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<p>What if we decided to live the ordinary moments of our life like they really matter. What if we expended ourselves completely to what now seems like randomness. What if we became resolute to actually “do all to the glory of God”?</p>
<p>The funny thing about faith is that you can preach it all day long, but you can’t prove it until you need it. And it’s the needing it that none of us wants. It’s in the needing it that I perceive God’s betrayal.</p>
<p>E.L. Doctrow said, “Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” I love this, even though it is not at all the way I write. It’s not the way I live either, and I think I rob myself of some joy in the journey because of it. Control. I want control.</p>
<p>We live in a sound-byte world that goes past us faster than a fleeting thought. We are facebook post shallow and Pinterest pointed. If it sounds good…we say it. Or copy it. Or circulate it. But we rarely take time to test those thoughts before we present them to the world as our truth. But folks, words matter.</p>
<p>On August 1st my family hit the ground running knowing that we wouldn’t have time to stop and look behind us until the week of Thanksgiving.</p>
<p>What solo has God given you to play for His enjoyment? Is it managing your household budget? Do it like a boss! Is it noticing the downcast and sharing encouragement? Play it with feeling! Is it enduring another piano lesson? Give it some passion! Is it wiping the drool off your baby’s (or mother’s) chin? It’s a beautiful thing!</p>
<p>I have not had the opportunity to share my testimony with any of you and one day I hope the Lord provides that in the proper context of a comfy chair, a cuppa sumpin, fuzzy slippers, and a warm lap blanket (Can you tell that it’s cold here?).</p>
<p>Today is the Winter Solstice. It’s one of my favorite days of the year, not because of any merit in the day itself, but because it marks the turning point where darkness begins to recede and light begins to return.</p>
<p>As I was leaving the Walmart yesterday and zipping down the street, I saw a man with a sign. You know the one. Only this time was different. This man had two little girls with him. Grubby little girls. In ill fitting clothes. With wild hair. And dead eyes.</p>
<p>Yesterday, while making a sandwich, I saw the evidence of Paul’s Romans 7 struggle worked out in me physically. My flesh apparently thought that I had been a bit skimpy with the spread, while the Spirit within believed that, although all things are permissible, one swipe of the white wonder was plenty. I watched with detached objectivity as the conflict worked itself out bodily.</p>