"God, can I help?"

       

     Who could resist those big blue eyes and that caramel colored hair streaming over her shoulders?  Not me. When I hear that sweet little voice, “Aunt Becca, can I help?” I’m a dead ringer no matter how rushed I may feel. On the outside my mouth turns up to a smile and I hear my voice say, “Sure! Grab that step stool.”  On the inside my mind is kicking up into plan B.  I’m wondering what task I can give her that she can do.  Yes, it will take longer now; the mess messier and the final outcome not exactly like it would be if I were doing it myself.
     So what are my options?  I could tell her no; that we don’t have time for me to teach her how to crack the egg or sift the flour.  I’m a clean as I go kind of baker.  But I can’t keep the place clean with an apprentice at my side.  So do I tell her in the rush of the moment I don’t want to deal with the extra mess of the inexperienced?  I suppose a cruel hearted aunt could say that…
     Of course it would be easier just to do it myself.  But I wouldn’t dare turn down an opportunity to spend one on one time with my niece. Time to teach her how to stir the batter till all the lumps are gone, to chat about her favorite things, her dreams, to enjoy creating something together… at her request.  Yes, when she cracks the eggs I may have to dig out a few shells when she’s not looking or go back over the cake with another glob of icing, but the pleasure of the relationship eliminates any slight inconvenience.
     I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much I mess up in God’s work.  I want to help and be a part of building His Kingdom.  It blows me away to think that the God of this universe would entrust His work to us.  I so often misrepresent Him.  I’m so terribly inadequate in the tasks I’m privileged to do.  Yet, God says, “Sure! Grab that step stool.”  I think I’m the one cracking the eggs, but no doubt He’s going behind me scraping out all the eggshells. Kind of eliminates any thought of pride when life is veiwed that way, eh? How much messier it must be with my hands involved than if He just did it all Himself! Which I might add, He is plenty capable of doing. Understatement of the century…
     But He doesn’t work that way.  He allows me to participate in His work.  Why?  I’m not sure, but perhaps because He loves to be in relationship. He cares more about my growth and development than He does a perfect scenario.  What an amazing God! And I am forever grateful.  His gracious merciful love touches me everyday. I’m grateful for his patience and willingness to allow me to participate in the His Kingdom work.  I’m grateful that no matter how much I mess up or fail, He continues to include me. May I always be conscious of the privilege and honor to work along side Him.           “Being confident of this very thing that He who began a good work 
                         in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

How to drive in the storm...of life

How to drive in the storm…of life

     Tense. Unsure. Praying. Wanting to be just about anywhere but here… 

     Rain pounded my car. Sheets of water sloshed down the windshield faster than the wipers could wipe. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I had accidently driven into a car wash!  But I did know better.  I cruised along the interstate gripping the wheel.  Knuckles white. Radio off.  Shoulders scrunched.  Heart stiff.  Eyes peeled ahead with an occasional glance in the rear view mirror to watch for cars coming up behind me.  If I managed to stay in my lane I deemed it a pure miracle.  I could see nothing but liquid rolling down my window and a sporadic little white line on the road ahead of me. I wasn’t sure how fast or slow I dare go. If I crept along like a turtle another more daring car may hit me from behind.  If I accelerated too much I could loose control or hit one of the cars creeping along at turtle speed. From my vantage point inside my waterfall cocoon, I had no real indication if my car had veered off course.  I only knew that so far I hadn’t hit anything and nothing had hit me.  My wheels appeared to be driving on the same road I started on before the monsoon hit.

     Everything in me wanted to slam on the brakes and stop right in the middle of the highway. Or maybe I could just pull over to the side, but I’ve always heard that’s one of the worst decisions a driver makes in a storm. So I kept on driving.  Tense. Unsure. Praying. Wanting to be just about anywhere but here…

     Funny…it didn’t rain a drop yesterday and yet I felt exactly the same way.  Tense. Unsure. Praying. Wanting to be just about anywhere but here… Facing many unknowns.  Knuckles white. Shoulders scrunched. Eyes peeled straight ahead.  Heart stiff. Had no real control over anything around me. Couldn’t see how it would turn out or how long it would last.

     Dealing with people is a little like the weather.  They’re both unpredictable and both are going to do what they’re going to do.  And there ain’t much you can do about it but go with the flow.  Adjusting to the weather may include bringing an umbrella or wearing a scarf. Adjusting to people on the other hand can be a mite trickier.  People tend to have feelings and emotions.  They get mad or sad or glad or hurt or misunderstood or jealous or co-dependent or… you get the point.   I happen to be a people too…so I know.  People also get sweet and thoughtful and gracious and self-sacrificing and… an awful lot like Jesus. Bless them. 

     This season in my life I fight the urge to stop or at least pull over to the side of the road and sit this blurry time out.  I’d like to wait until the way is clear.  Then I could see where I’m headed and what it’s going to look like when I get there. I’m sure you know what I mean.  But then again, where would we all be if every time the way muddled we pulled out of the journey?  I guess I can’t speak for you, but I’d be sitting on the side of the road most of my life.  I’d be watching as the rest of the gang move forward to their destination.  I don’t really want to do that…

     Here’s the good news.  When the road ahead is shrouded with the unknown, as believers in Jesus we know He’s already gone ahead.  And He who sits high above the heavens can see past our moment.  Like a spotter on the top of a building, He sees much more than I can straight on.  He knows exactly where my road is taking me.  In fact, He’s the One who planned the route!

     He knew I’d feel like this. That’s why He gave Solomon these words in Ecclesiastes 11:4,6

“He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap.  In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good.”

     Yeah! I can’t let a little rain and wind (ok a lot of rain and wind) stop me from moving forward.  The sun will shine one day! The way will be clear again.  But for today I will trust the One who made the sun and the One who knows my way.  I will not hold back.  I will learn from my mistakes.  I will keep pressing the accelerator.  I will travel on…

Hope & Glory! To You ~

Rebecca

Just be thankful you're not in a prison camp...

-->

Hi All ~ Long time no blogging I know!  My life has been consumed with elections and Christmas program preparation.  But now the election is over I'm hoping to get back into some semblance of a routine!  Hope you enjoy this Thanksgiving thought below!

Just months before my 16^th birthday my family moved from Minnesota to Florida.  If you’re imagining us packing up all of our belongings, having a few good-bye parties, loading up a moving truck and heading South to the white sandy beaches of the Atlantic, that’s not exactly how it went.

 My mom and dad decided that we would load up one of our cars with only the bare necessities.  My three older siblings were grown and already out on their own which meant my mom would take my youngest brother Rodney and me on down ahead of my dad so we could start school.  The three of us would move in with my Aunt and Uncle in their 3-bedroom 2-bath home along with four of their five children; making a total of nine humans and one large Doberman all living in 1250 sq. feet.  My dad would stay behind till he could sell the house and the business; then join us as soon as possible.  I know.  What were they thinking, right?

Actually, the experience of bunking up with the cousins is a memory of a lifetime.  I enjoyed the closeness…most of the time.  The morning routine proved the roughest interval to maintain an acceptable level of sanity.  With only two bathrooms and seven people all needing to be ready at the same time you can imagine the bedlam. 

One of those mornings the chaos grew especially hectic.  My aunt, trying to herd the six of us into her five-passenger car with all of our backpacks and gym bags, squeaked out in a panic, “Hurry up we’re going to be late…again!”

Invariably someone would holler, “I can’t find my shoes!  Has anyone seen my other shoe?  Stephen, did you take it?  Where is it?  Someone help me find it!” 

My cousin Stephen fired back, “Why would I take your shoe, you dork?”

Then another would shout, “Hurry up, I can’t have another tardy or I’ll get detention!  Why don’t you find your stuff the night before like the rest of us!  Ahh yuck! Who spilled the milk and didn’t clean it up?  I just stepped in it! Now I need a new pair of socks.  Mom, where are the clean socks?” 

She’d reply, “You don’t have time.  You’ll just have to wear those today. I said get in the car!” 

Grumble, grumble, grumble….

Then another, “Mom, where is that paper I asked you to sign?  I gotta have it today.” Each voice managed to crank up the volume level overriding the last speaker, ensuring they were heard in this simultaneous and confusing conversation.

I happened to be the only girl in the bunch and unfortunately I have an overactive sense of responsibility.  So naturally, any disaster the boys may be having, I felt it my duty to rescue as much as feasible. I’d wipe up the milk, hunt for the shoe, unless I also needed to secretly hunt for my own.  Barely 7:30 in the morning and all of us were already exhausted. 

The insecurities of being a sophomore in a new high school and trying to make my way only added to the weariness.  Everything required an effort.  Where do I sit for lunch?  Does that cute guy really keep watching me or is he staring at my flatter- than- a- pancake, humidity-suffering hairdo wondering, “Why doesn’t that girl do something with that straw looking stuff on top of her head”?  There is a reason there is only one letter difference between humidity and humility.  What hall do I take to get to my 3^rd  period class?  I am going to try to call everyone I know by name today… if I can remember them…  I didn’t regret this new adventure.  I knew God had planned it.  Sometimes it just overwhelmed me.  Today happened to fall into the “What in the Sam Hill were my parent’s thinking?” category.

By the time the sardine can of an automobile had been packed with book bags, football pads for after school practice, a trumpet for marching band, my cheerleading bag and oh, yeah, five students and one school secretary, the sour mood sloshing around in the car would have intoxicated even the strongest Positive Pearls in the world.

I confess.  My attitude stunk.  I was tired of it; everyone out for themselves.  Not enough room in the car.  Not enough time in the bathroom.  Barely enough food in the cupboard and no one ever seemed to help with the dishes.  And now I’m going to have to walk in late to my new school… yet again!  Everyone will be staring at me.  My hair and this Florida humidity make me want to slink by the edges of the hallway, not parade across the room to the empty seat up front next to that guy.  Or should I pick the other seat next to the other guy?  Ugh.

About the time I’d decided to pull out the knife and slit my wrist in peace, my Aunt slammed on the brakes- as to not run the stop sign and eject us into the oncoming traffic whizzing past us.  As all six of us whiplashed back to our seats from the sudden thrust she threw these words over her shoulder, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp!”

You might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.  Her statement stunned me. And then it just plain irritated me.  How dare she say this wasn’t a stressful and ridiculous way to live? 

I repeated the phrase in my mind, mainly out of disgust and shock at her audacity.  (Which for my aunt appeared quite audacious since she had the patience of Job and rarely stood up for herself or told anyone off.) But as I repeated the quote, somewhere mid-sentence I visualized the reality of her words, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp.”  I had read The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boon.  I vividly recalled the horror of those camps. Before I knew it, the statement settled into my heart and suddenly I saw with new eyes.

Yes!  Thank God I didn’t have to be in a prison camp today!  These obtrusive gym bags piled on top of me, wrinkling my clothes, are a sign that I get to be part of a fun school with lots of extras.  Running late meant we wouldn’t be required to wait outside for the doors to open, allowing the humidity more time to work it’s magic. Tonight I’m going home to a safe place with choices of where to go and what to eat. I’m surrounded by people who, although they stress me out once in a while, also make me laugh until I wet my pants; people who love me and want what is best for me.  I’m not afraid of them. In fact, they are some of my favorite people in the whole wide world!  Yes, thank you God, I’m not in a prison camp.

Lessons from the dog dish

Thirsty?  Lessons from the dog dish.

     I adore him…most days.  While there did exist a day I would have sold him for free, not any more.  He has wagged his way right into my heart and become the fourth member of our family. His name is Herschel Walker. He stands about 3 feet tall, weighs 104 pounds and is covered in chocolate brown hair. Best of all, I think he really loves me. And I must say the feeling is mutual.

     My dog is a living object lesson of God’s love for me. Herschel is just a dog…I didn’t create him or give birth to him, yet I would do most anything to protect him and make him happy.  We’ve never actually spoken to each other (Aren’t you glad to hear me say that… You were beginning to wonder weren’t you!) yet we communicate constantly.  I’m so familiar with his idiosyncrasies that most of the time I know exactly what he wants or needs.  He has a gentle way of hinting.  For example, if he’s thirsty he very sweetly (Ever watched a dog walk sweetly? Quite the site!) walks over to his dish and sticks his nose in it. He’ll usually throw in a wag or two and glance up at me kind of bashful like, as if to say, “Boy, I sure wish there was some water in my dish.”   

     It doesn’t matter how busy I am, I can’t resist his gentle nudge at the bowl.  He realizes I’m the source who can fill the request and he’s asking for help. Here’s the crazy part. I absolutely delight in supplying his need! I love pouring that cool water in his bowl and seeing his tail wag as he laps the stream before it even hits the bottom of the dish. At that point, if a dog can wear contentment he’s clothed from head to paw.  You can almost see how grateful he is and it pleases me to no end. 

     It never fails.  Each time it happens I’m reminded of a truth that warms my heart no matter how chilly it is outside.  If I delight that much in providing my dog’s need, how much more does my Heavenly Father, who created me and sent His son to be my ransom, love when I call out to Him for my supply!

     Many days I’m tempted to believe that the Father has lost track of me in this great, big, wide world.  Some days I get the sense that my requests are old hat and boring to Him or perhaps he gets weary of my constant dependency. None of which are true!  My affection for my dog reminds me that my Father loves me.  My Father is committed to providing and protecting me.  And best of all… He delights to do so!   And so He does for you my friend. 

     Are you thirsty?  Go ahead. Nudge that water dish and see if your Heavenly Father won’t fill it for you :) …And don’t forget to wag your tail when that stream comes flowing down!

Psalm 18:19 “…he delivered me because he delighted in me”

Hope & Glory! to you my friend ~

Rebecca

Homeless or Angel

Hi Everyone ~ 

  Have you ever entertained an angel unaware?   I know what you're probably thinking, "Well, Rebecca, that's a silly question.  How would I know? Doesn't the Bible say we minister to them "unaware"?  Hebrews 13 starts out, " Let brotherly love continue.  Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." O.K. yeah, good point...  How 'bout this: Do you ever THINK you've entertained an angel? 

     I think Ronnie and I tried to minister to one recently!  This may not seem like a big deal to you, but I am almost convinced God sent an angel across our path, perhaps even my guardian angel. By the time you hear the end of the story you'll see how God used our effort to supply my need :) Angel or not... God is really, really cool!

     So...on with the story. Late one afternoon Ronnie and I headed to a friend’s wedding in Orlando.  We were both starving.  I hadn't eaten much all day.  For one, I had been too busy, but mainly I hadn't eaten much because we were supposed to meet a good friend in Orlando that night at the Dessert Lady!  (O.K....ever heard of that place?  Me neither, but supposedly her desserts are to die for! )  We pulled off onto an exit headed for a Chic-fil-A to get dinner before we met our friend.  As we exited down the off ramp, a light rain began to fall and I noticed a man standing at the bottom of the hill at the red light. He instantly caught my attention and I said, "Ah... if I had an umbrella in here, I'd throw it out there to him."  

     It so happened that our place at the red light landed the man right outside Ronnie's window, close enough for him to make eye contact with us.  Sure enough, he stood holding a cardboard sign with black marker writing.  Actually, I don't even know what the sign read.  I just noticed the word, "homeless".  As we waited for the light to change the man made awkward continual eye contact with us, throwing these passive-aggressive, pleading looks our way. 

     The man became the topic of discussion during the ever-enduring red light.  Ronnie noticed right away that his clean-shaven, manicured go-tee and rather clean - albeit- wet clothes showed that the man didn't appear to be too homeless.  We wondered if he was indeed homeless and questioned if he would take anything other than money if we offered it to him.  All the while, the middle-aged, greying man cast occasional, yet purposed eye contact, starring straight at us and ignoring the other cars in line.  Relief swept over me as the light finally turned green. Just as we pulled off, I caught one last disgusted glare from the man that seemed to say said, "You people with your cars and homes are all alike..." 

   I can't speak for Ronnie, but I have never given anything to people holding signs on the side of the road, especially ones who give disgusted looks to those they are asking to help them. It's not because I don't want to help.  I do, if they really need it.  I've actual experienced a sort of homeless before and I understand desperate.  My heart goes out to people in need. It's just that I don't know if I should believe them or not.  And I've always heard you shouldn't give them money.  Because of all that, the thought to help this guy never seriously entered my mind.  But as we pulled away Ronnie said, "We could buy him a sandwich if you want."  Immediately, my heart quickened.  I'd love to do that and felt very impressed that God would have us do it. I piped up, "Yes, lets do it."

     We bought the sandwich and backtracked to the exit. Ronnie pulled off to the side of the road to deliver our hot meal to the clean-shaven man standing in the rain.  But the man was gone.  I mean gone... like he had vanished.  It hadn't taken us long to get the food.  We couldn't imagine where he could have slipped away so quickly.  We rode over to the gas station and Ronnie jumped out to see if he had dashed in there for cover from the rain.  He was no where to be found...

     I remember thinking, as we finally gave up the search for the man, the impression to buy this sandwich was so strong and the whole experience so odd, I knew God meant it for someone. Obviously the roadside stranger wouldn't be the recipient, but in my heart I figured God had something up His sleeve.  My curiosity grew in anticipation as to what God had planned.

    We finally made it to our hotel and longer story short...our plans fell through to meet our friend. The only problem being that I still hadn't eaten enough at supper.  I had rationed out my food intake, saving for the Dessert Lady and now we weren't going... 

    My sinking energy level from the stress of the week and bad meals had begun taking its toll. Like the straw that broke the camel's back, I was wiped out and didn't know how to snap out of it. This may seem really silly to you, but at the end of the day, I was the one who ate the sandwich...the glorious, 2 hour old, cold, Chick-fil-A sandwich!  I gobbled it up like a homeless person who hadn't eaten for days. Here's the kicker... I don't even like Chick-Fil-A, but at that moment it tasted like The Loop to me!  The sandwich hit the spot like a weird magic potion that brought life back into my soul.  

    I can't prove it, but I believe the stranger on the side of the road may have been an angel sent by God to help his weary daughter.  No, I hadn't experienced a life or death situation, but I needed the encouragement of knowing I have a God who sees right where I am.  The fact that He loves and cares enough to make provision for my future needs warmed my heart and ensured me I'm safe in His care :)  

     He feels the same about you!  He cares enough to assign an angel specifically to you.  And even better than that, He sent His Holy Spirit to be your constant Companion and Guide.  May you know His comfort today.  May your heart be set at rest knowing He is with you.  He sees you.  He is, as we speak, providing for what you will need in the moments and days ahead :) 

Hope & Glory! To You ~ Love

Rebecca 

Fight Like a Girl

Hi All ~ Ever feel like giving up?  Read on...please!

     The dry crusty earth beneath my cleated shoes begs for relief.  And the earth is not the only one longing for a respite. All of those around me are affected by intensity of the day. The scorching sun rests itself directly above us for what feels like hours raining down heat rays intense enough to boil water. My metal shield soaks up the sun like a horse shoe in the furnace. But I don’t dare let go.  That trusty shield is my only recourse against the Enemy’s fiery darts whizzing past me in every direction.

     I hate to say it but some of the darts originate from behind and to the sides of me where fellow comrades stand.  It sounds odd. In such an intense and fierce battle you expect to ward off darts from the Enemy in front of you, not from behind... from your own. But it happens. Those blows prove the most fatal, causing the victim to drop her shield and gasp in disbelief at the wound.  She drops to her knees in agony not only from the arrow’s penetration, but also from the piercing sting to her heart. Looking around in confusion and disbelief, her head drops as she realizes that this gash came from within the camp. 

      Regardless of where or how a soldier is hit by the fiery dart, the first tendency is naturally to drop the shield. Then you are open game. Vulnerable. Susceptible to the whim and whimsy of the evil schemes. Exactly what the Enemy is banking on. Unfortunately, the Adversary (big shock)…doesn’t play fair. The minute a shield lowers, the arrows seem to come like a magnet toward the wounded.

      I know. It’s happened to me.  If it hadn’t been for members of my squadron coming to my aid, who knows what would have happened to me!  I guess that explains my passion, not only to fight the fight, but to look out for the fellow soldiers around me.

     The battle’s intensity has escalated in recent days. Lately, I look around at those I love; those faithful to the cause; those determined to endure to the end. Many are being hit.  Hit from all directions. All I know to do is hold tight to my shield as I run to their aid. I slam the shields upright in the dirt to form a tiny garrison as I assess the damage.  I wipe the tear and offer a drink from my canteen. Then I do my best to stabilize the wound.  And the cool thing… All around me others loyal to the cause are shouting out warnings, “Soldier, duck!  Incoming!” Once they’ve spotted us they rush to our side and stand guard to protect us.  As more help comes, I grab my shield and run across the field to offer the same comfort to another, ever mindful of those who did the same for me.

     Sometimes I find a big rock to lean against and take a minute to hide behind my own shield, darts dashing in every direction. The tears bubble up from the pit at the pain of my friends. I am weary and overwhelmed…My water bottle is empty.  I’ve given all its contents away to those who needed it more. And then I ask myself, "Is this worth it?"  But the question doesn’t linger long.  My teeth grit, my lips press together, my fist bangs into the ground below me.  Through the mist I breathe these words of resolve to my Commander in Heaven, “By your grace I will not give up! I will not quit! The cargo is too precious, the price too costly.  I will pick up my sword of your word and my shield of faith. I will fight on!”

     About that time, my good buddy catches me huddled to the side.  She rushes to my aid, pulls her shield close to mine as she rests herself against the rock. Catching her breath she says, “Are you alright?  Here, I thought you might need a little of this.”  From her side she pulls out her own precious canteen and to my lips flow the ice cold drink my dry soul so desperately needs.

     And so it is in the battlefield of life…but I grit my teeth and press my lips together in steadfast determination.  I will look up.  I will not quit.  I will accept your help.  I will offer mine to you. Together we will fight the good fight!  We will endure hardness as the good soldiers of Jesus Christ! II Timothy 2:1-4

Hope & Glory! to You ~ Love 

Rebecca

P.S.  You know we win, right?!      

Got Questions?

Hello All ~

     I have more questions today than I have answers.  I’m positive you know what I’m talking about.  There are those days or weeks or even years when we just don’t know…  It’s important to decipher which questions are of God and which are of the Enemy.  They both ask them.  Just take a look at the very first story in scripture in Genesis 3 and you can see that.  But today is not about the questions…

     While I don’t have all the answers I’m thankful for the parts I do know.  For the last 3 months God has delivered the same message to me in various ways.  He keeps telling me, “Be strong.  Be very courageous.  Do it.  Be strong.”  I wish I had the space to share with you all the passages He has lead me to in the last several weeks that communicate these words.  I didn’t go looking for them!  They have come in my regular Bible reading or messages I’ve heard preached on the radio or at church.  It’s been wild.  Who knew those words appeared so many different places in scripture!

     I’m grateful for each encouragement, but I realize this verbiage is more than some happy little cheerleader type of positiveness. (I know that’s not really a word) These words are a command.  So I’ve dug my heels in and I’m trying… but I haven’t done so well.  In fact, I’ve been more stressed out and crazed than ever…hence some of the question… but once again today is not about the questions.  “So what is it about?” you ask. (See more questions!)  Follow me here…

     Recently, during a much-needed Sabbath rest, God showed me something amazing.  I’ve always loved and often quoted the verse, “For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth to show Himself strong on behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward Him…” from II Chronicles 16.  But until this week I never knew the verse’s context OR that the verse doesn’t end there. 

     This verse landed in the middle of a conversation a prophet had with a king who had loved God with all his heart and called upon him for help when he found his nation in trouble… until now.  King Asa enjoyed years of peace and quiet until the end of his reign when an enemy decided to attack.  So what did Asa do? (Stop with the questions)  He called on the King of Syria to help… Seemed logical enough, but logical and God don’t always jive. The prophet reminded Asa of the times when huge nations were headed for Judah’s jugular and God miraculously saved the day.  And how God’s eyes roam to and fro to show Himself strong…  In other words, He loves to step in and rescue when we cast ourselves on Him!

     The verse ends with, “but you have done foolishly…” Interpreted…You didn’t allow God to be strong on your behalf.  You tried to figure out how to be strong on your own…Click!  Light bulb! That is sounding a little familiar.

     Oh!  After all these years of watching God step in for me, of witnessing miraculous provision, of enjoying the freedom and relief of complete abandonment on Him, how could I have forgotten to ask Him for help? (May be the best question I’ve asked all day) And yet I had.  I realized during that Sabbath rest, that God, while commanding me to be strong, never intended for me to be strong on my own.  He desired to be my strength.  He delights in showing HIMSELF strong on my behalf if my heart will only be perfect toward Him.  So instead of trying to figure it out on my own I plan on seeking Him to be my strength from now on.

     …Well, I don’t have all the answers, but I think I have the answer I need most today. I believe I'll take God up on His offer :)

Hope & Glory to You my friend ~

Rebecca