For the past several Januarys I have been doing something I have a really hard time doing…a three week Daniel fast. This fast is basically choosing to eat only fruit, veggies and all-natural foods for 3 weeks. It is a food-restriction fast versus a 100% food withholding fast.
The first time I attempted this fast was the worst. I am a diehard coffee-lover for one thing and the withdrawal headaches seemed unbearable. On day two of the fast, Jeff fixed us a lovely stir-fry, but something rose up inside of me, and I just COULDN’T eat them . Yep, it’s true, I spent the dinner literally crying into my vegetables. It was that night that I realized I had a big problem…as embarrassing as it is to admit, I had (have?) a food problem. I enjoy eating whatever I want, whenever I want, without even thinking about the consequences to my body. I am guilty of only caring about the outward appearance of things. As long as the time I spend at the gym ensures I can still fit into my size 8’s, or even better-my 6’s, I figured I was ok.
News flash: when the thought of eating a plate of vegetables brings you to tears, you are not ok.
The Daniel fast re-alligns me, both physically and spiritually. I find myself telling the Lord, “I want you more than I want _____________ (fill in the blank with any number of food items).” “I want to be hungry for you, above everything else.” “You are in control of my life, my body, my all.”
If I really believe Matthew 5:6 – “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” , I have to wonder what exactly I am hungering for and then in correlation, what am I being filled up with? Am I filling up physically and spiritually on empty calories versus life-sustaining food?
Jeff preached a sermon recently in which he talked about having “leanness of soul”. This is a concept we read about in Psalms 106:13-16 KJV speaking about the Israelites in the wilderness, even after all they had already experienced of the Lord’s miracles and provision…”They soon forgat his works; they waited not for his counsel: But lusted exceedingly in the wilderness, and tempted God in the desert. And he gave them their request; but sent leanness into their soul.”
Ouch. For those of us that want God to truly be in control of us, these verses should feel like a slap in the face. Oh, how I don’t want a lean soul! I don’t want to persist over and over again in demanding my own way, only to end up actually getting it. I’m like any woman out there we wants to be thin on the outside, but Oh Lord, I want a fat soul! Help me to be more and more hungry for you.
_________
A few yummy recipes for those who are also on the Daniel Fast…
1. Roasted Fall vegetables…
Cut some potatoes, sweet potatoes, butternut squash, carrots and red onions up into bite size chunks. Toss in olive oil with some fresh garlic and salt and pepper and whatever other seasoning you might like.
Cook at 450 degrees for 45 minutes, stirring halfway through.
2. Peanut Sauce stirfry
Use whatever vegetable you like to stirfry (peppers, zucchini, carrots, mushrooms, califlower, beans…) and cook them up.
Make some brown rice to go with it.
The sauce that you mix the veggies in at the end of their cook time is:
1/3 cup Natural Peanut butter
1/3 cup water
1 tsp garlic powder
2 tbsp Bragg’s soy sauce (all-natural)
2 tbsp lemon juice
Cayenne to taste (optional)
Stir all and then microwave for 30 seconds to heat. Pour on veggies and enjoy!
(we usually double the sauce recipe because we cook a lot of veggies at once.)
3. Carrot Soup
2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion (about 2 cups), chopped
3 stalks celery (about 1 cup), chopped
4 cups sliced carrots
32 oz. vegetable broth (I use 2 organic vegetable buillion cubes with water)
1 teaspoon whatever seasoning you want
1 teaspoon dried basil
2 teaspoons chopped garlic
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon salt
In a large pot put the olive oil and saute the onion, celery, and carrots, garlic and all the seasonings for about 10 minutes. Then add the vegetable broth. Cover and simmer for 25 mins or until the carrots are tender. Let soup cool a little and then blend in a blender in batches.
This is actually quite delicious and I suggest doubling the recipe as well.
A few good websites to check out for recipes…
http://networkedblogs.com/p23269021 - so many great ones and encouragements for the fast as well.
http://deliciouswisdom.com/2008/09/15/pecan-date-granola.aspx – this recipe is awesome and the site has tons more.
www.danielfast.wordpress.com/
Filed under: Life
This past week I dug out all the Christmas decorations for my house. I am not exaggerating when I say that this means 8 Rubbermaid containers came upstairs for me to rifle through. I then also decorated our church, which includes 3 fully-dressed-up trees. Then I was tasked with decorating the MASSIVE tree that Jeff brought home for our house. Then we received a “blessing” check for the church to buy more Christmas decorations, which resulted in more Christmas decorating at the church, including more ornaments for the aforementioned 3 trees.
By my count, I have now adorned trees a total of 7xs.
THEN…
When I returned from vacation this past weekend I heard some very sad news…
A friend’s 11 year old daughter, Sydney Ives passed away after a 18 month fight with an inoperable brain tumor. http://www.rrstar.com/news/x1972894633/Girl-loses-fight-against-cancer
My fourth grade teacher, Rhonda Kluck, who was later my high school Algebra teacher passed away Sunday after fighting cancer for 7 years. She was only 44. http://www.legacy.com/rrstar/Obituaries.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=136064669
I got a Caring Bridge journal update yesterday containing the news that a friend of mine from Florida is likely facing cancer again. She is only 35. http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/victoriahage
Add all of this to what a neighboring pastor is going through with his nine year old daughter, http://matttapley.wordpress.com/ , and I’ve about had it with the enemy reeking havoc in the lives of people I care about.
Jeff started a new series at church this past Sunday called “The End.” , talking about the end of the world and the hope that we have as Christians. He used this passage and I find that I am having to encourage myself with it quite often this past week…
1 Thessalonians 4:12-18 (New Living Translation) ” And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died. We tell you this directly from the Lord: We who are still living when the Lord returns will not meet him ahead of those who have died. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever. So encourage each other with these words.”
Some days I just want to scream. This world seems so cruel, so unfair.
I yearn for eternity, for no more pain and suffering. I yearn for Jesus.
And the amazing news is that He is with us, right here, right now, whatever we are going through…God says in Isaiah 43:2: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze”.
Filed under: Life | Tags: candy, cruise, God, Rockets, seashells, Smarties
I am sitting here at my kitchen table with the entire bag of my kids Halloween candy and I am trying to remember if my mother ate most of my candy when I was little too. Oh, just found a Snickers….
Can I just say that when I go for long stretches without blogging, I feel so overwhelmed. It now feels like I cannot simply pick one thing to talk about, I must fill you in on everything that has gone on in my life and in my head for the past 3-4 weeks. But that is just ridiculous.
Why are those little sugar discs called Smarties in the States, but they are called Rockets here in Canada? This is a thought I have every time I eat them, as if it is part of the actual experience now. I realize that in Canada Smarties are the little chocolate discs that taste like big stale M & M’s, and that is probably the reason the sugar discs could not be called by the same name. But it does make me wonder if there are two separate factories making these sugar discs or one factory for both. And if there is just one factory, I have to wonder if workers occasionally at least want to send ”Smarties” instead of “Rockets” to the Canadian public just to really mess everything up.
Jeff and I just returned from a seven night Caribbean cruise. It was beyond fabulous - Relaxing, Refreshing, Indulgent, Wonderful. It was so nice to be able to go away just the two of us and spend so much distraction-free time together. No cell phones, no kids, no computers, no responsibilities, just us. Oh, well, us and the people waiting on us hand and foot! 
Now that we are back, I keep hoping to see one of those room stewards sneaking into my house to make up my bed and leave me little chocolates and towel-animals, but it just hasn’t happened.
(small break while Mykah and I go to the bus stop to pick up Carter and then decide we will go to the park on what may be the last sunny, although cold, day we may have until May. While at the park, it is discovered that my next door neighbor’s child/grandchild has crossed the street at the four way stop and is playing with the other kids on the equipment. He is maybe 2 years old and has no coat or socks on, but as this little adventure was his idea, I suppose this could be expected. I am happy to report that he was returned safe and sound to his panic-stricken care-giver.)
A few recent Carter-isms…Monday morning was a PA day, which means Carter didn’t have to go to school, and I was looking forward to the day with both kids since I had been away from them for eight days. Carter found his way into bed with me around 8:00am for some snuggle time which was so nice, until he kept trying to cover my mouth. I was informed I was being too loud, even though I was not talking just breathing. Then he said, “You need to be quiet because I am listening for God to speak to me.”
My neighbor and good friend, Jen Colwell told me that one day recently she was getting Carter from the bus for me and she overheard him telling the bus driver, “She’s not my real mom.” …Then another day she was telling Carter that she and her family were going on a vacation to Florida, where he used to live. Carter told her, “Do you know why we moved from Florida to Canada? Because I only had adult friends in Florida.” HAHAHA!!!!
Mykah…She is really “coming into her own” these days. She is constantly surprising me now with the sentences she comes up with and the sense of humor that she has. If you ask her how old she is, she will ALWAYS say, “Sixteen”. Oh boy. And she has gotten so sweet too…She told me, “I missed you so much” when we got back and promptly had me near tears.
Hmmm….what else?….Oh, I brought back some rather small seashells that I had found on the beaches in Grand Cayman and Cozumel. I thought Mykah would enjoy playing with them. Um, the only problem is that 3 or 4 of the shells are alive. I put them in a bowl and they literally keep getting out. I suppose the slugs/snails/whatever they are will eventually starve for lack of food, and I could just throw them in the garbage because I am a little grossed out by them, but I now also have a strange fascination with them. Weird.
Ok, that’s enough randomness for one day. Tootle-oo.
Having two small children has taught me to function in a relatively normal way even while in the midst of much noise and activity. This is not to say that I don’t try to manage the noise level in my house …ie: “Carter bring your high-pitched-excited-voice down a few octaves!” and “Mykah, No screaming, that is unacceptable.” But I have learned to (most of the time) accept that the peace and quiet I was used to before I had kids, is only now seen in rare intervals, usually after my little munchkins are tucked into bed for the night.
I had a relapse last Wednesday. Jeff was at Prayer Meeting, and the kids and I had just finished dinner, which, in case you were wondering, was absolutely delicious banana-pecan pancakes. I told them to go play upstairs before it was time to get ready for bed. Miraculously, they went. And then another “miracle” occurred…a half hour went by in which I was able to check my email and clean up the kitchen with no interruptions. The only problem was that at around minute 33, I realized I had heard absolutely no noise coming from upstairs, hence my relapse into a sort of before-I-had-kids-thinking in which I only have to be concerned with myself. Oops.
If you have no children and are reading this, you may not understand the problem with 33 minutes to yourself in the evening.
But if you happen to be a parent and are reading this, you already know that 33 minutes to yourself in the evening usually follows by some sort of destruction of property involving nail polish or toothpaste or both, or a call to Poison Control or at the very least, every bit and every piece to every toy, game and puzzle will be on the floor of one of kid’s rooms.
Last Wednesday, I forgot.
At minute 33, this is what I heard from the top of the stairs. “I wrote on Mykah’s face because I love her.”
Oh boy.
When they both came down the stairs seconds later, I had one of those moments when as a parent, you are trying to instantly size up the situation and come up with an appropriate response.
I looked at Mykah, proudly pointing to her black marker-ed cheeks. I looked at Carter, who was much more timidly approaching me. I tried to summon from deep within a stern voice in which to reprimand them both.
And then I laughed. Oh, how I laughed.
And then I grabbed the camera.
The strangest thought I kept thinking about was how still Mykah had sat in order to have Carter’s “love” decorating her face. I wondered just what he had said to her, that she was willing to participate in this artistic venture. I wondered if he had described the masterpieces he was going to draw or if, all on her own, she decided to trust him with her face.
During worship on Sunday, I felt God whisper to me, “When is the last time you sat still enough to experience MY love?”
Here I am, Lord. Tattoo away.
Mykah has recently been trying every trick in the book to prolong her bedtime. Now, I’m pretty sure my parents would tell you that she inherited this from me as I can vaguely recall doing this myself when I was younger, but I don’t think I had this skill quite mastered at Mykah’s age of 2…
Her new thing is to insist that she be a part of the reading of the Bible, reading out of the missionary book and the prayer time in Carter’s room. And it’s a bit tricky to tell her she can’t when I’ve been working so hard to make sure Carter knows how important these activities are! She wants to pick the Bible story, mainly because she wants to get her brother riled up. She wants to pick the missionary we will read about and pray for, for the same reason. Then when it is her turn to pray, she almost always wants to pray for her daddy, which is truly sweet. A few times she has even tried praying by herself without having to repeat after me.
Allow me to set the scene for you…It’s a couple of nights ago and Carter and I are sitting on his bed, having just read the Bible and missionary profile of the night. Mykah has long since gotten down from the bed and is now loitering on the floor, walking around, playing, doing her thing, which probably includes some self-congratulations about how she has once again succeeded in being part of Carter’s bedtime routine.
“Carter who do you want to pray for tonight?”, I ask.
“I want to pray for Mykah’s finger,” he answers, while my heart swells with pride that he is remembering his sister’s ailment (See my last post for the full story on the mashed up fingernail).
“NO PRAY FOR MY FINGER!!!” Mykah responds, while I try to encourage her that Carter just wants her finger to feel better and isn’t it sweet that brother cares about her.
“Dear Jesus, I pray that Mykah’s finger…”, Carter begins and is interrupted with…
“NO PRAY FOR MY FINGER!!!”
He tries again. “Dear Jesus, I pray that Mykah’s finger…”,
“NO PRAY FOR MY FINGER!!!”
He finally gets the whole prayer out. “Dear Jesus, I pray that Mykah’s finger would get all better. Amen.”
Mykah responds adamantly again, ” NO PRAY FOR MY FINGER!!!”
To which Carter triumphantly proclaims, “MYKAH, IT”S TOO LATE!”
I know, I know, it’s been almost a month. I know I have some catching up to do.
In my defense I am still technically without internet access. Yak may “want to be your phone company”, but they seem to not care about the finer points of good customer service, like actually providing the services you sign up for. Our internet connection was cut off 10 days earlier than it was supposed to be cut off from our rental house, and we have now been in our new place since August 24, and still we wait…Fortunately our new neighbors are letting us use their connection until we get ours back. Unfortunately I don’t pick up their signal in the basement, which is where my desktop computer is set up. So, I still only have access when I have a laptop at my disposal. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I love our new house, and I am so thankful the move is now over. It felt like it consumed my summer. You would think that I would have moving down to a science after moving so much in the past 10 years, but alas, when you have as much stuff as we do, moving is just not going to be easy, even if it was just around the corner this time. My parents drove in last Saturday for a visit and so that my dad could help Jeff get started on finishing a rec room in the basement. It’s going to be WONDERFUL for the kids to have some room to play…Thanks Dad! (It’s just a shame that our TV armoire would not fit down the stairs…that one’s for you, Harman!)
Carter started Grade 1 last week. I cannot believe that my baby boy is now going to school full-time. It’s an adjustment for sure for him, as he is a bit cranky in the evenings, but I am sure we will settle into a routine soon enough. He really loves school which is so great. He loves learning and playing with the other kiddos. He even has a new best friend, Conner, as I have been told.
Last night I was showing Carter’s agenda book from school to my dad. It happened to open up to a page where the student can fill in a few personal facts. I was surprised to see that Carter had written something under the “Allergies” catergory, as he doesn’t have any…”Fire Lave”, it read. This morning I asked him about it.
”Yes, I am allergic to fire and lava,” he told me quite seriously.
“Oh,” I said, trying not to break out in hysterical laughter.
“Everyone’s allergic to fire and lava,” he said.
True. So true.
Mykah doesn’t seem to mind having Carter away as school for hours at a time. She actually seems to quite enjoy having the house and me all to herself, although if it were up to her, she would be on the bus too. I wonder if anyone would notice if I let her get on and go to school one day?
Poor little darling, she got her finger smashed in between a large picture and the toilet tank cover (I know, I know, this one is hard to imagine, but true nonetheless) almost 2 weeks ago. I am usually relatively calm in a crisis situation, but I was feeling a bit panic-y when I saw how bad her finger looked initially and all the blood, oh yuck. I thought I was maybe going to need to take her for stiches but couldn’t imagine getting her calm enough for the doctor to actually be able to get a stitch anywhere near her finger.
She babied her whole right hand for at least a week, and showed absolutely everyone her finger. Not that anyone actually got a look at the mangled finger and nail, mind you. All anyone could see was her grabbing her middle fnger and pointer finger together in order to isolate the ring finger with its My Little Pony bandaid and hear her pitiful little voice telling you, “I hurt my finger.” Thankfully, if you ask her about it now, she says happily, “my finger’s feeling better now!” I will be shocked if she doesn’t lose the nail, but at least she has successfully survived her first flesh wound.
People die all the time. It’s the circle of life, right? In theory, I accept this. I know that this is how the world works. Unless Jesus returns first, every single one of us will die, sometime. But I think we all just walk around pretending we have lots of time, time to live, time to squander, time to love, time to procrastinate…and on and on and on.
A great man died last Monday. His name was Roosevelt Hunter. He was a husband, a dad, a friend, a mentor, a preacher, and so many more “titles”. He was the guy everyone wanted to be around because life was just so much better when he was there. He exuded energy and life and Jesus. He touched literally countless lives for the better. His funeral, no,wait, that’s not what it was called. His Celebration of Life service could have gone on for days if all those who could’ve shared his life’s impact had been given the chance to speak.
Hollywood does a great job of depicting heroes with superhuman capabilities and powers. Spiderman, Wolverine, and even Peter Petrelli give us a glimpse of what is possible through the eyes of our imaginations. They help us think in terms of the bigger picture…that the world needs saving by cosmic forces of good.
Real life heroes are often hard to come by. And yet, I think we all want and need heroes in our lives, flesh-and-blood heroes that show us how life can be lived in an abundant way, without the aide of made-up powers only possible through the help of special effects. We need to see ordinary people, people just like us, who are living life in a spectacular way, through the power of the Holy Spirit. These real heroes give us hope for our own lives.
For a bunch of years now, Roosevelt has been one of mine.
And in the wake of his death, I have a nagging internal thought…
“I want my life to really count.”
Yep, that’s it.
Sorry to disappoint you if you were waiting for me to write something super-profound. I know it’s simple and perhaps even a bit cliche. But it’s there, reminding me that each day matters, that how I am living my life matters. If Roosevelt showed us, showed me, anything, it’s to do everything with gusto, to be fully present wherever you are and to die with no regrets.
I plan on doing the same. You see, the world does need saving by cosmic forces of good.
www.rooseveltonline.com
I didn’t get the memo. You know, the one about how summer in Ontario was being replaced with rain and floods.
see this link for the visual…http://www.hamiltonspectator.com/video2/newflooded/
On Sunday, it started downpouring during Jeff’s sermon. In the lobby afterwards, I was telling people that it would be ok with me if they wanted to drive right through the lobby to pick up their families! (Have I mentioned that I don’t think our church knows quite what to make of me yet!?) I then had to transfer carseats from Katie’s car to my truck in the deluge. To make matters worse, Mykah must have kicked the back window crank open that morning because she ended up with one extremely wet seat.
The rain lets up slightly just as Jeff exits the church. (Is it possible that God really does like him better?)
I agree to drive home, but am quickly regretting that decision as we descend down the Red Hill Parkway. It is flooded. Water is gushing across the road all the way down to the QEW. I found myself clenching the steering wheel, as if my white knuckles would procure better traction for my tires.
We finally merge onto the QEW and I start breathing a bit more normally.
Then Carter in a very somber voice speaks out from behind me…
“God is going to flood the whole earth.”
Filed under: Life | Tags: bedtime routines, missionaries, missions, PAOC, prayer
I recently brought home the 2009 PAOC missions booklet, with the pictures and “profiles” of all the PAOC missionaries around the world. I thought I could read about a family each night with Carter and then pray for that family’s prayer requests as listed in the booklet.
Now, you must understand that bedtimes in the Johnston household are already long enough. Baths, jammies, a trip to the toilet, brushing of teeth, songs for Mykah, books for Mykah, drinks of water for them both, one more trip to the potty for Mykah, and then Carter reads me a book, then I read him a book and a Bible story, then we pray, and he tries to persuade me to lay with him for awhile or at least rub his back. Oh, and there is also several times of going in to check that Mykah is still in bed and not playing with her toys or ripping up her books …Let’s just say I didn’t need one more “thing” added to our routine! But, I do think it’s important for my kids to grow up understanding the importance of missions and supporting them financially and through prayer, so I have to start sometime, right!
Carter is 5, almost 6, and has a limited view of what “missions”, “missionaries” and even what “countries” are, so I have been trying my best to explain it to him as we go along. A few nights ago I told him that another word for “missionary” is “hero”. We talked about how these families leave their own country of Canada to move to another country to tell people about Jesus. He told me that he thought we should do that one day too. I told him that we are sortof like missionaries because we left the country of the United States to move to the country of Canada to tell people about Jesus in our neighborhood and at church.
He thought about this for a minute and then smiled and said, “One day there will be a book with our picture in it.”
Jeff plays hockey in a summer league. It’s just one night a week, Thursdays in fact, and I don’t begrudge him the joy that it brings him. He played Junior hockey when he was younger and injury-free, and I know that there will always be a part of him that wonders how far he could’ve gone if he hadn’t gotten hurt. Joining first the winter league and now the summer league has brought back some hockey joy to his life. I wish I could explain the look of anticipation he wears as he prepares for his games. His enormous hockey bag sits proudly in our hallway, packed with his gear. His stick is weekly made ready with new black tape. His determination is set. He will give his all on the ice, there will be no questioning that. He goes alone and returns with stories to tell. I can usually tell whether his team won or lost based solely on his demeanor when he returns. If he is near giddy, I can guarantee that his team not only won, but that he scored at least one nice goal as well.
This past Thursday, July 2, just so happened to be our 10 year wedding anniversary. I booked a hotel room in Toronto for the occasion, but I made the reservations for the day after our anniversary. I know how much these games mean to him, and he could still make his game that way. Let’s call that my gift to him, shall we?
When Thursday, our anniversary, came, so did my parents and my sister and my niece. They drove up from Illinois to spend some time with us and also to watch our kids so we could get away just the two of us. Sort of as an afterthought, Jeff and I realized I could also go to the game with him that night since my family would be at the house. This is something I have not been able to do yet, as I am pretty sure leaving my children home alone, sleeping or otherwise, is illegal or at least highly frowned upon.
The excitement in the car was evident as we drove to the arena. Jeff was all but bouncing in his seat. I’ve been married to this man for 10 years and I like to think I know him quite well. Hockey was on his mind and so we talked hockey the whole way there. As we walked into the arena and found out which rink he would be playing on, he turned back one last time before making his way to the dressing room.
“I have a fan!”, he said with school-boy excitement.
I smiled and assured him I was so glad to be there to see him play.
It wasn’t until I sat shivering and smiling down on him in my seat above the ice that I thought about the significance of what he had just communicated. “I have a fan”…Because I think that’s what marriage is all about…knowing, no matter what, that someone is in the stands cheering for you. Knowing that win or lose, you win with Someone. Knowing that you have a fan, a fan for life. We’ve been through a lot in the past ten years. I wouldn’t lie and pretend it’s all been easy, but knowing that Jeff’s been by my side, has made a huge difference. The world will never know whether Jeff could have made it all the way to the NHL, but that’s ok. He’s a superstar in my eyes, and he always will be. I may not always get to sit in the hockey rink, but I am always his biggest fan.
For anyone interested, the link to last Sunday’s sermon that I preached at Kingsview is up…just click on the image and it will redirect to ITunes and the podcast.
http://kvcommunitychurch.com/?page_id=14
I suppose it looks like I am self-promoting myself, but, hey, this IS my blog, after all!
I inherited bunions on both of my feet, thanks to both of my grandmas who have them. I think the fact that there were “bunion-genetics” on both sides of the gene pool, helped to ensure that not only would I have them, but they would be massive. This could have something to do with the way they mercifully skipped both of my parents and then reigned down their fury on me. In case you are unaware, bunions are a sort of malformation of the joint/bones below a person’s (my!) big toes.
I have many friends who are in love with shoes. No shopping trip is complete without a new pair. Their closets’ boast of shoes in every color and style. They would be called shoe-horses (as opposed to a clothes-horse, of which I might actually consider myself.) I have been accused of owning too many shoes as well. I have a very good reason for this though. If I actually stumble upon a pair of cute, or even ugly, shoes that will fit my feet, I absolutely must buy them and then keep them until I wear the soles out. This is the reason I own so many shoes and why many of them are quite old, and I will admit, out of fashion. Although shopping for a swimsuit is still the absolute worst experience I can think of, shoe shopping for me is a close second. (and, God forbid, if I have to do both in the same day, I will need much coffee and therapy afterwards.)
I have been in many different “healing” services over the years. I have prayed fervently that God would heal my feet. As I feel no pain from my bunions as long as I am wearing wide enough shoes, I would have to actually remove my shoes and then peek to see if I had been healed. I never was. Not that I am upset by this, just repeatedly disappointed. Perhaps these bunions are my “thorn in the flesh” that Paul speaks of in 2 Corinthians 12:7 “To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.”
Anyway, regardless of the Lord’s reasoning, I am now 31 and still dealing with my extra-wide tootsies. For the last month, however, there is a new cause for concern. My right foot has a now constant pain throughout it. I keep thinking it will go away, but, alas, it seems to daily be getting worse. I finally booked an appointment with my doctor to begin to investigate what I should do.
One thing’s for sure, I liked this thorn in my flesh alot better when I could regulate the pain on my own, through my choices of sensible footwear. The thought of surgery to remove them, as one of my grandma’s did, makes me want to bawl my eyes out. The thought of this shooting, throbbing pain is not much better.
Today is Father’s Day. I am a fan. I know that there are lots of people out there that may say, “why do we have to have a holiday celebrating people we should be celebrating every day?”. I say, why not!
Dads are often the unsung heroes of the family. In our family, when either of the kids gets hurt, they immediately cry for me., their mommy. Since I am with them, all day, every day, they are used to relying on me. It’s a bit unfortunate that they are unable to see that it is actually their dad who is the biggest champion of this family… Their dad, who goes to work and earns the money. Their dad, who often has to be away from them when he would much rather be home. Their dad, who adores them and would do anything for them. Their dad, who sold his Harley this week, in order to free up some money to get us into a house of our own.
Which is so much like my own dad. I admit that it wasn’t until I was older, that I was able to see just how much my own dad loved me. Oh, he was affectionate and supportive and went to all my sports activities, and I actually don’t remember ever questioning his love for me as a kid. But dad was a fire fighter and worked 24 hours on and then 48 hours off. Then in those 48 hours “off”, he worked long hours for a trucking company. He was a busy guy. He worked hard…for us. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I began to realize he worked to provide for me and my mom and my sister. He worked to send us to Christian school. He worked because that is what good dads, no, champion dads do. And on Father’s day, I hope my dad knows how very much his daughter loves him. (even though his card will arrive late…which is probably no surprise to him!) He’s a hero, my hero.
I am getting ready for church now. My church. The church where Jeff is the pastor. I didn’t even get to fix him a nice breakfast this morning because he gets up at 5:30 on Sundays and is out the door before anyone is even up yet. (I know what you are thinking, that perhaps if I was a better wife, I would have had breakfast ready for him at that time, but hey, at least I have room for improvement in years to come!). He’s preaching this morning, a sermon called “Just like Daddy.” I hope he knows that I want our kids to grow up wanting to be just like him. He’s a hero, our hero.
