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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Scribble and Scrambles - How Does God Do That?


God multiplied time for me.

As odd as that sounds, it is true. I invested hours of prep time into the speaking gig over the weekend. What's the rule? For every half an hour of talk time you should invest three hours of prep? Something crazy like that.

For weeks I've been sweating what I'd say. I had the verse right away -- Galatians 6:9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not faint. The reason I was sweating? Because I've been struggling with fainting myself. I've been a little spiritually light-headed of late.

Beyond the pivotal verse, "it" wasn't there, I couldn't get my hands around it, nor my mind, nor my heart for that matter. Eww. So aided with the adrenaline burst that comes with procrastination -- something I avoid at all costs -- the procrastination, not the adrenaline -- and a pathetic prayer, I forced myself to sit down and begin to gather my swirling thoughts.

And things just began to flow. As I typed, I grew more convinced that the jumble of words and ideas began to make sense.

Then came Friday with the sunshine and life-charged breeze. I ended with hours on my hands to relax and soak up peace before driving to deliver my words, His words, to a group of women who needed them as much as I did.

I began my Saturday morning with peace, and again Sunday, a jam-packed day with a family wedding shower that required games, devotional and food from me.

This should have been a stress-pumped weekend, but it was not. Instead it was a fresh breath from the God Who does not grow weary or sleep, the God Who is mindful of sparrows and aware of the number of hairs on my head.

Wow. Thanks, God. You are so faithful to this foolish, stubborn sheep. And thanks to those of you who prayed.