Jed Pepper can’t get his young love, Daisy, out of his mind. Thirty years later, he stands amidst the empty ruins of the church where they met, still haunted by her memory.

A charming and mysterious girl, Daisy Chance has the kind of personality that draws people in like fireflies to a warm light, pulling them towards her again and again. In the dusty heat of Defiance, Texas, Daisy seems out of place. Too vibrant for such a lost and lonely town.  Irresistible for someone like Jed.

When Daisy goes missing, leaving behind nothing but her shoe, the search for what happened to her leaves the whole town questioning each other and wondering if one of them could be capable of harming such a lively young girl.

The last to see her, Jed sets out on a quest to find Daisy and the love she so freely gave to him. But, when shoes go missing from the backyards of other Defiance children, he realizes there is something much deeper and much more dangerous going on.

Mary DeMuth builds her characters a memorable place in our minds. A place they settle into and stay behind long after the book is completed. With tenderness and sincerity she touches on difficult subjects to expose the secrets that lie in her characters hearts. Though the subject matter is often painful, DeMuth reveals her characters to us in gradual unveilings that cause us to care so much for them that we must continue through to the end.

Though the questions about Daisy remain unanswered in this first book of the trilogy, it is the other characters deep affection for her that leaves you waiting and anticipating the next morsel of information that will lead to the truth about what happened. Not a light read, but a deeply moving one.

        

Last night, I made homemade sourdough bread for my family.

Okay.  Maybe not TOTALLY homemade, but there was a bowl, a mix and some kneading involved.  As homemade as it gets these days.

As I prepared the dough, I made sure to follow the directions exactly knowing that (from past experiences) not giving the bread the right amount of time to get ready would result in a big, lumpy mess. 

Even knowing this however, when I got to the kneading part, I created a short cut.  I mean really.  Is it REALLY necessary to knead dough for 15 full minutes before putting it in a pan?  I didn't think so.  So, I cut it to ten minutes.  Then, I stopped at five.  What can I say?  My two year old showed up soaking wet and covered in grass after sitting too close to the sprinklers.

As dinner preparation came to a close, I checked the oven to see how my bread was coming along.  It smelled delicious.  The top was golden and crusty.  But, it seemed to have stunted growth.  It was only half of what it could have been.  I was a little embarrassed to even put it on the table in front of three little ones who have a knack for pointing out the obvious. Though it still tasted good, and I even got complements on it, I knew it wasn't right.  It could have been better.  And, it was all due to hurried efforts.  An unwillingness to put in the time needed to make it right.

It reminded me of another short cut I sometimes take when life gets busy.  My time with God.  While I strive to spend time with Him each day, as my days get crazier I sometimes cut my Bible study or prayer time short.  Whenever I do this, my week has a way of getting crazier and more stressful.  I can always tell when I'm taking shortcuts in growing my faith because I begin to feel as if I'm stunted in some way.  As if I'm not as connected to Him as I could be.  And, it's during those times that I tend to do things that are embarrassing or that I regret in my relationships with others.

Can you relate?

Can you tell a difference in how you feel each day based on whether or not you've drawn near to God?  On days that you do, do you feel better as a whole?  What about days that you don't?

Isaiah 26:3 says

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you."

Want peace in your life?  Stay committed in your walk with God.  Daily.  Share your struggles, your joys and your gratitude with Him for all aspects of your day.  Finding peace is easy.  Keeping it takes commitment and a willingness to put in the time.  Some short cuts aren't worth it.  Be steadfast in your efforts.  You will be glad for the results.

        

If you don't already know this about me, I think I should tell you: I don't speak "girl-speak".

In fact, when it comes to the secret language of women, I'm totally clueless.  I grew up with boys.  I learned to communicate directly or be forced to act out the entire Star Wars saga for eternity.  I mean, sometimes you just want to play Wonder Woman, you know?

So, I've found myself in interesting situations throughout my life where I am surrounded by women who speak a secret language of sorts, for which I have no dictionary or interpreter.  It puts me at a disadvantage and can sometimes cause hurt feelings that I didn't realize were being hurt.

Many times I've sat in large groups of women as they've gone round-and-round a subject to no avail.  Quite frequently, I become the one that feels the urgent need to stop the merry-go-round by making a blunt statement or pointing out the obvious answer so we can move on.  You can imagine how popular I am in these moments.  I never seem to understand that many are enjoying the ride.

Just this week a friend and I planned to get together.  Due to some technical difficulties via text (I'm an adamant hater of cell phones by the way) we completely missed each others point for two days, due mostly to "girl-speak".  My sweet friend had planned on me coming over, had prepared some special treats and waited for me to pop in.  I, on the other hand, had taken her cue of "you can stop by if you want to, or not" to mean that she'd really rather I didn't. 

After an entire weekend of missing each others point, and probably a very fun time together, we both had hurt feelings.  All because --you guessed it--me no speaky "girl" language.

Apparently, I speak boy.  I'm use to directness.  When I hear the slightest opportunity for an out in someones invite, I assume they are placing it there for a reason.  They want an out.  So, being the polite Southerner that I am, I always give it.  But (and I'm a slow learner) sometimes, they are placing the "out" there simply out of politeness on their part.  They don't want you to take it. 

Ahhhh....

This isn't the only language barrier I have.

I often feel this very same way in my conversations with God.  If I pray for something that I'm not sure He would want me to be pursuing, I offer an "out".  Not, of course, that He ever needs one.  But, I sometimes feel obligated to say something like "But if that's not your plan for me God, it's okay."  When deep inside my heart, it is NOT okay.  I really, really want my prayer to be answered. Which, of course, He totally knows.

Recently, I've become more direct in my prayers.  I've come right out and specifically asked for exactly what I want, unapologetically.  Knowing that as long as I am asking for something that does not go against my faith, He will provide.  And amazingly, He has.

John 15:7 says:
Jesus said, "If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given to you."

If we remain in Him and He is in us, He will give us that for which we pray.  This has parameters, of course, knowing that what we ask for must be within the boundaries of  faith, but Jesus tells us to ask.  He tells us to be direct. 

So I write this to encourage you today.  If you are struggling , take it directly to God.  Keep up your relationship with Him.  Stay in His word.  Study what He may say about your very situation.  Then . . . be direct. Pray for what you need.  Pray for what you want.  Knowing that He is asking you to. He knows your every want and need, your every hope and desire, and He longs for you to bring them to Him.  Ask. 

        

We're having issues at my house. 

As my young daughter inches further along in her tween years, I'm starting to understand why the category "tween" was invented.  At the age of nearly ten, she is quickly resembling more and more of what I was like as a teen.  I'm amazed at the level of intelligence and savvy of children at this age.  She has far surpassed where I was emotionally and mentally at the age of 10.  And, I have to say, I don't like seeing it.  With every request her father and I make, eyes roll and lungs exhale.  When correction is needed, she balks as if we have crossed the line in our relationship with her.  And, when firm action is taken we are flat out informed of the unfair / mean / rude / disrespectful (okay, she is mocking us) / hurtful parents we have become.

Even when she fully understands that what she is doing is of her own will, when trouble finds her she must blame someone.  Always, someone else.

As I listen to tones in her voice that make me cringe, I think back to my own mother and wonder how she made it through. (Thanks mom!) Surely, I didn't start at this age?  I mean, I clearly remember being a bundle of joy until the age of oh . . . fourteen, right? 

As struggles ensue on a daily basis, I often come out on the losing end of these battles.  Not that I don't get my point across, and not that she doesn't comply (forced to comply is still comply), it's that I feel like a horrible, mean, scary and terrible mother for being so hard on her. 

My greatest desire for my daughter is that she grows to see herself as God sees her, not as the world sees her.  I want her to understand that rules are made for her protection, not her fun-prevention.  And, I want her to feel that she is deeply, deeply loved by her family . . . but most especially by her mother.

It's frustrating.

At the same time in our home, I'm having some issues of my own.  Recently, my career came to a crashing halt as I was laid off and soon found that the textile industry has shrunken to a mere speck of its former glory.  While I was actually relieved in many ways, and glad to pursue other things of interest, it has been nagging at me.  With seething undertones.  In the middle of the night.

I struggle with this fact on a daily basis.  And, while I am determined to stay on the positive side of the fence, someone is clearly trying to pull me to the negative.  It has caused me to cry out to God more than once, asking Him for direction.  Begging Him to let me in on the little secret known as: my future. And, I would imagine, I'm not exactly the picture perfect child in these moments.  Perhaps whiny even, as I long to know Whhhyyyy.

Though I don't find myself blaming God for my predicament, I do feel the need to blame someone.  And, I don't like that.  However, the thoughts in my mind have led me to realize how similar to my tween I've become.  So frustrated over trying to follow someone else's rules.  So helpless as to what decisions they will make.  And so quick to judge when they don't go the direction I want them to.

Funny isn't it?  How the things we struggle the most with our children are often the very same things which we are struggling with God?  I feel Him telling me to be patient.  I know He will show me in due time.  And, I know throughout it all that I will be ok because of His deep, deep love for me.  But, it's still not easy.

As I struggle in my obedience to God, I am reminded that it is the very same struggle my daughter is having with my authority.  And, I'm reminded that in order for her to feel safe, secure and loved, the best thing I can do for her is to remain constant.  To stand with her, and to love her like crazy even when she seems unlovable. 

I know that is what God is doing for me.  I pray that I can follow His perfect example.

        

Love Finds You in Humble, Texas by Anita Higman is the latest in the Love Finds You series by Summerside Press. This sweet, lighthearted read will leave you wishing the characters were real . . . and lived next door.




Trudie Abernathy is like many women you know: warm, funny and often imperfect.  Her sister Lane is the sister you’d love to have but are glad you don’t: beautiful, ambitious and determined to help Trudie improve.

As Trudie’s thirtieth birthday approaches, Lane insists that what she needs most in life is a new look and a new chance at love.  She treats Trudie to a makeover and insists on allowing a blind date to share their dinner celebration.  When Trudie hears that the date is a man that Lane has “passed” on, she is sure she will be forced to spend  her birthday with someone atrocious.  But, when she finds herself sitting next to Mason Wimberley, a handsome and charming businessman who seems to “get” her quirky sense of humor, Trudie is smitten.

As the dinner evolves, so does a love triangle. Lane realizes her feelings for Mason as she watches him dote on her sister.

Unaware of Lane’s feelings, Mason makes his affection for Trudie clear and immediately begins to pursue her.  But when Lane reveals to Trudie that she is in love with Mason, Trudie removes herself from the relationship out of a greater love for her sister than for herself.  Still, she is devastated and struggles to get her mind around the choice she has made and to get Mason to divert his attention to Lane.

This is a funny and engaging look at the lengths that people will go to in order to protect and care for the ones they love.  This love triangle, shared by sisters who care tremendously for one another, gives an interesting angle that will have you boucing back and forth between characters and choosing sides.  Anita Higman pens an enjoyable read that will leave you smiling from the building kinship you feel with her characters.

 

        

If patience is a virtue, where does that leave me?

I've had a bad week.  Actually, a couple of them.  Difficult weeks.  Taxing weeks.  And they don't seem to be getting any better even after a relaxing weekend.  Not good for a mom of three who lives for that breath of relief that only comes late Friday afternoon.

Two weeks ago, my company implemented a layoff of my entire division.  Sixty people gone in an instant.  No warning.  No notice whatsoever.  Sold to another corporation while we stood by helplessly and wondered what would happen to all of the hard work we'd put in over the years.  Such is the nature of textiles. 

It's not the first time I've gone through this.  In fact, I've been down this path several times, as have most of the people in my industry.  This is however, the first time that the layoff has been painfully stretched across the span of two weeks.  Thus, my impatience.

After being told on a Tuesday that our company was sold, employees were shuffled into two piles.  In pile #1 were those that would be interviewed by the new company to be considered for the few remaining spots they needed to fill.  Pile #2 would dangle precariously for eternity while the original company decided whether or not to continue using them in the business.  Well . . . that's not exactly how they put it.  But, can you guess which pile I'm in?  Yes, pile #2.  I'm lucky like that.

Normally, I'm a very patient person.  In fact, I was so calm over all of this through the first ten days, my husband was seriously concerned that I was having some kind of silent mental breakdown.  I wasn't.  I have a strong faith and felt totally assured that God would take care of me and my family through all of this.  I was just waiting to see what He would do.  The direction He would lead me in next.

When my boss called the Friday after the layoff to say it would be a few more days, I wasn't the least bit upset.  I prayed that God would lead them to the right decision for me, whatever that might be.

When she called on day eight to say it would be two more days, I thought "OK.  This is all part of the plan.  I can wait a couple more days to discover my new path in life."

When she called again, on the second Friday night, to say it would be a few more days, I . . . well . . . I sort of snapped.  My husband longed for a silent breakdown.

Of course, my lovely family was in the crosshairs.  My poor children could not whine within fifty feet of me without being sent to their rooms.  My dogs couldn't even request a trip outside to potty without me reprimanding "Really?! Again?!"  Not the best days I've seen.

While only days before, a close friend praised me for being a "Godly woman" during this fiasco, I was starting to wonder if all of that was just a facade.  If, when it came right down to it, I didn't have enough faith.

My patience was gone and I began to feel pretty bad about myself.  Not for losing my job, which incredibly, I'm still not fazed by.  But for only lasting ten days relying on God to lead.  A mere ten days and the unraveling began. It led me to some serious thinking.

One of my favorite parts of the Bible is Exodus.  After God freed His people from lives of brutal slavery in Egypt, they followed Him through the desert for forty years of whining and complaining.  OK.  The Bible doesn't quite put it that way, but that is essentially what happened.

People who had food rain down from heaven on a nightly basis would get up the next day and complain about the blandness of their diet.  People who followed a fire in the sky would whine about why God had left them to die in the desert.  Really?! With signs and miracles right in front of their faces? They couldn't see that God was with them? I love those guys.  They are so real.  And, I can totally relate.

While God travelled with them and provided their every need, they whined and complained without ceasing.  So I have to wonder, why am I so surprised to find myself doing the same?

As I continue through my Bible-in-a-year reading this morning (now on year two), I came across the following verses:

"The Lord directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?" Proverbs 20:24

"Wait patiently for the Lord.  Be brave and courageous.  Yes, wait patiently for the Lord." Psalm 27:14

He meant those for me today.  And, I really needed to hear them.  I feel my patience renewing.  Sure, I'm not going to wait forever on my company to decide -- who can do that in times like these?  But, I am willing to wait on God.  To make sure that every decision I make is done so prayerfully.  To listen and learn from what He places before me.  To see the signs and miracles right in front of my face.  For those things, I am grateful.  For renewed strength, I am thankful.  And for God's plan for me, I will be patient. 

        

Looking for a great read?  The Missionary by William Carmichael and David Lambert hits shelves next week.  Or -- preorder through Amazon and get ready for a page turner.

Dave Eller, an American missionary in the barrios of Caracas has a passion for saving the impoverished children so prevalent amongst him.  While he dutifully tends to the orphanage he and his wife Christie have been called to serve, he remains unsettled with thoughts of the many others that he can't reach.  Angry at the Venezuelan government and the policies that fail to protect these children, David is all to eager to accept a questionable opportunity from a wealthy business man who promises a generous donation to the orphanage in exchange for a small favor that goes against the country's leaders.

When the deal does not go as expected, David's history of publicly denouncing the government makes him a target for an investigation that might uncover his recent impropriety. Realizing his mistake, David becomes unsure if he is helping a government operative, the CIA, or drug cartel. He quickly falls into a nightmarish reality of espionage and a covert existence that leaves him with the possibility of losing his ministry, his family and his very life.

This gripping novel presents unexpected twists and tension that will keep you holding your breath until the very last page. With vivid detail, Authors William Carmichael and David Lambert pull us into the contrasting beauty of Venezuela and the corrupt government that taints its citizen’s lives.

Not only will the novel keep you up at night and hiding in the closet for a spare moment to read, it will leave you questioning the times you've turned up the volume on your own voice louder than that of God's, who was nudging towards another path.  As The Missionary shows us, the choice is ultimately ours, even if it places us in grave danger.

Due out March 1, 2009.

        

I have always hated my minivan. 

Truly.  From the very first day we bought it until now, four years later, I have loathed it.  I still don't like the guy who sold it to me, even though I freely walked up to him and asked him for it.  I feel like a big idiot driving around in it.  Like I've totally given in to the mommy-vacuum by purchasing it.  And, I hate how I'm more concerned about trash containment of cheerios and oreos than my pre-van concerns of whether or not I would look good in red or black. 

Unfortunately, my van has taken my loathing personally.  In the span of four years, 18 things have broken on it.  From the am/fm switch cracking in half and falling off to much larger issues that have left us stranded on the side of the road.

Our last evil-minivan episode occurred over the holidays when a death in the family led us to leave town the day after Christmas.  We made our way towards Virginia and stopped what seemed like five minutes later for a bathroom break (No.  She didn't go before we left the house).  As we pulled over, smoke began pouring from the engine.  After checking under the hood, my husband quelled our fears, added some fluid and we continued on our trip.

Thirty more miles down the road, it started again.  And the crying began. Our kids were terrified of the smoking car and began a crying opera that rivaled a Pavarotti performance.  My husband checked it again, added fluid and continued on a little less sure of himself. 

"I don't want to die!"

"The car's on fire!" bellowed from the back seat. 

I wanted to join them. Instead, we stopped every thirty minutes adding fluid and waving smoke away as the longest trip in Virginia history was recorded.  We managed to make it to our destination in only twice the time, missing the evening wake.

The next day we dropped the car at a local shop and went on to the funeral.  Hours later we learned that it would be days before the car could be serviced with no idea how to estimate the cost.  Our Christmas gift to our kids was a mini vacation.  It looked as if that would be canceled. More crying ensued.

My husbands family stepped in and generously offered us a car to drive until we could come back to retrieve our own.  After his funeral, we piled into Uncle Delwin's car and headed South. It was a humbling experience driving that car.

Like everything in his life, Uncle Delwin had taken excellent care of his 1992 Lincoln.  After 16 years of use, it was in better shape and was a striking contrast to our minivan of four years.  There were no cup holders, dvd players or automatic lights.  The back seat was large enough for two small children to completely stretch out and fall asleep on.  The backseat also sat incredibly close to the front, making me realize within an hour why parents in the eighties felt the need to use "the arm" as a method of correction.  The trunk was twice as large as the minivan's storage area.  It's seats were worn, and carpet stained.  It had few amenities, yet drove beautifully. 

It made me think a lot about Uncle Delwin and his priorities.  As an aerospace engineer for NASA, he was so unassuming, you would never know that he'd spent his career doing things of which most of us could only dream.  His house contained awards and items of recognition in such inconspicuous places (behind the basement bookshelf), that you would never come to know that he'd been inducted into the Aerospace Hall of Fame, or won awards for developing Hang Glider technology, if someone else had not revealed this information to you.  His priority was his family.  Nothing else mattered.

Though he easily could have lived in a larger house, driven new cars every few years, and spent lavishly on anything he wanted, he didn't.  I began thinking over how hectic our lives had become, the many bad financial decisions we'd made over needless purchases, and why the rest of the world seemed to mimic our steps more than some one more deserving.  Someone like Delwin. 

In the seven hour trip down to Florida, I began to make a new plan for my family.  I wanted to be like Delwin.  I wanted to be more concerned with the big things than the little things.  I wanted to stop being so ungrateful for the things I did have.

Then, it happened.  Fifteen miles from our hotel, the Lincoln died.  As we pulled over to a side road, my kids hit a new level of inconsolable. And I began to join them.  As I sat crying in the passenger seat, watching my husband melt down outside of the car, I looked up into the clouds as the words "Jesus Loves You" formed in airplane writing across the skies.  I kid you not.  That happened.

Hebrews 13:5 says "Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

I realized in that moment that I had not been content in my life.  Like many others today, I'd spent years chasing after things that truly had little significance.  The reason I'd been so taken aback by Delwin is because he so resembled who I longed to be most like : Jesus.

As it turned out, the repair on the Lincoln was very minor.  Something even the Fedex guy that helped us push it out of traffic was able to diagnose.  However, the redirection I needed would not be as easy.  But, I'm focusing on it.  After years of living without thinking, I'm forming a new plan of how things should be.  And, it's all thanks to Uncle Delwin.  I miss him now more than ever.

        

    I can't sit still.  

    It's ingrained in me and I can't make it stop.  (Please, someone make it stop!) Not that I don't enjoy downtime, or vacations or the like.  But, if I'm at home and everyone has what they need, I'd much rather be doing something with my time than sitting still.  If I'm watching television, I'm also reading a book.  If I'm cooking dinner, I'm also unloading the dishes or folding laundry.  If I'm laying down with my kids at night to help them sleep, I'm also going through a writing idea in my mind.  

    I have an internal agenda that can get in the way of everything if I let it.  My to-do list is to be outdone by no other than a computer repair manual.  It goes on for pages and is updated daily.  I have to literally keep myself in check constantly, making sure that what I am doing is what God would have me to do, not what I feel I should do.  

    It seems as if my mind is on a 20 hour schedule that my 16 hour body struggles to keep up with.  Even when I force myself to stop "doing", my mind keeps at it long into the night. And I find that it is often during my busiest times that I realize I'm listening too much to my own voice and not enough to God's.  

    Why can't I just get out of my own way?

    I love the words in Psalm 46:  "Be still, and know that I am God!" I like the image of that.  Being still.  Letting God take over.  Having someone else carry the load for a change.  But is God asking us to be still so that He can do all of the work, or is He asking us to stop in order to pay attention?

    In Exodus 14, God led the people of Israel towards the Red Sea and instructed them to camp beside the shore.  Then He hardened Pharoh's heart to the point that he decided to chase after the very slaves that he had just freed.  As Pharoah approached them, the Isralites began crying out to Moses saying "Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness?  What have you done to us?"  In response, Moses told them "Don't be afraid.  Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today.  The Lord himself will fight for you.  Just stay calm."  That would have sounded great to me.  Just hang out here, let God take care of your needs.

    But, as they were waiting on the Lord to move, He said to Moses "Why are you crying out to me? Tell the people to get moving!"  It was only then that Moses raised his staff and the Red Sea parted.  It was only after their action, their part in the plan, that this miraculous work of God took place.

    I love this part of the story.  It shakes me up.  It makes me realize that although God loves us and has promised to take care of us, our relationship with him is not passive.  He calls us to play a part in His plan.  "Why are you crying out to me?" He says.  "Tell the people to get moving!"  Get a move on, so His work can be completed.

    The "being still" isn't so much that He wants us to physically still our bodies, as He wants us to still our racing minds, our need for control, our unending to-do list that not only can distract us from what He is trying to do, but can keep us from taking our part in His plan for us.  We are directed to "Be still, and know that I am God" because it is only in our stillness that we can see that what is being accomplished in our lives is not of our own doing.  Though we play a part in His plan, we can not control it, or manipulate it, or delegate it to a list.

    God is honored when we allow Him to work His will in our lives.  When we allow Him to do the things for us that meet His agenda, not our own.  When we let Him use us in the way He wants to, rather than to just sit back and hope that He acts on our behalf.

    Yes.  The Isralites needed to still themselves from the probable chaos that was going on in their camp.  Yes, they needed to refocus and realize that they were God's people and that He was with them.  BUT.  They had to take action in His plan.  They had to get up and move!
.
    As the holidays draw nearer and your calendar gets squeezed, don't forget to be still.  Don't forget the purpose of this season or the miracle that God has laid before us through the story of Christ.  Take part in His story this Christmas.  Be a blessing to others.  Show the love of God to someone in need.  Not because it's on your list.  Not because you feel pressure.  But, because God has placed you somewhere in the wilderness of life, poised to take part in His plan like no one else can.  Be still enough to realize it when your turn comes. Then... get moving!

        

Last night, as I watched the results pour in from the 2008 election, I was stunned.  Not that McCain was obviously losing, but that so many people were chosing a candidate who went against so many of my personal beliefs.  Was I alone?  I sat in silence (which doesn't happen often at our house) and wondered how our country had wandered so far away from the belief system on which it was built.  Beliefs that are at their core, good things.  Moral things.  Things built upon the laws of God.

I went to bed despondent and wondering if God was turning His back on us after all the many times we have gone against Him in this country.  If he was "turning His face against us" as the Psalmist says?

I tossed and turned all night.  I awoke more than once by the cheers and screams of victory of Obama supporters as my husband continued to watch in the other room.  I felt hopeless. I felt isolated.  And I felt very far from God.

This morning I prayed as I got ready, drove my children to school, and then home to work.  I listened to the radio hoping to be inspired.  I looked through the clouds overhead hoping for a glimmer of something.  Hoping for some sign of well, hope.

When I got to my desk I reluctantly checked my email knowing that there would be many comments on the various loops I subscribe to that I wouldn't want to read.  But of course, I was compelled to. 

There were many elated comments.  There were equally as many deflated.  There were comments about racism.  There were comments about gender bias.  Many angered me.  Several made me profoundly sad.  None made me feel any better.  But, I began to realize that if nothing else, this election motivated.  Motivated many of us who have sat back for too long watching from the sideline.

Slowly... a glimmer flitted across my mind.  One word kept coming to the forefront: trust. Trust.

A new energy began to build in me as I tried to look at it from someone who is called to trust God with everything.  And I thought: maybe this is as it should be.  Maybe the very best thing that could happen to a follower at this point in our history is to be shaken to the core.  To be slapped with the reality of what is truly at stake before us.  And to see that we can't continue to glide by hoping that "someone else" will stand up for our beliefs.  For God's commands.

In the next four years, beliefs that Christians hold deepest in their hearts will be challenged under this president.  The right to life.  The protection of marriage.  Freedom of speech.  Freedom of beliefs.  And we are ALL on call.  Not just the leaders of our communities or nation.  It is under our watch this time.  And we must stand and act.

It reminded me of David as he positioned himself to stand up against Goliath.

"I can't go in these," David protested.  "I'm not use to them" he said as he turned away the offer of solidiers armor that he was not accustomed to. 

Like David, we may not be accustomed to the methods of battle that will be used against us.  But it shouldn't keep us from getting in the fight.  We must face our giants as he did.  Not by meandering around in the hopes that someone else might get to them first.  But by rushing to them!  Just as when Goliath moved into attack, David quickly ran out to greet him!  Quickly! Wholeheartedly.  Shouting with confidence that he came "in the name of the Lord- the God whom you have defied".

He didn't let the taunts of Goliath stop him.  He didn't let the rumors of failure stop him.  He didn't even allow his own family to stop him as his brother tried to send him home.

No!  He rushed to greet him!  Even as Goliath taunted "Why are you coming to fight?  I am the Philistine champion, but you are only the servants of Saul."

We are only the servants of God.  We are ONLY the servants of God.  We are only the servants of GOD.

SERVE him with honor.  SERVE him with joy.  Rush to greet what is coming before us. 

In David's day as it is in ours:  "This is the Lord's battle, and He will give you to us!"

God will prevail.  We must stand with confidence as His own knowing that if we show up to the battle in His name, He will be there to fight with us. 

We will have to do that.  We will have to take a stand.  We will be forced to face the giant moral questions being posed by our nation.  Rush to greet what is coming before us.  Be ready.  And trust.  Trust.