growing older is the way “routine” medical checkups begin to change.  Suddenly, doctors are very interested in the most private parts of your body, needing to test and retest and check and screen things you have kept hidden away since you were swaddled in your very first baby blanket.

Now that I’m part of the “over-40″ crowd, I get to join the fun.  Right now, things are pretty simple.  Once a year, I have the privilege of enduring the booby-squishing that ensures my “sisters” are healthy and happy.  Today was that day.  And while the medical community continues to assert that “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”, I’m going to stick with the mantra, “laughter is the BEST medicine.”

So it is in that spirit that I offer you this bit of humor, sent to me from a friend.  I’m sure all my girlfriends will appreciate it.

A man walked into the ladies department of a Macy’s department store and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, “I’d like to buy a bra for my wife.”

“What type of bra?” asked the clerk.

“Type?” inquires the man, “There’s more than one type?”

“Look around,” said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material imaginable. “Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose from.”

Relieved, the man asked about the types.

The saleslady replied: “There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist  types. Which one would you prefer?”

Now, totally befuddled, the man asks about the differences between them. The saleslady responds, “It is all really quite simple. ..
the Catholic type Supports the masses;
the Salvation Army type lifts the fallen;
the Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright; and
the Baptist makes mountains out of molehills.”
***************************************
Have you ever wondered why A, B, C, D, DD, E, F, G, and H are the letters used to define bra sizes? If you have wondered why but couldn’t figure out what the letters stood for, it is about time you became informed!
(A} Almost Boobs…
{B} Barely there…
{C} Can’t Complain!…
{D} Dang!…
{DD} Double dang!…..
{E} Enormous!…
{F} Fake…
{G} Get a Reduction…
{H} Help me, I’ve fallen And I can’t get up!…
****************************************
They forgot the German bra, Holtzemfromfloppen

It’s that time of year again.  The time of year when our calendars explode with parties, get-togethers, and activities.  The time of year when our days are filled with errands and shopping.  The time of year when our to-do lists become overcrowded with baking and cleaning and decorating and wrapping Christmas presents and addressing Christmas cards.  The time of year when our cars become our offices, with places to go and people to see.  The time of year when we sing carols like “Silent Night”, “Joy to the World”, and “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” but our lives are far from silent or joyful or restful.  The time of year when we are easily overwhelmed.

That’s how it is this year for me.  I’m completely overwhelmed.

But not by the busy-ness or the shopping or the decorating.  In fact, that’s been the easiest, most stress-free part of my Christmas season.  I’m overwhelmed for a completely different reason.  Maybe this clip will help you understand why.

At this season of hope, peace, and joy, we found ourselves much like George Bailey.  Hopeless, despairing, wondering…does God really hear our prayers?  Why is He so silent? And although we weren’t to the point of wishing we had never been born, we began to ask the hard questions about ourselves, about our situation, about God.  As we celebrate the birth of Immanuel – God with us – it seemed as though we were alone, without answers or leading or direction.  And so, in my desperation, I cried out to God for hope.  Needing a touch, a word of encouragement, a tangible expression of His love and care, I put my emotions “out there”…hoping that someone, anyone, would be that voice.

Two weeks later, I’m simply overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed by my God, who has sent His angels in the form of friends and family to demonstrate His presence.  Not a day has gone by in the past fourteen days that we haven’t received a surprise blessing.  At first, it was with words…words of encouragement and healing.  Words of hope and promise.  Verbal hugs and the reassurance that we are, in fact, not alone.  That we have friends and family interceding for us, bearing our burdens with us, and standing in the gap for us.

But then things began to change.  One day, out of the blue, I received a Target gift card in the mail…from “A Friendly Elf.”  An elf who felt led to provide us with enough money on the gift card to stuff all four stockings hanging on the mantel.  Then it was a single large bill tucked into a sweet card handed to me by a close friend, along with a bag filled with gifts for all four of us and gift cards for the kids.  The next day, Matt found a significant amount of cash slipped into his hand…enough cash to purchase all our family’s Christmas presents, Mom and Dad included.  On Sunday, as I was serving at church, a staff member handed me the official Promiseland Christmas card along with another envelope…containing another large bill placed in an unsigned card.  And then a Kroger gift card appeared in our mailbox with enough funds to purchase our family’s groceries for nearly two months.

On and on it has gone.  A ham now sits in our family’s refrigerator, thanks to the generosity of friends.  Santa has been able to provide gifts not just for Trey and Crisana but for Matt and I, too, thanks to our families.  Someone dropped by with a plate of cookies this afternoon…with a generous gift card attached.  A sweet friend and partner in ministry handed me a bag filled with gifts for the children and us, along with a PF Chang’s gift card which – along with another generous gift card to Cinemark, from a different friend – funded the Inaugural HMS Architects Christmas Party this week.  Trey’s Sunday School teachers are purchasing a much wished-for DS game for him.  We’ve been told to expect a visit from a true “St. Nick” this week, along with the promise of help in the future should it be needed.

I’m deeply humbled.  Humbled by the staggering amount of love and support we’re being shown.  Humbled by the help that’s being offered.  Humbled by the grace God is showing me, despite my unbelief.  Humbled to be the recipient of such amazing generosity.

Clarence the Angel said it best: “No man is a failure who has friends.”

And so we are deeply grateful to our friends.  We are truly overwhelmed…and wonderfully so.

Hold on to your hats, friends, because I’m about to do something I don’t do very often:  I’m going to ask for help.

For reals.

Seriously, “the funk” has descended on the Speer home in full force during this time of joy and cheer.  The depression and discouragement hangs like the thick, wet blanket it is, so heavy it’s almost tangible.  Though we’ve decked the halls and trimmed the tree, strung up the lights and hung the holly, I’m still searching the depths of my soul for that elusive “Christmas spirit.”  And though I’m trying VERY hard to be excited for my friends, who in their excitement are sharing pictures and posts of their new cars, ipads, giant tv’s, jewelry, trips, and new houses through the wonder that is Facebook, I can’t help but feel a great sadness when I look under our tree and see…NOTHING.

For so many reasons, and in so many ways, this is foreign territory to me.  I’m usually an optimist.  I can typically find the silver lining to any bad situation.  I’m pretty self-reliant and will find a way to plow through whatever hardship, or difficulty, or pain I’m experiencing.  I’m not used to depression.  I don’t like feeling down.  I try hard not to be a regular attender at pity parties, whether they be mine or not.  But reality has hit us full force, and we’re in *that* place:

We’re out of money.

We’re out of options.

We’re out of hope.

And through it all, God seems to be silent.

As this unemployment drags on to unprecedented levels in our experience, we see no answers.  We have cried out to God constantly.  We have brought our requests, we have approached boldly in faith, we have asked…and asked…and asked, persistently.  We have humbled ourselves, opened our hands, and sought His leading.  We have committed ourselves to His purpose.  We have searched our hearts and opened our minds to allow Him to remove whatever may be in the way between us and Him.  We have thanked Him for the provision He has given thus far, and been grateful for the way He has sustained us.  We have entrusted this whole process to Him, believing that He knows what’s best for us.

And still…nothing.

If I’m being totally honest, this whole “faith” thing is hard.  This “trusting” is difficult.  And there are moments – like yesterday – when we are tempted to give up.  To quit the struggle.  To give in to the doubts, fears, and depression that nag away at our soul and weary our spirit.  To allow the stress and pressure to divide us from one another and tear us apart, internally and externally.

It’s at times like these that I desperately need to know that God’s word is true.  That He is who He says He is.  That those promises He made throughout scripture are real.  That He will stand by and honor His commitment.  That nothing – and I mean *nothing* – about Him is in any way flawed, or misunderstood, or corrupt, or wrong.  That He is as solid and unmoveable as a Rock, that He is absolutely, completely, and utterly secure.  That He is totally faithful.  That I can count on Him, no matter what.

As I look into the stories of the great men and women of faith, I long to be like them.  I desire to leave a legacy of godliness and faith in the midst of desperate circumstances.  I want to be characterized by an obedience and commitment to following Him in the face of great challenges and difficulties.  I crave the kind of intimacy and fellowship they had with Yahweh…Jehovah…Adonai…Abba.  Despite their shortcomings and failures, they were chosen as His examples to us: examples of faith, of trusting, of obedience, of commitment.

So how appropriate is it, then, that this funk descends during the time of year when we celebrate Immanuel…God With Us.  The fulfillment of hundreds – even thousands – of years of promises, of waiting, of searching and hoping and dreaming.  God with us physically, as His Son shed his kingly robe of God-ness for an earthly suit of humanity.  God with us existentially, as the One not bound by time stepped out of eternity for a lifespan of 33 years.  God with us philosophically, as His teachings became living epistles, a spoken word, a healing touch.  God with us spiritually, as He conquered death to live again.

It is that nearness that we so desperately cling to.  It is that closeness that will assure us of an end to our troubles.  It is that intimacy that will be our strength through whatever may lie ahead.  It is that promise – Immanuel, God is with us – that will be our joy, our hope, and our strength.

It is that promise – Immanuel, God is with us – that will be our help.

And it is on that promise - Immanuel, God is with us – that we will have peace.