just give me Jesus

I know the trend is not new. The one where churches get all caught up in being new and innovative. Trying to find the perfect approach to give people an "experience" on Sunday morning. Unfortunately my church is caught up in that now.

I can appreciate all the hard work that goes into what they are trying to accomplish. I get the theme. But what I can't figure out is why we need a theme? Just give me Jesus.

Let's strip away all the jazz. All the distractions. All the fluff.

Let's peel back all those layers and uncover what it is we're all there looking for. Who it is we're all there looking for....

Just. Give. Me. Jesus.

Some things I've noticed about myself...

• I really love naps
• I really love cheese. And sweets. So much love.
• My body doesn't hide pregnancy well. (Which surely has nothing to do with my love of cheese nor sweets.)
• I love a good second trimester.
• I do not love morning sickness.
• I love that my husband will make a late night run for crappy fast food, and then eat it for me when I've changed my mind at the last minute. And that he is willing to re-run for other cravings without batting an eye. (He's a good man.)
• Applebees's invented Mild Boneless Wings with blue cheese dressing on the side JUST for me. But you are welcome to have them, too. (Just not mine. Lest you lose a finger.)
• I am in NO hurry to get into maternity clothes. None.
• My pants are too tight...not at the tummy - they are riding low....they are too tight in the bottom and thighs, but you know what?! I zipped them. And I'm wearing them. Because they are the smallest size I have worn since high school and I may never get the chance to wear them again with all this chicken and cheese and cake.
• I like coffee again. Thank goodness. I had a really bad run for many sad weeks where the thought of it made me want to puke my guts out.
• My hair finally fits in a pony tail. Not a lovely pony tail. But I'm working on that.
• I'm hungry for second breakfast.

Number 4

In

October,

we'll

have

another

baby.

(It's been a little quiet here, I'm exhausted. Hoping the next trimester that starts next week will bring with it some new energy.)

I took the opportunity to clean out my purse while waiting in the car for my girl to be done with school.

Papers. So many little stubs of paper. Receipts. Slips. Notes. Lists. I stashed them inside a Ziploc bag - holding two smooshed oreos.

I came across a little metal coil. A remnant from a pen that I remember tossing the last time I purged the purse. I opened the little baggie to add it to the paper trash, when a thought crossed my mind.

Might I ever need this little metal coil?

You know, what if the engine stalled and this small piece of aluminum (or whatever) could fix it? No. That doesn't happen in real life. I am never in an episode of Macgyver.

But I sure used to watch that show A LOT when I was younger. Isn't it funny how deeply impacted we are by such things?

I read a post here about how soap operas have impacted the "Redeemed Diva's" thinking. (She's a hoot!)

Anyhow, I threw out that coil. I hope I never happen upon a bomb squad trying to diffuse a bomb. It could have come in handy.

through the fog

A low dense cloud parked itself over our city this morning. As I made the morning rounds of school drop-offs, I found myself on a road that leads straight towards a beautiful old Catholic Church. This church has a very tall, very pointy steeple with a shiny gold cross at the tippy top.

I couldn't see it, but I knew it was there.

I watched for it.

Closer, closer, and then slowly through the fog, it appeared.

I had a moment as I contemplated this as a metaphor.

Just because I can't see it, or feel it, or hear it, doesn't mean it isn't there.

Just because I can't see Him, or feel Him, or hear Him, doesn't mean He isn't here.

nearly

I walked to the corner of the kitchen to throw away a Kleenex. The garbage was stacked to capacity. It's a game we aren't purposely playing....if you can stick a piece of garbage into the bin without toppling the contents, you don't have to change the bag and take out the trash. Sort of like Jenga.

I lifted out the old bag, tied it and stepped outside to place it in the big garbage bin. I wasn't wearing a coat. Nor shoes. But I wasn't freezing.

There were birds singing.

I listened carefully.

And I could hear it.

Spring.

Not too far away.