So I decided that this time around I'm going to really try to post regularly here instead of not bothering to post until the newest Homkes has made his or her arrival.
That's right, the newest Homkes. We're 10 weeks pregnant! So far, the journey has definitely been tougher than my first pregnancy. I knew I was pregnant within a week and have only just started to get over that feeling in the past two weeks. Nausea and fatigue have abounded this time around! I'm very thankful that recently things have started to get better, but one thing has remained constant: how I feel on Mondays.
Maybe it's because we have pretty busy Sundays. We go to church once near our home and then again forty-five minutes away from home. Afterward we often have lunch with family, and sometimes we even drive a triangle to visit with husby's parents. There are also special events frequently taking place Sunday afternoons and evenings, so I'm out and about a lot more than I am on most days. We have to get up early for church and inevitably end up staying up just as late as we normally do come Sunday night.
When Monday morning arrives, I stumble out of bed late with either an awful headache or a migraine, feeling as though I'm not going to make it through the day. Also, I can't make it through the day without losing either a meal or a drink at least once. This Monday makes three Mondays in a row of this routine. What gives? The good side is that (minus the first week when I was just sick for the rest of the week) after Monday, I usually recover pretty well, have a tired day on Tuesday and am functioning again by Wednesday. If the deal is that I have to be wretchedly sick, at least it's only one day out of the week!
With my first pregnancy, I craved Taco Bell all the time. This one is very different. I want Subway *all* the time, and especially their tuna subs. Of course, I can only have those once, maybe twice a week. I also crave salads with croutons and cheese and dressing. Also, those Breakfast Scrambler pastry pockets full of fake cheese, fake egg, and maybe real sausage. I know, random. Weeks 5-8 when I was super nauseous, I basically lived on Spaghettios. The kind without meatballs, because the meatballs made the sauce taste funny to me. I'm very happy that I can eat a variety of foods now and keep them down! I'm definitely looking forward to the end of the first trimester when I hopefully get a little more energy and a little less nausea! Week 11, here I come!
Monday, August 20, 2012
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Edited Edition of Havilah's Arrival
Well, it has been quite some time since my last post. I have a semi-somewhat-valid excuse - I had a baby! And not just any baby, but the most wonderful, adorable, beautiful breathtaking baby in the whole wide world, which means I haven't had time for blogging because I have been spending most of my time taking care of and just staring at this amazing child God has put in our lives. Because my baby is so amazing and my story so unique (it's okay to laugh here at my attachment to naivety) I thought I would share it before jumping into our new lives as parents. Bear in mind, I wrote this shortly after we had her - over two months ago. I may go back and talk about the pregnancy as well, but for now, here's the birth story:
Less than 48 hours before we met our little one. I look like I swallowed a watermelon sideways!
I woke up on May 9th (the day after my due date and also the day after I graduated from college) at 7:30 in the morning to contractions happening about every ten minutes. I took a three-mile walk (Erik was still asleep because he'd gotten basically no sleep the night before because of work scheduling) in an effort to kick things into gear. When Erik woke up I asked him if he thought it was a good day for a baby, because I could tell my contractions were very different from the ones I'd had on Tuesday (when we went into the office and they sent us home).
We tidied up our house and cleaned out the van. I had an OB appointment scheduled for 3:30 and was really hoping they would send me to the hospital. We went into Lebanon to run a few errands, and then headed to the appointment. We'd only made it to 2 centimeters and 80% effaced (we'd been 1 centimeter and 70% at our last appointment), and contractions were still 6-8 minutes apart, so we got sent home, but they thought we might have the baby the next day. I was pretty disappointed to get sent home again, but I also had the feeling that the baby was going to arrive very soon.
Well, I really wanted baby to get here, so I went to my prenatal yoga class to try and speed things along. My yoga instructor was keeping an eye on me the whole time, and at the end of the class she said she was counting my contractions at about five minutes apart. Things were definitely starting to pick up. Erik and I went to a few different stores and did some walking and shopping, and finally headed back to the house. We went on another walk and headed into the house about 9:00 at night.
By 11:00 it became obvious that we would be calling up the office at some point in the near future. At midnight, I was mostly just putting it off because I was NOT going to call in and get sent home again! We finally called at 12:30 when my contractions were lasting over a minute and were about two-three minutes apart. I was so happy to hear that one of the OBs I like was on call that night. I spent half an hour puttering and making sure we had everything, and then we climbed into the van for the half-hour drive. The drive was awful! My contractions were consistently a lot more intense (but were a little further apart) when I was sitting down as opposed to standing up, so the half-hour of being stuck sitting in one position was not very cool.
We arrived at the hospital at about 1:30 AM. By then I had made it to 5 centimeters and was 100% effaced, so we got to stay! I was also having intense contractions by then. I told Erik that I felt like I'd feel SO much better if I could just let out the biggest fart of my life. Erik said, "Okay, so do it!" to which I replied, "I can't, because it's not a fart, it's a baby!" When the nurse said "Well, I'm guessing you're staying" and left the triage room, I turned to Erik and was like "I don't know what we would have done if they'd sent us home, because I REFUSE to get back in that van!"
The next four hours were... Well, let's just say that they need the most editing out of the story! I completely went nuts towards the end, and I bit Erik a few times because it was a way to release frustration/pain (Erik says it was six times, lol). I wanted to be in the shower, but they decided they had to tether me to a baby monitor, so I only got a ten minute shower before they hauled me out and hooked me up again. In spite of going crazy, I did not tell Erik I hated him, or scream verbal abuse at him, or swear at him - I was very proud of myself for that, haha! He was good throughout the labor, except for one slip-up. My water broke about 4:30, and he said "Guess we didn't need that plastic sheet for our bed at home... Oh well, we'll save it for next time." I stopped, looked straight in his face, and said "Shut up. Do not talk about future children to me!" Other than that, he was great, super supportive, and didn't complain at all about the physical abuse.
We'd decided that we wanted to go natural. I have a super high pain threshold and wanted to go for it. It was way worse than I'd anticipated, and if I'd known going into it I probably would have planned for something! By the time I got to the point where I didn't feel like I was going to make it though, it was pretty much too late to start anything, so natural it was! The last hour, after my water broke, was the worst, as I wasn't really getting any breaks whatsoever between contractions at that point. I wanted to push before my body was ready once my water broke, so every time I had a contraction I basically had to scream at myself, "don't push! don't push!"
Finally, at about 5:20, my OB checked me and told me I could try pushing. I practically screamed at her, "I don't want to push on my back!" which probably amused them somewhat. I tried on my hands and knees, but ended up on my side. Twenty minutes of pushing later, our baby finally arrived, and Erik gave me the news that we'd had a girl! Overall, labor lasted 22 hours, we were at the hospital for 4 hours, my water broke with 1 hour to go, and I pushed for 20 minutes. Havilah Dorothy weighed in at 7 pounds, 6 ounces, and measured 20 inches long. She has beautiful, almost black hair. I still can't quite believe that this beautiful little baby is ours, and that we get to take her home with us and keep her! Feeding was a little rough the first day, but things seem to be smoothing out now. We're ready to take Havilah out to meet the world tomorrow!
Less than 48 hours before we met our little one. I look like I swallowed a watermelon sideways!
I woke up on May 9th (the day after my due date and also the day after I graduated from college) at 7:30 in the morning to contractions happening about every ten minutes. I took a three-mile walk (Erik was still asleep because he'd gotten basically no sleep the night before because of work scheduling) in an effort to kick things into gear. When Erik woke up I asked him if he thought it was a good day for a baby, because I could tell my contractions were very different from the ones I'd had on Tuesday (when we went into the office and they sent us home).
We tidied up our house and cleaned out the van. I had an OB appointment scheduled for 3:30 and was really hoping they would send me to the hospital. We went into Lebanon to run a few errands, and then headed to the appointment. We'd only made it to 2 centimeters and 80% effaced (we'd been 1 centimeter and 70% at our last appointment), and contractions were still 6-8 minutes apart, so we got sent home, but they thought we might have the baby the next day. I was pretty disappointed to get sent home again, but I also had the feeling that the baby was going to arrive very soon.
Well, I really wanted baby to get here, so I went to my prenatal yoga class to try and speed things along. My yoga instructor was keeping an eye on me the whole time, and at the end of the class she said she was counting my contractions at about five minutes apart. Things were definitely starting to pick up. Erik and I went to a few different stores and did some walking and shopping, and finally headed back to the house. We went on another walk and headed into the house about 9:00 at night.
By 11:00 it became obvious that we would be calling up the office at some point in the near future. At midnight, I was mostly just putting it off because I was NOT going to call in and get sent home again! We finally called at 12:30 when my contractions were lasting over a minute and were about two-three minutes apart. I was so happy to hear that one of the OBs I like was on call that night. I spent half an hour puttering and making sure we had everything, and then we climbed into the van for the half-hour drive. The drive was awful! My contractions were consistently a lot more intense (but were a little further apart) when I was sitting down as opposed to standing up, so the half-hour of being stuck sitting in one position was not very cool.
We arrived at the hospital at about 1:30 AM. By then I had made it to 5 centimeters and was 100% effaced, so we got to stay! I was also having intense contractions by then. I told Erik that I felt like I'd feel SO much better if I could just let out the biggest fart of my life. Erik said, "Okay, so do it!" to which I replied, "I can't, because it's not a fart, it's a baby!" When the nurse said "Well, I'm guessing you're staying" and left the triage room, I turned to Erik and was like "I don't know what we would have done if they'd sent us home, because I REFUSE to get back in that van!"
The next four hours were... Well, let's just say that they need the most editing out of the story! I completely went nuts towards the end, and I bit Erik a few times because it was a way to release frustration/pain (Erik says it was six times, lol). I wanted to be in the shower, but they decided they had to tether me to a baby monitor, so I only got a ten minute shower before they hauled me out and hooked me up again. In spite of going crazy, I did not tell Erik I hated him, or scream verbal abuse at him, or swear at him - I was very proud of myself for that, haha! He was good throughout the labor, except for one slip-up. My water broke about 4:30, and he said "Guess we didn't need that plastic sheet for our bed at home... Oh well, we'll save it for next time." I stopped, looked straight in his face, and said "Shut up. Do not talk about future children to me!" Other than that, he was great, super supportive, and didn't complain at all about the physical abuse.
We'd decided that we wanted to go natural. I have a super high pain threshold and wanted to go for it. It was way worse than I'd anticipated, and if I'd known going into it I probably would have planned for something! By the time I got to the point where I didn't feel like I was going to make it though, it was pretty much too late to start anything, so natural it was! The last hour, after my water broke, was the worst, as I wasn't really getting any breaks whatsoever between contractions at that point. I wanted to push before my body was ready once my water broke, so every time I had a contraction I basically had to scream at myself, "don't push! don't push!"
Finally, at about 5:20, my OB checked me and told me I could try pushing. I practically screamed at her, "I don't want to push on my back!" which probably amused them somewhat. I tried on my hands and knees, but ended up on my side. Twenty minutes of pushing later, our baby finally arrived, and Erik gave me the news that we'd had a girl! Overall, labor lasted 22 hours, we were at the hospital for 4 hours, my water broke with 1 hour to go, and I pushed for 20 minutes. Havilah Dorothy weighed in at 7 pounds, 6 ounces, and measured 20 inches long. She has beautiful, almost black hair. I still can't quite believe that this beautiful little baby is ours, and that we get to take her home with us and keep her! Feeding was a little rough the first day, but things seem to be smoothing out now. We're ready to take Havilah out to meet the world tomorrow!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Book: "A Lineage of Grace"
I'm currently reading "A Lineage of Grace" by Francine Rivers, and I'm completely involved in the stories she weaves. I've always found the women of the Bible to be of particular interest (well, I'm a woman, and there aren't as many women in the Bible as there are men, so it's easier to keep the stories straight!), and these stories are right up my alley. There are five novellas - one each for Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary, all women from the lineage of Jesus. So far I've read Tamar and Rahab, and have started Ruth's story. I started reading the book yesterday.
In addition to the great recreations of what the lives of these women could have been like, there are also study sections at the end of each novella, which have been prompting me to make some "dangerous" prayers (asking God to search your heart, to show you areas you need to improve, and things you need to do, are always dangerous inasmuch that if you ask for it, God's going to grant it to you, and you may not like the answers you get!) - I've been learning a lot, and Rivers does a great job of using every scrap of detail from the Bible in her narration. Because of this, I've noticed things from the Biblical accounts that I wouldn't have noticed had I been reading the account straight from the Bible. After each novella, you end up reading basically the entire story in the study section, and there are questions designed to make you actually think about the passage and about what you just read.
I highly recommend these novellas to young women in particular, but to anyone who thirsts for a deeper understanding of God and the Bible, and I look forward to finishing up Ruth's story and reading through the rest of the book!
In addition to the great recreations of what the lives of these women could have been like, there are also study sections at the end of each novella, which have been prompting me to make some "dangerous" prayers (asking God to search your heart, to show you areas you need to improve, and things you need to do, are always dangerous inasmuch that if you ask for it, God's going to grant it to you, and you may not like the answers you get!) - I've been learning a lot, and Rivers does a great job of using every scrap of detail from the Bible in her narration. Because of this, I've noticed things from the Biblical accounts that I wouldn't have noticed had I been reading the account straight from the Bible. After each novella, you end up reading basically the entire story in the study section, and there are questions designed to make you actually think about the passage and about what you just read.
I highly recommend these novellas to young women in particular, but to anyone who thirsts for a deeper understanding of God and the Bible, and I look forward to finishing up Ruth's story and reading through the rest of the book!
(snagged from inspire4less.com)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Why I Hate Automatic Flushing Toilets
Yes, I do feel that I need to write a blog about this, because they annoy me so very much. I'm sure the developers liked the idea, and thought the concept was a great one - after all, if you make it automatic then you won't have to touch the nasty handle, and you also won't have to worry about other people touching the handle and then not washing their hands. That's cool, right?
My complaint isn't with the idea - it's with the actual product. I was raised to be borderline "germaphobic," and I absolutely hate going in a public restroom and using the toilet only to have it flush while I'm still standing there. Why is that such a big deal? Well, water droplets from the toilet are known to fly out of the toilet in a cloud and can land as far as six to eight feet away. If you don't believe me, try putting dye or food coloring in your toilet, flushing it, and holding a piece of paper over it.
These droplets can land everywhere in this six to eight foot radius, including the walls (partitions in the stalls), doors, floors, the toilet paper dispensers (and the toilet paper itself) and even the ceilings. Yuck! If the sink is within this radius, it can be the most affected by bacteria from the spray, because it's a moist environment. Believe it or not, the seat is actually one of the areas with the least amount of bacteria, because the seat is too dry to support a lot of germs.
So anyway, this is why I hate the automatics, because they flush before you're finished. With the "old," manual ones, you could finish, unlock the partition door, slap the handle with your foot, and then bolt out of the stall with minimal spray contact.
I know I sound completely ridiculous. I mean, I should be thankful for plumbing, not ranting about the wonder of modern technology, right? Don't get me wrong - I'm very thankful we don't have to use corncobs as toilet paper anymore, but every once in awhile my pet peeves get to me and I just have to let it out. Thanks for indulging me.
Oh, and keeping your toothbrush on the back of the toilet? That's just wrong.
My complaint isn't with the idea - it's with the actual product. I was raised to be borderline "germaphobic," and I absolutely hate going in a public restroom and using the toilet only to have it flush while I'm still standing there. Why is that such a big deal? Well, water droplets from the toilet are known to fly out of the toilet in a cloud and can land as far as six to eight feet away. If you don't believe me, try putting dye or food coloring in your toilet, flushing it, and holding a piece of paper over it.
These droplets can land everywhere in this six to eight foot radius, including the walls (partitions in the stalls), doors, floors, the toilet paper dispensers (and the toilet paper itself) and even the ceilings. Yuck! If the sink is within this radius, it can be the most affected by bacteria from the spray, because it's a moist environment. Believe it or not, the seat is actually one of the areas with the least amount of bacteria, because the seat is too dry to support a lot of germs.
So anyway, this is why I hate the automatics, because they flush before you're finished. With the "old," manual ones, you could finish, unlock the partition door, slap the handle with your foot, and then bolt out of the stall with minimal spray contact.
I know I sound completely ridiculous. I mean, I should be thankful for plumbing, not ranting about the wonder of modern technology, right? Don't get me wrong - I'm very thankful we don't have to use corncobs as toilet paper anymore, but every once in awhile my pet peeves get to me and I just have to let it out. Thanks for indulging me.
Oh, and keeping your toothbrush on the back of the toilet? That's just wrong.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Hymns
I've recently been researching hymns in order to find some that are "period" to sing at re-enactments. Doing this has made me realize that I haven't sung many hymns in a long time. Sure, I sing a few hymns in church every week, but a lot of the songs we do are contemporary. Now, before you worry that this is a rant, let me say that I love contemporary Christian music. It reaches the hearts of today's people in ways that a lot of music can't. I always feel revived after I get to sing "Shine, Jesus Shine" or "God of Wonders."
However, there is a lot to be said for hymns, and I think today's churches sometimes forget the importance of hymns. I realized just how much the "old standbys" mean when we were trying to fill some time for our small church in Lafayette where I'm part of the worship team. We asked for requests from the congregation, and a young adult suggested "The Old Rugged Cross." Previous to that day, this song was "nice," but I'd never thought too deeply about it. But as I stood there singing it a Capella (because it was in a terrible key and we're a somewhat inexperienced worship team), the tears just started to roll down my cheeks. Never had those words rung so truly in my heart.
In addition, sometimes the oldest hymns are the ones that touch us the most. Whether it's Phil Keaggy style or Celtic style, one of my all-time favorite songs will always be "Be Thou My Vision," which may have been written as early as 8th century AD I recently found it online and discovered that it has more than the standard four verses I'm used to hearing. There's a fifth, rarely-sung verse that goes after the first two verses. For your enjoyment, here are the five verses:
Be Thou My Vision (Ancient Irish Hymn)
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
naught be all else to me, save that thou art;
Thou my best thought by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word,
I ever with thee and thou with me Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.
Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight;
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower:
Raise thou me heavenward, O power of my power.
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:
Thou mine inheritance now and always;
Thou and thou only first in my heart;
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.
High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O Bright Heaven's sun!:
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.
With views like these, is it any wonder that the Irish wrote "Be Thou My Vision?" (Pictures from the book, "Spectacular Ireland")
However, there is a lot to be said for hymns, and I think today's churches sometimes forget the importance of hymns. I realized just how much the "old standbys" mean when we were trying to fill some time for our small church in Lafayette where I'm part of the worship team. We asked for requests from the congregation, and a young adult suggested "The Old Rugged Cross." Previous to that day, this song was "nice," but I'd never thought too deeply about it. But as I stood there singing it a Capella (because it was in a terrible key and we're a somewhat inexperienced worship team), the tears just started to roll down my cheeks. Never had those words rung so truly in my heart.
In addition, sometimes the oldest hymns are the ones that touch us the most. Whether it's Phil Keaggy style or Celtic style, one of my all-time favorite songs will always be "Be Thou My Vision," which may have been written as early as 8th century AD I recently found it online and discovered that it has more than the standard four verses I'm used to hearing. There's a fifth, rarely-sung verse that goes after the first two verses. For your enjoyment, here are the five verses:
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
naught be all else to me, save that thou art;
Thou my best thought by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word,
I ever with thee and thou with me Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.
Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight;
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower:
Raise thou me heavenward, O power of my power.
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:
Thou mine inheritance now and always;
Thou and thou only first in my heart;
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.
High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O Bright Heaven's sun!:
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Hobbies: Historical Re-enacting
Erik and I love historical re-enacting (the other blog I write is dedicated to all things of the 18th century). We were at an event this weekend in Northern Indiana and had a great time there. We were able to enjoy time with several of our good friends, participate in "battles," and even attend a church service geared toward re-enactors (I'll be talking about that in a minute). I also was able to put on my "pretty clothes" and be a girl on Saturday evening (I usually portray a ranger alongside the hubby).
Quick Pause: What is historical re-enacting? Basically it's when a bunch of people (participants) gather and recreate a time period (usually centered around a war, like the Seven Years' War - 1750s - or the Revolutionary Wary) for the public at large, usually over a weekend (these gatherings are known as "events). The participants are almost always volunteers, taking time out of their own schedules to interpret history for visitors. Generally, the participants sleep in canvas tents, eat food baked over a fire, and only take showers if "shower" means wading in the nearby creek or river.
One thing I love about this hobby is that you make some really good friends - and then you get to see those friends every other weekend during the Fall and about once a month during the Spring, and you get to spend all weekend camping together. It really is a blast. Everyone (even those who are our 'targets' during battles) becomes extended family. You develop an appreciation for these people that only comes from seeing them after three days without a shower, clean clothes, or most of the modern amenities we've come to take for granted. Try cooking a pound cake in a dutch oven over a fire. I deeply respect these people and admire them for doing their best to present history to visitors. I'm proud to be a member among them, and I definitely consider them (especially my own unit) to be my extended family.
Frequently there will be some kind of sermon on Sunday mornings at events, because it's usually difficult-to-impossible for participants to go to their regular churches (some people come from several hours away to participate in these events). The thing I truly love about my unit is that we are all born-again believers. Now, if you were a re-enactor, you would be laughing right now, because the rangers of the 1750s were known for committing a huge assortment of what would today be considered war crimes. Pillaging, killing livestock, burning farms... It was all part of a day's work. We may re-enact "ranger scum," but we're all firm believers.
There was a last-minute sermon this morning. It wasn't planned for the event (as many of the sermons are), and the man who presented the sermon was asked to do it approximately fifteen minutes beforehand. However, even with this lack of preparation and knowledge of the sermon beforehand, every single ranger in our company (all seven of us) attended the service. I was proud of our unit for stopping what they were doing and attending. My sister and I lead (or attempted to lead) a few period songs on the fly, and we had our own little service, under some trees, by a river. It was wonderful.
The man presenting the message spoke about how just as re-enactors are expected to know about their particular passion, and to study it and learn from it, so we as Christians are expected to know about our passion (Jesus) and study and learn about Him. We can use the "First-Hand Account," the Bible, or we can use "secondary sources," like a study booklet. The important thing is that we consistently and persistently pursue God's Word and His desires for our hearts. The last thing our presenter pointed out was that we will always be learning. We can never learn all there is to know about God. I think it's very important to remember that - just because we've been Christians for fifty years, for seventy years, for however many years, doesn't mean you know all there is to know. You've only begun to scratch the surface.
Quick Pause: What is historical re-enacting? Basically it's when a bunch of people (participants) gather and recreate a time period (usually centered around a war, like the Seven Years' War - 1750s - or the Revolutionary Wary) for the public at large, usually over a weekend (these gatherings are known as "events). The participants are almost always volunteers, taking time out of their own schedules to interpret history for visitors. Generally, the participants sleep in canvas tents, eat food baked over a fire, and only take showers if "shower" means wading in the nearby creek or river.
One thing I love about this hobby is that you make some really good friends - and then you get to see those friends every other weekend during the Fall and about once a month during the Spring, and you get to spend all weekend camping together. It really is a blast. Everyone (even those who are our 'targets' during battles) becomes extended family. You develop an appreciation for these people that only comes from seeing them after three days without a shower, clean clothes, or most of the modern amenities we've come to take for granted. Try cooking a pound cake in a dutch oven over a fire. I deeply respect these people and admire them for doing their best to present history to visitors. I'm proud to be a member among them, and I definitely consider them (especially my own unit) to be my extended family.
Frequently there will be some kind of sermon on Sunday mornings at events, because it's usually difficult-to-impossible for participants to go to their regular churches (some people come from several hours away to participate in these events). The thing I truly love about my unit is that we are all born-again believers. Now, if you were a re-enactor, you would be laughing right now, because the rangers of the 1750s were known for committing a huge assortment of what would today be considered war crimes. Pillaging, killing livestock, burning farms... It was all part of a day's work. We may re-enact "ranger scum," but we're all firm believers.
There was a last-minute sermon this morning. It wasn't planned for the event (as many of the sermons are), and the man who presented the sermon was asked to do it approximately fifteen minutes beforehand. However, even with this lack of preparation and knowledge of the sermon beforehand, every single ranger in our company (all seven of us) attended the service. I was proud of our unit for stopping what they were doing and attending. My sister and I lead (or attempted to lead) a few period songs on the fly, and we had our own little service, under some trees, by a river. It was wonderful.
The man presenting the message spoke about how just as re-enactors are expected to know about their particular passion, and to study it and learn from it, so we as Christians are expected to know about our passion (Jesus) and study and learn about Him. We can use the "First-Hand Account," the Bible, or we can use "secondary sources," like a study booklet. The important thing is that we consistently and persistently pursue God's Word and His desires for our hearts. The last thing our presenter pointed out was that we will always be learning. We can never learn all there is to know about God. I think it's very important to remember that - just because we've been Christians for fifty years, for seventy years, for however many years, doesn't mean you know all there is to know. You've only begun to scratch the surface.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
WIP: House Hunting
Erik and I have been house hunting for about a year and a half now. Erik did his best to find a house that was up to my standards before we got married, but we finally had to settle for a rental house until a better house could be found. It's not a bad house - it's on an acre, surrounded by cornfields, and the neighbors aren't right on top of us. However, I'm from the country, grew up on seventeen acres, and am really picky about where I live. My family moved to town the year preceding our marriage, and the only way I survived was by telling myself it was temporary.
That being said, it's really not easy to find a good house. While we haven't been checking out every house that comes up, we've been doing our fair share of searching and house-visiting. At long last, we decided to try talking to a different Realtor, having been told "this guy is really good." The first house he e-mailed us was one we already went and looked at on our own and didn't like. The second house, however (which he e-mailed us over the weekend) looked almost too good to be true. We replied that we really wanted to look at it, and scheduled an appointment to see it tomorrow afternoon.
Well, a few hours ago we found out that another offer had already been accepted on the house. Needless to say, we're both really disappointed, and right now it's hard to remember that God is the one taking care of our plans. My fallible human mind goes, "but God, this house looked perfect! Why would you let us see this great house only to not let us have it?" but I know that's the wrong way to think. I have to remember that God is the Master Planner. The Bible verse in my title says it all: "For I know the plans I have for you, " declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11) My goal this week is to cling to that verse and remember that God is my Author. And He's not one of those mean authors who do things to their characters just for the fun of it :-P He's the one and only Writer of our lives.
That being said, it's really not easy to find a good house. While we haven't been checking out every house that comes up, we've been doing our fair share of searching and house-visiting. At long last, we decided to try talking to a different Realtor, having been told "this guy is really good." The first house he e-mailed us was one we already went and looked at on our own and didn't like. The second house, however (which he e-mailed us over the weekend) looked almost too good to be true. We replied that we really wanted to look at it, and scheduled an appointment to see it tomorrow afternoon.
Well, a few hours ago we found out that another offer had already been accepted on the house. Needless to say, we're both really disappointed, and right now it's hard to remember that God is the one taking care of our plans. My fallible human mind goes, "but God, this house looked perfect! Why would you let us see this great house only to not let us have it?" but I know that's the wrong way to think. I have to remember that God is the Master Planner. The Bible verse in my title says it all: "For I know the plans I have for you, " declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11) My goal this week is to cling to that verse and remember that God is my Author. And He's not one of those mean authors who do things to their characters just for the fun of it :-P He's the one and only Writer of our lives.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)