Scripture and a Snapshot: The Story of this Blog

Once upon a time,

there was a teacher-turned-stay-at-home-mommy-turned-teacher-turned stay-at-home-mommy

(who’s now a teacher again—but that’s not important to this story.)

After a while, this teacher/SAHM/whatever decides to jump into the fray at Blogger.

She searches her brain for a catchy title.

Fresh out.

So she searches her soul this time, looking for the lens through which she’ll view the world,

and it will view her.

What’s the one thing, the one thing

that she’d tell the world,

that would make her words matter at all?

“One thing I ask of the Lord,

this is what I seek,

simply to dwell in the house of the Lord

all my days,

and to gaze upon His beauty and to seek Him in His temple.”

Psalm 27:4

Over a year into blogging, this person found the little button on Blogger called “stats.”

(Not techie or particularly curious, this person,  apparently.)

She discovered people actually do read her blog, even if they are mostly silent.

They seem to read the posts

where pain and life and God intersect.

Messy life+Jesus=God’s Glory

She will never understand how that works.

She will never have 2346 followers and 27 comments,

but maybe, just maybe,

Christ will guide her fingers on the keys,

and someone will seek and dwell and gaze

at the feet of her Beautiful Savior.

Be blessed today,

Ginger

Linking up here.

May is the new December

If you live in the South,

chances are that school is winding down

for the year.

Can I get an “Amen!”

and “Thank You, Lord!”

from the choir?

Tomorrow begins final exams here,

and, in addition to giving tests in my class,

I’ve helped DD#1 study for the big ones (math and science).

I now know more than I wanted about DNA, polypeptides, and ribosomes.

Moving on.

May rivals the holiday season for busyness

in the lives of teachers and students,

with concerts, award-ceremonies, and graduations

filling every day of the calendar.

In the last two weeks,

I’ve driven 800 miles

back and forth to events.

8-stinkin’ hundred miles.

Not kidding.

While I’m fighting exhaustion,

fast-food overload,

and a never-ending allergy season,

I’m still grateful for all this school year has represented.

Sometimes, God gives us a do-over,

and this was mine. 

Maybe it’s being the parent of a teen,

or being older,

or just grace,

but I liked this bunch of 7th graders--

despite their grammatical gaffs.

(Now I want them to go away

before they morph into snarky 8th graders.)

On the home front,

I’ve watched one of my own lovelies

learn some difficult lessons

and emerge the better for them,

with courage and purpose she doesn’t recognize.

Yet.

(I’m still believing God.)

Packing away my red pen for the year,

Ginger

Scripture and a Snapshot: In the End

A former pastor used to say,

“God’s will is what I would choose

if I had all the facts.”

One day,

in the light of His face,

all the things I don’t understand

will make sense

(or they just won’t be important at all).

In the end,

whatever we have seen darkly here

will be illuminated by His glory.

We will say,

“Yes, Lord.

You are faithful, just, merciful,

righteous.

Power to the Mamas

If you’ve visited the greeting card aisle this week like most of us have,

you’ve discovered that writing about motherhood is a lesson in cliché.

Finding a sapless Mother’s Day card is,

well,

one in a million,

like finding a needle in the haystack,

like—you get the idea.

For those of us who are moms,

we have an equally difficult task in describing what we do.

Motherhood has changed me,

challenged me,

rewarded me,

driven me to the feet of Jesus

like nothing else in my whole world.

My kids are the most

intelligent, funny, beautiful, loving, creative, stubborn,

and infinitely interesting people

that I know.

It is a privilege to be their mama.

I want them to be crazy about Jesus

and know He’s crazy about them.

Unashamedly, I ask God to pour Himself out on them,

for them to be filled to overflowing with His Spirit.

Unashamedly, I pray that for myself,

for His power in and through my mothering.

Amen.

Happy Mother’s Day to you, cliché or not.

Be blessed,

Ginger

In a Desert

Usually I am not one at a loss for words.

Lately, I’ve run out.

 These days, I feel like a desert-dweller.

I’ve cried out to God until I’m hoarse, and my spirit seems shriveled. 

 

(Image found here)

Desert seasons originate from lots of different places.

Some of them God appoints for us.

Some we extend unnecessarily by our disobedience.

This one, I think, is a waiting season, one  God sees and speaks into softly.

A friend praying for me yesterday used those words, “desert season,” and I marveled at His goodness to give her the very phrase that I was sensing.

Another friend inadvertently gave me my memory verse for early May:

Psalm 119:71-72

It was good for me to be afflicted,

so that I might learn Your decrees.

The law from Your mouth is more precious to me

than thousands of pieces of silver and gold.

I have no plans to hang out in my desert for long,

put up a pup-tent,

hang pictures.

While I’m praying for a short season, I know it will have been good for me to be here.

He will call me out of it with lots to say,

and He will have been worth it.

Be blessed,

Ginger